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25centsoda · 3 years

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Star Wars Fanfic - Wisdom Teeth

I just got my wisdom teeth out the other day...you know what that means! Luke too!

I just wrote this in one sitting and there is very minimal editing. If I ever feel like cleaning this up I’ll throw it on AO3 (and possibly make it longer, possibly leave it as-is).

The world filtered up slowly, rising from the smoke of dreams. The first thing Luke was aware of was that there was a blanket on his chest. It was warm, and soft. The room faded into view.

His tired mind dimly registered the fact that the blanket was blue, and the walls were off-white. The lights confused him. They shone blindingly, obscuring much of the space. Between the two of them, the only other thing he could make out were the empty chairs beside him.

Luke drifted.

The world was quiet, as if buried beneath sand. There might have been a memory of being supported on each side as he was led down a hallway, but that could have easily been a dream; the memory was shadowy and indistinct.

He moved his hand slightly. Yes, the blanket was soft.

Words filtered into his consciousness. Murmurs, far away and nonsensical. He couldn’t summon the will or strength to focus on them.

Through the Force, a spike of emotion.

It was quickly washed away by his exhaustion, and Luke’s eyes fluttered closed. His mouth hung open slightly. Something held it open. What was it? Why was it there?

He forced his eyes open again and squinted at the room, trying to bring it into focus.

Medbay, his mind finally supplied. Now he could tell that he was seeing double. Closing one eye or the other turned the two chairs into one. He entertained himself with looking at each part of the curtained-off room in turn. The small table on his other side. The curtain rod. His own covered legs.

A commotion outside in the hall filtered into his awareness. Luke made a small questioning noise he wasn’t sure even left his throat and turned his head slightly towards the sound.

It sounded almost like...blaster shots?

Behind the curtain, a door hissed open. Cold followed like a shadow. Luke closed his eyes against the chill, grateful for the blanket. Loud, rhythmic breathing grated against his ears. He peered up through his eyelashes.

Vader.

Father.

Was this another dream? Luke’s eyes melted closed again.

He was on the verge of falling asleep once more when the sound of flimsy being shifted pulled him back towards consciousness again. He was almost tempted to wave the sound away, annoyed, but his limbs felt like lead. It wasn’t worth the effort. Amusement washed gently over him in the Force.

The flimsy was folded and shifted against something, then the noise stopped. Something carefully stroked his hand through the blanket.

“Come, young one. It is time to go home.”

Luke managed something between a hum and a groan. That amusement came again, along with an undercurrent of love. He peeled open his eyes and squinted up at his father’s insectoid mask.

Vader helped him sit up while Luke stared at him. His mind spun slowly. His father couldn’t really be here, right? The last thing he remembered...the last thing he remembered…

That shadowy image of being helped across a hallway resurfaced. He pushed it away. Before that, there was…

The surgery!

The Empire had been quiet for long enough that the Alliance decided to take the opportunity to get its soldiers and staff medical care while they could afford both the time and expense. Luke had been brought in to get several teeth removed that had grown in sideways. Leia was supposed to be with him when he woke up.

Where was she?

Luke was pulled to his feet and he stumbled, knees weak beneath him. His head rocked with vertigo. Without thinking, he clung to the arm supporting him.

Where was Leia? She was supposed to be here…

He barely noticed the hallways passing under his feet, focus taken up by the effort of staying upright and trying to figure out where Leia could be.

Maybe...maybe he was hallucinating, and what he thought was his father was actually just Leia.

Luke made a noise that was meant to be “Leia?” but all that came out was nonsense. He furrowed his brow when he realized he couldn’t feel his tongue. Or most of his mouth, really.

The person leading him didn’t respond.

Something was wrong.

“Nng,” he managed, tugging his arm away from their grip. They held on tighter as he stumbled, keeping him upright.

“Hush, young one. You’re safe.” A feeling of security washed through him with those words, overpowering the panic that had begun to rise through the fog of sedation. He leaned on their arm for support. “There. We’re nearly to my ship, then you can rest some more.”

Their boots clanged on a ramp. Luke’s socked feet didn’t make a sound.

The next thing he knew, he was being buckled into a seat. In front of him, a viewport showed the mountains of the planet the Rebels had made their latest base on.

The ship vibrated as it took off, and Luke fell back asleep.

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

Vader marveled at the boy sleeping next to him. At long last; his son. He had been most fortunate in finding the boy and his rebellion in such a state. It had been laughably easy to invade the base and take Luke. The Rebels had grown complacent.

As he piloted the shuttle back to the Executor, he puzzled over the sheet of flimsy that had been tied to the end of his son’s medical bed. “Wisdom tooth extraction”, it had read, along with instructions for care once the boy was released from the medbay.

Vader had heard of such a thing - Obi-Wan had told Anakin Skywalker of his own experience with the procedure, but Skywalker never had a need for it. Evidently Vader’s son did. Incompetent as they were, the Rebellion did not waste money and soldiers on unnecessary medical procedures.

Glancing at Luke again, Vader wondered if perhaps he should have paid closer attention to the sheet before leaving with his son. The boy may need supplies the Executor did not have; the surgery was most often performed on humans younger than the majority of his officers, and Star Destroyers were not equipped for most non-injurious surgeries.

No matter. If anything needed to be acquired, he would get it.

First, he had to get his son to the rooms he had prepared.

Although they would evidently need slight modifications as the boy was recovering from surgery…

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

When Luke woke again, he was once more covered in a blanket. This time, however, he was also propped up by many pillows on all sides, and there were ice packs on both cheeks.

Where was he?

At his confused hum, his father reappeared beside him. Luke’s eyes widened.

Oh. So it hadn’t been a hallucination, then. His father actually...just kidnapped him out of the medbay.

Kriff.

“Father,” he tried, but he still couldn’t feel his mouth. He huffed in frustration, then winced when doing so pulled at his sore jaw. He mimed writing on his hand, looking at his father through narrowed eyes and hoping that conveyed his frustration.

Vader handed him a datapad and pen.

Luke held the pen above the datapad for a minute, trying to decide what to say. He eventually settled on, What did you do?

“You had a surgery, young one,” Vader said. Before he could finish, Luke started writing again. “I did nothing to you.”

I know I had surgery. Where did you take me? What about the base?

“You are on my flagship, the Executor. The Rebel base was taken by the Empire, although I believe the Princess and Wookie escaped, if you are worried about them.”

No dark side.

Vader inclined his head. “You are in no state to begin your training, I agree. However, there are other things you should be aware of in the meantime. For example, the sheet your medic left indicates that the gauze in your mouth should be changed every 30 minutes, the ice should remain as much as possible without causing damage, and you are not to have solid foods for the next several days.”

Luke looked up at the ceiling in lieu of throwing his head back. Kriff. He thought it would be bad to go through this back on base with his friends; to do it stuck with the Empire? With his father? The man had chopped off his hand during their last meeting; Luke had since come to terms with both the news and the prosthetic, but that didn’t mean he trusted his father with his health.

He cleared the screen and wrote again. I want to see a medic.

“They will not tell you anything different, Luke.”

He underlined the sentence and gave his father a pointed look with as much vitriol as he could muster.

Vader sighed, an odd, staticky sound. “Very well. I will call for him.”

Luke watched with interest as his father picked up a slim remote from a small table next to the bed Luke was propped up in, and pressed a button. A small buzz sounded. Moments later, the door hissed open and a man in a medic’s uniform stepped through, clipboard in hand. He bowed, and approached.

“Commander Skywalker, Medic Kix at your service,” the man said. “What can I do for you?”

Luke reset the screen and wrote, then held up the datapad.

What will my recovery look like? How long will it take?

Kix nodded and said, “This first day, there’s going to be a lot of blood. It should clot by the end of today and over the next few days there should be some swelling. The ice will help keep that down. You’ll need to change the gauze every thirty minutes to help the blood clot and keep you from swallowing too much of it. Take it easy for the next few days; no strenuous exercise. Liquid foods only for today, then tomorrow you can start moving on to soft foods like pudding. We’ll talk more about the day after when we get there. You should be fully healed in two to three weeks, assuming all goes well.”

Two to three weeks??

“Yes sir. As you were not treated by one of our medics, I’m unsure how well the surgery was performed, but rest assured we will do everything we can to ensure your healing is as fast and comfortable as possible. Any other questions?”

Kix waited patiently as Luke wrote.

Can I change my own gauze?

He did not want his father to try to interfere more than strictly necessary.

The medic hesitated. “...Yes, but I would advise that you have somebody help you. If you’d like, I can assign you a medic for the next few days.”

“I can--” Vader started, but Luke interrupted him by holding up the datapad.

Yes, I would like a medic. The writing was rushed - his father could speak faster than Luke could write - but it was legible enough. Thankfully Kix took Luke’s side.

“Very well sir. I will send somebody to assist you.” With that, the medic left.

His father turned back to him. “Would you like access to the holonet, young one? It will be restricted, of course - you wouldn’t be able to contact any Rebels - but you would be able to watch videos.”

Kriff, he really was stuck here with his father for at least the next two weeks, wasn’t he? Couldn’t even eat real food.

He was already exhausted of it all.

Yes, Luke wrote. He handed the datapad to Vader.

At least he’d have plenty of time to hack into the datapad and find a way to contact his friends.

----------

Luke’s mouth finally stopped bleeding by the end of the day. He was so grateful to be rid of the gauze in his mouth that he almost didn’t mind the fact that his father had stayed after the medic left.

He tipped his head back and carefully drank some water, reveling in the fact that he could close his mouth almost all the way now. It was still partially numb, but most of the feeling was back and there was nothing holding it open anymore. He set the cup back down next to the pill bottles on the bedside table, then looked between his father next to the bed and the datapad on the blankets.

He’d wasted the day dozing and watching as many pod, speeder, and spaceship races as he could find, but Vader had stayed away for most of it, only seeming to come in as Luke was falling asleep. What...was he supposed to do now that the man seemed determined to stay?

He stared at his father for a long moment. Vader stared back.

Slowly, as if his father was a watching krayt, he grabbed the datapad and turned the latest speeder race back on, sinking into the fresh ice packs and pillows.

They watched it together, side by side.

#star wars #fanfic #fanfiction #luke skywalker #darth vader #wisdom teeth #lmao yes they are having some very awkward father-son bonding time now #idk entirely what this is I have just been trapped on the couch for two days and my friends finally got me to write a Luke wisdom teeth fic #enjoy!

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artificialqueens · 4 years

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The Wisdom Tooth One (Biadore) - Whiskey Neat

A/N: Saw a request for this a while back and finally decided to write it. This probably isn’t medically accurate at all but I hope y'all enjoy it anyways!

TW for mentions of blood

Summary: Adore gets her wisdom teeth pulled and Bianca has to deal with her dramatic ass.

Bianca could not believe she had gotten convinced to come pick Adore up from her wisdom tooth surgery. “Absolutely the fuck not” had been her first answer, knowing that her lack of patience would not stand well in a situation where Adore’s whining and bitching would be at an all time high. But after much pouting and pleading from Adore, she finally agreed, hoping it would shut the younger queen up.

It worked for the time leading up to this moment, but now here she was, sitting in the waiting room, regretting her decision as she waited for the nurse to call her back to collect Adore’s drugged up self.

Eventually, the nurse came and told her that Adore was almost ready to go home and that she could see her now. Setting down the magazine she had been reading, Bianca followed the woman down the hallway to a small room.

In the room sat a very loopy Adore, with a mouthful of bloody gauze, and drool running down her chin.

“Hey queen” Bianca said, approaching Adore.

“Yanx!” She tried to enunciate, but it came out sounding more like a muffled blur. “Woah what the fuck” she spoke again, still muffled but more understandable.

The nurse quickly removed the gauze from her mouth and began preparing clean gauze to replace it with.

Bianca took this short time to grasp Adore’s hand and ask “how did it go?”

“Wha?” Adore’s brows furrowed as she blinked slowly and looked around the room, confused. “I don’t think I know where I am” she slurred, squinting at Bianca.

“You’re at the dentist, remember? You just got your wisdom teeth removed” Bianca explained.

“They…they took my…teeth?!” Adore asked, hands flying up to her mouth and looking even more confused, mixed with a bit of panic.

“Not all-“

“You fucking liar! I still have teeth!” Adore interrupted, crossing her arms and giving Bianca as much of a sly smile as her numb face would allow.

Before Bianca could even roll her eyes, the nurse returned and began sticking more gauze into Adore’s mouth while she squirmed and whined. “These are going to bleed for a while, so make sure you’re replacing the gauze before it gets too soaked” she explained, more to Bianca than Adore.

“I-I’m….bleeding?” Adore questioned, poking one finger into her mouth and pulling it back out, eyes widening when she saw that the tip of her finger was covered in red liquid. “What the FUCK!?” She exclaimed so loudly that the people across the hall probably heard it.

“Shhh it’s normal, okay? Try not to talk or touch your mouth too much” Bianca told her, stroking the back of her other hand with her thumb.

Adore made a displeased whimpering noise but kept her hands in her lap nonetheless.

The nurse then explained to Bianca what she needed to do to care for Adore over the next few days and finally they were free to go.

They wheeled Adore out to the car, (getting her into the car was a whole different ordeal but we won’t get into that), and the ride home was pretty uneventful considering that Adore had fallen asleep about 2 minutes into the drive.

45 minutes later they arrived back at the apartment. The younger queen was still dead asleep when Bianca put the car in park and shut off the engine. Bianca considered just leaving her in the car so she wouldn’t have to deal with her, but her conscience told her that wasn’t the right thing to do.

Bianca walked around to the passenger door, opened it, and gently began shaking Adore’s shoulder.

“Mmmm” Adore groaned, not wanting to be awoken from her slumber.

“We’re home, Pussyface” Bianca told her, unbuckling her seat belt.

“Oh…why’s my face fat?” Adore questioned, cupping her own cheeks.

“It’s swollen from your surgery. We can ice it when we get inside.”

“I don’t wanna…B, it hurts” Adore whined. The nap had cleared her head a bit so now the pain was beginning to register.

“The ice will help, and you can take some pain killers too. Then we need to change your gauze.” Bianca explained. “Now can you please let me help you get out of the car?”

Surprisingly, Adore complied. She lazily slid her body around so her legs were out the door and allowed Bianca to wrap an arm around her waist to keep her steady. Together they walked into the apartment.

Bianca got the younger queen settled on the couch with a pillow and a blanket and handed her the remote so she could choose something to watch on Netflix. She hoped that keeping her busy would keep the whining at a minimum. After promising she’d be right back with some ice and some fresh gauze, Bianca kissed the top of Adore’s head and walked into the kitchen.

She returned minutes later with said items in hand. Adore was leaning heavily against the side of the couch, eyelids drooping.

“Hey, don’t fall asleep yet. We have to change your gauze and get some ice on that face.”

“Uh-uh.” Adore mumbled, shying away when Bianca reached out to touch her.

“You wanna bleed everywhere? Fine. Not my problem.” Bianca said, quickly growing irritated. She knew the stubbornness was about to come out in full force. Adore was never very cooperative when it came to doing what was good for her.

The two just stared at one another for a minute or so, until Adore finally sat up a bit, deciding that she didn’t like the gross feeling of wet gauze in her mouth.

She allowed Bianca to remove it from her mouth, staring up at the ceiling to try to calm her anxiety after seeing how red it was. She had never been a big fan of blood. Seeing how much had come from her own mouth was enough to make her heart race and her eyes get teary.

When replacing the gauze, Bianca hit a particularly painful spot and Adore reflexively clamped her mouth shut, earning a yelp from the older queen.

“Did you just fucking bite me?!” Bianca exclaimed, pulling her hand back.

“Uhhh…”

“I can’t believe you, queen” Bianca said, rolling her eyes.

“You hurt me!” Adore argued past the fresh gauze that filled her cheeks.

“Oh you’re fine…now ice your face bitch. I’ll go get your meds” Bianca told her, handing her the ice packs that she had wrapped in a towel.

“No, ‘m gonna sleep now.” Adore insisted, pushing the ice packs onto the floor and curling up under the blanket.

“Adore, you have to ice your face so the swelling can go down.”

“But I don’t wanna.”

“But you need to.”

“I don’t care” Adore said, rolling over to face away from Bianca.

“Ado- Danny, all you have to do is hold ice against your face for 20 fucking minutes. It’s not that hard.”

Adore stayed silent.

“Okay, well if you’re gonna act like a child then you can take care of yourself. I’m leaving.” Bianca told her, standing up and walking towards the door.

Before exiting, she paused and gave one last glare at the back of Adore’s head. She stood there for a few moments, giving the younger queen one more chance to change her mind. When Adore didn’t move, Bianca muttered a quiet “wow” before walking out the door.

—

Adore awoke a few hours later confused and disoriented, not even remembering falling asleep. Her jaw hurt unbelievably bad now and her cheeks felt huge. She whimpered and teared up a little, rolling over to face an empty room.

“Wasn’t Bianca supposed to be here?” She wondered. Spotting the ice packs on the floor brought back the memories from before her nap.

“Fuck, I really made her leave…” Adore thought sadly, tears blurring her vision. All she wanted right now was her Willow to hold her and take care of her…and to bring her those pain meds she was supposed to take earlier cause goddamnit she needed them.

Grabbing her phone off the coffee table, she sent a quick text to Bianca simply reading, “I’m sorry. Please come back :(“

After getting no response, she trudged to the bathroom in search of pain killers. She found them on the counter, alongside another bottle of antibiotics she was supposed to take.

After pulling out the nasty gauze that was still in her mouth, Adore downed the pills with as much water as she could manage to swallow, although most of it ended up dribbling down her chin since her face was still half numb.

“Fuck my life” she thought, finally looking at herself in the mirror. Her face had never been so swollen. She closely resembled a chipmunk after it had stuffed its cheeks with food. Maybe Bianca had been right about needing that ice…

Sighing, she shut off the light and headed back to the living room and settled back on the couch, but not before picking up the ice packs (which were surprisingly still frozen) off the floor.

She gingerly pressed them against each side of her face, shuttering when they made contact with the sore skin. “Bianca better be fucking proud of me” she grumbled.

The 20 minutes past surprisingly quickly while watching her favorite episode of South Park. She then discarded the ice onto the coffee table and closed her eyes yet again, hoping to sleep off the sudden nausea that seemed to have formed out of nowhere.

Not long after, she awoke feeling even worse. But this time she sensed a presence in the room. Opening her eyes halfway, she found Bianca looking at her.

“How are you holding up?” Bianca asked, the anger from earlier seemingly forgotten.

“I feel sick” Adore told her miserably. “Dunno what happened…”

Bianca thought for a moment. “Did you take your meds?”

“Yeah, like an hour ago.“

“What did you eat with them?”

“Nothing?“

“Pussyface, you’re supposed take them with food…otherwise they can make you sick.”

“How was I supposed to know?”

“It says it right on the bottle, you asshole.”

“Well! My face fucking hurt and I could barely even drink water without dying and I just-“ Adore ranted, quickly growing frustrated with the whole situation.

“Hey, I was just giving you a hard time. I’m not blaming you.”

“I know…I just feel like shit and you’re not helping…”

“I’ll go find you something to eat, okay?”

Adore silently nodded, turning her attention back to the TV to distract herself from the awful feeling in her stomach.

Bianca returned moments later with a small bowl of blue jello. “Here, eat this before you vomit.”

Adore sat up slowly, taking the bowl from Bianca’s hands. It took her a good minute of just staring at the jello and trying to figure out how the fuck she was going to chew it before she attempted to actually eat some. (Do you even chew jello? Idfk)

First, she tried putting a spoonful in her mouth but it ended up falling right back down into her lap. Bianca stifled a laugh, earning a glare from Adore and a drawn out “this is haaaard.”

After the first failed attempt, she tried again with less on the spoon. Tilting her head all the way back, she dropped the jiggly blue substance into her mouth. Her head quickly returned to normal level after almost choking, which earned yet another laugh from Bianca.

Adore gave her the middle finger as she carefully moved the jello around her in mouth with her tongue before gulping it down and repeating the action until the bowl was empty.

“That was the most entertaining thing I’ve seen all week!” Bianca exclaimed, wiping tears from the corners of her eyes.

“I fucking hate you” Adore replied, handing the empty bowl to Bianca and laying back down.

“Most people do!” Bianca shouted over her shoulder as she went to put the bowl away.

When she returned, she found Adore resting against the arm of the couch. “Sit up for a second” she urged.

Adore did as she was told and Bianca sat down in the place she had been laying so the younger queen could lean against her.

“Do you feel any better?” Bianca asked after Adore had cuddled into her side, head resting on the older queens chest.

“Mhmmm” Adore confirmed, pulling the blanket up around herself. They sat in silence for a few moments before Adore spoke up again.

“Fuck”

“What?”

“Gotta ice” she whined, weakly reaching for the ice packs she’d left on the coffee table earlier.

Bianca reached past her and grabbed said objects, handing them to her.

Adore pressed them gently against her swollen cheeks and leaned back against Bianca. They sat like that for a short while, turning their full attention to the TV where South Park was still playing.

Soon, Bianca noticed Adore’s breathing getting heavier and the ice packs slowly slipping from her grasp. As if on cue, the one in her right hand fell down into her lap, startling the younger queen awake.

She looked down and let out a tired sigh, realizing what had happened. Bianca picked up the ice pack and gently placed it back against Adore’s cheek, also replacing Adore’s hand with her own on the opposite side of her face.

“It’s okay, you can sleep. I can hold them” Bianca told her.

“M’kay…thanks B” Adore muttered, before closing her eyes again and drifting off to sleep for the evening.

#rpdr fanfiction #adore delano #bianca del rio #biadore #fluff #hurt/comfort #whiskey neat #submission #canon compliant

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joyofbebbanburg · 4 years

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Wrote this for @amofbebbanburg

My amazing sister. Now it's not spell checked or anything I am actually recovering from wisdom teeth removal so super tired, alot of pain and falling asleep alot so bare with all my mistakes and fuck ups

Love you girly.

Also I do not own any pics or video.

*************

You were an actress for the hit show Vikings.

You got act along some some great people but theres one man in particular you enjoy working with..in fact you play his love intrest. You bare his children in the show and everything.... Alexander Ludwig.

You were madly in love with him and it seemed as if he loved u back that even the fans picked up on this during interviews or just when you both are out together or posting about eachother

Some where super sweet but others...were not.

Some wanted Alex with someone better in their eyes and some loved you guys.

You and Alex had basically became a couple but with no label

You knew for a fact he was not seeing ot talking to anyone, and he knew the same was true for you.

But fans decided to break you guys apart. They had no idea that you and him didnt have a label.

Some fans made fake edits that looked real but if you looked close enough you could see it was edited or they used old pictures and edit those to make it look up to date.

They posted them everywhere after you latest interview with Alex. (Think of the video of travis placing his hand on the glass looking like hes grabbing Kate's butt )

Alex had put his hand on the glass so fans blew saw it looked like he was touching your butt. You caught him and laughed while playfully pushing him and he pulls you close and kissed your head but kept you in his arms.

This is what pissed some fans off and the pictures where released

You and Alex had just finished an interview where they asked if you guys were a couple and you both smiled and just said

"We have alot of fun with eachother. Shes my best friend and I can share the world with her." Alex said

"And I feel the same hes my best friend and I share everything. My whole world with him. So take that as u may" u had smiled

After the interview you and Alex went out for lunch and then back to his hotel room to relax a while.

You both ended up in a heavy make out like normal...you just wish you knew what you and him were.

But you were not turning down a make out or anything more from him.

You guys did feel like a couple so maybe you were but no label. Maybe he assumed you both where together alrrady.

He eventually got up to take a shower and you scrolled thru Instagram.

That's when u saw the pictures

"Omg Am Is not who Alexander needs. He knows it too because he was caught kissing this beautiful woman and it's not Am" a fan shared some edited pics. Then u saw the video

https://youtu.be/4LRtL3x6HhU

You jaw and heart dropped.

It looked so real.

What if u assumed wrong..what if he only saw you as a fuck. What if you were nothing more than someone to be with until he could see this woman again....

Your eyes watered

You quickly wiped them away though. You guys never had a label so you can't be upset but you can stop this before you get hurt worse.

Alex steps out the bathroom after his shower and he drys off but stays naked.

"Hey actually I need to head back to my room. I'm just not feeling well and I dont wanna get you sick " you lie and stand up grabbing ur bag

"Hold up let me walk you" he says jumping up and throwing on pants a shirt.

"No it's okay Alex you dont have too. I can get myself there. No worries. Really don't wanna get you sick hun especially if ur gonna wanna see ur other girl after this press tour ends tomorrow. You dont need to be sick." U fake a smile and get out of his room fast an lock yourself away in your own room.

Alex stood there shocked. You said he had another girl....but he didnt. He only had you. He only loved you. No one else but you.

He sat on his bed and scrolled thru insta when he also saw this pictures and captions..he knew u had seen this but these where clearly fake. Because in these pics be does have his tattoo on hid arm and he has a new on that no one has seen b4 and hed use that to prove to you he loves you

He called you but u never picked up. He text you and you replied one time.

"Alex look I think you should finally commit3to your girl. Honesty if I knew you were seeing someone...I wouldnt have been with you. But I was and I fell for you and I need space know so we can be friends again later...but just friends...I wont the the whore everyone thinks I am by being with you. Because that's not the person I am. I had a great time with u Alex but I'm the one who ended up burned...goodbye " you sent to him and blocked his number and sobbed

Alex couldnt text you or call and he was panicking. He knocked on your door but u ignored it.

You refused to see him unless work related.

"Am it's not real....its just you...always has been and you'll see I'm telling the truth. He says and you hear him walk back to his and You sighed.

Alex placed back and forth until he made a choice

He went live and waited for enough followers..mainly you.

You joined but only for a bjt.

Enough to hear him rip a new one on the fans who did the edits

"I know the people who made the ed ih ts are here and in want to say. You guys are sick. Trying to ruin peoples lives just because you dont like a person you dont even know!

She was my girl...and I had the perfect woman..but because some fans hated that ymthey had to ruin things...I was going to show her tonight something special..it would have made us official but...we couldnt because sof you people who made the edits...Amqnda baby I know you watching ..please just look. " he says and he lifts his shir my his bicep (the other one)

Ut was your name in runes and u teared up.

" it's always been you...so come here babygirl " he says and ubbo ln red to his room and knocked.

He turned off his live and opened the door

"Alex .....you..love me?" U ask and he chuckles

"Yes baby. Only you..now come back I cant sleep without my woman next to me" he says.

"ur woman?" U asked

"Yes ur my woman now " he smiles and yall share a sweet kiss.

"I love you..only you" he says and brings u in to have a sweet passionate kiss.

You weren't sure how things would go in the future but right know its looking pretty damn great. Your happy where your at for now.

#alexander ludwig #vikings

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stretchjournalemerson · 3 years

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Pain Management

By Maura Grace Cowan

For decades, I have been told, Mema’s fingers smelled of nicotine, trailing the scent of a pack a day and a love that ate away at my grandfather until it swallowed him whole just five months after I was born. After that, an already vicious candy habit became a lifelong method of staying cigarette-free. She said that it kept her mouth busy and her head on straight.

We were alike in that way– her weakness was See’s Candies butterscotch lollipops, and I favored peppermints to focus. It was not uncommon, during the five years that she lived in our home, to find us next to each other in the living room, teeth clacking on our respective hard candies until I finished my work or she tired of the barrage of bad news.

Her other method of oral fixation was toothpicks, little orange slivers that she dropped as she hobbled from room to room. Truthfully, that was about all she left behind– plastic wrappers and wood chips, breadcrumbs that led me back through the years after she was gone.

I was home for Christmas during my freshman year of college when she passed, as suddenly as one can pass after almost a century of life. It was California dreary out, with a blank sky and a bad attitude. She was three thousand miles away by then, but the West Coast was mourning. That night, I popped a coffee-flavored See’s lollipop in my mouth. It was the last thing I would bite into for days.

My wisdom teeth were never wise enough to grow in the correct direction, and with my already small jaw, their removal was an inevitability. We had made the appointment the previous summer, hoping to control the problem before it started. The timing could not have been predicted. But I would have signed away a world of hurt down the line if I could have absolved myself of surgery on the morning after my grandmother’s death.

My orthodontist was a genial Scottish man in his fifties. I had met him just once before, for our consultation. He charmed me immediately by recognizing my name and its correct pronunciation– “Gaelic, o’course,” he had said cheerfully. Mema would have been smitten. She always loved accents– anything about people, really, cultures and language and history. She told me once that she had lived so many stories that she couldn’t help wanting to hear everyone else’s. This was what I was thinking about when he began to rattle off the medications he would prescribe me for the weeks after the operation.

“Oh, I don’t need the strong stuff,” I interjected. “I’ll be just fine with the Ibuprofen, I’ve got a lot of grit.”

He chuckled, handing me a stack of forms.

“I don’t doubt it, Maura. Let’s just see how you’re feeling afterwards, eh?”

I was the last of my friends from high school to get their wisdom teeth out. I had stayed the night with Amelia right after the surgery, brought ice cream for Tyler every day for a week. I knew that there would be no conversation or ‘seeing how I felt.’

I am not taking those pills.

I have never lived at extremes. Modesty and moderation were ingrained in me before I could pronounce either word, by my mother and Mema and their working-class sensibilities. And if nothing else, I have held myself to those principles. In high school, even on the rare occasions that I allowed myself to go out on weekends, it was a point of pride that I knew my limits. I was never the least sober in the room– often, I was the most by far. I never, ever, lost control.

The assistant was a young, lanky man– almost a boy, really, I noticed as he plunged the IV drip into my arm. I imagined babbling to him when I woke up, making a fool of myself, having to be carried out like I once carried my high school friend when she mixed Vicodin and vodka.

“Don’t give me too much,” I remember pleading. “Look at me. Promise me that I will walk out of here on my own.”

He must have listened, because when I came to, it was with a surprisingly clear head. At least, the part of my head that I could feel was clear. I spent the car ride home in silence, poking at the numbness, pushing down the tears that were welling up in my eyes.

Healing happened, slowly and awkwardly. A prescription of Hydrocodone sat on my dresser unopened; I refused everything but aspirin and a steady supply of vanilla pudding. Instead, I spent my days drifting between sleep and discomfort, but I suffered in silence. The whole house, after all, was suffering too.

Mema was not an affectionate woman– in the years that I knew her, she was not even particularly kind. She was stubborn and abrasive, with a Southern drawl turned scratchy with years of smoking and sighing and complaining.

She was also the strongest woman I have ever known.

After she quit smoking, she kept as far as possible from any sort of vices that would shorten her lifespan, replacing them instead with virtues… temperance, fortitude, and CNN. Even in her last years, when my parents begged her to have a glass of wine each night just to help her get to sleep, she refused. Her pain management was a strict combination of stubbornness and grit, and her health remained remarkable for her age.

But when you are close to one hundred years old, regardless of how healthy you are, on some level, every part of your body is begging you to just stop. To rest. Sometimes, it’s even in your own mind.

Once, I heard her ask my mother, “Why am I still here?”

“You know that we can’t get you back on a plane safely with all this oxygen, Mom.”

“No,” she sighed. “Why am I still here?”

But she accepted it. She held firm, and she stayed. Even when we ran out of money and resources and patience, when we had to fly her those three thousand miles to move back in with my auntie Beth, she stayed until she could not stay one second longer.

When I was seventeen, I once stood staring into her medicine cabinet on the precipice of explosion. I had my father’s gin and my mother’s anger in my stomach, and I knew what matches it would take to light that fuse. But I stayed, strong and composed, just as she did every day. I couldn’t do it for myself. So I did it for her.

I am not taking those pills.

I was, at the outset, correct about my ability to push through the discomfort. My constant fear of losing control had given me an acute awareness of how much I could handle, and I walked that line confidently. I did everything right, took the antibiotics and cleaned the surgical sites with a ritualistic reverence. All of my focus went towards the pain in my mouth. And the other pain, the ache that had settled into the bones of our house and deep into my chest, went untreated.

Until it couldn’t anymore.

I pushed myself too hard, I understand that now. I had convinced myself that I was out of the woods entirely, that I hadn’t felt any real soreness for days, that I was ready to shut the door behind a miserable week. That afternoon, I went hiking with my best friend, and we caught up over coffee and pre-Christmas peppermint bark. She tried to mention Mema, and I pointed out a hawk in the trees ahead.

By the evening, I was curled up in excruciating pain, convinced that the left side of my jaw was cracking and splintering as I laid with a bag of ice that did no real good. Taking Ibuprofen was like trying to stamp out a forest fire.

With gritted teeth and an apology, I cracked open the bottle of Hydrocodone.

That night was one of the worst of my life. I dreamed apocalyptic wastelands, bodies fetid and festering after the pestilence of the pandemic that had already defined that year. I saw my grandmother, sweating in and out of sleep– alive for a moment, but dying again and again. In the confusion and haze, for just a moment, I thought she might have been a god.

My fever dream ended as a weak winter sun began to stream through the window. I was drained, more exhausted than I had been the night before, but the ache had disappeared and my head was clear. I stripped the sheets and washed off the night, plugged in my headphones, hit shuffle perched on her old bare mattress.

And I was catching my breath/

Staring out an open window, catching my death/

And I couldn’t be sure/

I had a feeling so peculiar, that this pain would be for/

Evermore

I didn’t even notice I was crying until the drops hit my legs. I do not think I could have stopped myself if I tried. But I had run out of the desire to control.

Hey December, guess I’m feeling unmoored/

Can’t remember what I used to fight for

Everything, my grandmother and mother have insisted, exists in moderation. But what is moderation when we feel in extremes?

I rewind the tape, but all it does it pause/

On the very moment all was lost/

Sending signals to be double-crossed

We are made for vices, for cigarettes and coffee and chocolate cake. We are made to cling to any semblance of control, and then to watch again and again as it slips away, and then we are made to try again.

When the tears ran out and the last notes played, I pulled myself up and grabbed my keys. On my way out of the door, I caught a glimpse of something on the kitchen counter– a small glass bowl filled with See’s lollies. We had bought a box to send her for Christmas the day before she died.

This is what she left behind. Plastic wrappers, wood chips. A gap in the family and four gaps in my jaws. Ninety-nine years of stories and stubbornness and Southern sensibility. I carry the weight of her within me, her love and her loss. I manage our pain the way that she taught me, with control and composure. But I’m learning my own ways too.

And I couldn’t be sure/

I had a feeling so peculiar, this pain wouldn’t be for/

Evermore

My fist closed around a butterscotch.

#stretch2021 #memoir

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