#Elderly care and sedation
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When Painkillers Cause More Pain Than Relief: Lessons from the Gosport Tragedy
How Misused Opioids Dull Minds, Shorten Lives, and Rob Patients of Dignity I’ve seen the delicate balance of pain management firsthand throughout my career. It’s no easy task. But when I read the findings from the Gosport War Memorial scandal, my heart sank and I started to share my thoughts and feelings concisely. This wasn’t about relieving pain — it was about the consequences of misuse,…
#Chronic pain alternatives#Cognitive impact of painkillers#Cognitive impairment from opioids#Elderly care and sedation#Gosport hospital scandal#Gosport Hospical Tragedy#Healthcare Tragedy in the UK#Healthcare tragedy lessons#Holistic pain management#Hospital care failures#Insights from a Retired Healthcare Professional#Mental health and painkillers#Opioid misuse#Opioids in healthcare#Over-medication risks#Pain management ethics#Patient safety in healthcare#Sedative overdose consequences
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girl on fire 3
Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as cheating, neglect, noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.
Summary: neglected, you find comfort in another home.
Characters: Jonathan Pine, Loki
Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself
“Chardonnay, simple but classic. Versatile,” Jonathan declares as he uncorks the bottle, “a fine match for this delectable looking salmon.”
He’s plated the meal nicely and set the patio table for the dinner. It isn’t the one you planned but better than the one you’d been about to resign yourself too. He pours you a healthy glass and you can’t help but admire his profile. He’s younger and fairer, but does he ever remind you of your husband. It’s like a cruel joke.
He fills his own glass and sits, his elbow close to yours as he leans it on the arm rest. He reaches for his wine and raises it, awaiting your cheers. You cling the crystal and try not to show how flustered his gaze makes you. You were prepared for your unloving husband but not an intent neighbour.
“Thanks, this is all very nice,” you smile. How long since you did that? Genuinely. “You really didn’t have to humour me.”
“Humour you? Not at all. I have to confess, it’s rather lonely. Hattie’s great fun when she’s not in pain but I’m afraid she’s been rather lethargic with all the sedation.”
“She is? I didn’t think she’d had her surgery yet,” you perk up and take a cautious sip. The chardonnay is oaky and bold. It must be expensive.
“Not as yet, no, she’s due soon,” he explains as he slices into the flaky salmon, “but I’m afraid she is not handling the pain.” He hums before he tastes the fish. He tastes it very deliberately, “that is perfectly cooked. You must have training, yes?”
You laugh, not meaning too, but it’s a compliment you don’t expect.
“Oh no, no, I... I worked at the deli in a grocery store, a long time ago, but I wouldn’t call it culinary school.”
“Very long ago? You don’t seem that old,” he says, “not that I’m guessing your age. I am aware it’s rather uncourteous to mention it to a woman so I suppose I’ve already said too much.”
“Thirty-three.”
“Spry,” he comments with a grin. “I enjoyed thirty-three. And thirty-four. It was all rather merry until forty.”
“Now I know I have a lot to look forward to,” you kid and take a more generous mouthful, “this wine...”
“Ah, yes, I’m a bit of an enthusiast. Hattie only had cooking sherry when I moved in. I had to stock up for my stay though I admit I’ve found it rather glum to drink alone. I opened a single bottle of merlot and couldn’t finish.”
“Mm, I... think I know what you mean,” you admit bittersweetly.
“Yes, I’ve not seen the husband yet. Elusive? He must be busy.”
“All the time. Eleven years... well, the flame gets dimmer,” you swirl the chardonnay and watch the golden cyclone, “I’m sure you don’t care. I’m boring. Tell me about you,” you put the glass down and pick up your fork, “when you’re not caring for elderly women, what do you get up to? It must be something exciting. Does your wife miss you?”
“So many questions, I’m afraid I might disappoint,” he mulls his response as he chews. “I can’t help but repeat myself. Absolutely delicious.”
“You’re not answering,” you goad. Your heart is fluttering. You can’t help it. He just seems so sophisticated.
“I manage several hotels for a luxury chain. Though I am looking into slowing down. I’ve invested in the brand so I have a cushion. I tire of all this running around,” he says forlornly, “I didn’t realise it until I arrived here. Hattie, bless her, she’s helped me realise how much I’ve missed out on,” he shifts and sits straighter, “so to your point, no, I’ve not a wife to miss me.”
You laugh, “I’m sorry. I’m so nosy. It’s just... this place, well, we have gossips but it’s always the same stories.”
“I’m flattered, truly. I’m truly not very exciting.”
“Look who you’re talking to,” you scoff.
“I’d counter and say I find you rather interesting,” he insists, “I wonder how any man could keep away from you.”
“Oh, you really know what to say,” you giggle.
“The truth is always the best policy,” he winks, “a woman who cooks like this, she must be something special.”
Your cheeks burn and bulb and you smile even deeper. There’s an edge to your delight. The nagging voice in the back of your head; he isn’t your husband, though not for your own negligence. You wish he was Loki. You have yearned for your husband to look at you, to speak to you like this.
It’s fine. It’s nothing. He knows you’re married. It’s only dinner. You’re not going to do anything.
❤️🔥
“I’ve some sorbet in the freezer, would you like some dessert?” Jonathan asks as you empty your glass. The third. Like everything else, he is generous with the bottle.
“I’d love dessert,” you preen and set the glass down, cupping your chin in your hand as you lean in to marvel at him. You angle your foot to touch his leg, “but I’m not in the mood for sorbet.”
He tilts his head and his blue eyes flash. He takes a breath and you sense his reluctance. Oh no. Why did you do that? Why did you say that? It’s the wine.
“Ah,” he reaches to touch your knee, squeezing, “I am entirely flattered but... you are married.”
“Oh god,” you pull back and cover your face, “please, forget that happened. I’m drunk.”
“It’s rather fine. It is a rather strong vintage,” he removes his hand, “please do not be embarrassed.”
“How can I not be?” You whine.
“Truly, I... I would. I cannot say I invited you in without the whim and yet... you are married.”
“I know,” you whimper.
“And I wouldn’t want to put you in such a compromised position.”
You nod and gulp, hiding still behind your fingers, “I’m so sorry.”
“Please, I should be. I’ve been... misleading. I must admit I would leap at the chance and yet I find it difficult knowing that it would be only a fleeting deceit.”
“Ugh, please, I’ll go,” you sit up and grip the edge of the table, about to stand. He catches your arm, and holds you there.
“Darling, you are one of the most immaculate woman I’ve met. That man, whoever he is, is a fool. I’ve not met him and even I know it,” he trails his hand down your arm and takes yours, raising it to kiss your knuckles, “please, know I do not reject you out of repulsion, only out of consideration. I wouldn’t dare put you in that position.”
“I...” the touch of his lips makes you tingle. You tear your hand away and get to your feet, “I have to go.”
“Darling--”
“No, you’re so sweet,” your voice quavers, “but I can’t... I can’t hear lies from another man. I understand, okay? Please, just forget this all.”
You clamour around his seat and across the deck. You take the two steps to even ground and wobble to the gate. You leave it open as you barrel through and across the street. You slow as you approach your house, the moonlight high above its peak. You stop short as Loki’s car sits in the driveway.
What timing he has.
#loki#jonathan pine#dark loki#dark jonathan pine#dark!loki#dark!jonathan pine#jonathan pine x reader#loki x reader#series#drabble#girl on fire#the night manager#mcu#marvel#avengers
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Attacked pt.1
Pairing: Thomas Shelby x fem!reader
Warnings: mention of blood, pain, pain
Summary: You were a war nurse and after a long time apart from each other you find him, hurt in a alley and take him with you to take care of him.
A/N: English is my second language so be nice :)
It was late in the night when y/n made her way back home from a pub not far away from her apartment, when she heard a man groaning from fighting, punshes. She slowed her pace and kept herself in the shadow of the buildings not wanting to get into the fight. A shot rang through the chilly night air and y/n shrugged and pressed herself against the wall behind her. She saw a few men running out of a rather dark side alley.
The curious woman she was, she crossed the street quickly, entering the alley, in hope she could see the person that was shot. The person laid close to the brickwall groaning in pain. She looked over her shoulder to make sure the attackers didn‘t see her, before getting closer to their victim. When she could see who it was she couldn‘t believe it, it was a fucking Shelby.
„Thomas?!“, y/n said crouching down next to him, when he turned his head in pain to see who it was he couldn‘t believe his eyes either but was glad it was her. „Oh my goodness, who did that?“, Thomas had moved in pain now leaning, more or less, against the wall. He had a stab wound in his abdomen and the bullet went into his shoulder, The wound from what looked like a big knife was bleeding a lot. Thomas could not answer her, he just hissed and groaned in pain pressing his hand onto his abdomen.
„Let me see that.“, carefully he took his hand away, at first he refused but after a stern look from her he let her look. „That does not look good, Thomas. You need a doctor!“, y/n looked at him, meeting his ice blue eyes again. „No.“, he hissed. „You are losing too much blood if you don’t see a doctor right now you will not make it till sunrise!“, Jean explained through gritted teeth. Thomas sighed and leaned his head back against the wall. „Come on I will bring you to George.“, y/n grabbed his arm and helped him stand up.
He placed his arm around her shoulder, her other arm around his waist to stabilize him. After a few meters they haven’t left the alley yet she turned around and saw his Peaky hat laying on the ground. „Wait!“, she helped Thomas lean against the wall before she ran back to pick it up.
The normally short way over to her stepdads house took them what felt like eternity, because every now and then they had to stop, Thomas already lost a good amount of to make him more than dizzy. Y/n had to make sure he would keep enough pressure on the wound.
When y/n banged against the door of the house, Thomas leaned against the doorframe, his consciousness leaving him slowly. When the door opened a elderly man, with grey hair looked through sleepy eyes, „What the bloody..“, he couldn’t end his sentence, „George, I‘m sorry. But it's an emergency, I found him on the street!“, she held Thomas by his arm when he almost fell. „Is that..?“, „Yes, Thomas Shelby. Now help me!“, the man came through the door and put an arm around Thomas to get him inside the house.
„James!“, he shouted and a man in her age came down the stairs. „He still lives here?!“, y/n scoffed and threw her purse and hat onto the next best armchair. „Darling!“, George warnt her calm, she just rolled her eyes at her step brother. „James, help me get him onto the table.“, George ordered and James grab Thomas other arm, the two man carried him into the kitchen. „What happened?“, „I do not really know, just that he has a stab wound in his abdomen and a bullet in his shoulder.“, y/n explained while getting rid of the things on the table and her coat.
Thomas groaned when they lifted him onto the table and looked at her with pain in his eyes. „Okay, James you leave. Y/n you assist me, „We need to sedate him, I will get the things we‘ll need, you prepare him for it.“, she nodded, it wasn’t the first time she help him but the first patient she knew. She went to the table and rolled up her sleeves. „I’m sorry“, she said more to herself when she ripped open Thomas vest and shirt. The coat he had worn was already removed by the men. „Thomas, Thomas look at me.“, y/n said and softly tapped his cheek, in pain he moved his head to look at her, „This is going to hurt, we will sedate you. But you will be better when you wake up!“, she explained slowly and carefully.
Thomas grabbed her hand in panic, he did not want to lose consciousness, not knowing what would happen with his body. „No, i want to be awake!“, his eyes darkened and his grip tightened. „You will be, but not as much as now. I will be alright!“. He didn‘t see the needle coming and everything went dark way too fast for him to fight against it. He was in a delirious state due to the thing they gave him. When George ripped open Thomas' shirt he revealed a toned body covered in sweat, traces of war and blood.
When Thoma awoke from his delirium, a light sheet laid on his half naked body, with a low groan he moved his head. Y/n leaned against the counter holding a cup of steaming tea, her dress and hands were stained red from his blood, she looked tired.
When she heard the noise coming from the table near her, she put down her cup and hurried over. „How are you feeling?“, y/n stroked some hair out of his sweaty forehead. „Why did you do that?“, he just asked with a sore tone is his voice but also this arrogant tone which made her remember who was laying there on the table. „You are not the only soldier I helped!“, she said cold and stood up quickly, getting space between them.
There it was again, this cold, everyone could feel around them. Y/n walked over to the stove to pour Thomas a tea, but he had other plans. There was rustling and groaning to be heard, when she turned back to him, he was almost fully dressed again, in his dirty clothes. „You can‘t leave already. You need to rest or the wounds open again!“, y/n explained knowing it wouldn‘t work, Thomas sighed turning towards her putting on his hat and groaned at the pain that shot through his body, he bend over the table leaning onto his hands, breathing heavy.
Thomas felt y/ns judging gaze on him. He pointed at her with angry eyes, „Don‘t say one more thing! I‘m fine!“, he growled through gritted teeth. When he straightened again he walked over to the counter. „You have rum?“, he asked her arrogantly, „Sorry, it all went into your wounds!“, she shrugged with an arrogant smile, what he could, she has been able to do for a long time. Thomas sighed rubbing his eyes, he was hurt and tired. „Alright, this way?“, Thomas walked towards the door.
Y/n followed to the front door, „Here for George.“, Thomas grabbed into his pocket and pulled a few pounds and laid into her hand. That‘s something a Shelby would do, y/n thought and rolled her eyes shoving it back to him. „You really shouldn‘t go, Thomas!“, she tried a more calm tone, hoping he would hear. He lit himself a cigarette, nodded at her and went out onto the street. Y/n couldn‘t do a thing to stop him so she just watched him go, holding his side.
#thomas shelby imagine#thomas shelby fanfiction#thomas shelby#peaky blinders x y/n#peaky blinders imagine#peaky blinder headcanon#peaky blinders#peaky fucking blinders#fanfiction#thomas shelby x reader#tommy shelby
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Picking up the Pieces
Choso x Reader, Strangers to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy ending.
Masterlist
Manga spoilers below the break
Chapter 5
Where we each belong
You’re really proud of Yuji. It’s so easy to forget just how young he really is. There’s still two months until his sixteenth birthday. He's just a kid. A kid who has been crushed under the weight of a society he hadn’t even known existed a year ago. After you spoke with him Yuji seamlessly took over the aspects of Choso’s care that his older brother may have found more embarrassing for you to address. You didn’t mind doing the work yourself, but the change was more about Choso being comfortable and giving him some semblance of control as he gets used to his new reality
Choso is still sleeping the majority of the day. Your painkiller ability keeps him sedated and sleepy as his body works overtime to heal anything and everything it can. It almost seems arbitrary what his body responds to regarding his regeneration. His ribs are almost fused back together from being broken. The burns all over his body are scaring over. The new layer of skin protects his open wounds from becoming infected.
You putter around his room doing busy work as quietly as possible. Choso’s lungs wheezing very softly in the background. Despite the struggle, his inhales are deep and rhythmic. A thousand times better than the first few days when he was dependent on a ventilator to keep his lungs moving.
You leave the room to make some hot tea. The door behind you slightly ajar as you purse your lips. Your thought patterns are fractured and busy; filled with to do lists a mile long. You plan to help Yuji out anyway you can even if that means touring apartments with him for Choso.
A vibration in your pocket pulls your attention. The name glowing across your cell screen makes you pause with apprehension. Principal Gakuganji is not one to make calls for idle chit chat. The word hello barely leaves your lips before he’s issuing orders.
“You are being recalled back to Kyoto.”
Before the world fell apart you were the lone doctor on call at the Kyoto Jujutsu High Campus. The work you did mainly revolved around caring for sorcerers in the surrounding areas rather than the actual students. Fixing them up after missions, making house calls for the elderly and disposing of the dead. The majority of sorcerer families still reside in and around the ancient imperial capital city. Their traditional mansions rest on sprawling estates that have been passed down family lines for centuries.
Having the same role as Shoko, just in another city, the two of you tagged up to touch base every month or so. The two hour train ride via bullet train was not all that much of an inconvenience if it meant good food and even better conversation. Despite the relatively short travel time, Kyoto seems a world away now. Your stomach sinks as Gakuganji details why your presence back in Kyoto is now critical.
“At the moment it’s impossible to maintain two academies. We simply don’t have the manpower needed and the people we do have are swamped with curse cleanup.” The old man pauses, a wet cough rattling in his chest. His voice is a murmur frailer than you remembered it. Has he always sounded like that? You had previously never associated the stubborn leader with weakness before. He’s probably burning the candle at both ends like everyone else these days. Maybe you are needed back in Kyoto more than you realize.
Tentatively you question, “Sir, with all due respect. How are you feeling? You sound exhausted.”
The seventy six year old grunts. You aren’t exactly close with the man, but his regular health check ups, as a result of a stroke a few years ago, made you familiar with his idiosyncrasies. “You don’t exactly sound energetic either.” His tone comes off as annoyed; but the fact that he even answers you means he is far from angry. “We are all exhausted. With Satoru Gojo dead, curse users are crawling out of the woodwork. That doesn’t even speak to the influx of missions we’ve been forced to backlog and the public relations nightmare we're juggling now that the existence of curses is public knowledge.” he gives out a deep sigh. “Just get back here. The Tokyo students and staff will be notified of upcoming changes. I’ll have Nitta send your train ticket via email. Tokyo Jujutsu High will be shuttered.”
A quick goodbye has you ending the call and slipping your phone back into your pants pocket. You can’t help but feel relieved you’re only a worker ant. You don’t have the overwhelming responsibility to fix this whole mess. You just have to work on fixing one person at a time.
You simply go through the motions of making tea on autopilot. You’ve done the same actions so many times since you first came to stay here that you don’t even register that you've made a cup for yourself as well. Forcing a smile despite not feeling it, you sanitize your hands before heading back into Choso’s room. The tray the tea cups are on clinks as you walk gingerly to avoid spilling the scalding liquid. You filled them to the brim; a rookie mistake you were trying not to regret.
Using your foot you nudge the ajar door a little wider. Your form freezes in surprise when you see Choso is awake. The remote that controls the bed lays next to his remaining hand. The bed’s now an obtuse angle so that he’s sitting upright. His form is turned away from you, his profile all you see as he stares out the only window in his room. The view isn’t great, it’s mainly obscured by a large tree, but it provides a the room with a cheerier atmosphere. The greens and blues starkly contrasting with the hospital wings cream and white.
You briefly wonder if he overheard your phone conversation. Not that it really matters at the end of the day. At the moment you get paid to do what the geezer says. You navigate carefully around the chair that’s become your makeshift home away from home. “See anything worth mentioning?”
He flinches a little in surprise. His hearing must be worse than you realized. With some effort Choso turns to look at you. You bite back the urge to discourage the movement. He needs to feel like he has as much autonomy as possible right now. You helicopter nursing was not going to help his hurt ego. There’s a light sheen of sweat on his forehead as he adjusts his good hand a few times on the bed side rail. Once he’s satisfied he manages to shuffle so he’s facing you. He’s able to use his thighs as leverage. A grunt charged with his exertion mixed with screaming nerves leaves his lips. His lips are pressed hard together. The outline of them whitening from the pressure. When the wave of agony subsides he speaks with a quiet precision. “A bird, with a green back.” He winces slightly over the word back. His voice low and hoarse but it’s amazing to see the progress he’s made in only a few days.
Unloading the tea cups onto the rolling bedside tray you can’t help but smile. You nod with a hum as you seat yourself and get comfortable in your recliner. “Did he have red on his head?”
Choso’s brows furrow and he gives a small nod. How a grown man can make such cute expressions you’ll never know. “I bet it was a woodpecker.” When he doesn’t respond, you clarify, “Bird watching is a guilty pleasure of mine.”
He’s not familiar with this phrase, “Guilty pleasure?” Then again he’s not familiar with a lot of human phrases. The more he learns about people, about humans, the more he realizes he’s totally lost in this new world around him. The curse-filled world he had originally planned to help Suguru Geto, no, Kenjaku create was soon to hopefully be a distant memory. His piece of shit father, finally in the grave where he belongs. The disaster curses all destroyed, Sukuna obliterated, and Yuji’s future secure. Now he needed to figure out his own place in this new future.
You are blinking at him in puzzlement while his point of confusion registers, “Oh.” You're thoughtful for a moment, bottom lip pulled between your teeth as you worry it in contemplation. You probably don’t even realize you do it. “A guilty pleasure is something you enjoy doing, but feel bad about. I’m using it in a more teasing way though. There’s nothing wrong with bird watching.. it’s just something that I guess is associated with older people.” Despite what you’re saying being a statement, your tone inflects up slightly like you’re not quite sure if your description is accurate.
Something you enjoy but feel bad about. He can’t help but turn away to look back out the window, shyness and a heat rising on his cheeks. You are probably his guilty pleasure. He‘s grateful when you’re around but can’t help the gnawing shame that eats at him when you are. He’s so incapable right now. He’s always been the one to devote all his energy to care for his little brothers. Now he can’t even complete the most basic daily tasks. Not to mention, you were a sorcerer closely caring for a curse.
When he was first told of his health status two days ago he had been broken in body and mind. But as time passes certain pieces of him are still healing. He’s still trying to discover what his new limitations are. His blood manipulation technique is slowly returning; just a shadow of his former glory. He can only make small changes now. Raising and lowering his blood pressure. His eyes following the blips on his heart rate monitor to validate his efforts.
“So, how do you like your tea?” Your question pulls him from his thoughts. Your lips are puckered slightly as you blow on the cup of tea in your hands. They look soft. You glance up and catch him staring; your expression amused.
His mouth feels dry as he swallows hard, “I-I don’t know.” He doesn’t. When you frown he feels his stomach drop. He doesn’t like when you look upset.
As quickly as the frown was there it’s gone. The expression is fleeting, “Hmm, well I just put a little sugar in but if it’s too sweet or not sweet enough you’ll have to let me know.” You bring the cup up to his lips with care.
The small sip he manages spreads a nice warmth all the way down to his stomach. You’re looking at him expectantly. He’s never thought deeply about how things taste. He just ate to exist, drank to be hydrated. “I like it.” He’s not sure if that’s true. It just tastes like tea to him. He’s never considered how he feels about it. “I like it.” He sounds like he’s trying to convince himself.
You tilt your head to the side; this funny half smile on your lips. You are trying to figure him out. Yuki used to look at him like this. Like he was a puzzle she wanted to solve. He liked Yuki, she was kind. He likes you too. Your tone is teasing when you push him a little further, “What is it you like about it?”
Choso’s mouth opens and closes a few times. What does he like about it? The answer to that question comes easy. “That you made it.”
He answers with such seriousness you look taken a little aback. Lifting your own tea you take a sip. Giving yourself time to articulate a response. Your cheeks flush a shade darker than normal. It’s quiet for a long moment, he’s watching you fidget with your cup before setting it down then lifting his for him again. He’s hoping he didn’t say something weird. But you had asked the question so he had tried to honestly answer it. When he tried to speak again his voice cracks and fades. He’s used it too much but he has to know. Your eyes are fixed on his own as he swallows hard and tries again, “Was that a bad answer?”
He can’t decipher the look on your face. The longer he stares the more he feels this tingling flutter in his chest. “If an answer is the truth it can’t be a bad one.” You stand up with a long groan, your arms raised high in a leisurely stretch. “Let’s try and rest your throat for a bit. You’ve made so much progress I don’t want to send you backwards. Do you want to try and get some fresh air outside?” A mischievous look slides onto your face as you try dangling a carrot of incentive in front of him, “We can go check in on Yuji.”
You can’t help but laugh at the way Choso’s eyes shine with excitement at the mention of stopping in on his baby brother. It is honestly adorable. Despite the two of them only meeting a few months ago it is clear they have developed a tight knit bond. Everyone had been surprised when Yuji had shown up with the imposing curse. On the surface level they looked like direct opposites. Choso with this goth/punk aura. His inky black hair and equally dark eyes. A frown perpetually on his lips and his eyes deeply tired and rimmed in purple. Yuji on the other hand is bright eyed and bushy tailed. His pink fluffy locks and golden flecked brown eyes always twinkling with amusement. Yuji, known for his enthusiasm and sunshine personality. It’s only getting to know Choso a little better now that the similarities between are starting to shine through.
The eagerness in Choso’s face at the mention of going to check on Yuji is infectious. You’d kill to have someone that visibly happy to want to come see you. You can’t help but smile while bringing in the wheelchair that had been set aside for Choso. There's only a traditional push wheelchair for the time being. He’d have to get an electronic one later on when he is able to be more independent but this will have to do for now.
You roll the device as close to the bed as possible. Mentally you are trying to work out the best way to approach him moving into the chair but he’s already trying to lift himself. His approach isn’t wrong; he uses his thighs and his good arm to try and shuffle over. It’s only when he’s halfway through the move that his arm gives out. His elbow bows and buckles before falling limp. The muscular arms he has always just taken for granted are nowhere to be found. The weeks lying in bed have caused them to atrophy to where he can’t even support his partial body weight. There is shock in his eyes as his arm crumples under his mass. He’s off balance and pitching forward, he moves the partial limb where his other arm used to be to try and grab hold of the bed but there’s nothing there to receive the signals his brain is sending.
You manage to grab him around his torso. Your arms under his armpits to try and stop the fall. The places your arms cinch around are places with barely healed burns. Choso inadvertently hisses in pain as he sucks in air through his gritted teeth. “I’m sorry- shit!” Your fingers are scrabbling to find purchase while not pulling off bandages and his precious scar tissue. You’re not strong enough. Knowing he’s going to hit the floor you try and take the majority of the impact in order to cushion his own. You land on your knees hard but somehow manage to use his momentum so he falls into you rather than away. The arm he still has wraps around your shoulders with all his remaining strength. You pull him into you, his head nestled in the crook of your neck.
There’s an audible groan as he lets out the breath he was holding. You can tell he’s in excruciating pain by how labored his breathing has become. His forehead breaks into a cold sweat, the perspiration dripping down his temple. “Choso, I am so sorry..are you okay?” Your voice is full of panic as you pour your pain killing technique into him. His wounds have ripped open, scars breaking when you grappled with him. Your reverse curse is quickly doing what it can as you hold him to you. He’s sitting on your lap, his thighs straddling you. The wait is painful on your knees where they are pinned under you but that’s the least of your worries right now.
Choso isn’t responding and you end up yelling for Yuji. Luckily he has great hearing because it’s only moments later that he’s barreling through Choso’s door Fushiguro hot on his heels despite his own injuries. “Ah-Big bro?” Yuji’s eyes meet yours and you can’t help the panic in them.
“I’m sorry Yuji, I tried to help him over to the wheelchair and failed spectacularly.” You’re trying to maintain your composure as the teens' eyes run over you both urgently.
“Hey, no worries. I got you bro.” The way Yuji lifts Choso is effortless and even with the extreme care Choso’s breath hitches as shooting pains run through him. “You wanna go in the wheelchair?”
It’s only at this moment Choso seems to come back to where he is. He looks disoriented, his eyes are hazy and glazed over in distress. “No!” The way he expels the word from his lips is jolting. “No- just put me back in bed. I’m sorry.” His voice trails off into a whisper as he looks down at his own limbs seemingly genuinely stunned at the way everything unfolded. He’s taken his strength as a given part of him all these years. It’s only truly in this moment that he realizes he is not okay.
Yuji is gingerly moving Choso back onto his cot and Fushiguro offers you a hand to stand. You scoot away a few feet before standing on your own. There’s blood on your pants. The stains from his wounds reopening when he landed on your knees. Shoko is here and checking Choso’s vitals, her expression twisted into a deep frown.
If Shoko is here he will be okay. You sheepishly back up till your back meets the door frame. Some lame excuse slipping past your lips “I’ll go grab him some fruit juice or something.” Only Megumi acknowledges you, he’s probably the only one who even heard your halfhearted whisper.
You’re moving down the hallway faster than you intended. You aren’t thinking about where you are going as much as how far away you need to be from that room right now. That was a major fuck up. You’re blaming yourself in frustration. You should have warned him about the atrophy. The absolute shock on his face when he realized he didn’t even have the strength to hold himself up isn’t going to leave you for a while. You burst out of the hospital doors into the sunshine. Slightly winded you take in gulping breaths of chilled January air. Your mouth watering from the sudden exercise.
Moving out of the doorway you sag against the building wall. There’s a vibration in your pocket and you take the device out with shaky hands. There’s an email from Akari Nitta, the attachment grabbing your attention immediately. Your train back to Kyoto leaves tomorrow at 10AM.
Chapter 4 ————————————————
#jujutsu kaisen#jjk fanfic#ao3 fanfic#choso kamo#choso x reader#choso kamo x reader#caregiver reader#reader#hurt comfort#angst with a happy ending
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Dr. Mike Yeadon is probably the most qualified former pharmaceutical company research executive speaking out about the dangers of the covid so-called “vaccines.”
He is trained in toxicology and has a PhD in respiratory pharmacology and has had a 30-year career spanning the pharmaceutical and biotechnology industry. When Dr. Yeadon worked at Pfizer he was responsible for research on allergic and respiratory diseases. He later became the founder and CEO of a biotechnology company acquired by Novartis, before becoming persona non grata in the industry in 2020 for speaking out against the covid pandemic and vaccines.
In a video recorded for the Northern Ireland Assembly, he sums up what happened during the covid era as well as how the vaccines were designed.
In July 2024, Northern Ireland published a consultation document regarding a proposed Public Health Bill which appears to include, among others, a proposal to enable forced vaccination. It hasn’t been made clear, but it seems the purpose of Dr. Yeadon’s video is so that it can be submitted to the Northern Ireland Assembly in response to this proposed bill, the consultation for which ended on 14 October 2024.
In his video, Dr. Yeadon explained that there was no pandemic or public health emergency in 2020, but rather a pandemic of lies, propaganda, fear-based information, fake diagnostic tests and misattribution of real illnesses, which led to a radical change in medical management practices worldwide.
Numerous deaths in 2020 which were recorded as “covid deaths” were due to “treatment” protocols. Hospitals and care homes adopted harmful practices, such as sedating patients and using mechanical ventilators, and applied these “treatments” to frail and elderly people, resulting in large numbers of deaths. This was not by mistake. It was intentional. Crimes were committed, Dr. Yeadon said.
The “treatment” given to patients involved midazolam and painkillers such as morphine. Midazolam is a sedative, while morphine is a pain-relieving drug that can suppress breathing. It is forbidden to administer both together without intense medical monitoring. Dr. Yeadon, with a PhD in understanding the effects of opiate drugs like morphine, said that the combination of these two drugs would cause a person to fall asleep and stop breathing.
In addition to the deadly protocols, people in the community were deprived of medical care, such as antibiotics for incipient bronchial pneumonia, which likely resulted in thousands of deaths.
All these deaths were due to medical murder and propaganda, rather than covid, he said.
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Oh hey look I'm done🔥🔥
Anyway uhm I don't have a lot uhhhhhh it's 4am nearly for me so I should probably sleep but I can't be assed what do I do🤕🙏
Whoo dee doo♪♬
✭Bendy
•his horns are bendable, even when he isn't actively liquifying, but not as much. For example when he’s normal you'll be able to at the very least bend the tips, but not much beyond that, same with the spiky things on the side of his face
•hay fever. (Fuck summer)
•gets colds easily (fuck winter)
•double jointed knees, freaky🔥
•secretly reads magazines, specifically like fashion and entertainment ones, he's embarrassed by it for some reason
•would probably be a Lana Del Rey listener, only like 3 songs though, maybe he'd like rock lobster, his sense of music is all over the place but loves swing the most
•thrives at dusk, loves sunsets, especially in remote/forested areas, GRGRGRGRGR!!!!!
•is slowly overtime starting to forget what the lake looks like, along with silly vision as a whole, he'll never forget the dancing lady though<3 (is that what it's called? HELP)
✭mugman
•doesn't really like sweets, I mean he likes them, just not as much as the maniac he calls a brother, prefers pies and pastries
•during cups 3 days when he first got the demon blood and died(?) mugs didn't sleep much if at all, he had to be sedated to get any sort of sleep because he was so worried
•Insomnia, exploding head syndrome, sleep paralysis, he's just as horrible at sleep as cup is.. 🤕 he also sleep walks..
•Would text like an elderly person or :), ><,(ʘᴗʘ✿), ˙˚ʚ(´◡`)ɞ˚˙. No in between
•allergic to red meat, little man got attacked by a tick when he was younger (I don't remember which one it was)
•was obsessed with Quadratus when he first met the thing, tried to swim in it but soon learned that was a bad idea (it was COLD❄❄)
✭Sheba
•Chappell Roan and lady Gaga, maybe a little bit of Evangelion or Kendrick Lamar, depends 🙏🔥
•prefers sweet popcorn over salty or sweet n salty, absolute psycho
•does NOT know how to cook, milkshakes she's amazing at, actually cooking is a bit of a struggle, it's edible but not the best🤕
•actually likes licorice fizz wizz
•had appendicitis at some point in her life
✭Marcus
•his favourite anime would be devilman crybaby and devilman ova, prove me otherwise
•when he first got his wings and the little face wings he ripped one of them off, literally out of his head, that shit was BLOODY, he thought it was funny. And he actually keeps it in a jar
•he occasionally fills that jar with watered down shampoo, then opens it and flicks some of it at king dice and pretends it's (.), dice loses his shit everytime, Marcus finds it fucking hilarious but also gets told off by the devil, it's worth it (I would too tbh)
•likes analog horror a lot, his favourite would probably be the painter(if that's right) and the Mandela catalogue
•has a really nice apartment, but like it's modern, VERY modern, you'd see it in 2024 and think it's from the same era
•prefers winter over any season, but prefers Halloween over any holiday
•also likes licorice fizz wizz, he likes all the flavours<333
•bi, maybe pan
•is WAY too sharp on corners, he'd wait until the last second to turn it's terrifying because he's always going over the speed limit, especially if the roads empty🤕 sometimes definitely been thrown out of a window before
✭Oswald
•his hair is about shoulder length (not fur, hair, there's a difference) and he isn't very good at taking care of it, just kinda put it up one day and doesn't take it down until his next shower
•during the time when Ortensias death was recent he would wear her Nightgowns to bed if he could fit in them, still does that sometimes
✭Finley (happy late birthday my little fennec<33)
•took WAY too long to learn how to tie laces, his parents tried to teach him, but it just never clicked for him until he was about a teen
•also has to deal with hay fever 🤕
•also hates winter because his ears get cold
•used to absolutely cherish anything anyone got him, even if it was cheap shit, he'd love it anyway
✭Charles Harris (“Lucky”)
•Prefers champagne over any other alcohol, maybe some gin and lemonade as well, yum
✭Other
•brownies aren't really popular for Grannys house, but Red and Cuphead like them a lot so really they're the only ones eating them other than granny herself
•Marcus and Metatron have met at least once. Even if only briefly.
#bendy and boris in the inky mystery#inky mystery#babtqftim#babitim#quest bendy#quest mugman#marcus goodfellow#Sheba#Quest oswald#oswald the lucky rabbit#Charles Harris “Lucky”#red hot riding hood#Granny Gopher#quest cuphead#damncthsts alot if tags
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Medwhump May 2024
Day 8 - Going into shock / Bedside vigils
TW: character death, hospice setting, stroke mention
@medwhumpmay
"Is she in any pain?"
"She's been sedated. Thank you so much for coming, we don't know if she'll last the night. Can we get you anything to drink, dear?"
"Um...a coffee, if that's okay. With milk and sugar."
"Of course. Have a seat, maybe talk to her if you like. I'll be right back."
Erick waited for the nurse's footsteps to die down, standing at the foot of the bed until the only sounds that were left were that of the monitors at the bedside, beeping softly. He knew the sounds all to well, but never really in this context. It had always been strangers sending signals through various wires to the machines, but this time it was her.
With a deep breath to settle his...various conflicting emotions, Erick quietly moved over to the chair by her bedside and sat down. He could tell she was sedated. She looked so peaceful compared to the last time he saw her — being rushed into the back of an ambulance after his best efforts to keep her alive. Apparently it had all been for nothing.
"I'm so sorry," Erick said quietly, reaching over and gently putting his hand on hers. It was already so cold, but then again she had always had cold hands. It was one of the many reasons she chose to settle in San Diego, according to her.
"Here's your coffee."
Erick looked up as the nurse returned. He wasn't sure how much time had passed, but her hand felt a little bit warmer now as he switched hands so he could accept the coffee.
"Thanks," he said quietly, not wanting to disturb her too much.
"Were you close?" the nurse asked, "she never mentioned kids or grandkids."
Erick shrugged.
"I always thought we were close," he said, "she's my landlady— Well, my uncle's actually, but I moved in with him when I was fifteen. She was the grandma I never had."
Erick never considered Ethel old. Sure, she was past the retirement age, but she was never old old. He always helped her whenever he could, but when he and Fetch were out on a job for weeks on end, she could hold her own just as well. And when they were home, she would crack dirty jokes with Fetch, or slip Erick an extra cookie or some money for helping her out.
She knitted them sweaters, and while Erick held her yarn for her she would tell him stories about her youth. Each story was less believable than the other, from her late husband's gun that she still carried, to the sole reason she even owned any property in the first place being that it allowed her to launder money her husband stole.
She cooked for them, and even kept their apartment clean when they were on the road. He watched her wrestle her sandwich back from a seagul and eat it still, and he once drove her to an M.B.C.A. meeting just to watch her cuss out the entire board for not doing anything about the relentless littering in the neighbourhood because the city's sanitation workers tended to skip a trash pickup day or two due to poor scheduling.
Ethel made a lot of people's lives better, or much, much worse if she decided she didn't like them. Erick felt lucky to be on her good side, as her door had always been open for him whenever he needed a break from Fetch. They never discussed it out loud, but Erick suspected she had a much better idea of their real relationship than Fetch gave her credit for.
But everything changed when she suddenly collapsed the other day. She'd been complaining of a headache, and Fetch sent Erick to get her some water and an advil. He'd just grabbed a glass from her cabinet to pour some water in when Fetch yelled at him to call an ambulance. Erick rushed outside with his phone, tapping in the numbers and nearly freezing when he saw the worry on Fetch's face as he cradled their elderly neighbour.
"She's having a stroke!"
She was still rather awake by the time the ambulance arrived to pick her up, but by the end of the day they already recieved the call that she'd been transferred to hospice care. She had no next of kin listed, only her two tennants, so the hospital asked them to come over.
Fetch sent Erick ahead, he claimed he had to take care of some things first, but Erick suspected he just needed a moment to compose himself before being able to face her final moments. Appearing strong had always been much more important to Fetch, while Erick didn't care much if he would end up crying. Especially in front of Ethel. She'd never judged him before, why start now?
By the time he finished his coffee, the nurse checked in on them again, and Erick couldn't contain his curiosity.
"How...how does this usually go?" he asked.
The nurse offered a sympathetic smile.
"We keep her sedated," she said, "and when her vitals start dropping we...let her go."
"Because the stroke already killed her brain?" Erick asked, remembering Fetch's explanation after they heard back from the hospital.
"I'm afraid so," the nurse gently said, "there's nothing we can do for her, and her records indicated she didn't want to be kept on life support if there was no hope for recovery."
"...she'd hate to have people look after her without being able to do anything back," Erick said, "um...would it be okay to turn off the airconditioning in the room? Her hands are cold and she hates the feeling of cold hands. I-I know she's sedated but—"
"It's okay," the nurse cut in, "the thermostat is right over here, I'll turn it up by a couple degrees, okay?"
"Thanks," Erick said, trying to settle down a bit as he looked back at Ethel, "how long does it usually take?"
"It differs per patient, but she deteriorated fast earlier today," the nurse said, "she might not make it through the night, or she might stay like this for another week. If you or your uncle can't be here we can assign someone on the staff to sit with her instead, so we can be sure she won't be alone in her last moments."
"I wouldn't want her to be," Erick said, "I hope...I-I know it sounds terrible, but I hope we can let her go sooner rather than later."
"That's perfectly normal," the nurse assured him, "we don't want our loved ones to suffer too long before going to heaven."
Erick bit his lip to stop himself from laughing. Ethel used to joke they had a VIP-seat reserved for her in hell.
"I always thought she'd go down swinging, but just last week she said she still had a bone to pick with her husband," he said, "you always get what you want, don't you, Ethel?"
The nurse wasn't sure if she could laugh or not, when fortunately a distraction arrived in the shape of another visitor. Fetch politely inclined his head towards her as he stepped inside, stopping at the foot of Ethel's bed.
"How is she?" he asked.
"Her hands are cold," Erick said, "but the nurse already turned up the thermostat."
"That's kind of you," Fetch said.
"It's no problem," the nurse said, "can I get you anything to drink, sir?"
"A coffee, thanks— Black, please."
The nurse nodded and walked off. Fetch picked up the chair in the other corner of the room and took a seat on the other side of the bed, peering at Erick rather than Ethel.
"I asked Tito to track down whether she had a will of any kind," he said, "so we'll know how our living situation will turn out."
"...you're worried about your apartment right now?" Erick asked incredulously.
"I know what it sounds like," Fetch said, "but there's nothing else we can do for her, and it's something that has to be arranged anyway. A will might also tell us if she had any preferences for a funeral or cremation."
"How could you say that?" Erick asked, "in front of her?"
"She's already gone, kid," Fetch said, "but I get it if you need more time to accept that. That's why I sent you ahead while I took care of everything else. Someone has to sort it all out."
"Yeah, but couldn't you at least wait until she— Fuck she'd probably say you're right..."
"And she'd tell you off for swearing in a hospital," Fetch said.
"Oh my god, she would," Erick said, letting out a sound that sounded somewhere halfway between a laugh and a sob, "I don't want her to go, though."
"I know," Fetch just said, "do you want me to stay?"
Erick nodded, wiping at his eyes as he squeezed Ethel's hand again. Fetch just sat back in his chair, pulling a small notebook from his jacket pocket and beginning to scribble on a new page as they waited together, for the inevitable...
I'm sorry Ethel
The real whump is the Ethel stans having to read this :)
Masterlist Main account
Taglist for the dynamic duo: @lavndvrr
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hey there! I got my wisdom tooth out this morning was sedated. The hospital said I needed an 'escort' with me to come with me and wait till its over to take me home and care for me. Everything was fine, I was just a bit loopy and funny afterwards :D This made me think - how do you think it would go down if Lena or Jake had to do this and had to be each other's escorts? :D I feel like either of them would end up gushing about how they love the other or something like that hahah
First off, I'm glad your wisdom teeth surgery went well! It's always a tough time having to get one or more removed, but it can be kind of funny after hearing all the stories about how loopy you get. 🤣
Second, I love this idea so I wrote two short little blurbs about how both Lena and Jake would be in this situation. 🤭🤷♀️ So, enjoy I guess!
Jake's POV of Lena's wisdom teeth removal:
Jake sat in the uncomfortably stiff waiting room chair, anxiously drumming his fingers against his bouncing leg. His eyes scanned every face that passed by, searching for any hint of bad news. Was it overkill to be this nervous? Maybe. But he'd read every shitty magazine they had on their coffee table and listened to the clinic gossip until that, too, got stale. So, worrying was all he had left to do.
Eventually, one of the nurses came out from the back room and looked at their clipboard. "Harrow?"
He was on his feet faster than either of them expected, earning him a chuckle from the elderly man he'd been waiting next to. "That's me."
"She did great," the nurse said with a reassuring smile. "She should be waking up from the anesthesia any minute now. I was told you wanted to be there when she woke up."
"Yeah," Jake answered, keeping it as simple as possible. They didn't need to know how freaked out Lena would be if she didn't have a familiar face there when she woke up. And they sure as hell didn't need to know what would happen if he wasn't back there.
"Right this way," the nurse replied, leading him to the back room where rows of curtains hung, separating patients, some of whom were still snoring. She pulled back the third curtain just enough for him to slip through.
Lena was lying flat on her back, a long ice packet placed around her jaw. Other than the mild swelling, she looked more than peaceful. Jake sat down in the chair in the corner, carefully reaching out to hold her hand, an act solely meant to ease his own anxiety. The nurse checked her vitals and carefully repositioned the ice pack before she smiled at him. "Let me know if you need anything."
"Thanks." The quiet sound of heartbeat beeping on the monitor and the slow, even breaths that made her chest rise and fall were all he needed.
It didn't take more than a few minutes before he noticed her breathing grow more irregular, and her eyelashes struggled to open. Jake held her hand tighter in his as her eyes slowly opened. Groggy and confused, Lena blinked away the medicated sleep. He saw the spike on the monitor as the fear of her unknown surroundings and her past came flooding in. She lifted a shaking hand, intent on ripping the ice pack and any wires off her when he stood, catching her eye and taking hold of her other hand to stop her. "Hey, it's okay."
She breathed a relieved sigh, blinking away tears. Through the thick gauze in her mouth, he heard her thick mumble of his name, "Jake."
He smiled, moving his hand to brush the hair from her face. "Morning, princess."
Looking around and gently probing the ice pack with her finger, she seemed to remember where she was and what had happened, relaxing into the mattress. "Howditgo?"
"Good." He chuckled. "They'll be showing up to check on ya in a minute."
Her eyes lingered on his face for a long minute, sparkling as she attempted to smile. "Yerpretty."
Laughing, Jake carefully bent over, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Obviously. Now shut up before you hurt yourself or something."
It would've been an understatement to say he was relieved when they finally gave him and Lena a long list of aftercare instructions and wheeled her out to the taxi. She leaned against him in the car, physically close enough to feel him finally relax when they pulled up to the side entrance of their apartment. He paid the cabbie before helping her out of the car, not letting her take more than a step before he scooped her into his arms. "Seriously?"
"Shut up," he mumbled, kicking the door open and standing in front of the elevator. "Hit the button for me."
Lena looked cute with her slightly chubby face as she tried to smirk at him. "Can't. Too weak."
He shook his head, turning to elbow the wall until he finally hit the button blindly. "You're kind of a bitch."
She mumbled something else but curled into him for the elevator ride up. Finally, home, Jake helped her settle into bed, having already gathered a basket of water bottles, four extra ice packs, and adopted yogurts and puddings so Lena wouldn't have to get out of bed too often. After taking the gauze out of her mouth, Lena took a nap, one Jake utilized to leave and pick up her pain pills from the pharmacy.
When he returned, he pampered her with a quick but soothing bath where he massaged her scalp and shoulders. After, he entertained her every request. Lena abused this power greatly, forcing him to wear a face mask and letting her paint his nails. Eventually, the torture retired to the bedroom, where the two of them curled up in their bed and watched Phantom of the Opera.
"Stop pretending like you hate it," Lena said, pressing a kiss to his neck.
"I do hate it," he insisted, though, at this point, they both knew it was a lie.
Jake enjoyed musicals. He oddly found himself relating to a lot of them. Lena was nonetheless wiser at first, that is until he randomly got them tickets to Broadway. Still, every once in a while, Jake had to complain just to try and throw her off the trail. It didn't work, obviously. Lena knew him better than that. She knew him better than anyone.
With a content sigh, Lena laid her head across his chest. "Thanks for coming to get me."
Jake only smiled. "You know me, I'm all about that domestic shit."
She twisted, gently tugging his face down so she could press her lips to his. “You are truly a prince among men. But, still, I know how much you hate that shit, so thanks.”
“I only hate that shit 'cause I don’t like seeing you in a hospital gown.”
“Why?” Her eyes gleamed as she teased him. “Not my color?”
He pulled her closer to him, arms wound tightly around her. “We both know you look best in red.”
Nuzzling her face into his cheek, Jake closed his eyes. “Shuddup and watch the movie, jerk.”
“Whatever, loser.”
Lena's POV of Jake's wisdom teeth removal:
I sat in the waiting room, casually flipping through the pages of one of the magazines the clinic kept on their coffee table. It’d only been about twenty minutes since I’d gotten the call that they’d be finishing up Jake’s surgery soon, so I was more than content to wait. Most would assume I’d be nervous, freaking out over the what-ifs and the complications possible, and while those thoughts did come and go every now and then, I knew Jake would be just fine. He was in perfect health. Besides, he was tough and unbelievably stubborn. It’d take a lot more than some anesthesia to take him out. The old woman sitting beside me leaned over with a gentle smile. “Who are you waiting for?”
“My boyfriend,” I answered. “Wisdom teeth.”
She nodded. “My husband has had his for years. Insists that they’ve never bothered him before, but now his dentures don’t fit right with them in.”
I chuckled at her. “That sounds like quite the pain.”
“He is,” she joked. “Took me a week to convince him to get them taken out. And he grumbled about it all the way til they knocked him out.”
The nurse came from the back room with a smile and a quick glance at her clipboard. “Harrow?”
Saying a quick farewell to the old woman, I stood, carefully putting my magazine back down before I approached her. “That’s me.”
“Everything went great! He’s awake now if you wanna wait with him while the doctor gets his paperwork together.”
“Yes, please,” I answered, following her into the back room, where she led me past a few curtained sections before stopping and gesturing to the right one.
“Let us know if he needs anything.”
“Thank you.” I slid through the curtain and smiled at Jake, who was lounging on the cot, idly poking his cheek. “Well, hello there, handsome.”
His head turned, eyes still slightly droopy from the drugs. His jaw and cheeks looked swollen as he smiled at me. “Leeeennnaaaa!”
I giggled as he reached out and tugged me closer. “How are you feeling?”
“I’mgoood,” he slurred, the ice pack sliding off his face as he moved to admire my ass. “Lookityourass!”
Fixing the ice pack, I rolled my eyes. “I probably should have expected that.” His hand cupped one of my asscheeks as I swatted him away. “Jake!”
“Whaaatt?” He asked, laughing. “You’rejustsohot.”
“You’re lucky you’re still high right now.”
It turned out that drugged-up Jake was even more touchy than regular Jake. It was kind of cute, not that I’d ever tell him that. As one nurse was going over his aftercare instructions, another was helping him into his wheelchair when he loudly proclaimed, “THATSMYGIRLFRIEND!”
Both girls laughed, “They know, sweetie.”
“ISN’TSHESOHOT?!”
The room was filled with suppressed giggling as every nurse and doctor in the vicinity was subjected to Jake’s loving praises, which didn’t stop when we rolled him through the waiting room. The older woman from before waved at us with a kind, “He’s a real keeper!”
The whole drive, Jake lounged on my lap while complimenting every feature of my face with a gentle, slightly off point of his finger. Once we got back in the apartment, he collapsed on the couch and fell asleep. Quinn dropped off his pain medication before he woke up and quickly fled the premise to join Ari for dinner. After the medication wore off a bit and he woke up, he ate some yogurt, and then we took a quick, cool shower where I helped wash his hair and gently wash his face.
Once the two of us settled into bed, his head resting in my lap with my fingers gently combing through his inky hair, Jake looked up at me. “Don’t laugh, but can we watch Moulin Rouge?”
I bit the inside of my cheek to keep the laugh in and nodded. “Of course, we can, sweetie.”
As the movie played and Jake shifted to lay in front of me, head on my chest, he mumbled, “I’m not saying I like this-”
“Shut up.” I kissed the top of his head and carefully set two ice packs against his cheeks. “I love you, loser.”
His fingers threaded through mine, settling our hands over his heart. “I love you too, jerk.”
#fic: nightshade#nightshade#nightshade oneshot#jake x lena#jake and lena#sweetbitter jake#jake sweetbitter#sweetbitter jake x lena#sweetbitter fanfiction#sweet bitter#sweetbitter#tiny sneak peek into the future of this fic?
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What kind of patients are the Healthcare boys' favorites?
Who likes the sweet old granny who insists they look "just like their grandson"?
Who likes the quiet patients?
Who likes the funny patients?
Just curious☺️
🐸🐸
Or who likes the troublesome patients cus it means they have an excuse to give some crap back. These be some sassy boys
Four likes the sweet old grannies. They're in pretty high supply in the surgical-trauma ICU as it's quite easy for elderly to get pretty hurt. He doesn't always like all the baggage that comes with them - full code status on a 90-year-old unstable patient is a truly awful thing.
Legend likes the quiet patients more than anyone. He wants to be able to provide help for everyone and not get held hostage in a room or bogged down by someone hitting the call bell every five minutes. He's used to just moving continuously, not staying still. That doesn't mean he doesn't like interacting with patients, and if one is too quiet he'll check on them to make sure they're okay. He just wants to be able to provide the best care for everyone. Hyrule doesn't mind them quiet, either, but honestly he's pretty chill with anything so long as they aren't rude. Warriors just likes patients who actually listen and don't lie to him.
Wind and Wild adore the funny ones, and Twilight usually gets pretty free entertainment with the kids anyway. Wild usually ends up cracking jokes with his patients the entire trip to wherever they're going.
Sky doesn't do much patient interaction, but he loves listening to everyone's stories. Time's interaction is usually a 5-10 minute conversation before surgery and then checking in on them during rounds afterward, so he doesn't get too much interaction. Most of the time his patients are sedated.
But more than anything, all the boys just want patients who tell them what's going on, understand the circumstances, listen to them when they speak, and are willing to have a dialogue and be a team player in their care, and be polite. The boys will take any kind of patient so long as they can fit most of these criteria.
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Big Leo holding Raph and joking around with lil' Leo 🥺💜
RAPHIE!!!! I LOVE MY BIG MAN SM!!!!!! i love him i love him i love him i love him i love himmmmmmm
(v excerpts taken from ch7 v)
Before he responds Leonardo walks into the room. Under his arm is Raph, hanging there limply with a shocked expression. Leo reels at the sight a little bit. It looks like Raph is too as he jolts up. “Wait, you can actually carry me?” “I've been waiting for the perfect moment to!” The older turtle chuckles. “And I can do more than carry you, big brother.” He lets Raph down to the floor and crouches down forward for a piggy back ride. Raph gasps loudly and climbs on his back, locking his ankles together. Leonardo stands up with no struggle and Raph starts to pat excitedly on the older turtle’s shoulders. His older brother was wiggling, and yes, it’s fucking adorable! “Leo, Donnie, look!!” “We see that, bud.”
raph is literally so excited to be picked up, the last time he was picked up was from when april tried and he was like 11. yeah sure hes 17 now but that does NOT make him immune to having an indescribable amount of joy for being carried around like a ragdoll
he kicky his feeties
on the other hand, fleo wanted to return and thank raph in his own way. for protecting him, for taking care of him donnie, and mikey. and also as kind of an apology.
"let me carry the burden you do" is what hes trying to say here. and even to present raph, hes still taking care of fleo. raph cares about his brother so much it doesnt matter if fleo is taller than him now, that hes older with decades on him, that he survived a war.
fleo is his little brother and nothing is going to change that.
onto the leos !!
He sees in his periphery that Leonardo smiles wider. “Awe, you like me.” “Don’t push it.” Leo rolls his eyes. “It’d be shitty to demote you just because you're not from this timeline. If we did that, we’d have to do it to Case– Junior too. It wouldn’t have been fair.” “Whatever you say.” Leo snorts. “That being said, can you stop leering over in the shadows? It's actually terrifying.” “I can only do so many things in the lair before I’m bored again.” “And that means giving me a heart attack every time I go into a room? Put away your scary ass stare man, I swear your eyes turn red.” “I didn’t know you were so faint of heart.” “I should have kept you sedated.” Leo says, knowing he never once put him under sedation.
my dynamic of leos is very hard for me to describe personally. its not hostile, its just complicated, and even then "complicated" has too negative of a connotation.
leo is a person who latches onto family with his entire heart. he accepted karai as gramgram near immediately and we all know how fucked up about her death was on him and to the rest of the boys.
its different when its a version of yourself.
for me i didnt want immediate hostility(look away from the scalpel incident for one sec), because i saw some fics that go too hard into the "leo hates himself" angle and while not unsounded, it can be played straight and have a good payoff, it was NOT the tone i wanted in wmas. it wouldnt match the kind of complication im trying to give across here
pov leo, hes seeing himself as the pinnacle leader, from how casey described him, hes the Hero, this is the ideal of what he should be striving for.
but the person hes seeing in front of him is just a guy. leo saw him injured, resting on bed in the medbay, he saw him start to cry in raph's arms, he sees a father, he sees a confused and lost man in front of him.
in a way its pity. in a way he pities himself. fleo is tired and leo can clearly see that, cause hell, hes fuckin tired too.
“I should have kept you sedated.” Leo says, knowing he never once put him under sedation. “That’s called elderly abuse.” “And you’re how old?” “Do I really- okay I see that face, alright.” Leonardo moves his hand to cover Leo’s face and shoves him back. “You got me. Whatever, you absolute child.” Leo cackles.
and fleo's pov on the matter is, well, i kinda already typed it out all the way in chapter 5
The world of this timeline said that Leo will be able to make up for his mistake with the key. Not him, the world said.
he looks at leo and feels so much pride, but hes scared that leo thinks less of him. leo managed to save the world and he didnt. and now hes here fucking up a perfectly good happy ending that didnt need to include him.
and on a little more selfish level, "why wasnt i good enough" fleo is thinking.
he doesnt think leo as the superior version of the two of them, but the fact still stands. one of them won. the other didnt. and he sometimes wishes he won too. its complicated.
they dont hate each other, not even a little bit. theyre too good of people to hate each other
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When you bring your pet to a veterinary hospital with a time-sensitive (or emergent) problem, they will likely ask you for two things; emergency consent and a CPR status. It's good to know what that means and have your answers ready in advance.
Emergency consent is permission to start medical treatment to stabilize an animal in unstable condition. In time-sensitive situations, it may not be appropriate to delay basic care long enough to speak to the owner in depth and provide an itemized treatment plan. This care may involve placing an IV catheter, starting fluids, running simple diagnostic tests, administering certain medications, and providing oxygen and/or heat support. They will often name a cost (say, $500), with the expectation that they won't go over that amount without returning to speak to you about your pet's status and their recommendations. You are fully within your rights to decline emergency consent, but depending on the situation the delay may adversely affect the outcome of the case. If you're not prepared for this question it can sound like a demand for money, but think of it more as a request for information about your financial situation; they don't want to inadvertently bankrupt you providing care you can't afford, but if you can afford it, it would be best to start now.
A CPR status is a guideline for what you want them to do if your pet goes into cardiopulmonary arrest while in the hospital. This condition quickly leads to death, but in some cases prompt intervention can return spontaneous circulation and ventilation. CPR for cats and dogs involves chest compressions similar to human CPR, as well as intubation and manual ventilation to provide oxygen, the use of emergency drugs such as lidocaine and atropine, and in rare cases, the use of a defibrillator. Depending on the cause of the arrest, success rates for CPR vary wildly. A healthy pet who arrests under anesthesia for an elective procedure may have up to a 50% chance of resuscitation, while an elderly pet in organ failure who arrests in the car on the way to the hospital may have a vanishingly small chance. There are costs associated with CPR, and even when it succeeds, post-resuscitation care typically involves a hospital stay and further treatment. There are certainly cases where a "Do Not Resuscitate" order may be the best choice for your pet, but it's a very personal decision. (Keep in mind that for safety's sake emergency vets will typically ask for a CPR status before admitting any patient to the ICU or starting a sedated/anesthetized procedure, so the question itself does not mean that your pet is on the verge of death. )
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Maybe it's mental association with Mr Brown*, but I've always thought of Mr Young as driving a Rover or a Wolseley. It just so happens that my own Dad was a Wolseley man.
Mr Young's car would be quite old - "elderly" and "two decades" are canonical - so might possibly be something like these, with their sedate exteriors and wood-veneered, leather-upholstered "gentleman's club" interiors:
Despite its age his car would still be concourse-handsome because he washes and waxes it regularly, and it would still run like a sewing-machine because he attends to proper maintenance at the correct intervals in which proper maintenance should be done.
The result is, his car wouldn't look like it's just come out of the factory.
The patina from all those years of careful ownership make it look far better than that.
*****
As The Good Book puts it:
It was an elderly car, but well preserved. Not using Crowley’s method, though, where dents were simply wished away; this car looked like it did, you knew instinctively, because its owner had spent every weekend for two decades doing all the things the manual said should be done every weekend. Before every journey he walked around it and checked the lights and counted the wheels. Serious-minded men who smoked pipes and wore moustaches had written serious instructions saying that this should be done, and so he did it, because he was a serious-minded man who smoked a pipe and wore a moustache and did not take such injunctions lightly, because if you did, where would you be? He had exactly the right amount of insurance. He drove three miles below the speed limit, or fifty-five miles per hour, whichever was the lower. He wore a tie, even on Saturdays.
* Mr Brown is from the "Just William" book series by Richmal Crompton. These are some of my well-used reading copies.
For anyone who'd like to compare "that little devil" William Brown ("William - The Outlaw" etc.) with THE Little Devil Adam Young ("William - The Antichrist")...
...several of the earliest Williams (pub. dates 1922 to 1927) are on Gutenberg.
Crowley has the Bentley, he is the Bentley’s and the Bentley is his. The question on everyone’s minds is would Aziraphale have a Morris minor with a tartan blanket in the boot and a picnic hamper?
That's Mr Young's car you're thinking of.
#Good Omens novel#Neil Gaiman#GNU Terry Pratchett#classic cars#British cars#Dad cars#Richmal Crompton#Just William
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Top Tips for Senior Dental Health and Care
Top Tips for Senior Dental Health and Care
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21st at 7 PM Nederland Family Dental Open New Practice
We are just a few days away! The big hunt starts Monday October 21st at 7PM! Over the last DECADE, Nederland Family Dental: G. Whitney Gomez, DDS has been faithful to sponsor the hunt and we are so thankful!
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If you are a patient of Dr. Gomez, share this post and give a shout-out below to let him know we appreciate is sponsorship since we started this hunt 10 years ago!
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Comprehensive Family Dentistry: Your Smile Awaits
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