#migraines. nausea

[antiadvil]

Okay but can you really blame someone with chronic migraine for having horrific food poisoning symptoms from 3-4am and then just going meh no one needs to know about this it’s probably just the usual

[isbergillustration]

Pain. Death. Suffering.

[sickandinlove7]

The barometric pressure drops and suddenly I cannot function.

Chronic illness is ridiculous.

[bellysoupset]

Not sure if you are still taking Vince and Wendy dabble requests but I’ve always loved when a boyfriend is called up by a friend to come get ‘his girl’ because she is  sick and then after picking up their girlfriend, looking at her in the passenger seat (who is other passed out asleep, miserable/embarrassed, about to/ is throw up) and just thinking ‘dam that’s my girl I love’ or am similar

Not sure if it’s something that could be turned into a dabble but thank you anyway for reading 😄

Alright anon, so I might've messed up bc I started the fic on the wrong POV but I hope you like it anyways!

--------------

Come Get Your Girl

"Marshall, wait up!" Jonah caught up with her outside of the maternity wing. Wendy rubbed her face, not bothering to smile as she would have with anyone else but her best friend. Jon wouldn't mind if she was cranky.

"Yes?" Wen asked, continuing to walk side by side with him. She had only gone there to update the family of one of her neonatal patients, but was already heading back to the ER, "is it urgent?"

"How long have you had that headache?" Jonah held up the elevator door for her and Wendy's eyebrows jumped up. She thought she was being so inconspicuous, not wincing in front of people, only taking her Tylenol out of Jonah's sight...

Truth was, Wendy had a killer headache since morning. It sucked severely as she woke up with Vince kissing her awake, wanting nothing more to bask in his undivided attention, only for the throbbing to start before she even managed to have breakfast.

Through the day the pain had changed from a dull throbbing, into a stabbing sensation behind her eyes. She had lied down in the doctor's headquarters during break — in hindsight, that was probably what had given her away — but the pain was relentless. She felt nauseous and a little out of it, however since there were no surgeries scheduled, Wendy couldn't bring herself to cave and go home. Besides, she only had two more hours on her shift...

"It's not that bad," Wen lied and Jonah rolled his eyes. Instead of pressing the button for the ER floor, Jon hit the Garage 1, shoving her hand away as she tried to press the correct one.

"You're heading home, Dee."

"Don't be ridiculous, I'm working," Wendy hissed, forcing up a smile as the elevator stopped to let more people in. Jonah seemed very pleased with himself. Her stomach rolled, the pain making her face feel tingly.

"Not anymore, you're not," Jonah whispered back, "Claire is gonna cover for you. Go home before it turns into a full blown migraine."

Vaguely, Wendy wondered just how scared she had made him that one time he hadn't switched with her when she had a migraine, only to find her horribly sick later. Or how guilty.

"I'm not Claire's problem, she did a 24 hour shift two days ago..."

"Drop it," Jonah hissed, crossing his arms to his chest and waiting as the elevator trip continued.

Wendy didn't really have any desire to fight him. She wanted to go home, the nausea was climbing steadily and her neck was stiff, eye sight getting all hazy around light sources. This was a migraine on the making for sure.

Nevertheless, she wasn't looking forward to driving home. She didn't entertain the idea that Jon would drive her, he was on a 24 hour shift himself, all but loaded up with caffeine.

"My keys," Wendy mumbled, blinking several times as the elevator stopped at the ER floor, the first main one, and the sound flooded as more people got in.

"I got them," Jonah answered, holding out her purse — he had it the whole time? She truly hadn't spared Jon a look so far — "but you're not driving."

"You're not taking me home, that would get you in so much trou-"

"You have a boyfriend, you know?" Jonah rolled his eyes, just as the elevator stopped on the first floor of the garage and people immediately moved out. Wendy's mouth snapped shut, relief flooding her as she saw Vince leaning against her car.

She was so used to him being away and out of reach, it was a weird change to have him be there at the drop of a hat, whenever she needed him. Wendy's eyes stung and she braced against a concrete pillar, breathing through the pounding in her head, the nausea, the flood of emotion.

"Hey, honey," Vince's voice was incredibly soft, gentle fingers dusting over her cheeks as he gathered her hair back, away from her mouth in case she was gonna be sick, "you're not feeling well, uh?"

"I didn't know you- I didn't know Jon called you..." Wendy sniffled, pressing her forehead to the rough, cold texture of the column.

Vince let out a chuckle, "more like summoned me to collect my girl," he teased, planting a kiss on the top of her head, "take a deep breath, we're going home as soon as you feel like moving."

Jonah let out a happy noise, "well, missing accomplished, she's all yours," he seemed terribly pleased with himself. Wendy heard him patting Vince's back, then say in a much gentler voice, "feel better, darling."

"Thank you..." She mumbled, daring to raise her head in order to look at him. Jonah flashed her a smile, then jogged away and back to the elevators.

Wendy's shoulders dropped and only then she fully looked at Vince.

He was smiling at her, lopsided, a dimple deep in his cheek. Curls down and damp, after gym shower she assumed. He fished out his aviator sunglasses from the neck of his shirt, "put these on, hon," Vince planted them on her face, crouching down so they were eye to eye, "how's the pain?"

"A six out of ten," Wendy told him truthfully, "feel queasy..."

"Too queasy for the drive?" Vince wrapped an arm around her shoulders, guiding her to the car and taking her purse away so he could retrieve the keys. Vin always looked so comical in her sedan, pushing the driver's seat all the way back and still looking cramped in. Wendy collapsed on the passenger seat.

"Not too queasy... I don't know," she switched up her answer halfway through, as a little sickly burp came up. Migraine nausea was different from food poisoning or the stomach flu. Awful just the same, but with none of the undercurrent of shame she couldn't help when dealing with G.I issues.

"Lean back," Vince lowered her seat carefully, then went through the glovebox in search of a bag, "if you want we can just sit here for a minute..."

"No," Wendy sighed, curling up and opening a thankful smile as Vin passed her a plastic bag, "I wanna go home."

"Alright," her boyfriend leaned in, pressing a kiss to her clammy forehead, "tell me if I gotta pull over."

Wendy leaned in against his touch. It'd never cease to make her swoon how soft Vince was. The definition a gentle giant.

She drifted in and out of consciousness as he started to drive. The pain wasn't climbing up anymore, now that she was out of the noise and bright lights, but also wasn't receding. The car movement was making her nauseous, but not enough to throw up. Instead, Wendy gulped down the salty saliva pooling in her mouth, rubbing her knuckles against her temple.

"Almost home," Vince whispered and Wendy let out a sigh as she felt him brush her bangs away from her face, thumb stroking her cheek.

As soon as they parked in the garage of the building, Wendy was leaning out of her door, gagging fruitlessly. She didn't have much, or anything, to bring up. Not only she had been running on coffee all day, but she had put herself on a diet due to all the pressure leading up to the wedding and had eaten all but one handful of baby carrots during lunch.

Baby carrots that made her saliva an odd shade of orange as she drooled on the cement floor, hanging on the door for dear life.

"Aw, honey," Vince sighed, crouching in front of her, as if he was blind to the fact she was about to throw up or trying to, "that's okay, let it out..."

"Vin..." Wendy whined, planting a hand on his shoulder, both as support but to push him out of the line of fire. He seemed to know she wasn't going to throw up, because Vince wouldn't budge no matter how much she pushed his shoulder, solid as a tree trunk as he held back her hair and cooed softly.

Wendy forced up a nasty, watery burp, a splash of liquid hit the ground. Not thick enough she could even call it vomit, but more than just the drooling she had been doing for the past five minutes. The nausea lessened, but the sudden burp caused her head to swim and Wendy let out a groan as she collapsed, dizzily.

"Shh, I got you," Vince wrapped an arm around her shoulders, "I got you, c'mere..."

He pulled her up and Wendy's knees wobbled, but she grabbed on his jacket with all her force as she felt Vince move to carry her bridal style, "no..." Wendy pressed her forehead to his chest, "no carrying... Mak'me dizzy..."

"Okay, okay, sorry..." Vince wrapped an arm around her waist and then all but hoisted most of her weight off her feet, "better?"

"Uh-hu," Wendy pressed her head to his chest, letting out a deep breath as they entered the elevator and Vin promptly wrapped his arms around her, rubbing her back.

"Why didn't you call me to come get you before it got this bad?" Vince asked, kissing the top of her head and Wendy let out a groan.

"It'sssnot-" She muffled another nauseous burp on his shirt, "not that bad..."

"Sure," she couldn't see him, but knew he was rolling his eyes, "did you take any meds?"

"Tylenol..." Wendy jerked slightly as the elevator came to a stop, "I think I can sleep it off."

"After you take your meds," Vince guided her out of it, already with the keys on hand. He didn't speak again as he gently pushed her inside and steered her towards the bedroom and Wendy let out a sad sigh.

"I'm sorry I didn't call you..." In truth, she wasn't sure why she was apologizing. She had been handling things on her own all her life, it was no mystery that it'd take getting used to having Vince around all the time. Part of her felt a stab of guilt, like she was ruining things by simply not knowing how to be a better girlfriend.

Vince didn't seem to have heard her, as he went through the bedside table's drawer in search of her meds, foot thumping on the ground rhythmically. Wendy fell against the pillows, kicking out her shoes and burying her face on his pillow, the lavender after beard lotion he used was still clinging to the fabric.

"Honey," Vince whispered, rolling her around by the elbow. He had closed the curtains and the only light source in the room was the hallway light on, "meds, you gotta take 'em."

Wendy nodded, then let out a pained whimper as it caused a stab to echo through her head. Vince used the pillows to pull her sitting up, grabbing the pillowcase instead of her arms as he tilted it towards him, "here, one big gulp and I'll get out of your hair."

"No," Wendy's voice was all rough and she grimaced, clearing her throat, "can you stay...?" She took the meds and the glass of water Vin was holding out, a little worried her boyfriend might deny. Was he angry she hadn't called him...?

"Are you sure?" Vince pushed back the hair on her face, tucking it behind her ear and taking the glass with his free hand, "I don't wanna bother you while you sleep."

Wendy let out a snort, "I sleep like the dead, you could never... Just stay until I fall asleep?" Please?

Vin's dark brows met, in a frown, but then his whole face got wrinkly as he cracked a smile, "of course, honey," he leaned in to press a kiss on her forehead.

He pushed the door even more ajar, so only one thread of light entered the room and Wendy heard him roaming around. The noise of his shoes falling, rustling of him stripping something, hands on her shoulders, "c'mere, cuddle me."

She let out a pleased noise as her cheek met his tummy, suddenly realizing Vince had removed his shirt due to how warm the room was. Wendy muffled a yawn against his skin, throwing her leg over his hip and letting her eyes slip closed once again as his hand dropped to her hair, starting to pet it.

Wendy was fully drifting off as she heard Vince whisper, "I love you."

[youngpeachenthusiast]

maybe part of the reason i crave intimacy so much is that chronic pain would probably be slightly more bearable if i at least had someone to cuddle through it

instead i'm lying in the dark with a migraine and nausea clutching my pillow almost in tears begging for it to stop

man. i would really love a hug right now. no wonder i'm so desperate for physical affection. my body feels so bad it's just looking for something good.

and honestly. my mind is looking for something good too

[dykekarkat]

your nuanced take on nicky is SO real especially the part where you pointed out that neil literally feels 1000x more violated by getting drugged (by his literally future life partner so clearly people grow and change !!!) than he does by getting kissed nonconsentually. obviously it makes him uncomfortable but he moves on because it’s like that wasn’t triggering for him it was just a bit gross. as long as that doesn’t happen we keep it pushing. on the other hand being forced into losing control and being unaware of his surroundings (the very thing that has kept him alive all these years) is a million times more triggering to someone like neil but everyone likes the sweep the harm from that under the rug. just because neil eventually understands why (disturbingly understanding guy tbh) doesn’t mean it didn’t affect him at the time. i think people kind of latch on to the fact that andrew drugged him but didn’t like do anything to him while he was vulnerable but that’s only bc neil got himself out of there. sure we know andrew would never sexually assault someone but who knows what he might have done if he had his way that night. i read this fic once where it’s neil’s 3rd or 4th year so his life is well established and then he gets in an accident and gets retrograde amnesia back to the night of the drugging and the fallout is crazy. bc all of the sudden he’s right back in that headspace of like if he distrusts one mf in the entire world it’s andrew. and for good reason! and also this is not andrew hate at all he’s my fucked up little guy but we do have to get real here ppl

okay responding under the cut yayyy i love talking about columbia its my favorite chapter in the first book. sorry for writing you a whole essay btw. also obligatory disclaimer that im not saying u have to like nicky / cant be uncomfortable with him and his actions / that sexual assault is okay / etc

i am once again. bringing up academic work. bcus i am in a crit sexualities class rn and its rlly interesting #mynerdinterests. i've actually already brought up gayle rubin's thinking sex when talking about andrew and jean's treatment in the fandom. and i WILL be doing it again bcus even tho the article is super controversial (and i definitely do not agree with everything rubin says) she gives us some really good vocab surrounding the innate beliefs / values that get drilled into us by american society. she brings up this idea called "the fallacy of the misplaced scale" which is basically that we give sex and sex acts an excess of significance, and that any sort of sexual sin is especially heinous or morally reprehensible.

this general idea is why i think people tend to feel fine with physical violations within media (for example neil getting drugged by andrew) but react more aggressively to any kind of sexual transgression (like nicky assaulting neil). both of these actions are Bad. andrew is taking away neil's ability to protect himself, drugging him against his will, and forcing him into an extremely vulnerable state. nicky is also giving neil drugs (on andrew's orders) with the addition of nonconsensually kissing him to do it. but people focus more heavily on that rather than andrew's actions bcus as you said "he didnt actually do anything" and bcus sexual acts are always elevated above others. i would argue this is also why you see people treat jean's trauma more seriously than kevin's. or why people will write neil getting sexually assaulted in the nest rather than just tortured for the extra angst. it adds an extra level of "seriousness" or "importance" to the violation that's occurred.

i also think one of the reasons people ignore the consequences around andrew drugging neil (or even nix it all together in their rewrites) is because andrew IS the love interest so we obviously get much closer and a much deeper look into his character and motivations than nicky. we also get neil's reactions to them which most people would probably consider abnormal, since he doesn't really care about the kissing and remains friendly with nicky p much immediately after (tho he DOES get rlly uncomfortable about the bed sharing. which i personally think is worse than the kissing by nicky) but he does hate andrew and heavily distrust him post drugging ("dont sleep ill kill you", checking the glass when he goes to eden's next). like even when he's like "wow andrew could hold my truth without flinching yada yada" he's still lowkey hating him for it, before it becomes water under the bridge due to neil's ability to let things go (this is a hashtag certified mary hatfordism. its definitely bcus of his time on the run). anyway wow i just wrote you a bonafide essay. sorry this got off track but i love complex relationships and emotions and sexual situations. and also i love andrew nicky and neil literally my top 3 aftg characters. anyway im saying all this in good faith hope you enjoy anon.

[lisupandowntown]

The Plea Deal

A/N: Lot's of tangled emotions here. Making Gabe the sickie and also using his POV meant that I was able to skim over some of the explanation about how the others are handling everything. That was on purpose. More will be slowly revealed and explained. I know I ended it kind of abruptly. Like Gabe, I just needed to be done, lol. Be comforted that he's not done throwing up, lol.

“So explain it to me again because I don’t get it; they let the guy who attacked Noa go free?”  Gabe didn’t know if he was asking Rory, or Avery, or even his sister.  He just knew the news was making him feel vaguely nauseous. They hadn’t even started the trial when the judge had dismissed all the potential jurors and called Noa and Rory back into her chambers with a bunch of the lawyers.  When they’d emerged half an hour later, Rory was looking angrier than Gabe had ever seen him.  He’d refused to say any more, other than the guy’s gonna walk, so Avery had offered a quick explanation while Noa asked them all to come back to her and Rory’s condo.  Her face had been unreadable and even now that they were here, Gabe wasn’t sure what she was thinking.

“He agreed to take a plea deal.  He’ll avoid jail time in exchange for testimony about his drug supplier and going to rehab. Plus probation.”  Avery sounded almost apologetic. Gabe tried to understand.

“Rehab and probation; what does that mean, exactly?”  He started to pick up one of the beers Noa had put out and then put it back down. She was still puttering around the condo, now offering food and drinks to Drew and Jeremiah.  Logan was with her, which freed him up to stay with Rory. Divide and conquer, so to speak. 

Adam was there too, being oddly quiet, for Adam.  Their parents had gone back to their hotel because their dad thought he might be getting a migraine. 

From across the room, Logan offered him a small smile and shrug, so he figured she was learning as little as he was about what was going on.  Noa and Rory were normally fairly private; they practically communicated without words sometimes. But now they seemed . . . Unaligned.  It was disconcerting.  Gabe rubbed his temples.

“It means they didn’t even ask for home confinement.”  Rory’s voice sounded slightly fuzzy - whether from anger or his third bourbon Gabe wasn’t sure.  “He can leave whenever he wants.  Drive around or whatever.”  He glared around the room as if daring anyone to disagree with him.

Avery - who was probably the only one there who understood the details - leaned forward.  “He’s got supervised release, Ror,” he said mildly.  “And the rehab is at least a month first.  And he’s going to be all the way on the other side of Boston - in Worcester practically.”  He stared at his partner, clearly waiting for him to acknowledge what he’d said.  Instead Rory took another sip of his drink.

Gabe thought vaguely that he should jump in the conversation somehow.  After all, he’d known Rory longer than anyone here, and had witnessed his and Noa’s relationship almost since the day it began.  But he was feeling strangely lethargic. His stomach was sour too, making the food Noa had put out completely unappetizing. The diner lunch he’d shared with his parents and Logan earlier clearly wasn’t sitting well.  He burped softly under his breath and tried to pay attention. 

Rory was deep in conversation with Avery.  “They could have taken his drivers’ licence,” he groused.  “Or made his check-ins hourly to confirm his travel patterns. He’s got a car; he could easily drive here and then make it back in the three hour window they gave him.  It’s careless.”

“Oh for god’s sake, Rory,  don’t you think you’re being a little over dramatic?” Adam plopped down on the sofa next to Gabe and gazed across the coffee table. “There’s no danger here; Smith’s not coming after Noa.  Stop being such a worrywort.”  

Adam’s sudden weight bounced the sofa cushion and made Gabe’s stomach slosh uncomfortably,  He gulped down and tried not to burp again.  

“Oh yeah, definitely listen to him, Rory, since he’s apparently the expert on danger now.  I didn’t realize they’d inducted you into the FBI, Adam.”  Avery’s expression was closed off, but his tone spoke volumes.  

More than one drama was clearly going on here, but Gabe had to give in and belch.  He wished his stomach would stop rolling already - the queasiness was annoying and making it hard to concentrate. He wondered if he could grab some Pepto without making too much of a scene.  

“‘Scuse me,” he mumbled.  Burping helped relieve some of the pressure in his chest and he sat up straighter on the sofa.

Adam ignored both the burp and Gabe’s apology because he was glaring at Avery.  “I’m just repeating what you said, Morrison; I thought you’d appreciate the support.” 

“Why don’t you leave the law enforcement to those of us who wear the badge, okay, Calder? I was stating the facts about the plea agreement, and last time I checked, you’re not qualified to decide what’s dangerous or not.” 

Avery’s voice was still mostly calm, but also loud enough that the other conversations in the room quieted.  Noa walked out from the kitchen carrying a tray of cut-up vegetables and bowls of dip, looking concerned.

“Isn’t that what you’re doing?”  Noa’s eyes darted back and forth between her boyfriend and Avery and then finally landed on Rory.  “Figuring out what’s risky and what isn’t?”  

“It’s all risky,” Rory practically growled.  “He was supposed to be locked up and now I don’t know how to keep you safe.”  He ran his hand through his hair.  “Maybe I should take you out of town for a while.”  

“Holy fuck,” muttered Adam.  “Why don’t you both just move to Indiana or somewhere?”  

Gabe and Jeremiah exchanged a glance.  Adam’s method of blunt force when he disagreed with something rarely worked with Rory. But before Gabe could try to intervene his stomach gurgled angrily and he palmed roughly at his side.  Fuck, he needed Pepto. 

“I took this week off work,” said Noa carefully.   She sat down on the loveseat next to Rory and Adam huffed impatiently.  Gabe couldn’t pay attention to the drama between his sister and brother while his stomach was this upset.  Logan had stayed tactfully out of the way at the edge of the kitchen and he slowly headed towards her.  

Logan’s smile at seeing him dimmed as soon as he shuffled closer.  She peered critically at his face, her hand going up to cup his cheek.  “Migraine?” she asked, voice low.  “I’ve got some of your meds in my purse.”  

Gabe gingerly shook his head.  “Not . . . not a migraine,” he said through another soft burp.  “I’m kind of nauseous.”  He opened the cabinet where Noa and Rory kept their medicine.  “I think lunch isn’t agreeing with me or something.”  

“You’re sick to your stomach?”  Drew appeared in the kitchen and immediately put his hand on Gabe’s forehead.  “Since when?”  

If Gabe hadn’t been so queasy he would have laughed at the way Drew always seemed to know when someone needed nursing. Instead he just shrugged.

“It’s been kind of gross since before we left the courthouse,” he admitted  He pressed his hand to his middle and grimaced. “I think it’s something I ate.”  

“You’re a little warm, but not officially feverish; do you feel like you’re going to throw up?”  Drew took his wrist and began counting his pulse.  Gabe shrugged again.  

“Just . . . uhhrp . . . just burping a lot so far.”  He swallowed a glug of the Pepto and tried not to gag.  The taste normally didn’t bother him but now his entire mouth felt coated and sticky. Noa had set up cans of soda on the counter and he grabbed a Sprite.  The sharp flavor helped clear away some of the chalkiness in his mouth so he took another swallow.  “How are things in the living room?”  

“Tense.”  Jeremiah walked into the kitchen and wrapped his arms around Drew from behind.  “And I’m not only talking about Rory.  What the hell’s going on with your brother? That’s mostly a rhetorical question, by the way.”

There was a burp stuck in his chest so Gabe’s response was clipped and his voice deeper than normal.  “Adam doesn’t like being reminded he’s not always the smartest in the room.”  He pressed his belly against the edge of the counter to try to force out the air.  

“Especially when the person doing the reminding is someone he refuses to admit intrigues him,” added Logan.  She thumped Gabe lightly on his back. The vibration made his stomach slosh uncomfortably but it also moved the bubble of air up.  He leaned forward. 

“Well his sexual tension theatrics aren’t helping right now,” Jeremiah said grimly.  “Noa’s stressed.”  He looked at the people in the room and then nodded, as if making a decision.  “She was so uptight she was vomiting earlier,” he revealed quietly. “And between Rory over-worrying that Smith is scheming to come after her and Adam acting like it’s all no big deal, it’s only going to make her more sick.”

“What does Avery say? He knows as much of what’s safe as Rory, right?”  Logan moved her arm to wrap casually around Gabe’s waist.  His stomach was actually churning now, and little prickles of sweat kept erupting on the back of his neck.  He swallowed hard.

“Exactly,” Jeremiah was saying.  “He should have been the voice of reason here, but he’s caught up in trying to prove god knows what to Adam.  It would be amusing watching them dance around each other if it wasn’t catching Noa in the middle.”

 “And Adam doesn’t usually play games,” said Gabe thickly.  He wanted to say more, but his stomach turned over, and by the frown on Logan’s face he knew she could feel it too.  He gulped down air, trying to force up the burp he could feel in his throat, but it seemed stuck. 

“Drink more Sprite,” she ordered under her breath. 

Gabe did as he was told, but after two sips he was too full to swallow any more.  Logan pushed on his lower back, pressing his gut harder into the edge of the island. Gabe felt an intense wave of discomfort   and then a pocket of air finally worked loose from his chest.  The harsh belch brought up a mouthful of thick saliva too, and he had to lunge to his right to spit into the sink instead of down his shirt.  His nausea ratcheted up a notch. 

“Yeah,” he sighed when he turned back around to find Logan, Drew, and Jeremiah all watching him.  Logan’s eyes were full of concern and Drew and Jeremiah’s were critical. Clearly they’d already diagnosed him.  “Probably gonna puke up my lunch at some point.” He swallowed past the lump that had replaced the bubble of air in his throat.  “Hopefully not until after Rory and Adam decide if they’re going to kill each other or not.”  He held out an arm and Logan snuggled back into his side.

“Or Adam and Avery,“ said Drew dryly. His mouth twitched; clearly he was enjoying their dramatics. “But sit down, Gabe.  You’re as white as a sheet.”  He pulled out a chair and before Gabe could say a word Logan marched him over to it. 

Once he was sitting the nausea receded a bit. Gabe hiccupped.. “He says . . . uhllp . . . he wants to take her out of town.”  He tugged at the collar of his shirt, wishing he could change out his button down.  “And I think she agreed.  Maybe it will be good for them to get away.”

“It’ll be good for Rory at least.”  Avery walked into the kitchen and grabbed a bag of pretzels off the counter. “And Noa’s going along with it until he has time to think it through.  He just needs a couple of days to realize he’s being ridiculous.“ Avery ripped open the bag and shoved a handful in his mouth and then retrieved a beer from the fridge. 

“So this guy’s not dangerous?” Logan asked.  She stood behind Gabe and began massaging his shoulders.  He leaned his head back against her stomach and tried not to think about food. 

“He’s not as dangerous as Rory wants us to believe,” Avery corrected.  “And not as innocent as . . . Adam thinks.”

Logan gave an amused huff at Avery stuttering over Adam’s name.  It made Gabe’s head bounce and he had to gulp down the saliva that suddenly flooded his mouth.  He knew he was starting to feel pukey, but Avery kept glancing in the direction of the living room and again Gabe felt responsible as the person who knew all the players the best. He took a deep breath.

“So why’s he being . . . Hicurrp!. . . ridiculous?” he asked, though a hiccup that was more like a wet burp. Drew shot him a look but Gabe waved him off and kept talking.  “I’ve known Rory a long time, with and without Noa.”  He had to stop and take another breath as a wave of prickly heat washed over him.

Logan’s hands squeezed his shoulders. He wanted to say a lot more, but his mouth felt sticky again, and the last words came out thin and reedy.  “So why is this . . . diff’rent?” 

Avery’s lips tightened and Gabe hoped that whatever he had to say would be quick.

“Look, a little vigilance - even a lot of vigilance - is important in our line of work. But so is a realistic assessment of risk.  Normally Rory’s good at balance.” He gave a small shrug.  “I always knew - more or less - that he was a little less reasonable when it came to Noa, but I’ve never seen it to this extreme.”  

“What’s extreme?” Asked Drew.  “He’s rightfully angry that the guy is going free, right?”

“Supervised release is not ‘going free,’ and Rory knows that,” explained the agent patiently.  “There are a number of safeguards in place . . .”

Avery kept talking - something about Noa being more protected than Rory wanted to admit - and Drew and Jeremiah and even Logan were listening intently, but Gabe just couldn’t anymore.  There was a roaring in his ears that matched the waves of nausea in his belly, and he had to spit again.  When he pulled his head back out of the sink again he tugged on Logan’s hand.

“Can you come sit in the bathroom with me?” he asked under his breath. He didn’t have to say anything more.  Logan nodded quickly, and when Gabe lurched in her direction, grabbed him around his waist.  Conversation stopped.  

“I’ll umm, be right back,” he said weakly.  His stomach gave a noisy gurgle and he tried not to wince. For the first time Avery really looked at him.

“Damn, what’s wrong Calder?  You look like you’re about to pass out.”

At the moment, passing out sounded kind of appealing.  Gabe grimaced, lips trembling.  “S-s-sorry,” he managed.  “I want to . . . uhhlp . . . to hear.  NoaN’Rory.”  He gagged into his hand and Avery’s eyes blew open.

“Yeah, this can wait.  Go puke or whatever and everyone else can fill you in.”  

“Thanks,” Gabe muttered.  He let Logan usher him through the living room, where Rory and Adam seemed to be arguing, and into Rory and Noa’s guest bath.  It had doors leading out to the hallway and also into the attached bedroom and Logan carefully locked both while Gabe paced around the small space and tried to convince himself that he wasn’t about to get sick. 

“Do you need privacy?” Logan asked gently.  “You said it was something you ate.”  She gestured at the toilet.  He shook his head.

“Just nauseous,” Gabe groaned.  “It’s going to come up, not down.”  He leaned over and spit into the bowl but didn’t move to kneel in front of it.  “But . . .not yet.  Gonna try burping more first - m’ so uncomfortable.”  He finally untucked his dress shirt and lifted up the bottom to show Logan how his belly rounded out above the waistband of his pants.  “Can I take these off?”  Without waiting for her answer he undid the button and zipper, pushing the bottoms down his legs and then kicking them off.  It helped, but even the pressure from his boxer briefs felt like too much around his middle right now.   

“Wow babe, you really are bloated.”  Logan rested her hands gently on the sides of his belly.  “Would a rub help or make it worse?”  

Gabe dropped his head to her shoulder.  “Rub please.”  Maybe it was the hours of listening to people talk about threats and plea deals and his little sister’s safety, but he was feeling more out of sorts than just his stomach ache.  “D’you feel like you want to crawl out of your skin too?” he mumbled into Logan’s neck.  She pressed her thumb gently into his side and he burped.  “Sorry.”

She chuckled.  “Trying to make you feel better here, so keep going.”  Her hands traced gentle circles, adding pressure that felt both good and terrible.  He gulped down, not sure if he should tell her to stop.  “And yeah.  It’s not as bad for me though, so lean on me as much as you need.  And Noa’s wound so tightly, trying not to upset Rory more than he already is.  I’m not sure what it’s going to take to get her untangled.” 

Gabe leaned away to spit into the sink.  “They’ll figure it out,” he gasped.  “They always do.”  His stomach rolled again and he braced himself on the counter, fighting nausea and drooling into the bowl.  Behind him, Logan’s phone buzzed.

“Drew’s checking in,” she announced.  “Wants to know if you’ve vomited yet and if I want company.”  She chuckled.  “I kind of love having a nurse in our friend group.  Usually I’m the one the least fazed by people throwing up.” 

Gabe blew out a queasy breath.  “Tell him . . .” He stopped and swallowed hard.  “. . . Tell him ‘no but soon’ and I don’t care.”  He looked over his shoulder at his girlfriend.  “He can come in if he wants.”

“Already told him that,” Logan grinned.  She cupped his cheek.  “You look terrible.”  

“Feel terrible,” Gabe agreed.  He shakily lowered himself to the ground just as Drew knocked on the door.  

“Looks like I got here just in time.”  He crouched down behind Gabe and rested his hand on the side of his neck.  “Clammy, pale, and pulse racing.  Don’t fight it, sweetheart.”  

“Trying . . . trying not to,” Gabe panted.  His stomach hitched and he reteched dryly.  “How . . . how’s out there?”  Saliva dripped into the toilet. His breathing sped up.

Drew huffed with amusement. “Apparently Avery has a date tonight; he just left.”  When Gabe lurched forward with another dry retch Drew slid his hand onto his forehead.  “Don’t face plant on the back of the seat,” he warned. “Do you want to hear the story now?  Adam doesn’t know what to do with himself and Jeremiah’s about had it with him.”

“He wants to focus on Rory and Noa,” Logan pointed out.  

Gabe squeezed his eyes shut.  Like earlier in the kitchen, the conversation continued to float around him but he was too nauseous to participate.  His next retch morphed into a burp and he spit up a mouthful of bitter liquid into the toilet. 

“Okay, here we go.” Drew’s hand rested on his back.  “Get it up, and then Logan has a nice damp cloth to wipe your face after.”  

Gabe buried his head in his arms as the nausea surged again.  “This sucks,” he groaned before throwing up a much more productive amount of his lunch.  He started choking, trying to catch his breath and Drew calmly patted him on the back.  The choking turned into coughing, until Gabe finally burped harshly, spraying spit and stomach contents all over the inside of the bowl.  His stomach clenched again, the nausea not even a little better. He rocked back and forth, miserable.

“Are you done for now?” Logan’s hands were even more gentle than Drew’s.  Gabe wordlessly shook his head.  He gagged emptily and then burped up something that tasted vaguely like the eggs and coffee he’d eaten for breakfast hours earlier.  Exhausted, he rested his head on the side of the seat while Drew flushed and Logan wiped the half of his face she could reach.  

“Any better?” she asked, wiping sweaty hair off his forehead.  Gabe shrugged.  He felt completely drained, not sure he was empty, and just wanted to lie down.  “Can we go home?” he rasped.  “Please?” 

“Logan kissed his head.  “So polite,” she soothed.  “Of course we can.  But you have to put on your pants first.”

[spookysalem13]

Just a fellow spoonie 🥄 here to share a relatable hilarious 😄 video.

Being chronically ill, you have to learn to find the humor in your diseases. For me, it's a major way I get by day to day.

This made me smile, I hope it can make you smile as well.

[babyboywilson]

day 2 of a migraine episode someone please make the pain go away

[lavenoon]

Meds didn't kill the migraine and you still gotta go to work </3

[justabunny]

I'd rather eat a pair of denim jeans than be nauseous

[utterqueerdisasterthesimp]

I HATE MY HEAD I HATE MY HEAD I HATE MY HEAD I HATE MY HEAD I HATE MY HEAD AAAAAAAAAAAAA

[seaglassmelody]

So my mage characters are already prone to migraines bc I said so (magic takes a lot out of you, physical strain, etc)

I raise myself “my warden characters have a spread of chronic health problems”

[secretobsessionstuff]

it’s so good to have you back! i have an idea for a potential future blair fic. what if blair comes down with a nasty stomach virus compounded with a migraine while on a road trip to somewhere important with dakota? maybe she thinks it’s just a migraine and then well.. shit gets real *no pun intended* haha. it doesn’t have to be a road trip, if that doesn’t inspire anything for you, but maybe somewhere where she can’t get away that easily? no worries if you aren’t interested and if you are, take your time! 😊

Thanks for the no pressure! It helped a lot as I try to get back into this. I wasn't sure if the "pun" meant no scat lol, so there's just emeto. I hope it's okay...don't know how I feel about it. Maybe typos maybe not...but probably typos.

-------------

Blair thought her headache would fade once they left her parents’ house. Seeing her extended family for Easter was always a joy, but she could do without the noise from the little ones. At first, the squealing and giggling upon finding an Easter egg was cute. Inevitably, the happy laughs turned into fits of crying and tantrums when the celebration was over. Though the children weren’t happy to be leaving, Blair had to admit she was looking forward to a silent car ride home with Dakota. 

Two hours into the four-hour drive, and her headache had morphed into a migraine. She succumbed to the pain a while ago by leaning the passenger seat back as far as it would go. Her sweater lay over her eyes to block out the daylight. She wrapped her arms together in an attempt to sooth herself, but it was Dakota’s soft voice that did most of the work. 

“Is it just as bad?” he asked, brushing a hand over her knee. In times of crisis like this, Blair liked to kick off her shoes and sit cross legged. Maybe if she made herself smaller, the pain would shrink as well. 

But no, the pain pushed against the walls of her body. Hey eyes threatened to explode from the pressure; her belly whined to the beat of the blood pumping in her ears. Misery loved company, so her head seemed to have invited her stomach to join the party. 

“It’s getting worse,” she mumbled and shifted uncomfortably in the small space. The bumpy ride did nothing to ease her aches. Every bounce and turn jostled her like Jello. She imagined her brain jiggling against her skull in time with her roiling tummy. “Can you go slower?” 

“Gosh, babe, if I drive any slower, we might make it home by Christmas.” Dakota’s eyes squinted in the sunlight. Keeping his eyes on the road hardly mattered when they were going 40 in an 80, and there were no other cars along the country road. He set the cruise control to the snail-like pace so that he could give his fiancée more of his attention. “If I hold out my arm like this, you can lean against me.” 

Blair just groaned and sat up straight in the seat. The sweater fell from her face, making her wince at the harsh light. At the same time, the car rolled in and out of a pothole. Her stomach rose in her throat. “Really? You couldn’t have gone around that?” Her tone was as acidic as the liquid that burned her esophagus. 

“I’m doing my best, Bee.” Dakota took his hand off her leg. “I know you don’t feel well, but don’t get mad at me just ‘cause I’m the only one here.”

That hurt. Not as much as the sword through her head, but it stung nonetheless. “I’m sorry,” she said, miserably wrapping her arms around her midriff. “I just feel sick to my stomach, and this bumpy ass road is not helping.” 

Dakota opened his mouth to provide comfort, but Blair was not finished. 

“And the sun is so fucking bright, and what is that horrible smell? It’s like burning rubber.” Blair pouted. “Why does everything in the universe hate me?” 

Dakota gave her a lopsided smile. “Well, I’m in the universe and I don’t hate you.” 

Blair scoffed and cracked a small grin. “Stop being adorable. I’m dying here.” She had to admit, his joke allowed some tension to ease off her shoulders. She wasn’t alone and everything wasn’t terrible. There were many things that were terrible, but her partner was not one of them. “…Thank you.” 

“Aw, you know I just want you to feel better.” Dakota reached his hand out to rub her belly. “I’m sorry this migraine came at such a bad time. It’s making you feel sick?” 

She nodded. “The nausea is bad this time. Usually I can ignore it.” 

Dakota must have let the Easter bunny take the wheel while he scanned her face. “You do look very pale. Are you going to throw up, you think?” 

She shook her head, then immediately regretted the decision. “I hope not. I’ll try to fall back to sleep so that doesn’t happen.” 

Ironically, it was the nausea that kept her from sleeping. The pain in her head swelled with her bloated belly. All that chocolate coated her insides in a thick layer of gooey slime. When she began to burp, the taste of Terry’s chocolate orange made her gag. 

Blair was alert now. With wide eyes, she clamped a hand over mouth. She forced down two more burps or else she knew Dakota’s car would be ruined in seconds. “Babe—” she began, feeling a tightness in her throat that pinched her words “—Pull over. I need to be sick.” 

Without hesitation or issue, Dakota brought the car to a stop. "Wow sleep did not happen, eh?"

What a stupid time to ask a question.

Blair threw the door open with just enough time to lean over and burp wetly over the ground. She gagged, bringing up a small wave of vomit. It was mostly coffee from the afternoon. The bitter flavour clung to her tongue, but it would not stick around for long because there was much in her stomach to get up.

"I'm right here," Dakota said with a hand on her back. "You're okay." Blair leaned further out of the car with the next heave, nearly falling onto the grass. He caught her arm. "Oh, maybe you're not. Hold on, I'm coming around."

He turned off the car and jogged to the other side. Luckily there were no cars with them on the road. If Blair wanted privacy, she picked the right place to lose her lunch.

Her lunch was fertilizing the grass. Hopefully the open field would thrive on half digested chocolate, coffee, and cubes of cheese that were no longer in the shape of cubes.

She coughed and burped in between waves. "Ugh, Kota, help..." She reached out for him and allowed him to help her out of the car. They staggered like drunken lovers until their knees met the earth.

"I got you." Dakota held onto her shoulder and pulled her hair away from her face. "You're doing good."

"...my head..."

"I know." Dakota kissed her forehead. His lips met unexpectedly warm skin

"...my tummy..."

"I know." Dakota did not lean down to kiss her tummy because the organ chose that moment to convulse again. He heard a gurgling sound in Blair's throat before she pitched forward and heaved a mostly-liquid bout of sick onto the ground. Dakota rubbed her back. "Oh my Bee."

Blair fed the flowers one more time, shedding tears from the force of each retch. The vomiting released pressure from her head but did nothing to ease her belly; it only reinforced the ache that dwelled in her gut.

Dakota's lips still tingled from the heat of the kiss. He knew then that he had to get her home fast. They would need to go much faster than they had been, but at least a bed would be waiting. Blair couldn't suffer like this while on the road.

The universe agreed that Blair should not be in the car.

When Dakota went to start the car again, the engine gave a mighty good try, but failed. Dakota swore under his breath and spared a glance at Blair who still sat in front of a puddle of sick in the grass.

"No, please, no." He took the key out and tried again. "Come, on come on."

The engine tried, and tried, and...nothing. It was just as fatigued and sick as his girl. He called the doctor for only one of the patients.

Defeated, Dakota returned to Blair's side. By the looks of it, she hadn't thrown up again. He sat down next to her with a dejected sigh. "I have bad news."

"I heard."

They both sighed and sat unmoving on the grass. Blair's gaze was lost in her thoughts or maybe her pain. Dakota's gaze never left her. Her red cheeks, grey lips, and dark eyes worried him. He reached out silently with the back of his hand to touch her forehead.

Blair looked up at him with glassy eyes. "More bad news?"

"Yeah." He scooted closer to her and kissed the side of her head. "Remember when I got an infection while camping and got a really bad fever?" Her expression told him that she remembered, though not fondly. "This might be something like that, at least until the tow truck arrives."

"I knew the migraine was different this time. I just don't understand where this bug came from."

"You were around children all weekend. What do you expect?"

• • •

Blair slept in the backseat of the car while Dakota kept watch. She put her head in his lap and tried to ignore the gurgling in her tummy. Again, Dakota came to the rescue and gently rubbed the warm skin of her belly.

He wasn't sure how long he traced circles and lines over her stomach, but it was long enough for the sun to begin setting. He made a game out of spelling different words with his fingertips. In invisible ink, he wrote words like 'love' and 'Blair' and 'dildo'.

Occasional gurgles emanated from her belly. Dakota worried that Blair would bolt upright and tell him to pull over as if the day would repeat itself. But she stayed asleep. Her expression softened in her slumber.

Amazingly, she only woke up when Dakota moved to greet the tow truck driver. With the plan settled, he returned to the car.

"Honey." Dakota shook her awake. "We're going home now."

By the time Blair came to her senses, the car was ready to be hitched to the truck.

This was bad. Blair paced along the road, bitting her nails. She watched the car be lifted partially off its wheels. This was very bad. The driver spoke to Dakota and then went into the truck. Very very bad.

Sleep was good, but her belly did not like being awake. Suddenly the nausea came rushing back. The headache was gone, but the virus had nowhere near run its course.

"Babe, you ready?" Dakota called. She did not move. He came closer. "Honey, are you alright?"

With tears in her eyes, she shook her head. "I'm going to throw up in the car. I can't. I feel really sick again."

"Okay, okay, no worries." Dakota tried to calm her down. "I'll explain the situation to the driver and he'll understand."

Something wet and horrid squirmed in Blair's stomach; it was the dread of driving in a gross truck while feeling like this. But it was also the very real bug that filled her throat with nausea.

"Please don't make me do this, Kota." She covered her mouth to hide a wet burp, but she could not keep the moan from escaping. "I don't feel good."

She was losing colour by the second. Dakota felt like he was approaching a timid animal. "Okay, we can wait. It's fine."

"I don't like this. I don't wanna--urp--throw up again." She paced with her hand glued tightly to her mouth. Her legs shook and her back spasmed with the need to lurch forward. She felt the gag rising from the pit of her belly.

Dakota touched her arm. "Baby, just let yourself be sick. The man can wait. And if you need to throw up in the truck, just do it. I'll tip him well."

She shook her head.

"I'm right here. Nothing bad is going to happen." He started to gather her hair in his hand. "That's it. Lean over. I've got you." She moved her hand away and retched emptily. It was like her belly was shy as well. "Let it happen, Bee."

Maybe it was Dakota's hand on her back or the fact that she wanted this day to be over, but Blair gave in to her need. She relaxed her muscles just long enough for them to squeeze tight once more when the sick came rushing out of her mouth.

"Good job," Dakota said. "Five stars. Encore."

Blair gave an encore, not that she could help it. She would not have given it five stars.

In the end, Dakota's encouragements are what saved the day. She felt secure enough in her tummy to get in the tow truck. Dakota did indeed explain the situation just in case, but it was not needed. Nor was the bag needed. Thank God. The truck had three seats in the front. Blair hid herself behind Dakota who took the middle. It was a long drive, but a clean one.

"I'm sorry this happened, Blair," Dakota said softly when they were five minutes from their house. "How are you feeling, now?"

"Better maybe." She squeezed his arm. "Thanks for being the one thing in the universe that is right."

[here-comes-the-moose]

I don’t know why, but I feel like Crosshair would really like lemon and citrus scents.

[tj-crochets]

Okay in the interest of actually going to the darn post office and mailing things, I think I am going to not make that bird for that baby gift set, but that does leave me sort of between projects, so it is once again time for

*those are the colors she requested, I have the fabric, and I think I even have a pattern in mind (that baby quilt one I originally intended for beach quilt scraps)