tubes are leaking

Here is the latest addition to my sketching spoonie project. The model offered this description:

“When I was diagnosed with gastroparesis, at the same time I was told I would need a feeding tube. Unfortunately, my stomach doesn’t work at all – if I eat food it just sits there for days on end. I welcome the addition of the feeding tube, as it gives me some control back, but the tube isn’t the easiest thing to adjust to. Granulation tissue occurs because the body tries to constantly heal the tube site, and the site leaks making it worse. It gets so sore and it bleeds, and the pain is awful. The only treatment available to me is to cauterize it, which can sometimes make it worse, and having an open wound is always putting you at risk of infection. It is a terrible part of the tubie lifestyle, but it is a sacrifice that I have to make.”

Thank you again to everyone who has modelled and generally supported this project! If you are interested or have questions or comments, you can message me here or at my address!

Can’t Fight This Feeling (Part One)

Pairings: foreshadowed Scotty+Alex, Bones+FemaleOC

Warnings: Friendship Fluffiness (Between reader and OC), Injury to reader, Scotty, Language, Grumpy Bones, First Ever Posted Fic!(Im’ not very proud of it..), NOT Beta’d (I don’t have anyone…But I edited slightly)

Queenies Babble: HAPPY BIRTHDAY ALEX!!!!!! @youre-on-a-starship  Also, this will be two parts… I kinda started something bigger than I planned….

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I’ve always sympathized with women going through their periods because it sounds uncomfortable and painful but since my surgical tubes drains are leaking and I’m constantly getting blood running down my leg and ruining my underpants so I really feel y'all now

The Client

Written for the prompt:
“Cas’ car breaks down so he takes it to Bobby’s garage for repairs. Dean is the one who works on the car…”
taken from here with a kind permission of amazing @destieldrabblesdaily.

3.5k, AO3 version here.

“Lincoln Continental Mark V,” Bobby said, handing Dean the keys.

The name itself made Dean wince; the car should have been no better, not with its age and make. He did not have a clue why would someone want to repair it.

“The client’s waiting outside,” Bobby added. “Wants to kiss his treasure goodbye.”

He was, indeed. A man in a black Walmart suit, standing beside the light-brown Lincoln with a solemn look of an orphan near a fresh grave. Dean could see just his messy dark hair and back, straight as a billboard. Even through the rusty blinds of Bobby’s office, his first thought was that the client and the car were worth each other.

“He wants us to bury it, uh?”

“He wants its brakes fixed, you idjit,” Bobby snapped, and Dean smirked at a sudden guess that a fancy funeral had already been offered.

“Okay, Bobby,” he said. “The grandpa’ll get a helluva treatment here. I’ll see to it”.

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