nosebleeds

anonymous asked:

for nano! how do you treat an unconscious person with a heavy nosebleed? thank you!

Hey nonny! Your helping character would turn them on their side, just like if they were vomiting, to keep the blood from draining into their airway. If they have suction on hand, they might use that too if things got REALLY bad and it looked like they might choke. 

Thanks for the ask and good luck! 

xoxo, Aunt Scripty

[disclaimer]

sometimes I think
I am nothing
nothing but ash and dust, but glass and galaxies 
that I will one day burn myself up from the inside 


because my heart contains more love than my head can handle 
the blood rushing through my veins
pounds away at this cage inside my chest
just aching to drift into another person’s undeserving bones


and I don’t want to give my fragmented body parts up for free
even though I never really had a choice in the matter
even though I never really succeeded in throwing away the key
because still the wildfire claws it’s way out


and I wonder
will I ever be loved?
will I ever be wanted?
will I ever be good enough?


and I wish I could drink some cheep liquor to drown out these thoughts
but I can’t fucking stand the taste
the way it burns my throat and makes me cough
I’ve already spent enough time tasting the flames
I’ve already spent enough time sick to my stomach for hours


I don’t need liquor to make me hurt
love does that enough already

—  why I don’t drink by Abby S

he’s worth the risk time and time again
because with his hand burning into my skin, I have hope once more


and the blood that stains him doesn’t take away his goodness
and the stars that betray him don’t mean I forsake my devotion 


“why are you always trying to save him” asks my head
“because he’s worth saving” whispers my heart


and my mouth can never quite get out the words
of just how much he means to me, just how much I love him

—  Unfinished Stories #617 by Abby S

we started this love in secret
me with an indention that’s the shape of you 
from where your fingers left bruises on my body 
left marks for me to linger on when we’re back in the glaring spotlight 


and I was wreck when I met you, a hurricane destroying everything 
but you stood there in the middle of rain
and waited for the end of the downpour so you could wrap me up
and build a fire just to keep me warm 


and I have learned that the universe simply falls away
when you say my name 
and I deserve you and you deserve the world knowing you are worth it
that you worth everything 


and if I could scream about how brave you make me
I would
because I want the world to know just how much I love you
I should be making the constellations look like your name


but this love is quiet and it’s ours
and so I’ll wait

—  golden and tattooed with the echoes of you by Abby S
Mind Over Matter

Read it on Archives: http://archiveofourown.org/works/12195825

*I was in a mood™ when I wrote this.*

There is…something holding his throat.

Holding is actually a pretty loose term; in actuality, something—or someone—is grabbing it with an intense grip, enough that it makes him lose the breath of air that he gasps into his lungs. It hasn’t completely stolen his airways yet, but he can just feel that pair of thumbs pressing harder and harder into the column of his neck and, he’s not sure why, but he knows he deserves it.

Oikawa…

A familiar voice, but faint past the blood rushing through his ears. Oikawa can feel the way his body picks up with adrenaline pricking through his veins; he knows his body knows that it’s dying—or going to die—and it’s trying to fight back. Oikawa is too, trying to fight back at the invisible force that he can’t quite see—the room is dark, pitch black openness that he can’t even tell who his assailant is—but his wiggling and squirming warrant nothing but a tighter grip and the next time he tries to suck in for air, he’s struggling.

Oikawa blinks several times, tries to get his vision adjusted; tries to see who his killer could be—he might as well know if he were going to die by their hands—but all he can hear are the linger whispers of his name, so light and airy that it almost sounds like he’s imagining it. It kills him because it’s said in that familiar tone, but he can’t place the name…!

“Oikawa.”

He gasps.

Iwa-chan…?

The picture of the person in front of him becomes so clear that it’s crystal. He sees Iwaizumi—can make out the ridges of his nose, the contours of his cheek, his frown, that furrow in his brow, everything that just screams Iwa-chan, his Iwa-chan!—and he can even feel the familiar callouses on his hands that are on his neck—

And that’s when it registers that Iwa-chan is the one holding his throat.

Choking—Iwa-chan’s choking him.

Oikawa thrashes immediately, startled cry more of a wheezing breath as he can’t suck in enough air to put voice behind it. It’s terrifying—he’s scared! Iwa-chan why…? But there’s no emotion portrayed on the other boy’s face. He can’t even find that hint of annoyance or that tiny frown he sees when he knows he’s really fucked it up with Iwaizumi; he is, for a lack of a better words, dead, even though Oikawa’s now the one not breathing.

He shuts his eyes because he’s afraid—not afraid of dying, which is something that should have happened years ago; no, he’s afraid because Iwaizumi is going to kill him. His best friend, his Hajime, after all of these years he was finally done carrying the luggage that came with being with Oikawa’s friend—maybe Iwaizumi was done enough that he, like all the others, didn’t think he should exist.

Oikawa stops fighting; he has no reason to keep going, no reason to fight Iwaizumi like this.

His consciousness rolls in and out—his body is burning. His chest aches like somethings missing and he isn’t sure if it’s the lack of air or watching his best friend try to kill him.

He doesn’t have another gasp to give; his air has all but run out inside him for too long. His eyes roll back and he knows this is it, this is it, this is it—

It’s Iwaizumi’s scream that brings him back to reality.

Without even a cohesive thought, Oikawa releases his own telekinetic grip on his own neck, allowing the air to rush back into his body like a swift punch; he sputters, he chokes, and it almost feels worse to be breathing again than it did to lose all of it in the first place.

Past the violent rush of blood and the intense ringing sound piercing through his psyche, he can hear voices talking to him—his mother talking through one of her dreams in the next bedroom, the neighbor next door wondering if he should get up and change the baby’s diaper or wake his wife, the stray cat on the roof’s thoughts on getting the bird—

His telepathy is working a mile a minute and he can’t find the strength or energy to try to control it. Oikawa groans, bringing trembling hands to his ears to try and block out the incessant noise—it’s too much, oh god, why couldn’t he just have died, why couldn’t he be dead—

Hey, a gentle voice—he knows that voice, that’s Iwa-chan’s voice—speaks in his mind, I’m right here Tooru…I’ve got you. Try to take deep breaths. Just listen to my thoughts, okay? Don’t focus on anything but me…

Oikawa blinks once and tries to focus more on the soothing talking in his thoughts.

When Iwaizumi tells him to take a breath, he does.

When Iwaizumi tells him to release the breath, he does.

When Iwaizumi explains that he’s going to move his head into his lap, Oikawa lets him. Lets him start dabbing tissues to his nose after Iwaizumi explains that it’s bleeding again.

He can’t help it, but he does make the smallest whimpers when Iwaizumi tilts his chin—his throat hurts to even think about, let alone touch; he already knows he’s going to have some nasty bruising and vaguely he wonders if the marks will be worse than last time.

“Don’t think about.”

Iwaizumi’s voice surprises him; Oikawa hadn’t realized he’d created a link between them so Iwaizumi could hear his thoughts too.

“I know you didn’t mean to make one without asking. It’s fine, it’s not overwhelming like last time.”

Oikawa makes a noise and tries to pick up his head—he needed to break the link, he didn’t want to flood Iwa’s mind too…

“Shh…don’t worry. We’re fine. You can keep your mind calm, I know you can. You’re not going to hurt me…”

Now if only we could get you to stop hurting yourself…

The thought slips in Iwa’s brain and Oikawa knows he isn’t meant to hear it; there’s a lot of things he’s never supposed to hear but he does, because of this stupid, worthless power—

“Stop. Stop trying to think like that. This power is a part of you Oikawa…actually no, we aren’t going to focus on this right now. We’re focusing on you and the first thing we need to do is get your medication. Is it still in the medicine cabinet down stairs?”

Oikawa opens his mouth to respond and it’s right about then that his mother comes scurrying into the room in her blue silk robe with hair askew, looking like she’d been woken suddenly from a dead sleep.

“Is he okay?!” Of course her empath powers are going wild now; she always could sense when he was suffering like this.

He tries to open his mouth again, but Iwaizumi answers for him instead in that calm, everything is going to be okay voice of his, “He needs his medicine and a glass of water if you don’t mind, Auntie. I think his nosebleed has stopped for now.”

His mom leaves without another word and Oikawa watches her go almost listlessly.

You don’t deserve all the trouble I bring you.

He rolls his eyes up because he knows Iwaizumi’s heard it, he sees that pinched look in his brow and that purse in his lips when he thinks he’s being too hard on himself. To his surprise, Iwaizumi doesn’t give him another lecture on how he shouldn’t be thinking this badly to himself. Instead, he leans down and places a chaste kiss to his forehead, gently resting them together.

Love you Tooru. Is what his voice says in his head.

You shouldn’t. He thinks back immediately because he really can’t help it.

“I do anyways,” Iwaizumi returns, this time out loud, “I really love you, Tooru.”

Iwaizumi picks his head up suddenly as if he’s sensed something, giving Oikawa’s face a once over. He quickly reaches for one of the boxes of tissues near the bed and starts dabbing at his bleeding nose again, trying to soak up all the blood.

Oikawa doesn’t know where the strength comes from, but he finally manages to shut out the link between him and his best friend. Iwaizumi makes a concerned noise when he does, patting his cheeks a few times when Oikawa grows drowsy from the extra energy being expelled.

“C’mon Tooru, just stay awake a bit more. Take one of your capsule locks at least.”

Oikawa looks to him almost apathetically, why do you even bother?

Oikawa knows for a fact that the link has been broken between them; he knows because he can’t feel Hajime like he can when they are connect—a strong force by his side or the safety net holding behind back—so he doesn’t expect it when Hajime, again, leans down—this time to kiss his lips—and tell him with all the seriousness and surety he can muster:

“Because I love you, Tooru.” He says it vocally and within his mind that Oikawa’s still unwillingly reading.

Oikawa blinks and he doesn’t understand why, but he almost wants to laugh.

He wonders how many times Hajime will say that before it starts to mean something.

I was told once that I’m half sunshine, half storm
that I can change the universe with my faith
that I can challenge the rules with my will


and the stars that I spend eons writing about
they don’t carry a fraction of what I can do


because I was born a miracle
and I was born a warrior 
and those parts of me still rest inside in my bones


so yes, I am made up of blood and of stories and most of all of courage
you will never be able to shackle me to the ground


because I
I was made to fly, I was made to conquer 
so that’s what I’ll do

—  And Kindness Will Always Run Through by Abby S