#tell me you've never been nauseous from a migraine

[archangeldyke-all]

could you write about sevika taking care of a sick reader? i’m immunocompromised and have been sick for like a month now and it’s really taking a toll on my mental health. would love to indulge myself by pretending that sevika is taking care of me hehe! thank you so much, your tumblr is such a safe space ❤️

of course i can <333 i hope this helps you feel a little better baby

men and minors dni

i'm just thinking about how nice and warm her big, calloused palm would be pressed against your forehead while she's checking on you. it's just a habit. she's not checking your temperature or anything, it's just how she shows her care, a big hand to your forehead, gently pushing your hair out of your face, sometimes sweeping down to cup your cheek. (god it'd feel so nice during a headache too.)

she'd be doing tiny little modifications around the house to make life easier for you. a stool in the shower to sit when you get too hot; another one at the counter so you don't have to stand while cooking; tiny trashcans next to your side of the bed and your favorite chair and the couch so you can be outside the bathroom when you're feeling nauseous; and sleeves of saltines everywhere. everywhere.

sevika doesn't get quaesy easily, and bodily fluids don't bother her much. she's always be right by your side while your getting sick (no matter what end it's coming out of, even if it's both) gently rubbing your back and wiping your mouth for you as you groan and gasp for air.

if you guys are in public you can bet your ass sevika's got her pockets loaded with anything and everything you might need.

suddenly feeling hot? sevikas cracking an ice pack for you, wrapping it in her jacket and holding it to your forehead. cold? she's got a heating pack in her back pocket too, hold on...

oh, you're hungry, but you can't keep food down? good thing sevika's brought some oyster crackers. you throw up in the bathroom? sevika's got a mini mouthwash for you.

i'm telling you, babe, she's got you covered.

she would never make you feel bad or shitty about being sick. if you're out and need to go home-- sevika's taking you home right away. if you've got plans but a migraine comes on, sevika's calling to get the food from the resturant you'd had reservations at delivered, then closing the blackout curtains and crawling into bed beside you.

and when you're feeling shitty and betrayed by your body-- sevika's always the person to remind you how incredible you are. how much she loves you, how funny, and resilient, and bright you are, that your laugh is like music, and that to her you glow even when you're mid fever and haven't showered in three days. and even though this speech from her always makes you cry, it's always good tears, and it always makes you feel better.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@shimtarofstupidity @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @realgreeniebeanie @k3n-dyll

@sevsdollette @ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re

@raphaellearp

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Thank you so much @yandere-paramour for commissioning me.

Commission description: It's your first period living with Yves and you're kinda avoiding him in his own house because you're in pain and nauseous and you think he's gonna think you're gross because he's a boy. And it's a bad period, like you won't eat anything and there's a lot of blood and all you can do is lie in bed and be in pain. But eventually you allow Yves to give you a bath and take care of you.

Tw: afab anatomy, period,

(btw I did an ask about period and Yves before this)

(1308 words)

"Dear?"

Laying in a fetal position on your bed and buried under your sheets, you could barely hear Yves's muffled voice calling for you from outside your room. Although you've been dating Yves for a while now, even moving in with him earlier this month, you're uncomfortable with sharing a bedroom with him. So, he allows you to sleep in the guest room until you're ready to sleep in the same bed as your boyfriend.

You felt the world around you spin, spin, spin until you couldn't tell if your feet were facing the end of your bed or the headboard. Unlike your unfortunately soiled sheets and your pants, you were green in the face with nausea.

A couple of knocks reached your ears. "I'm coming in."

Well, that's fair. You have sent him away multiple times today, turned down every meal and refused to open your door in fear of him discovering such a shameful secret: you menstruate every month.

It wasn't a secret to him, though. Before even moving in, he had already told you where he kept his menstrual pads, making you ask him why he owns such things when he is biologically a male. Yves merely replied he had prepared them for you.

He doesn't hold tampons, as he actively discourages you from using them. Yves said it has a higher chance of you going into toxic shock. However, you shied away from the conversation before it could get too detailed, what does he know? He never had to deal with horrible mood swings, severe cramps or bleeding orifices ever in his life, or does he?

Either way, you think that it's embarrassing to be this vulnerable to him. But you're too weak and battered by your own body to keep him out. You just remembered that you had forgotten to lock the door too.

A tall shadow cast upon your cocooned self as Yves towered over you. He sat by the edge of your bed, elegantly crossing his slender legs as he brought a cool hand up to the side of your face. Yves caressed you, massaging your temple. He said nothing and neither did you.

He is sitting quite near to your bloodied stain, but Yves is yet to glance at it. This made your face heat up in humiliation. You squeezed your eyes shut and hid under your comforter again, wanting nothing but to disappear at the moment. You wanted the nausea to end, you wanted the headache to end, you wanted--

You opened your eyes when you suddenly felt the strong urge to vomit all over the floor dramatically lessened. Likewise, with your throbbing headache, there is still a dull pain, but it was such a tremendous improvement compared to a few minutes ago. What changed?

Since the pain has been lifted and you can think much clearly now, you realized Yves is applying a considerable amount of pressure against two specific spots using his thumbs; your right temple and your inner wrist.

You looked up at him and asked him what he did.

"These are acupuncture points to alleviate migraines and nausea." He replied, slowly removing his fingers away from you. They returned to his lap, where they're folded neatly, he's sporting a neutral look on his face. Perhaps you could detect a bit of disappointment and upset in those stunning emerald eyes.

You thanked him, but told him to please leave you alone. Fully expecting him to get up and leave, you flopped back down onto your bed.

However, your headache and sickness began to return. Thinking you could do the acupuncture massage yourself, you dug your finger nails into the areas where you thought he touched. It didn't work and it began flooding back to a maddening degree.

Groaning and whimpering, you desperately tried to make them stop but to no avail. Only when Yves had his hands on you again did it calm down.

He gave you a minute to recuperate before talking.

"You haven't eaten all day." He commented, releasing his hold on you. "You're avoiding me." Yves was aloof, although his last sentence was an observation, you had a strong suspicion that he's actually demanding to know why. He has yet to notice the massive, scarlet stain next to him. Maybe you should tell him, at least he wouldn't get himself dirty.

You meekly pointed out that your blood is seeping through the white sheets.

"Of course, it is. You haven't been to the bathroom for hours." His voice was quiet, but it took on a more scolding tone. Yves didn't care to spare a glance at the growing patch.

"You wouldn't let me take care of you." Yves continued, now sounding more sorrowful.

You became defensive, saying that Yves is going to find you gross. Going on an embarrassment-fueled tangent about how it's horrible to have to go through this every month and he probably wouldn't understand. Yves cut you off by firmly calling your name.

"You are describing a version of me that only exists in your mind." He stared straight into your soul unblinkingly.

You let his words sink in, realizing that you're projecting onto Yves and being an ass. You remembered that he was open to discussing how he could provide the best possible care for you when you're on your period, mentioning that he would gladly hand wash any delicate article of bloodied clothing if he has to. It was you who steered clear away from the topic because it was too awkward for you to bear. But it never was for Yves, it came so naturally to him.

He reminded you of your period cycle, he prepared the hot water bottle that's been sitting on your nightstand stand, he prepared a fresh change of underwear with the pad perfectly placed on it but you shooed him away before you could accept them.

Hell, he even offered to escort you to the bathroom and help you freshen yourself up as if you're paralyzed from the neck down. Obviously you declined and may have lashed out at him for that.

And so, you apologized. With tears in your eyes as your hormones run rampant. You said you're ashamed and unsure what to do.

Yves interrupted your pity fest with a tight hug that lasted for a good while, allowing you to wordlessly sob against his shoulder.

"You shouldn't be ashamed. It is a natural bodily process that billions have to go through on a regular basis." He whispered, stroking your hair as you continued letting your emotions out. "You shouldn't be ashamed to receive my help either. I enjoy taking care of the one I love, very much."

Yves gave you a kiss on the forehead. He wiped your tears away with his thumbs and watched you with softened eyes.

Through your hiccups, you told Yves that your blood is ruining his clothes. You wondered if this is an abnormal amount of viscera to be expelling.

"Then, shall I run the bath for you? It will help with your pain as well." He asked, you're amazed at how gentle he would always be with you.

You nodded, making him smile in satisfaction.

"Good. Stay here, you are not in a condition to move on your own."

You nodded once more, he kissed you on the cheek in gratitude before standing up. You felt guilt pang through your heart when you saw that his clothes are already egregiously stained with red from you.

It's such a shame that you're still too disoriented to realize that this is one of the rare times when he would wear white.

Only if you didn't cover the blanket over your head, you would have seen a glimpse of Yves toggling a remote controller. Switching off his specialized, hidden speakers.

Maybe that was why this was the most nauseating and painful cycle.

[shamelesshussythoughts]

I am so tired.

I'm so tired of trying.

I asked CD when to know when it's time to just throw your hands up and quit. His well thought out and intentioned advice was when you've tried everything and nothing has worked. Problem is, I am SO FUCKING TIRED of trying. I also, don't ever know when to quit.

I'm just so exhausted from it all.

Is it too much to ask to be loved or cared for by someone?

I'm watching all my friends who have been through the shits and they're getting married, dating, having kids with their new partners, they're all SO FUCKING HAPPY. They all are finally coming out the other side and I'm still lost in the middle without a flashlight.

I'm happy for everyone. JL is having a spooky little Halloween baby with her boyfriend, CD met someone, other people on my feeds are getting married and engaged, they're going places and taking pictures with these genuinely happy faces, arms linked, kissing, laughing, having the time of their lives with someone who cares. I know what I see isn't the whole story. But what I see is what I want, even if there are squabbles and obstacles behind the scenes, at least they all like each other.

I am just so tired of trying.

Twice in less than a month I have ended up with migraines so bad I've been nauseous. The first was a week or two ago. I had to leave work early and it was the most terrifying drive of my life. Every time I moved my eyes I wanted to vomit, every time I blinked I was afraid my body would decide it was time to nap and I'd doze off. I didn't know what was wrong at first, I've never had a migraine that bad. I picked up headache medicine and tums on my break and they didn't help. I was dry heaving off and on the rest of the afternoon until I finally was able to leave.

Yesterday I felt the tension headache coming on but I made it through the day somehow. By the time I got home I was nauseous, feverish, and in so much pain. Some time after 5:00 when I had dry heaved as much as I could I was able to finally drift off until about 7:00 when I finally felt a little more human.

The stress of this marriage is affecting my physical health now. I cannot and will not live like that. I have to protect myself and my health. I still have a tight neck and lingering head pain. It felt like I was being kicked in the forehead yesterday. Today it's more an occasional rap on the top of my skull.

I'm so tired of the half assed, apologetic lies I get. All the bullshit that is supposed to be said gets said. I mention his drinking is out of control, he says he'll stop next week. Of course, my bitter self scoffed at that. How many weeks ago did he first say next week? It's always next week and never today. I'm tired of waiting for next week, whenever that happens to be. I'm tired of the fighting, I'm tired of the bullshit, I'm tired of the meaningless truce that gets made each time. I'm tired of pretending I've not just been through an emotional paper shredder that is starting to leave more and more frayed nerves behind. I'm tired of crying.

I'm tired of feeling like the only way to make it stop is to hurt myself. I did it a couple weeks ago, I did it again yesterday. If, by some strange chance, anyone sees it, I guess I'll give whatever answer fits best. It hurt so much I had to hurt myself to make what I felt inside quiet down. I kept having these terrible thoughts of slashing my arms to ribbons but I'm not trying to die. I just want the pain to stop. No one knows about this. I can't tell anyone, they'll ask too many questions and maybe attempt to intervene in some way. I don't need a damn intervention. I need someone to hold me while I cry and tell me it's going to be okay until I stop. I need a fucking sincere hug from someone who actually cares.

My hand hurts from punching the wall last night. I think I jammed my middle finger.

What the hell am I going to do tonight?