writing-injuries

I should never be allowed to write for a cartoon series, because if I did I’d include all sorts of stuff just to mess with the sort of folks who like to speculate about the backstories of children’s media.

Like:

There’d be a character with a large, conspicuous facial scar. It’s not there in childhood flashbacks, so clearly they must have suffered it at some point between then and now, but it’s just plain never addressed.

Two major supporting characters have identical designs apart from their hairstyle and clothing, and are played by the same voice actor. No situation ever arises that would require them both to be present in the same scene, so the question of whether they’re related or one character with a dual identity or what never comes up.

A couple of supporting characters have a focus episode where they go off on their own little adventure for a couple of weeks. When they return home at the end of the episode, the protagonist now has, like, a prosthetic hand or something. When they express concern, the protagonist indicates that they’ll tell them the whole story later that evening - and then the episode ends. The change to the protagonist’s character design proves to be permanent, but the audience never does find out what happened.

ALL I CAN THINK ABOUT is Shiro doing a cool move then Keith asking him to teach him so Shiro agrees but needs Lance to help demonstrate

Lance is like sure bc who doesn’t wanna be tossed around by a muscley space daddy.

So Shiro does the move on him but he either underestimates his own strength or has some kind of flashback thing and ends up dislocating/or even breaking Lance’s arm in the process BYE

anonymous asked:

Hey, ive looked everywhere for help with this but found nothing, so i thought id ask here. Sorry in advance if im in the wrong place. Im basicly writing a scene where a character falls off quite a low bridge over a road and lands on a passing car, but im not sure how serious his injuries would be? Im expecting bruising and broken bones but im not sure where and what else? Thanks in advance!

You’ve come to the right place! And thank you for the question. As far as I can tell, it’s blunt force trauma that you will need to be researching. Someone who falls from any distance onto any hard surface–a car being a hard surface–will likely bruise, fracture, and break bones upon impact. First, you’ll need to decide if the character lands on their back or their chest. This will determine what they break and bruise and how the angle of their body collides. For example, if they land on their front, they may bruise or break their ribs, but they also might have a better chance of breaking their fall with their hands–perhaps leading to broken or bruised bones in their hands and arms, but this could save a lot of impact on the rest of their body. Depending on if they land on the windshield (and if they break it) they then might have cuts from the glass. 

Basically, it will be up to you: you choose how they land and on what body parts, at what speed, from what distance, and how hard. From there, you can do your research on broken bones, bruising, etc. As long as your character is injured in some way and you keep it in the realm of possibility–for example, don’t have them fall several stories and only have bruises, or fall from such a height that it would instantly kill them but you only give them broken bones–you can interpret their injuries as you see fit. 

The Simplest of Plans

So here it is, my first attempt at a whump/sickfic/langst story.  

I would love to get feedback on if I have done the genre justice and where I should improve my writing.

DISCLAIMER: Graphic injury descriptions and explicit language are both used in this story so reader discretion is advised.

—————————–

Lance groaned as he cracked his eyes open just a little, as he tried to see where he was he realised that he was slumped over the control panel inside Blue.  He winced as he tried to move his body, a sharp pain racing up his body from every direction, he could feel everything so that was a good sign, right?  

Raising his head he looked out through the window in front of him and he realised that he had crashed in Blue as he saw that he was in a large crater with small fires burning all around him.  He croaked out a pained noise, hoping to call out to his team when he realised that his helmet had been knocked loose in the crash and was sitting on the ground a few feet away.  He needed to get in contact with the others, he had to let them know that Blue had no power and couldn’t fight.

Keep reading

My goal in fandom life is to take characters who probably have permanent brain injuries and write them so.

Concussions are serious and often result in lasting if not permanent damage, folks! Multiple concussions make permanent damage that much more likely! If you are knocked unconscious you have a serious concussion and will not be okay when you wake up, even if you’re only out for a few seconds! You can even get a serious concussion and stay conscious (my personal go to move)!

Brains are tricky things and when they get hit things happen!

anonymous asked:

Hey could you maybe write another physical injury/hurt/comfort fic? I'd really need some comfort and the only way my mind accepts it is if it comes because of physical pain.It's like non-physical pain isn't 'worthy' of comfort for my mind.Logically I know that's stupid but my feelings still beg to differ, if that makes sense.And not even that works in real life lol. I ended up in a hospital a couple months back and I refused to let anyone visit and insisted to help out everyone. My mind sucks :(

She’s not wearing her vest when she gets shot.

She’s not wearing her vest and  the bullet just misses collapsing her lung and she’s in surgery for eight hours.

Eight hours during which it takes the combined strength of the Martian Manhunter and Supergirl to keep Alex from torturing and killing the man who shot her.

Despite their unearthly strength, Alex still gets a few solid hits in.

She tries to wash off most of his blood before they finally tell her that her girlfriend is in recovery, that she can go see her (J'onn and Kara had delivered a few carefully worded threats about the hospital’s “family only” policy ahead of Alex’s arrival, mainly to prevent Alex from straight up murdering a nurse or physician’s assistant).

“Danvers.”

Maggie’s voice is groggy and unfocused, but it’s her voice, it’s her voice, it’s her voice.

“Hey.” Alex’s voice is hoarse from eight hours of screaming and raspy with unshed tears and quaking with she’s alive, she’s okay, she’s okay.

“You look like you’ve been through hell,” Maggie whispers like she’s not the one with oxygen tubes in her nose and IVs in her veins and stitches holding her torso together.

“You were touch and go for a while,” is Alex’s only explanation, and tears flood Maggie’s eyes.

“I’m sorry.”

“What? No. No, Maggie, you have nothing to – why would you – Maggie, please don’t apologize, I should be, I wasn’t there to protect you – ”

“It was a routine patrol, Danvers. It’s fine. I’m fine. I’m not going anywhere, okay? I’m fine.”

And she is, she is – Alex has to repeat it like an unending mantra in her head – but her recovery is going to be long, and if Alex thought Maggie was stubborn before, she reaches a whole new level with this.

Because she’s not supposed to walk unassisted.

But Alex catches her getting up to go to the bathroom alone in the middle of the night because “you looked so peaceful sleeping, Danvers.”

And she’s not supposed to change her own bandages, but Alex catches her trying anyway, because “Why should you have all the fun, Danvers?”

And she’s supposed to take her pain meds regularly, but Alex finds the bottle just as full as she left it when she headed out to the DEO, because “They get me loopy and it’s whatever, it’s just a flesh wound at this point.”

“Maggie. I need you to listen to me, and I need you to try and hear me. Okay?”

Maggie gulps because she thinks she knows what’s coming, and her lip trembles and she clenches her jaw because who wants to be with someone who’s gonna take so long to recover from a stupid injury, who wants to be stuck in the house when she could be playing pool, making out, with someone else?

Someone who’s not scared of getting addicted to the pain meds, someone who doesn’t need the damn things to begin with?

“I know you don’t like talking about yourself. And I know you don’t know how to be taken care of. Because I don’t think anyone’s ever really taken care of you. But I want to, Maggie. I want to take care of you. That’s what I’m here for. But I need you to not sabotage that, okay? You have to let your body heal, okay? You have to try and trust me, just a little bit, just enough to take care of you while you’re still healing up. And then you can go back to pretending you can kick my ass at sparring.”

“I can, I can do it right now, Danvers – ”

Alex laughs and Maggie cracks the first real grin she’s had in days.

“You’re not mad at me?”

“Maggie, how could I possibly be mad at you?”

Maggie’s lip wobbles and her jaw clenches and she looks away.

“I’m all needy, and… and boring.”

Alex sighs and lays down next to her, tossing the covers over both of them and propping herself up on a stack of pillows. She grabs at the remote and puts her arm around Maggie’s shoulders and snuggles her close, flipping on Netflix as she kisses Maggie’s temple.

“Mandatory bed rest, Netflix, comfy pillows, and an even comfier girlfriend? How could I ever be bored, Maggie?”

The next time she has to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night, she pokes Alex awake timidly and lets her help her hobble inside.

The next time she has to change her bandages, she watches how gentle, how loving, how attentive, how skilled, Alex’s hands are, and she makes Alex blush with a series of comments about her hot doctor girlfriend.

The next time she needs pain meds, she lets Alex regulate her amount and makes sure she eats and has plenty of water.

And the next time she feels like she doesn’t deserve to be taken care of, like it’s just a flesh wound and she should be able to take care of it all herself, she lets Alex kiss her and whisper sweet everythings in her ear, and she lets Alex help her heal.

Red Jamie and the White Lady - Part 4

Well since @tammywt was so kind as to ask nicely and @shamelessmiraclemaker also asked nicely, I’ll post this chapter. Monday and Tuesday I have finals I have to write, so I won’t be online at all. Don’t worry, the new Vegas chapter will still post on Tuesday no matter what.

MASSIVE thank you to @diversemediums for her AMAZEBALLS brain. Seriously. She’s pretty incredible. And also to one of my favorite nurses (I don’t care what you say, you’re a nurse to me) @outlandishchridhe for making sure my writing about injury and medical practices was accurate. Catch up on previous installments below:

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3


Claire sat curled up on the couch, blanket tucked in around her, as she nursed her glass of wine. Geillis would be home soon more than likely and Claire could only hope she’d return alone. Picking up the TV remote, Claire flipped through the channels aimlessly, wanting to settle on something that didn’t require her to think or follow a complex plot. She finally settled on some reality program and let her mind rest.

But she felt restless, like there was something important that she’d forgotten. An urge to get up and move about the apartment came over her like an ocean wave, as strong as it was sudden. It had been a long day at the hospital, checking on her patients after their operations. All she really wanted was a quiet night at home where she could turn her mind off and not be anything, yet here she was, mind racing and thoughts bouncing to and fro like an internal tennis match.

She shook herself back to reality when a key in the door unlocked the deadbolt. Claire set down her empty glass and pulled herself out of the slouch she’d fallen into. Geillis waltzed in, face a little flushed and hair slightly out of sorts.

“Good night, then?”

“Oh, quite,” she said with a predatory smile.

“I take it he was a quick one, or you’d have brought him home.”

“Weel, I kent you’d be here. So I shagged him at the bar.”

Claire snorted.

“Not on it, I hope.”

“Of course not. Now… What have yoooouuuu been doing all evening?”

Geillis plopped herself down on the couch, dropping her heels on the floor beside her.

“Just watching some reality program. Nothing exciting. It was a long day.”

“You didn’t go and see that psychic lad again?”

“Again? Geillis, how many times must I tell you. I saw him the day you dragged me there and never again.”

Emerald green eyes narrowed at her, disbelieving. Frank had told her once never to play poker because she was a rubbish liar. She’d never seen the point in lying to begin with, so it hadn’t really mattered. But something about Jamie, about the time they’d spent together, made her hide the information from Geillis.

“But why!? Claire! He asked you back! You took my appointment with him and then he asked you back for another personal reading!”

“As I’ve said at least a dozen times since then, Geillis Duncan, I don’t believe in psychics or spirits or true love. It’s all fairy tales given to children.”

Geillis waved her hand in a dismissive manner and headed off to her bedroom. Judging by the strength of the whiskey on her breath, she’d be passed out within a quarter hour. So, Claire turned the reality program back on and watched it for a while. Still… This nagging sensation in the back of her mind…

With a huff, she got to her feet and dug around the flat for a scrap piece of paper. After scribbling a note, Claire grabbed her keys and went out.

Geillis - Went out for a walk. Be back soon. Don’t worry.

The cool night air bit at her cheeks as she walked, but it soothed her. There was no destination to her walking, she only wanted the movement and fresh air. As she gradually began to relax, her thoughts wandered back to Jamie. True, he’d asked that she not tell anyone he was a Scot. But he hadn’t asked her to conceal her entire visit altogether. That had been… Instinct?

Flashes of that strange, shared dream had come back to her nearly every night. The feel of his lips on her neck, his teeth moving down her chest, the way his fingers moved so deftly in her-

Shaking her head again, she reminded herself it had been his vision, not hers. That thought, however, reminded her of his sudden migraine. The unknown cause was bad enough, but even he’d said it was unusual. Before she could think about it, her feet turned and started taking her down to his shop. They’d never exchanged personal numbers, so she had no other way to contact him.

“Besides,” she muttered to herself. “He claims to be an all powerful psychic. He’ll see me coming. Probably knew I was coming before I did.”

When she arrived at the shop, she noticed the lights were all on. Blinking up at the door, she tried to remember all the turns she’d taken to get there, but couldn’t. She felt as if she’d been entranced and had come to this place completely without thought.

If the lights were on, someone should be home. Stepping up to the door, she knocked on it gently. It swung open on silent hinges as if it had been expecting her.

“Odd,” she said quietly. “He’s not usually one for being creepy.”

Right, she thought. Because you know him so well? You’ve spent maybe two hours with him in the last two weeks and you ‘know’ he’s not one for being creepy? Get a hold of yourself, Beauchamp.

Walking slowly, she moved down the same hall he’d taken her twice. Something about the place felt… off.

“Hello? Is anyone home?”

A deep grunt was her only greeting and she went in search of it.

“Hello?” she called again. “I’m not sure where you are. I’ve only come to help.”

“Here,” answered a voice she didn’t recognize.

What she did recognize, however, was the thread of pain in it. Moving faster, she turned a corner into a kitchen and found him sitting on the floor. He leaned against the wall, one arm clutched protectively over his ribs. One eye was swollen shut, his bottom lip was split, and Claire suspected he had a decent head wound somewhere, judging from the blood coating one side of his face.

“Who the devil are ye?!” he demanded, free hand groping for something to defend himself with.

“Claire!” she said, holding up her hands. “Claire Beauchamp!”

“What do ye want?”

“I only came to see if Jamie was alright. He got a nasty migraine a while back when I was here and I wanted to check if it had come back or gotten worse! I only came to help!”

She knelt down beside him and began prodding his head gently. He yelped and jerked his head away when she found the gash in his scalp, right near a decently sized lump.

“Aye, I ken I’ll need stitches. And I’ve broken my ribs again. I’ll do.”

“Wait,” she blinked down at him, tearing her eyes from the lump on his head. “You’re Scottish too?”

The one eye that wasn’t swollen shut darted up and met hers, wariness and rage warring in it.

“What do ye ken about the lad?”

“That he believes he’s a powerful psychic and he’s got to hide from someone or something. I know we had the same dream about two weeks ago.”

“Who do ye work for?! How did ye find us!”

Claire lurched back when a knife came suddenly to her throat.

“I don’t work for anyone! You mustn’t move like that! You’re only going to cause yourself more pain. And who the bloody hell are you?”

“Jamie’s guardian.”

Getting up, she went to the sink and wet a rag to clean him off with.

“Your name?”

His good eye narrowed in a glare and Claire returned the look, with interest.

“Look, I don’t work for anyone. I sort of had a feeling I needed to come here, so I did. All I wanted to do was make sure he was alright.”

With the blood cleaned off his face, he didn’t look too bad. A little dour maybe, but not as angry as he’d first seemed.

“The lad needs ye.”

“Where is he?”

“Tell me… Are ye true to him? Ye really willna betray him to… them.”

Heaving a sigh, she got to her feet, anxious to find Jamie and find out what the bloody hell was going on.

“Given that I don’t have any bloody clue who they are, no. I won’t betray him. I already promised I’d keep his secret. He knows mine.”

After what felt an eternity he nodded once.

“I’m Murtagh. Jamie made it upstairs to the panic room. We converted the attic. Go upstairs to the library, second door on the left. Pull the book wi’ the red spine that says The Truth About the ‘45. That’ll open the door. Jamie will be inside. I canna get up the stairs wi’ these ribs.”

Taking the stairs two at a time, she paused on the landing and counted the doors on the left hand side. The library wasn’t quite what she’d expected. She’d thought it would be like any old library, filled with old books that were rarely touched. What she found was the oddest assortment of books she’d ever seen, all with creased spines and well-worn pages.

How much time does Jamie spend in here, she wondered.

Peering carefully at the unfamiliar collection, she found the bright red spine that read The Truth About the ‘45 and pulled it. A quiet click sounded before the entire case began swinging away from the wall. Claire leapt back and looked down, seeing a small trail of blood droplets.

“Jesus H…”

“M…”

“Jamie?”

“Murggaahh…”

She rushed into the brightly lit room and turned in a slow circle. Jamie was propped against a wall, much like Murtagh had been, but was in much worse condition.

“Jesus H. Bloody Christ!”

Both of his eyes were nearly swollen shut, blood trickled from his nose in an alarmingly steady stream, his face was a webwork of bruises and scrapes, the knuckles on both hands were raw and bloody. His left hand was pressed against his side and she could see the drying blood staining his skin. Puncture? How deep? How long had he been bleeding?

Not long, by the looks of the small puddle on the floor. The tiny slits of ever-changing blue met her eyes and widened a little.

“Ssncchh,” he mumbled.

“Hush,” she said, dropping to her knees. “You don’t need to speak. Let me take care of you, alright?”

Her hand brushed his shoulder and he winced, causing her to look at it more carefully. She realized his shoulder was completely out of joint, which must be agonizing.

“I need to put your shoulder right. But it’s not in the right position. It’ll hurt like hell, but I promise it’ll feel better when it goes back. Are you ready?”

Eyes locked on hers, he nodded once and she began rolling his arm around, feeling for the right alignment.

“One… Two…” before she got to three, she snapped the shoulder back in place.

Jamie’s whole body went rigid and he muffled a cry. Before a sound could come out, he slumped back and relaxed.

“Th… Thank ye,” he mumbled, voice rasping.

“Oh you won’t be thanking me in a minute. What the hell have you and Murtagh done? Gotten into a fight with an elephant?”

He shrugged and winced at the movement.

“Do you have any sort of medkit around? There’s only so much I can do with my bare hands.”

“In… The cupboard. Red bag.”

Claire got to her feet and rummaged around until she found the medkit. It wasn’t as small as she’d been expecting, almost the size of a duffle. Bringing it with her, she set it down and began looking through it. She needed to listen to his breathing, make sure that stab wound wasn’t too deep. Pulling out the stethoscope, she pressed it to his chest and closed her eyes. Heartbeat. Breathing. Clear lung sounds, which was excellent. No punctured lung then. That meant she could stitch up the wound and finish examining the rest of him. But she needed a clear, clean area, so she cut away his shirt, laying the bloody fabric aside.

It was only oozing a little, but the area around it was smudged with blood. Looking around the room quickly, she spotted a small sink. She waited until the water warmed a little before putting the stopper in. Lathering a fresh bar of soap, she soaked a clean cloth in it before returning to him. Careful not to let the soapy water into the wound, she cleaned around it as best she could. By some miracle, this medkit had anesthetic in it.

“This will help numb you a bit so I can check for debris before I close it up, alright?”

He nodded.

She filled a syringe with the anesthetic before injecting all around the wound and waited a few minutes before gently poking near the wound. When he didn’t flinch away or yelp, she took it as her cue. Another syringe, without a needle, sat filled with sterile saline. With it, she irrigated the wound to clear it of any debris that might have found a way in. As carefully as she could, she peeled apart the edges of the wound to take one last look.

“Alright soldier, looks like it’s clean. Time to close you up.”

Claire took a deep, steadying breath, and began closing up the stab wound. It went faster than she’d expected and she was quite pleased with her work when she looked down at it.

“Now,” she said, stretching her back a little. “Let’s have a look at the rest of you.”

“Is… Is Murtagh…”

“He’s alive, but with bruised or broken ribs. I’m not sure. He wouldn’t let me look at him until after I’d tended you. Did they stab you anywhere else?”

“No, they didna.”

Nodding to herself, she cut away the rest of his shirt and hissed at the dark bruises already forming. She cleaned the blood off his skin to check for any lacerations. Most of the bleeding on his face had come from his nose. Thankfully, that flood had ceased. She wiped gingerly around his face, but only found more bruising. A few places where the skin had broken open, likely due to someone’s fist, were already clotting. There wasn’t much she could do for the split lip at this point, but it too had stopped oozing.

“Well, you don’t have anything more serious going on. How’s your head?”

“Throbbin’ a bit.”

“Like the migraine you had last time I was here?”

He nodded shortly.

“A bit. No’ quite so bad. Weel, it was earlier, but no’ as much now.”

Claire exhaled, wiping her brow with the back of her hand as she sat back on her heels and met his eyes squarely.

“Now, would you care to tell me just what the hell happened here?”

Jamie took as deep a breath he could with his new stitches and nodded again.

“Aye, ye deserve the truth. Ye ken I’m no’ English. I’m hiding out, trying to stay clear of a group that kens how powerful I could be. They want to unleash my power and use it for their own gains. All I want is to have a quiet life, help people when I can. I dinna want to ken the fate of a city or country or entire people.”

“And they want to use you?”

“Aye, they do. Been hunting me for years, ever since…”

The blue of his eyes suddenly shifted into a deep, dark tone.

“Ach, weel. I thought you’d come back, ye ken. I’d seen ye in the hallway, in a different vision, so I thought the knock was you. I see now that the vision I had was you coming in alone, concerned, no’ as I’d thought before.”

“They blitzed you?”

“Something like that, aye. As soon as I kent it wasna you, I called for Murtagh. He’s my godfather, ken? Swore to my mother on her deathbed that he’d keep me safe as if I was his own child. He’s good in a fight, especially an unexpected one like this. I dinna think they meant to stab me, I think they were aimin’ at Murtagh. I just got in the way. But he kept them busy until I could get up here and safe.”

Claire nodded slowly. Jamie visibly relaxed at that, then let out a stifled groan with the movement.

“We really should get you to a hospital.”

“No!” he said, wincing and clutching at his side. “No. That’s the first place they’ll look for me.”

“But-”

“Please,” he said, “please, Claire. Ye canna take me there.”

The look of absolute terror in his eyes swayed her, against her better judgement.

“Fine. But I need to get downstairs and examine Murtagh. He took a nasty blow to the head and I’m afraid he’ll need stitches too. And I’m not leaving you alone up here. Come on, I’ll help you up.”

Taking hold of his left hand, she braced herself and helped him to his feet. He wobbled a little, but a hand on her shoulder helped him steady himself.

“How’s the head.”

“It’s… Starting to hurt a bit.”

His eyes were glazing over as he swayed on his feet.

“Jamie?”

***

“No, mo ghraidh… dinna go just yet.”

She giggled contentedly and nuzzled against him.

“I have to, I’m sorry. If I’m not in the surgery soon, they’ll come looking.”

“I’m no’ ready to let ye go yet…”

With a growl, he rolled above her, pinning her down.

“You brute!”

“Aye! I’m a brute! And I have ye at my mercy!”

Peals of laughter echoed in the small room, filling him with indescribable joy.

“Jamie?”

He swayed again, reaching for the wall to keep from toppling over all together. Everything hurt. Then, it was as if every ounce of pain in his body had moved behind it eyes..

“Christ my head…”

His vision began to blur, though not from visions.

“Damn it, your nose is bleeding again.”

She vanished from his sight for a moment before she returned, gently pushing something into his nose. He resisted the urge to sneeze, but was happy to realize blood was no longer running down his face.

“How bad is the pain? Scale of one to ten, ten being unbearable, excruciating pain?”

“Six and a half.”

“Honestly?”

“Seven.”

Her cool, soft hands held his face between them, keeping his head from wobbling.

“Do you mind if I try something?”

“I dinna mind.”

“Is the pain in your temples?”

“Aye.”

Then her long, elegant fingers pressed against his head. Without meaning to, he leaned into the pressure, eyes drawing closed. A lifetime might have passed right by him in those moments and he never would have noticed. All he knew was the connection they had, the way she drew the pain out of his head.

When she pulled her hands back, he nearly fell over. She smiled up at him, golden eyes glittering.

“Better?”

“Aye, much better. Thank ye.”

“Can you walk now, you think?”

“Verra slowly, but aye. I can walk.”

It took some time, but they got down the stairs and back to the kitchen. Murtagh wasn’t on the floor, at least, but he looked half dead. Half his face was caked with dried blood, his hair matted with it as well.

“Alright soldier, your turn.”

Jamie eased into a chair and took some amount of pleasure in watching Murtagh go through the same examination he’d just finished. She stitched up his scalp and cleaned the blood from his face and beard.

When she was satisfied they were both as cleaned up as she could make them, she sat down with a huff.

“Will they come back?”

“No’ tonight. Stabbing Jamie will likely get them in trouble. It was meant for me.”

“So why not kill you and wait for Jamie to emerge?”

Murtagh shrugged and Jamie envied the ease of his movement.

“Dinna ken. But they’ll no’ be back tonight. Ye can head home, lass. I’ve got Jamie.”

“Not with that head wound. I’m not going anywhere until I’m sure the both of you are,” she interrupted herself with a yawn. “Until you’re stable.”

Jamie glanced up at Murtagh, who’s good eye was locked on Claire. He had the most curious expression on his face, one Jamie couldn’t figure out.

“Get some rest, lass. I’m no’ falling asleep for a good while yet.”

“I couldn’t possibly,” she said, yawning again.

Claire leaned forward and folded her arms on the table, resting her head on top of them. She was asleep a moment later.

“Did she touch ye?” Murtagh asked in a harsh whisper.

“What?” Jamie asked, staring blearily at his godfather. “Why?”

“Just answer the bloody question. Did she touch ye?”

Jamie felt his frown deepen.

“Aye… She did.”

“When? What was happening?”

“She’d got me on my feet to come down to she could tend ye. I started havin’ a vision again. The pain was awful. Thought my head was gonna burst. And then she… I dinna ken what it was, Murtagh. But it was beautiful. Like she just reached in and pulled the pain out.”

“And the vision?”

Jamie shook his head before wincing.

“It was over before she did anything. Murtagh, what does this mean? You kent Mam and Da, Willie. I dinna ken what’s happening to me.”

Murtagh made a valiant effort at smiling, though it ended up looking more garish than soothing. It did nothing to tame the fear churning inside him. His visions were getting out of control and he didn’t know what to do. Anyone who might have helped him, who’d gone through this before, was dead. Jenny didn’t have the same powers and not in the same intensity. Loathe as he was to admit it, Jamie was growing fearful of his own power.

“You’re growing, lad. I didna see Brian come into his full powers, ken. But I saw what Ellen did for him a time or two. They were a True Pair, aye? Meant for one another.”

“Aye, Jenny said so. Mam broke an engagement wi’ another man to marry Da.”

Murtagh waved his hand dismissively.

“Ach. That was part of it. But yer da was one of the most powerful psychics in the world. His visions were strong, like yours are, started causin’ him problems. Until he met Ellen. What she did for him… I dinna ken if there’s words strong enough for it. But the look on your face was the same he had after Ellen healed him.”

“Mam was… Mam was a healer?”

“Aye, like yon Claire.”

A tight ache formed in Jamie’s chest at the thought of his mother. He didn’t remember much about her, and only had a few photographs of her. Murtagh had known her for a long time, though he didn’t speak of it often.

“What does it mean?” he asked, heart pounding. “That she’s a healer like Mam?”

“It means ye need to keep her close, aye? If yer visions get worse, like Brian’s did, they could rightly kill ye. Ye need her.”

A sudden realization hit Jamie like a ton of bricks.

“Da didna die of a stroke, did he?”

Murtagh shook his head slowly.

“No, lad. It was his visions what killed him. We only had it written up as a stroke, to try and keep you and Jenny safe. Losing Ellen meant he had no healer to keep the visions from getting too strong.”

Jamie looked at Claire, sleeping peacefully in front of him. A dark tendril of curly hair brushed her pale cheek, making her look heartbreakingly young and innocent. He swallowed and shook his head.

“She’s got a man, Murtagh, a life. I canna ask her to gi’ that up.”

“When ye first read her tea leaves, and then her palms, what did ye see?”

Jamie closed his eyes to recall the images.

“No, lad! Dinna do it that way or you’ll start bleedin’ again and she needs time to recover. Just think, dinna call it up again. Use memory, not power.”

Rather than recall the images, he recalled the memories.

“I told her she had a choice to make, her life branched into two paths. One was uneventful, but comfortable. The other was more exciting. Neither would bring destruction.”

“What do ye think that means?”

“I dinna ken,” Jamie complained, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I try not to interpret things for other people, ye ken that. And I dinna look into my own future.”

Murtagh nodded slowly.

“Aye. But maybe just think about what that might mean for her. And for you. She already keeps your secrets. And she was drawn here tonight, like she kent ye needed her. Your power calls to hers, they compliment each other, ken. Ye need her, but she needs you too.”

Jamie’s eyes moved to Claire again, her mouth hanging slightly open in sleep. He wondered if she would have kept herself awake under more normal circumstances.

“Did it hurt her? When she healed me?”

“Dinna ken, but I dinna think so. Ellen explained it to me like this. It’s no’ so much that she takes the pain into herself, but she channels it out o’ you.”

“And it willna hurt her?”

“As long as she doesna go too far, no,“ Murtagh responded, shaking his head. His good eye moved to Claire, exhausted and dead to the world, and his expression softened. "This was, I’d be willin’ to bet, the first time she did this sort o’ healing. I’m surprised she made it down the stairs, let alone stitched me up.”

Jamie took in the sight of her; her pale skin; her brown, curly hair ruffling over her shoulders. If left in that position, she would wake up sore. He couldn’t bear the thought of her in any sort of pain.

“What are ye thinkin’ lad?”

Jamie knew, if left in that position, she would wake up sore. He couldn’t bear the thought of her in any sort of pain.

“That Claire willna wake verra happy if we leave her slumped over like a sack of grain.”

Murtagh rolled his eye.

“And just how do ye expect us to get her onto the couch?”

“No’ the couch. She saved our lives tonight. The spare bedroom, at least.”

The eye went wide enough that Jamie half worried it would fall out of his head.

“Up the stairs?! Have ye gone mad? Claire didna say ye’d been clouted o’er the heid!”

Jamie started to shrug, but caught himself.

“I havena been clouted o’er the head, Murtagh. Maybe I’ve gone mad, but she did save our lives.”

Murtagh pursed his lips, wincing as the split began oozing again.

“Aye. And ye’ve a useless arm. How do ye propose we get her up the stairs? Magic?!”

Jamie rolled his eyes.

“Ye have visions, Jamie. Ye dinna lift things with yer mind.”

“Come on. I’ll no’ leave her here.”

Between the two of them, they somehow got her up the stairs. There was one moment when Jamie was sure Murtagh was about to drop her, but they kept themselves together. Murtagh lay her on the bed and left, seeing no other need. Jamie heard him shuffle down the stairs and putter about the kitchen.

Jamie struggled for a moment before removing her shoes, setting them on the floor beside the bed. Then he brushed back the curls on her forehead, staring at her beautiful face. Before he knew what he was doing, he leaned down and pressed his lips to the top of her head.

“Rest, mo ghraidh,” he whispered in Gaelic, the endearment from his vision coming all too easily in the present. His thumb softly stroked her cheek. “Get peace while you can, for I fear your life has been thrown into chaos by mine.”


Continue to Part 5

3

both art and writing commissions are open

if you’re wondering who tea hope is, hi that’s me. i have lots of blogs, the active ones i run individually being @annaveth​, @sadrien​, @katsukiyurj​, @altaya​, and @lesmiserablc​. i just finished my senior year of high school and am having some trouble finding a summer job. i have to pay for college so here we are

for the time being, i’m going to open 3 slots for art commissions and 3 slots for writing commissions. i’ll open commissions again when i finish the first batch, and i may be changing the amount of slots as time goes on

if you’re interested in commissioning me, please email me at teahopeb@gmail.com. if you have any questions, you’re welcome to either send me an ask to any of my tumblrs or send me an email!

there’s a bit of different information for art commissions v writing, so to see more details, please read below the cut

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Ice pack - Yuuri

“Oh, my poor Yuuri. That looks awful!” Victor frets, running a gentle finger over Yuuri’s swollen cheek, before pressing an ice pack to the irritated skin. “What happened, love?”

Yuuri flinches away from the cold touch, his cheeks going a bit red. “I fell,” he says quietly, refusing to make eye contact.

Behind him, Yuri starts snickering. Victor whips around to stare at him, his eyebrows raised. “And just what is so funny about my fiancé’s injury?”

Yuri waves him off. “It’s not that he’s hurt. It’s how he got hurt that’s amusing.”

“What does that mean?” Victor asks, puzzled.

“He’s just laughing at me because I fell while skating and I’m supposed to be graceful!” Yuuri says desperately, his entire face turning bright pink. He shoots Yuri a pleading look.

If he was hoping for mercy, he’s disappointed; Yuri just grins wider. “Sorry katsudon, I can either be disgusted by this or laugh at you.” He turns to Victor. “Your precious fiancé fell because he got distracted by your ass.”

There’s a moment of shocked silence; Yuuri wonders if it’s possible to sink through the floor through the power of sheer embarrassment.

Pointers on Writing Concussions

So, I noticed a recent trend in a lot of fanfictions when it comes to concussions in particular. From what I’ve seen, it looks like it’s almost no big deal and they don’t have too many symptoms. They might just stay in bed, be a bit tired and it’s brushed off completely. It’s pretty vague when it comes down to description.

After a hecka lot of research, I’m finding this to be an improper depiction of concussions.

There are some cases where it may be a minor concussion, and this would be okay. In the terms of ‘Miraculous Ladybug’, where we have superheroes flinging themselves around with their heads unprotected, this may not be the case.

Concussions can be caused by car crashes, sudden movements, or hits to the head. Hits to the neck can also cause concussions. They can also develop overtime, and can take months to years to actually heal. Symptoms will not show for a few days, making it hard to diagnose. Fanfiction-wise, I’ve seen characters getting hits far harder than a sudden jerking motion, and would surely cause more damage and trauma to the brain.

Not all concussions will cause fatal symptoms or permenent damage- but with this sort of head impact symptoms can, and will, be more severe and take more than a few days or a week to heal. These types of injuries are not ones to be handled at home, and may need temporary (sometimes immediate) hospitalization.

They can also be pretty dangerous though, and can be accompanied with internal or external bleeding of the head. Some cases have had fractures in the skull as well. Blood clots in the head can also occur, which can result in stroke. Now even more severe symptoms are brought up. These types of strokes can result in blindness even.

The following are a few potential symptoms of concussions:

• Seizures
• Nausea and Vomiting
• Headaches (can be severe)
• Dizziness or Disorientation
• Memory loss
• Confusion
• Loss of coordination
• Ringing in the ears
• Excessive fatigue
• Irritability
• Sensitivity to light
• Mild depression
• Difficulty speaking (slurring words)
• Sensitivity to sound
• Personality changes
• Blurred vision
• Loss of conciousness

Concussions are basically big ol’ hits to the head with lots of different symptoms. A tad more description can certainly help a ton. It can happen with lots of other injuries as well. Getting a good background on the injury you’re working with can help you a bunch.

I hope this helps the next time you have to write your characters ramming their heads into things!

Winchesterprincessbride’s Favorite Fics of 2016

I have read many great pieces of fanfiction in 2016. I decided to go back thru my archive and pick one for each month and share with you all. Hopefully you will find something you haven’t read.  And since it’s my list I am including my favorite story that I wrote this year because I can :)   Enjoy!

January-Faking it series by @ilostmyshoe-79      This series starts out with the reader telling Dean she has faked it before.  Dean says you wouldn’t with me.  Add a makeup mag full of things each want to try and you have an amazing series. NSFW

February- Getting Warmer by @kittenofdoomage My favorite A/B/O of all time, and the one that motivated me to write my own.  Alpha! Sam and Omega! Reader hate each other, or do they? When the reader gets hurt and is forced to recover at the bunker, does her feelings change? NSFW

March- Amazing by @dancingalone21   Jensen and Reader who is the caterer on the show constantly butt heads.  In the second part Jared locks them in his basement during a Halloween party.  She SAID she was gonna write a third part.  I am patiently waiting…….(not really)

April- Close Every Door- by @jotink78   The reader is kidnapped, and Team Free Will+Crowley move Heaven and Earth to find her.  But who took her is a BIG surprise.  The torture the reader goes through breaks her mind but not her spirit.

May-Finally by @dirtysupernaturalimagines   Soulless! Sam smut. OMG! So very hot! One of my all-time favorites. This Sam is truly frightening, and he doesn’t think of the reader as a sister like the old Sam did.  And the reader is terrified of him.  Or is she? NSFW

June-Hunter heal thyself by @khorybannefin  This one is a riot!  The guys leave the sick reader in Castiel and Gadreel’s while on a hunt.  Chaos ensues. I laughed out loud at this one!

July-Dean Winchester & Donna Hanscum drabbles by @deansdirtylittlesecretsblog    Every since I read the first one of these, I have been shipping these two so hard I swear I have internal injuries! Mimi writes Donna so well, and the progression of Dean and Donna’s relationship is a pleasure to read. (Some NSFW)

August- Choose Your Own Supernatural Adventure-Sept 2016 by @littlegreenplasticsoldier     I was lucky enough to be involved in this twice and it was a blast both times.  Remember those “Choose Your Own Adventure” books you loved as a kid? Here they are in Supernatural form.  The organization this took was crazy!

September- A perfect Storm by @nichelle-my-belle   This was one of the most original stories I have ever read, and it had me on the edge of my seat. It starts out as a reverse French Mistake.  Just when you think you know where it’s going, YOU DON”T.

October- It’s the Great Pumpkin Dean Winchester by @zepppie   Dean gets his head stuck in a pumpkin.  “nuff said.  I was crying I was laughing so hard reading this!

November- Prophet City by @winchesterenthusiast   This is an AU where the reader is a reporter and Dean is a Batman-type superhero called the Hunter and Charlie is his tech genius. The Marvel/DC geek in me LOVES this series!

December- None of Your Business- by @winchesterprincessbride Another A/B/O because let’s be honest I am A/B/O trash.  A/B/O AU with Alpha! Sam Wesson and Alpha! Dean Smith fighting over Omega! reader at Wesson Technology. So many twists and cliffhangers, and one MOTHER of a twist at the end! (Chapters 4&5 NSFW)

tagging  @ilostmyshoe-79  @kittenofdoomage @winchesterenthusiast @zepppie​ @nichelle-my-belle  @littlegreenplasticsoldier​ @deansdirtylittlesecretsblog @khorybannefin​  @jotink78 @dancingalone21 @dorky-and-i-know-it​ @a-sea-of-fandoms @moonlitskinwalker @skybinx-blog @percywinchester27

lheonce  asked:

hi! first, i love your blog, and it really helped me with writing injuries. quick question, though, would it be possible to lose the ability to see from one eye due to significant head trauma?

Hey there! Thanks for writing in, and I’m super glad I can be of use!!

Yes, this is definitely possible. Blindness from both eyes requires much more damage, but one of three things could happen to cause single-eye blindness from trauma.

First, The eye itself, remember, is part of the head, and could be physically damaged.

Alternatively, direct trauma or swelling (from bleeding or from inflammation) could damage the optic nerve on the affected side.

It’s also possible to have interpretation issues (in the visual cortex) that could lead to loss of vision in one side of the visual field. To quote a frankly phenomenal brainline.org interview:

Visual field loss is a bit more complicated. Think of your visual field as a pie. Visual field loss is categorized by which part of the pie is affected.

  • If you have hemianopsia, half of your pie — or visual field, either vertically or horizontally — is gone; you cannot see it.
  • If you have quadranopsia, a quarter of your visual field is lost.
  • If you have homonymous hemianopsia, the same quarter or half is lost in both eyes.
  • If you have bitemporal hemianopsia, you are missing the outer half (or inner half) of both the right and left visual field.

Hemianopsia and quadranopsia are the most common types of visual field losses; but going back to the pie analogy, other types of field losses include loss around the edges of the pie or loss from the middle going outward. And, of course, there can be differing combinations depending upon the individual injury.

Visual field loss is caused by damage to the nerve fibers that carry the visual signal from the eyes to the visual cortex and/or connect operations between different parts of the brain.

So there you have it. That link has information about coping strategies for those affected by visual field loss and more – including a fascinating differentiation about spatial neglect (whether or not the person is aware that a certain area of space exists), so it’s very much worth a read.

Best of luck and happy trails!

xoxo, Aunt Scripty

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