#this is from chapter 104.2 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

isotones · 1 year

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my dear my baby yukine, i can't stop getting sad every time i remember you. i feel like things are just too heavy and fucked up for a young boy like him.

he got a terrible life and death, bad luck seems like unable to stop coming to him. once he became a shinki, (un)fortunately, it's a poor god who bestowed him a name. he got a rough life debuting as shinki. but then he realized he did wrong, apologized to yato and hiyori, and promised to be a better shinki for yato. he didn't stop that way. he really does what he promises, he works hard, assists kofuku and daikoku, studies with hiyori, buys his own clothes, practices spells and incantations with kazuma, treats yato better, comes every time he calls him, yet shit keeps happening to him. yato is a pain in the ass. yukine just wants to know!!! please just TALK to him. but the world keeps leaving him out, yato never really communicates clearly with him, he is always left hanging, wandering and wondering alone. i can't really blame him, i can understand how he feels abandoned, betrayed, discriminated, and confused. he promised yato to always guide him, to always prevent him to kill humans, to always remind him his goal as a god of happiness. he was told that father is yato's lifeline, but the other day he found out that yato wants to kill father. what should he do???? aaaaaaa poor yukine. he always takes the pain, the realization, the redemption, the recovery, and the regret all by himself :((

and the latest chapter (104.2) he finally acknowledges that he is angry at his father, yato, and himself, that he wants to break free from those hatred and fix things up, but nobody understands him (and imagine you being yukine and finding out that all this time yato is leaving with kazuma as his shinki).

he wants to live, to love, to be loved. he realizes he did wrong. he apologizes. now he sees the world is once again crumbling in front of his eyes. he turned himself into a wolf ayakashi. he bears those all by himself....... how is the world so cruel? :((

i know people need time and their own to understand and reconcile with their own selves, their past, their problems, like, whatever people do to you or help you do something, you can never fix things if you don't feel and do it yourself, but yukine....... darling you deserve better!!! i'm begging, please adachitoka, make a beautiful ending with my baby yukine (and of course with yatori too), i would never forgive you if you do them otherwise.

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toosicktoocare · 4 years

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I guess here’s a second chapter to my first 9-1-1 fic because almost every ao3 comment was someone asking for a part 2.

Part 1 here!

Eddie’s gone when Buck wakes, the comforting heat at his back replaced with the faint chill of abandoned sheets. He rolls onto his back, a few sharp coughs slipping past his lips, and his hand grazes the empty side of the bed, fingers lightly curling into the rustled blankets.

His other arm drapes over his eyes, the weight pushing back against the headache throbbing at his temples. His skin is hot to the touch, concerning even to him. He didn’t mean to let himself get this bad, he just... Five months, he thinks. Five months lost. Five months spent in a hospital and rehab. Five months falling behind the others.

He groans, coughing harshly, and he lifts his arm, rolling his head toward the empty side of the bed. He and Eddie... They... His thoughts are jumbled, and he wants to blame the fever, but he can’t shake this hint of a feeling that there’s something else, something different, something he should chase.

Sitting up jostles his lungs, and he brings his curled fist to his mouth, coughing over and over into it until he’s borderline light-headed from the sheer, trembling force alone. His vision is slightly hazy, but he can still make out the digital clock on Eddie’s bedside table reading 2:07 AM.

He’s been out since 8, yet he doesn’t feel like he’s rested at all. He feels positively terrible, every inch, every crevice of his body hurts, a dull, nagging pain that makes his movements slow, sluggish even. He’s blood feels as if it’s coated in ice, yet his face is burning hot. It’s incredibly uncomfortable, and he’s sure the medicine he took before hasn’t even touched his fever.

He swings his legs over the bed, leaning both elbows on his knees with a shaking sigh. “Shit,” he whispers out into the empty room. The small motion left everything spinning, and he takes a moment to blink away the dizziness coating his vision. Getting to his feet yields similar results, but he moves through the swaying, snagging Eddie’s comforter to drape around his shoulders before he shuffles out of the room in search of Eddie.

He’s quiet when he leaves the room, muffling a few coughs into the fabric of the comforter, and he follows the faint sounds of talking, stopping just before the living room to listen to Eddie’s quiet voice.

“I don’t know, Bobby. He’s really bad.”

There’s a pause, and Buck frowns, leaning against the wall and swallowing back a few coughs.

“I know he always bounces back. Look--no--I know that’s how Buck is, Bobby, but he passed out because he’s been pushing himself so hard to catch back up to us!”

Eddie’s voice is a hushed whisper, but the intensity attached to each word is sharp, evident, and Buck’s eyes cast to the floor.

“Bobby, how am I not supposed to freak out? After his leg, and throwing up blood... the blood thinners--”

Buck pushes off the wall, ignoring the rather severe wave of dizziness that washes over him in favor or stepping into the room, a frown pulled tightly at his lips.

“Buck!”

Eddie’s on his feet, worry etched across his face, and he’s starting toward him, but Buck wordlessly stops him, holding a hand out.

“What are you doing up? What’s wrong?”

“Let me talk to Bobby,” Buck rasps out, wincing at the pain coating his throat, and though Eddie seems hesitant that Buck’s even standing, holding the blanket clasped at his throat with one hand, he hands over the phone, and Buck moves it to his ear while Eddie guides him to the couch with a gentle hand to the small of his back.

“Hi, Bobby.”

“Christ, Buck, you sound terrible.”

Buck’s still getting used to having so many people worry for him, it’s still unfamiliar, and he’s still adapting to having Maddie back, and Bobby, Hen, and Chimney, and... He spares a glance to see Eddie watching him intently, brows furrowed, body leaned forward as if waiting for Buck to collapse again.

“Yeah,” Buck answers around a few coughs. “I feel like shit, but I’ll be okay.” He cocks his head to the side, smiling deviously at Eddie. “I have a great nursemaid.”

Eddie mouths ‘fuck you,’ and Buck laughs, but his humor is short-lived when he erupts into a rather painful coughing fit. The blanket slips from his shoulders, and he moves the phone away briefly, curling forward to cough harshly over and over. He’s only faintly aware of Eddie snagging the phone, but then he feels Eddie’s hand on his back, rubbing small circles.

“Easy, Buck.” Eddie presses the phone to his ear. “Yeah, Bobby, I’m here.”

Buck’s chest is burning, and he wills his lungs to breathe, to expand, to bring in air, and after a few moments, his coughing tampers off, and the fatigue comes back heavy. He’s shaking. His face is sweat-slick, yet his teeth are chattering, and he can feel Eddie tugging the blanket back over his shoulders. He slumps back against the couch, eyes heavy, half-lidded, but he watches as Eddie puts the phone on speaker.

“Buck, you need to take this seriously. Eddie said you started feeling sick a week ago?”

Bobby doesn’t sound mad, but Buck almost wishes he did. He’d rather take angry Bobby then disappointed Bobby.

“I’m sorry, Bobby,” he starts, feeling far too emotional for the second time in hours. He swipes at his welling eyes. “I just--”

“--wanted to catch up,” Bobby finishes, and Buck frowns at the phone.

“But, you don’t need to do that. All you need to do right now is rest, Buck. You have to learn to pace yourself, not just for your sake but for ours as well. Imagine if you had fainted in the burning house earlier. Did you consider how much danger you could have put that father and son and Eddie in?”

Eddie’s free hand drops to Buck’s shoulder, and he gives it a squeeze. Buck drags his welling gaze from the phone to Eddie’s, his dark eyes bleeding with concern.

“I’m sorry,” Buck whispers, more-so to Eddie, and Eddie moves his hand to Buck’s cheek, swiping a tear away from Buck’s burning cheek. He mouths ‘I know’ just as Bobby chimes back in.

“I know, son. Just worry right now about getting better, and do not even think about coming into work tomorrow. You either, Eddie. We can handle it for a few days, so you just stay and take care of Buck.”

“But, Bobby, Eddie--”

“--I’ll stay with him,” Eddie interrupts, holding Buck’s gaze with his own sharp yet worried one. “I’ll keep you updated.” Eddie says his goodbye and ends the call, and Buck holds Eddie’s gaze, unable to read Eddie’s dark, cloudy eyes, but then Eddie tosses the phone to the other end of the couch and presses the back of his hand to Buck’s forehead.

“You feel warmer than before.” Concern is mixed in Eddie’s tone, and he leaves the room, coming back moments later with the thermometer.

Buck wordlessly complies, having no energy to even think about a potential protest, and when Eddie shows him the 104.2 degree reading, even he can’t ignore the burning pit in his stomach that’s twisting in worry.

“Shit.” Eddie presses the back of his hand to Buck’s forehead once more, as if trying to determine if the small device is lying, but the heat is evident, and he carefully helps Buck to his feet.

Buck goes along with the motions, leaning heavily against Eddie as Eddie guides him back into the bedroom. It takes a few moments to get Buck settled in bed again and pumped with more medicine and water, and Buck would be lying if he said he isn’t relieved to be back in the warmth of Eddie’s bed.

Eddie disappears, coming back with a cool, damp washcloth, and he drapes it over Buck’s forehead, a frown plastered to his lips.

“Old school,” Buck rasps out, though the cloth feels heavenly against his far-too-warm face.

“Well, I’m growing a little desperate here.” Eddie glances at the clock. “It’s been hours, and you’ve only gotten worse.”

“Eddie--”

“--if you say ‘I’ll be fine’ right now, Evan, I swear I might lose it.”

Buck clamps his mouth shut, frowning deeply. He can see the stress pushing past the concern in Eddie’s eyes, and he wordlessly pats the empty side of the bed. Eddie moves around until he’s sitting with his back against the headboard, and Buck drags a tired gaze to the ceiling.

“If I admit that I’m pretty sick, will that ease some of your stress?”

“No,” Eddie breathes out a breath of a laugh, running one hand through his hair. “It will make it worse, so how about you just get fucking better?”

“I’ll try.” Buck’s eyes slip closed, unwilling to stay awake a moment longer, fatigue and illness pressing down on his chest heavily, and he nods off to the faint feeling of Eddie smoothing the damp cloth over his cheeks and neck.

When he wakes again, it’s to soft voices coming through the crack of the closed bedroom door.

“Can I see Buck?”

“He’s still feeling pretty sick, so I think it’s best to let him sleep, bud.”

“Is he going to get better?”

“Of course! It’s Buck! Now, we should go. Abuela is waiting outside.”

“I really really want to say bye to Buck.”

Buck slips from the bed, shivering lightly at the loss of heat. His head still feels an imbalance of light and heavy, and his vision sways slightly, but he feels a fraction better than before, even if just the smallest bit. He swallows back a few coughs, clearing his throat with a wince, then slowly pulls the door open with a wide, genuine smile playing at his lips.

“Hey, Chris!”

“Buck!” Christopher throws his small arms around Buck’s waist, and Buck bends over, blindly reaching out to Eddie for support to combat the sudden wave of dizziness while he wraps his other arm around Christopher’s back.

“You headed to school?” He asks, pulling away from the hug.

“Yeah. Dad said you guys are going to watch cartoons all day.”

“Oh?” Buck cocks a brow toward Eddie. “Did he now?”

“He said it’s the best way to make someone feel better.” Christopher smiles up at Buck. “It always makes me feel better when I’m sick.”

A car horn sounds from outside, and Eddie places both hands on Christoper’s shoulders. “Okay, kid, let’s get a move on before you’re late. Buck will still be here when you get back.”

Buck waves at Christopher, and as soon as the two are out of the house, he falls against the wall, sinking to the floor as a burning coughing fit rips up his throat. He doesn’t hear Eddie enter the house once more, but he suddenly feels a steady hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, Buck, breathe.”

Buck nods and coughs until the fit tampers off, leaving him heavily winded and exhausted. He leans into Eddie’s cool touch on his cheek, eyes fluttering open when Eddie slides his palm from his cheek to his forehead.

“You don’t feel as warm as last night.” Eddie tilts his head, eyes dragging all across Buck’s pale yet flushed features. “But, that sounded like it hurt. How are you feeling?”

Buck considers the question as Eddie helps him to his feet and to the couch. “Shitty, but maybe a little less shitty then last night?” He falls onto the couch, shooting Eddie a purely grateful look when Eddie drapes the throw blanket on the back of the couch over him, pausing to tuck the corners tightly around him.

“Very descriptive,” Eddie calls out as he leaves to grab more medicine and the thermometer.

“Sorry,” Buck calls out weakly, unapologetic. “My mental dictionary is kind of lacking since my body is trying to boil my brain.”

“And whose fault is that?” Eddie says when he returns, brows arched, waving the thermometer in front of Buck’s face.

Buck snags the thermometer and plucks it under his tongue, a faintly bitter looking playing at his face, one that Eddie smirks at. The reading, 103.2, is definitely better than last night, but Eddie’s not entirely satisifed with it.

“I mean,” Buck starts with a shrug, “it could be worse?” He takes the medicine Eddie wordlessly passes him, watching Eddie flop down on the couch beside him as he pops a few pills into his mouth.

Eddie turns on the TV, flipping channels into he finds Christopher’s favorite station that runs cartoons all day.

“You weren’t joking about that,” Buck comments softly around a few weak coughs, tugging the blanket tighter around himself to ward of the faint chills clinging to him.

“Nope,” Eddie says, popping the ‘p.’ “We are going to lounge around all day until you’re better.”

Buck frowns, pulling his gaze toward Eddie. “You know you can go to work, right? I’ll be fine. You hate taking off work--”

“--Buck,” Eddie interrupts, snapping his gaze to wide, blue eyes. “Do me a favor and shut up?”

Buck’s got a little more energy, more than last night, so he presses, voice rough, cracking slightly. “Eddie, man, I don’t understand. Why’re you doing all of this for me?”

“Because I love you, you moron, now shut up,” Eddie starts, wrapping strong fingers around Buck’s warm jaw and moving Buck’s gaze back to the TV, “and watch the cartoons.”

#9-1-1 #9-1-1 fox #Buddie #buddie 9-1-1 #buck/eddie #eddie/buck #sickfic #whump #whumpfic #evan buckley #eddie diaz #christopher diaz #my writing #my 9-1-1 writing

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prinxietys · 7 years

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Amnesia

Title: Amnesia

Chapters: 1

Words: 943

Rating: All audiences

Pairing: Prinxiety (Prince x Anxiety)

Warnings: Angst, implied character hurt, Amnesia

Now on ao3

Partially in response to this anon

and this prompt

by @writing-prompt-s

There had been a mistake. The doctor had prescribed the wrong type of medication to Thomas for his Anxiety and it wasn’t good for any of the parties involved.

Thomas took the medication for only one week before the side effects began to kick in. He had constant migraines, spent two days sick in bed with a fever, and was very dehydrated. It was a quick trip to the hospital and one IV drip and tests later that they realized this was all caused by his new medication.

Inside his mind, the personalities were all cheering.

“I told you it was the medication!” Logic was saying.

“And I told you, you have to be careful and get a Doctors permission to stop medication!” Dad Argued.

“Where’s Prince going?” Imaj watched as Prince went running off down the corridor.

Dad and Logic stared after him, Pranks looked up from his deck of rigged playing cards, and Missy just giggled and kept walking to his room, a plate loaded with food in his hands.

“Probably off to tell Anxiety the news,” Logic informed the child who originally spoke.

“Missy! No eating in your room!” Dad yelled after said man. He went and took the plate away from the pouting Personality and continued walking down the hall.

“Hey. didn’t you just say no eating in the rooms?” Missy called after him.

“For you. I have two episodes of the OA left to finish,” He laughed as he backed into his room.

“Come on,” Pranks laughed as he sped past Missy, “You’ve gotta see what Dad has in store for himself.”

“He has a lot of explaining to do,” Missy grumbled as he ran after the other. His face broke into a smile and he laughed, “For thinking he can watch that show without building a pillow fort with me!”

Prince knocked twice on Anxiety’s door before turning the knob and walking in.

“Anxiety are you awake?”

There was no answer.

He slowly crept into the room and looked over at the bed. His heart stopped. Anxiety’s bed was empty.

He rushed over and threw back the covers in desperation, but he really wasn’t there. He checked the floor and under the bed, the closet, the bathroom, even the kitchen, even though he was in no condition to be cooking.

If Thomas’ condition had been awful, then Anxiety’s was even worse. The Personality had been sleeping for three days straight (“A light coma,” Logic had told Prince sadly), had had a fever of 104.2° Fahrenheit, and the first few days hadn’t been able to eat at all.

Prince feared the worst. Had they been too late? Had he- Did Anxiety-?

He swallowed the lump in his throat and wiped at his eyes.

No, no. He couldn’t think like that.

He took a steadying breath (and again wiped at his eyes).

Okay, if Anxiety wasn’t here, and wasn’t in the commons, then where would he go?

….

Prince’s room.

He hurried out of Anxiety’s room, almost leaving the door open in the process. If Anxiety were to see that, than Prince would be hug deprived for a day! (He couldn’t live without hugs!)

When he got to his room he threw open the door, and all but dropped to the floor. There, sitting in the middle of his bed wrapped in layers of blankets and with his laptop propped in his lap, was Anxiety.

Prince ran over and jumped on the other, smothering him in a hug.

“P-Prince?” Anxiety choked and then went into a coughing fit, causing the other to scramble off of him.

“I’m so sorry,” Prince apologized, but he continued to smother the other by grabbing his face and checking him over for any serious injuries, “I just got so worried when you weren’t in you room and I didn’t know where you went and I thought, and I thought-” He was crying now and Anxiety sighed.

“Sorry, it was just getting stuffy in there,” He muttered. Anxiety’s room had gotten too warm for his liking, and Prince’s room was literally in the middle of a field so it had plenty of fresh air.

Prince continued to cry and Anxiety paused his computer and turned to him.

“You’re such a crybaby,” He muttered as he wiped the others tears away.

“Am not,” Prince mumbled, but he held the others hand against his cheek. Anxiety flushed and pulled his hand away, turning back to the game on his laptop.

“Are too.”

Prince let out a soft laugh and looked at the laptop.

“Will see who’s crying tonight,” He mused as he watched the screen, “Seriously? The first thing you do after waking up is play a horror game? And Amnesia at that?”

“Oh hush,” Anxiety mumbled. Technically the first thing he did was take a long shower.

Still, Anxiety lifted the blanket and Prince was snuggled into his side in an instant.

Prince would allow Anxiety to play this game now (even if it meant that all lights would be on tonight while they slept), because laying like this, in the others lap, Prince could take in every single detail of the others face.

He had been so scared- so, so scared that something had happened to Anxiety, to his love. He never wanted to feel a fear like that again.

“I love you,” He whispered.

Anxiety didn’t answer verbally, but the hand that suddenly took Prince’s own, however briefly, was enough to confirm that Anxiety felt the same.

When Prince cried this time, Anxiety made no comment but took the other’s hand again and held it tight.

Even if that meant losing his game.

**Imaj- Thomas's Imagination (young child)

Missy- Misleading Compliment

Pranks- Disney Pranks (Pranks in general)**

#Be honest #you read the title and said #oh no #prinxiety #fanfiction #i got you~

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californiaprelawland · 6 years

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New Case of Negligence in an ICE Detention Center: Is the United States Following the Convention Against Torture Treaty?

Ishaani Gokli, Occidental College Class of 2022

September 12, 2018

Yazmin Juarez, the mother of deceased toddler Mariee Juarez is now filing charges against the operators of the Dilley Detention Center for repeated negligence that led toher daughter’s wrongful death.[1].

Juarez and her 19th month old daughter entered the United States through the Rio Grande before being detained at the Dilley Detention Center in Texas. They were held there for three weeks as Yazmin sought asylum for the two of them. Shortly after their arrival at the detention center Mariee Juarez’s condition worsened as her weight dropped and she developed a fever of 104.2 degrees.

Yazmin sought medical treatment for her daughter numerous times, but as her daughter’s condition worsened she was only given packets of honey, Tylenol, and Vaporub. It is also important to note that Vaporub is known to be harmful to children younger than the age of two.[2]

ICE’s medical records show that due to Mariee’s worsening condition a vocational nurse cleared Mariee for release before Mariee was hospitalized in New Jersey. There she was treated for six weeks before passing away on May 10. [3]

This case has allowed several immigrant rights groups to propagate the deplorable resources and conditions of immigration centers all around the United States. This is not the first-time issues around detainee rights has been in the hot seat of American media.

In 2008, Jorge Bustemante, the United Nations Special Rapporteur of the Commission on Human Rights on the Rights of Migrants spurred national outrage with his report on detention center conditions. Bustemante wrote of the intentional isolation of detainees in order to limit their ability to seek council and file grievances regarding the conditions they are subject to. [4]

The abysmal conditions of detention centers were further analyzed in a study commissioned by The Inter-American Commission for Human Rights: “conditions for juveniles were reported to have a lack of medical care for chronic conditions and cruel punishments such as shackling and solitary confinement. There was also extensive evidence of a lack of medical care and prenatal care. [5]

With a history of poor conditions in detention centers the legality around the experiences the detainees are subject to are under question.

The isolation and malpractice occurring in the centers violates several Grievance Procedure Violations under the United Nations Treaty “CAT” (Convention Against Torture). Under article 7 of the treaty, the U.S. is prohibited from subjecting anyone to torture or to cruel, inhuman or degrading treatment or punishment.[6]”

With no due process for filed grievances due to the isolation of detainees and the minimal medical support available, the United States violates numerous clauses in the CAT Treaty.

Mariee Juarez is only one of many cases conveying the issues present in the current funding of and practices of detention centers. According to Juarez’s lawyers, this case symbolizes a need for reform and the question of whether our detention centers allow the country to uphold the 8th Amendment.[7]

An ICE detainee is now filing charges against the operators of the Dilley Detention Center. She is suing the center for its repeated negligence which led to her toddler daughter’s death. The repeated history of silenced grievances in ICE detention centers brings the legality of the centers limited resources into question.

________________________________________________________________

[1]https://www.cnn.com/2018/08/28/us/texas-ice-child-death/index.html

[2] https://www.law360.com/texas/articles/1077680/guatemalan-says-poor-medical-care-at-ice-facility-killed-tot/

[3]Ibid.

[4] Jorge Bustamante, “Report of the Special Rapporteur on the human rights of migrants,” Addendum, Mission to the United States of America, March 5, 2008, available at http://daccessdds.un.org/doc/UNDOC/GEN/G08/112/81/PDF/G0811281.pdf?OpenElement

[5] “Rights Working Group and Women’s Commission for Refugee Women and Children Testify Before the Inter-American Commission on Human Rights, Speakers call for better treatment of vulnerable populations in detention,” http://www.womenscommission.org/projects/detention/iac_detention.php (last accessed May 28, 2008).

[6] https://treaties.un.org/doc/Publication/MTDSG/Volume%20I/Chapter%20IV/IV-9.en.pdf

[7] https://www.law360.com/texas/articles/1077680/guatemalan-says-poor-medical-care-at-ice-facility-killed-tot/

Photo Credit: Yazmin Juárez

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globalmarketresearchanalysi-blog · 7 years

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Real Estate: Global Group of Eight (G8) Industry Research Report By Radiant Insights, Inc

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Compares data from the US, Canada, Germany, France, UK, Italy, Russia and Japan, alongside individual chapters on each country

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How large is the G8 real estate market in relation to its regional counterparts?

Key Highlights:

The G8 countries contributed $1,005.1 billion in 2015 to the G8 real estate industry, with a compound annual growth rate (CAGR) of 2.7% between 2011 and 2015. The G8 countries are expected to reach a value of $1,085.0 billion in 2020, with a CAGR of 1.5% over the 2015-20 period.

Among the G8 nations, the US is the leading country in the real estate industry, with market revenues of $511.1 billion in 2015. This was followed by Germany and Japan, with a value of $118.3 and $104.0 billion, respectively.

The US is expected to lead the real estate industry in the G8 nations with a value of $560.8 billion in 2016, followed by Germany and Japan with expected values of $124.9 and $104.2 billion, respectively.

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#Real Estate Global Group of Eight Industry

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