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forelevenses · 11 months

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of matzo and the sniffles

rating: G fandom: team fortress 2 warnings: no archive warnings apply characters: scout (tf2), medic (tf2) pairing: scout (tf2)/medic (tf2) summary: Medic has been feeling under the weather, and Scout decides it's nothing soup can't cure. Written for the TF2 Rare Pair Mini-Week Day 2 prompt: 'Sweet'

with lovely art done by @verchielmarch ! 💕 read here or on ao3!

“Yeah... Uh-huh... Uh-huh... 'Course I got that down...” Scout crumbled the small sticky note with his free hand idly and flicked it straight to the wastebasket. Boom! Nothing but net! Let's see that fancy Spy do any better!

But before he could picture Spy worshiping his clearly superior paper ball throwing skills, an irate tone on the other side of the line killed his daydream and he groaned, “Oh come on Ma, will ya quit your worryin'? It's just soup, I got this! Look, I'll tell Doc you said 'Hi', alright? I gotta go,” He looked to his left. And he looked to his right.

“Love you too Ma, I'll talk to ya later,” he added softly and hung the phone back up.

The base was quiet for the most part— a rare day off that everyone took no issue taking advantage of.

Well, almost everyone.

It started a few days ago with a sneeze. Doc paid no mind, what with all the birds hangin' around in the med-bay, of course he'd sneeze every once in a while. Not a big deal. But then the one sneeze turned into a few, then the sore throat came in, plus the fever and now the poor guy is stuck in his room with the worst “upper respiratory infection” he's had in years.

Or a cold, as Scout eloquently put it.

It broke ya heart lookin’ at the guy, all bedridden and miserable. Scout thought he hadn’t seen his Doc look that bad ever– he's even got him wearin' a mask whenever he stops by (and the guy's been elbow-deep in everyone's gaping chest with his bare hands before, so this had to be serious). He asked why he just can't point his Medigun straight at himself and bam! Cold gone! But the Doc sneezed, said he's tried that multiple times already in fact, and argued that even that can't cure the common cold.

And that's where Ma comes in. Cause you see, no fancy egghead (and he means 'egghead' with all the love and affection in the world, he swears it) science, mumbo-jumbo crap will fix colds. But his Ma's famous Matzo ball soup will definitely kick that cold's ass for sure! Whenever his brothers or him got sick, just a few spoonfuls of that and they'd be up and runnin' in no time at all! He didn't know what his Ma puts in it (well he does, that was the whole point of callin' her in the first place), but if this didn't end up helping his poor Doc then nothing will.

Scout looked over his scrawl once more: chicken, schmaltz, matzo meal, celery, carrots...

He ain't stupid, he can pull this off easy!

All right, perhaps there may have been some unforeseen difficulties.

Not entirely all his fault: the first store he went to only had the canned stuff and his Ma insisted the balls had to be homemade. So, Heavy and him drove all the way across town to the other grocery store to get the Matzo meal, but then! Their vegetables were complete crap! Can’t give Doc no crappy vegetables! Then they drove all the way back to the first store, finished the rest of the shopping there, came back to the base, and wouldn't you know? Spy was hoggin' up the stove with his sorry lookin' French pancakes or whatever the hell they're called.

What kind of friggin' pancake is so thin anyway? Nevermind that he ate three of them and was the best thing he put in his mouth all day- it just ain't right.

As he stirred the pot one last time before shutting the burner off, it hit Scout this was the first time he made food for someone other than his Ma or brothers. It made his palms all sweaty thinkin' about it- it's not like he was a shit cook or anything, but there was just something about going through all that trouble to make such a small thing for someone. But Medic wasn't just anyone, and he'd gladly go through everything again if it meant it helped him feel better.

(God, how did Doc make him all mushy and stuff?)

But it was starting to get late, and he'd rather not keep Doc waitin' forever. He plated up the best looking Matzo, made sure there were plenty of chicken bits in there, and even threw in a piece of toasted bread for good measure. Not to brag or anythin', but it's probably the best damn soup he's ever made. He made himself his own bowl before loading it up on the tray and made his way over to the med-bay.

Doc's own corner of the base was quiet and still for once, and it didn't feel right at all. Trying his best not to drop the tray, Scout opened the office door. Archimedes perched on top of his favorite skeletal model, cooing in welcome. Scout chuckled and dug out some sunflower seeds from his pocket, catching Archimedes ' interest.

“Hey birdbrain,” Scout said, offering the seeds. Archimedes ruffled his feathers in appreciation and began to peck away at the seeds. “How's our Doc doin' today?” he asked. He cooed softly and a muffled cough rang out. Scout hummed, “'Bout the same, huh?” After Archimedes finished the last of the seeds, he scratched the top of his head and looked towards the private quarter's door.

(Ya know, maybe the soup was a bad idea, what if he-)

No! It was gonna be fine, ya big wuss!

Scout drew a deep breath and walked over to the door. The coughing stopped, but he could imagine how miserable Doc was feeling. He balanced the tray once more, and knocked.

“Hey Doc,” Scout said softly, “Mind if I come in?”

A coughing fit answered him and after it subsided, a miserable “Ja” invited him. Alright, it's go time. Scout fished out a mask from his back pocket, hastily put it on with his free hand, and opened the door.

While the medical office itself was rather cut-and-dry and like any other doctor's office Scout has been too, Doc's room was anything but. It was homey, and if Scout didn't know any better, he would have believed he was in some cottage in the middle of the woods rather than the base. Right in the middle of the room, Doc laid in his bed, nestled in his blankets looking anything but cozy.

“How're you feelin' today?” Scout asked, walking closer to the bed.

“The mucus has subsided, but the cough has been persistent,” Doc said, “No signs of my appetite returning, I'm afraid.”

“Ya know, that's too bad,” Scout hummed, “Guess I gotta finish these two bowls of Matzo here all by myself.” At that, Doc perked up.

“Matzo?” Doc sat up in his spot in the bed, Scout snickering at how fast he adjusted himself, “Recent studies have shown soup has wonderful medicinal benefits for the common cold, you know?”

“Oh yeah?” Scout laughed, setting the tray down onto the bed. “Well, ya better start chowin' down then! The one on the right is yours,” he said as he pulled up a chair.

Without any hesitation, Doc picked up the bowl, pulled his own face mask down, and took a good spoonful of the broth down. He hummed delightfully and took another big spoonful.

“Hey, hey, careful there or ya gonna burn yourself,” Scout laughed, picking up his own bowl from the tray.

“But taybele,” Doc said, the pet name making his chest flutter harder than the time Archimedes spent stuck inside, “This is wonderful! And you made this?”

“Yup!” Scout said, puffing out his chest, “Family recipe! Don't worry, I'll show ya once you get better!”

“Please do!” Doc said, taking a bite off the bread. “Thank you, liebster.” Scout smiled and took his dear Doc's hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it.

“Anytime, darlin'.”

#team fortress 2 #mediscout #blunt trauma #tf2 scout #tf2 medic #I already posted a link once but I am cross-posting here to now don't mind doo doo doo #miki.fic

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dickfics69 · 1 year

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Emotional Motion Sickness | Part 3 | A Rickyl ficlet

Rick x Daryl

AO3

Summary: Daryl gets sick before a supply run, and denies it vehemently. He is a big tantrum baby. Rick is constantly worried and drama ensures.

Chapter 3 summary: As Daryl prepares to leave for the run, he is accosted by other members of the convoy.

AU: This fic has some timeline and plot-point changes. They are still in the prison and the second Governor fight never happened. He died in the first one and the last few months have been them adjusting to all the new Woodbury inhabitants. Rick and Lori broke up when Shane was killed, but Rick still lost his mind when she died. Daryl and Rick have just recently gotten together. Farmer Rick era is lot shorter than in the show. An original character is introduced for plot furthering purposes.

Content warning: adult language, sickfic, mess, snot, bodily functions, hurt/comfort, vivid nightmares, adult content, 18+ for eventual smut (still deciding hehe), ORIGINAL CHARACTER MAKES APPEARANCE IN THIS CHAPTER

Word Count: 3k+

My personal Daryl Dixon playlist

As always, huge shout out to @dumbslxtclub for editing my grammar and being the best hype girl ever <3

Chapter 3: People are annoying, leave me alone.

Daryl placed a cigarette between his chapped lips, fiddling with his lighter until flame made contact with paper. He knew better than to aggravate his delicate immune system with a wave of hot tobacco, but right now he didn’t really give a shit.

He took a tentative drag. The heavy smoke permeated through his upper respiratory tract, lighting up inflamed airways like a forest fire. The deep burning, unsurprisingly, caused an almost vomit inducing coughing fit, launching Daryl forward once more. He was getting really fucking sick of this.

Tears, snot and saliva joined together to render the hunter’s face a wet dripping mess. Recovering enough, he returned to vertical and dried the mess with a cleanish section of his sweatshirt. Glancing down at the cigarette that was still turning to ash in his fingers, he contemplated trying again. ‘Mm, better not,’ he thought and stubbed the rest of it out, throwing it to the wayside. Breathing shakily, Daryl brought the back of his wrist up to his sore nose and gave it a tired rub, trying to ascertain whether he should expect an encore from his sinuses, determining that he was safe. For now.

Daryl was leant up against one of the external prison walls overlooking the courtyard. There was just enough of a lip above his head to keep the October rain from completely drenching him. Although running between the truck and prison had definitely dampened him enough for his fever to start rising again. Fortunately for Daryl their vehicle had pretty much been stocked by the time he got out there. Normally the hunter preferred to be in charge of the cargo that left the prison walls, but today he was just grateful that he didn’t have to exert himself too much.

Continuing his respite against the cold brick, Daryl was shivering and desperately trying to wipe his memory of the events of the morning. Guilt was an emotion that he despised and something he certainly didn’t have time for today.

Just as he was about to head down the stairs, the door to the left of him opened with an obnoxious laugh and a whip of long brunette curls. Peri.

‘Peri…Peri, uh, what’s-her-face.’

Peri What’s-her-face, was the group's latest addition, being welcomed in by Rick and the council when they had found her wandering about in a daze several weeks ago. Daryl didn’t know a lot about the woman except that she had an unusual aptitude for knife throwing but was bullshit with a gun. “Be nice, she’s improving,” Rick had said to his partner after a less than spectacular training session a week prior. Maybe she was. Too many people to keep to keep tabs on. Oh, she was Australian too, a geographical concept that seemed to flummox Daryl on a regular basis. Peri was charming enough, making everyone laugh with her Oceanic idioms and generally sunny disposition. She had a mad temper too and seldom took crap from anyone, resulting in a lot of heated arguments between the two. Recently she’d taken it upon herself to repeatedly guess Daryl’s middle name; a game that was endearing and irritating at the same time. Overall she was the type of person Daryl knew he’d end up loving and laughing with, but he didn’t have the energy to try today, especially with her weak skills accompanying him on the supply run.

“Oi kndife girl!” He rasped out as she started heading down the stairs.

“Yes bow-boy?” She retorted.

“You fired a gund without jumbping yet?”

“I’m getting there, Dixon. You know I actually grew up in a country with gun laws?” She leant back on the railing nonchalantly, drops of rain gathering atop her curly hair. “Thanks for the concern, but I can definitely hold my own in a Zombie crisis.”

“I’ll believe it wheheh-n I heh s’h’h’ETSCHUuu… hih’ATTCHtuu…heh…heh’snNXXTt oo-, ugh, fuck.” Daryl sneezed openly and suddenly, leaving a line of not-so-clear-anymore mucus trickling out of his left nostril.

An awkward silence followed as Daryl attempted pitifully to clean himself up.

“Dude you look like shit.” She said bluntly. A drastically different comment to what he was used to hearing today. Daryl laughed.

“Fuck you,” he finally said between sniffles and chuckles.

“Hey, fuck you too, mate,” she laughed loudly and heartily, holding up a middle finger to retain an amusing upper hand.

It was a weird and wonderful moment between prospering friends.

“Aah, alright D-man, I’m going to do a round, see if anyone has any item requests.” Throwing him a halfhearted peace sign. “Meet you at the truck, Daryl Norman??”

“Ndot even close.”

She smiled, shrugged and walked away, twirling a couple of daggers around her hands as though it was as easy as breathing.

Daryl pulled out another cigarette.

‘Strange girl.’

———-

A couple of barebows, fuel tanks, and silencers; Daryl loaded them into the Jeep, feeling the sickly heaviness grow worse with every single item. He stupidly expected to feel better with every new turn of the day. But denial is a silly creature. His congestion was so bad that he could barely even sniff anymore, no air able to pass through the swelling and snot that had made extended residence above the hunter's red-raw nostrils. It was still constantly dripping though, rendering the sleeves of his sweatshirt as good as a pack of tissues. Daryl was too tired to contemplate the juxtaposing predicament that was afflicting his sinuses. Running his hand across the arrows that sat atop his crossbow, he felt a couple of notches that were threatening to snap. He knew he should make some sort of repair attempt, but found that he could not move at this juncture in time, hands holding strong on the back of the truck with a little bit too much need.

“Daryl!” The newly adolescent voice of Carl frightened him out of his febrile stupor. How long had he been standing there?

“Shit kid, your daddy ever teach you ndot to sndeak up on people?”

“Uh yeah but I’ve been saying your name for the last thirty seconds so…” Yeah, Carl had been there a while.

Not knowing how to respond, Daryl went with a trademark grunt and busied himself with items in the back of their vehicle.

“Why aren’t you taking the bike?”

“Ndeeds fixin’.”

“If I help you when we get back will you teach me to ride?”

“That ain’t up to mbe, Carl.” Daryl brought his gaze to the young man, gazing apologetically down at him, pushing the deputy hat down over his eyes in a show of affection.

“Fine. Well Peri and I did a round and got a list of requests from people.” Carl handed a slip of paper to the man that landed itself directly in a damp pocket.

“Uh, thangks kid,” He said with a pitiful sniffle, hoping that the smaller Grimes man would walk away so he could cough or sneeze or blow his nose or something else gross and humiliating. But the boy hovered.

“Daryl, you okay?” Asked with more concern for general safety than anything else.

“Yes, Carl.”

“I was in the dining room earlier, so really. Are you okay?”

“Christ! Yeah! I’mb getting real fucgking sick of that question today!” He used his outburst as a good excuse to wipe some excess snot from his upper lip. Gotta keep up appearances.

“Okay.” Carl shrugged. “My dad’s looking for you by the way.”

Shit.

“Mb’kay, he kndows where to find mbe.” Daryl mumbled, hands on his crossbow again. Silence. Please leave me be. Daryl normally relished his time with the boy; teaching him card tricks, browsing comics, and fighting alongside him. But today there was no room for civility.

“Are you and my dad- I dunno- okay?” A hint of discomfort adorning the pubescent voice.

‘Are we?’ Daryl pondered melancholically. Truth be told, Rick and Daryl hadn’t been quote unquote ‘together’ for very long. The pair had always possessed an unbreakable resolve to protect each other, a friendship growing deeper as their found family triumphed over and over again. And then Lori died. While the husband and wife had separated long before the birth of Judith, the trauma of her passing sent Rick down a psychological rabbit hole and Daryl lost his best friend to an avalanche of grief. Unable to help, unable to ease the pain of his loss, Daryl redirected his affections and fell hopelessly in love with Judith, the tiniest addition to the family. The hunter made sure the beloved baby girl was alive and well for when her father came back to them. Then all of a sudden, he did. Rick had entered his room in the middle of the night, a face full of tears, glistening in the faint moonlight. He finally granted himself the comfort that Daryl ached to provide. The pair had held each other hard, long into the morning, falling asleep in a tangled mess of limbs. Nights like this became commonplace for the duo. At this point, they were both well aware of their mutual affections, but lacking Shakespeare’s apt for romantic declarations, they went unvoiced for much longer than anyone deemed necessary. Months of longing stares, gently brushing fingertips and falling asleep in the same bed culminated in a tearful night of emotional exclamations and explosions of physical passion. It was new. It was exciting. It was terrifying. But they loved each other, and that was enough for now.

Coming back to reality,Daryl reduced his immense thought process to a mere two word sentence.

“We’re finde.”

“Good.” Carl took a moment to choose his next words carefully. “Just so you know, if you hurt my dad, I’ll kill you.”

Daryl didn’t know how to fathom a response to this. Carl had virtually become a man overnight, protecting them all in ways he probably couldn’t comprehend. Now, there’s no way the boy could actually take the fully grown crossbow wearing man, but Daryl understood. The kid had lost so many people in such a short time. He understood. ‘I love him beyond comprehension, killing me is the least you could do if I ever hurt him.’

He settled for a curt nod.

“Good then. I’ll meet you back here soon, gotta say goodbye to Judy.” They shared a smile of understanding.

Carl walked away, passing the older Grimes man who was walking towards Daryl, joining the queue of personal irritants plaguing his morning.

“Hey.”

Rick lay the leather jacket he was holding over the side of the truck and wrapped his arms around the back of the sick man. Nestling his head into shoulder, he felt Daryl melt into the embrace. They stood there in comfortable silence, the manly scent of sweet tobacco and fresh cotton joining together as they breathed the other man in.

“You good?” Rick whispered delicately into his lover's ear.

A shiver of pleasure trickled its way through Daryl’s body and all he could manage was a tired, congested, “mmhm.”

“Carl ask you ‘bout the bike again?”

“Yep. Don’t worry I said ndo.” He responded with a small but wet cough. “Oh, and he threatened to mburder mbe if I ever hurt you.”

Rick turned his head away from Daryl’s and laughed heartily.

“It ain’t that funny!”

“No…I know!” He responded through fits of giggles. “He said the same thing to me!”

Daryl chuckled as much as his body would allow him without coughing. “Good to kndow he don’t play favourites.”

He was so comfortable in Rick’s arm’s he’d almost forgotten how goddamn awful he felt. The pressure in his head seemingly melted away as the weight of his skull rested on another. The strong arms enveloping his torso provided much needed warmth against the harsh, miserable weather. He was safe. He was warm. He didn’t want to go anywhere or move any muscle of his angry body. But they were in the midst of a supply crisis, and there was no time for selfish comforts. Not today. His nose chose his next move before the hunter could even formulate another thought. He shrugged Rick off as quickly as he could and grabbed hold of the trunk to steady himself for another onslaught of fittish sneezes. Daryl’s head reared back, mouth parting slightly.

“Hh…ehh..Hh’ExTChUu…H’HasTCHhUU…Hh’NXXtchu…heh…Hehh—! Jesus Fucking Christ!” The final sneeze never came, leaving him damp, teary and frustrated. A heavy drop of snot landed on the back of his hand that continued to hold onto the jeep for dear life. He snorted back as loudly as he dared, wiping the rest away with his forearm. A concerned hand reached to comfort him, but the belligerent man swatted it away. He abhorred being seen like this.

Rick watched Daryl struggle with pity and heartache, wanting to hold the man until he was okay again, but equally wanting to slap him for being a stubborn prick. He chose neither and became a gawky witness to the grossest sneezing fit he’d ever seen.

“So um…” The Deputy started, but didn’t know how to articulate his thoughts, scared of the reaction from partner. “Back in th’ dining room…I was…I was talkin’...”

“Say what you gotta say!” Daryl spat. Emotionally and literally.

“Well, I was talk’n to Glenn, and he’s willin’ to come today in your place if you’re not up for it.” A tense silence followed, and when no answer came, Rick continued. “You need to rest Daryl! God, how’r ya supposed to get through a trip when you can barely stand?”

A taut silence perfused the air, and Rick prepared himself for the Daryl Dixon onslaught.

“You. Fucking. What?” He whipped around to face his partner, eyes filled with that same unbridled fury that premiered during the breakfast showdown. “Whatever happened to givin’ me space and ndot saying stupid shit huh? Jesus, how mandy times do I gotta say I’mb finde for you people to leave mbe the fuck alone?!” Daryl was on the edge of pure ferocity, pacing around in a feverish tantrum.

Rick knew the telltale signs of a Daryl Dixon meltdown and would usually intervene, but he was so pissed off with the contentious man that he decided to add fuel to the fire.

“Y’know, sometimes I can’t believe how goddamn idiotic you are! The fuck you think you’re gaining by being so pigheaded? God! You’re such an irresponsible asshole y’know?”

“You wannda talk about irresponsible, Rick Grimbes? How ‘bout thinkin’ before you let half a dozend strangers into the prison without stocking up on rations huh? Or what about that damnbed farming bullshit? Christ, you’re su-huhch a f-huh-cking…heh..h’hypocrite…hih!”

A secondary ripple of irritation surged through Daryl’s nose, leaving him powerless to continue the fight. He held up a middle finger to his boyfriend, a lax attempt at appearing tough when he was truly the picture of misery.

Rick stood impatiently, watching the other man getting sicker with every painful, waist-bending sneeze. Did he want to punch Daryl? Yes. Did he want to hold him? Yes. Did he want fuck him sideways because he was feeling very weirdly turned on? Also yes. He sighed, shaking away bewildered frustrations. After the attack on the prison, both men found it difficult to reign in their tempers, and were quick to lash out, often at each other. With some wise suggestion from Herschel Greene, Daryl took to going on solo hunting trips to clear his head, and Rick turned his focus on the developing prison farm. At this juncture in time, the Deputy willed himself to be the bigger person and back down. Daryl would come to his senses sooner or later. Hopefully before he passed out.

“You done?”

“...Yeah.” The hunter breathed shakily, rubbing his nose hard with the palm of his hand.

“Here, put this on and let's go.” Rick held out the leather jacket to Daryl with a sigh. It absolutely wasn’t warm enough, but it would have to do for today.

“I aind’t your kid Rick, I’mb finde.” He looked down on the jacket with contempt, although at this point he didn't know why. He was fucking freezing.

“It’s forty five fucking degrees Daryl, put the damn jacket on!”

Snatching the coat from the outstretched arm, the sickly man broke into another wet coughing fit. He wanted to have the last word but couldn’t seem to catch his breath. ‘Jesus. Merle and dad were right, you are pathetic.’

“Oi!” He finally croaked, drawing the attention of his partner who had started walking away. “I’mb drivin’!”

“Whatever, Daryl.” Rick tossed his arms up in weary defeat. “And hey, do us all a favour, cover your damn mouth!” He slammed the door of the passenger side closed, beckoning the others in. Unbeknownst to the lovers, Carl and Peri had witnessed most of the heated argument and stood gaping at them in shock.

“Do your dad’s always fight like this?” Peri whispered to Carl, who frowned between Daryl and the echo of Rick’s presence .

“Get in th’ car!” Daryl mumbled forcefully, watching the two younger companions hurry into the vehicle like scared little kids.

Daryl exasperatedly ran a hand through the wet clumps of his hickory hair. He wanted to scream and punch and cry. ‘God! You’re the absolute fucking worst. You don’t deserve him.’ He fought off pressing tears with an aggressive snort, attempting to rid himself of the ever worsening gunk that filled his sinuses to the brim. He looked down at the jacket in his hand and begrudgingly threw it on, thankful for something even a skerrick drier than that already clinging to his fever riddled body. He put his hands into the pockets and paused when he grazed something. In the right, a clean red handkerchief, neatly folded. In the left, a small blister pack of cold and flu tablets.

He made a small silent sob as the ever dreaded guilt rose in his throat like hot bile. ‘You really really don’t deserve him.’

No time for that. No room for weakness.

He gathered all the strength he could find and hopped into the driver’s seat. Daryl wiped his eyes and cleared his throat, praying to some sort of god that he could get through the next few hours without sneezing or coughing or something else that would paint him fragile and humiliated. He was not a faithful man.

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inkybirdy · 2 years

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I’m kinda worried, you talk about being tired a lot in recent posts. Please take care of yourself!

oh dear - I don't mean to worry anybody, but I really appreciate your concern! It's been a rough year but I'm okay, I promise. I'm working on taking better care of myself, even if the last few months have been fighting against me.

(though now that I'm thinking about it, I feel comforted when I find people with similar situations to mine that are open to offering their perspectives, so if you want an update/some frank conversation on lifelong chronic illness I'll put it under the cut)

I was super sick as a little kid (like, NICU ill, with RSV) and my family has a genetic cocktail of nonsense, so I've never been physically sturdy - and I didn't really have a consistent physician or medical care schedule so I ended up blindsided by a lot of things that got a lot worse as an adult because. Well, when you've always been chronically ill to some extent it's difficult to gauge what's normal.

(please keep in mind i'm absolutely an expert regarding medical stuff, and my medical care history has been... a varied patchwork with a lot of different people doing a lot of tests and guesswork.)

According to the doctors I saw when I started going in for regular check-ups in college, I was living with lungs and an immune system that weren't great to begin with and were otherwise kind of a time bomb. Basically, around the time that I moved out to live on my own and go to college, my health got significantly worse.

For instance, at one point one of my (extremely common) upper respiratory infections turned into pneumonia that lasted for over a month. I had to go in for breathing treatments and had to argue with my doctors against hospitalization because of insurance/school/work, etc. By the time I started recovering I was on a regular inhaler for the first time in my life and my reactive airways were more 'reactive' than ever with then-diagnosed asthma. Anything can set them off - changes in temperature, humidity, a cold, stress, exhaustion, dust, aerosols, etc. It's kind of like I'm one of those classic Victorian waifs ready to waste away from Ill Humor (tm), but I've got shit to take care of so I can't afford to lay around on a fainting couch.

Anyway, it kind of evened out to a new 'normal' for me for the last couple of years with minimal progression, until I got super sick again in December of last year. I never tested positive for COVID, but my doctors were pretty sure I had a fun salad of flu, upper respiratory and sinus infections, and pneumonia that lasted until like. February.

The fun part about being chronically ill and having an immune system that is constantly panicking is that it doesn't really like. Recover. Or, it takes a long time to bounce back. I have long-term damage from the pneumonia I had in college, and this was like that x4 - I've come to terms with the fact I'm going to be sickly for a long a time, and so far there isn't a whole lot that can be done about it.

Another doctor told me that when your immune system gets set back like that it can trigger other, 'dormant' conditions too - for example, a new thing that's developed since The Great Fuckening of December 2021 is a hypersensitivity to vitamin deficiencies and thyroid levels, which is a thing in my family but not something I've dealt with. Further, according to my latest doctor, straight-up narcolepsy. (Which like - I dealt with chronic fatigue a lot in college to the point that became a joke, but it was a lot less funny hearing it while sitting on an exam table.) But, because I'm already taking the highest amount of adderall that I possibly can for my weight, which I'm told is a pretty common treatment for it, there isn't a whole lot to be done about it at the moment to improve from where I already am in that respect.

So, altogether that means that at 'default' I'm very tired all the time, and I get sick pretty easily and pretty often. Like, oh-shit-another-bad-cold-every-three-weeks sick, or worse. It doesn't help that I have a pretty demanding job, which takes tolls on even very sturdy and healthy people that get into it. But. ¯_(ツ)_/¯

I've managed to keep it from impacting my ability to do my job too much, but it takes a lot out of me. It impacts my ability to keep in touch with my loved ones, my responsibilities outside of work, my hobbies (I can't even count at this point how many times I've been too sick to run D&D or slept through it, or gotten really behind in my planning because I've been sleeping) etc. I have to be pretty careful about how I budget the energy that I have in a day if I'm trying not to overexert myself - it can be pretty demoralizing.

That all sounds very depressing, and some days are a lot more difficult than others - but it's also not all bad. For example, I was able to pick up writing Crown of Calamity initially while I was super sick, and being able to get into having fun with LoZ again has been great and something I've been able to do without a lot of time pressure.

And, most importantly, I'm an extremely lucky person. My two siblings are absolutely incredible. We have a lot of common ground with our struggles and a lot of understanding for one another, and I'm grateful that we're able to live close enough to one another that we can be there to help when one of us needs it. Not only that - but I have a job, and a place to live, and three annoying cats that I love, and very sweet online pals who check in on me.

So, while things have been difficult with my health stuff and everything outside of it that's been going on, I'm okay - or, I'm going to be. Every day I'm learning a bit more about my new iteration of 'normal' and I'm trying to get into better habits so I don't overwork myself, and I have family that I can ask for help when I need it.

I hope that this wasn't a big depressing dump - Instead, I hope maybe some of you guys can relate to it, maybe take some comfort in the idea that you're not the only one dealing with dumb chronic health stuff that doesn't really have a clear 'fix.'

And, I hope that you guys know how much I appreciate you! Whatever difficulties you're facing in this current iteration of "Oh Goddammit Why Can't We Have A Good Year" - please know that I'm rooting for you, and I care about you, too.

I don't really know how to end this, but - thank you again. Really, truly.

#text #asks #long post #cw chronic illness #tbd? maybe? i don't know #i'm really not used to talking about it honestly ahah #but also i don't wanna worry anybody - it could be better but it could be worse!

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queerspaceprince · 29 days

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some of yall haven't had the air in your house feel toxic as soon as your parent comes home.

I was waiting for her to say something to guage it bc I figured she'd be in a mood bc my grandparents are sick and she's been staying with my grandmother-and she has a tendency of taking out her moods on everyone around her.

bro it's been 2 days and not even a hello, just yelling.

oh, some hay from the pig go stuck to your sock and got into the kitchen??? you don't deserve a pet.

you didn't deep clean the house between going to work and fighting an upper respiratory infection so annoying you cough whenever you try to talk? you're fuckin lazy

you haven't asked about your sick grandparents (as if she hadn't been sending updates and has been home for all of 10 minues) youre just a piece of shit.

#family #in the very loosest sense #shes been better than she was when we were younger #but maybe thats just because we see her less?#idk #then there are days like this where i want to spend 0 time with her

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yrndrgn · 4 months

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Brain zaps be zapping again

I'm going through this headache again, and I'm so upset about it. I'm not even going through a decrease- I increased goddamnit. I thought they only happened if you decreased. Now I have the metal balls jangling in my head if I so much as move my eyes wrong. Even my tinnitus has taken on a tinny sound. I hate these things so much. Life feels like it's on pause once they start up. I only get them closer to the evenings, so it's not too bad. But, like, some times they start at 5:00PM and mess up my whole evening. I'm in law school damnit- I've got shit to do.

I've also had some scary bad ones recently.

About three weeks ago, I was having a really shitty time. I got dumped, I was plagued by some unknown upper respiratory infection (not COVID), and- key point here- I had vomited a little after taking my meds. The only medication in the puke was the Mucinex I had taken earlier, but my other meds were also probably disrupted because of it. Due to- just- the emotional devastation that I felt and in generally feeling utterly like shit all the time, I hadn't been able to sleep for about 48 hours.

Not great for a sick person.

It was getting late. My dad had gone off to bed. I go up to brush my teeth because they were feeling shitty because, well, depression. My head had been buzzing for maybe an hour- the occasional long series of zaps, but also just buzzing pain in general. Enough to note, but not enough to really to make myself do anything about. I'm on the stairs when something feels off the first time. A lot of zaps go off at once and make my head feel a little dizzy.

Worrying.

I make my way to the bathroom and start brushing my teeth. That's when things got really bad.

I'm one of those people who shakes their head as I brush my teeth. I move in rhythm with the brush. Maybe the motion caused it because suddenly a whole bunch of zaps go off all at once. Just simultaneously blasting away at my brain. My body goes stiff I feel like I'm about to fall over and out of control of my body. The worst part was my vision. The world just started kinda melting. Y'know how sometimes a bunch of window screen will pop up in this specific diagonal overlap? It was like that but also a little liquidy. There was this sound as it happened- like when one dribbles basketballs really low and quickly to the ground but more metal. I remember feeling so stiff.

My body doesn't respond to my commands for a second, but somehow I pushed my will through enough for me to stop myself from falling. I panic finish because what the fuck just happened? I'm heartbroken, depressed, exhausted, sick, and now terrified because I lost control of my body for a second. I leave the bathroom and proceed to have another one. There's basketballs. My head hurts. My limbs stiffen.

The world melts.

I cling to some shelves. I gain back control. I'm scared. Do I move? Do I stay? I'm so tired. I need to go back downstairs. I need my meds. I want my dad.

My dad went to bed- that means he's in the room right next to me.

This is purely a matter of happenstance. Due to some shenanigans involving the AC units at home, my dad started sleeping in my sister's room since she had already left for her own place, and her room conjoins my childhood bedroom through the bathroom. I went to my childhood bedroom by habit despite not sleeping there because my AC unit was among the broken ones because, when you're feeble, sickly, prissy prissy prince(ss) like me, you need to be able to cool the room a little while on a tropical island. I was standing in my room at the time, maybe I could drag myself just far enough to get my dad.

I move slowly. I keep one hand webbed in the shelve's grids as I travel, then pressed against the wall once there are no more shelves.

I'm in the doorway when a third one hits. Maybe because it's happened twice now, but it's not quite as bad. But the world still melts for a bit.

I cling my to my sister's bedroom door and knock. I call out for my dad and quietly open the door.

He's tired and confused and worried.

"There's something wrong with me. I don't think it's safe for me to go down the stairs alone. Can you help me?"

I feel like a little kid all over again.

Instead of doing what my routine-oriented brain thinks of which is guiding me downstairs then back to the actual room I sleep in, he slips me into what was his bed. He rubs my back and strokes my hair then goes to get my meds. My Ate comes to check because she heard something happened and know that I'm still really sick. She brings me an extra blanket and some water.

My dad returns with my meds and my phone. He tells me to text him or my Ate if I need anything and to get some rest.

I take all my meds plus a Tylenol PM and finally sleep for the first time in over 48 hours.

I haven't had brain zaps as bad as that day since.

But every time they start back up, I worry if it'll happen again, and if this time I really do lose control. My dad isn't here to help me again. I don't know if there's anyone who could help me if they happen again.

#tw depressing thoughts #brain zaps #my head huuuurts #my ears are ringing #they're tinny now #kinda metally #it's annoying #lexapro #in case it helps to know what SSRI I'm on #ssri #what's wrong with me #what's wrong this time #i love my dad #constitution is my dump stat #law student #sorry for being depressing #i feel alone

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power-of-glitter · 1 year

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Well, hey there it's me again. back at it again :)

so this ENTRE week was a complete shit show. My son ended up getting sick which took me out for this whole week. I got a URI (Upper Respiratory Infection) and I could not break my fever of 105 for the past 2.5 days. I ended up getting hospitalized. Natalia and I. I was not expecting this at all. Thank God I got savings to help me for little for this week. I really want to ask why me...however there are some things that I have no control over. First Covid, then my hit-and-run accident, followed by attempted mugging, and now this! Death by cooties! WHAT! THE! FUCK! I really don't want any of this to have happened. Where on earth is Osmosis Jones at? He is laggin' at his job! Well, at least I've held up one of my New Year's resolutions. My Health. I did promise myself that I would take better care of myself. That should count for something right?

I feel really bad. Because of my sickness that put me out for the last week, I might get kicked out of JobTrain for this semester. I was taking their IT support because hey I want to work from home too ya know. We will see this coming up Monday if I'm still in the program. I hope I am If not that's okay too. I'm sure ill be able to retake it again next time. In the meantime, there is always Code Academy.

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chrisevansdaughter · 1 year

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Fucking doctors =_= You should always get at least an X-Ray if it's related to the upper respiratory tract (I've been through some shit, and I had X-Ray and CT scans after I recovered to make sure everything looks good).

Oat (or soy, something relatively thick) milk will work as well, as long as you include honey and butter.

I know I mean I hate hospitals as much as anything they are hell holes for me, but I went in with a chest infection and got told it was an upper respiratory and if anything is still concerning I’ll go to the doctors on base, and they’ll do an X-ray if they need, because I’d have to go to a hospital for a ct scan and there are horrible, I had one when I had a concussion and I hated it.

But I’ll definitely try it :)

#chrisevansdaughter #chris evans #chris evans daughter #chrisevansdaughter loves 💖❤️#chrisevansdaughter speaks 🫶🏻#chrisevansdaughter online 💖#chrisevansdaughter moots #love anons ❤️#chrisevansdaughter anons #anons welcome

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overenthusiasticcartoonlover · 2 years

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I am out of the hospital! I’ve just got a very annoying upper respiratory infection, and they sent me home with some anti-biotics and nausea meds. I still feel like shit, but at least they were able to do something this time.

#Over Life Update #I feel like shit #Being sick sucks so bad #and the medical bill from the hospital is going to be so annoying

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rosemary-rabbit · 3 years

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Hi! Poly!Lost Boys once again but this time taking care of a sick Reader? I know this prompt is incredibly common but I just love this sort of fluff <3

Hi Angel, sorry this took forever! I started back at college again and it just took up my time

I hope you enjoy!

As I lay

(Poly! lost boys x GN! Reader)

You found out that your coworker had gotten sick and that must’ve been how you had gotten sick as well. The doctor said it was just an upper respiratory infection but you swore it was so much more than that. It felt like any moment you were going to pass out.

However, you had a date with the boys and you really didn’t want to cancel it. You never liked cancelling plans when it came to them. But, if you were feeling as poorly as you were, you did not want to leave your house.

One thing you so tragically forgot to do when you got home was call them. Instead, you passed out on your living room couch.

The boys had waited at the boardwalk for 30 minutes before worry clouded their minds. You were almost never late to dates unless your shift held over. When 30 minutes turned into an hour, David decided that they needed to go to your place to make sure nothing bad had happened

When they got there, they noticed there were no lights on but your car was in the driveway. They parked their bikes behind your car and walked to the front of the house to try and look through your windows. Because it was so dark, they couldn’t see anything at all and that only increased their worry.

So, they fiddled around your front porch until they found your spare key and made haste with the door. When they entered your house, you immediately woke up and screamed. They were quick to calm you down and assure you that they were not going to harm you.

When you calmed down, you explained to them that you had gotten sick and forgot to call them. They were extremely understanding.

However, hearing that you were sick did not escape them so quickly.

Dwayne immediately suggested that you should change clothes and go lay down in your bedroom while Marko and Paul offered to go out to the local pharmacy to get you whatever you needed.

Before you could answer them, David sent them off with a spoken list of things to get. When they left he nodded at Dwayne before stalking off to the other part of your house.

Dwayne gently scooped you up into his arms and carried you to your bedroom. He let you dress yourself before he coaxed you into your bed. You didn’t expect to fall asleep as soon as you did. But when you woke up, later, you were met with a welcomed sight.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” Dwayne asked, moving his hand to touch your forehead. His hand was cold against your burning skin. It felt good.

“I feel like shit.” you said, looking up at him, “But I’m glad you guys are here.” Dwayne hummed and moved his hand away.

“Where's David?” you asked.

“He’s shifting around your kitchen to see what things you have.” Dwayne answered, gently running his fingers through your hair.

“We brought you some things so you can get better.” Marko quipped from the end of your bed

“Yeah, we didn’t know what to get you so we got just about everything.” Paul added, while walking into your room. He went and plopped himself down in your bean bag chair with something in his hands.

You didn’t bother to ask what it was and instead you stretched out your aching body. You felt slightly better after sleeping some of the ick off.

“Okay, so, they should take two of these, one of these, and then they should sleep some more and when they wake up, they have to eat.” David announced to the boys with some bottles in his hands. You opened your eyes to peer at him. He looked up at your sickly figure.

“I hope you feel better than you look.” David quickly said with a grin before tossing the pill bottles to Dwayne. He caught them and quickly opened them.

“Wow, David, I’m so happy to see you too.” you replied with a smile. Dwayne nudged your hand to give you the antibiotics. “I don’t have a cup of anything to swallow.” you mentioned.

“Oh, you can use my flask.” Paul said, nonchalantly.

“You can’t take pills with alcohol.” Dwayne said, giving Paul a nasty look.

“I never said there was alcohol in this. It’s lemon water.” Paul mumbled.

“Bullshit.” Marko called.

Paul quickly handed the flask to Dwayne and he quickly took a sniff of the contents inside. To double check, he also took a swig.

“Fuck, Paul, okay, here use this.” Dwayne said, handing you the flask. You popped the pills into your mouth and used the contents of the flask to swallow them. When you were done you handed the flask back to Dwayne and wiped your mouth.

“Why is your flask filled with lemon water? That’s just tacky.” You asked, leaning back onto your pillows.

“No one expects it.”

#the lost boys 1987 #the lost boys #the lost boys paul #the lost boys marko #the lost boys dwayne #the lost boys david #the lost boys x reader #the lost boys imagines

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midigated · 2 years

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so I've got some health issues that I'm trying to address.

I had to get a follow-up CT scan of my chest.

I have been experiencing some weird respiratory issues since August. I don't go anywhere and stay home. I've been tested for covid (and tested a few times since)- it wasn't that.

I had an original CT scan done, was told to follow up in a few months to see if anything changes.

The respiratory issues haven't gone away either. Since August, it's been a thing. I've been put on many different meds, from acid reflux to allergy and asthma to cold/flu - nothing's relieved the issues.

It's been heavy on my head since I got the initial results in late September. I was told to complete a follow-up scan in a few months.

They found a small growth in my right upper lung, which is ... Great. They have ideas of what it COULD be but said I had to get a follow-up done. It didn't inspire confidence.

I'm hoping it's like a cyst but who knows.

I haven't had anything crazy like coughing up blood which is good. So I'm hopeful. I've just had some other issues like fast weight loss. Like, I've lost over 30 pounds since October, and uh... My appetite's been pretty bad, like the act of eating sucks because it's hard to swallow food. I. LOVE. FOOD. I can't stress that enough. But I'm having a hard time swallowing? It feels like I'm choking when I try to eat, like the food is stuck in my throat. Awful. The fucking worst. This even happens w/ certain liquids. I can push through drinking water, but anything w/ a higher viscosity gets harder.

I have to chew as thoroughly as possible even then; it's not a guarantee. :(

I can't explain why I lost so much so fast??? Like it's unhealthy to lose that much.

I constantly struggle with coughing, gagging, feeling like there's something stuck in my throat, my voice getting hoarser/raspier, the mucus is getting thicker and discolored and shortness of breath.

My doc prescribed me an inhaler. Doesn't do shit. No relief. I've had inhalers during certain seasons and I know when they work. This is the first time it's not.

The acid reflux meds aren't doing anything, even when I try to change the foods I eat to help. Nope. Nothing.

I take daily allergy meds - nothing.

I'm trying to keep a brave face. I really am.

I'm rationalizing what could be but it gets a little frustrating when all the diff meds I take don't really help or relieve any of my symptoms. It gets harder and harder to rationalize especially when I feel like shit for the past five months. I'm trying not to get into despair and doom when I don't *know* what's going on but being in the dark, waiting and waiting... It can put a person on edge.

So now I wait to hear back from my doctor on the new CT scan results. Crossing fingers it's just a cyst that needs to get removed from my lungs.

Crossing every single limb and appendage on my body lol.

Edit: last note

Here's to me reblogging this w/ celebratory confetti gifs. I'll gonna take a break again for a bit while I figure out what's going on.

#growing up i was always told that i was a hypochondriac by my parents so i have a thing about not taking my health serious #which was a problem for a while.#live ive sprained my ankle before i was like no big deal push through the pain itll get better.#it didnt #my ex had to push me to finally go to the doctor to get checked #same in this instance. my ex (we're still really good friends) pushed me to get checked out for my issues despite my stubborness #ah. gotta love it. every issue is a non issue when it comes to my health lol #the rare personal post lol #health care stuff?#i just want to eat a bowl of ramen without complications #like even NOW i am forcing myself to eat OATMEAL like soggy soft oatmeal. im chewing it a LOT its mostly liquid but its CHALLENGE

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nycorix · 2 years

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Consequences [7/11]

[fic post]

Over halfway through posting this thing now!! Here’s part 7, in which 22′s troubles multiply exponentially and 06 is relentlessly herself lmao

(tw: mentions of medical stuff like IVs and the occupational hazard™ etc.)

____________

The doctors and med techs speak quietly, private conferences behind closed doors like he can’t hear every word.

Or maybe they don’t care if he hears. Maybe some of them still think he’s biotech, not human, not a person. Dimly, he wonders why they even bother speaking aloud at all when they could easily just converse over implant, unless they actively want him to overhear it.

Whatever the case, he listens from the examination table as they argue over his test results—what they are, what they mean, how they compare to his baseline data. Everybody seems to have an opinion, but so far none of them seem to have called the Director up to the bay, so that’s something.

He’s finding it hard to concentrate, anyway. Between the shit he’s been dealing with all day and whatever drugs they’ve got pumping into his system, he only catches every few words or so, none of them really sticking well.

“... flare-up? No, he—”

“—subject’s temperature is 101.5, right at the lowest range of measure for—”

“ —infection? Take a look at his lungs, they don’t—”

“....liver function is normal, blood oxygen saturation normal, no signs of autolysis or—”

“No hemorrhaging present, apart from the frontal and ethmoid sinuses, which have already—”

“....signs of respiratory distress, inflamed trachea and upper bronchi but—”

“....markers of an acute URI. But where would he have….”

“.....notify Director Reyes.”

There it is.

22 opens his eyes, blinking against the bright lights trained upon him. His vision swims as he glances around, careful not to move anything but his eyes. He’s hooked up to several machines casting holo-readouts of his vitals. A single IV line snakes down from somewhere just out of his field of vision, pinching at the inside of his elbow. The pain in his head has dialed way down, but he feels sluggish, almost sleepy, thoughts slipping through his brain like sand through fingers.

The room is empty, the doctors and medbots all scattered through the labs and diagnostic facilities several rooms over. He is, as far as he can tell, completely alone.

He sits up slowly, bracing for the shrill wail of the alarm; but the room stays silent, apart from the whirring of the machines and the drip of the IV. So: he’s not considered a flight risk, then.

His lips twitch, the ghost of a smile gone before it fully forms. The degree of trust they have—no, she has—in him is astounding.

Well-earned, he allows himself to think, and sneezes.

This surprises him a little. Though what's more surprising, and more unwelcome, is how much it hurts.

His brain, however exhausted, however drugged-up, is a blisteringly efficient machine, and all the fragments of doctors’ whispers slot neatly up against the events of the past twenty-four hours like macabre puzzle pieces.

He’s sick.

Really, he should have figured this out by now, but the lack of sleep combined with whatever strange infection he’s picked up from some civilian somewhere yesterday has pared down his processing power to the minimum essentials, namely: keeping [] out of trouble for as long as possible.

He blinks. The mental censorship is as automatic to him as breathing, but that time was almost—

He sneezes again. Grits his teeth, lifts a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose.

He’s sick, because of fucking course he is. Briefly, a hit of undiluted rage steals his breath away. Not at 06—responsible for their little adventure though she may be (and always is), it isn’t her body committing this ultimate betrayal now.

He and the others have heard the spiel 529,117 times:

-your bodies are delicately calibrated -property of Stellaxis Innovations -immune systems severely compromised -do not leave the sublevels without clearance -under any circumstances -[this means you, Catherine] -The air filtration system here at Stellaxis Innovations has been designed bespoke for your protection, the company cannot guarantee your safety should you choose to leave the building without following precautionary protocol -if exposed to the outside environment, standard 1.5 hours of de—

Another sneeze kicks over the memory like a glitched out recording, this one accompanied by an ominous twinge from his ribs that drags his attention forcibly and reluctantly back into his body. He goes still, eyes flicking to the holoscreens, bracing for some kind of alert.

They stay silent.

He exhales, slowly.

What was that?

06’s voice in his head.

I sneezed, he thinks at her, reflexively, annoyed; then simultaneously realizes:

-his lenses are gone -she just spoke aloud.

He frowns.

“Where are you,” he says cautiously. The words rasp over his vocal cords, rendering him appallingly hoarse. 06’s shouts of laughter—turned to breathy echoes through seventy-five levels of concrete and glass and steel alloy—are the only answer he needs.

He opens his mouth, ostensibly to say something that would shut her up, but what comes out instead is a string of ragged coughs that scrape his lungs and throat all the way up.

You okay? With 06, there’s a razor-thin line between amusement at someone’s expense and concern, and he knows better than anyone the parameters of that line.

“Fine,” he grits, hands curling into fists tight enough to bruise his palms. Steadfastly ignoring the involuntary spike of panic that cough induces as well as the machines beeping at him because of it, heartrate elevated to 126 BPM, blood pressure to 140/90, blood oxygen—

I’m coming down there to get you out, she says, blandly, but he interrupts her.

“No,” he says, voice raised just enough for her to know he means it—because he can hear the Director in the hall outside the doors, and he’s running out of time.

She hears everything he doesn’t say—stay up there, I’ll handle it, stay out of it like you’ve fucking been anyway—in that single word, and does not speak again.

He takes a measured, steadying breath; and by the time the door slides open, every machine is as silent as he is.

|part 8|

#firebreak book #06/22 #fanfiction #kasey writes #consequences fic #boxcar thing #because 22 hasn't suffered enough I guess #sorry dude #it definitely gets worse from here lmaooo #next up's the Director scene if that tells you anything at all

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axvoter · 2 years

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Blatantly Partisan Party Review XXXVII (federal 2022): Socialist Equality Party

Running where: Senate grouped independents in NSW (Group F), QLD (Group I), VIC (Group Y)

Prior reviews: federal 2013, federal 2016, federal 2019

What I said before: “This is the sort of party so disagreeable, so keen to condemn anyone for stepping outside of a very narrow expression of ideology, that they could split over almost anything. Why not have a split about splitting! I do not take them seriously and I never have.”

What I think this year: The worst socialist option. I’m genuinely surprised the Socialist Equality Party (SEP) are fielding candidates, albeit as grouped independents. Back in the Group Ticket Voting days, the SEP had such contempt for electoral politics that it registered donkey votes as its tickets. But here they are anyway, stumping up the cash to get on the ballot knowing full well they won’t get the 4% first-preference vote required to have their deposit returned.

You might be wondering why they are standing as independents. The Australian Electoral Commission deregistered the SEP on 23 February 2022 after a genuinely funny sequence of events (AEC notice of decision here). Legislative amendments last year raised the party membership threshold from 500 to 1,500. Many parties met this with ease, a few merged with likeminded souls, and some simply gave up. The SEP, comically, submitted a list of 700 members, less than half of what was required, and the Australian Electoral Commission got to make surely the easiest deregistration decision of all time. What did the SEP do? Protest, of course. They pled that it was utterly unreasonable for them to be expected to sign up new members in the midst of a pandemic. Now, if this were 1922 and you needed to organise town hall meetings and stump speeches to reach potential supporters, that might be reasonable. But if you cannot find enough supporters despite you and everyone else being stuck in their homes on the Internet all the time—mate, mate, that’s on you.

You might also be waiting for me to get to the point: why is this the worst socialist option? Simply put, the SEP are the cranks of the Australian socialist space. That’s saying a lot given some of the weird units out there too. The SEP are still ranting that all other left-wing parties and trade unions, including other socialist parties, are on the “pseudo-left”. It’s tedious and childish. Just because you have minor ideological disagreements does not mean everyone else is some stooge of global capital.

The SEP also love to rant against identity politics and believe other socialist parties “represent the interests of an upper middle-class layer steeped in the divisive and regressive politics of identity based on race and ethnicity, sexuality and gender”. That’s right, these brane geniouses think that attention to—pervasive! systemic!—problems surrounding e.g. racism, sexism, and misogyny is simply “divisive and regressive”. They wouldn’t know solidarity if it bit them on the bum and they are sure as shit not intersectional. Everything else must bow to their class campaign, and only once there is a dictatorship of the proletariat dare you think about doing something about sexual harassment or racial discrimination.

Oh yeah and they’re also doing the whole thing of “covid proves everything we ever said was right; even though we weren’t talking about pandemic respiratory diseases, we told you bro!”

In the past I’ve recommended a middling preference because at least they have some core principles that leftists share, even if they won’t recognise this. I’ve bumped this down because I think their behaviour is childish and their failure to even cobble together enough members shows how poorly they engage people.

My recommendation: Give Group F (NSW), Group I (QLD), or Group Y (VIC) a weak or no preference.

Website: https://www.wsws.org/en/articles/2022/04/23/svgy-a23.html lists the candidates and https://www.wsws.org/en/articles/2022/04/13/aust-a13.html contains their election manifesto

#auspol #ausvotes #ausvotes22 #ausvotes2022 #Australian election #Australia #Election 2022 #Socialist Equality Party #SEP #Socialist Equality #socialism #socialists #weak or no preference #independent politics

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redux-iterum · 3 years

Note

You should make a side blog about your cats. I wanna see more of them ❤️

Better yet, I'll just ramble about them here! Cat gab under the cut to save you all some space.

This is Moses. Nicknames include Thug Mansion, Straight Outta Compton, Mozambique and Big Bad Mo. He is 18 pounds of pure muscle and the last of the real OGs. I have never met a cat who belongs in a gang more than him (mafia or hood, either works). He looks like this right now since he gets shaved in the summer, and no, it doesn't make him look any smaller.

Cranky old man who will only respect you if you fight back against his bullshit. He will assume power otherwise and there is nothing you can do to stop him.

I adore him. He's great.

This is Puppycat. Nicknames include Puppycat. Her original name was Kelly, but she got renamed after she developed dog-like habits (tail wagging, coming when called, and liking her belly to be rubbed). She used to be incredibly fat, as you can see here.

This fucking creature loves food. That is every facet of her personality. One of those animals that will eat until they vomit and then keep eating. She is also very dumb - beautifully dumb, really -and didn't know how to purr until she was five years old. She just wheezed happily at us.

This is Jupiter. Nicknames include Gremlin, Baby, Drive By, Jupe-Jupe and Squeakums. He is my baby boy and I adore him, and he is the biggest piece of shit. When we first got him, he was horribly ill and way undersized (size of a four week old kitten at twelve weeks of age). He had an upper respiratory infection, worms, fleas, was unable to put weight on, and was just generally sick. I've shown a picture of him before, but it bears repeating.

He got the nickname Gremlin from his appearance, and he was initially very sweet and cuddly and just wanted to be warm. Then he got better and turned into a psycho. He got another nickname, Drive By, for his fondness of running past you, smacking or biting you, and then pealing off before you could react. He loves going into our vents and biting people before disappearing into the darkness.

Fun fact on him, he's ended up stuck in our neighborhood sewers twice from exploring or busting out of the house at 2 AM. He's learned to not go in the tunnels since then, thank god.

Also I do not have a picture, but he is shaved as well and he's a toothpick. He is so little. I love him.

This is Moonshine. Nicknames include Goblin, Croakums, Squint Cat, Little Girl, and Munchin. I brought her home to be Jupiter's playmate and she got the entire house infected with ringworm. She also had a URI and a goopy left eye that is always squinted, as you can see here. So that was fun.

We had a friend for Jupiter before her, Ophelia, but she unfortunately disappeared one night and we never saw her again. It's a bit of a downer blessing, because Ophelia was not interested in playing with Jupiter at all, mostly because he's a feral vicious creature who doesn't know how to play gently. Meanwhile, Moonshine gets the dog tar beaten out of her, jumps up and charges him again. She adores wrestling with him.

Also she is a doof who likes to climb things, especially people. It's not as cute now that she's almost fully grown (and a good deal larger than Jupiter, even though he's about a year older). Her favorite thing is to leap onto you without warning and army crawl up to your shoulders and just sit there. It's more difficult to deal with in the summer, where you don't have an extra layer of clothes to protect you from her claws.

Still, she is a very charming little creature. The best part is that she overreacts like a cartoon - if something drapes across her back or startles her, she leaps three feet into the air (I'm not shitting you, three feet) and runs around in circles in terror. She also likes to eat bugs and meow like she's smoked all her little life.

Bonus Geno the dog, who hates all of my cats.

I'm sorry you have to share the attention, Geno. You're a good boy too. When you're not being a dick. Please stop picking fights with Moses. He kicks your ass every time.

#ask #readmore #pets #i speak #clapparappatherobotwhoclapsa

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onechicagorpf · 4 years

Text

Not A Stranger - Part 1

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader (Chicago Med intern)

Waking up in bed next to a random naked guy after a drunken night out usually sucks, but eh, whatever. You’ll never see him again, right? Well except this time, random naked guy turns out to be your ED Attending’s little brother, so maybe you’re a little bit screwed…

Warnings: Swearing, some suggestive details. (Part 2 is going to be full-on smut, though!)

Read Part 2 here Read Part 3 here Read Part 4 here

You open your eyes slowly, blinking away your sleepiness. Almost immediately, a dull throb starts aching away in your head, and as you bring your hand up to massage your temples you wonder why the hell you thought it’d be a good idea to get hammered on a work night.

The next time Hermann tells me to try his new tequila concoction that he’s sure won’t cause a hangover the next day, I’m going to stick a scalpel in his neck, you think to yourself.

“Fuck,” you press your palms against your eyes, trying your best to get your brain functioning. As you turn your head, you notice another figure in the bed, on his stomach facing away from you. A guy, and he’s shirtless, possibly even naked except the sheets are up to his hip. For some reason, the only things you can focus on for a whole minute are the tiny freckles dotted all across his broad shoulders. And also just his muscular broad shoulders in general, you guess.

You have a moment of peace and quiet, just laying there next to this man as the sunlight streams in through the blinds, before everything comes crashing down.

You’re supposed to be on shift today.

Why, oh why do you make such bad decisions? It’s not like you’re just a lowly intern – a first-year resident – who is just a month past med school graduation, and is barely keeping up with the rigours of being an ED doctor.

Oh wait.

You are exactly all of that!

“Fuck,” you repeat to yourself, whispering this time as the guy continues to softly snore next to you.

You decide to do the absolute mature, adult thing to do, which is to sneak out of this guy’s house unnoticed and never think about him ever again.

Okay, maybe it’s not the most mature thing, but honestly you do not have the time right now to wake him up, strike a conversation, do breakfast, and the whole nine yards. You do feel a little bad though, because when you look over, the guy seems really cute.

Dammit Y/N, focus!

First step right now is getting out of bed, sneaking out of random-cute-guy’s house, and – you look around for a clock, find one displaying 05:30 on the bedside table, shit – get to work immediately. No one tells you about how early hospital rounds begin until you’re already in med school and it’s too late to turn back, you think, as you quietly extricate yourself from the sheets and the bed.

Embarrassingly, you can’t find your underwear anywhere and after 5 minutes of searching while tip-toeing around you’re at your wit’s ends, so you just pull on your pants, put on the rest of your clothes, and leave his apartment. You thank God softly under your breath, as random-cute-guy continues to sleep through all of it, even as you slowly latch his front door closed.

A couple of minutes later, you’re in the back of an Uber, asking the driver to make a quick stop at your apartment before taking you to Med. As he drives off, you lean as far back as possible against the leather seat and sigh deeply.

“Fuck.”

***

You slip past the front desk in the ED with your head as far down as it’ll go, trying to make your way into the doctors lounge without catching anyone’s eyes considering you’re a good 15 minutes late.

“Dr Y/L/N! Thank you for deciding to grace us with your presence today!” Your ED Attending, Dr Will Halstead calls out loudly and you groan, leaning against the glass door to the lounge to open it.

“Go easy on her, last I heard from the 51 boys was that she tried Hermann’s special tequila concoction last night, and then decided to hit up a nightclub,” Maggie offers, her perfect eyebrows waggling as you hang your coat and grab your stethoscope.

“Firefighters are gossipy and if they really cared about saving lives they should’ve stopped me last night.” You grumble, swinging on your white coat. Will just shakes his head, walking in.

“Oh man, I feel like someone should’ve warned you against trying Hermann’s test drinks.” He says, and you glare at him, arms on your hips.

“Ya think?”

Maggie raises her eyebrows, laughing in surprise at your sharp response. “Is this you or the hangover speaking?” Will asks, grinning, unfazed by your grumpiness.

“Unfortunately the hangover and I are one and the same.” They laugh, and then Maggie ruffles your hair before someone comes to ask her something, and she takes her leave. Will makes a motion showing you the door and the two of you move to the ED desks.

“Alright, as your attending I need to tell you that it’s a bad idea to drink on a work night.” Will says to you as he hands you an iPad, with a patient’s charts. You start scrutinising it as he continues. “However, as a person who also used to be 20 something and an intern, I get it. Make sure you get loads of fluids in you and don’t let Lanik find out you went drinking last night.”

“Thanks,” you say, tossing a quick smile at Will before turning back to the iPad. “Okay…nasal congestion, rhinorrhea, pharyngitis and no fatigue or anorexia. Plus there’s no fever so it’s probably just an upper respiratory infection, but I can run tests to rule out the flu just in case?” You ask, and Will shrugs. “Doesn’t hurt to be careful, but given that the patient’s symptoms are all weak, the fact that she’s been here for 3 hours, and that she wants to get the hell out at this point, let’s just write her a prescription for URI meds. If she doesn’t get better in a week she can come back.” You respond in the affirmative and get to it.

You’d been clearing the general flus and colds in the waiting room for about an hour when you started hearing some shouting.

You turn to the ambulance bay entrance and see paramedics rolling in a dishevelled guy, gripping on to his bloody right arm, yelling like he was actively being run over by a bulldozer. You spot K9 unit officers behind him and roll your eyes.

“It’s not a day in a Chicago ED if we don’t get some moron who decides to outrun a police dog.” You say, and Doris laughs. The paramedics roll the patient into treatment 2, but Will’s not there.

Your eyes scan the ED and spot him still at the ambulance bay door, talking to someone you can’t see, but you notice the flash of a badge and figure he’s the arresting detective. You make your way over to Will.

“Hey, Dr Halstead? If you want I can get started on the guy first - ” You begin, but you quickly freeze when Will turns around and you make eye contact with the other guy and recognise him immediately.

Oh my god, it’s random-cute-guy! From last night! And this morning…

“Y/N, this is my brother, Detective Jay Halstead.” You smile, nodding. It’s a whole Mississippi-second before what Will’s said hits you, fully.

“Wait what?!” You exclaim, eyebrows shooting up and Will frowns.

“…I have a little brother. This is him,” He says, extremely slowly, pointing at random-cute-guy, who you just cannot make eye contact with right now. You don't say anything, and just keep blinking, stunned.

This cannot be happening right now!

Will continues. “Jay, this is Dr. Y/L/N, the ED intern. She’s new; only been here about a month.”

Jay Halstead smirks, and it’s the literal most sinful thing on this planet. “Well, it’s nice to meet you for the very first time.” He drawls, and for a moment all you can think about is the way he sounded last night, his moans, his voice in your ear, his choked off cry when he came –

Will’s got a confused look on him, and you decide that this needs to stop, right now, before it gets any worse.

“I – it – uh, so the patient in 2, I can um – he got hit by a dog. Bit by a dog, sorry.” You correct yourself, shaking your head.

Fuck! Why the – just – FUCK!

You cover your face with your hands and just laugh nervously. “Okay so,” you gesture wildly towards treatment 2 and Will continues to look on with extreme concern in his eyes, “I’m just going to go. Over there. And do my thing. Stitches and…check for rabies.”

“He’s a police dog, he doesn’t have rabies.” Jay supplies, nonchalantly leaning against the nearest wall, looking very amused by everything going on around him.

“Y/N, you okay?” Will asks, placing the back of his hand against your forehead. You wave him off. “I’m good, I’m good, just – tired, you know?” You try to smile reassuringly.

“Hermann gave her a tequila concoction at Molly’s last night and it made her decide to go clubbing on a Tuesday night,” Will joyously explains to Jay, whose eyebrows shoot up.

“Is that right? Where’d you go?” He asks, a huge shit-eating grin on his face. Like as if he doesn’t know the answer to that. Like as if he wasn’t also there, like as if the two of you didn’t meet at the bar, like as if you didn’t makeout on the dancefloor while pressed against each other, like as if you didn’t get into a cab and – well. Like as if.

“The Verge.” You mutter, looking down and praying for the ground to open up and swallow you whole.

“Hey, I was there last night too!” Jay replies and you look up, see the sparkle in his green eyes and his beaming smile and you want to reach across Will and strangle him.

“Too bad I didn’t see you. At all.” You scowl, and thankfully Doris calls you and Will over to 2.

You walk in to find the patient thrashing around while the nurses are trying their best to keep him down.

“Alright let’s get restraints on him.” Will instructs, and you move to the patient’s right, trying to grab his arm. He swings at you and nearly connects with your temple; thankfully you dodge it at the last second.

“Hey, watch it!” Will shouts, and the patient starts screaming incoherently.

“Can we get some help in here?!” Doris calls out, and the patrol officers who brought the patient step in, but there’s just too much going on and stuff flying around the room that no one can get a hold of the situation.

Everyone starts talking about what they think needs to be done, whether to restrain him or sedate him or do something else entirely, but all you can focus on is the way the patient’s right arm is swinging around while his left arm is barely raising above the gurney rail. Something in your gut gives you a bad feeling as your eyes traverse up to his face and you see it – his mouth is drooping on his left side.

“He’s stroking…” Nobody pays any attention to you, partly because your voice is a low whisper. What if you’re wrong? The last thing you want to do is be the idiot intern who screamed stroke protocol just because some drunk, incoherent ran-from-a-police-dog idiot was being, well, drunk and incoherent!

The patient’s left arm sags completely, and he leans back against the pillow. Fuck it.

“He’s stroking!” You repeat, your loud voice catching even you by surprise. Everyone stops talking and whips around to face you.

“Are you su – ” Will starts, but you cut him off, quickly rattling off stroke protocol instructions.

“Get me an IV and page the stroke unit now!” Everyone snaps into work quickly, like a well-oiled machine. Someone shoves an IV pack in your hand and you immediately get a line started while Doris performs a blood draw. Will’s on the phone with Neuro, and before you know it your patient is getting wheeled away up to CT.

“Do I – uh, do I come with?” You ask, almost breathless from all the adrenaline. Will shakes his head. “I’ll go for the CT, and then pass it off to the stroke unit and neuro. You stay down here and take a breather.” He calls over his shoulder, and then disappears around a turn, but not before –

“That was a good call, Y/N.”

You nod, biting your lips. God, I hope it was. If I was too late –

“Okay, okay.” You say to no one in particular, trying to clear your head. In fact, you’re standing in a very empty treatment room right now, still breathing heavy.

“So you’re not just bossy in bed, huh?”

You groan out loud, dropping your face in your hands, before swinging around to face a very cheeky detective.

“Is this how you flirt?” Your hands are on your hips and your voice is low because the last thing you want is anyone finding out about last night. “Hmm? Is this what gets girls into your bed? Because honestly if this is all you’ve got then you gotta go work on your game, dude.”

Jay scoffs. “What, like this isn’t working?” He lifts a finger to signal you to pause as he continues. “And for the record, I don’t have to try and get you into my bed considering we’ve been there and done that.” He crosses his arms – god, his biceps are huge – and smirks at you.

You stare at him for a moment, in silence, your cheeks burning.

He raises his eyebrows.

You surge forward and grab his arm, yanking him out of the room and dragging him unceremoniously, but still without attracting attention, into the doctors’ lounge. Placing your hands on his chest, you shove him as far into the lounge as you can.

“Jesus – okay, I mean, I’d prefer a room without glass doors for sex but - ”

You’re pretty sure you’re turning bright red.

“We’re NOT having sex right now! In fact, we’re NEVER having sex again, okay?!” You exclaim while still sort of whispering, and Jay just frowns. “Here’s the deal – ” you continue, trying to ignore how close the two of you are, “Your brother? Is my boss. So yeah, last night was a mistake.”

“Sure,” Jay says, shrugging. You’re a little surprised (and honestly, slightly disappointed he’s given in so easily), except he then leans in and you suck in a sharp breath. In a low voice, he adds, “But we should probably do it again just to make sure, yeah?”

Your heart’s hammering in your chest, and your lips part. His soft lips, slightly pink, are all you can focus on, right up until you see them curl as he bites his lip, and his tongue runs over them, and you think your brain is completely short-circuiting.

You lick your lips. “We, uh, we – .” You can barely even hear your own voice, and Jay just shakes his head. “We what?” He asks, and you’re stunned that he’s somehow got his bearings about him – you’re stunned that he’s not completely ruined the way you are right now. But then you notice you can see his pupils dilating, that he’s holding his breath, that his eyes are fixed on you like you’re some kind of an addictive substance and you know he wants you so fucking bad. Last night’s got him hooked. On you.

Your head is hazy, and without thinking about it – or thinking about anything at all – you lean in, and so does Jay, and the gap between the two of you is shrinking rapidly and your heart’s going haywire and your inner thigh is throbbing and you can hear him shift and –

“Y/N!”

You snap back, stunned. Jay straightens immediately, head tilting back towards the ceiling, eyes closed as he takes a deep breath.

Natalie’s entering the doctors’ lounge, and thankfully she’s looking down at her phone as she does. A quick scan through the glass doors of the ED tells you that no one’s noticed your little…moment with Jay, far in the back of the lounge.

“Uh, y – yes, Dr Manning?” Is that your voice? God, you’re stuttering!

Natalie looks up. “Wards just paged about the peds patient we saw yesterday – her new set of labs came back and we need to go over them with the family. I’ll be up in 5 minutes, so I’ll see you then?”

“Y – yeah, I’ll be there. Thanks Dr Manning.” Natalie smiles at you, before turning to Jay.

“What’s got you hanging in the ED?”

“Uh, some unfinished business.” Jay replies smoothly and you press your lips together. Natalie and Jay make small talk before she leaves.

You lean against the far wall of the lounge, trying to hide as best as you can. It doesn’t escape your notice that Jay is watching you like a hawk, that he takes a couple of steps towards you.

Massaging your temples, you just sigh at this enormous clusterfuck of a situation. “Fuck me,” you groan.

You look up in time to see something in Jay’s eyes go dark.

Oh.

He steps close enough that your back straightens against the wall, and your heart starts pounding in your chest again. Jay stares at you, his green eyes piercing, and gently tucks a loose strand of hair back behind your ear. The feel of his rough fingertips against your cheek, your ear, is enough to make you feel like you’re vibrating, and you cross your legs subconsciously.

“What…do you think I’m trying to do, hm?” Jay asks, whispering.

You swallow hard.

Jay’s lips curve into a salacious smile and he steps back.

“You let me know if you ever change your mind, Dr Y/L/N.” There’s still a hint of amusement tugging at the corners of his lips, but you can tell he means it. That he wants it. You.

He turns around and takes a few steps, but stops and comes back to you.

“Oh, yeah, I almost forgot. You left something at my place.” Jay’s hands reach into his back pocket and pull out…a lacy, black pair of panties. Your cheeks burn, and you snatch it out of his hands quickly, shoving it deep into your back pocket. Jay just laughs, but his face is a little red too.

You watch him as he leaves, smacking the top of the sliding glass door as he exits the doctors’ lounge.

You sag against the nearest wall.

“Okay…fuck.”

***

The rest of the day drags on in a slow, painful stretch. Or maybe it just feels that way to you, because you try so hard to keep your mind off of Jay, of what you did last night, of what he did to you this morning, but you just can’t. You’re typing up your charts and you can’t stop thinking about the way his lips felt on yours. You’re having lunch and you swear if you close your eyes, you can just feel his fingers skating over your body. You’re waiting for lab reports at radiology and you keep remembering what it felt like when you were about to kiss in the lounge.

Thankfully, the rest of your day at Med is entirely unaffected. Well, almost entirely. Will keeps shooting furtive glances at you when he thinks you’re not looking, but you’re pretty sure he thinks it’s because of the stroke patient – who you now know as Toby Wilkerson – and not Jay.

“Alright, I’m done for the day, I’ll see you guys tomorrow,” Will announces to the ED, and there’s a chorus of goodbyes. He turns to you. “Oh, Dr Y/L/N – last I heard from Neuro was that Toby Wilkerson’s looking good. tPA seems to have done the trick.” Will informs you, and you smile, thanking him.

“Yeah, strokes can be extremely time-sensitive, so you did good there, okay? Don’t let the what-ifs stress you out. Go home and relax.” Will says, patting you on the shoulder before leaving.

Taking Will’s advice, you quickly finish up your reports and drive home. Chucking your keys on your coffee table, you head straight for your shower. Once you’re clean and changed, you lay down on your couch, interlocking your fingers behind your head, and take a deep breath.

Your mind is relaxed and at peace for all of 2 seconds before you start thinking about Jay again.

“Why. Why, oh why can I not get him out of my mind?” You whine out loud, and you get a mewling response from somewhere under the couch. Turning your head, you see your ginger cat exit his spot and jump onto your stomach, settling himself in.

“Tubbs, tell me I can’t go see him again.”

Tubbs emits a questioning meow.

“His brother is my attending, Tubbs! My boss and my colleague and my friend! If I start having relations with his little brother, then he can’t just see me as his student anymore. And if he ever does anything good for me, someone’s just going to assume that it’s because I’m screwing his brother. So – I just – I can’t see Jay again, I can’t have sex with him again, I just can’t. I’ve got to call it. I’m right, right?”

There’s just silence, and you look down at Tubbs. Who is busy licking his paw.

You roll your eyes, leaning back. “You know what, it doesn’t even matter. I can totally find another hot dude to bang. And Jay’s not even that hot, honestly.”

Tubbs meows and jumps down. He walks away.

“Okay fine, I guess he’s a little hot. It’s his eyes, I swear, they’re so – so fucking green. And pretty. But when he gets turned on they just lose all the light in them, and he turns into this – this man. Like he knows exactly what he wants from me and he’s going to get it. And his arms are huge, and when he’s holding you it’s like – ugh. And his lips – he – he just – he just knows – I.” You shake your head.

“I can’t – nope – I can’t sleep with him. It’s wrong. It’s bad and it’s wrong and I shouldn’t do it and I won’t.” You announce to your apartment.

There’s a moment of silence, before –

“Fuck.” You’re up, you grab your keys, your phone, and you’re out the door.

#jay halstead imagine #jay halstead x reader #jay halstead smut #chicago pd imagine #chicago pd smut #cpd smut #cpd imagine #onechicago imagine #will halstead imagine #jay halstead #will halstead #chicago med imagine

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