#I don't want to hear the pain | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

writing-whump · 14 days

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👋 Hellooo

Sooo I've been thinking about some ideas for part3-something serious as you asked for opinions 🤭 (I actually even Googled for it tbh xd)

And I saw that fever, severe pain and infection related things are quite common after appendectomy. Well, if we consider that Hex's appendix infected and he stayed for a while like that (idk, a day or less?), it's possible that there's still some infection in his body even after the surgery which his shadow cannot heal. In short, I believe it's a good chance for Hector to whine and being grumpy due to really high fever, feeling sick (coughing and shortness of breathing are two other possible complications as I read on google) while Isiah and Arnie are taking care of him..

As I was the one who insists for Isiah&Hector parts I thought I should help 🤭 but I trust and love your imagination, so I'm sure you'll write another great part for them when you have time and energy!

Thank uu!! Take care&Lots of love 💕🤍

-🌸

Thank you for all the ideas & even research! That's so sweet. Hope this lives up to it :3

Appendix part 3

"Can I have some water?"

"Yes," came the immediate reply from Isaiah. Hector was currently draped over his lap, feverish forehead against his brother's stomach.

"But real water. Not that sweet shit you've been feeding me."

Isaiah laughed softly, his stomach muscles vibrating under Hector's ear. "It's a rehydration solution. You can't take more than a few tiny sips to keep it down and this actually helps. The water does not do enough."

Isaiah's voice was still a picture of calm, but Hector thought he was staring to pick up on the difference between real calmness and fake, carefully controlled big brother voice. He talked with authority, the intent to reassure dripping from each syllable.

Hector also noticed Isaiah talked more formally when he did this. The opposite of relaxing, truly.

Isaiah's hand landed on his shoulder. He rubbed little circles on his arm, waiting for Hector to tense up to start lifting him. He always waited for Hector to make the first move, the decision to get up, even if it was just a little twitch to his hands. As if he was scared not to do something Hector wasn't ready for.

It was kind of nice. It made Hector feel like he was in control of what could be controlled. Otherwise he was content to leave the rest to Isaiah. There was something very relieving about it.

It allowed Hector to whine and complain about everything, even though he could hardly come up with anything better himself.

His insides were boiling. Weren't you supposed to be cold with a fever? His clothes were sticking to his skin with sweat.

The cut on his lower right side was radiating pain. There was no comfortable position to be in, it just hurt. He shifted around sometimes just to try it, but every movement just send more spikes of the searing heat up.

Hector took shallow short breaths, as little as he could just to not move his stomach too much. It even still felt bloated, although he couldn't eat for the last two days.

Hector groaned when Isaiah helped him sit up, leaning back against his brother's chest. Isaiah held the glas with a straw to his lips. Hector drank greedily, his throat dry and hot.

Although the liquid was nicely soothing and cold, the sweetness almost made him gag. He held it in, swallowing heavily before almost choking on the next sip.

He coughed, doubling forward. His eyes went black with the pain that clawed at his stomach with the movement.

Isaiah quickly put the glass away, tucking Hector back against himself as his chest heaved with the painful coughs. He murmured something that Hector couldn't understand, carding his cold fingers through Hector's hair.

Hector whined quietly, glad for the contact. At this point it was a shock to him that he wasn't steaming from the way his insides cooked in his skin.

"You are okay, you are okay. Just breathe."

Hector managed a pained scoff. "It fucking hurts. Keep your stupid advice."

On some level he understood he was being mean and whiny and that he probably shouldn't be relying on Isaiah's endless well of patience. But he also couldn't really formulate why it was bad, his brain breaking his sentences in two before they were finished. He was going to figure it out later.

"Just four more hours to go," Isaiah said, but his hand froze in Hector's hair. He turned back towards the door as if hearing a noise Hector wasn't catching.

It was just great, that without his shadow he was basically deaf. Like a damn human.

"Could you hold on for a minute? I need to check something," Isaiah said, looking down at Hector.

"Yeah, yeah. Get out. I need a break from you anyway," Hector said acidly.

Isaiah sighed quietly. He gently maneuvered himself from under Hector without jostling him, easing him down on the pillows.

Hector slumped back against them, stretching his hands. There was a warm spot left after Isaiah.

He rolled a bit away from it, looking for coldness in the sheets. It was soothing for just a bit, the cool part of the pillow and the untouched cover...

Hector opened his eyes. Even his skin hurt. Looking up the ceiling felt nauseating and he felt like he was choking a bit more with every breath. They came hard and short. Hector was too fearful of the pain that would explode if he let himself take a deeper one.

He hated the way his stomach rose and fell so obviously. The round puffiness around it, the way his loose shirt brushed against the gauze on the wound.

He hated everything.

The wounded wolf reached for his shadow on instinct, trying to coax it up ahead of time. He could feel it stirring under his call, like a quiet warm presence at the end of his mind.

That was progress from the numbness from before. But it wasn't enough. It made Hector's chest hitch with a quiet sob at the helplessness.

He balled his hands into the sheets, digging his fingers into the fabric. Trying to find something grounding.

At least Isaiah's calmness, the warmth of his concern at Hector's back, the soothing trust this was just temporary small discomfort and he would be okay...Even just the pathetic way he would pet Hector's hair or rub those little circles onto his shoulder...something soft and pleasant to focus on in the sea of pain made a huge difference.

The weight of not having it suddenly hit him like a brick in the head.

Did he say something again that pissed Isaiah off? This was still such a new territory. It didn't feel natural to be so...so careful around Isaiah. Hector had never done it and he wasn't sure he knew how.

But Isaiah required more sensitive treatment now...why was it again?

Hector felt a wave of guilt and sadness wash over him, but just as it hit he couldn't remember why he felt that way.

There was just a new load of horrible-ness on top of the pain and heat and general ickiness.

"Is-" Was he really going to beg him to come? For real? Wasn't that even more pathetic?

He grid his teeth together, not sure why he felt like crying. He wanted...he didn't know what. To go home? To go away? How would that help?

Everything was so confusing. Why was he in this state again? And more importantly, why was he alone?

"Zaya?" Maybe he would know. Isaiah always knew everything. Especially about what to do next. "Arnie?" Or maybe Arnie. Arnie knew more about emotions than Hector ever could. His younger brother understood what hurt people and what pleased them with a skill of a chessmaster. Hector should ask him...what did he want to ask? It felt important. How could he forget?

He sobbed quietly, chest constricting with panic. The panic made the nausea worse, slimy heaviness pooling in his stomach.

Hector tried lifting himself up on unsteady arms, his mouth dry, but he could feel the goosebumps of nausea climbing up his arms and neck. His teeth throbbed. Oh god, he didn't want to throw up again, it always hurt...

No such luck though, his chest heaved. His stomach rolled, sqeezing and contracting back into itself as he gagged. He manged to drag himself over the rim of the bed, before his arms buckled underneath his own weight.

He dry heaved painfully over the edge, the pain in his wound burning like he was on fire.

That's when the door burst open. Isaiah gave him a shocked look, before his features smoothed out and he climbed up into the bed behind Hector.

One cold hand went to Hector's shoulder to prop him up, the other to his forehead. Isaiah helped him to lean over the edge. A splash of the sweetened water made its way up.

Hector whimpered from the pain, the gag turning into a ruthless cough right after.

"Shhhhh. I'm here, I'm here. You are okay. All good now. Deep breath."

I can't fucking breathe, he wanted to protest, but all that left his lips was a whine and a strangled burp, punctuated by more coughing. His chest hurt, another little note in the cacophony of pain.

Isaiah turned Hector over gently to prop him up against his chest again. It made breathing a little easier. As if he had heard him after all.

Hector closed his eyes. They were burning with the tiny drops of liquid that managed to force their way out.

Isaiah wrapped an arm around his forehead, petting his cheek and then his hair, pushing the sweaty blond curls behind his ear.

"Shhhh. Sorry, bud. I just called the hospital to check over the symptoms. They say the nausea is normal, but we should check you in if the fever doesn't go down soon."

"I'm not going back there," Hector moaned. "Look what they did."

"They helped you. If they didn't operate, your appendix would have burst and killed you. It's not that much harder to kill a wolf than a human," Isaiah said sternly, not leaving room for an argument. "Now try to relax. Your breaths are too shallow, that's why you keep coughing. You need to breathe properly."

"I want to lie down," Hector whined. Even slumped against Isaiah like a toddler and his head spinning, he wanted to lie lower.

"Can't do. Breathe for a bit. Your lungs need more space to stretch out. Sitting up will make it easier."

Isaiah still petted his hair and Hector didn't have enough strength to his pride to dislike it. He leaned more into the touch.

The panicked emptiness from before dissolved at Isaiah's touch and explanation. His chest undone from the knot, he dared to take a bit longer breaths, head clearing out as oxygen refilled his lungs.

"I got a new towel." Arnie stuck his head into the room, whispering like Hector was sleeping. "You think-"

"Yeah," Isaiah said, voice vibrating under Hector. "The fever isn't any better. Not climbing up though."

Hector forced his eyes open so he could brace himself for the cold touch of the water-soaked cotton.

Isaiah unwrapped his arm from Hector's forehead so Arnie could circle the towel around his head instead.

Hector sighed contendly at the coolness. He was starting to see a way out of this by focusing on everything nice that he could feel. Like little beacons of light in the suffocating fog of pain.

Fog was way better than a fire, after all.

He focused his bleary eyes at his youngest brother. The kid had dark circles under his eyes and there was a telling redness to them. With the wet eyeslashes and the shaky way he moved, Hector knew he must have been crying.

Was that why Hector saw so little of him?

The night felt like a week to him and Arnie was absent for most of its days.

"Hey, pipsqueak," Hector said in a rough voice, opening his palm.

Arnie knelt down on the floor, throwing the previous not cold towel at the splash of sick next to him.

He took Hector's hand in both of his, a tiny quiet sob escaping him at the contact.

"It's alright," Hector said. His voice sounded like he gurgled nails before. "Don't cry."

Arnie's breath hitched, but he tried to smile. He pressed his cheek to his own shoulder for a second to wipe it dry. "'m not."

"Did someth'ng happen?" Hector asked, suddenly confused at the possible reason for Arnie's distressed. He thought he understood just a second ago.

Arnie blinked at him, his eyes going to Isaiah in concern. He squeezed Hector's hand. "It's nothing."

"Uhmmm....Liar."

Arnie's giggle was watery. He climbed into the bed beside Hector, curling up against his middle brother's side, the only one of the three that was lying instead of sitting.

Hector made great effort to lift his hand and put it onto the top of Arnie's soft blond head.

Isaiah made a pleased, almost approving noise at the back of his throat, relaxing under Hector's weight.

The oldest wolf adjusted the towel around his forehead, then wrapped his hands snuggly and gently around Hector's waist. Avoiding the injury, but also holding him a bit straighter. Tighter.

"Just three more hours."

Hector nodded, leaning his head back, tucking it under Isaiah's chin.

Cocooned like this by his brothers, he felt like there wasn't that much that could happen anymore.

#sickfic #emeto #fever #hurt/comfort #bromance #werewolf wip #Hector #and here is the long awaited part 3 #loved the idea with the coughing and shortness of breath #never seen that in apendix fics but it happens I hear?#cause you don't want to breathe too deep with the pain?#such a cool fact #thank you!!#🌸anon

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smile-files · 4 months

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as a jew, seeing what all of these israeli leaders have said is sickening. as a jew, anti-palestinian rhetoric is sickening. as a jew, zionism is sickening.

how dare my people -- a people who've been massacred, ethnically cleansed, dehumanized, forcibly removed, and discriminated on religious grounds for their entire existence -- do the same to another people? how dare we turn our backs on them, when they suffer like we have?

i understand that so much of us have been fed zionist propaganda our entire lives; the same happened to me. i understand the desire for a homeland where we don't have to fear antisemitism at every turn; i want that too. but it doesn't take much thought to understand that a homeland for us, which actively oppresses and kills another people, is antithetical to what we want.

if you, as a member of an oppressed group, believe that your freedom and safety can only exist when you oppress another group, you are acting no better than the people who oppressed you. such a belief is horrible, and cynical, and wrong.

as a jew, i want jewish people to be happy and safe and connected to our heritage; as a jew, i also want other peoples to be happy and safe and connected to their heritage.

don't call the palestinians "amalek". you are turning us into amalek.

doesn't the torah tell us to have empathy for those beaten down by the world? doesn't the torah tell us to make the world a better place? doesn't the torah tell us to free people of their shackles and help them escape oppression?

i have so many israeli aunts and uncles and cousins; i fear for their safety. of course, my parents do as well. i'm worried that this fear, in addition to anything they were led to believe earlier in life, is placing my parents even deeper in the zionist camp. but it doesn't have to be this way! my relatives' safety does not rely on the continued oppression of gaza!

it is easy to be uninformed, to be swayed by propaganda, to blindly hope that israel was founded in good faith -- but we can't lie to ourselves. a world steeped in senseless hatred (which we are now promoting!) could never be a home for us. none of us are free, liberated, equal, until all of us are.

as a jew, to other jews, i implore that we stand with our palestinian siblings. i want us all to be happy and safe. i want us all to live in harmony -- in the holy land and around the world. that is what we all deserve. <3

#melonposting #i apologize for not reblogging/posting much stuff about israel/palestine until now #i kept having this fear that my mom would see and get angry at me #but what do i care? i want both jews and palestinians to be happy #oh yeah. and i keep hearing the argument that 'jews living in the holy land before israel was established weren't treated well'#i don't know if that's true or not... but does it matter?#like of course antisemitism is horrible. but that can be dealt with #forcibly taking over their land is not the answer #like if israel were never a thing and people saw that jews living in the holy land didn't have rights #they'd do something about it!#and if you think they wouldn't (which is a fair thing to think)... well then you should do something about it!!!#don't solve oppression with more oppression you idiot!!!!!#no positive change will ever come to a world which doesn't think positive change can happen #and oppression is not positive change.#and it also pains me how so much of zionist rhetoric feeds off of post-holocaust fear #and i get it. i get that in the mid 20th century we were so scared and angry after the holocaust #and that we desperately wanted a safe haven #i will never not empathize with that fear and rage because it's justified #but that is no excuse to oppress another group of people. there are other ways to be safe and happy i promise #just stop hurting each other... please... you're not helping anyone...#palestine #israel #zionism

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sam-txt · 8 months

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but alas i was no swimmer / so i lost my clementine

#drew this in like 3 hours and i kind of hate it now but it's FINE we're GOOD #just don't look too close ig #dead boy detectives #edwin paine #charles rowland #edwin wanting to protect charles but not having very much ability to actually Do That makes me sad #like all he can do is close his eyes for him when he dies #''someone's got to look after you''#when he gave his hat to tragic mick..#the entirety of the latest sandman universe run with him trying to help charles after getting cursed and fix everything but feeling helples #can anybody hear me....#my art

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thedreadvampy · 10 months

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btw about Neil Gaiman I periodically agree with the 'Neil Gaiman is annoying' stuff bc I feel like both he and Amanda Palmer seem like people who I would go insane stuck in a room with bc we have very different ideas about art and suchlike. and I also do think that the career trajectory he's on lately is cynically redoing his greatest hits and pretending that was the dream all along when it clearly was not. which is at best meh.

having said which

as far as I can tell by far the most common complaint about Neil Gaiman is "Snow, Glass, Apples is problematic/gross/it's got incest and rape and frames the child as the aggressor"

which strikes me as a weird complaint to pull out of a 40 year body of work tbh when that short story is pretty clearly coming from a place of 'how far can I push this'. like you don't have to like the story. I don't really like the story. but it is. a horror story.

like and this is the thing with particularly 90s alt horror right? a lot of the interest is in transgression and sitting in the worst possible perspective and seeing what happens if you pull those strings. like I really like Clive Barker for example but there's a good chunk of his short stories that I'm like I'm not picking up what you're putting down Clive this seems Kinda Off. but that willingness to write some trite or Bad Message horror fiction that doesn't land is imo a side effect of being willing to try writing uncomfortable and unpleasant fiction at all. which is what horror is for, among other things, it's for creating discomfort as a form of catharsis or engagement.

like I am not a huge fan of the type of sex-horror that pops up in a lot of Gaiman's work and other contemporary horror writers - to me I don't find it upsetting or horny it just ends up feeling kind of edgy and tryhard - but I'm also a bit like. it does seem like a lot of people's beef with Neil Gaiman is that In The 90s He Was A Horror Writer

and this approach to Problematic Horror in Snow, Glass, Apples I find kind of microcosmic of how The Discourse often approaches art in this kind of 1:1 way. if you write a story which seems to line up with rape apologia it can only be because you agree with it. if you write a story about transphobia you're a transphobe. if you write a story that makes me genuinely uncomfortable you're attacking me.

but artwork, especially art like horror that's not necessarily trying to provoke enjoyment as its main response, is necessarily hit and miss. and if what you're shooting for is discomfort then whether it works, falls flat or goes too far incredibly depends on your audience. and making good art - as in art that makes its audience think, art that opens the audience up to discomfort and catharsis and sticks with them and changes them - requires the space to experiment and tbh the space to fuck up. like they aren't all going to be winners and they certainly aren't all going to work for you as a singular audience.

personally I don't see the appeal of Snow, Glass, Apples, less cause it's nasty and more cause it's hack. ooh an edgy monstrous version of a fairy tale where there's lots of rape and cannibalism? you're soooo original Neil. but like. that's fine. I don't really vibe with like 70% of Neil Gaiman stuff I've read but I still like Neil Gaiman because the stuff that works for me really works for me.

idk I think there's a lot of folk on this website who shouldn't interact with horror cause they clearly aren't interested in being horrified. that's not everyone who dislikes Snow, Glass, Apples, but it's a real undercurrent to a lot of the criticism and tbh this kinda vibe is shit for art. making standout art What Is Good also requires being ready to make art which stands out for the wrong reasons. sometimes they'll be the same art to different people.

#red said #not to Cancel Culture this but isabelle fall springs to mind in a lot of how folks talk about stuff like this #like she wrote a transgressive piece exploring her own negative feelings about transness and her anger around a transphobic trope #and she made something which i found really resonant and interesting #and she got torn apart for it because it Might From Some Angles Agree With Transphobia #and I'm not making a direct comparison. because i think attack helicopter is a really GOOD story and i think SGA is gratuitous and hack #but that's the thing right? transgression and discomfort and speaking about unpleasant things in an openended way are KEY #to making art that engages directly with your own pains and angers and discomforts #and that's hard to mediate tbh. but it's also very necessary.#i think as well thinking about Gaiman this is also a thought I've often had about Amanda Palmer #who over the years has written a lot of songs about things i find genuinely uncomfortable or offensive.#and i can engage with 'it's fucked up to tell your ex they transed their gender At You' or 'your partner's suicide is not about you' bc yeah #but #you can't celebrate someone for making confessional music then get mad because you don't like everything they confess #if you only take about your socially acceptable thoughts it's not really confessional is it?#if you only talk about discomforting things that people are comfortable hearing about its not really discomforting #and you can only really discern what's Good Transgressive and what's Damaging Transgressive through doing i think #so if you want challenging art you are going to have to get some art which challenges you and you go hmm no i still disagree #is what i think #so yeah you can hate the artwork but when an artist is specifically setting out to make challenging art it's weird to hate them #for making 50 pieces of art you like and 1 you hate

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