#or maybe it is the sickness and now the antibiotic is also making me exhausted?? I hope so | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fluffyllamas-23 · 9 months

Note

PROMPT TIME FOR YOUR LOVELY LADIES! I'm thinking that perhaps Arwen is super sick (like calls out sick, already been to urgent care, did everything right), but a pet has an emergency surgery and she's called in to work. Despite Marcia's protests, she goes in. It's a long surgery and she's standing the whole time, so by the time Marica picks her up, she's barely even able to balance on her feet. Maybe she's NOT able to balance on her feet. THEN COMFORT <3 only if you like this! if not I can try again!

Here you go!! I hope you like it omg thank you for always loving my girls <3 <3 <3

“You cannot be serious,” Marcia says from the bed, watching Arwen hurry around the room getting ready. Well…if hurrying was a sport, she probably would come in last. She is not moving quickly, but it’s to be expected with how sick she’s been lately. “You were just in the hospital. Tell Oliver you can’t come in. Sorry. Someone else is gonna have to do the surgery.”

Arwen pops her head out from inside their walk in closet. “Going to urgent care is hardly being ‘in the hospital’. Besides, he already called everyone else. I was his last option.”

Her voice is nearly shot, still low and rough from the flu bug she’s been fighting for the last week or so. She’s not feeling any better, really, especially since it had decided to develop into bronchitis and an ear infection.

Much to her intense displeasure.

“Same difference,” Marcia grumbles, crossing her arms. “You’re sick, you’re on antibiotics and an inhaler. You need to be resting.”

And she really should be. The antibiotics haven’t really kicked in yet. Her ears are feeling a tiny bit better from the ear drops, but they still hurt and feel full and are making her feel lowkey woozy and out of it. It’s disorienting and she doesn’t care for it at all.

Arwen sighs, smothering a rough, chesty coughing fit against the sleeve of her hoodie. She rubs her chest with a wince at the burst of pain that blossoms through it. “I know. I don’t want to go but it’s an emergency. They need me in the ER. Do you really mean to tell me that if you were in my position and you were the only person who could do it, you’d let that poor dog suffer and die? Because that’s what’s going to happen if I don’t go in.”

“Fine. I don’t like it, but I get it,” she sighs, patting her thighs before standing up. “Okay, how can I help this process go easier for you? I’m driving you there and picking you up, but besides that. Tell me what you need and I’ll do it.”

“Can you fill up my water bottle?” Arwen croaks. “And pack me some tissues and cough drops and my inhaler…also some masks. Definitely gonna need to be wearing one of those.” As if to prove her point, her breath catches and she chokes on nothing. She coughs into her elbow as she tries to hurry up getting ready. She’s going too slow and she knows she needs to get there ASAP.

“God you sound bad,” Marcia says, joining her in the closet and grabbing her a shirt and some pants to change into. “Here. You alright?”

Arwen sniffles, rubbing at her nose with the sleeve of her hoodie. “No…god, I just-”

“-I know, sunshine, I know. Finish getting dressed, I’ll go get everything ready for you and then we can go.”

Marcia manages to get everything together for her in less than ten minutes. She packed everything that Arwen requested, as well as a couple of blister packs of DayQuil for good measure. You can never really tell how long a surgery is going to take, and Arwen is coming up on needing to take more meds.

Arwen is downstairs now, looking as ready to go as she possibly can, which isn’t saying much. She’s pale and exhausted-looking, with dark smudges under her eyes, and she looks like she just wants to go back to sleep.

“Hi,” Marcia frowns when she sees her. “Are you sure you’re up to going in?”

Arwen shrugs listlessly. “Don’t really have much of a choice. Oliver says they’re slammed and everyone else is either working or out of town and can’t get back.”

“God, I am so sorry,” Oliver groans the second she steps into the clinic and he gets a good look at her. “I promise you were my very last option to call.”

“Sorry I took so long to get here…body’s not really cooperating with me,” she croaks, turning away from Oliver to cough into her elbow. Sure, she’s wearing a mask so it’s not entirely necessary, but it’s just force of habit at this point.

“You’re fine, he’s stable. We have him sedated and ready for you.”

She clears her throat with a wince, trying to hold back another cough. She took more of her (thankfully non-drowsy) cough syrup before they left, and she’s been sucking on a cough drop the entire drive over. Her pocket is stuffed with them, and she knows she’ll probably go through all of them before she’s home.

“It’s fine,” her voice is muffled by the surgical mask, which she’s hoping is at least hiding most of how bad she knows she looks. “Can someone brief me on what’s going on so we can get this show on the road and I can go home?”

One of the vet techs trails after her as she walks to the back to wash up for surgery, filling her in on what she’s going to be dealing with. Dog vs. car, dog took most of the damage, but luckily there’s not massive internal bleeding like everyone would have thought. There’s some, and he’s being monitored closely. He’s got tons of broken bones and she has a feeling she’s going to have to amputate a limb. She hopes it’s not too long and if she believed in god, she’d be praying that there were no major complications.

Unfortunately, that’s not the case. The surgery is long, and brings with it a host of complications. There was more bleeding than she expected, and the poor thing had some spinal damage she needed to fix, but she’s not confident that he’ll ever get full mobility back. She needed to amputate his front leg as well, and it was all just a mess. Sometimes she really hates cars. She’s seen enough injuries by them in her line of work, and every single one of them is so upsetting.

The good news is that with how busy she is, she doesn’t have time to focus on how awful she feels. The bad news is that she feels so aggressively awful that as soon as she closes up, it hits her like a ton of bricks and she stumbles into her surgical nurse, suddenly feeling really woozy and out of it.

“Oh my god,” she yelps, grabbing hold of Arwen before she can collapse.

“Sorry,” Arwen mumbles, trying to straighten herself. Her knees buckle, and then she’s being lowered to the ground.

“Go get Oliver,” a voice says, sounding further away than she thinks should be possible.

Everything feels like it’s spinning, and she can vaguely make out someone saying her name before darkness consumes her.

When she wakes, she’s on the couch in the staff lounge, a cool compress over her forehead.

“Oh thank god,” Marcia breathes. She’s sitting on her knees on the floor next to the couch where Arwen is lying.

Arwen struggles into a sitting position, but Marcia pushes her back down gently. “What-”

“-Don’t get up yet. You sort of passed out.”

“I what? Oh my god that’s so embarrassing,” she groans, draping an arm across her eyes. “How dramatic.”

“If you think that’s dramatic, you’re going to hate what’s about to happen,” Marcia says, shooting her a nervous smile.

Arwen narrows her eyes. “Marcia.”

Marcia avoids looking at her. Instead, she opts to focus her attention on the ends of Arwen’s hair and starts fiddling with them. “Don’t get mad, it’s protocol.”

“Marcia.”

She sighs, eyes flicking up to Arwen’s face. “Oliver called an ambulance when you passed out.”

“Oh my god!” She squeaks. Her voice breaks, and she’s immediately launched into a really painful sounding coughing fit.

“That sounds so bad, sweetpea…way worse than this morning. Are you okay?” Marcia sounds so soft and concerned that Arwen’s eyes prick with tears. She really doesn’t know how to answer Marcia’s question, but she can see that the longer she goes without answering her, the more stressed out Marcia gets.

“I just…” She croaks. “I don’t know.”

“Okay. That’s okay, you don’t have to know. I know you really don’t want to go to the hospital, but I think it might be a good idea to go get checked out again…I really don’t like how that cough is sounding now.”

Arwen knows she doesn’t really have a choice in the matter, so she just shrugs.

Marcia pushes the hair out of Arwen’s face, fingertips brushing against her skin. She’s burning up, and Marcia feels her stomach flip. She knew it was a bad idea for Arwen to come in, and even though she knows why she did, it doesn’t make her any less upset.

“Okay, you’ve had meds.”

“Yes.”

“Inhaler?”

“Yes.”

“Cough drops?”

“That falls under the medication category.”

“Okay true…tea?”

“Yes. Marcia, I’m fine, really. All I want is for you to come lay down so we can cuddle and I can nap. I’m exhausted.”

And she really is fine. The hospital gave her enough medication that she’s flying high and nothing could possibly be bothering her. She feels fuzzy from it all, but it’s a huge improvement from what it was. The doctor there had given her strict instructions to rest for the next week. She was not to go to work under any circumstances, and Oliver promised that he wouldn’t call her in.

She can finally rest, and Marcia has been fussing over her since they got home. She has a lot of nervous energy that she’s been getting out by fluffing Arwen’s pillows, fetching her tea and tissues and more meds, and making sure that she’s not too warm but not too chilled.

“Okay,” Marcia says, climbing into bed next to her. “I can do that.”

Arwen cuddles up to her, resting her head on Marcia’s chest and wrapping an arm around her abdomen. Marcia kisses the top of her head and then pulls the blankets up and starts carding her fingers through Arwen’s hair. Arwen is so exhausted that she feels herself drifting off to sleep damn near immediately.

Marcia feels herself drifting off as well. Between how stressed she’s been about Arwen, and how soft and warm her wife is, she’s ready to settle in for a nice, long nap, too.

So that’s what they do.

#I never know how to end these things lmao #Arwen and marcia #flu #bronchitis #ear infection #sickfic #I also am not a vet so ignore anything that doesn't make sense lmao #ocs

16 notes · View notes

deathsbestgirl · 10 months

Text

so some of my medical history:

lyme disease when i was 10

mono right after (one kid i was never near in the county had it)

a weird ass contagious skin disease that was very contagious so i couldn't go to school (easily treatable) that no one else in the county had

diagnosed with a type of arthritis when i was 15 (the "treatment" didn't help)

i've had 4 surgeries for cysts (ganglion cysts both wrists, left side lypoma, cholestiatoma in my left ear)

tubes in my ears 3 times

2 surgeries to replace the bone in my left ear (i'm HOH)

MRSA my freshman year of college (not allowed at school)

junior year? i started getting treated for chronic lyme (controversial) was on multiple antibiotics for 4 years, went gluten free, no sugar, very little caffeine, got cdif (colitis) (almost died) had to stop that route. tried chinese medicine (garlic & herbs) was taking chlorophyll with too much copper, got copper poisoning & almost died (when my dad was first diagnosed with cancer no less) stopped that course too. (also did a whole miserable diet that i can't even talk about bc i really like food & that also almost killed me bc i didn't want to eat ever)

did acupuncture for years, that was the MOST helpful. she improved my period, helped make my diet tolerable, improved my pain & migraines by leagues, etc etc

pretty sure i have pots, maybe eds but i haven't tried to get diagnosed because ... i hate doctors with a burning passion. my biggest problem now is fainting & allergies lol and liquid iv & compression socks have actually made the biggest difference. used to survive on gatorade & pedialyte. and i need to go back to acupuncture

i'm always in pain (muscles, joints literally all of them) but you learn to live with it. and my very helpful doctors told me to ignore that pain when i was 15 & said fatigue was normal. so um. yeah

i feel like i've buried most of the memories, like they were years ago at this point but they feel like another life sometimes.

it's so isolating and if i didn't have two really good friends at home when i left college, i don't know how i would have made it. they would come over basically everyday and we'd watch tv & hang out, they'd make sure i ate & help me clean etc etc (i had the downstairs apartment if my parents house most of the time and *thankfully* my family was always helpful & understanding, my mom fought so hard for me) my mom & my friends could tell how i was feeling without my having to saying a word about it.

it absolutely kills me every time i read about what others deal with when they have chronic illnesses because that just. is not how anyone should be treated when they're sick & in pain. i remember being 15 and the whole world telling me "you can't be sick all the time" like literally yes you can you dumb fucks. again, thankfully i had some great teachers who made so many allowances for me (letting someone leave class early with me because i couldn't walk or carry my stuff but i had no aids or plan with the school. sometimes teachers that weren't even mine let a friend leave their class. one teacher didn't make me read a tale of two cities because i missed the whole unit) i had another friend going through hell. she has crohn's disease and she almost went blind and it took a long time for her to get diagnosed too.

one of those days i'm just mad at the world. this post doesn't really have any purpose other than to say listen to disabled people, especially the ones in your life. and if you can help them then you should. it's isolating & exhausting & painful in so many ways. people shouldn't lose friends because of their health. they shouldn't be guilted because of their health. health isn't an achievement, it isn't something you can control even if you do everything you possibly can. some things we just have to live with.

#personal

8 notes · View notes

takaraphoenix · 1 year

Text

I'm overweight. That's not really news, that's been the case since about third grade. And I'm not stupid, I'm aware that certain medical issues can arise from being overweight.

However, even without a medical degree, I'm about 99,9% sure tonsillitis ain't one of them.

So I'm currently sick. On week three of this shit now, actually. The first week, I spent on antibiotics that... clearly didn't really help. But after they were empty, I went back to work, because I was feeling better. That worked for three days, over which things got... progressively worse again.

All the symptoms of the tonsillitis. The trouble breathing and swallowing, the extreme exhaustion, the dizziness when doing too much. Everything I'd been feeling back then, including the swollen tonsils, which was the deadest give-away for me as a non-medical expert.

So I went back to the doctor. The doctor that is not my usual doctor. But apparently it wasn't bad enough for another round of antibiotics yet. So she went on to investigate like something else must be the cause of this.

And now, to bring this back to the opening of the post, the "something else" had to be my weight, because her first question after that was how much I weight and how long I've been weighting that. And beyond a blood test, she also wanted to test my sugar ASAP.

I don't have diabetes. I know that. My grandpa and mom have it, my mom regularly makes me test my blood sugar levels, it's never done anything suspicious before.

And even if it did, I do not know how in the world my blood sugar levels would relate to the sore throat and swollen fucking tonsils that I came into the doctor's office with! But sure, test my blood and give me the Pikachu face at my normal blood sugar levels.

When she, later in the evening, called me with the results of my other blood tests, she noted a heightened liver reading, which I told her that my regular doctor already noted before and said we should get into at some point - to say that this isn't related to what's currently going on with me.

To which she replied she had his notes before her. And also that it ought to be a fatty liver, since I'm very overweight.

She didn't say that it was likely a fatty liver, or that it could be a fatty liver. She declared it. And also that it was also obviously because I'm overweight, in this definitive manner that places blame. You have this, that you brought onto yourself. This is your fault.

She doesn't even know if I have this. If that is what I have. She just has a slightly elevated liver reading. Slightly. Not even much. And from that, and my weight, she concluded, in a definite manner, that it had to be a fatty liver that also definitely came from me being overweight.

And I'm not a medical professional, but I still that there are other reasons for different liver readings. And also that there are different reasons for a fatty liver. Heck! Maybe I'm an alcoholic and that's why my liver is acting up (I'm not but hey).

I'm overweight and I'm aware of that fact and I'm aware that certain issues can be caused by that.

But the medical reason I came to this doctor for - my sore, aching throat and swollen tonsils that are the direct follow-up of me having been sick for a week straight with a diagnosed tonsillitis - are just not things that I think are in any way or shape related to my weight.

And even if they were! Her… declaration of a diagnosis without running any further tests, just has to be a fatty liver because it's a fatty patient.Her tone of voice. Her judgement. Because those were sharper than her actual words. It was about the way she said it, and the way that made me feel. Those were entirely inappropriate.

I've been overweight since third grade. And I had my preteen and teen years of body image problems and being bullied about it and all that cliche shit. But I've been okay with it since I was twenty. A singular person hasn't made me feel like crap about my body and weight like that since I was in high school.

The thing that infuriates me the most about all of this is that I know what's wrong with me. I knew it when I walked into the doctor's office. The tonsillitis is back. By now, full on, with all its perks aside from the fever (thankfully enough). But instead of prescribing me anything, anything at all, to help against the tonsillitis that isn't antibiotics, if it's not bad enough for antibiotics, this doctor had to turn me upside down to try and figure out how these symptoms could somehow relate to my weight.

And when she couldn't find a relation, she just... left me hanging. I mean, completely. She gave me nothing, and now, four days later, I feel so much worse, once again. But hey! Maybe now I am so much worse again that the next doctor I go to will try antibiotics again!

So I'm looking forward to taking my now progressively worse tonsillitis to the next doctor on Monday. And hoping to never see this one and her fatphobia again.

#Medical Fatphobia #Fatphobia #Personal

18 notes · View notes

faofinn · 1 year

Text

Day 30 - Infection (alt 2)

@mediwhumpmay

The cough that the kids had brought home, as they so often did, had gone straight to Harrison’s chest. They knew it would, it always had done. Even before his transplant he’d fall sick easily, especially surrounding his chest. After his transplant the illnesses only got worse, as did the denial. The antibiotics and steroids didn’t fully work, but he didn’t dare tell Tai - he didn’t want him to worry.

Of course, though, Tai was worried. Hars' immunosuppressants always made his illnesses worse, and the last time he’d got sick just after Christmas had seen him threatened with ICU. This time, Taidgh was sure, was worse. He was still coughing after his antibiotics, too stubborn to ask his doctors for any more help.

It was a rare weekday that Tai had off, Harrison was also off with the way the shift gods had decided - of course he was still trying to work through it all. Steve had taken the boys for a few nights, to try and allow Harrison some rest. It didn’t stop him being up all night, woken up every hour by his own coughing and struggling to breathe. At some point during the evening, he was sure he'd broken ribs, so now even the act of taking a breath was agony.

By the time morning had broken, Harrison was exhausted. He’d managed to get comfy, finding a position that didn’t have everything screaming in pain by some pure stroke of luck. Tai didn’t fancy waking him up, so carefully left the bed, heading down to make a coffee and some breakfast.

Tai left him as long as he could, so it was almost lunch when he headed upstairs to pester his husband. He’d barely moved from where he’d left him, curled around one of the kids’ forgotten toys.

“Hars?” He asked, nudging his husband. “Wake up.”

Harrison groaned in response, rolling away from Tai’s touch.

“I know, but it’s lunch time. You need your meds.”

“Lie with me first?”

“Alright. Five minutes, okay?”

He sighed. “Alright.”

Tai pulled the covers back, joining his husband in bed. He frowned, instinctively reaching for Hars.

Harrison jerked back. “What are you doing?”

“It’s so warm in here. I think you’ve got a temperature.”

“I’m cold, I’ve not got - oh.” His face fell. “Thermometer?”

“Yeah, let me grab it.” He returned after a few minutes, resting on the side next to Harrison. “Let me check.”

Tai read it in his other ear, twice. Neither were good, very clearly an infection and barreling towards sepsis.

“Hars, we need to call your consultant.”

“I’m fine. I’ve just been all wrapped up. I’ve not long been off the antibiotics and steroids.”

“Hars, no. I’m sorry, but that’s not how it works.”

“You’re not the doctor.”

“And right now neither are you.”

“I’ve not had any paracetamol today, Why don’t I take some and see how it goes?”

“Fine. We’ll give it two hours, until one pm, but then we have to call.”

“Have you got my meds?”

“They’re downstairs.” Tai said. “Why dodn’t you come down on the sofa?”

“Fine. I’m staying in my pyjamas.”

“I would too. Come on.”

Taidgh pottered around as Harrison slept on the sofa, worrying about his husband. He texted Steve, giving him a heads up. Fao was messaged too, though Tai felt like he was snitching on him.

Taidgh only gave him an hour, seeing how quickly his husband had changed. He’d already been pale, but he suddenly seemed drawn and beyond pale, even grey, and worry settled in Tai’s stomach. His hair was flattened on his forehead, sweat collecting on his brow. Tai didn’t need to have a steth to hear the state of his lungs. And he wasn’t sure if he was cyanosed or if it was his imagination. Taidgh knew his anxiety wouldn't help anything, so he swallowed his fears and sat next to Harrison.

“Hey, love.”

It took Harrison a moment. “Oh. Hi.”

“It’s time to call the hospital, Hars.”

“Yeah, okay. I feel shit.”

Tai wasn’t expecting his admission, and it only mad him worry more. Harrison never admitted he was sick. “Maybe we should just go to A&E.”

“Yeah, can I get my bag first?”

“Of course.” Tai pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I’ll make some calls, too, let Steve know.”

He nodded. “Thanks.”

The nurse answered Tai’s phonecall as Harrison was in the toilet. She was just as worried as Tai was with this infection so obviously ravaging his body. She told them to head to ED. It was worrying, but Tai agreed, jotting down her instructions. He thanked her for helping, for the extra info, and hung up.

“Hars? You ready?” He called up the stairs.

His response came in a thud and a groan.

“Hars!” Tai’s worst fears flared. “Hars!”

Harrison was barely sat up in the bathroom, back against the sink cabinet. He had the decency to look sheepish as he smiled apologetically. “Sorry.”

“What happened?”

“I was dizzy and then on the floor.” He admitted. “I didn’t pass out, just dizzy."

“Are you sure? You hit something hard, I heard you from the kitchen.”

“Yeah, I know. I felt it in my arse.”

Tai had to laugh. “Okay, alright. Need a hand up?”

“Yeah, please.”

“Come here.” He offered him his hand. “Carefully, yeah?”

WIth difficulty, Tai managed to get Harrison up and downstairs. There was a huge difference in Harrison in just an hour. He looked so much more exhausted, his hair stuck to his head with sweat. His skin was burning to the touch, but he was so dry. The cough just seemed to be so much worse, each coughing fit more exhausting than the last. Tai’s hand against his back steadied him, but all Tai could think about was the crackles underneath his fingers. They'd definitely left this infection too long.

By the time they arrived at hospital, Harrison no longer had the energy to hold his head up, let alone stand.

6 notes · View notes

shadowfromthestarlight · 1 year

Text

self-pity party:

i don’t have it in me to celebrate or even be a remotely pleasant person right now. i had a cold starting on december 11th, which never progressed into anything worse but never entirely went away, then i must have caught something on the way to florida on the 23rd, because on christmas day i came down with what felt like a cross between covid and strep throat (maybe it was lol; i didn’t test). eating and drinking became a chore because of my swollen lymph nodes. my whole body hurt. i got a plush toy to remind me of my cat because i wished i could have my cat to cuddle with. the sore throat and aches gave way to a massive sinus infection. on wednesday morning, everything just started coming out. i had to work, but i also had to blow my nose every couple of minutes. falling asleep was hard because it was hard to breathe from the congestion. normal cold & flu medicine didn’t help. by friday night, i’d lost my voice. saturday morning, my eye hurt and there was never-ending green gunk coming out, my voice hadn’t improved, the congestion hadn’t improved, the sinus pressure was barely tolerable.

i spent the last day of 2022 feeling the worst i’d felt all year, unable to speak in anything above a hoarse whisper, a never-ending headache and pain all over my face, my eye clogged with goop, weak and fatigued from days of illness. i spent three hours of the afternoon waiting to get prescribed antibiotics at an urgent care. my head throbbed more and more as the night wore on. i was in so much pain and discomfort and frustration from being sick for three weeks and all-around misery that i wished i was a child so it would be okay to fall on the floor and scream. i watched the fireworks (at least 2 dozen displays) from the balcony and kissed my plush toy and went to bed.

medicine and sleep marginally improved things; i can now think without a pounding headache and my eye isn’t oozing every minute. i might be able to travel home without people freaking out because i look like i’m patient zero for the next pandemic. i can still barely talk. i woke up coughing from post-nasal drip. i’m so over it. i’m over being asked how i feel, i’m over being told what to do to feel better, i’m over being asked if i’ve taken my medicine, in fact i would like to not be spoken to at all. i just want to go home, pull the covers over my face, and hide in the dark with my cat.

[i don’t even feel happy about the new year; i actually feel nothing much at all. i had never looked forward to 2023 anyway because i didn’t like the number. besides, from a global standpoint, it’s going to suck. we have possibly the greatest concentration of “leaders” who don’t know how to lead in human history. they’re all either weak-willed, stupid, or just plain psychopathic. there will be zero accountability for the people who just from a moral standpoint deserve to be hanged for crimes against humanity over the past three years. they’ll just come up with creative new ways to abuse us. can’t wait to see what the next annual propaganda campaign is!]

i feel awful because i’m a walker and a hiker and a step counter and i’ve barely been able to do anything for days. i haven’t had 10K steps since the 22nd. i’ve had one meal i would consider satisfying in the entire past week. i look scrawny. i have to do a lot in january to make up for it, but right now, instead of excited, i just feel exhausted.

i think i’m gonna try crying and see if that helps get more... you know... out.

happy new year same shit, different digits. enjoy it while you can, before WWIII hits.

i might be back in a few days. idk.

#negative on main #buh bye

3 notes · View notes

jodilin65 · 3 months

Text

Earlier this morning, I planned to have a mani-pedi, but the salon was closed. Instead, we visited Treasure Mart during a nice mini thunderstorm, a place we hadn’t been to in many months. We spotted some cute things that caught our eye, but they were a bit pricey, so we decided not to make any purchases. There was a figurine I almost bought; it was nice, but nothing extraordinary. Nonetheless, it was refreshing to get out. We strolled through the aisles of the large store for nearly an hour. Towards the end, I suddenly felt exhausted, realizing I need to be more active to build endurance to avoid getting tired easily. Because of it, he moved the treadmill back into the living room. I just don’t get enough of a workout hitting the road in VR.

Tomorrow, I’m scheduled to visit the salon, and on Thursday, I have a painting class at the clubhouse.

The hammering next door has begun. I’m guessing this is where they start hammering down the borders. I don’t see a truck over there, though, and I didn’t see anyone in back so maybe they’re starting on the other side of the house. Then again, these houses are so damn close that if he was hammering on his exterior living room wall or the exterior wall of the second bedroom, I would hear it in here. I just hope they’re done with whatever they’re doing before I start sleeping in!

We talked about some future activities we want to do. For $65 each we can get taken out on a boat, given a wetsuit, and go snorkeling with manatees. This is at a place an hour north of here.

There’s also a walking trail nearby that might be a fun place to go when we’re bombing the place.

So I called and left a message for them to give to Rhonda about the breathing issues caused by the nitrofurantoin and asked if I could be switched to bactrim or amoxicillin.

OMG, I’m so pissed. I’ll have to finish this later.

Okay, I’m back. The girl who works in the office called telling me to call her back after we agreed she could leave a message. When I called, she said my urine test was negative.

Then why the hell was I given an antibiotic and put at risk of getting a yeast infection if it was negative?

So now I’m waiting for the nurse to call back with more info and I’m going to answer since I know that even though I once again reminded them that they could leave all the detailed messages they want, I’m just gonna be told to call back.

Damn, do I miss Galileo!

Anyway, unless all these doctors are missing something, I’m going to assume that any burning I’ve been feeling is due to menopause. It can be pretty bad from what I was told, and of course, I always have to get it the worst. If I can’t manage to get it under control myself, then I might have to make a GYN appointment.

The honker is trimming the tree between him and Sue. I thought that was something he normally did before he left but if he’s interested in an event at the end of next month, he probably won’t leave until May.

Yesterday his truck never moved at all, which is unusual for him, so I’m guessing he was either picked up or was very sick.

Oh, look at that. Colleen is over there with him now even though her vehicle isn’t there. I’m a little worried that this relationship could cause him to move down here full-time or stay here longer but maybe she’s a snowbird too. I’m now guessing he was over at her place yesterday. It’s only about a five-minute walk over there. What are they going to do, though, unless she too is from his area of Canada? Have a relationship every other 6 months?

0 notes

lihikainanea · 3 years

Note

sis leiii, can i please have a piece where instead of bill flying back home to be with tiger, she's the one who's flying to see him because he's travelling to film a movie or do a photoshoot or something but he's feeling homesick and maybe having a fever and tiger flies immediately to whatever he is to take care of him, but she surprises him and he lets himself cry when he sees her there?

Oh my sweet, soft Bill. Tiger is, without a doubt, no stranger to rescuing her Big Dude.

And you know, maybe it’s a multitude of things. Maybe Bill really isn’t jiving with the producer or the studio or something, but he’s learning in his older age that sometimes you can’t just...flip your shit and walk away from projects. Maybe the project itself still really interests him, but the people carrying it through are being insufferable dicks. Bill has an extremely low tolerance for people who think they are above anyone else, and if the set he’s on is rampant with egos, he has a really hard time...but he also can’t necessarily walk away.

Maybe it’s not even that. Maybe it’s just a gruelling shoot, one where actors’ unions and the studio are constantly in a battle because the actors are somewhat being forced to go through with scenes or go through in conditions they have no business going through. On Bill’s second day on set, he spent 14 hours submerged in an indoor pool that was way below the temperature it should have been. His acting contract, his union, probably states that he can spend up to 3 hours maximum in the pool and then he needs a one hour break to dry off, have a warm drink, raise his body temperate back to normal and then he can continue.

But the producer was always almost just getting the right shot, and maybe just one more take, and okay that was great but let’s do another one just in case and suddenly, it’s 14 hours later and Bill is shivering, his body temperature is dropping dangerously low, and his lips are blue. The doctor on set finally puts an end to it.

The next day, a cough had set in deep in his chest. One of those coughs that started off small and then just couldn’t stop, one of those ones that ached in your lungs, a cough that had you gasping for air after you just couldn’t make it stop. His entire day was scrapped, every take he did cut short when his breath would catch and it would set off this hacking cough, one that rattled deep in his bones. He was exhausted. He was out of breath. The first week hadn’t even wrapped yet, and he was already wrecked.

Tiger heard it the moment she picked up the phone when he called her that evening--the middle of the night for her. She picked it up and mumbled a groggy hello before a deep, uncharacteristic wheeze had her eyes widening.

“Hi kid,” he rasped, “Sorry I’m calling so late.”

“...Bill?” She had to ask to be sure. His voice was so rough, so strained, and she winced as a terrible cough sounded down the line.

“Yeah,” he wheezed, “Sorry, give me a second.”

He sounded terrible. His voice sounded thick and rough, strained as if he was trying to control it--and his cough sounded even worse. Wet and rumbling, it seemed to go on forever before she heard a soft sip, clearing of his throat.

“Sorry,” he croaked, “Having some issues.

“You sound terrible bud,” she said, “What’s going on?”

“Just caught a bit of a chill,” he mumbled.

A bit of a chill turned into pneumonia a few days later--and still, he worked. He would call her when he could, but tiger was getting increasingly more worried--she knew her Good Dude. And it seemed that every time she talked to him, he was coming off a day on set that was seeming more and more insane. A night shoot, where he had to run through freezing cold temperatures and snow in nothing but a bathrobe, barefoot--and he had to do it over and over and over again, because the director wasn’t happy with the shot. More water scenes. More hours spent in subzero temperatures, in soaking wet clothes, already sick as a dog.

Tiger had a feeling that there was a reason why he was sticking to regular calls instead of video ones, and at one point she insisted on it--and it only confirmed her suspicions. He looked terrible--gaunt and pale, his big eyes sticking out of his head even more, his skin a sickly pallor, and he was at the point where he couldn’t even get two words out without either having to stop to catch his breath, or launching into a coughing fit. The wheeze in his chest was even more prominent, there was a permanent wince in his features from the pain, and his eyes had deep bags under them.

“Bill,” she said sternly, “Have you seen a doctor? Are you taking meds for this?”

“I’m on a round of antibiotics,” he brought a pill bottle into the frame and shook it to show her, “But it just needs to run its course.”

“My ass it does,” she snaps, “You look awful.”

“Careful,” he warned, but it lacked all of its usual malice when he launched into a coughing fit after.

As soon as tiger hung up the phone, she booked her ticket to his location. She wasn’t going to sit by and watch this happen. The kicker was when she was browsing her instagram and just happened to stumble across a story that one of Bill’s co-stars posted--a goofy photo of the dude in the make up chair--but there in the background, a little blurred but tiger could spot him anyway--was Bill, curled up in a lounge chair, an IV drip in his arm. Tiger screen capped the photo and sent it to Bill, with a very curt message.

Call me. Now.

Seconds later, the image disappeared from the costar’s stories and Bill’s name popped up on her screen.

“Don’t freak out,” he started, “It’s fine, kid.”

“An IV isn’t fine Bill,” she snapped, “What’s happening?”

“It’s just some nutrients and vitamins and a lot of hydration--” a pause for a gross-sounding coughing fit--”I’m having a hard time shaking this thing, so it’s just to give me a boost.”

“You can’t shake this thing because you’re exhausted and this gig is killing you--”

“I’ve gotta go tiger, they’re calling me back to scene,” he mumbled, “Please don’t worry about me. I’m okay, I promise.”

Tiger moved her flight up to the earliest one she could find.

And listen, when she got there? She gave his agent strict instructions not to tell him shit, but to help her find a way to get into his apartment. She was exhausted from the flight and the time difference, but she was on a mission--she found a grocery store, was able to pick up a few staples. She stocked up on green tea, honey, managed to find some warm blankets, was able to somehow figure out how the sauna on the back deck worked. Tiger had a bad case of whooping cough as a kid, and she remembered that Granny used to spend hours in a steamed out bathroom holding her, trying to ease the pain and break the cough. Extreme heat was good to try and clear out the lungs, and if Bill didn’t have a fever, she planned on manhandling him into the sauna for a few hours tonight.

She got everything she could. Medicine. Lozenges. A thermometer. A hot water bottle. She spent the rest of the day cooking--big pots of soups and stews, hearty things with a lot of vegetables that would be easy for him to digest.

And listen, when Bill got home in the wee hours of the morning? Tiger was on the couch reading, and she stood when he entered the doorway. He hadn’t seen her yet and she watched as her Big Dude stepped in, closed the door behind him--and then slumped against it. His back leaning on it, his head fell forward and she heard him exhale a rough sigh--or at least part of one, before he started coughing again. Pushing himself off, he wearily raised his head and that’s when he saw her--and he froze.

“But you’re fine eh?” she said sarcastically. The house was mostly dark except for a few dim lights, but she saw his eyes widen and the shock register on his face.

“...Tiger?” he rasped after a long pause. He shook his head as if he might be imagining it, but tiger took a few steps forward.

“This ends now Bill,” she said lowly, “Do you hear me?”

She stopped in front of him, but he still hadn’t blinked yet. She raised her eyebrows expectantly.

“Tiger...” he mumbled. Reaching a hand out, his fingers brushed her hip as if he was afraid she was just a mirage--but then a few fingers turned into a whole hand, then both hands.

“Tiger,” he croaked, and then he crumbled. Reaching for her, she pulled him in as his knees buckled under him. She caught his weight as best she could, and he buried his nose in her neck. His shoulders shook and he clung to her, and she could feel the rumble in his chest as he struggled for air.

“Okay easy big guy,” she said, “Just try and stay calm and breathe through it.”

The cough started off small as he tried to suppress it, but eventually his whole body shook as he wheezed and his knees gave out. He knelt down, trying to get air in as he heaved, and she soothingly rubbed his back.

“Enough,” she said softly as she patted his back, “I’m here bud, and I’m not leaving. Just try and calm down a bit so you can get your breath back.”

His hand still reached for her just to make sure she was real, and it took him a long time to be able to catch his breath. Tiger held him the whole time, right there on the floor, until he could at least get some air in again.

Once he was able to breathe again, I’ll bet she put her foot down. Told him that she was worried, and that she was there to take care of him--because he was sick. Really sick, and that if he didn’t take the time he needed to heal, that he would only get worse. He finally caved because it was her you know? And for as well as he takes care of her, he trusts her to do the same for him. Halfway through the call with his agent, tiger had to take the phone from him because he was struggling for air again and couldn’t get the words out. Tiger told her, in no uncertain terms, that Bill wouldn't be able to work for at least two weeks.

And listen, for two weeks--Bill wasn’t allowed to move an inch unless tiger told him too. His fever was too high for the sauna that night, and even though he shivered most of the night, she made sure he was only draped with one blanket so he wouldn’t overheat. She filled him with fluids to try and help break the fever, and when it was a little better the next day, she started working on his lungs. She dragged him to the sauna and sat there with him to sweat it out. He was miserable--cranky and in pain, the dry air burned his already sensitive chest, but tiger just sat there and held him. She held him as his body wracked with heaves, she rubbed his back when a coughing fit took over and left him gasping, and she wouldn’t let him leave no matter how much he protested. Only after they had been in there for two hours did she pull him back upright, take him inside and get him to drink another ungodly amount of water, followed up by some of Granny’s tea. She gave him all the head scritchies until he was able to sleep at least a little, and even then he was only able to with his head propped up against her chest.

It was agonizing. It was the sickest she had ever seen him. And it was a long process--if she didn’t like the way he looked after two weeks, then she wasn’t going anywhere for at least another two. And neither was he.

#bill skarsgard drabble #bill skarsgard #BFF!Bill #sick bill

54 notes · View notes

wenevergotusedtoegypt · 3 years

Text

It has been a DAY, let me tell you people

After waiting for almost an hour after our appointment time at the pediatrician we finally got in and had the pleasant surprise of actually getting to see my son’s doctor instead of another doctor at the practice, he promptly diagnosed the ear infection and wrote a prescription for antibiotics, great.

Normally we use a pharmacy that delivers, but when the prescription came through shortly afterwards, they had no delivery windows open til tomorrow afternoon. Which like...no, not waiting that long to start antibiotics. This actually happened to me a different time, also with antibiotics, and that time I called customer service and they were able to squeeze me in that day. So I decided it was worth a shot trying that again.

They were not able to do that this time, so they offered to transfer the prescription to a different pharmacy so we could get it today. I gave them the information for the closest pharmacy to us, which was a mistake, because I should have KNOWN something would go wrong. At least some small minor thing has ALWAYS gone wrong every time I’ve used that pharmacy, which is why I stopped using it and switched to this other one. But we had a cranky as heck toddler to deal with, and going further out of our way to a different pharmacy seemed inadvisable.

That was all in the car on the way home. After we got home, my husband went to do some errands near that pharmacy and stopped in to see if they had the prescription yet. They told him to come back at 5:00. This was about 3:15.

At 5:00 I called the pharmacy. I said, “Hi, I have a prescription that was being transferred to you and I wanted to see if it was received yet.” The woman asked for the date of birth, which I gave her, and the last name, which I gave her. She said, “Yes, I see it, it came in today.” I said, “Great, when will it be ready?” She said that it has to be mixed so I said ok, when will that be done, and she clarified that it has to be mixed at the time of pickup so whenever we come to pick it up they will mix it and it will take about 5 minutes for it to be ready.

At about 5:45 my husband showed up at the pharmacy to pick up the prescription and was told they did not have it. One of the employees claimed that I called and asked about the specific medication, and coincidentally they had just received a different prescription for the same medication, but I never gave my son’s DOB or name and so they didn’t realize it wasn’t for him (which was framed as my fault). Which, first of all, if that had been what happened, that still would have been a screwup on their part? You should not confirm that you have received a particular patient’s prescription without finding out who the patient is?? But also, it’s not what happened. It played out exactly as I wrote above. I DID give his DOB and name and I DID NOT ask about the medication by name, mostly because I do not frickin know how to pronounce it so why would I try.

Anyway my husband keeps trying to talk to various staff for a while and Pharmacist 1 (of 2, to be relevant later in the story) then adds to the story to be that they have been trying to get in touch with the original pharmacy and have not been able to and that my husband should call them. So my husband calls the first pharmacy and they say that they left a voicemail for this pharmacy, which Pharmacist 1 says was not received. Pharmacist 1 then proceeds to give the other pharmacy a completely different phone number than the one publicly available for this pharmacy.

My husband waits a bit longer and then Pharmacist 1 tells him that he needs to call back the first pharmacy because they haven’t done some administrative mumbo jumbo with the prescription that would allow it to go through with the insurance. By this point it is after 6pm and the first pharmacy is closed. Pharmacist 1 tells my husband there is simply nothing they can do today.

By this point I was flaming mad and in full mama bear mode because my husband had been telling me about the whole thing and I couldn’t believe the way they’d lied about my 5pm call and were taking zero responsibility for things (if they had told me at 5pm that they didn’t have the prescription, we would have had 45 extra minutes to sort it out with the first pharmacy, but no, I was told we could walk in anytime and walk out 5 minutes later with the medication). I was also staring at a second night in a row of basically no sleep with a toddler in pain taking up half my bed thanks to this incompetence. So I grabbed my son and ran out of the house with him, met my husband halfway to hand off the toddler so I wouldn’t have to take him into an enclosed public space, and headed into the pharmacy.

At this point I had no hope that we were going to actually get the antibiotic today, but I wanted them to own up to the fact that they screwed up and at least make some attempt at rectifying the issue (like, “we’ll get on this first thing when we open tomorrow morning and call you the moment it’s ready” or something along those lines). Now, there were 5 staff in this pharmacy, 4 of whom could theoretically have answered the phone per their positions. Of those 4, 2 were men and so definitely did not tell me at 5:00 that they had my prescription, and 2 were women. One woman had a heavy accent. It was not her who I spoke to. So I basically 100% knew when I walked in the door who was responsible for this issue (this is not a place that has a zillion staff running around, and they close at 7, so it wasn’t a new shift from 5:00).

I waited in line and when I got to the front, to the woman who told me at 5:00 that they had the prescription, I said, “Hi, my husband was just here asking about a prescription for my son and I need to follow up with someone about what happened.” This woman acted like she had no idea what situation was being referred to even though my husband had left maybe 10 minutes ago max, and politely requested my son’s information like it was the first time she was dealing with it. She then told me they did not have his prescription. When I related the 5:00 call (without letting on that I knew I’d spoken to her - and now I was even more sure because I recognized her voice), she just said she didn’t know who I’d talked to but they didn’t have it, and refused to take any responsibility either personally or institutionally for what I’d been told.

At that point, Pharmacist 1 jumped in and related the same story she’d told my husband and told me that she couldn’t fill a prescription that she didn’t have. I told her that I understood that at this point it seemed we were not getting the prescription tonight, but what I wanted to address was the fact that I was told at 5pm that I could walk in and walk out 5 minutes later with my son’s medication and now he was going to start his antibiotics a day late. She continued to tell me over and over that she couldn’t fill a prescription she didn’t have, no matter how many times I reiterated that what I wanted was not for her to do that, but for the pharmacy to just take responsibility for the fact that they screwed up and because of that my toddler was going to have to suffer an extra night. This kept going back and forth with no headway being made, just getting more and more heated, until she got sick of talking to me and handed me off to Pharmacist 2. With whom I initially proceeded to have the exact same exchange of “we can’t fill a prescription we don’t have” “I’m not asking you to do so, I just want to speak to someone who will take responsibility for what happened here” “well we can’t fill a prescription we don’t have” “I KNOW I AM NOT GETTING THIS PRESCRIPTION TONIGHT, I JUST WANT SOMEONE TO TAKE RESPONSIBILITY FOR WHAT HAPPENED AND RECTIFY IT”

....and then suddenly he’s like, “well if you just give me the doctor’s name and number, I can try to get the doctor to send a new prescription directly to us.” OH. OKAY. IS THERE SOME REASON THIS IDEA DID NOT OCCUR TO ANYONE BEFORE I HAD TO DRAG MYSELF OVER HERE AND TAKE THE TIME TO YELL AT ALL OF YOU??? Like, you know, when my husband was there?? I don’t actually enjoy yelling at pharmacy staff or just at people in general! This is not a thing I go around doing! In fact, I had never done it before and if the medication were for anyone other than my sick small child I probably still wouldn’t have! And apparently you had this super sensible, doable, easy solution the whole time but we had to go through all of this crap and me making a giant scene* to get there??

7 minutes later they have the prescription and 8 minutes after that I’m walking out the door with the medication. 🤦🏻‍♀️Pharmacist 1 rang me up at the register and told me that it was ok that I yelled at her because she would have done the same thing for her child in my shoes. People. We didn’t even need to do this!!! You literally could have just called the doctor when my husband was there without my ever setting foot on your awful premises! Why!!!!!!

Anyway then I FINALLY got home and my son was a cranky, exhausted, snotty-faced mess and we still had to actually get him to take the medication, which did not go well. I’m not sure how much he actually swallowed. Really need to figure out a new strategy going forward, but he has no appetite so mixing it into something is unlikely to work. So I asked for advice in a group and while I did get some workable suggestions to try, I also had a rando stranger ask me why he was prescribed antibiotics, as if perhaps her judgment might be that they were not necessary depending on the reason and perhaps I might weigh that more heavily than our literal doctor 🙃(I responded that he was prescribed them because our doctor deemed it necessary)

*my husband’s friend, who knows me as a relatively quiet, calm, and collected individual, was in the pharmacy for the duration of this encounter and I’m sure he was like WHAT THE HECK who knew she yelled like this??

#really more than a day it's been a few days #in conclusion if this ever happens again we are going however far we have to go to use a different pharmacy #🙃#and it's a good thing we're going out 2/4 yontiff meals because today was supposed to be my main prep day #and i did exactly zero cooking #and my husband has class from 9-5 tomorrow

7 notes · View notes

sickgrave · 3 years

Text

I’m going to share a bit of my breast reduction surgery experience since I couldn’t find a lot of info about people that went through it while being chronically ill! Feel free to reach out and ask questions if there’s anything I didn’t cover below ❤️

Here’s a bit about prep and the first few weeks of post-op recovery (tw for mentions of throwing up, needles, blood, and general surgery talk):

Prep:

I was scheduled for surgery on a Monday and got a call from one of my surgeon’s nurses on Friday (since they close over the weekend) to go over prep. I was allowed to eat until 4:30 AM the morning of my surgery since I wasn’t scheduled until 12:30PM, but ended up letting dinner be my last meal. I asked the nurse if I should take my usual meds before surgery (Xeljanz, tirosint (levothyroxine) and she said no. HOWEVER, when I mentioned that I take corlanor and explained what it does (keeps my heart rate normal instead of spiking to 200) she decided I should absolutely take it with a sip of water the morning of. Make sure to go down the list, ask EXPLICITLY about your medications and explain why you may have hesitancies about not taking them. Sometimes nurses just... don’t know what drugs do what- especially if you go through a surgeon’s practice and not a hospital- and that’s okay! The more thorough you can be the better you can make sure your experience is.

Day of (before the surgery):

I ended up getting called in early since my surgeon’s schedule seemed to be opening up (good thing I didn’t eat wicked late like they said I could!). I was taken back almost immediately. I was asked to pee in a cup for last minute testing (pregnancy tests smh 🙄) and given what was basically tylenol to take while I waited for the anesthesiologist.

The team was very quick to hook up my i.v. (one poke in my hand! that’s a new record honestly) and shortly after the surgeon came in with a student to make guide marks with a pen- we also discussed my goals one last time to make sure we were on the same page about size. I was walked over to the surgical table, situated myself, and got about 5 words in before I knocked out for good!

While I was briefed about the possibility of having drains inserted there was a good chance I would be sent home without them. I personally didn’t need them but you might- and your nurses and surgeon will go into great detail to tell you how to care for them and when you should be able to remove them!

Day of (after the surgery):

This is where it gets the most hazy for me. I know I was kept in the facility for an hour after the surgery but don’t remember any of it. I don’t remember the nurse helping me get dressed, or wheeling me outside. I do remember throwing up quite violently and not being able to figure out where the vomit bag was or how to keep it in front of my face. I do remember the heat really getting to me and thinking I wouldn’t feel so sick if I were inside and cooled. If you have a home with stairs or live in an apartment I highly recommend you DON’T CLIMB STAIRS. Maybe arrange to stay with a friend or at a hotel if you can, or stay on the first floor of your home. Even with 2 people helping me I stumbled almost drunkenly, while vomiting, just praying I could get to my recliner before I passed back out again. It was terrifying and I definitely didn’t have the strength to deal with it- I’m lucky I didn’t crack my head on the concrete stairs outside or fall flat on my chest.

I vaguely remember being fed ice chips (highly suggest having ice ready, as well as popsicles and ice cream) and sleeping a lot. Once I was awake, we discovered I couldn’t take the pain meds I was given due to allergies. I ended up taking extra strength tylenol at normal doses and though I was uncomfortable, I made it by just fine. The pain levels are pretty exhausting but I think the worst part is that it’s consistently achey and feels tight- like your breasts are way too high on your chest. I was allowed to use ice packs for 20 minutes at a time but my cousin who recently had the same procedure was told to completely avoid it. As with most things listen to your surgeon and their specific instructions for YOU and your body- there’s usually a reason.

Post-op (1 day after):

This seemed quick to me, but the day after my surgery I went back to see my surgeon. He removed the surgical bra I was sent home with and I IMMEDIATELY got nauseous and gagged a lot- but once I had ice packs and a cool drink I felt alright. There’s a lot of bruising and swelling the first week so your tits look pretty gnarly. If you have any signs of infection you’ll be put on antibiotics, but luckily for me I seemed to be healing just fine. The back relief and lack of weight is amazingly immediate though! I could already feel miles and miles better.

I was told that I could shower the next day (wed) and to be careful about it. I fully recommend taking it SUPER slow. The release of pressure when removing the surgical bra really takes it out of you. I was able to shower for maybe 5 minutes before I had to tap out and vomit some more. It felt amazing to get clean though.

Recovery:

I tried to get back to work (I’m still remote so this would’ve just been sitting up and being on my computer) 2 days after but couldn’t handle sitting up like that. By Friday (the 4th day) I was much better. I wasn’t nauseous anymore and could sit up and work, pay attention better to the tv/games, and just all around felt more aware and in less pain.

At my 1 week post op I didn’t feel sick when removing the bra and was told I could start wearing zip front sports bras. I could start to lift my arms pretty well and now (at 3 weeks post op) I’m able to lift my arms above my head without any pain or weakness. The 2 week mark is when I’d say I noticed the most leakage from my wounds. While I didn’t tear anything (which is totally normal, just make sure to reach out if it seems excessive!) my bandages did have a bit of blood and fluid, mostly around the under-boob.

My wounds are already fading so well and since most of the wounds are closed up I’m not really leaking anymore. The only pains I have are the occasional ache and a shooting pain you’ll feel in your nipples every now and again, which is good because nerves are reconnecting but really sucks for about half a second.

Having multiple chronic illnesses I think it took me a little longer to get to a place where I felt comfortable resuming tasks. I’m definitely still a little more weak than usual and can’t push myself as far as I usually do. I’ll try to add more info as I remember it and share any questions that come my way!

Overall I’m super happy with the results and the few days of throwing up (which is my personal hell tbh I can stand a lot but vomit is the last of it) were worth it looking back.

#went from a 32GG to what seems like a 32D but I'm still healing!#breast reduction #reduction surgery #personal #chronic illness #spoonie

18 notes · View notes

abused-sides · 4 years

Text

Willingly Shackled [Whumptober 2020]

Note: I’m doing whumptober as a series. Check out the tag #whumptober 2020 v on my blog to read in order. Also on ao3.

Prompt: No. 4: Running Out Of Time [Caged]

Synopsis: Styx works with Virgil.

Trigger warnings: Cults, gaslighting/manipulation, restraints, kidnapped, lots of non-sexual but just as non-consensual touching, humiliation, treating people like property, blood, knives, violence/beatings, a person in a cage, let me know if I missed anything

Word count: 1706

A/N: This probably took twice as long to write as it needed to because I kept stopping to wince and procrastinate lmao

October 2nd. 7:25 pm.

Janus expected Virgil to lose his fight after Styx humiliated him, but if anything, that humiliation made him more fierce, more angry. He fought every order Styx gave him, defying him until he wasn’t able to anymore- whether that was due to physical or mental exhaustion -and the next time Styx visited, they started from the beginning.

Styx, like his leader, began with manipulation to get Virgil to do what he wanted.

He had crouched one day, beckoning Virgil over like a dog. “Are you really not tired of making things so hard for yourself? We’re not letting you out, so you might as well just accept it. Maybe you won’t be in those chains anymore. Just ask Janus— Up those stairs, life is much better. You’re lucky to have been chosen. If you just let yourself, you could be part of it.”

Virgil covered his blistering ankles and pressed himself into the corner. “Janus left you for a reason, you psychotic fuck,” he snapped. “I’d rather die than be your pet.”

He sighed. “Janus?” He looked at him tiredly. “Will you tell him?”

Janus swallowed and pursed his lips. “He’s not wrong, Virgil,” he said quietly. “It’s better if you listen.”

“It’s more than better. Don’t you want to go outside again? To walk around freely? To eat whenever you want? You can essentially have your life back, Virgil, if you just listen. You won’t have to work anymore. Doesn’t that sound better? No more gross motels.”

“What, in exchange for being your slave?” Virgil spat. “I’m fine right here.”

When that didn’t work, he once again followed Bates’ lead and resorted to violence.

Virgil screamed as Styx’s knife carved lines in his back. His binder, splattered with blood, was tossed to the side, his chest pressed to the stone floor.

“Come on!” Styx shouted over Virgil’s cries, his blade a nonstop motion. “What do you say? I’ll stop when you admit it!”

Virgil’s nails cracked and broke as he dragged them down the stone, his screams growing louder. Styx slid the knife around to his side and dug in deeper, twisting his wrist.

“What do you say?”

Virgil grit his teeth. Styx cut deeper, and Virgil’s eyes rolled back, his body falling limp. Janus hid a smile.

“Fuck!” Styx used Virgil’s binder to wipe his knife clean and shoved it in his sheath, tossing the binder on one of the filing cabinets. “Remus!”

The door creaked open and shut, Remus hurrying down the steps. Styx climbed off his seat on Virgil’s waist and stepped over him.

“Make sure he doesn’t bleed out,” he grumbled as he shouldered past Remus.

Remus flipped his backpack around and pulled out a Ziploc bag filled with latex gloves. He pulled on a pair and grabbed a cloth, grimacing as he pressed at various places on Virgil’s back.

“So you’ve become the doctor.” Janus’ voice came out rough, raspy. “How’d that happen?”

Remus shrugged, eyes on Virgil’s cuts. “I’m the least squeamish. Bates has gotten… More enthusiastic, than he was when you left. A lot of our staff can’t handle it anymore. I come in for anything passed some bruising and broken bones.”

Janus hesitated. “Are you happy?”

Remus pulled a water bottle of his backpack and drizzled it all over Virgil’s back and side. He dabbed all over until the blood was gone and the cuts were cleaned. His eyebrows pinched as he sewed up the cut in Virgil’s side, and some of the deeper ones on his back. He scooped up antibiotic ointment and rubbed it carefully all over his back, then held him upright while he wrapped him in gauze with one hand.

Remus slipped Virgil’s shirt back on and leaned him against the wall. The handcuffs clicked around the pipes, the padlocks on the chains that trapped Virgil’s legs.

“I missed you,” Remus said quietly, not looking at Janus. “I’m sorry you’re back.”

He started towards the stairs, but when he passed Janus, Janus called his name. He looked at him questioningly. “If I don’t get something to drink soon, I’m gonna fucking pass out. Can you tell Bates I’m complaining?”

Remus’ eyes flicked to the door. He knelt in front of Janus and pulled another water bottle out.

Janus’ eyes widened. “I don’t want to get you in trouble.”

“That’s not something for you to worry about. Open.”

Janus obeyed, and Remus took his chin between his fingers. He gave Janus water slowly, with breaks in between, until half the bottle was gone.

“Just keep doing what you’re doing,” Remus said in a hushed voice. “He’s happy with you. Things are gonna get better soon.”

Janus grimaced. “Thank you, Remus.”

Remus watched him for a moment, before hurrying out of the room.

Styx tried the physical route a few more times, but when it was clear Virgil wouldn’t break, he snapped.

Janus flinched as he dropped the whip. He grabbed Virgil by the back of his neck and forced him to the ground, forehead pressed to the stone.

“You can keep denying it if that makes you feel better,” he hissed in Virgil’s ear. “But that doesn’t change anything. You’re mine. The second we picked you up from that shithole, you belonged to me. This?” Styx grabbed Virgil’s collar and yanked it back until Virgil gagged. “This marks you as mine. You fight that for the rest of our lives if you have to, but you better get used to being with me.”

Janus watched it happen.

He watched Virgil’s eyes cloud over, watched the sobs rip from his throat. His fists unclenched, and his glare faded.

No. Janus’ eyes widened, his heart hammering. Please don’t.

“And what do you say?” Styx clearly said it on autopilot, already standing without expecting a response.

“Thank you, master.”

Janus’ chest squeezed hard enough to hurt.

Styx circled to Virgil’s front with a surprised chuckle. “If I knew all you needed was some proof, I would have saved a lot of time! Up!”

Janus blinked away tears as Virgil swayed and struggled to his knees, back straight.

Styx curled his hands in Virgil’s hair and grinned. “And just like that, you’ve earned dinner. Was that so hard, pet? Speak.”

“No,” Virgil mumbled. “I’m sorry.”

“No, what?”

Janus looked away.

“No, master.”

“Good boy! Looks like Janus is finally rubbing off on you. I knew bunking you two was the right decision.”

Janus’ stomach lurched with the urge to throw up. You’re destroying him. You’re a coward and it’s hurting him.

Styx chained Virgil back up and left. After a while, Janus cleared his throat.

“How, um… How are you feeling?”

Virgil looked at him incredulously. “I’m great. Was thinking of taking a nap.”

“You should.” Janus stared at the ground. Fear squeezed his chest, it was getting hard to breathe. “You need to rest. It’ll help keep your strength up.”

“I don’t know how much of that I have left,” he mumbled.

You’re killing him.

Janus wracked his mind for something to say that would change his mind, and came up with nothing. They didn’t speak again that day.

October 7th. 3:02 am.

Janus groaned and cracked his eyes open as a pair of footsteps descended down the stairs. Something creaked and scraped, occasionally thunking.

“What now?” Virgil almost whimpered.

Janus frantically blinked the sleep away. Styx waved at him cheerfully and continued into the room. Something crashed— Janus’ head whipped back to the stairs, where Remus braced himself against a large dog cage.

Janus’ heart dropped.

“Come on, Remus, hurry up. Fuck, be careful with that, it was expensive!”

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

The cage grated horribly as Remus pushed it across the room. Styx pulled a key out of his pocket and unlocked Virgil’s ankles.

He snickered and ducked as Virgil kicked wildly. “YOU’RE NOT FUCKING PUTTING ME IN THERE!”

He hissed in pain as Styx gripped his blistered ankle, arching his back. “Down, boy,” Styx laughed. “This is appropriate, don’t you think? A nice little reminder that you belong to someone now. To me, in case you forgot.”

This is sick. Janus’ mouth was full of cotton. This is too far. You have to stop.

Styx unlocked Virgil’s wrists and grabbed him around the waist as Virgil broke for the door. Virgil thrashed and screamed while Styx dragged him out of the way. Remus pushed the cage into the corner and opened the door.

“DON’T!” The cage rattled as Virgil kicked it, nearly knocking Styx off balance. “DON’T YOU FUCKING DARE! LET ME GO!”

Janus shrunk in on himself and squeezed his eyes shut.

“Remus, help me!” Styx snapped.

Virgil’s protests dissolved into animalistic screams and wails. The next time Janus looked, the cage door was chained shut, Virgil crammed inside with not even space to turn around.

Styx crouched in front of him. “This is only temporary, I promise. You can get your freedom back when you learn to be a good boy, like Janus.” He held his arms out, palms up. “Do I get a thank you?”

Virgil glared at him, tears running down his face. Janus’ skin crawled, dread seeping through. Please don’t.

“Thank you, master.”

Styx’s lips curled into a grin. “Good boy.”

He and Remus left, the door slamming behind them. Janus’ cuffs tugged as his wrists as he pressed himself against the wall. His eyes stared stubbornly out the dirt-crusted windows, refusing to look to his left, refusing to see the emptiness in Virgil’s eyes.

After a long time, after Janus’ eyes had glazed over and Virgil’s sobbing had faded to sniffles and the occasional uncomfortable groan, he asked quietly, “Are you still there?”

Virgil drew in a shaky breath. “I don’t know.”

Janus’ bottom lip wobbled.

“Why are you crying? You’re fine. You have it way better.”

“You’re wrong,” he whispered.

Go on. Lie to him. Tell him it’s better to fight, that it might work, that he might get out. Encourage him to put himself through more pain so you don’t lose hope. Tell him that being forced into a cage is better than being willingly shackled.

“We’re getting out of here.” Janus leaned his head against the wall. “I promise.”

Kofi and commissions, 1 coffee = 300 words of your prompt

#whumptober2020 #no.4 #running out of time #caged #sanders sides #fic #whumptober 2020 v #virgil writes #virgil sanders #janus sanders #sympathetic deceit #virgil #janus #whump #angst

26 notes · View notes

mandelene · 4 years

Note

I loved your latest chapter - Alistair might be one of my favourite characters so it’s great to see him in a fic! Can I send in a request of France worrying about England for once? I know that happened in the fic but why not?

Thanks so much! And I’m happy to oblige :D

House Arrest

Word Count: 1235 (a longer one since I’ve been slow with posts)

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“…To work?”

Arthur’s hasty escape route to the front door gets thwarted by Francis, who has both hands on his hips and doesn’t look the least bit pleased. He thought if he left early, Francis wouldn’t notice that he had managed to slip away.

Francis snatches his car keys out of his left hand and steadies a firm glare at him. “Oh, really? After you were up coughing all night? Do I have to remind you that you had a temperature of a hundred and two degrees? So, what gave you any indication that you’re well enough to be leaving the house this morning?”

“I’m fine. I’ve gone to work with worse—it’s just a virus,” Arthur says, clearing his throat and inwardly cringing at the mucus he can feel making its way down to his chest.

“Think about your patients.”

“I won’t infect them. I’ll wear a mask and gloves. I’m cautious. Can I have my keys back now?”

Francis clicks his tongue and hides his keys behind his back. “But you can’t work effectively with a fever. Please, just stay home and rest.”

“I’ll be fine. I’ll be back in time for dinner,” Arthur reasons, holding out his hand. “Give them back. I’m going to be late.”

“You’re impossible, you know that? Do you want to make yourself worse? Why are you so opposed to the idea of taking a sick day?”

“Because I don’t need to take the day off.”

At that, Francis presses a cold hand to his forehead and shakes his head in disbelief. “You’re still burning up!”

“Yes, well, viruses don’t tend to disappear within the span of a few hours. In fact, they typically run their course in five to ten days.”

“Don’t be condescending. Stay home and go back to bed.”

Arthur ignores his hysterics and pulls his phone out of his pocket, searching for his Uber app.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting a taxi since you won’t give me my keys back.”

Francis balls his hands up into fists and releases a frustrated growl. He looks like he’s going to argue some more, but then he takes a deep breath and sighs, giving up. He hands over the keys at long last and turns away with a disappointed expression. “Do what you want. I don’t care anymore.”

That stings…But Arthur doesn’t waste any more time in case Francis decides to change his mind again. He swings the front door open and hurries to the car, making sure to keep his gaze down so that he doesn’t have to see the scowl his husband is almost certainly directing at him. The truth is, he hates feeling unproductive and useless when he has responsibilities. He would much rather attempt to work than lie in bed for several days. Besides, while he does feel fairly unwell, he’s soldiered through worse. This is nothing more than an upper respiratory infection, and he’ll be damned if he lets something so trivial slow him down.

Francis will forgive him eventually. He always does.

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

All right. Maybe he underestimated this virus just a tad…

The drive home is agonizing, mostly because of his splitting headache but also because he’s chilled to the bone. The sun is out and there’s only a mild breeze, but he’s absolutely freezing and feels as though it must surely be the middle of winter. He wants to curl his hands around a steaming cup of tea.

He can’t let Francis see him like this—he’ll be frantic with concern, and the last thing Arthur wants is to have to endure his doting. As long as he takes a fever reducer and keeps hydrated, he’ll be fine. It’s nothing he can’t handle or take care of by himself.

Luck seems to be on his side for once, thankfully. When he steps into the foyer, he hears Francis in the kitchen, preparing dinner.

“Arthur? Is that you?” he hears his husband call him from the kitchen.

“No, it’s a burglar!”

“Oh, how very funny!” Francis scoffs. “Dinner’s almost ready!”

“I’ll be there in a minute, I’m just going to get settled!”

“Okay!”

He slips out of his shoes and coat before rushing upstairs to clean up and make himself slightly more presentable. One glance in the bathroom mirror reveals that it’s going to take a lot to convince Francis he isn’t suffering from an astronomical fever. He splashes his pale complexion with cold water, takes some acetaminophen from the medicine cabinet, and changes into casual clothes. He attempts to brush his hair, but he doesn’t think he looks any less bedraggled.

A coughing fit attacks him, and he grips the edge of the sink to brace himself against the heaving. By the time he’s finished, his lungs and chest feel like they’re physically on fire.

A gentle knock on the bathroom door makes him jolt, and before Arthur can respond, Francis invites himself in.

“You’ve gone and made yourself worse, haven’t you?” Francis immediately accuses him. He secures the palm of his right hand onto Arthur’s forehead before he can duck. “Are you trying to run yourself into the ground? That’s it—I’ve had it! Go to bed! I can’t even bear to look at you!”

“Francis, I—”

“No, no! I don’t want to hear any excuses. Your pride is going to kill you someday!” Francis continues to shout. He steers him into their bedroom, pulls their duvet back, and pushes him onto the mattress. “You’re going to have dinner in bed, and then you’re going to take some cough syrup and go to sleep. You have no say in the matter!”

Well, he doesn’t have any other choice but to comply…for now. He wrinkles his nose when Francis sticks a thermometer in his mouth. He can’t stand being coddled. Ever. He’d rather perish.

“See? It’s much better when you’re quiet, mon amour,” Francis says before placing a kiss on his hot forehead. “You’re boiling! I’m taking you to the doctor’s first thing in the morning.”

Arthur shuts his exhausted eyes and mumbles around the thermometer, “Francis, I’m a doctor, in case you’ve forgotten. I’ll be fine.”

“Oui, some doctor you are that you can’t even care for yourself! You’re not leaving this bed for the rest of the week—I don’t care if I have to tie you down to the bedpost! Now rest!”

Only Francis could manage to make the word “rest” sound like a threat. When the thermometer beeps, he takes it from Arthur and announces, “A hundred and three! A hundred and three!?!”

“I heard it the first time you said it…”

“You are very fortunate that I vowed to be with you in sickness and in health because otherwise, I would have killed you already. I love you, but you’re an idiot!” Francis huffs as he leaves the room to bring him food, water, and a cold compress.

Arthur feels tempted to get up to prove that he’s, indeed, fine, but then his worn muscles sink into the bed. The white noise of the ceiling fan lulls him, and he drifts off.

As promised, in the morning, Francis drags him to a clinic, where he undergoes a chest x-ray against his will and learns he has pneumonia. He is prescribed bed rest, fluids, and prophylactic antibiotics.

Francis places him on house arrest for a whole week.

It’s the longest week of Arthur’s life.

#hetalia #aph england #aph france #aph fruk #drabbles #francis worrying about arthur #yes it's 1:30 AM and i have no shame lol

24 notes · View notes

medicatemedrmccoy · 4 years

Text

Check-up

For the anon ask yesterday, again, thank you for the ask! :) I think my fluff machine might be broke at the moment but I hope you enjoy it anyway.

Why am I incapable of writing short drabbles?

1885 words - Leonard x Reader

You walked slowly through the corridor, down the familiar hallways towards medical. You had put off going to medbay for as long as you could physically stand it.

Unfortunately your simple runny nose had turned into a full blown, bone rattling cough that you could no longer ignore, especially at night while it kept you awake, accompanied by a low grade fever that was giving you the chills.

Your steps got slower and slower as you approached the bright lights of medbay along with the beeping of various machines. You could feel your heart begin to beat faster as your stomach churned and your throat start to go dry, only irritating it further as you gave as much of a muted cough as you could into your sleeve, trying not to draw attention to yourself.

Your courage had all but faded as the doors to the medbay suddenly opened wide, startling you as you caught a glimpse of various doctors and patients milling around.

You quickly ducked into the closest hallway, hoping to get away and hide before anyone saw where you were headed. You thought you had made a clean getaway since no one seemed to notice you, except for one sharp pair of hazel eyes you hadn’t realized had caught you at the last second.

“Dammit!” You muttered to yourself, leaning back against the cool wall, you closed your eyes and tried to steady your breathing. You tried to take some deep breaths but your lungs wouldn’t let you as you began to cough once more, leaning over with your hands on your knees as your eyes watered.

“Well now, that doesn’t sound very good.” A quiet voice said from closer than you were expecting. Your eyes shot open as you started quickly, standing up straight as you stared into the hazel eyes of a very concerned Leonard.

“Len.” Was all you managed to choke out as another round of coughs racked your frame from the sudden movement.

“Y/N? What’s going on? Why don’t you come inside so we can get that looked at. You sound terrible!” Leonard began to fuss lightly with a slight huff at how far you had let this ailment go before coming to see him. He went to put his hand on your elbow to gently usher you into medbay.

As soon as you felt Leonard’s touch, you froze stock still, feet firmly planted on the floor so that not even god himself could’ve moved you. You tried to speak but nothing came out, not even a cough, which surprised you.

Leonard misstepped slightly as he went to help you into medbay, not expecting to meet your sudden resistance. Quirking and eyebrow at you he gave you a once over and before he spoke, he met your eyes. He’d seen that look of fright in a certain blonde haired captain before.

“Tell you what. Meet me at your quarters in ten minutes, alright?” Leonard said as he moved his hand from your elbow to your shoulder, squeezing gently. You briefly wondered if Leonard could read minds and that was how he knew everything.

You swallowed slowly, as you looked up at Leonard, wincing slightly as your raw throat protested. You gazed into his eyes and his frustration that was apparent with his former outburst was all but gone from his eyes that were now gentle and held concern.

The only thing you could do was nod. You knew Leonard was being nice so he didn’t scare you off, you knew all too well what might happen if you refused. You remembered many times when Jim would come running into your quarters, trying to hide from the hypo wielding doctor and it never turned out in the blondes favor. You still remember the red welts on Jim’s neck and the hours of wincing and grumbling that followed.

You quickly did an about face, not looking back as Leonard made his way inside his medbay, no doubt to gather some supplies. Your feet carried you defeatedly back to your quarters. You hated the one on one attention but you hated the medbay more.

Sighing as you punched in your keycode, you prepared yourself the best you could as you sat on the sofa, bouncing your leg and coughing into your elbow as you waited for Leonard to show.

The doctor didn’t keep you waiting long, you could hear him punching in your code and you sat up a little straighter in your seat. The door quietly swished open and Leonard stepped inside with his medkit and stethoscope around his neck.

He gave you a small, reassuring smile as he sat his medkit on your small coffee table before taking a seat himself next to you. You started to feel warm, and you didn’t think it was the fever.

“I’m sorry.” You blurted quickly as Leonard looked up from adjusting his tricoder, not interrupting you but encouraging you to continue as he raised his eyebrows in surprise.

You gave a breathy sigh as you continued. “Normally I’m not like this, I come to my physicals and everything but sometimes with more invasive stuff it comes back up and I can’t help it.”

You realized how confusing you sounded as the words seemed to tumble out of your mouth and probably figured it needed even further explanation as you saw the slight confusion flit in Leonard’s eyes for a brief moment at what “it” could be.

Taking a small breath, you continued before Leonard could interrupt your small moment of bravery. “I’d rather not go into details but let’s just say that my doctor I had while I was growing up lost his license for malpractice on his younger patients.” You winced slightly as you finished, thinking back on the memories.

Leonard sat still for a moment, his hands frozen in place on his tricoder as the implication of your words sunk in, the space between his eyebrows narrowed as his face flashed a brief scowl of disgust before smoothing out once more.

“You know I’d never do anything you don’t want me to right? And neither would any of my staff if I have anything to say about it.” Leonard said gently as he took your trembling hand into his that you didn’t even realize was shaking and gave it a small squeeze of reassurance.

“I know.” You wheezed out slightly, trying to suppress a cough as you tried to keep your emotions in check. “I know no one on board here wouldn’t, but I still can’t get past it sometimes.” You replied quietly, your voice small.

Leonard pursed his lips for a moment before patting your hand gently and grabbing his tricoder.

“We’ll talk more about that later, alright? Let’s get you feeling better first.” Leonard said as he squeezed your hand again gently. He then angled himself to better be able to run his tricoder over you. You nodded your permission, wanting to get this over with.

Your previous confession had seemed to exhaust you even further. You were glad that Leonard was choosing to wait for the discussion, you were too tired tonight.

Leonard worked quickly, seeing the tiredness in your posture. He ran the tricoder over your chest and along your back. His expression got more grim as he checked your lymphs and used his stethoscope to listen to your lungs.

“So how long have you been sick Y/N? You’ve passed a simple cold and gone all the way straight to pneumonia.” Leonard’s expression set in a slight scowl as he replaced his stethoscope around his neck with a quiet click.

“Uhm, maybe last week? The cough only started a couple days ago.” You said softly, trying not to encourage the doctors anger, you could see the vein in his forehead starting to bulge slightly.

“Dammit, Y/N. You should have said something sooner. We could have gotten to it quicker, so now it’s going to take longer… where did you even get pneumonia?” Leonard started to rant quietly as he fixed up a couple hypos.

You knew he was trying his best not to get upset, and you really couldn’t blame him. You’d probably be angry too if you had to deal with people dodging medical attention on a constant basis and making their symptoms worse on top of it.

You also knew where you got the pneumonia, and that person had sworn you to secrecy. So now you risked the wrath of the doctor if you lied or letting down a friend and you were debating on which was worse.

Unfortunately for you, or fortunately, depending on how you looked at it, Leonard was too good at his job. Before you could even answer, he knew by your hesitation.

Leonard sighed deeply and pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Jim. I’m gonna kill him. I should have known when you two canceled movie night. You never pass up an opportunity to torture me with old movies.”

“What can I say?” You smiled softly and shrugged. “Torturing you is half the fun of movie night.”

“I’m going to let that slide on account of your being sick.” Leonard said with a small sigh. “Now let’s get this started.”

You eyed the hypos warily and Leonard seemed to sense your unease.

“I wouldn’t give you anything without explaining it first. You know that right? I’m going to take care of you.” Leonard asked as he looked over at you, watching you nod. You knew he never would but shots of any kind still made you nervous.

“This one is a steroid and this one is an antibiotic. It’ll be a good start for now and hopefully help you breathing a little easier.” Leonard said as he rubbed your neck softly with his thumb before pressing the hypo gently to your neck.

Leonard was done almost as fast as you could blink and was then pulling you over gently across the couch. You didn’t protest, you felt exhausted down to your bones and happily laid across the warm spot that Leonard previously occupied.

“You rest here for a bit and I’ll be back soon to make you something to eat. I have another quick matter to attend to.” Leonard said with slightly narrowed eyes as he put a pillow behind your head and covered you with a blanket from the back of the couch.

You knew that matter was Jim and you couldn’t help but smile softly as you watched Leonard pack up his medkit. He kissed the top of your head gently before making his way out the door.

You quickly dug around in your pant pocket for your communicator, making yourself cough in the process. You quickly flipped it open and sent a 911 message to Jim. He’d know what it meant and you could only hope that he would read it in time before Leonard reached the bridge but you doubted the warning would do much good.

Taking a deep wheezy breath, you settled on the couch, already thankful that you could already breathe a little easier, you settled into a light doze, waiting for Leonard to return.

#star trek #star trek 2009 #star trek aos #star trek alternative original series #Leonard McCoy #Leonard Bones McCoy #leonard x reader #reader x leonard #mccoy x reader #leonard mccoy x reader #reader x leonard mccoy #reader x mccoy #leonard McCoy drabble #bones mccoy

153 notes · View notes

sierrabinondo · 3 years

Text

2020

damn my last tumblr post is the last day of woodland creatures, did i not do a 2019 wrap up?? i feel like i did. oh well lmao

so, arguably the most tumultuous year in modern history (at least, american history- all pandemic and political events considered) is about to come to a close. it was very not fun experiencing a pandemic as millions lost their loved ones to covid. i was part of the 20% of people that became unemployed as a result of the economy taking a huge dump. i would not want to experience this same year again if it meant that every life lost could be saved. with the year i was given, i made the best out of it that i could.

like every other person on this earth (except for where the virus was already spreading), this year started out normal as hell for me. i was hating my job but chugging through each week, with the occasional show to worry about and then planning our band’s 2020 release plans. despite my salaried job, i was barely making enough to put anything away in savings, forthcoming disney trip aside. i really felt like i was putting in all this work at a full time job just to barely stay afloat and it grated at my soul. i don’t dream of labor, and i only take jobs like this because nothing i am passionate about truly makes money and the marketing jobs i would actually care about are never available to me/never come to fruition after submitting myself for consideration.

disney was a huge highlight of my year despite being deathly sick. i keep wondering if i had covid (i never figured it out), but it sure as hell felt like it. i feel like if i did have it i would have passed it on to jeremiah and his family but i didn’t. i could still kinda taste, but not smell because i had the worst sinus infection i ever had in my entire fucking life. like i know i get them a lot but really, holy shit. i really had it bad. it started when we were in the studio the 2nd to last weekend of february on the last studio day. i had to go back to the studio several months later because i was that unsatisfied with how the vocals came out. i didn’t want to fuck up these releases and have my performance be mid so i was willing to pay to have to re-do everything. i assumed if this was like any other sinus infection, it would go away in a week.

lmao.

i had that infection for THREE WHOLE FUCKING WEEKS. i played a show with that monster sinus infection, and went to disney with it. i went two weeks without meds because i really was convinced it would go away on its own. before we left for disney i finally got antibiotics at urgent care and couldn’t drink most of the trip which sucked. but that finally did the job, and the infection waned when we returned from disney. despite being physically weak, in pain (there was one friday my body pains were so horrible that jeremiah contemplated taking me to the hospital), and leaking snot all over my sleeves the entire trip (LIKE IT WAS THAT UNCONTROLLABLE. I HAD NEVER GONE THROUGH THAT MANY PACKS OF TISSUES IN MY LIFE. I WAS LEAKING SO MUCH I HAD TO LOCATE THE BABY CHANGING STATION IN MAGIC KINGDOM. IT WAS LIKE A SECRET STERILIZED TROVE OF HAND SANITIZER, WIPES, TISSUES AND BABY OIL.) i had an amazing time at disney. and it was my first time going with a significant other so it was incredibly fun. it was also a wonderful opportunity to spend time with his family. the only very not fun part was missing our nephew in the main street parade because some bozos fucked up the info they gave my sister-in-law and we were out walking around when his high school band had actually marched earlier than we thought.

it’s funny, because that weekend after we returned was the last weekend of “freedom” everyone had before lockdown. we were weary of covid while in florida but still living it up on vacation. at that time, there had only been 3 cases in orlando. 3!!!! i had plans to go to a party once home but i cancelled only because i still wasn’t completely out of the woods and 100% well again. i felt so bad cancelling because it was for my friend’s party and she never really did parties usually :( and i thought it wouldn’t be a good idea considering i may or may not have had covid.

then... the following week came.

monday we got a weird email from our CEO saying there was going to be salary cuts and that it was essential for the company to survive a downturn. i pouted but my parents consoled me saying it was better than nothing; maybe look for a new job. and then- i got the nothing! a day or two later, i was let go. and i could tell my manager was absolutely not souped to be giving me this call at all. she literally prefaced it like, “this sucks, but-” and gave me the news. and i was utterly devastated, sobbing controllably, because i was just scraping by on this income to begin with. and i had JUST, finally, received health insurance through this job. i was asked to continue working through friday the 20th, which i would be paid for, and then i would have to return my laptop and any other work materials (like printouts and promo stuff) i had possession of.

that day and the days following i had coworkers calling me or emailing me telling me they were so sorry. i was the first to be let go, and they were kind enough to extend words of encouragement to me. clients i worked closely with, a couple of them around my age, assured me that i could use them as a reference. many of my colleagues were my higher-ups, but were very down-to-earth people. one call that stuck out to me was from my colleague sarah.

sarah was candid with me and said, “y’know how i was unemployed for 6 months?” i knew this well though we had only worked together for a year and a half; it was an important part of her path to where she was in her career now and why she chose it. she continued, “those were the best 6 months of my life.”

and i would come to find out that yes, me too being unemployed was the best fucking time of my entire goddamn adult life.

when i posted i was officially unemployed i had an outpouring of support from my friends, and received enough animal crossing commissions to pay one month’s rent. the first day i finally felt peace was when i was sitting on my porch on an abnormally warm march day playing animal crossing following my last day at my company. it was like the universe was giving me a hug and telling me everything was going to be all right.

what would come was a pretty chaotic couple of months. jeremiah, my roommate and i would stay up until 3 am either watching anime or playing video games, subsequently sleeping until 11 am or noon. pair having fun, drinking (mostly me lmao) and lounging about with the scary realization that thousands of people every day were dying of covid and it could be my high-risk parents. i would cry at night and be so fucking scared. my sibling would tell me my family was being reckless, running unnecessary errands, and whenever my dad showed up to drop off food or necessities i would cry because i couldn’t hug him. i’m even getting choked up thinking about it now. and it was a fear that returned during the second spike around the holidays because it is the loss i fear the most.

amidst this really horrible time, i would play games almost every other night online with my friends and it was so much fucking fun because all of us were either unemployed, furloughed or working from home. we’d laugh so goddamn hard our voices were hoarse. one of my favorite memories is playing quiplash with the creatureposting gang and then my big friends from college. and a really fun night in particular was SIIE release night, i popped a bottle of champagne and got absoluely zonked lmao. every few days i would have something to look forward to, some sort of virtual plans with my friends. this would continue until july when my friends were slowly starting to go back to work.

most of my early quarantine days were as follows: wake up, watch anime, work on commissions for most of the day, order extremely good food for delivery, play video games, and then bed. at one point commissions became so overwhelming i started to get slower at churning them out. though this became a daunting project, WOW it really forced me to become a better artist. and this year i got to spend so much more time drawing, which was fantastic.

one thing i DID NOT spend a lot of time on at all? ugh. MUSIC. FUCKING MUSIC. i barely touched my guitar, stopped writing lyrics after july, and barely completed the instrumentals for about 3 songs. the only thing i consistently practiced was singing (because i would literally curl up and die if i didn’t). do you have any idea how much i blabbed to my therapist in 2019 about how much i would get done if i didn’t work full time and could just focus on my creative endeavors? and then life HANDED that shit to me on a silver platter the following year. i really did nothing insane musically with my time. and now i am really kicking myself for it. if i think about it, it was mostly because i was so exhausted from doing AC commissions, and partly because i was really intimidated about the prospect of struggling through songwriting. now i really wish that i had tried.

one thing i started doing this year was streaming. i originally planned to just do it for fun, because i am horrible at video games and i really didn’t expect much out of it. i thought it would be cool if my friends could watch me play animal crossing. and then i unfortunately learned that this 3rd expensive pasttime is actually really, really, really fun. i started to spend half my week streaming and it led me to either getting closer to some online friends i only talked to a lil previously and making new friends. viewers would ask me if i continue to stream after the pandemic was over, and i enthusiastically assured them i would. and i meant it. even with the difficulties of returning to work and the band playing shows again considered, i really wanted to. i don’t get invited to things anymore anyway, so fuck it if that’s what i stand to lose lmao.

when the curve flattened in jersey i decided to become lenient again and start meeting with my bandmates. we spent the year trying to finish some new material and chip away at what work we have to do for the full length (yes, a full length). we had plans to tour this year and it sucks that fell through. we also had plans to do so much more content during the pandemic and we faltered under the stress of... well, existing in a pandemic. we did finally get to drop a new single though, and the difference in hype now vs when we dropped our last work was incredible. i am so thankful we were able to build an audience with nothing new for two years. i still often beat myself up because god every day i look around me, at our peers, and wonder where the fuck we’ve gone wrong to have such a slow build. and even daily just trying to stand out and prove that we have cut our teeth/deserve a chance is so demoralizing. i feel like it’s even worse than before. i literally have to talk to myself out loud, both alone and during interviews lmao, to remind myself that we truly have accomplished so much. and to take in and appreciate the little positive things. because this could all be over in a second. and this won’t be forever. the older we get the more we are risking for this, both time and resources, and it won’t do to let myself get bogged down over my inner competitive voice. but god it’s hard. like even with new music we still didn’t even TOUCH any of the goal numbers we set for ourselves in may. though we did put out less music than we had planned, and we really hope to change that in 2021 forreal.

there was a single we were supposed to put out this year that’s on hold due to some pending assets but goddamn. if we really don’t break some sort of ceiling with this one i don’t know what will. i have the strongest gut feeling about the next single and in my opinion, it’s the best one we’ve had to date. when we play it at shows, the air in the room sometimes shifts. i’m eager to see what the response is and i’m so ready to push it with everything i have.

fuck this is getting so much longer than i planned i have to try to wrap this up lmao.

with our government stimmy money we turned around and got the dog of our dreams. we figured, i’d be home enough to watch him, and it was finally goddamn time. it’s why we moved into a house and not into another apartment. i was so scared meeting the puppy parents, and totally on edge the entire day. we went out to meet the breeder to test my allergies and see how i would react. samoyeds are not 100% perfectly hypoallergenic, but they were often lauded for being so. honestly? i still didn’t feel confident after two hours with the dogs because the pollen out there was bad (one of my WORST allergies) and i had mysterious hives on my arms i couldn’t figure out where they came from. for months jeremiah and my parents had to calm my nerves and remind me i lived with 3 cats before i moved out (i’m more allergic to cats) and that i would be fine. i had to do a lot of work on myself to get out of my own way about being excited about finally owning the dog of my dreams.

this little fucking boy. i couldn’t believe he was real. neither in the pictures i often looked at about 20 times a day on the breeder’s facebook page nor when we went to meet him. and he was truly, truly perfect. our little shithead. when we went to go pick him out, he sat apart from his puppy pile of brothers, sniffing around the room and trying to rip off his ribbon collar. we locked eyes and he fuCKING APPROACHED ME. i could not fathom any other puppy in the room being brawly. this was the one. we could already tell he was a mischevious smartass, because once he untied his ribbon he proceeded to rip off the ribbons of all the other puppies. but he was the cutest, flopping over on his back when you were near to get belly rubs.

ever since we have picked him up he has simultaneously been the biggest joy in our lives and the most source of stress lmao. that first week, and the next couple, werE FUCKING ROUGH. i had a horrible anxiety attack when i couldn’t calm him for bedtime the first saturday he was home and i was loudly sobbing to jeremiah that i couldn’t handle this shit lmao. he was so scared i was having regrets but i am just a fucking anxious wreck and not used to having a DOG!! this is my first dog!!! but while i can remember what life was like before him i cannot imagine going back. the first time he got sick and we took him to the emergency vet i cried so hard. when he is wagging his tail happy to see me and he looks like a fuckin seal because his ears are folded back it is the best feeling. i’m so excited for when he gets older and we’re vaccinated for covid so that we can take him on so many adventures. he is truly the best.

there is so much more i want to say but this is long as shit. this is even painful for me to read lmao. it’s always been for me, a guy with dogshit memory, to remember everything, but so, so much happened. so i’m gonna wrap up the real descriptive stuff with this.

being unemployed allowed me to just experience life. to wake up each day, enjoy the sun in my backyard, have time to try new recipes, go for long walks, GET A DOG, get better at art, get better at singing, spend more time with friends (virtually), bond even harder with my amazing, beautiful boyfriend, create amazing work with my bandmates, improve at video games, connect with people all over the world, and so much more. all my life i let money dictate my every move. i am insanely privileged to have experienced this but when i had to just live within my means off unemployment i did just fine. i once believed i was perpetually indebted to my employer when i was discarded like it was nothing. i can get a job anywhere and be fine. it strengthened my class consciousness and while i have control over my own destiny it is our country that has so royally screwed us of living the lives we should be living. our lives do not revolve around labor. so until we win the fight and get what we deserve, i will be returning to work next month (full time... in commercial real estate.... again), but i will do whatever it takes to replicate the everlasting feeling of joy i felt this year for the rest of my godforsaken life. if that means struggling for 2021 to build up my twitch channel and the band, working 9 hour days and then streaming/writing music for another 4, so be it. i felt from a young age i was not destined to live a normal life and that feeling has stayed with me no matter how much i have tried to play the game of life as i have been told. i finally have the confidence to pave the life i want.

so, if you are here at this very spot because you read everything, thank you. if you are here because you scrolled to see how long this was, here’s the TLDR of my best parts of 2020:

- tapping out cover

- the 2 shows we played lmao, maybe 3 tops

- disneyworld

- ACNH outside on the porch on release day in warm weather

- making banana bread

- learning how to BRINE meats

- watching anime until 3 am, namely the time we watched pokemon journeys until 3 am

-watching so. much. anime.

-watching livestream concerts with my friends (the chon one was a real good time)

-playing jackbox with my creatureposting friends, the volcano saga (if u know u know)

-playing jackbox with my big friends

-the first time we ever had panchos and juanchos

-finally having sushi again after painful cravings and being grumpy

-the first time we had chinese food again after the lockdown began

-hitting the punching bag for the first time in forever (my dad bought me one)

-the first time we had ramen in forever

-surprising joe with cake at his doorstep for his birthday (we thought he would be the only one with a pandemic birthday lmao)

-playing monopoly and wheel of fortune on the switch, surprisingly having fun

-jeremiah’s birthday

-getting PAID for my ART

-writing + recording ONE (1) acoustic demo

-finally finishing the singles, fixing the vocals

-shooting band promos

-unus annus

-meeting samoyeds

-meeting BRAWLY

-streaming except for the times 13 year olds cyberbullied me

-my birthday when my mom got me a terrifying singing birthday candle contraption and my sibling curbstomped the shit out of it (i was literally crying laughing like that kind of noiseless laugh cause you’re laughing that hard)

- getting the stamp of approval from andrew wells and anthony green

-my friends having their first baby!!!

-dying from thanksgiving charceuterie board

-that week i binged ghibli movies on an hbo max trial and did nothing else

-filling the front porch with plants and most of them SURVIVING the fall, possibly winter but we’ll see in 2021 lmao

- (in general) nailing riffs i fucking sing over and over when practicing but prob won’t get down good enough to sing in front of others lmao

-solo inflatable pool hangs

-thursdays with sarah in the fall playing with the puppy

-the release of the first WSA single in two and a half years

-virtual movie night with sarah watching happiest season

-the music video shoots

-brawly experiencing CHRISTMAS

-receiving really thoughtful gifts from jerry and my parents

-deciding i would work towards being a full time streamer to supplement being a musician

13 notes · View notes

lokissweater · 5 years

Text

Little Darling

Soldier!Harry Styles x Reader

Summary: Harry falls in love with the pretty nurse that takes care of him during the war.

Warnings: none my bbys :*

Authors Note: oh my god, the response i got from flower boy was insaaane y’all made me cry happy tears for dAYS LMFAO, but honestly thank you so muchhh, and im so sorry i’m been mf gONE i’ve had this and three more drafts in the works and i never got around to finishing them heheh, anyways enjoy!! and if you’ve sent me a request don’t worry i’m also working on that rn and thanks for sending it in! love u! <3

Word Count: 1,998

You had never met anyone like Harry.

“Patient 113! Patient 113!”

Nurses scurried around the small hospital, hundreds of men injured as you hurried your way to the front desk.

“I’ll take him,” You said quickly. “Bring the other ones in.”

You carefully sat him down and wheeled him across the hectic large room and to an open spot.

The side of his face was bloody, and he remained unconscious as doctors lifted his limp body onto the bed. You quickly grabbed gauzes and disinfectants, ridding of the dirt, sweat, and dried up blood off of his face.

“Patients name?” The doctor asked.

You pulled the dog tag from under his uniform and said, “Harry Styles.”

The doctor pressed a stethoscope to his heart and listened, “We have a pulse.”

He then wiped his forehead in exhaustion. “From the looks of it, he took a blow to the head and fell unconscious, but he’ll be fine.” He then hung the tool around his neck. “He’s all yours now y/n, just clean him up and call me when he wakes.”

“Yes sir.”

Then, you hadn’t thought anything of him. Just another patient you anxiously wanted to save because unfortunately the one before, couldn’t be.

But when Harry awoke, his dazed eyes drifted around the room, and once he regained his senses and actually looked at you, he didn’t hesitate to say that you were the most beautiful little thing he had ever seen.

This, of course, made you roll your eyes and blame it on the antibiotics, but he stood by his word and would even go as far as to request for you if a different nurse came to tend to him.

You had grown to love his unruly hair and sense of humor, but most of all, were his eyes. They reminded you of the trees your grandmother used to grow around her small cabin in the middle of no where, and from time to time would pick a sparkling emerald leaf to place gently in your small palm for good luck.

Now every leaf she had ever given you was stowed away in an old jewelry box inside your attic, brittle and brown. But each time you looked into Harry’s eyes, it was as if your childhood never left, as if the leaves never dried out, and as if your grandmother never died.

You spent a great deal of time taking care of him, and as soon as he recovered he took you out on a date by the river; picking small daisies to card gently behind your ear. It was sweet, his cute dimples evident as he smiled at you. The air was fresh and calm, and the sight of Harry on the grass, palms spread behind him with his head tilted back, sun adorning his features, was a sight hard to forget.

He’d always call you his little darling and made sure you were absolutely happy at all times. You were his sunshine, and it wasn’t hard for him to fall in love with you.

All of this was short lived though when you received devastating news. Harry was to be drafted again, and the area was no where near where you were at the moment, meaning if Harry got hurt you wouldn’t be able to treat him.

And if he died, you wouldn’t know until weeks after.

When he told you, you cried your eyes out while he got down on his knees, hands placed firmly on your arms.

“Little darling, hey, don’t you cry,” He wiped the tears off of your puffy cheeks with one hand and sighed. “I’ll come back to you, I promise you baby, don’t you cry.”

“Harry you could die!-”

“I won’t.” He said firmly. “You really think i’d leave you that easily sunshine? You’re gonna have to chase me to the ends of the earth to even give you a minute by yourself.”

That had made you laugh, and he wrapped his arms around you as he stood back up. “I’ll come back. I’ll write to you everyday a-and send you the very first flower I see. I’ll be back before you know it.”

You only nodded into his chest, a soft smile on your face, “I love you.”

Harry tightened his hold around you and rested his chin on top of your head.

“Tell me again,” He whispered. “I want to hear it one more time before I go.”

Harry kept his word and wrote to you as often as he could, but you still spent each and every day worrying for him and his safety. You had taken note of the increasing amount of men that came piling into the small hospital you worked at, and the injuries only seemed to worsen. You’d ask Harry what was going on in your letters, but he’d write back saying that everything was fine, and ultimately change the subject.

“Our men are dying,” One of the nurses had said to you as she patched up an unconscious soldier, “Many won’t come home.”

That made you sick to your stomach, and it didn’t help when after two years since Harry’s departure, his letters abruptly stopped coming soon after. The last one he had sent was dated a month ago, and it read:

Dear y/n,

How are you my little darling? Are you happy and well? I hope you are. I miss your pretty face.

Something tragic happened. My best mate died on field yesterday, and I have never felt such remorse in my entire life. It’s getting harder to stay alive my love, and when I saw his still body in the dirt, all I saw was red.

But I’m still alive. When I woke up this morning I saw a single daisy in the midst of gravel and mud, and it reminded me of you. You’re surrounded by horrible people and an awful environment but you remain brilliant. I’ve never met anyone like you.

If I don’t make it, just know how much I truly, deeply love you, and you’ve made me the happiest man alive. My days with you are memories I’ll never forget.

See you soon baby.

- HS

Below was a small daisy taped carefully onto the bottom of the page, and you cried looking at it once more before folding the letter back up and stuffing it in the pocket of your uniform.

“Any news?” One of the nurses said. Another sighed and shook her head.

“All radios are down. No one knows a thing.”

“Its been almost a full day,” You mumbled. “I think we’ve lost the war.”

A gloom of realization spread across the room, nurses and doctors with a defeated expression. It was silent, and everyone seemed to zone out until one of your close friends sat herself down on a chair next to you.

“Has he written?” She whispered.

“No. I’m starting to think-”

“Don’t say it,” She scooted closer to you. “He’s okay and you know it. You’re his sunshine, remember?”

You smiled sadly, “I do, but he hasn’t written in a month.”

“Maybe he can’t find paper,” She shrugged. “Or a pen.”

“Maybe he’s-”

“We won! We won the war!”

Everyone abruptly stood, chairs screeching against the tile floor. You quickly ran down the hall along with other nurses and into a different room. Others were already hunched over a small table that held a working radio.

“Our men are coming home!”

Cheers and cries filled the air, and you stood frozen as many wrapped their arms around you in joy.

Word was that the veterans were to return in a train arriving in about an hour, and you wasted no time in slipping on your jacket and running with many others to the station. You couldn’t even be bothered to remove your uniform, the love of your life was finally coming home.

Upon arrival, people were buzzing with anticipation and happiness. Personal space didn’t seem to be a thing as everyone waited for the train to pull in, and once it did, the shouting commenced.

Man after man came hopping out of the train, beaten up expressions but nonetheless with a smile on their faces, yet none of them were Harry. You stood on your tippy toes to get a better look, but you were still overrun by the people in front of you.

You couldn’t help but smile as you saw a woman with two kids clutching onto a soldier next to you, their children’s small arms wrapped around their father’s legs. You thanked your lucky stars that at least they got their happy ending, and pushed yourself through the crowd to get to the front.

It became apparent after a little while though, that you may not have gotten your happy ending. As the area dispersed and became empty, your vision blurred with tears. You couldn’t believe it, you didn’t want to believe it.

He said he’d come back, you thought.

A gust of wind blew through your hair, and you wrapped your arms tightly around yourself for comfort and for warmth. You screwed your eyes shut and tilted your head back, tear drops slipping into your hair. In the midst of feeling the warm sun caress your face, you imagined Harry calling out to you in the distance, calling you his little darling again just like he’d done many times before.

Except you hadn’t.

When you opened your eyes, a tall figure stood a couple feet away from you, and you rid your eyes from the remaining tears to see who it was.

“H-Harry?”

He smiled warmly at you, tears pricking the corner of his eyes.

When he got off the train, the sight of you standing there, wind whirling through your hair with your head tilted back; sun adorning your features and a pained expression, was a sight hard to forget.

But as he looked at you now, doe eyes wide that gleamed of hope and disbelief, the days out on field and the awful deserts meant nothing to him. The days of treterous fear, the cold nights where he felt nothing but alone, meant absolutely nothing to him.

But you, you meant everything to him.

“Hey little darling.” He said gently, fingers reaching out to touch yours. The warmth that radiated from your hand brought him back to reality and reassured him that he wasn’t dreaming.

At his words, you breathed out a laugh and threw your arms around his neck, and Harry in response scooped you up off the ground, taking note of the familiar strawberry scented shampoo you always used.

“I thought you died,” you whispered in his ear.

“Can’t get rid of me that easily baby cakes.” He said playfully, kissing your cold cheek.

You laughed and pulled your head back to look at him. He looked as handsome as you remembered, but he looked so worn out. The bags under his eyes and slow blinking clearly indicated that he was exhausted, and you smiled warmly, softly kissing his cheek.

“Let’s go home.”

Home.

What he’d been waiting for. The place he wanted to share with you, the place where he wanted to wake up and one day find the smell of pancakes and honey smothering your shared bedroom, and maybe, just maybe, with two little hands grabbing at his face to get him to wake up.

He nodded at you then, fingers laced with yours as you walked along the train station. The setting sunlight highlighted Harry’s green eyes; and they were soft, looking out into the streets ahead of you that held nothing but love yet still vigilant, and you were reminded of your grandmother once more.

“Harry?” you called suddenly.

“Yes, little darling?”

“How come you didn’t write to me these last few months?”

He smiled at you lazily and gently brushed your hair over your shoulder, running a soothing hand over your lower back.

“Couldn’t find paper, my love.” He hummed, “Or a damn pen.”

198 notes · View notes

perspective-series · 4 years

Text

Injured Perspective (3/12)

By: @arc852 and @hiddendreamer67

Warnings: Sickness

First Chapter || Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

————————————————————————————-

A lot of thoughts swirled around Virgil’s head as he headed towards Logan’s place. He needed his friend to help him sort this all out. Not that he was going to tell Logan about Roman. Not yet, at least. Not until Virgil made his decision of whether or not to go back. Still though, it would be nice to have a chat with his logical friend. Even if they weren’t talking about the subject matter, being near Logan helped him think more calmly.

As he entered Logan’s area, he called out. “Logan? You here?”

“Hmm?” Logan looked up from his spot at the dining table, fashioned from an old human spectacles case. “Oh, hello Virgil. What brings you to the lower apartments?”

“Just thought I’d visit.” Virgil said with a shrug. He fidgeted with the end of poncho a little bit before forcing himself to still. “Whatcha up to?”

“Not much.” Logan said, adjusting his glasses and letting out a yawn. “I meant to go borrowing earlier, but my energy levels have been less than ideal.”

Virgil gave him a raised eyebrow as he sat down on a spool of thread. “Did you get enough sleep last night?” Virgil asked with concern.

“I had trouble sleeping.” Logan admitted. “It has just been unusually warm in here lately, even for mid-June.”

“Really? I’ve felt fine though.” Virgil hummed. “You sure you’re okay? Do you need me to borrow anything for you?”

“I think I’ll be alright.” Logan assured him, rubbing at his nose. “I have a few preserves. My head feels a bit cloudy, but that’s likely from the lack of sleep and not consuming enough water.”

“Well, just don’t...overwork yourself. I know you tend to do that.” Against Virgil’s wishes. Virgil was worried but he trusted Logan when he said he was alright. So, he let the subject drop for now.

“So, apparently the human on the fifth floor came back tonight. Broke his leg. Won’t be leaving the bed for the next couple of days.” Virgil relayed the information.

“That seems fortunate.” Logan observed, sniffling slightly as he said so. “Borrowing will certainly be easier for you.”

“Yeah, true.” Virgil frowned. “It’s just kind of weird to see. A human practically trapped in his own bed. Not that I’m complaining, of course.”

“You’ve observed him already?” Logan tilted his head. “Were you seen?”

“Of course not.” Virgil lied, feeling guilty but pushing those feelings away. “I was going to grab one last thing but ended up watching the human for a bit instead.” He shrugged.

“Hmm.” Logan swayed slightly in his seat, the dots not quite connecting in his mind. “That’s...odd.”

“What? Why?” Don’t tell him Logan was catching on.

“I don’t know, it just...doesn’t make sense.” Logan groaned, leaning forwards and resting his forehead in his palms. “Are you sure you don’t feel hot? My skin feels as though it might burn any moment.”

Virgil blinked and looked at Logan with even more worry. “That isn’t good. Dude, I think you might be sick.” That was never good. Being a borrower, you barely got sick but if or when you did? It was never good.

“What?” Logan’s voice sounded a bit raspy now, and as he paid attention now his throat felt like it was made of sandpaper. “I’m not sick.”

“Oh, this isn’t good.” Virgil started to pace in worry, completely ignoring Logan’s denial. “This isn’t good, we-we need to find you medicine or something.”

“Virgil, I will be fine.” Logan, despite his words, didn’t stop clutching his head. “I just need to rest and get plenty of fluids. My body will heal on its own.”

“A-Are you sure? Because I can go borrow something.” Virgil offered. He didn’t know what to get but he’d figure it out.

Logan shook his head, vaguely noting how the room shook as he did so. Did it always do that?

“I’ll be alright.” Logan slowly stood to his feet. “I’ll head to bed right now if it will ease you.” Frankly, the idea of bed was sounding rather appealing.

“You better.” Virgil bit his lip. “I’ll let you rest but I’m coming back later to check up on you. So you better actually be resting.”

Logan felt a shiver overcome him for a brief second. “I am certain I shall be asleep. Upon further evaluation I feel...quite exhausted.”

“Okay…” Virgil looked at Logan. “Do you need help getting into bed?”

“Perhaps.” Logan stood in the middle of his living quarters, staring blankly at the wall. “Am I not moving?”

“Oh geez.” Virgil went over to Logan, helping him and slowly moving him over to his mesh of blankets. He carefully set him down in them. “There we go, easy does it.”

Logan mumbled out something resembling a thank-you, his eyelids already drooping as he was guided into bed.

“Get some rest L. I’ll be back later.” Virgil turned and left, walking through the walls once again. He sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. Logan getting sick wasn’t good. They weren’t prepared for this. Borrowers didn’t get sick, humans did.

...Wait. Humans got sick.

And he happened to know a human.

Virgil frowned. He couldn’t believe he was considering it but...if it meant Logan getting better then Virgil would have to take the chance. Of course, he’d also have to be careful. He still didn’t want to reveal Logan to Roman, after all.

But he could...probably do this.

With a sigh, Virgil started on his way back up to the fifth floor apartment.

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

Virgil found himself back on the dresser the next night. He would have been here sooner but...well, he had still been debating with himself if this was even a good idea or not. He still wasn’t sure but if it meant helping Logan then he was willing to give it a try. At least he knew Roman still couldn’t get to him. That was another reason why he waited. He wanted to make sure the other human, Patton, wouldn’t walk in on them.

He looked at Roman but he couldn’t tell if the human was actually sleeping or not. Not after the last two times. So, after a lot of hesitation, and inner thoughts of how he couldn’t believe he was actually doing this, he called out the the human. “R-Roman?” His voice was still quiet, wanting to test first to see if Roman was awake already.

“Virgil?” Roman’s own voice was sleepy, but at the quiet sound his eyes had shot open. Roman had almost fallen asleep waiting for Virgil to come. Roman smiled, waking up as he stared at the tiny person from across the room. “I was beginning to doubt you’d make an appearance tonight.”

“Yeah, well...I figured it, uh, couldn’t hurt.” He lied, knowing it very much could. He wanted to ask his questions and be done with it already but he knew he had to ease into this, lest Roman get suspicious.

“I’m glad.” Roman slowly sat up. “It’s good to see you again.”

“I’d say the same but...then I’d be lying.” Virgil spoke with a shrug and a slight smirk.

Roman’s face furrowed in confusion. “So, if you’re not here for my beautiful complexion, why are you back?”

“Well, someone practically begged me to come back, so I figured I would give you the pleasure to see me again.” Virgil shrugged. He still couldn’t believe he was teasing this human but it was kind of...nice. Fun, even.

“If you say so.” Roman chuckled. Frankly it didn’t really matter why Virgil came back; all that mattered was that he came back at all.

“So…” Virgil was unsure how to bring this up without screaming, hey, my friend is sick how do I help him? “Leg still...broken?” He winced at his own words.

Roman gave him a weird look. “Ah, yes, my leg is certainly still broken. Spent all day in bed lamenting about it. What did you do today, Virgil?”

Virgil shrugged. “I went on a walk.” And worried a lot, about Logan and about this conversation but he didn’t feel the need to mention that. “Nothing much. My life is pretty boring.”

“Well I’m sure it’s more exciting than you let on.” Roman insisted. “Besides, even if that’s all you did, your life would still be more exciting than mine right now.” Well, that wasn’t entirely true; Roman’s life had become pretty exciting with the discovery of a tiny person, but in this instance Roman didn’t think that counted.

“Maybe.” Virgil said with a slight hum. “So, this whole, you stuck in bed thing had me curious about other reasons why you would be stuck in bed. Like, when you guys are...sick? Sick, right?” Virgil said, hoping his mask of not knowing was sickness was was believable.

“What do you mean?” Roman tilted his head. “Are you asking if humans get bedridden from illness as well? Occasionally yes, but it depends on the severity and the affliction.”

“Oh, well, I meant more just being sick in...general? I don’t get sick, so I don’t know what happens.” Virgil continued to lie.

“You don’t get sick?” Roman huffed in jealousy. “You’re very fortunate, then. I know for myself even the common cold will just take me out. Patton has to take care of me, he’s such a lamb. Makes me soup and everything.”

“Soup? What’s that? Does it fix your sickness?” If it did, he’s have to figure out a way to get his hands on some.

“No, not exactly.” Roman admitted. “It just helps the process along because your body needs energy to fight off the sickness and that’s one of the easiest foods to stomach. Not to mention the warmth is so soothing, ugh when I get sick I get the worst bouts of shivering and fevers combined. It’s miserable.”

“So...being warm helps you get better?” Virgil asked, still trying very with this whole charade but also wanting to get as much information as possible.

“I’m not sure, actually.” Roman rested his chin on his palm. “I know you bundle under blankets when you’re sick and drink soup, but I don’t know if that actually helps you get better or just helps you feel better in the current moment. Maybe a bit of both.”

“Oh, well...what does help you get better then? That you know for sure.” He hoped he was still conveying curiosity and not desperation or anything of the like.

“Medicine usually.” Roman thought about it. “Sometimes Antibiotics. Then of course you have to get plenty of rest, drink many fluids, eat food, that sort of stuff. Just generally take care of yourself so your body can take care of the virus. At least that’s what Patton says…” Roman’s gaze suddenly narrowed. “...unless he’s just trying to trick me into taking care of myself.”

“Okay…” The simply taking care of yourself part was fairly easy. Virgil would just have to borrow food and water for Logan but the medicine… “Where can I find medicine?” He asked, not yet realizing how that might give him away.

Roman looked at him for a moment. “I thought you said you didn’t get sick.”

Virgil blinked. Crap. “I-I don’t. I’m just...curious.” Welp, he messed everything up. Good going Virgil.

“Virgil, do you need medicine?” Roman gave Virgil a worried look. Virgil certainly didn’t look sick, but he could be hiding it. Or perhaps he needed it for somebody else instead. “If you do, all you needed to do was ask. I would happily supply you with some.”

That sounded...great, actually. But Virgil was still caught up in not letting Roman know he was lying. “I don’t need medicine. I told you, borrowers don’t get sick.”

“Alright, if you’re sure.” Roman certainly didn’t want to push the issue further, hoping that Virgil would just come to him if he ever did have a need. Instead, his immediate attention was diverted elsewhere. “...Virgil, can I ask you something?”

Virgil tensed. “Wh-What?”

“What’s a borrower?”

There was beat of silence as Virgil processed what Roman had asked before his eyes went wide. It was in that moment he realized how much he had messed up. “N-Nothing! I didn’t say that, I...I uh…” Virgil racked his brain for an excuse but none came to him.

“You seem to be keeping a lot of secrets…” Roman murmured, not entirely aware he spoke out loud.

“No I’m-” Virgil cut himself off, realizing it was useless. So instead, he glared at the human. “Okay, so maybe I am! So what? I’m keeping them for my own safety!”

Virgil sighed, running a hand down his face. “This was a mistake.” Virgil turned to leave.

“Wait!” Roman said hurriedly, sitting up straighter. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you Virgil. I won’t ask any more questions.”

Virgil paused. Ugh, he really should just leave. But...the medicine… “Can someone get better without taking medicine?” Virgil asked, still facing away from Roman.

“...it depends on how sick they are.” Roman’s voice was filled with concern. “Virgil, please just let me help you!”

“I don’t need help from a human!” Virgil yelled at him and with that, he left before he could reveal anything else.

“Virgil, wait!” Roman cried out, wishing he was healed so he could rush over to the dresser. “I- I know you don’t, but- I- come back!”

Of course, as Roman rambled on and on, none of it mattered, because Virgil was gone.

#injured perspective #perspective series #part 3 #human!Roman #borrower!logan #borrower!virgil

80 notes · View notes