#I was barely keeping down feeding tube formula

[wheelie-sick]

as Christmas quickly approaches I wanted to give a word to people who celebrate. if you have people in your life who struggle to/can't eat for whatever reason please be kind and patient with them. Christmas is a very food-centered holiday so when you can't eat or have a hard time eating it becomes a very stressful and isolating holiday. when you are sitting at a dinner table surrounded by people eating it's often a cruel reminder of what you can't do and how you don't fit into the group. be kind to your disabled loved ones if they choose to excuse themselves from the dinner table entirely.

to the people who can't/struggle to eat, I know the impending doom of Christmas dinner is arriving. you are part of the group that you chose to celebrate with even if you can't celebrate the same way. it's easy to feel excluded from the group when you can't participate in a core part of the celebration but you are so important to that group of people. you are not obligated to sit at the dinner table if it brings up negative feelings for you and you certainly do not owe anyone making yourself sick for the sake of participating. dealing with gastrointestinal disease is more traumatic than people realize and you're allowed to have a complicated relationship with food that might even include not wanting to be around it. be gentle with yourself 💕

-> this post is about gastrointestinal disorders but people with other conditions affecting Christmas dinner are welcome to relate as well

[stargazer-sims]

Journal Entry 55 (part two)

Journal Entry #55 (part one) // STORY INDEX

Victor

To say I'm devastated by this latest development in Yuri's health situation would be a major understatement.

Logically, I know Dr. Kasongo is right. Given Yuri's history, it's not likely his challenges with food and eating will resolve without some sort of intervention. And I know the treatment plan she proposed is in his best interests, but the idea of him requiring a feeding tube is a reality I'm struggling to accept. It feels so much like defeat to me that just thinking about it makes me want to cry.

As awful as this may sound, it's kind of a blow to my own self-perception too. I like to think of myself as a protector, someone who finds solutions and keeps people away from harm, but this is a reminder that regardless of my desire to shield Yuri from everything painful or scary or sad, there are some things I'll never be able to protect him from.

As for Yuri, he seems oddly calm about the whole thing, which leaves me a little taken aback. I'd overheard him tell his mother he'd be okay with a tube, but I really hadn't imagined he was serious. I thought, when it came right down to it, this would be something he absolutely would not want.

I'll confess, being wrong in my prediction about Yuri's reaction is bothering me. On one hand, I'm glad he didn't seem overly upset or frightened by the prospect of having a feeding tube, but on the other hand, I feel ashamed for presupposing he would be. Like, I thought I understood him pretty well, and it's eye-opening to find out that might not be the case. There's a lot about his disability and how he copes with it psychologically and emotionally that I really have no clue about, and it's becoming obvious I don't comprehend the daily challenges he faces with his illness as well as I thought I did. Let me tell you, that realization is hitting me hard.

Maybe the most sobering thought of all is how much I've taken my own health for granted. I've always admired Yuri's courage and resilience, but seeing it now makes me question how I'd handle everything if I were in his place. I could barely cope with the pain of my broken arms or the inconvenience of my temporary vision loss. There's no way in hell I could keep going if I had a chronic illness like his, and I know I'd be a total wreck if some doctor said she wanted to cut into my belly and put a tube in there, and that all my meals would be liquid formula going directly into my stomach for the next three to six months.

Yeah, that's what Dr. Kasongo ultimately concluded would be the best option; a gastrostomy tube, or G-tube. I thought she might suggest going the least invasive route, which would've been a NG tube, which is the kind they insert through a patient's nose, but she explained that sort of tube is for short-term use only, like four weeks or less. She said there'd be a lower risk of infection with the G-tube, and because she thinks Yuri could be using it for up to six months, she wanted something that'd be safer for him and wouldn't interfere too much with his quality of life.

The drawback of that kind of tube is that it has to be placed surgically. I didn't like the idea of Yuri needing an operation, but Dr. Kasongo explained to me that it's not major surgery and that there shouldn't be anything to worry about. It's a routine procedure with a very small incision, she said, and it only takes half an hour to forty-five minutes, not counting time spent in the recovery area.

I wasn't all that reassured, and I think she could tell I was anxious, but I did my best to put on a brave face and thanked her for trying to lay my fears to rest.

She went on to tell me about what would happen after the procedure, too. Later in the day, once Yuri was fully awake and alert, a nurse would teach us how to prepare and administer the formula, and how to clean the tube, and pretty much everything to do with taking care of it. And then the doctor told me that if all went according to the plan, Yuri could go home the following day. That seemed hasty to me, but I didn't comment. After all, she's the doctor and she's done this loads of times. It's not up to me to question her professional judgment.

In the estimation of the doctor, it should only take a couple of weeks for Yuri to heal from his surgery. She said once the incision is healed, he'll be able to do most of the activities he was doing before, including — to my amazement — swimming. He won't be able to do any exercises that use the abdominal muscles extensively, but that's okay. We can modify his fitness routine.

It might not be obvious to everyone who first meets him, but Yuri is an active person. He's not hardcore like me, but when he's feeling well, he likes to go hiking, do yoga, skate, swim, dance and go snowboarding. I'm not sure if dancing and yoga are going to be particularly G-tube friendly, but as long as he can stay active, that's the main thing.

Also, I learned that he'll still be able to eat and drink normally with this type of tube, which I guess makes sense considering the goal is to slowly reintroduce him to eating. For the first couple of weeks, it's supposed to be formula only, and then we're supposed to add real food and decrease the amount of formula over time until he's eating like a typical person. I think it's probably going to be a battle, at least in the beginning, but Yuri seems uncharacteristically committed to the plan, so we'll see.

One thing that concerns me, which I haven't talked about with the doctor yet, is how all of this is going to impact our move. We'd been focused on other things that might've interfered with our plans, such as my recovery, and the ongoing legal drama with Ren, and possibly now more legal issues with Hana. I'm sure we both realized Yuri's health could be a factor as well, but for some reason, we've never brought it up.

But, here's the thing. The closing date for our new house is the eighteenth of May, and our flight is scheduled a few days before that. If Yuri's going to be doing his nutrition rehabilitation therapy for the next several months, the date of our flight is going to fall right in the middle of it. He can't interrupt his therapy, and even with Dr. Kasongo calling in a favour to get him on Dr. Kim's patient list, I don’t know how long he might have to wait for an actual first appointment. Plus, even if Dr. Kim could see him in May, I doubt we'd get referrals to a nutritionist and a psychologist back home quickly enough for him to just resume it seamlessly when we get there. Depending on what's involved, he might be able to do it remotely over video chat or something, but with a literal twelve-hour time difference between Japan and eastern Canada, I'm not sure if any healthcare professional here would be willing to go for it.

All of that is assuming he can even travel at all. If he can't, I'm really scared that we're going to have to be apart for a while because one of us has to be there to sign the papers for the closing on our house, and there's no way I'm missing my mom's wedding. What might end up happening is that I'll go home alone in May, stay there until after the wedding, and then come back to be with him until we can finally move to our new home together. Obviously that wouldn't be ideal, but it might be the only viable solution.

I decided I'd talk it over with Mom and Julian to get their thoughts. I'd need to tell them in any case, and break the news that they might not have a violinist for their wedding after all. They wouldn't be as concerned about their wedding music as they would be about Yuri himself, but they'd still need time to adjust their plans.

I made a mental list of who else I'd need to inform of this change in circumstances. Fortunately it was a short one, consisting of Yuri's boss, or maybe the HR person at his firm, and his parents.

Yuri's parents...

As if I didn't have enough on my plate, it fell to me to explain everything Mr. and Mrs. Okamoto. I didn't picture them taking it well, and unfortunately, I wasn't too far off with my guess.

Mrs. Okamoto seemed outwardly calm, but that was nothing less than I expected from her. She's not the sort of person who shows her emotions publicly. Somebody who knows her really well might know what to look for, but I'm not acquainted intimately enough with her for that. Judging by the way she was squeezing her husband's hand while I was describing everything to them, though, I'd say she was a lot less tranquil on the inside than she appeared on the outside.

As for Mr. Okamoto, he was clearly very upset, but he was trying his best to hide his feelings from me. I think he could've learned a thing or two from his wife about how to put on a stoic expression, because he wasn't doing a particularly good job of it. The way he hunched in on himself, and how his face got slightly red and the muscles at the edges of his mouth visibly tightened were almost an exact mirror of how Yuri looks when he's trying not to cry.

It came as a bit of a shock when it occurred to me that I could read my father-in-law's face and body language just as well as I can read Yuri's. I was even more stunned when my first reaction to his distress was compassion.

I mean, not that I'm an unsympathetic person, but up till recently I hadn't had that many positive feelings about my father-in-law. He'd never been particularly kind to me and showed every sign of not liking me, and I'll admit the dislike was mutual.

Up until my accident, I figured that's how it was always going to be. Or maybe it's got more to do with this recent serious flare-up of Yuri's illness than with my injuries, but whatever prompted the change, I'm not complaining or questioning it. It's been a relief, not being in a constant state of walking on eggshells around him. He's been much nicer to me lately, and we've been getting to know each other better, which is a comfort given our current circumstances.

Dr. Kasongo did Yuri's surgery this morning, and Mr. Okamoto came to the hospital to wait with me.

They put us in a nice waiting room with vibrant art on the walls and comfortable blue sofas to sit on. There were non-perishable snacks and a variety of teas, but neither of us had anything. I can't speak for Mr. Okamoto, but I was too stressed to think about matcha or spicy rice crackers. We sat next to each other on a sofa, engulfed in the most weighty silence of all time.

I thought we were going to pass the entire morning like that, but then Mr. Okamoto cleared his throat two or three times like he was trying to work up the nerve to say something. I turned slightly to look at him.

"Uh... are you okay?" I asked. It came out sounding shaky and weird, and I briefly wondered if somebody should be asking me that exact same question.

He raised his gaze to meet mine. Several heartbeats later, he said, "i owe you an apology."

I'm not even gonna pretend I wasn't shocked by that. Caught completely off-guard by the abrupt declaration, I stammered, "What? I mean... like, what for?"

He sighed and looked away from me again. "For a lot of things, if we're being perfectly honest. You're a good man, Victor. I'm sorry that I was too proud and too set in my ways to see that before now," he said. "I misjudged you without even truly knowing you, and I'm sorry for that."

"It's okay," I said, even though it kinda wasn't.

The truth is, his blatant prejudice, dislike and disapproval had hurt both Yuri and me, but Yuri especially, and I was not okay with that. Yuri and I have both been making an effort to rehabilitate our relationship with him, but trust and forgiveness are processes, and neither is achieved instantaneously just because somebody says sorry. He has a lifetime of broken trust to mend with Yuri, and although I've only known him for a few years, it feels like a lifetime for me as well. Maybe it's my proximity to Yuri and my love and empathy for him that makes it feel so personal, or maybe I'm just too sensitive. Either way, Mr. Okamoto's apology wasn't like some magic spell that'd repair everything in the blink of an eye.

Still, he seemed sincere, and I wanted to trust him. The trouble was, I had no idea how I was supposed to respond to this sudden outpouring of contrition from him. I said, "Live and learn, right?"

"Indeed," he said. "I think that was something I'd forgotten for a while. To live and learn. It was you and Yuri who helped me remember. The two of you, and your parents."

"How'd we do that?"

"No way in particular," he said. "Perhaps that's the most ironic part."

I was thoroughly confused at that point and had to admit, "I... kinda feel like I'm missing something here, Okamoto-san."

"Kenji," he said.

Again I blurted, "What?"

"My name is Kenji," he said, as if I didn't already know. "I think you've earned the right to call me that, and besides, we're family."

Dumbfounded, all I could do was stare at him.

"You're supposed to thank me," he prompted gently.

"Right. Uh... thank you." I dipped a little bow as best I could while sitting. "I'm honoured."

"It's fine if you're not comfortable with it," he said.

"It might take some getting used to," I told him. "But, I really am honoured. Back home, when we're adults, we pretty much just call most other adults by their given name, you know? I had to learn a whole new set of rules when I got here, so I get how big of a deal this is."

"I understand," he said. "I do a lot of business with people in North America, so I've had to get used to new social customs too. But, you've done very well, integrating into our way of life. I used to think foreigners could never do that."

"Because you thought we weren't willing to adapt?"

"That, and because some of you seem to think your way is superior," he said.

"Some people probably do think that," I agreed. "I don't. Just because somebody else's culture isn't the same as mine, that doesn't make it bad or inferior. Plus, it's interesting to learn new stuff. You know, to see things from other people's point of view."

He nodded. "That's something I learned from you and Yuri. To see things from somebody else's perspective. How else could the two of you come together the way you have if you didn't know how to be open to other ways of life and points of view?"

"I'm not sure I ever thought of it that way," I said. "I didn't fall in love with him because he's Japanese, and I didn't fall in love with him despite that either. I love him because... well, because he's Yuri. All I saw was him. And yeah, I do know we're different, but literally everybody's different from everybody else, so..."

"You see, that's something else I've learned from you."

I raised an eyebrow. "Something else?"

"Open-mindedness. Selflessness. How to love without prerequisites or conditions," he said. "I'll confess, I was surprised how much of that I saw in my son when I finally opened my eyes and started paying attention." He offered me a tiny smile. "Maybe he learned it from you as well."

"He already knew all that," I said.

"Perhaps," Mr. Okamoto said. "In my experience, Yuri has never been very good at putting other people ahead of himself. Neither am I, honestly. But he does it for you, even to his own detriment sometimes."

"Yeah," I said. "Sometimes I wonder if he understands his limits."

"I think he does," he said. "It's simply that there are people who become so important to you, people you love so deeply, that you're willing to ignore your limits for them. The downside, of course, is that you become more vulnerable to being hurt."

"I'd never hurt Yuri. Not on purpose."

"I know," he said. "That's not what I meant. My point was, Yuri trusts you so completely, he's willing to give himself just as completely to you without being afraid of getting hurt."

"Because he knows if I do hurt him it's not intentional, and I'll always try to make it right. I'll always protect him and take care of him," I said. "As much as anyone can protect another person, anyway. There's some stuff..." I let the sentence fade, because if I started talking about the reason why the two of us were sitting there in a hospital waiting room, I knew I'd end up bawling my eyes out. No way did I want to do that in front of my father-in-law.

"There are things no one can keep anyone safe from." Mr. Okamoto finished the thought for me. "No matter how much we want to."

"It's hard," I said. "Not being able to. And realizing I can't is just... I don't know. It doesn't matter that my brain understands I can't, 'cause it still feels like a stab to the heart. It still feels like I'm failing somehow."

He didn't respond to that right away, and a lull of several seconds stretched between us. The silence was less tense than when we were first shown into the waiting room, but it was little uncomfortable for me nevertheless.

Just when I was about to say some random banal thing to break the quietness, Mr. Okamoto did something unbelievable. Well, okay... by objective standards, it wasn't all that incredible, but it was nothing short of remarkable for him.

He put his hand on my shoulder.

"You're not a failure, Victor." He said it so softly that I might not have caught it if we hadn't been sitting next to each other. "You're extraordinary, in fact."

I looked up at him. "I—" I began, but language totally failed me.

"A man is only a failure if he stops trying," my father-in-law said. "Maybe he can't protect the people he loves from everything, but he hasn't failed unless he stops letting them know he'd move the Earth itself to keep them safe if he could." His voice dropped to a near-whisper again, "He fails if he forgets to tell them he loves them. But you... I think you'll never forget that."

"I hope I never will," I said.

"So do I," he said. "My son needs you."

"He needs you too." The reply slipped out before I even fully recognized the thought was in my head. I panicked for a second, fearful Mr. Okamoto would take it as a rebuke.

To my absolute astonishment, I saw tears in his eyes. "I know," he said. "I lost sight of that, but I'll do better."

I studied him for a moment, and he didn't shift his gaze from mine. Everything about his demeanour was earnest. I said simply, "I believe you."

He nodded, maybe more to reassure himself than to acknowledge my expression of faith in him. Then, he uttered three words that never in a million years would I have imagined him directing towards me.

"Thank you, Victor."

[jaws-and-canines]

Love Languages

A Count The Days story. Content warning for themes of chronic illness, but it’s generally pretty fluff-y.

---

Curled up in the high-backed chair, Cecil is sleeping peacefully with his book on his chest. His cheeks are rosy for the first time in a while, not flushed with pain, rosy from spending time out in the garden. His hair is combed and he’s washed it recently, dark golden ringlets spilling down his face. He’s even got dressed- a brown jumper and pale yellow shirt.

You could almost forget how ill he looked a few weeks ago. Nelson remembers, but he also looks at what’s right in front of him and he adores the sight. The storm has broken and it’s beautiful. The doctors like to talk about ups and downs, but Nelson likes to think of the flux in Cecil’s health as seasons.

There’s bright summers, where everything is good and it’s laminated adapted recipes and going out for walks. Autumn, where things are starting to go downhill. Where recipes become a constant battle with Cecil’s body to make something that’ll get nutrition into him. It’s running tube feeds overnight to keep Cecil’s caloric intake up and making hot water bottles to soothe cramps and aches and pains. It’s looking at blood test results together and wondering if it’ll be this week or next week that winter does come. And they do, with infections and flare ups and middle-of-the-night hospital admissions, Nelson desperately trying to soothe Cecil when he’s screaming with pain and helping him put his clothes on over a body that’s barely more than skin and bones. Weeks where Cecil simply can’t eat, and it’s just high-density feeds and nothing else.

Right now, it's spring. The beginning of a thaw. Nelson smiles at Cecil as he shifts and his eyes flutter open. “Good morning,” he says quietly. “How are you?” Cecil rubs his eyes and sits up, putting his book on the arm of the chair. “Mmm,” he says quietly. “Better. I feel hungry.” Nelson nods. It’s always a good sign when Cecil starts to feel hungry again. “Would you like something to eat? I’m making my lunch,” he asks. “If you’re feeling up to it, of course.” “What are you doing?” he asks, sniffing the air. “Chicken bone broth,” says Nelson. “I’ll water it down for you.” Cecil stretches like a cat, both hands above his head. “Oh, you don’t have to change your meal for me! I’ll be fine,” he says. “Nonsense,” says Nelson. 

Nelson’s love language is food. If you asked him why, then, he’d married a man with chronic gastrointestinal problems, Nelson would tell you you had missed the point of a love language. To him, it is hours in the kitchen with lists of safe ingredients for Cecil, rewriting recipes, hundreds of failed attempts at breads and pastries. On a thick binder of adapted recipes, meals ranging from thin broths to carefully-cooked cuts of red meat. To the pantry being meticulously organised, Cecil’s formula next to a glass jar of gluten-free sourdough starter, next to labelled spice jars, next to free from noodles and cake mixes.

It means sticking to the promise he made when they signed the civil partnership- that as long as they lived together, anything that was in the kitchen, Cecil could eat if he wanted. Nothing in my house, said Nelson, will be something that will make you ill.

When Nelson met Cecil, he wasn’t particularly unwell, and had no idea that anything untowards was going on. It was a few months into their dating when Cecil became very ill very quickly, and ended up in Intensive Care. The doctors said Celiacs, the doctors said Chrons’, the doctors said a whole host of intolerances. They’d said surgery, feeding tubes and major lifestyle changes.

Cecil had called Nelson in tears to explain what was going on. Are you going to break up with me? he’d asked. It would be okay if you wanted to break up with me. Absolutely not, Nelson said. He took compassionate leave and got on the first train to London. A year and a half later, he’d proposed to Cecil.

Nelson smiles at the memory and brings the soup to a boil. He pours out half a bowl, watering it down with water from their filter tap. Puts a spoon in it and wiping his hands on his apron, takes it out to Cecil. He rests it gently on the table beside his chair. “Thank you,” says Cecil, with a little giggle of delight.

“Always,” says Nelson, and fetches his bowl. He sits down in his chair and looks out into the garden. It’s sunny. There are apples on the tree, new and green.�� Apple pie, he thinks to himself. He’s going to try apple pie.

[innerheadcase]

I dunno yet

She awoke from a groggy sleep and quickly discovered she couldn't move. Was she still asleep?

No, that's not right. Move your arms, damn it!

She screamed in her head as she tried to move her hands up to look at them but nothing happened. She concentrated hard on her dominant hand and was able to turn her head to see a leather strap running across the sheet to her wrist.

Am I tied down?

Just then a tall figure walks into the room and fiddles with something just out of her line of sight. As he approaches her bedside she can’t make him out. Her vision is fuzzy and she blinks trying to clear but it doesn’t help.

He twists a syringe to the IV tube and pushes the medication in slowly. Her eyes fall heavy and her breathing slows again.

He nods to himself and removes the syringe to discard in the trash. Going back to her bed he begins his daily physical exam. Checking head to toe for changes in her skin and removing her restraints to perform several range of motion exercises then securing her limbs back down. Last on his exam today was removing her stitches. He pulled off the bandaging and pulled out a disposable suture removal kit. He laid the kit on the bed while he documented his wound assessment then removed her stitches and redressed the area while the wound was completely sealed but her freshly removed sutures would leave small openings and he wanted to ensure no infection of this latest test subject. She was lucky he was there to save her.

One of the street dealer’s he had been keeping an eye on stabbed her with a dirty shive and left her to die in a dirty alley behind a dumpster. Lucky for her the idiot had no idea how to kill his victim. He packed the wound and transported her in the trunk of his surveillance sedan. He had to torch it after he got her back to his test lab and repaired the damage to her right hepatic vein. Luckily it was just a nick to the vein and she just bled a lot. No lasting damage to the liver.

He then hooked up a fresh bag of IV saline and used her feeding tub to push the special formula of TPN food down to her stomach. She needed 2 more days of rest before he woke her fully. Then she would need physical therapy to gain her strength back. He hadn’t quite perfected the sleeping beauty tranquilizer he was using on her but this test subject was going to be for his mind control drug that he just finished synthesizing. It was a combination of GHB, MDMA, Scopolamine and Amphetamines; with enough dosing of each to arouse, sedate, and lower the inhibitions. Combine this mind control sex drug with intimidation techniques like isolation and sleep deprivation and his subjects should be minimally coereable for sexual intimacies . He planned on making her a sex slave. If this worked he could make this drug marketable to sex trafficers and underground slave rings. It would heighten sexual arousal when administered. He was hoping to turn it into pill form to make it easier to administer than heroin.

Easier than heroin… What if I could make this into a transdermal patch with continuous delivery!?

He was mentally laying out a plan to test the raw form via injection for this subject and see what dosing worked optimally. This was going to be months of research. He was to have to grab his voice recorder so he could easily document during the experiment and while she was sucking him off.

One week later, she was curled up on the bare mattress in a small dark room. She knew he was coming because at the top of the door was a tiny window that she could see when the light was turned on. Burying her face in the mattress she tried to hide from him. He always came and gave her an injection. At first it made her throw up but now her brain just felt foggy all the time.

The door opened and he stepped inside.

“Come here girl.” His voice was stern.

She crawled to the edge of the mattress and onto the concrete floor. She knelt in front of him without question as this was the routine. She stared at his brown boots every time. He stooped down and cleaned her arm with an alcohol pad before giving her the shot.

She whimpered as she swayed to the other side, away from him. He finished and engaged the safety as he stood. Observing her as she passed out within 45 seconds. He shook his head disappointed at this result.

“The 4th dosage of 0.10mL of concentrate is still too strong when given IM route. Subject unconscious within 60 seconds of administration. Consider dilution by 0.10mL for every 0.10mL of concentrate for the next administration in 6 hours,” Pausing his dictation to look at his watch, “ at 20 hundred hours.” He switched off the recorder and put it back in his pocket. Picking her up and laying her back on the mattress. He sat in the chair across the room to observe her for 15 minutes before leaving to prepare his notes.

As he stood up to leave she moaned in her sleep and bucked her hips slightly. He paused to watch and she did it again. He reached a hand out and cupped her sex, applying pressure to her mound and rubbing back and forth. She moaned and arched her back into his touch so he slipped a finger inside and met resistance just inside.

“Fuck.” he whispered.

She was a virgin and still had her membrane intact. How the hell did she get into being a junkie and still having her virginity, he wondered. Pulling his hand back he laid down between her legs and started kissing her lips and flicking his tongue across her clit as he teased her. This was the best way to get her to orgasm without breaking her hymen. Within 5 minutes he had her orgasming and bucking into his mouth. She tasted sweet as honey as he licked up her pleasure.

She opened her eyes and her cheeks flushed as she realized what happened.

“Good girl.” He praised her right away.

She closed her eyes and bucked her hips again.

“Do you want more, girl?” He asked.

She nodded.

“Good girl.” He cooed. Unbuttoning his jeans he slipped his boxers and jeans off in one motion as he settled between her legs, his body pinning hers down. He shifted his hips and she felt the tip of his cock rest up against her folds.

“This is going to be uncomfortable at first but I know you’re going to be a good girl and relax.”

She nodded her head and her hands came up to press against his chest as he thrust into her. He was big and filled her. He stayed still letting her body adjust to his size before he began slowly thrusting in short thrusts. Once she was slick with her wetness

[wizkiddx]

worst case scenario part 5

finally!! so sorry its been an age to anyone still here but lives been interesting atm so....  also this really feels a bit rambley and the ending is deff underdeveloped but I just kind of wanted this done tbh x 

[previous part] [part 1] 

warnings:  hospitals - ICU, ventilation that sort of stuff, just a lot of ANGST post a difficult birth - please don't read if this could be upsetting for you, and my inbox is always open if u wanna chat :) 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In a complete 360 degree flip from earlier that day, after leaving the hospital Tom had become obsessively attached to Aurora. They’d got back to his parents place in Tom’s car; Aurora in the carseat Y/n and Tom had ready in their car door for her arrival. Clearly his parents had already pre-warned his brothers, who had thankfully already gone over to Tom and Y/n’s - collecting the Moses basket amongst other items Harry had been listed off from his mother. 

Apart from explaining a little behind her name to his parents on the journey back, Tom had spoken very little, choosing to keep himself to himself - physically stationing himself beside the Moses basket the whole time. Of course, there had been a bit of light conversation and almost procedural passing round of Aurora between all her uncles and grandparents, which Tom had kept a wether eye on - but ultimately not engaged. 

He also knew that physically his body was failing him. Although eating a little of the lasagne Sam had made for everyone, he could only stomach a minuscule amount, which did little to boost his energy levels. It felt as though sleeping was the enemy, because he was neither ready to leap into the car if the phone went; or to hear the smallest sound from the wicker basket, suggesting something was wrong. So as much as he tried to fight it, before even nine o’clock he began to dose off on the familiar couch of his parents sitting room - occasionally jerking himself awake before loosing the fight once again.

Nikki had tried to gently push him to take a break in the spare bedroom, which had been Tom’s before he’d moved out, but was unsuccessful - every time he retaliated with a stern shake of his head, while checking his phone just in case he’d missed a notification. Eventually Nikki relented, later in the evening both her and Dom retiring to bed; once Sam had agreed to stick around downstairs till a bit later - as a chef he worked till late in the nights, so even on his days off like today, his sleep schedule was just a little fucked. 

Left alone with his new little niece and now pretty firmly asleep brother, Sam draped a blanket over the latter just in time for Aurora to start fussing in the need of a bottle. His mum had explained how to do everything, how to mix the formula and heat it up, so after scooping up the little wriggling girl in the hope his brother wouldn’t get disturbed, Sam dealt with her. To be honest no matter how clueless and useless he felt, Aurora was just so cute - if a little wrinkly and alien looking, but in a good way. This was the first baby any of them had had, so the first time Sam experienced this instant connection and love for the little being that was his niece or nephew. It was terrifying, lifting the bottle against her lips for the first time, but then it just sort of seemed to work. She was incredibly smart for less than 24 hours old, instantly latching on, like she had done for Haz at the hospital. 

That gave Sam a little confidence in his ability as an uncle, giving himself a satisfied nod while swaying from the kitchen to move back into the living room. It was just a preference to be within reach of Tom… just in case. His poor brother still hadn’t moved, slumped against the corner of the sofa, leaning toward the now empty Moses basket. Normally, Sam seeing his supposed heart throb of a brother looking as rough as he did now - double chin, mouth hanging slightly open, deep sunken eyes - he would’ve taken a photo to blackmail him with. Now though, it was just desperately sad, seeing his brother like this, hand still clutching his phone tightly above the blanket. 

Rather hoping the calm would last for a while, Sam successfully finished off feeding Aurora; winded and then put her down to sleep again just in time. Because, perhaps expectedly, Tom’s phone began to blare off the default iPhone ringtone making Tom jump and throw the device across the room as he awoke with a start. Sam ran to grab it off the floor, mainly with the hope of turning it off before Aurora was awoken too - knowing that it was best tonight to tackle one thing at a time. 

And so he immediately swiped to answer the call, not even registering who the call was from, much rather just wanting the noise to stop. 

“Hello?”

“Sam? It’s Harrison” Tom had jumped up from his seat hovering beside Sam with petrified look. It took barely seconds for Tom to snatch the phone back, launching questions down the receiver. 

“Slow down would you? Y/n is fine I was just phoning to check in.”

“Oh er yeh… um sorry I just… just thought…”

“It’s the other way mate. Nurse says she’s starting to get there cos first she moved her arm a bit when we pinched her shoulder and then I just called because she started to like gag and now the ventilator thing is gone.”

“W-what?”

“I think she’s breathing by herself? Like she’s got an oxygen mask instead of the tubes down her throat.” Clearly Harrison was not, by any means, a medical expert. 

“They said she would have the ventilator for a few days at least.”

“I guess Y/n got bored? To be fair she couldn’t ever sit still.”

“I’m coming to you.”

“Tom it’s nearly midnight, I was supposed to be kicked out at 10. Just come back in the morning, they won’t let you in I’m pretty certain.”

“What if she wakes up!”

“Then they’ll call you! She’s getting better Tom you should be try and relax for like a second.”

“FUCK OFF HAZ! If she wakes up all alone and terrified then-“

“I’m not going to having a screaming match on the phone with you. I think we both know you wanting to come is more for you than for Y/n, because Y/n would want you to be looking after Aurora.”

Again guilt tripping using the newborn. Harsh but effective. Stopping Tom’s anger dead in it’s tracks.

“Look I can put the nurse on for her to tell you they won’t let you in and they’ll call if anything happens - but you already know that.”

“Yeh sorry fine … I know don’t bother.”

“Okay… I’m was gonna head back to my place and I know you’ve probably got your mum begging to fuss over Aurora but if-“

“Can you come?”

“Didn’t need to ask mate.”

And that’s how the night went. Until Harrison arrived at the Holland family home, Tom had spent the time pacing back and forth, blatantly ignoring the pleas of Sam just to sit down. Once he arrived though, going through all the updates in a lot more detail Tom seemed, for the first time, optimistic. By no means could you call him relaxed or happy - but compared to the rollercoaster that had been the last 24 hours, Harrison thought that was more than enough. Aurora had started fussing again at 1 but by the time it had turned into a full blown scream at Tom, Sam already had the bottle ready. It took a little bit of encouragement and promise that Tom would be able to feed her but actually, she instantly latched on, settled in her Dad’s hold while guzzling down the contents of the bottle. 

After a bit of winding she ended up falling asleep on her dads chest, only when he felt himself start to flag did Tom place her back in the basket. Harrison and him ended up crashing on the sofas, Sam retiring to his own room. Phone still tightly clutched in Tom’s grip.

////////////////////

The first thing Y/n became properly aware of was this intense heaviness all over her body. It felt as though her limbs were all composed completely of lead, meaning as much as she was just craving rolling over, it was as though her own body was holding her down. A very alien feeling that unsettled her slightly, trying to shake of the misty feeling in her head to work it all out. It took a while to drag herself out of the depths of sleep, to the point where background noise slowly faded in - an alien beeping as well as distant shuffling making her heart thump with unease. Finally, perhaps most distressingly , her eyes felt glued shut. Not because they were heavy, in the way someone extremely sleep deprived cant keep their eyes open; rather stiff like they hadn’t been used in so long they’d rusted over or something. 

The feeling  was quite horrific and isolating- as though she were locked into her body without an escape in sight. Whilst trying to calm her racing thoughts, Y/n chose to focus completely on the one thing she could do. She could listen. She listened to the beeps, focusing on the type of sound, the way it chimed so regularly; and it’s form. It was familiar, for that she was sure but for now at least she couldn’t place it. 

It felt like an investigation, trying with all her might to try and workout what the fuck was going on. To put it mildly. 

The most useful clue though, a breakthrough if you will, is when a voice sounded - clear and familiar. 

“Excuse me nurse?” It was Nikki. For sure. It was a clue, but didnt seem to make a hell of a lot of sense. Y/n was so focused on why the hell Nikki was apparently watching her sleep unconscious, she completely missed the reference to the nurse. As in hospital. As in Y/n was in hospital. “… I’m just going to swap out for my sons friend.”

“Harrison?” That voice seemed new and unfamiliar.

“Yes, he won’t be a second I’m sure.”

What was Harrison doing here too? 

It was all very confusing and hurt Y/n’s brain to try and unpick. Gradually then, everything sort of melted away, diving back into the darkness.

The next time Y/n woke up things were different. This time she woke up like she would at any time of day. She woke up and her eyes followed suit. Not particularly easily, since as soon as they cracked open she was almost blinded by brilliant white lights, it taking a build up of willpower before she tried it again - bracing for the pain. 

By now she knew something was wrong. She remembered all these patchy and hazy periods. All full of confusion and disorientation but with different voices keeping her at least semi calm. Familiar voices, all too often laced with such emotion. Especially Tom’s. She couldn’t remember what he had said, nor had she probably been able to understand it at the time - what stuck was the tone. The sadness, the hopelessness , the emptiness. 

It was scary. But it made her want to help. Made her want to open her eyes. 

After wincing at the dazzling white surroundings, Y/n blinked her eyes quickly, in an attempt to get them to adjust quicker. She saw an unfamiliar ceiling, one that was tiled in a similar way to her old school canteen. There was a  weird pressure round her mouth, eyes quickly darting down to see edges of a clear mask pressed up against the bridge of her nose. That wasn’t it though, the further she looked the more her eyes panned down this pale blue blanket, following the outline of her legs to the bottom raised edge of the bed. The hospital bed. 

Her hospital bed. 

As much as she wanted to jump up in panic; physically right now that was an impossibility. So instead, Y/n focused on trying to gleam as much information from the situation. It took a hell of a lot of effort, her muscles literally stiff and ridgid with disuse but with a small groan her neck eventually agreed to follow orders. Just a small tilt to the left and suddenly Y/n felt so much more less panicked. Everything was that bit less scary because there was Tom. 

Admittedly he didn’t look amazing, or even not bad. Tom was sat with his back pressed against the side of chair, so his body faced her. Had he not looked so ruined, Y/n would’ve laughed at the side of his face squashed into the back of the seat. But he did look horrific, for lack of a better word. His brown eyes were locked shut, but also looked puffy and red, while dark at the same time - as though he’d been attempting to gouge his own eyes out prior. He looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks, hence why he had appeared to have collapsed in the arm chair. At least though , he wasn’t in a hospital bed himself.

That was Y/n’s pleasure. 

Her next job was to get her neck muscles to pull her head to the other side. It was a slow wincing gesture, yet she was so aware of another presence that needed to be addressed too. But actually it was 3 people.

Right at the back, a nurse sat on a little spinny chair, scribbling something down in a file of papers but to be quite honest that wasn’t were Y/n’s focus zeroed in on. Instead on Harrison who was sat in chair mirroring Tom, except instead of being passed out asleep he was cradling a baby. Her baby. 

Y/n literally felt her heart in her throat at that point, eye widening almost comically. That was her baby - it must be? The monitors all started to loose their regularity as Y/n threw an uncoordinated limb to that side of the bed- already having realised her throat was way too scratchy to try to say anything comprehensible. 

Immediately that got the attention of both the nurse, who immediately leapt up and called for support, as well as Harrison - who looked like he was seeing a ghost. 

“Oh my-Y/n-?” Luckily he kept the baby safe in his arms rather than dropping her in shock, whilst Y/n kept her eyes locked onto the bundle in his arms. Nodding down, she tried to remove the mask (actually just very slightly knocking it to one side) and attempted to ask of the baby. Her throat, being inhumanly dry and scratchy, didn’t really work but Haz still got the message, scoffing in amazement. 

“Aurora… here’s your mummy.” Harrisons voice was quiet and wavering as he delicately held Aurora against Y/n’s collar bone, the babies little tuft of har tickingling her chin. Now Y/n was crying with happiness, looking up at Haz’s icy blue eyes and questioning her name. Harrison confirmed with another disbelieving whisper, whilst the arm that wasn’t still holding Aurora clasped Y/n’s hand with a death grip. “Tom’s choice.”

The mention of him had both of them shift their gaze across the room to Tom’s chair. Even with all the developments, Tom still seemed completely unaware, fast asleep with the side of his face squished against the back of the chair making his lips slightly askew. Y/n were acutely aware of the small congregation of doctors that had accumulated in the corner of the bay but they seemed to be respectfully waiting before they would prod and poke. Haz went to call Tom’s name, before he could though, Y/n squeezed his arm and minutely shook her head. That wasn’t what the blue eyes boy had been expecting, causing Haz to unfold and bring Aurora back up to his chest as he quirked his eyebrows at her.  

She didnt need to be filled in on the situation to know exactly what was happening. She had no idea why she was in the hospital bed; how long it had been since she’d given birth - but she knew all she needed to. From Harrisons unbelievably shocked face; and from the state of Tom - it hadn’t been good. Her fiancé looked almost ghostly, it seemed evident that he needed her. First then, she gestured to Haz for some water, which after a panicked look to the nurse; then from the nurse to various doctors; she was eventually given permission. 

After somewhat alleviating the sandpaper feeling in her throat, Y/n then croakily asked for a bit of privacy. Right now the doctors all were gawking, Harrison assumed it to be because they’d all led him and Tom to believe she wouldn’t wake up for a while- and even then she was supposed to barely be awake, not able to talk and drink or anything of the sort. With an ecstatic nod Harrison, shuffled out - while doing so prompting the medical people to draw the curtains completely shut round the bay.  

Already Y/n had tears welling up in her eyes, purely because she hated seeing him like this. He just looked so broken and shattered which honestly felt worlds worse than the labour she’d gone through. Her whole body still hurt, stiff and achy for reasons yet to be explained to Y/n. None of that mattered though, as she strained her arm out to the side in order to gently reach his knee that was folded up and sticking out awkwardly at an angle. After swallowing one again, Y/n squeezed round the joint and tried to shake it slightly. Instantly the man jumped up in his seat, heavy eyes blinking quickly and repeatedly as he tried to adjust to the room. 

Being so sleep deprived and stressed out, Tom’s brain was not working normally, instead with a delayed haze as he apparently skipped over Y/n in the bed, rather surveying the the closed curtains and Harrison’s now empty chair. As he was lifting himself to sit more normally up, uncurling from the armchair, was when he noticed the hand on his knee. Breath caught in his chest, Tom instinctively bit his lip as his eyes gradually traced up the hand, to the forearm, up to the shoulder. It felt like a fever dream, as though all it would take is for him to move and she’d slip away again. But there were her green eyes, gleaming in a way that literally lifted a weight from his shoulders. Her smile was tired and a little confused, but so her - after spending days of just seeing all her features lax, Tom swore that it was the most beautiful thing in the world.

Only when Y/n finally croaked out a small ‘hi’ did Tom gain awareness of his body, or rather control of it, enough to leap up and leave over the bed - cradling her face in both his palms. Like a psycho he stared intently, swapping his focus from her left to her right eye like a madman. 

“Your-I-I” He was trying to speak, trying to communicate all the thoughts and regrets of things he wished he’d said to her all at once. Weakly she reached up to fully remove the oxygen mask, dragging It down to below her chin, before squeezing his wrists in comfort. Only then did Tom notice the small puddle that had collected on her cheek, which made him realise he was absolutely bawling. 

“You ‘kay?” Her voice was like sandpaper but everything about her was so completely Y/n and it was just giving Tom this unreal wave of euphoria. Physically incapable of replying, the brunette just scoffed, leaning over the bed even more so he could press his forehead on hers. He was laughing too, the fact she was asking him that seemed so preposterous, given all the tubes and wires attached to her at the moment. It took Y/n squeezing his wrist harder again to make him lean back a little, searching her eyes with his. She seemed so worried; seemed so full of concern - only then did Tom consider quite how much he’d ‘let himself go’ the past couple of days. 

It had been two days since Aurora was born, only 48 hours. But the transformation was mad, none more so than mentally. 48 hours had quite literally changed everything for Tom; changed life forever and himself too. It was showing in his unshaven face, with unwashed  greasy hair, everything just looking ‘tired’.

“‘m just really glad your awake.” It was so honest and sincere it did have Y/n wondering what had happened and for how long. What had she put her fiancé through?

“How long?”

“The worst two and a half days of my life… I got you now though, yeh?” Tom whispered wetly, while stroking the side of her cheek - wiping both his and her tears away.

“Always.”

The doctors and nurses then came in, podding and poking Y/n like no tomorrow while Harrison and Tom stood back a little - excitedly grinning at each other and the sleepy girl Haz was cradling, before Tom stole her off him. There was a momentary sick-to-his-stomach feeling after some of the professionals had cleared, seeing her eyes shut again felt like everything was crashing around him. Thankfully though, one of doctors noticed the look of despair on his face, explaining to the two men that she was just asleep normally. That although sh’ed spent along time unconscious, waking from a medical coma is in itself exhausting. 

After the initial excitement of Y/n waking the next couple of days were pretty samey. She’d been moved down to a normal ward, no longer needed all the incessant bleeping machines but still had to stay in hospital. Tom found it tricky too, he just always felt he needed to be by her side ‘just in case’. In fact, it had been a source of a bit of tension between him and his fiancé - she could see how exhausted he was from looking after Aurora, plus the stress of being in the hospital for hours a day with her. As Y/n got better and more switched on to the state of him, she realised it was inevitable he’d crash at some point.

But after a week and a half in hospital - comprising of a baby, emergency surgery, 3 days on intensive care, followed by 8 on the ward - Y/n was discharged. Nikki and Dom moved in to Y/n and Tom’s place, to provide care support both for Aurora; and Y/n for the rest of her recovery; and secretly Tom for everything he’d been through. 

She was still order on bed rest due to her surgical scars, so Tom and Nikki helped to set her up in the master bedroom as soon as they got in. Of course, everyone was aware of Toms odd mood that day. Until then the only thing he wanted was to get his fiancé back at home with him but now she was over the threshold his excitement and joy appeared to have been zapped out of him. In fact, he’d barely uttered more than a couple sentences. So once Y/n was properly comfortable and Dom had brought Aurora and the cot into the room, Tom’s parents quickly made themselves scarce. 

Tom hadn’t stopped, finding some reason to rummage around in the chest of drawers m while Y/n chewed at her bottom lip, watching him. 

“Tom?” All she got in response was a light hum. “Tom please will you come and sit down for a minute?”

“I just need to-“

“Tom!” Her exclamation finally properly got Tom to listen, jumping round to face her. “Please... please will you just stop for a second?” Y/n’s eyes felt as though they were boring holes in his skull. Really, Tom knew he’d be forced into this at some point because he couldn’t avoid Y/n. She had some power of mind reading over him. So with a defeated nod and sagging shoulders Tom rounded the bed, weaving between his side and Auroras cot - where she was sleeping soundly. 

A silence overcame the room as he heavily planted himself on his side of the bed, mirroring Y/n’s posture leant against the headboard. 

“I think we need to have an honest conversation T.”

“If you want.” Nothing about his reply was the picture of enthusiasm, causing Y/n to hesitate a little. 

“Look I am so beyond grateful for everything you’ve done while I was in hospital... and it doesn’t take a genius to tell you’ve worked yourself half to death-“

“I’m fine-“

“Don’t lie to me. I know you’re trying to protect me but please... will you just talk to me? Honestly?” 

His reply this time wasn’t completely unforeseeable but it still shocked Y/n quite how quickly it happened, especially almost unprovoked. Because that’s all it took for Tom to break, for the past 2 weeks to get their vengance, for all the repressed emotion to escape. 

He was crying- well more accurately sobbing- into his hands, his back quaking. Naturally Y/n reached out to pull him into her side, suppressing the groan of pain as she moved a little too much for her abdomen to handle. “I’m here T. I got you and I’m not going anywhere m‘kay?” 

And that’s how they stayed, for at least 10 minutes, with Tom crying into her shoulder as Y/n rubbed up and down his back. Eventually though, everything did calm down and Tom repositioned himself to lean his head on her shoulder just facing forward and focusing on playing with her fingers, lacing them fingers with his. 

In all the time since she’d woken up, Y/n was yet to broach the subject of their babies name yet. She sensed it was a sensitive topic to say the least, so had thought it best to wait till they were properly alone - not in a ward of 6 strangers where the only privacy came in flimsy blue curtains. 

“So…. Aurora huh? Thought it was too airy-fairy, head-in-the-clouds for you?”  Smiling lightly, both of them were transported back to the pregnancy when they spent hours and hours bickering over names. Aurora had always been Y/n’s favourite but to Tom thought it was more a name for a hippy kid who went around clad in tie dye and bandanas. 

“Still is a bit...but I needed a bit of a miracle and Iceland was in my head. Plus I sort of accidentally word vomited while shouting at Haz, for being nice to me.” Iceland as in when Tom had proposed under the aurora borealis in the freezing sky - when Y/n had agreed, promised even, to be with him forever.

“But you like it?”

“Of course... mother always knows best after all.”

“I think it suits her too. One of your best choices to date, listening to me.” Y/n mused, earning herself a very delicate but still playful elbow in the side before the room drifted back to a much more comfortable silence. 

“We’re gonna get through this you know? Me, you and her, we’re together in this... I’m sorry I wasn’t in the beginning and I’m sorry I hurt you but now? I promise you got me and I’m not going anywhere…” Y/n needed to say it and needed Tom to properly listen. “ ...literally, I still cant walk properly.” Tom chuckled wetly at that, which made Y/n feel a lot better too. 

To be completely honest, Tom was still hurt and he knew it’d take some mending to move past everything. By no means did he blame Y/n in anyway but just the fact he was left alone and abandoned - well, it was the worst time in his life. The way Y/n understood that and had apologised to him - if completely unnecessarily- meant everything. Meant she would help him to heal... whilst he helped her too. 

“Can we just go to sleep? I need to wake up beside you in our bed not at tiny hospital one.” It was only 3 in the afternoon but because of Y/n’s medicine she was constantly drowsy and Tom? Tom was still in this permanent state of exhaustion. So it wasn’t so much of a weird request as it was on the face of it. With a nod, Y/n shuffled down on the bed a bit more resting her head against the top of Tom’s. It was exactly what they both needed, just a bit of peace with each other. 

That lasted all of 5 minutes before Aurora woke and started to scream. 

Life had most definitely changed. Especially for Tom. Because even though he was he was mentally and physically exhausted,  he only appreciated his daughters screams whole heartedly... because Y/n was there groaning with a tired smile too. They were in this together. 

~~~~

 I really hope the ending didnt disappoint too much, im aware its rushed as hell, but thank you for getting this far! And I hope maybe this series has done a teeny tiny bit to normalise not everything in pregnancy and child birth being perfect - that there is morbidity and mortality associated. Obviously this is all fictional (esp the amazingly quick recovery and lack of neurological/other impairments) and not medically accurate in the slightest !!

my inbox is always open :) t x

Tagging : @whitewolf51 

[ask-a-vetblr]

I'm writing something about Sonic Movie and need advice.

Theoretically, how would you, a vet, take care of a very young barely-conscious malnourished anthropomorphic fox (Tails) that has some dehydration and a high-fever (He was hunted by Echidna on Mobius previously and came to Earth, Montana without a winter coat. The weather, fatigue, and his previous dehydration took its toll and he just slept on the ground)? Without using IVs and with anything on hand at home or in a kit you take home? I was thinking that she'd use a baby-bottle of unflavored-Pedialyte (with fever medicine in it) if he still has the nursing instincts (To get him hydrated), put him in a sink-full of luke-warm water (bathe him and help cool his fever down.), and after his gums don't stay white after pressing on them mix formula and unflavored-Pedialyte together (Keep him hydrated and give him nutrition) until his fever goes down enough and he wakes up. Maybe switch to solid foods afterwards?

Any thoughts if this is correct at all?

Hi, Sueanoi here.

I know this is a fictional scenario, but i find it a teachable moment.

Don’t ever put any medication in an animal’s feed without vet consult. You might very well accidentally poison them.

If I, as vet, fall into this situation, I will get that animal an IV there is no arguing me about it. I will drive it to hospital, or buy some iv kit to use at home. The situation sounds like it needs iv. Do not feed an unconscious animal with anything or you risk choking it.

With that said, you can do anything you like in your fictional situation. I hope you find this info useful.

Ferox here.

Don’t give any medications, especially any human medications, unless you know what you’re doing.

I’m not sure what you’re wanting to happen with Tails’ temperature. I assume Montana is cold, so if you have an animal that’s been out and exposed outside where you would expect it’s temperature to drop, but t has a fever, leave it alone until you know what’s going on.

Hydration and glucose are most important for a young animal like this. If you really can’t get an intravenous line for any reason, subcutaneous fluids containing isotonic electrolytes and glucose will help, but it’s not as good as iv.

Tube feeding (placing a tube through the nose or mouth directly into the stomach) to get electrolytes or milk into the young animal is also a possibility, but these are absorbed slower than subcutaneous so the animal needs to be more stable and ideally conscious. You can’t give them a bottle until they are well enough to suckle, or you risk hem inhaling the milk and developing pneumonia.

You don’t really want to use a bath to lower temperature because it’s too fast for a young animal, and the risk of them being too cold too fast is probably a bigger problem than a mild fever.

Possibly more information as to what you want to happen would help us give more detailed answers. You’re welcome to elaborate.

[page-doctor-bekker]

Exposé - msbp!au

(A/N) So this is like, an exposition I guess. It’s necessary for the rest of the story. Ginormous trigger warning for allusions to child abuse, gaslighting + manipulation.

-

-

Sarah's vision blurred, as she faded in and out of consciousness. The pain is intense, and she feels like she might die. This isn't survivable. The worst of the pain hits her all at once, and she lets out a blood-curdling scream into her gag. After that pain, nothing.

"Oh Sarie, I have some bad news," His voice cut through the pain, like a scalpel in her lower back, "You're going to be in a wheelchair for the rest of your life..."

"Good morning Sarie," Sarah's dad sung, turning on the overhead lights as he walked into her room. He was holding a medium-sized pink bin, lined with a sterile sheet to create a sterile field, with a few syringes and medications, as well as sterile gloves, alcohol swabs, and a few other supplies. Sarah was scared awake, letting out a short groan. Her dad pulled a chair up, before pulling on a pair of gloves and disconnecting Sarah's PICC line from her overnight infusion.

He opened up a 10mL saline flush, screwed it onto the end of her line, and slowly pushed the plunger, drained the syringe into the line. Next, he pulled out another syringe, this time a 3mL syringe, half-full with clear liquid. He connected the syringe to the line, and administered the medication. She almost instantaneously felt calmer and sedated, as the Ativan coursed through her system. He proceeded to flush the line with more saline, then a syringe of Heparin. After that flush, he finished off the line by screwing on a swab cap. He tucked the line under the PICC cover, and pulled off and disposed of his gloves. Lastly, he helped Sarah sit up, and guided a small cup of pills into her shaky hand. He gave her a water cup with a straw, and helped her take her pills.

Sarah's dad moved her wheelchair closer to the bed and locked the wheels. He gently took the blankets off of her body, and threaded his left arm under her knees, and his right arm under her armpits around her body. He lifted her into her wheelchair, and buckled up her seatbelt. He hummed to her as he put her minimalist neck brace on to keep her head from flopping forward. The brace had a strap around the back of her neck, with two hard plastic pieces at the sides of her neck. The top of those plastic pieces split off onto a chin pad to hold her chin in place, and the bottoms of the plastic pieces split off into two rods that joined in a v-shape at her sternum.

Sarah’s dad turned off her overnight oxygen concentrator, and started peeling the cannula tape off of her prominent cheekbones. Sarah coughed a few times as the oxygen stopped.

“Today is tube change day,” Her dad announced, and Sarah was wheeled into the kitchen where she was sat at the table. Her dad started rummaging through the formula cabinet, "Do you want something to eat before we leave for the hospital?"

Sarah was quiet for a moment, trying to process those words through her Ativan-jumbled brain, "...Yes..." She finally decided, speaking slowly, "Can... I have... a..." She paused, thinking of what she wanted, "Cereal..."

"Yes," Sarah's dad confirmed, moving to fix her a bowl of cereal. A few quiet, zoned-out minutes later she was presented with a bowl of fruit loops. Her dad fitted the rings of her adaptive spoon onto her pointer finger and her thumb, and she started to spoon her cereal into her mouth. Her dad sat down to supervise as always, to make sure she didn't aspirate.

He multi-tasked, filling her feed bag with four cartons of formula and 8 ounces of Miralax mixed into water. He closed up the bag, and fitted the tubing into the Infinity pump. He flipped the bag upside down, and pushed the button to prime the tube. Once formula started dripping out of the end of the tube, he stopped.

Sarah's dad lifted her shirt, gently pulled the split gauze off from around her tube, and cleaned the area, "Today we have..." He grabbed the small fabric circle from the table, "Purple and pink stripes!" He fitted the tubie pad around her tube and clipped it together, and let her shirt fall.

Sarah finished her cereal, and watched as her dad tucked the bag of formula and the pump into one of Sarah’s various backpacks, and hung it on the back of her wheelchair. This particular backpack was a pale pink, with a panda on the front. On the lower right side of the backpack there was a plastic port where the tubing came out of. On the right side of Sarah’s wheelchair, between the back of the chair and the armrest was a velcro strap that held the tube out of the way of the wheel. He left her for a moment, grabbing an ice pack to tuck into the bag with the formula.

Sarah watched him, puzzled and confused, “Why aren’t you starting feeds?”

“Yes, we are going to the hospital today, you are due to have your tube replaced,” He started a sterile field, and started to draw up the day’s medications, five IV syringes and one G-tube syringe. He capped the syringes and tossed them into a plastic bag. He put her nighttime pills into a small pill container, and put it in the bag as well, “Just in case we aren’t home in time,” He put the bag into her backpack, “

Sarah started coughing a dry, rough cough. Her dad rubbed her back with one hand, and reaching over onto the table for her portable oxygen concentrator. He tucked the cannula into her nose and turned it on. She started to breathe easier, and her dad smiled.

Once she started to feel better, he spoke up, “I need to stop the machine so I can put this in your backpack and organize the tubing, okay?”

She nodded, and he turned the machine off and unplugged the tubing from the machine. Working quickly, he looped the excess tubing up and secured it with a tubie clip that he clipped to her shirt. He fed the tubing through the the velcro port in the back of her wheelchair, then through the port in her backpack. The oxygen concentrator went into the backpack, and he turned in back on once it was set up.

Once she was all set up, her dad looked at his watch, “I think it’s time to get this show on the road!”

Sarah nodded, and leaned against her headrest while her dad pushed her through the house, then out the door.

Sarah dozed all the way to the hospital, barely lucid enough to realize when she was being taken out of the car, and into the hospital.

“Let’s take a look at the ol’ g-tube then, ready?” Sarah was woken from her daze by the doctor, a brunette woman that Sarah had seen multiple times before, Dr. Manning.

Sarah nodded at the doctor, leaning back and lifting her shirt up to the underwire of her bra, exposing the tube.

“Mind if I give her her 11:00 meds?” Her dad inquired, looking at his watch. The doctor nodded and Sarah’s dad stole a pair of gloves from the wall and started fiddling with her PICC line. He pushed her morphine first, which immediately started to chill her out even more than the Ativan. The next medication was Benadryl, which was followed by saline and Heparin.

As the Benadryl kicked in, Sarah dozed off just in time for Dr. Manning to pull the tube out for the change.

An indiscernable amount of time later, Sarah woke up in a hospital bed, a different room from the procedure room she had been in before. 

“Sarah?” Her dad whispered, looking up from his phone. Sarah made a noise in the back of her throat, feeling a thin tube down her throat, and rubbed her eyes, before looking at her dad.

“Dad?” She croaked, “Where... Why are we here? Why do I have a nose tube?”

“You have an infection,” He explained, scooting closer to her bed and grabbing her right hand, “In your tube. They want to keep you here because of your immunodeficiency, they want to be a little more aggressive this ti-”

There was a knock at the door, and a doctor and a nurse walked in. They both helped themselves to some hand sanitizer off of the wall, and greeted her dad. Sarah settled back down, staying quiet.

“Whenever ANYONE in the hospital comes to talk to us, you stay QUIET. Do you hear me? Sarah, look at me. DO YOU UNDERSTAND? You are to remain absolutely silent. Do not tell them anything, you don’t understand what you’re talking about anyways. I’m the only one that can advocate for you. You’re only going to make things worse.”

“Do you have any idea how this infection might have started? Any other signs of illness, maybe another infection that spread? Have you travelled recently?”

“No, none of that.”

“And you’re always touching the tube with clean hands, cleaning it twice a day, using clean gauze, clean supplies, bathing often?”

“Yes, very clean. I’m very careful. She’s immunocompromised, and I would never do anything that could put her in danger.”

Sarah’s stomach churned. No, not clean.

“And you’re the only one who handles her tube? Is mom involved? Home healthcare nurses, babysitters?”

“Nope, it’s just me,” Sarah’s dad laughed, “Her mother took off, left me in the dust. No help I ever see! And I don’t let anyone else handle her tube.”

“Well, I think we’re going to go in for endoscopy to see what’s going on inside, see if the infection is in her stomach as well, maybe bacterial gastroenteritis, ulcers, buried bumper syndrome. We’ll see what we can find and take some more cultures.”

“Dirty tube...”

Sarah’s dad looked at her with a wrath hotter than a thousands suns, and then chuckled at the doctors, “Sorry, she just woke up. Sometimes she echoes what she hears from others, it doesn’t mean anything.”

“My tube is dirty,” She asserted groggily.

“Sweetheart, they just cleaned it an hour ago, it’s not dirty,” Sarah’s dad reassured, squeezing her hand. She sighed, and laid back.

The doctor left, and Sarah’s dad dropped her hand aggressively, “What do you think you’re doing?” He hissed, “They will take you away from me and hurt you. Is that what you want?”

Sarah shook her head.

“You will die without me. Do you understand? I do everything for you. I care for you, I do everything with no help. God forbid I make mistakes. God forbid I forget things sometimes.”

She looked away.

He grabbed the tube and pulled her to face him, which yanked the tape off of her cheek. She coughed as the tubing shifted in her throat.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you,” He scowled at her, before putting on a worried face, “Nurse!” He flagged down a nurse walking by their door, “She pulled the tape off. Poor thing, she doesn’t understand.”

-

-

(A/N) anyways sorry ava wasn’t in this one, i just needed to set the scene lol. hope you enjoyed!

[incandescent-eden]

31 Days of Horror - Vast (2)

My go at day 2 of 31 days of horror : Vast ! And this one was finished before 12 A M in my time, I am so excited!

Total word count: 1457

TW / CW : deep sea mentions , unidentified creatures , bullying behaviors , burn wounds , burn mentions , (special mention for scientific inaccuracies)

---

“What the hell?” Vivienne clenched the clipboard she held. It dug into her palm as she tried to resist the urge to throw it at the woman who had brought her in through the mechanically locked doors.

An urge that was quickly becoming harder to fight while the woman stammered out an explanation. She had been studying the specimen for longer, had been on the initial team that found it, or so Vivienne had been told when she accepted the project.

“This is the specimen, Dr. Zhu,” she said, wringing her hands. A strand of her straight black hair slipped in front of her goggles from the loose ponytail that held it back. Sloppy.

“Is this a joke?” Vivienne demanded. Her fingertips ached from pressing on the clipboard. “I was told there was a specimen to study, and you take me here to show me, what? A central pillar?”

Slowly, shakily, Vivienne lowered her clipboard, pressing her other hand to her temple. She tried to breathe, to keep her voice level. It wouldn’t do to get angry at another researcher, not on her first day. “Did David put you up to this? I won’t get mad, just tell me where the real specimen is, and who told you to play this silly little prank. I won’t even tell the director.” She grit her teeth, inhaling through her nose. Exhaling. “Just stop. Wasting. My time.”

“Um,” the woman whispered. The red stitching on her lab coat read ‘Dr. W. Ng.’ “N-no, that… that really is the specimen, Dr. Zhu. That entire tank…”

Vivienne’s breath hitched, mid-inhale. She turned around.

The tank was pressurized, puffs of air hissing every few seconds around it. It was a tube, the kind that stretched from the base of the building all the way to the top floor, with the top left exposed so people could peer in, downward. The shape of it was oddly nostalgic, reminding Vivienne of when she was a little girl and her parents were at work. Her grandfather would take her to the aquarium, teaching her the names of different animals in Cantonese. She used to run along the curved ramps of the aquarium, following fish as they flitted from one end of the glass tank to the next, until she reached the top and she could gaze down, standing on her tiptoes, wondering what it would feel like to ride the turtles.

This tank was a similar shape, with metal stairs all around the reinforced glass instead of sticky aquarium floors. Where Vivienne used to look into clear, blue tinted waters and see multitudes of coral and fish, however, all there was in the tank was a solid white pillar.

She pressed one hand to the glass, expecting it to be cool. It was hot to the touch - so hot that Vivienne jerked her hand away instinctively.

“This…” Vivienne muttered. “This is the specimen?” She ran, circling the tank. Behind her came the clanging of her companion’s footsteps as she tried to keep up. “How did you transport it here?” she said, half-dazed.

“It bit one of our probes,” Dr. Ng admitted. “We sent a probe down to try to map some of the creatures closer to the sea floor, and it, um… latched on.”

Vivienne reached out, stopping inches away from touching the tank again. “How did you… pull it up?”

“We didn’t know,” said Dr. Ng quietly. “It was really small at first. We pulled up the probe, and there it was. Just this, wriggly little thing. Real cute,” she said with a nervous laugh.

“I mean, the coloration!” she gushed, a smile floating up to her face. She flushed pink, her dark eyes far away and sparkling. “Something that was pure white, that was meant to reflect light, ten kilometers below sea level? We were worried maybe the light would be too much for it, but it didn’t seem to respond at all to different lighting levels. Just pressure. Well, that, and...”

“Feeding,” Vivienne finished softly.

“Yes,” said Dr. Ng, breathless. “It ate everything we gave it. Fish food at first, but then Nicky accidentally dropped one of the grapes they were eating - god, they should not have been eating in the lab - and it snatched it up. And then we thought, hey, what if we fed it other things? It must have been a top predator…”

“But?” Vivienne asked, sensing the hesitation in Dr. Ng’s trailing off.

“But it kept getting bigger,” she continued somberly. “Do you understand, Dr. Zhu? No matter what we fed it, it kept getting bigger.”

Vivienne nodded, recalling the emptied cans labelled potassium cyanide they had passed on their way into this main chamber.

“So why call me in? Sounds like your team would want credit for this find.”

For a moment, the only sound that could be heard was the running of the turbines filtering what little water was left in the tank and the faint hissing of machines straining to keep pressure at deep sea levels. Then, almost imperceptibly, there came a low, haunting, whistling tone.

“Do you hear that, Dr. Zhu?” Dr. Ng asked in a hushed voice.

“Yes.” The word barely left Vivienne’s lips.

“Creepy, isn’t it?”

“Beautiful,” said Vivienne.

The whistling tone continued, just low enough that if she hadn’t been listening, or if she started to think of something else, she would have missed it. It was a sweet and sad chorus, bouncing off the metal of the rails of the walkways encircling the tank, filling the chamber as if expanding, as if taking up the entirety of the tank was not enough, as if nothing would ever be enough until the creature had consumed the vastness of space itself.

“Dr. Zhu?” Dr. Ng interrupted, grabbing Vivienne’s shoulder.

Vivienne whipped her hand off the tank on which it rested, now aching and red. She gasped in pain, holding her wrist as her hand throbbed.

“I’m fine,” Vivienne muttered through gritted teeth. “You didn’t answer my question.”

Dr. Ng looked at her with round eyes and rounded, parted lips. Vivienne hated eyes like that, full of pity and concern. Eyes that once stared back at her from a mirror, decades ago, when Vivienne herself had been a young woman like Dr. Ng.

The whistling was gone now.

“We should leave,” Dr. Ng said slowly. As if she was speaking to a child. Anger rose in Vivienne’s throat, hotter than her quickly scarring hand.

“Answer. My. Question,” Vivienne repeated.

Avoiding Vivienne’s eyes, Dr. Ng finally tucked the loose strand of hair behind her ear. “You’re the leading expert in deep sea parasites. We thought, at first, with the way it would eat everything, maybe that’s what it was. It was only about this big when we called you.” She held her hands about half a meter apart.

“We weren’t feeding it more than a few grams of fish formula a day, but it kept getting bigger, and then,” Dr. Ng paused, taking a deep breath. “One day, we stopped feeding it. Just to see if it would respond, try to tap the glass or whether it had gotten, you know, conditioned. But it just kept getting bigger.”

“A lot of people… Nicky, Felix, Adeline, basically our entire team quit. Burned their hands against the tank the same way you did when it was still small. But the water temperature was always cold to emulate the bottom of the ocean when we checked it. And it was highly improbable that all of them just got careless one day. That just doesn’t happen.”

Vivienne nodded. “Why are you still here, then?”

Dr. Ng looked curiously at Vivienne. “This is my work. I’ve been with this project for three years now, and I couldn’t just quit. Wouldn’t you have done the same?”

Wordlessly, Vivienne nodded.

She turned again, staring at the specimen, the blinding pillar of white that seemed to consume her entire field of vision.

“I started this project thinking I would find something at the bottom of the sea floor. Better document that part of the ocean, you know?” Her words remained soft, but her voice took on a hard tiredness. “I don’t know what I’ll do if it gets bigger.”

When, Vivienne said, but her lips remained sealed.

The whistle tone started once more, reaching and stretching into the air. It struck Vivienne just how tall the observation chamber was, just how wide the radius of the tank, and just how small she and Dr. Ng must have been - mere specks against the mass of white that came from a great unknown.

A tiny cracking noise, rendered inaudible by the specimen’s whistling, accompanied an even smaller webbed crack in the glass of the tank.

[justjessame]

Babysitting Butcher Chapter 32

Life as a human guinea pig is a strange thing. First of all, there's the questions. The same questions over and over, to the point where the machines and medical doodads and the noise that became almost normal for me, but the questions became the irritant of the day.

"How are you feeling today, Dr. Taylor?" As I'd squint into the bright light being forced into my marrow it seemed. A muttered reply from me, and honestly the same answer in varying degrees of annoyance or acceptance depending upon the day and how many times I'd been asked it so far. "Uh huh, and are you feeling warm? Is there tenderness in your abdomen?" While they poked and prodded, testing skin, muscle, bone and eventually blood.

Did you know the average human adult has around 1.2-1.5 gallons of blood which equals roughly 10 units? I know this because I wanted to be certain that I'd have enough after all the blood testing. Research would either be the way I kept sane or what finally pushed me over the ledge into complete madness, mark my words.

Billy visited, as often as he could, and every single time he'd greet the head poker in residence with his own version of the repeated question game. "How is she? What's the bloody progress?" At which I would inevitably check the arm that seemed to be their favorite vessel for bloodletting. "How much longer?" And then he'd meet my gaze and focus his attention on ME, rather than on my medical condition.

Yes, I was calling it a condition. If I let the reality of my situation fully grip me, then I'd scream. And I had moments of it, trust me.

How would you feel if every single time the man you loved walked in and spoke about your person as though you were a petri dish experiment before reminding himself, through sheer force of finally SEEING you, that you were in fact the woman he loved?

Now take that feeling you just got from that scenario and add the annoyingly taunting voice of the caped asshole who caused this whole fucking irritating bullshit situation reminding you that you fell in love with a man for whom hatred of supes is as natural as inhaling. Feeling just a hint of discomfort? Just add the sound of beeping, buzzing, and dripping to remind yourself of the fact that this was all happening while I was being held hostage as a "let's see what happens if we try this mixture to counteract the demon juice flowing through her veins" was tried over and over.

Strained. My nerves, body, and brain felt strained. Even after the feeding tube was gone and Billy could kiss me. Even after I was given the go ahead to work from my hospital bed. Frayed would be a kind way to say how absolutely on edge I felt.

And the worse part? I felt like I was missing something. Something important. Something paramount. Just out of reach and as though, even surrounded by my laptop and notes, something that was keeping me out of an important loop.

The longer that I stayed in the 'undisclosed medical' location, the more that I wanted to be anywhere else in the world. Literally anywhere. I started to yearn for Bolivia and the Black Ops team that had gotten caught up in the web of a rogue agent and 'died' implicated in a massive fuck up of epic proportions.

When a rational woman who knows how the inner workings of other people's brains and behavior follow reliable patterns starts thinking fondly of the heat of a tropical place where she had to wade through more red tape than most people would assume humanly possible to unravel the truth, all while hearing the type of rumors about the men she was trying to clear and resurrect from faked death, then shit has hit epic levels of horrible. It did remind me to contact that team to see how their return to their former lives had worked out, and wonder if their leader had gotten over his own tragic ability to attract murderous women.

I wanted to go further than the small courtyard deemed safe enough for me to explore, and near enough to make them taking me off the dialysis machine after another fun round of 'clean her blood again' reasonable. I wanted to sleep in my own bed and watch television at my discretion without interruptions for another round of the questions and poking I wanted, in short, to be back to normal already.

I might have been empathizing with Billy's urge for the Vought wankers (his word, I swear) to find the magic solution so life could go back to the routine we both wanted a return to. Or I might have been trying to only see the positive outcome, since there was a creeping feeling that maybe, just maybe there wasn't an easy fix or a fix at all.

A month passed, with my cabin fever slowly increasing by the day, and with it my internal and external temperatures. Oh yeah, that's right, I might have forgotten to mention that while the steaming was at bay, now it was just my actual body temperature that would fluctuate and freak every single fucking person all the way out. When Billy said I nearly went "nuclear" he hadn't been joking, apparently I could have fucking exploded like a goddamn human time bomb and I didn't want to consider just how fucking messy that would have been for the janitorial staff.

Finally, maybe because I wanted some type of control about the questioning, I started asking some probing ones of my own. And what I found, when they would meet my eyes and answer me as fully as I wanted, was that that creeping feeling was growing more likely.

The issue wasn't simply that they didn't know which variation of Compound V that Homelander had me infected with, it was that as they broke down the components and addressed each one, my body didn't simply fight their attempts, it attacked itself. The asshole, it would appear, had basically chosen the self destruct version, and it was trickier than any puzzle these 'real doctors' had ever come across. I was truly feeling the confidence of having a toddler performing my brain surgery with this knowledge.

Oh and that wasn't all, even IF they figured out how to 'neutralize' the formula inside of my bloodstrain, then there was a probability that I could pass it on to any future children. Isn't that some kind of amazingly poetic bullshit to hear after you chose to evict a foreign invader from your uterus? That the one stabilizing agent I'd had scraped and dumped was the ONLY one that I would ever get to actually be allowed to experience. Remind me to send Homelander a HUGE fucking thank you card, would you?

Early into my first true consciousness, before I found out just how fucked the pompous dick had made my entire existence, Billy had told me that my parents had visited while I was knocked out. Apparently near death experiences make even the weirdest of families reunite. And mine was no different.

Mom became a regular visitor and I was shocked by how much I started looking forward to her visits. She was strangely comforting, and tried to keep my spirits up, she even made peace with Billy. Dad was less frequent in his contact, but Mom told me it was difficult for him to see me look like a shell of myself.

And I did. I looked like a ghost that's haunting what was left of my body. The feeding tube had kept me nourished, but my muscle mass had suffered from the amount of time I was forced to spend in bed. I was constantly tired, my work hours going from nine to six to an hour here, a few minutes there, and the amount of napping I did would make most house cats jealous. The gowns that I wore hung from my frame, my appetite was scarce and I felt like this was the LONGEST goodbye letter ever to be written.

As the days passed, one merging into the next without me taking stock of how much I missed, how much that puzzle of what I was missing had bothered me early on, the negative ideas started creeping in. Homelander's voice grew louder. His smug question about Billy and me and what my condition would mean for the two of us in the end kept pushing through my attempts to distract myself.

I was sitting in the soft chair they'd brought in for me by the window, staring out and thinking of my options when Billy came in for his visit. I heard him, in the background noise of beeps and whirls, ask his questions. I felt him when he was nearer to me, but my eyes stayed on the 'view'.

He started to greet me, but my mouth opened and the question came out without me thinking about it. "How will you do it?" I watched a leaf, one missed by the obsessive groundskeepers, dance in a breeze I wish I could feel. He was confused, his reflection showed that much. "When you kill me, how will you do it?"

"Veronica," I could hear the pain in his voice, the fear hiding behind it. "I wouldn't-"

"Frenchie then?" I tilted my head considering. "MM? Hughie barely managed to make the choice with-" I stopped and took a breath. "Kimiko?" I sighed and pulled my legs up onto the chair, hugging my knees. "I hear she makes quite a mess of her prey." My voice wasn't loud and it didn't sound anything more than resigned, and I was a little curious. "If you can get Starlight to do it, you could make it seem like self defense? Or," I sighed, and bit my lip, "it would finally give you a reason to take her out too."

"Ronnie, love, that's not gonna-" I turned and he flinched when he saw that I was serious and not the least bit upset. "Ronnie?"

"Billy Butcher, I wrote the book on you." My smile felt wrong to me, but right at the same time. "I know you inside and out, or at least I think I do." I had the research on the flash drive that was hooked into my laptop on the bed. "You are single minded in your focus and your focus has been on eliminating supes from the world for a very long time." I turned back to the window, staring past the view and at the reflection of the room behind me. "It was one of the things I found the most attractive about you, I think. That you could see a goal and pound away until you master it." He sat in the chair close to me, but at a distance far enough that he'd have to work to touch me. "So, how will I die, Billy?"

"You'll die safe and sound, of old age in our bed, Veronica." I smiled sadly at this pipe dream of a fairy tale he wanted so badly to believe. "When you're sick of me, remember?" I could hear how badly he wanted it to be true, how much he wanted to hold me and it to all be a terrible dream.

"Never took you for a nursery rhyme and fairy stories fan," my eyes were still on the window. "This isn't going away, Billy, what he put in me isn't going away. And you will start to look at me like you look at him." My eyes found his, and face to face I wanted to force him to see it. "You will. And then, just like you, Frenchie, and Hughie brainstormed about Translucent and the best way to end him, you'll start to consider my pressure points." I gave a harsh, humorless chuckle. "And the funniest part is that Homelander built mine in for you, all you have to do is take me off the blood cleanse for a day and my own body will do it for you." His eyes tightened at the reminder of how many close calls I'd had. "Oops, I guess I just planned it for you."

"Please don't." He was begging me to let him pretend it wasn't the truth, that he wouldn't lose me too, and because of the same supe as Becca's cause of death. "Don't do this."

I smiled sadly, knowing he knew, even without me telling him, what was going to happen next.

[grootiez]

The Joys of Raising a Teenaged Groot- Chapter 61: Discussion

The next day, Groot had just got done his daily therapy session and had his feeding tube hooked up to his morning formula. Rocket and the other Guardians were bringing the teenager back to his room to relax for a little bit before he had to go to Calina for his speech therapy lesson when Azrik approached them in the hall.

“Hey, can I see you guys in the conference room?” Azrik beseeches the Guardians as Groot whines, clearly tired and in need of a nap before he went to Calina’s office to work on using his speech device.

“Yeah.” Rocket replies as the Guardians follow Groot’s aide to the conference room. “What’s this all about?”

“We’re going to start the process of letting Groot leave here and stay at home on the weekends on a trial basis.” Azrik stated as he held open the door for the Guardians to enter the conference room as Drax pushed Groot inside.

The Guardians took their seats in the big fluffy brown leather rolling chairs and Drax parked Groot in his chair before he took his seat next to him.

“Um, Drax, do you mind if you bring Groot to the middle?” Azrik asks as he gets the Hologram projector ready. “We’re going to be appealing to the insurance company for them to reinstate Groot’s life insurance plan and it would help if they saw him in person.”

Drax gets up and moves Groot to the center as the Guardians moved their chairs to make enough room for the teen. Once they were all settled, Azrik spoke again.

“Now, let me get a representative on the phone and we’ll get started.” Azrik says as he inputs the insurance company’s contact information to get them on the other end. Once he gets through the various prompts and is talking to a real person, her image appears on the hologram.

“Hello, I am Zorthir, and what are we discussing today?” The man introduces himself.

“Hi, Zorthir, I’m Azrik of Bright Horizons Child and Adolescent Rehabilitation Center, and I have a patient in my care here whose insurance policy was canceled and his family and I would like to reinstate it.” Azrik states as Zorthir begins typing on his computer.

“Alright, and what’s the patient’s name?” Zorthir asks as he brings up a database to search.

“His name is Groot.” Azrik answers.

“And what is Groot’s last name?” Zorthir responded as Azrik looks at Rocket.

Rocket panics. Groot hasn’t had the need to have a last name in his entire life. Even when Groot was taken from the Guardians’ custody and placed in an orphanage for a period of time while the dysfunctional family (mainly Rocket) fought their hardest to get Groot back, the sapling was referred to by a random string of letters and numbers rather than by a name. It was only when Rocket gained legal custody of the young Flora Colossus, that Groot was granted his name by the judge.

“Um, well, um...” Rocket was struggling to speak. “Well, um, you see, um-.”

Peter leaned over to the raccoon’s side. “Well, Rocket, isn’t Groot legally your son?”

“Yeah, but-.” Rocket responded as he looked at the humie.

“Well back on Earth, Groot would take up your last name.” Peter explains. “You are his father after all.”

This got Rocket thinking. He nodded as he said “Alright, Quill. I agree.” Rocket states as Zorthir types in the rest of Groot’s immediate information.

“Now, Azrik, I need to ask you a few questions before I’m able to proceed with Groot’s reinstatement.” Zorthir began. “The first one is I don’t have any of Groot’s medical history on file. Do you mind sending me that information?”

“I can and I’m doing that right now.” Azrik replies as he taps on his tablet and sends Groot’s medical information over to Zorthir.

“Okay, and I’m trying to look up Groot’s current insurance plan and it says that he’s deceased.” Zorthir glances at his computer as Rocket holds his emotions in. “Do you know what the story is with that and what’s his prognosis now?”

“Groot came to us from Zanara Trauma Center.” Azrik explains.

“Why did he end up there? That place is where they send the sickest of the sick, people who’ve been in traumatic accidents, or for those who need intensive medical treatments.” Zorthir questions.

“His father, Rocket, can explain what happened that night.” Azrik responds as Zorthir turns his attention towards the raccoon.

Rocket tries to hold back his emotions. Surely reliving and having to retell the worst night of both his and Groot’s lives was not going to be easy for him.

“I, um...” Rocket began, trying to not choke up. “Groot, um, Groot was in a bad mood that night and he went up to his room. Gammy went up to his room five minutes later to check on him and that’s when we discovered that Groot ran away from home by climbing out of his bedroom window. I then went out to look for him.”

The next part was hard for Rocket to talk about. “I-I finally found Groot... But be-before I could get to him...” Rocket choked up. He couldn’t finish the rest of that fateful night.

“It’s alright, Rocket.” Azrik consoles the raccoon as he dries his eyes with a tissue. “I can explain the rest of the story if need be.” He tells Zorthir.

“Go ahead.” Zorthir permits as he gestures.

“Well, Groot sustained multiple stab wounds, as well as a black eye and both of his legs and his left arm being broken as a result of the attack. Groot was in so much pain that by the time that he was done, he had to be put in a medically-induced coma and on life support.”

“Were there any further complications?” Zorthir asks as he wrote down everything that Azrik was telling him.

“Yes, while Groot was being put in the coma, he stopped breathing, going into cardiac arrest, and dying on the table. This all happened twice before he was stabilized.” Azrik stated. “His nurse said that he lost a lot of oxygen and could have suffered irreversible brain damage.”

“And what was his prognosis on that first night?” Zorthir questioned Azrik.

“Groot’s prognosis wasn’t good.” Azrik began. “His injuries were so severe that he wasn’t expected to live through the night. If he did survive, Groot would more than likely be severely brain damaged and bed ridden for the rest of his life, unable to interact with the people he’s around and having to be supported by machines for the rest of his life.”

“What is Groot’s prognosis now?” Zorthir queried.

“Well, as you can see, Groot is able to interact with everyone, he speaks using a speech device, and as you can see, he is not bedridden and can get around using a custom made manual wheelchair.” Azrik stated as Groot smiled.

“About when did Groot get his wheelchair?” Zorthir asked.

“He got it the first day that he started therapy here, so about a couple months ago.” Azrik answered.

“Now, that chair that he’s sitting in, that’s a custom-made one, correct?” Zorthir replied as he looked at his paperwork and Azrik nodded. “Those are expensive because of the modifications needed to make Groot comfortable in it and Groot’s insurance was cancelled when he obtained it because on his policy, he was listed as recently deceased, or else we would have covered the cost of it completely. Now, on the order form it lists a Mr. Peter J. Quill as the holder of the credit card that was used to pay for it-.”

“Wait a second...” Peter growls as he stands up and turns to Rocket, fists clinched. “You said that you paid for Groot’s chair yourself...” The humie was furious now as Rocket turned in his seat to hide a snicker. “Rocket...” The raccoon still couldn’t stop laughing to himself as Peter made him look at his angry face. “You stupid ball of fur and trash, what the HELL are you laughing at?”

“Just an idiot who can’t even keep an eye on his own wallet.” Rocket snickers as Quill reaches over to slap the rodent.

“Boys, boys!” Gamora scolds the two as Rocket hisses at Peter, baring his teeth in a defensive manner. “I’m sorry for their behavior, but these two numbskulls are always bickering like an old married couple.”

“Hey!” Rocket and Peter chimed in at the same time. “No we don’t! I would never-.” They both finish in unison together as they slowly turned to look at each other.

“Shut up, Star-Munch!” Rocket snarls as he leans against his chair’s armrest, ready to pounce on Peter. “Everyone here knows that you waste money on useless junk anyways, so I made you buy something that’ll benefit somebody else than you.” He then looks at Peter to apologize. “I’m sorry, I should’ve asked you first before I maxed out your credit card...”

Before Peter could say anything, Zorthir responds. “Since Groot clearly needs his chair to get around, I will approve it getting covered by insurance, which reminds me, Azrik, can you please send me all of his medical records and diagnoses?”

Azrik swipes his finger across the holographic pad in his hands. “Just did.” He says as Zorthir hears a notification ding on his end and he read the files Azrik sent him.

“Alright. I’ll get Groot re-enrolled into our system on his original policy.” Zorthir informs the Guardians. “Luckily, there’s a few things his policy covers the cost on.”

“Like what?” Gamora questions.

“For starters, all of Groot’s daily and specialty medications, as well as his formula would be covered.” Zorthir began. “It also says on his records that he uses a communication device to talk. About how long has he had it?”

“He got it the day before he got his wheelchair, so at least for a few months now.” Azrik replies. “And he’s gotten better and better with using it to communicate.”

“Alright. When I reactivate Groot’s insurance plan, Rocket, since you’re his primary legal guardian and caregiver, you will be reimbursed for the amount of the wheelchair and his talker.” Peter stood up from his seat. “Wait a minute! Rocket stole MY money FROM MY bank account! So shouldn’t it be ME who get reimbursed from the insurance company?!?!”

“I’m sorry, but as he is listed as the only parent or legal guardian, as well as Groot’s primary caregiver, Rocket is the only person entitled to any monetary compensation from Groot’s insurance policy due to his medical needs.” Zorthir explains as Rocket holds one of his paws up to say something.

“Wait a minute.” Rocket interrupts. “Quill, I’m sorry that I haven’t been truthful with ya from the day we first met.” He apologizes as Peter scoffs, knowing that the raccoon is secretly trying to finagle something that Peter would have to pay him back with later. “I’m sorry that I went behind your back and stole your credit card in order to pay for Groot’s chair. I was greedy and didn’t want to pay for it myself. So how about I pay you back the full amount and... here.” The raccoon gets out his holographic currency exchanger and transfers the appropriate amount of Units to Peter.

Peter was dumbfounded by the gesture as he got out his own currency exchanger and saw the Units were in fact back in to his banking account.

“Wow, Rocket, uh, thanks.” Peter’s gratitude is apparent as Rocket just ignores it and shrugs it off.

“Now, back to the situation at hand, are there any further things that need to be discussed?” Zorthir questions.

“Yes, there are a couple of things that we’re looking into for Groot. The first thing is, he’s made tremendous strides in his recovery and we’re thinking about letting him go home for the weekends and come back here for the weekdays so that we can continue his care and various therapies that he needs.” Azrik stated as Groot looked at and smiled at Rocket.

“That would be a good step in his recovery and I’m in agreement with it.” Zorthir then cleared his throat. “But, your house will need to be evaluated and certain modifications made in order for it to be accessible for Groot. Now, we would cover any and all necessary renovations and all of the required equipment, but it’ll need to be inspected by a certified contractor and approved before Groot could go home.”

“Okay, we agree with all of that. Is there anything else that Groot would need when he comes home?” Gamora inquired.

“Yes. Because of Groot’s various conditions, he will need a personal care nurse to take care of him, give him his medications, and monitor his progress over the weekend.” Zorthir explains. “After that, if things improve we can hopefully increase the time that he’s home to a week at a time. I would expect all of you to pay attention to Groot's needs and help out wherever possible.”He implores the Guardians as they all agree.

Zorthir then shuffles the various amounts of paperwork on his desk. “Okay, then. I think that concludes our meeting.” He declares as he begins to stand up as Groot taps Azrik’s shoulder.

“Wait, there’s actually something that we need to mention.” Azrik says as Zorthir sat back down. “A few days ago, Groot got the opportunity to test out and drive a power wheelchair. He did so well with it, we decided that he would be a good candidate to get one of his own, fully customized to his needs.” Azrik explains as he sends over a copy of the order form for the chair in question. “The thing is, Groot would need all of the specialized features like the electric tilt, recline, powered leg rests, and elevated seat in order to be completely comfortable. He would also need things like the attendant control in case he can’t drive the chair himself and one of his family members need to do it for him.”

Zorthir looks at the order form intently. “I see. A customized wheelchair like this isn’t exactly cheap and can run in the range of 30-40 thousand Units. Thankfully, this is the kind of thing that Groot’s newly reactivated insurance plan would cover the complete cost on. So good news, Groot! You’ll be getting your new wheelchair when it’s ready.” He declares as he signed off on the form as excited shouts could be heard coming from Groot as Azrik ended the conference.

After about fifteen more minutes of talking between Azrik and the Guardians, they left the conference room so that Groot could continue on with his day. The excitement couldn’t be contained within Groot as the Guardians made their way back to the teenager’s room for a well-deserved celebration. ———————————————————————————————

@trashpandaorigins @madness-on-the-milano @madcatz6277 @blaketoziers @butterflyinthewell @canuckscot @i-sudoku @janetgenea @lothirielswanmarvel @netbug009 @pineapple-crow @rocket-roquill-raccoon @rocket-ringtail-raccoon @rr4901 @sesshouki @skarabrae-stone @thatcrappypuppy @vic394 @woozletania @whoop-whoop-grocket———————————————————————————————

Read on Ao3.

[devoverest]

Getting to know me: a novel

@ignisgalaxia @imaginationdrift @bizships @lodessa and @streepmulgrew  have all tagged me for this, and I just can't take the peer pressure any longer. However, I'm so long-winded everyone will surely be very sorry that you five ever asked me. I will try very hard to put most of this below a "read more" link, but my mobile app doesn't play nicely with that feature any longer, so I truly deeply and sincerely apologize if yours doesn't either and you get a callus scrolling past all of what follows on your way to the gifsets you're on Tumblr to enjoy.

1. Relationship status: married -- legally and everything. It was the mid-'90s. I was considering having a religious ceremony but forgoing the state-recognized marriage license part, in solidarity with same-sex couples who at the time and for many years afterward were denied that privilege. However, my father absolutely put his foot down (something he almost never did with me, especially in my young adulthood) and insisted on the marriage license. He supported marriage equality, but he was thinking of my economic security in case our marriage didn't last. He was right to do, as I ended up taking many years out of the paid workforce to raise children, which I hadn't planned on doing when I decided to marry.

In case Tumblr is stupid, right here is where I’ve inserted a “read more” link as I’m writing this post. I tried. 

2. Lipstick or chapstick: Usually neither. Actually, never literal Chapstick because that stuff is made out of petroleum and isn't good for your skin. I learned that when I was playing a lot of flute in high school and college and had to take extra special care of my lips to play well. If the weather gets really cold and dry, which it rarely does where I live, and if I can hang on to any of the half-dozen tubes I buy every year but which invariably get swiped and then lost by family members, I use a Burt's Bees lip balm. I seem to have a knack for finding them barely-used in the bottom of my purse during the warm months and then never having one at hand when I actually need it. I think I own one lip pencil currently and I'll sometimes use that to outline my lips when I'm doing some sort of special-event public speaking kinda gig but I don't wear any make-up normally. My husband claims that I knew full well it was a date the first time we got together socially because I wore make-up. I have never admitted to him that he is correct, but he is.

3. Three favorite foods: Too many to narrow down to just three. I enjoy and appreciate a wide range of foods. Things I enjoy and appreciate perhaps a tad more frequently than I ought to in the strictest interests of nutrition are chocolate in almost any form, ice cream (especially that of the chocolate persuasion and most especially any form of peanut-butter/chocolate), and Starburst brand jellybeans, which my son and I share somewhat ritualistically most evenings after dinner (which is somehow not the same thing as for dessert.) Why yes, I do have a sweet tooth -- why do you ask?

4. Song stuck in your head: Currently "You Ain't Seen Nothing Yet" by Bachman-Turner Overdrive (I had to google that.) I don't know why but suspect it was on TV this evening, which makes me fear that it may be the campaign song for some politician I would never vote for. Which reminds me -- US citizens, please double-check that you are registered to vote and make a plan for voting in the upcoming midterms! This will probably the most important election of your entire lifetime, past or future, no matter what your age, and in many races in many states, voter turnout will be the single deciding factor in who controls the future of our country for a very long time to come. Please vote!

5. Last movie you watched: "Crazy Rich Asians," with my husband, unwisely just two days after I had minor (but surprisingly butt-kicking) surgery. We went to the first matinee showing on a Saturday and actually arrived at the theater before it even opened, a sure sign of mature middle age if I've ever heard of one. We both loved the film -- it was glitzy, funny, extremely well-written and -acted, got all the Chinese cultural details right, offered caricatures but no stereotypes, was very female-centric and multi-generational, and of course starred the exquisite and inimitable Michelle Yeoh who also plays Philippa Georgiou on Star Trek: Discovery. Laughed until my belly hurt (literally, sadly) and then went home and slept the rest of the day.

6. Top three shows: This will sound really strange for someone who is on Tumblr because of TV show fandom, but I don't watch TV. I grew up with Star Trek TOS reruns and movies, then TNG in college & grad school, then Voyager until extended stays abroad made it impossible to keep up with (back in the days before streaming and VPNs.) I reconnected with Star Trek in summer 2017 when I was home alone for six weeks and binged all of Voyager and then started digging up fanfic for all the reasons all the Voyager fans turn to fic -- to fix what the show's writers mutilated -- and now here I am, but I don't watch TV, and when I do it's the nightly news or whatever sports my husband is watching and then it's just because I feel like sitting in the same room with my husband at that particular time. The one exception to this fact about me is that I did watch Star Trek: Discovery as it was being released last year, and even got my teenager into it. (He is a Netflix addict but never watched any Star Trek anything before that. I don't know where I went wrong with this child.)

7. Books I'm currently reading: Eternal Tide by Kirsten Beyer because @voyager-book-club; Ancillary Justice by Ann Leckie (audiobook but I'm counting it); Five Ways to Forgiveness by Ursula K. LeGuin, Soul at Work: Spiritual Leadership in Organizations by Margaret Benefiel; Pachinko by Min Jin Lee; and Selecting and Using Breastfeeding Tools: Improving Care and Outcomes by Catherine Watson Genna. Except that the last three books on the list are ones I have at hand and keep wanting to read but haven't so much as opened yet. But including them gives you a more complete sense of my interests.

8. Last thing I googled: "you ain't seen nothing yet lyrics" because #4 above. Before that, "instant pot beef stew recipe." No need to look further back in my search history (she said during a break from writing smut.) *whistles innocently*

9. Time: 10:30pm as I write this. No idea when I'll post it or when you'll read it. This seems like a silly question to include for a post of this nature.

10. Dream trip: India. But I've also never crossed the equator and really feel I should someday, so who knows, maybe I'll find a way to drop in on all the Australian friends I've made in Voyager fandom. Now wouldn't that be lovely?

11. Anything you want: Anyone who knows me in real life (and anyone hanging around the Voyager Book Club discord server) knows I never shut up about breastfeeding support and advocacy. But I always try to make it clear that I'm not preaching at parents about how they should feed their babies; rather, I'm working to help parents who want to breastfeed overcome any challenges they encounter. I save my preaching for the folks involved with policy and institutional barriers to breastfeeding, and when it comes to the unethical and demonstrably harmful advertising practices of the infant formula industry, my preaching leans hard toward the hellfire and damnation variety because that is some truly evil shit, folks -- the advertising practices, not the formula milk itself; let's be very, very clear about that.

Rules: Tag 15 people you want to get to know better.

Here I shall echo @imaginationdrift: "(Really?! That sounds like a number chosen by an extroverted maven.) / Ok, here goes. / FEEL FREE TO: never complete this. I won’t be disappointed, promise." Also, apologies to those who have already responded -- feel even freer to ignore. 

@garrulus  @rikerssexblouse  @klugtiger  @ussjellyfish  @kate-coleman-writes  @lameraextranjera  @armitagetrekkie  @warp6  @admiralkatcornwellfan @zjofierose  @writtenndust @trekkiefeminist @quirkette100 @nerdfishgirl @hoidn

[secondgenerationnerd]

Times Change

Author’s note: I have a really bad week so I wrote this to get some cuteness/angst out. This is different than a similar fic I wrote called “New Beginnings” It’s set in the same universe as “People Can Change” and “Things Change.” Like! Review! Reblog

Irey wakes up in a room that she doesn’t recognize. She hears the familiar beep of a heart monitor. Her mother sleeps in a chair beside her bed. Irey moans as she attempts to move. Her head feels like its stuffed with cotton. Her muscles feel like lead. Her mother is awake in an instant.

         “M-mo-m…” Irey tries to speak. Her throat burns with effort.

         “Shhhh…It’s ok, I’m here, honey…” Linda soothes. “They just took a breathing tube out of your throat, baby… It might hurt to talk for a little while…”

         “Wha…What happened?” Irey fights tears at the pain.

         “What do you remember?”

         “Heretic…” Everything comes in flashes. A condemned building. Monsters from every which way. Explosions. Damian pulling her into a small room for a moment. A fast kiss. A desperate kiss. Running. Running. Running. Damian fighting heretic- “D-Dami…Where’s Dami…?”

         Linda gives her the look. The look that makes her stomach churn. The look that makes it hard to breathe. She knows what her mother is going to say,” Baby…Damian was killed.”

         “No…” The word is soft, but becomes louder as she starts to scream,” No! No! NO! DAMIAN! NO! NO! AHHHHH!”

         “IREY!” Linda holds her daughter tight,” Irey! I know! I know you’re hurting! I know! But you can’t thrash around!”

         Irey’s vision is blurred with fiery tears, unable to breathe. He can’t be gone! He can’t! They just moved into their first apartment together! They were talking about getting married! This isn’t real! All that seems to fall out of her mouth though is his name.

         “DAMIAN! DAMIAN! DAAAAAMIIIIII!” Irey fights her mother.

         Linda hasn’t been married to a hero for nothing as she holds tight to her daughter,” Irey! Please stop! Stop! IREY, YOU”RE PREGNANT, STOP!”

         Irey freezes. She looks at her mother,” Wh-What did you say?”

         “You’re pregnant. The doctor said maybe two months, but the baby’s presenting as 4.” Linda strokes her daughter’s hair,” You’ve been in a coma for a month…”

         Irey places a hand on her belly. She expects to feel the same soft muscles of her stomach. Instead…she feels a soft but defined curve. Linda watches as her daughter shuts down. Irey’s tender heart has never been able to handle horrible news. Linda has seen horrible things over the years, but this is the worst. Linda presses a kiss to her daughter’s head and holds her.

         “it’s ok… I’m here for you…. I’m right here, baby…”

         Baby…

         Baby…

         Her baby…

         Damian’s baby…

         Their baby…

……………………………………………………………………………………….

         Irey walks slowly through the Wayne Graveyard. It’s always been her least favorite part of the manor’s property. Each step threatens to be too much for her. But she continues… To the newest addition. Lily flowers rest in front of it, and the faint smell of sage. Her shaking fingers trace over his name.

Damian Wayne

Son, Brother, Friend, Hero, Father

         Irey traces the last word, the other hand resting on her belly. She’s only been awake a month, but the doctor says her baby- no, her daughter as the last ultrasound showed- is about six months developed, despite Irey only being three months pregnant. Irey was able to convince them to let her out for a day. She sits on the grass beside his tombstone.

         “H-Hi, Dami…” Irey starts,” I’m sorry I missed your funeral…I-I was in a coma…I wanted to…I would have come at least… I would have cried as hard as I did when I woke up…”

         Tears roll freely down her cheeks,” I didn’t know I was pregnant during that fight… I never would have gone…You never would have let me… Maybe if you hadn’t been distracted by me… We’d be sitting under our tree… talking about baby names… maybe planning our wedding for after she’s born…. You make a joke about having her dressed as a flower… you get to feel her kick…”

         Irey can’t speak for a few minutes. It hurts too much. She wraps her arms around her belly, keeping their daughter safe. When she can finally speak, she tries to stay strong, like she knows he would want,” I wish you could have met her… She’s a little thing right now, smaller than most babies…. But she’s healthy…. She’s strong…. Like you…. Like you would have taught her to be…”

         “I haven’t been able to go back to our apartment… I’ve been subletting it…” Irey knows she can’t stay much longer. It’s too much,” I’ll go back to it one day… for now…. I need to take care of our girl…”

         Irey manages to stand with some difficulty. She kisses her fingers before pressing them to the cold stone,” I love you… So much… Present tense…”

…………………………………………………………………………………

          Her daughter is born on the fourth of July. Irey requests to be alone in the hospital room. It’s a hard, long labor, but eventually, Irey gives birth to a beautiful little girl. They lay her baby on chest. Asha. That’s the name she chose for her daughter. Arabic for “Alive and well.” And her baby is just that. Alive. Healthy.

         No one visits the first day. Irey asked that too. What with the big family and so many friends, she just wanted a day to be with her daughter. Asha sleeps most of it, aside from the moments she cries for food. Irey nurses her happily. In the moments Asha sleeps, Irey takes her in.

         Asha’s skin is ruddy right now, but Irey can tell that she has Damian’s skin tone. A full head of pitch-black curls. Irey’s nose. Soft pink lips that move gently, like she’s already trying to speak. Irey only puts her in a diaper, letting her sleep on her mother’s bare chest. Irey still keeps a blanket over her. A very special one.

         Milagro had made it for her out of Damian’s old capes. The fabric still smells like him. Asha coos softly, happily. Irey hums to her. Forgetting all the pain that it took to get her here.

         The next few days are doctors and visitors. Jai comes as soon as he can, holding his niece so Irey can nap throughout the day. He chuckles when Asha spits up on him, joking that it must be the Damian in her that still hates him. Her parents are there in shifts, her mom in the morning and her dad at night. Most of Damian’s family doesn’t come, but she’s told they’re on a mission. Irey doesn’t care. Every night, she refuses to let the nurses take Asha to the nursery. She convinced something bad will happen to her baby.

         Irey doesn’t expect much as her parents drive her to the tower. She’ll be staying there while she figures things out. Asha sleeps in her car seat the whole way. Irey presses soft kisses to her little hands. Irey wants nothing more than to hold her. But she can’t. Not yet.

         “Here we go, Asha.” Irey carries her into the living room,” Dad? Why are the lights all off?”

         “Surprise!” The lights turn on to show a huge party. Irey gives a smile. Everyone from the justice league is there, many from the league are there, her family and friends. All as a belated baby shower. Irey sits on the couch, watching most of them. Asha is grumpy about the noise, making most of them laugh. Irey thinks it has to do with the Robin onesie she put Asha in. The baby is passed to many people, Diana proclaims that she will be a great warrior one day.

         “Irey, does she seem hungry to you?” Wally asks while he holds his granddaughter.

         “Yeah… she eats more often than most babies. I have a formula I’m supposed to feed her with my milk. There should be some in the fridge.” Jai brings his dad a bottle of the formula. Irey smiles at her daughter as she eats. Asha already has beautiful long lashes that flutter over her cheeks as she sucks on the bottle. Irey laughs as Mar’i, Lian, and Milagro pull her off the couch to dance. “Love You Like the Movies” comes on. Irey remembers dancing to it with Damian the night before they were discovered as a couple.

She closes her eyes and remembers that night as she dances with her friends. Dancing at that party, an undercover mission. Damian coming up behind her, holding her hips as they move side to side. The feeling of his breath on her neck, his nose trailing along her skin. Turning to face him, her chest against his. Both of his hands on her waist. The way he looked at her like she was everything he could ever want…

Irey’s eyes open when she realizes the room has gone dead silent. She looks at Milagro and Lian, as they’re in front of her. But they seem focused on what’s behind her. She turns and her breathing stops.

She knows those blue eyes. She knows that messy hair. She knows that stubborn stubble. She knows those lips, opened, wanting to speak, but not sure what to say. She knows the way he grips his wrist, scared to reach for her. She knows him.

She loves him.

She runs to him.

It doesn’t matter that there are at least a hundred people in the room. It doesn’t matter that she must jump over the couch. It doesn’t matter that his skin is cooler to the touch. All that matters is the way his hands bury themselves in her hair, hers gripping the back of his shirt. All that matters is the way his heart beats against her fingertips, the way his hot tears spill onto her skin. All that matters is his lips against hers when he finally pulls her into a kiss.  

She knows these lips.

Her Damian finally pulls back and softly goes,” I’m sorry I’m late.”

Irey gives a laugh broken by a sob,” Better late than never.”

“My Iris… My flower…” He wipes her tears away,” I will never leave you again. I swear it.”

“You don’t just have me to swear that too.” The whole room holds its breath as Irey goes to her father. She carefully picks up their baby and turns to him,” Damian…This is your daughter…Asha Nuri West-Wayne…”

The look on Damian’s face can only be described as shock. He slowly approaches Irey and Asha. Then does something no one in the room had ever seen him do. He falls to his knees in front of the loves of his life. He presses a soft kiss to his daughter’s soft curls,” Asha… I swear on my life…I will never leave again…never…I promise…”

……………………………………………………………………………………

         After that, the party is in full swing again. Irey smiles brighter than any of them have seen in months. Damian spins her around as they dance and kiss. He holds his daughter as often as he can, even dancing with her resting against his shoulder. No one in the room can deny the love they feel from the young couple.

         As the night wears on, none seem to notice the family fall asleep on the love seat. Irey presses her face into his neck, her legs thrown over his lap. Damian rests his head on hers, one arm wrapped around her shoulders protectively. The other holds their daughter to his chest. One of Irey’s hands rests on Asha’s little back.

         The baby sleeps peacefully. Protected by those heroes around her. And warmed by her parents’ love.

[breatheeasy808]

Day 08- Short term goals for this month and why 

Before I got hospitalized, I weighed about 155 pounds. I maintained a fairly active lifestyle—bicycling and engaging in full body calisthenics two to three times a week, regularly swimming and hiking whenever I was in Hawaii—but also indulged in plenty of fried, delicious, and carb-heavy foods every opportunity I had, in addition to drinking lots of alcohol—mostly craft beers and wines. Most of my t-shirts and button up shirts were a size medium, and and I straddled a 30-31 inch waist size for context.

All that of that changed after I got hospitalized, however, and over the course of seven months I lost about 45 pounds. My entire physical frame shrank considerably due to the fact that for the majority of my time there, I was not allowed to eat or drink any foods or liquids by mouth and only received the bare minimum amount of nutritional formula necessary to keep me alive through a nasal feeding tube. At my lowest, I weighed about 109 pounds soaking wet. One day it hit me like a ton of bricks just how much weight I had actually lost while I was comparing my arm size to that of my younger sister and I realized that her arm was noticeably bigger than mine. By the time I was discharged, I resembled a prisoner of war who had just been freed from a Vietcong POW camp.

Aside from the expected difficulties of relearning to breathe on my own without hyperventilating, one of the biggest mental challenges I faced in the first month of being out of the hospital was looking at myself in the mirror each day and seeing my emaciated frame staring back at me. My face admittedly looked a bit more handsomely angular without some excess lower chin fat like it did before and I lost the slight beer belly that I had gained in the last few years, but my arms in particular looked sickeningly gaunt and I lost almost all the lower body and leg muscles I had developed from years of biking and hiking. Worst of all, it was uncomfortable to sit down for extended periods of time because I no longer had a firm natural seat cushion since my glutes had atrophied the most after all those months of lying dormant in a hospital bed. I felt self-conscious to be seen in public if I was not wearing long pants or a jacket for a while, and I internally cringed whenever I happened to see my figure in some passing reflection.

Fortunately, all the high calorie and high protein meals my mother has been cooking me for the last four months have finally allowed me to gain some healthy weight back. As of this morning, I weighed a little over 135 pounds. For this next month, my short term goal is to focus on gaining not just weight but specifically muscle mass. I recently acquired two ten pound barbells and while it might not seem like much compared to how much I could lift before, it will allow myself to establish a more disciplined workout regiment to regain some definition and bulk up without just gaining excess weight indefinitely. The goal is to workout 5-6 days a week, both upper body, legs, and core and use the stationary bike at my grandma's house for cardio.

And of course, an additional short term goal is to complete this 30 day challenge and continue writing afterwards with the intention of cultivating this as a regular habit into my everyday routine.

[life-with-my-three]

Fletcher update:

It's harder than the start to update, because I'm not being forced to stay in bed, and I'm not trapped in a car for 5 hours a day to get to the NICU.

Fletcher is doing amazing! Kicking some serious goals. He's now 3 weeks (and 2 days) old. Considering what a rough start he had, he is a super little guy!

He's just passed over the 2.3kg mark which means his weight goal to come home is now complete. The only thing stopping him from coming home now is his oral feeding.

We had a couple of fantastic breast feeds last week where he had half his full feed amount, and then the rest down his nasogastric. That seems to have halted somewhat though.

The problem now is we were at somewhat of a crossroads. He needs to feed orally to come home, he's not quite big enough to manage the breast (his mouth isn't big enough to get a great latch still). The other issue is the more we try and push on with breast or NG only, the higher the risk for him becoming reliant on the tube and developing an oral aversion.

I was asked therefore if I was willing to try bottles today.

I wanted to cry. I feel like such a failure (bottle feeding is not a failure, Riley was bottle and formula fed). I wanted to breast feed so bad. He would still be getting breast milk, just EBM as opposed to straight from the breast.

I guess it's a lack of control. I'm a complete control freak. There's not arguing about that. And every single thing about Fletcher's birth has been completely out of my control. And this is just one more thing I have lost complete control over. It gives me immense anxiety. Everything is just...falling.

Anyway, putting aside my need for control, logical Morgan decided to give the bottle a try. 1) he will get home a heck of a lot quicker and that would be amazing! And 2) I don't want to create further issues that don't currently exist by being so adamant on pushing so hard with breast or tube only.

When I'm at the nursery though we always offer breast first. Then bottle and finally tube.

He had next to nothing on the breast today. He sucked the whole 52mls of his first ever bottle feed down today, and on the next feed 45mls of his feed.

I'm so happy because this means home possibly in the next week or two, but I'm heartbroken.

Obviously this doesn't mean that when he grows a bit he will be able to switch to solely the breast. Which is why breast is being offered first. To hopefully keep him familiar with the concept and work on it. But arghh!

I'm going to try a feed with the lactation consultant tomorrow to try and work on alternative options for getting him on the breast. The nipple shield today was a complete bust.

We then have the issue of my supply. I was getting an awesome supply. But in the last week it was completely dwindled to a level that I am barely getting enough to even keep up with Fletcher.

I'm drinking tons (think 5 litres yesterday) and started motilium today in the hopes of boosting my supply, but if it drops any more my hopes of feeding him exclusively with breast milk is gone. Again lack of control.

Fletch has also been having issues with what we have now deemed silent reflux. He tenses and grunts to the point he doesn't breathe and desats and becomes real tachycardic and was extremely unsettled. We elevated his cot two days ago and it has made a difference and after discussion with the doctors decided tonight to start him on medication.

He had his caffeine stopped on Thursday and is doing great off it. So now is only on vit d, iron and now the reflux meds.

This post completely turned into a woe is me on the whole breast feeding thing so apologies. But yep! Fletch = Amazing! Hopefully not long until home!

Also awesome regularly assigned midwives are worth gold! Seriously have kept me sane!

[hansolmates]

ot13; the ways you said "i love you"

feat: reader x seventeen 

genre: marshmallow fluff, random au with each member

word count: 6283

summary: the thirteen ways seventeen shows how much they care about you

rated p for terrible puns and tastefully executed profanity

Hoshi, “Cheer up, baby!”

The room was stifling hot, like a piping cup of tea that refused to cool despite the open windows and the cross-breeze provided by the fan and open door. Handwritten notes with meticulously color-coded titling and highlighting were sticking to the backs of your arms as they were intricately arranged like a table mat over your desk.

“Are you done yet?”

You felt your fingers twitch in irritation, the spasm causing a fine red line to streak between what was the molecular formula for one of your polysaccharides. “Hosh, I have an exam tomorrow.” you tried to respond as levelly as possible, careful not to snap at him because he’s the only one who’s stood to deal with your nearly crisped mind all day.  

“I’m sorry, sugar.” he was laying upside-down on your small mattress, his bare legs stretched over your wall and his sleeveless arms spread apart on the unmade sheets. His head was tilted towards the back of yours. “I’m like TT just thinking about how stressed out you are.”

Using all your willpower to not turn around and cuddle the hell out of your boyfriend, you started to scribble intelligible formulas onto your notebook. “Really, Twice references?”  

“Ooh ah ah ah,” Hoshi tsked, and your heard the soft pat pat his marigold yellow tube socks made against your posters. “You should’ve expected it when I knock knocked on your door this morning.”

This time you had to bite your pen to hide the giggle that was quickly bubbling its way to your lips. Swiveling around in your chair, you tried not to ignore the fact that Hoshi’s eyes lit up like summer stars at having a view of you that wasn’t your hunched over back. “And what, are you trying to send me a signal or something?” you played along, finally throwing your pen behind to god-knows-where on your desk.

Like a jack-in-the-box, Hoshi popped off from your bed and kneeled over your sitting form, his fingers padding across your bare thighs enthusiastically. Now that you’ve finally reciprocated his terribly arranged puns, it was time to put his plan in action. “Yes! I think there’s some ice cream in the freezer downstairs. I’ll go get something for us, I think it’s about time you take a break.” he got up slowly, but not before pressing a warm kiss to your forehead. Not uncomfortably warm like the weather, but the kind of warm that spread to your fingers and toes and made you feel all fuzzy and safe. “In the meantime, cheer up baby! You’re going to kill this exam, I promise.”

“Okay,” you caved in, bringing a thumb to pinch the apple of his reddened cheeks. If anything concerned Hoshi, you didn’t have to think about it twice.

Seungcheol, “You’re my favorite pain in the ass.”

“I’m dying. This is it. This is how I go.”

“Sweetheart, we’re almost up the mountain. We can’t stop now.” he smiled encouragingly at your pouting face.

You kept your butt firmly glued on the large rock you plopped on, crossing your arms. “I told you that I didn’t wanna go hiking.” your shrugged. “I don’t know why you pushed me to do it.”

Seungcheol gave you a frown on his own, plopping his backpack on the ground.  He ran a hand through his dark locks, unconsciously accentuating his broad shoulders and biceps that were clearly seen through his dri-fit muscle tee. Normally this would urge you to make a comment that Seungcheol had been working out well and the results were definitely paying off, but it made you feel even more conscious of how different you two were. He was always up for new challenges and keeping a strict workout regimen, while you enjoyed the comfort of your own home huddled under the blankets with your favorite pint of ice cream.

Your legs felt like they were on fire, combined with the sun and humidity that decided to graze your day like a balm that refused to unstick to your skin. There were already a couple scrapes and bruises that were already tended to by Seungcheol, due to the fact that you tripped a couple times because you weren’t used to walking at such an incline.

Seungcheol’s eyes suddenly brightened, reflective of the afternoon sun as he bent down to your level. “Get on my back, I’ll carry you up the mountain.” he said, reaching blindly for your hands.

“What? That’s crazy! I’m heavy as hell.” you cried, pushing yourself farther up the rock.

“No you’re not. C’mon, if you get on you get to see the beautiful view, and I get my back workout for the day. Everyone wins.” 

“I don’t know, Cheol.” you frowned, already feeling the guilt creep up on you. 

”Please?” he gave you the signature puppy eyes, twiddling his fingers so you’d fall onto his back.

Mulling it over for a few seconds, you sighed, understanding that Seungcheol would be here all day if you didn’t make a decision soon. Curse the combined efforts of your stubborn personality and weak legs. Reaching over to put his backpack over your shoulders, you slowly gripped his back. You felt his hands scoop under your thighs, hauling you up and farther away from the dirt path. Resting your head between his neck you mumbled, “I’m sorry I’m such a pain in the ass.” you muttered embarrassingly, rubbing your blushing face against his shoulder.  

Feeling the satisfied smile in his voice he replied proudly, “You’re my favorite pain the ass.”

Chan, “After you, m’lady.”

“Give me some credit here. You may be the best at dancing,” you gestured to the open wooden floor of your living space with the tables pushed aside, “But I absolutely kill it at video games.”

The single most attractive thing about Chan was definitely his confidence. The way his eyes narrowed at the challenge, whether it was a race to the shower or finishing up your schoolwork, Chan was always ready to one-up. But you weren’t having that today, not when he’s in your home playing your console.

The Dance Dance Revolution mat was spread evenly in front of the television, used previously on expert mode to BTS’ “Fire”. There was a sizable dent in the soft plastic, due to both of you fitting your bodies on the mat to buttonsmash during the breakdown.

You could feel Chan’s body heat radiate like a furnace, kissing your skin and burning through the thin fabric of your t-shirt. Chan was like a fountain, grabbing the napkins from your take-out lunch and dabbing underneath his oakwood bangs. His smile was infallible through his melting form on the couch, the diamond whites doing nothing to control the adrenaline pumping your heart into overdrive.

“That’s just because you have good hand-eye coordination, if you really had a dance off with me your legs would be crying in jealousy because I’m so good.” he reasoned smugly.

“I wouldn’t even have a dance off with you to begin with.” you snapped playfully, picking up another clean napkin to pat the beads of sweat by his collarbones. “No way would I be feeding into your ego. Besides. I’m the one that just beat your high score.” you added with a proud smirk, nudging his jelly-like figure on the couch to show your initials emblazoned on the screen.

His eyes subconsciously narrowed at that, and any notice of him melting on the couch ten minutes ago had evaporated. Instead his body was firm and defiant as he sat up to learn teasingly over you, his face inches from yours. “You won’t be gloating about your high score after this next round, babe.” he said lowly, noses touching and his hot breath fanning your already flushed face.

The little growl in his endearment was almost intimidating, if it not were the fact that it was a lazy Monday afternoon and you were equally dressed only in long t-shirts and underwear.

“Is that a challenge?” you raised a brow, eyes darting to the blinking video game that was awaiting their next song. “Watch and learn, Chan. Watch and learn.”

Laying back in his seat, he threw a lazy smile to the DDR mat. “After you, m’lady.” he said with a grandiose flourish of his hands, awaiting your next move. 

Seungkwan, “You better eat.”

Some random Heize song was playing from the restaurant speakers, filling the room with aesthetic indie music. Of course Seungkwan felt the need to harmonize along with the singer, his voice permeating throughout the eatery like a second skin.

“Are you trying to get yourself noticed?” you asked lightly, drumming your fingers against the countertop as you gave him an imploring look.

Seungkwan shrugged coolly, a small smile playing on the tip of his tongue. “Well, I kinda do and I kinda don’t. Like, I wanna get noticed because my voice deserves to be noticed,  but I also do wanna have this date uninterrupted.”

“Then may I kindly suggest that you shut up?”

“You shut up. My voice is beautiful.”

“I didn’t say it wasn’t.” you huffed with a pout, reaching over the squeeze his hand. “Your voice is beautiful, just not when we’re trying to avoid Dispatch.”

“True.” he nodded, adjusting closer in the booth to place both his hands over yours.

At that moment Seungkwan’s meal arrived, an old lady dressed like an 80s American in a poodle skirt swinging around their table like it was her roller rink. She placed a large burger on Seungkwan’s side with a heaping side of fries, swiss cheese oozing from every corner of the plate.

With a kind thank you that would give any mother a run for their money, Seungkwan proceeded to cut the burger into tiny pieces. You twirled the straw of your ice water around as you focused on the window facing the streets, pretending not to notice how delicious that burger looked. You were still waiting on your grilled chicken salad, as per your new trainer’s instructions, but it definitely did not compare to the decadence of a classic American lunch.

“Hey.” you could practically feel his glare laser through your backside.

“Hm?” you replied absentmindedly, clinking the ice together with your straw.

“You better eat.” you could feel the challenge in his voice, daring you to argue back.

“I will.” you replied with a routine wave of your hand, turning back to look at Seungkwan straight in his almond brown eyes. Just for good measure, you puffed your cheeks and bloated your lips in a frown, trying to look convincing. “Don’t worry about me, Boo.”

With a straight face he started cutting his burger furiously, the metal grating against the plate as he kept his eyes on you. “I don’t care how adorable you look doing that. You worry me no matter what. And you’re going to share this burger with me, and we’ll have the salad after and pretend we’re healthy human beings.” he stabbed his fork into the meat and buttered bread, pressing it to your lips. “You’re even prettier when you’re on a full stomach.”

Swallowing the silly grin you opened your mouth, letting him feed you. It was probably the magic of your boyfriend’s words, but it was very well the most delicious burger you had in a long while.

Minghao, “Just because.”

You don’t know how you ended up on the Ferris wheel with Minghao, your cart and the quickly setting sun in complete sync as they made their respective ways to the top and to its set, but you weren’t complaining at all.

Minghao was a contrast of sorts, the type that would meet with his friends on his longboard like rain and routine. He’d give nothing but warm hugs and diamond smiles to his friends, and then give you a blank stare and a minimal nod of acknowledgement whenever you two were alone.

He was the epitome of hard to get, and it frustrated you to no end. You decided that getting him to talk to you was moot, if it wasn’t so obvious to him that you were interested in being more than just friends you’d be holding a sign in neon green screaming “I think I like you, jerk!”

But here you were, holding a stuffed bunny in your arms as the ferris wheel floated higher and higher from the ground. It was unceremoniously shoved in your grasp when you were saying how much you wanted it on your stroll down the game booth.  Minghao appeared after five minutes of him leaving to “get a drink of water” with a petal pink oversized bunny in his lithe arms. You didn’t even realize Minghao had left until he showed up with his lips jutted in a semi-grimace, leaving you mildly dumbfounded.

Every little creak and squeak of the metal and plastic ride was felt under your feet, which only frazzled you further because of the close distance between you and Minghao. It wasn’t a very spacious carriage, it only held pairs, and conveniently so Minghao was the odd number out of his party of twelve other friends. Not that you were complaining, not when his thigh was touching yours as you went higher and higher, his hand on his knee ticking along his mental clock.

“So, why’d ya do it?” you finally ask, clutching the stuffed bunny closer to your chest.

“Hm?” he peeled his hand from his jeans, oh-so-casually lifting it so it would reach the back of your seat rest. He needed to stretch his arms, the carriage was tight, you reasoned mildly.

“You won me the bunny I wanted. I didn’t even know you could shoot a BB gun.” you added with  a playful smirk, curling your fingers around the soft cotton of the prize.

“Yeah.” he bobbed his head, his milk chocolate bangs bouncing against the wind. “Well, you just use your dominant eye to find through the viewfinder at the distant object higher than the actual—”

“Minghao,” you gave him a stern look, using the arm of your bunny to smack him lightly on the side. “I’m asking why you took a shot for me, not how you shoot.”

“Oh,” he swallowed, his cheeks shaded in a pink blotch. “Just because.”

“Because?”

“Because I wanted to.” his arm still hadn’t left from over you, the forces of gravity have been weighing said arm further and further across your very shoulders. “Isn’t that a good enough excuse?”

You looked up through your lashes, feigning innocence. “I guess. Then can I kiss you?”

His face was now practically oozing embarrassment, previous bad-boy-fake-hard-to-get persona was melting like a snow-cone on the Fourth of July. “Wait, what?” if it were possible, he would’ve backed all the way up against the walls of the carriage. “I—mean, yeah. Wait, really? Why?”

You shrugged, tilting your head against the position of his moistened lips. “To thank you. The sun is setting prettily and like you said, just because.”

Vernon, “Your skin’s like the inside of a toasted marshmallow.” (aka Vernon’s loopy as shit after getting his wisdom teeth removed)

“I’m sorry, but do you mind taking the backroads home?” you asked in your most temperate, kind voice to your cab driver. “It’s quicker and I’ll tell you the directions, ah. There—past that restaurant, please turn left. Then you just have to go straight until you see the white complex.”

Despite the fact that the AC is on in the tiny convertible, you still felt uncomfortable with sweat sticking your hair to your neck and over a hundred and fifty pounds of muscle feeling like dead weight on your lap.

A little part of you wished you had smushed your pride when you could three hours ago when Junhui offered to come with you to the dentist while Vernon was getting his wisdom teeth removed. At least then you’d have an extra person to help you carry away your inebriated boyfriend. You remember how Vernon scoffed when you told him the anesthesia might make him a little silly and annoying—”Psh. Babe I got this.”

“’Re we—are we swimmin’ or somethin’?” His voice sounded like it was blocked off by a balloon, swollen and sore. Vernon must have gotten dizzier after trying to lug him in the cab, you had no idea how much pain relief the doctors gave him, but it was certainly enough for him to come out walking like a toddler. “I feel like poo.” he whined.

“You are a poo.”

“Meh mouf hurts.” he complained some more, throwing an arm over his head where the sunlight was hitting his eyes.

“Then I’d suggest that you stop talking.”

He groaned into your lap, his wet lips tickling your thigh as he pressed his face into them like a pillow. “Damn. Your skin’s like the inside of a toasted marshmallow.” he sighed contentedly into your skin, nuzzling his swollen cheeks against the milky soft skin. “All warm n’ fluffy.”

You chuckled at his random confession, a hand automatically going to pat his dampened bangs off his forehead. “Thanks?”

“See, Mr. Taxi driver?” Vernon gurgled drunkenly, holding a hand out to beckon their driver. “This person, righ’ hur’,” his pointer finger jutted against your chin, “Is da love of my life. They carryin’ mah loopy ass all the way home and play with my hair and it feels really freakin’ good almost as good as that one time—”

“Vern, please shut up.” you snorted, tugging on a strand of his hair. “I love you too, but only if you stay quiet the rest of the ride.”

“See? And they’re demanding. That’s hot. This person righ’ here, they lit.” and Vernon promptly passes out, and you could’ve sworn you could feel his drool start to coat your thighs.

With a heavy sigh, you play with his hair some more and wonder how much effort it would take to lug Vernon up all those stairs when you got home. He may be a mess, but he’s your mess.  

Wonwoo, “How am I not sick of you yet?”

“To be fair, the soundtrack of Hercules is on another level. I understand when you want to belt out “I won’t say I’m in love” because you’re totally in denial but it’s been a couple days and there’s other movies to sing from.” Wonwoo tipped down the fat novel he’d been carrying around this past week, barely a couple chapters in because he was taking his time. His legs were sprawled across the couch, propped up by a mountain of throw pillows and fresh laundry that never got to their drawers.

“Are you trying to crush my dreams?” you bristled playfully, pausing the beloved film with a snap of your remote.

“You have dreams, darling? I thought I was your dream.” he pushed his metal-rimmed glasses up to the bridge of his nose, sending you a smile that could be deemed half-cute if it wasn’t for the fact that he was trying to be cheeky with you when you were in your happy place.

“Go to hell.”

“Ah-ah, that’s not the Disney mentality.” Wonwoo smirked, lifting his book once more and effectively shutting himself out of the living room.

On lazy days like this, it was normal for you two to bask in each other’s presence. You didn’t have to be having full-out conversation or go buy a fancy dinner to feel like you’ve spent quality time together. Lowering the volume of the television, you padded over in your socks behind the couch, hovering over Wonwoo’s shoulder. His scent wasn’t anything special or fancy, fresh laundry detergent and bar soap, but something about it on him made it feel all the more comforting.

“Wonwoo.” you play-whispered, resting your chin on his shoulder.

He ignored you, taking a full five seconds before flipping the page, the crinkle of paper painfully loud in the tiny apartment.

“Wonwoo,” you sang, “Do you wanna build a snowman?”

“Don’t you dare continue.” he tilts his head at you feigning sternness. “Really, Frozen Fever?”

“It’s a beautiful movie about unconventional love.” you huffed, biting his shoulder for a split second before your hands automatically wove themselves around his shoulders. “Can I sit with you?”

“And read?”

“And then watch Frozen?” you tried hopefully, batting your lashes.

With a groan, he bookmarked his book and threw it across the couch, deciding that the book had no place for the kind of afternoon you wanted to have. Sliding the pillows and clothes aside, he opened a place between his legs. “How am I not sick of you yet?” he teased with an upturn of his lips, urging you onto his lap.

The couch felt plenty more comfortable when it was the two of you squishing yourselves in the plush cotton. You felt his nose nuzzle between your neck and collarbone, the warm material of his sweater weaving around your waist and lips pressing smiles into your bare skin.   

“Because some people are just worth melting for.”

Joshua, “Stay warm.”

The checklist for a good night’s rest included the new quilt you got from Target fresh from the dryer, lavender scented candles diffusing the small bedroom, and finally a frayed mauve sweater that Joshua accidentally left in your laundry basket last time he came over. The only thing that was missing however, was Joshua himself.

“Are you sure you’re not mad?” Joshua’s speakerphone voice asked worriedly, his furrowed gaze looking at you from his own iPhone. His forehead was glazed with fresh sweat, the tips of his chocolate bangs bunched up together due to the moisture.

“Not my fault you’re well on your way to be a successful multi-million music artist.” you teased, “With a red Chevrolet.”

“I’m just an idol practicing without a second of sleep. The usual.” he muttered, his cranberry blush viewable through the small phone screen. “Did the electric guy fix the heating?”

“No.” you sighed with a pout, “I don’t know how cold Alaska is, but it sure as hell feels like it.”

“Oh.” he frowned, the cupid’s bow of his petal pink lips stuck in a prominent pout. “I wish I could be there and cuddle with you.” There were loud whoops and hollers (the painfully distinct YEAHHHHH BOIIIIII GET ‘EMMMMMM coming from none other than Hansol Vernon Chwe) from his side of the call. “Guys, quiet.” he threw you an apologetic smile. “Stay warm, okay? Good night.”

You managed a wispy “sweet dreams” before the call ended. Melting into the covers you stretched your neck to blow your candle out, and tugged Joshua’s sweater closer to your nose to envelop yourself in his clean laundry scent.

It wasn’t until the wee hours of five A.M. when your covers were spilling off the bed and the sun was threatening to peel through the curtained navy sky that Joshua slipped in your apartment undetected. He hoped you didn’t mind that he hadn’t showered before coming, he took the first cab he saw the millisecond they were dismissed. Seeing your face was well worth it, calm but glowing like fireflies in the middle of the night. A delicate, tired smile took over his features as he dumped his bag on top your desk chair and threw off his outer clothes. He shivered at the rush of cold air, hopping in the bed’s empty space and immediately picking up the fallen comforter. Tucking you both in, he made sure that the soft blankets were up to your chin so there was no way you’d be freezing tonight with both him and the sheets in bed.

Brushing a stray baby hair from your forehead, his eyes fluttered like feathers and his warm murmur of “Surprise, I’m home.” echoed throughout your bedroom.

Seokmin, “I’m keeping you.”

The only thing left to do, was feel.

It was the rain and routine of your brain, acting out of your own volition. Chemicals fired off appropriately, like clockwork. Epinephrine, norepinephrine, serotonin. Seokmin didn’t even have to touch you, just one, deep look and you were a goner. It was a little embarrassing, but your feelings were nothing but candid for the person in front of you.

Bewildered, and aggravated, you felt your palm being dampened by the arylide yellow of the highlighter. You glared at the awful color bleeding your skin, proceeding to rub harder and probably making the ink bleed deeper into your flesh.

“Oh, that sucks.” Seokmin reached for your palm like it was his, running his long fingers over the open skin of your hand.  “I’ll go find some napkins.” And he gave you that sweet, gummy smile of reassurance, even though it was only ink, before pushing his chair and walking out.

Your eyes couldn’t help but follow him throughout the coffee shop, unable to hide your smile as you watched him ask the cashier for napkins, specifying that the napkins needed to be slightly damp because you were too caught up in your homework to notice that your highlighter was faulty. He returned not a moment later, kneeling on the floor and his hand automatically flying back to rub the yellow ink out of your skin. The cold water of the napkin simmered against the heat of your skin, and you couldn’t help but focus on the way his dark eyelashes curled around his crinkled eyes as he hummed to himself.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he blurted, snapping his head up to look at you.

You reeled your head back, looking affronted. “I’m not looking at you like anything.”

“I can feel when someone stares at me. Admit it,” he said smugly, “Say it. You love me!”

“You love me, Seokmin.”  you said with a neutral face, pushing his face away with your pointer finger. No way were you going to say it out loud.

He easily obliged, satisfied that the napkin cleaned off most of the ink. “It’s okay if you can’t say it yet. Just like I can feel you staring at me, I can feel your feelings.” his hands lingered over yours, taking the utmost care as his gentle grip swiped against the pads of your fingers.

You felt your heart starting to pump faster, your face warming, and the cafe melting into the background as you focused on nothing but Seokmin. The effect he had on you was addicting.

“Until you say it,” he laughed, returning to his seat. “I’m keeping you. And even after that, I’m still keeping you.”

“Wonderful.” you snorted, picking out a new highlighter. “We’ll be together a long time then. Now, quiz me.”

As you watch him pick out a notebook of his own, you felt the familiar chemicals wrack your form. He sends you an energetic smile, urging you to study along. You smiled back, letting yourself feel.  Epinephrine, norepinephrine, serotonin.

Jeonghan, “Stay there, I’m getting you.”

Jeonghan routinely kept his phone on “do not disturb” during the night, because for obvious reasons he did not want to be disturbed. He found sweet solace in rest, the cool side of the pillow and a warm lavender air freshener and he was at peace.

He was nearly sure he kept it on “do not disturb” but he couldn’t ignore the fact that his phone still picked up notifications like a homing beacon, white light shining from the cellphone grasped in his loose grip when he fell asleep hours ago.   

Biting back a few curses from the bright light going through his eyelids, he moved to flip his phone over, half tempted to hurl it over the bed stand. It wasn’t until his eyelashes fluttered to check the time that he realized he had missed over five consecutive calls, all from you.

You sometimes called when you were pulling all nighters studying, sometimes freaking out, sometimes on the verge of tears.

Blindly swiping to answer, he moaned into the receiver. “Mmpmh?”

“Honey? Hannie!” your voice was a little watery, probably because he was too tired to bother concentrating.

“Baby, whatever you’re doing I’m sure it’s fine.” he proceeded on, wanting to get through your nightly routine as quickly as possible. “You’re strong and intelligent, one exam isn’t going to kill you.”

“Hannie,” you whined louder, and suddenly he was conscious of the way the wind altered your voice. “I’m lost! We were drinking and now I’m at the park because Minhee left me for some fratguy and it’s freezing out.”

Cold air rushing to his face, he pulled away from the warm blanket and held the phone close to his ear. “What? Did you drink a lot? Which park?”

“Mhm, I don’t know which one. Everything’s a little hazy. But there’s a café still open.” your voice sounded sluggish, and it worried him to no end. It was easy enough to sober up to the sound of your voice, even moreso when you were potentially in danger.

“Go to the café and stay warm. Send me the location.” he was throwing on a jacket and pulling your favorite hoodie over his arm, slipping on his ducky slippers. He cursed under his breath as his bare knee bumped into his nightstand looking for his keys, willing his body to wake up faster.

“Thank you,” you said softly, sounding stable, and maybe a little nervous. “My phone’s gonna die, but I’m scared. Come fast, okay? I’m really sorry.”

“It’s alright. Stay there, I’m getting you.”

“And Hannie?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

His phone beeped once, alerting the early end of their call. Feeling his cheeks heat with warmth against the frigid air, Jeonghan’s pearl smile appeared in the midst of the night.

Jun, “I tolerate you.”

Popping another piece of Yu Xiang tofu in his mouth he licked his lips, the pink flesh wiping off a stray scarlet pepper flake. “Can’t handle the spice, sugar?”

Sending him a glare equally hot, you smacked your wooden chopsticks down on the table and furiously uncapped your bottle of water. Your body felt molten hot and your face was probably just as melted, sweat beginning to form at your hairline. The water was liquid heaven, evaporating down your throat like the way liquid simmers on a pan.

“Go to hell.”

“We’re already here.” He gestured to the wide array of Chinese dishes, all varying in levels of spice and saltiness. Jun wanted to have a dinner dedicated to sharing all his home cuisines, but you were more than ready to tap out. “Welcome to hell, would you like to try the hot and sour glass noodles or the fish soup next?” he had on the perkiest face, a smug smile plastered on his golden tan complexion as he pushed another steaming plate on your side of the table.

“Let me breathe,” you whined, reaching for another bottle of water under the kitchen table. “I can’t tolerate spicy that well.”

He pouted, giving you that carefully calculated jut of his lips that gave a run for any puppy’s kibble. “But I tolerate you.” he gushed, puffing out his cheeks and letting his cacao eyes linger to an unidentifiable part of the room.

“Oh, so now you’re trying to be cute about it.” you replied tartly, picking at a slice of tofu with your chopsticks.

“Not trying, succeeding.”

There was a cringe-worthy skrtt of the metal stool hitting the wood, and you watched with piqued interest as Jun bumbled over the oven. You didn’t even realize that the oven was on warm, never mind that Jun had somehow found time to bake while you were together all day. But out of the metal contraption he brandished a chocolate cake, smoothed over with a thin coat of fudge ganache.

Once he placed it in the middle of your table, you squinted your eyes at the scarlet dust that on top of the cake. “Is this cayenne pepper?” you asked with a hand on your chest, feeling betrayed.

“Only for decoration.” he promised, stabbing his fork in the middle corner to feed you a piece. “Gotta save the sweet stuff for my sweetest.” he winked, splotching some chocolate pudding on your lips.

Mingyu, “We make a good team.”

Kim Mingyu never gets nervous. Never ever ever. Not when he had to share his senior project in high school to the rest of his batchmates, not when he had to tell his siblings that their pet fish had tragically died from serious head trauma when he changed the bowls. But when he had to consider you, all the nervousness he should’ve felt eons before resurface like a tidal wave, all in the form of your mere presence.

He has a bad habit of biting the inside of his cheeks as he watches you work, looking adorable and wonderful and just being you. It’s as if he’s trying to swallow all the impulsive words he wants to tell you whenever he hangs out with you: I think you’re beautiful, I think you’re amazing, I think I love—

“What do you think about this color?”

Blinking out of his reverie, he looks at the glossy paint swatch you’re waving in front of his eyes, a periwinkle blue with a muted purple undertone. You’re grinning at him, probably amused that he zoned out more than once this afternoon. “Uh, it looks nice.” he said, forcing his mouth to operate coherently. “It’s a really peaceful shade, very serene. I think a lot of customers would enjoy coming to a place in such a good atmosphere.”

It seemed to be the right response, because your smile lit up like Christmas day, and you marked your paint swatch with a white marker to approve that little detail. “I wouldn’t be able to finish this contracting project without you, Mingyu.” you said gratefully, putting a pile of unwanted paint swatches in a manila envelope.

“We make a good team.” he said, his smile coming just as naturally. He wanted to say more, tell you that this building job wouldn’t be done without your hard work, and he was just your little support system who happened to know how to call the right people and give you comfort when you felt a little too stressed.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you.” you confessed, reaching over your bench to squeeze his shoulder. You were ecstatic about this project, and the fire in your eyes made a subconscious promise that everything would go well. Pulling out your phone you said, “I’m going to call one of the contractors, okay? Thank you thank you so much!”

And before he could even stutter out an “okay” you reached over to kiss his tanned cheek, your scent practically engulfing him and your sweet lips marking his skin like the most delicate of burns. You were already outside talking on your phone by the time he realized that you had kissed him like it was nothing, and yet he felt like he was on Cloud 999.

“I’m so whipped.” he muttered to himself, a dreamy smile melting on his face as he watched you on your phone, looking determined to succeed in the project you two did together.

Jihoon, ”Whatever makes you happy.”

You’ve only been dating each other for a couple months, but every time Jihoon saw you it was like a breath of fresh air in a crowded market, the way a sauna opens your pores and lets you feel like a whole new person. It made him sick to admit it out loud, so he kept those thoughts to himself, reserving these exclusive feelings to be shared to no one, not even you. Even the “L” word was still a bit strong to admit, as much as it felt that way.

He felt a little silly as he over prepared for your date, especially when he arrived an hour early to your apartment only for you to text on his ride there that you had caught a stomach bug and you were in no mood to go out. Nevertheless you let him in, insisting that he should go and wear your sweats and oversized shirts and stay with you the rest of the evening.

Politely declining, he stayed on the couch while you fetched a large blanket, throwing it over both your bodies. You assured that you weren’t going to throw up anytime soon, as long as you didn’t eat anything too heavy.

“Jihoon,” you said, feeling apologetic as you pressed yourself against his outstretched arm. “I’m sorry about our date. We can reschedule soon, and there’s leftover pasta in the oven if you want me to heat it up.”

“It’s okay,” he insisted with a warm smile, pulling you closer against his body. “I’m just glad we can spend time together.”

“Even if it’s comforting me in my tiny couch while I feel like a wet noodle?”

He chuckled, a pale hand reaching to push back your loose baby hairs. “Whatever makes you happy, I’m willing to do.” he promised.

You curled yourself closer to his arms like a little kitten, your nose drifting to the open collar of his buttondown. “Mm,” you murmured, your eyes fluttering shut. “Is that a new cologne? It smells nice.”

He choked out a small “yeah” as you continued to get closer to him, feeling a liquid hot blush spread through every inch of his skin.

“But you must be so stuffy under those clothes. Can we go to the bed, there’s a television in there and we can watch movies. You can change and stuff. If that’s okay with you, Jihoonie.” you added reassuringly, stifling a yawn as you continued to melt in his arms.

The thought of wearing your clothes and sleeping in your bed was ultimately terrifying, but simultaneously exciting. Especially because you were curling up to him like catnip, he can only imagine how much more comfortable it would be in a mattress that smelled just like you, with more than enough room for the both of them. “Would that make you happy?” he asked with a secretive smile, playing with the stray ends of your ponytail.

“It would make me the happiest person in the world.” you giggled tiredly.

“Okay, sounds good to me.”

[recoverydiariesposts]

I dunno if I even want kids anymore. I've read a few articles involving recovering from eating disorders and dealing with pregnancy. I found one that a doctor said that if you really can't get over your ED then you should consider adopting instead, roughly. I don't think I'll ever be able to fully recover, I'm constantly obsessed with my self image, if actually gained more weight than I currently have I would honestly kill myself. I want to lose 30 to 40 pounds, and people in my family gain that much alone from being pregnant. And none of my family's women ever recovered from it, they stayed larger, and even gained more after. My husband even told me I need to get over my issues because that's just how it is and I want kids I'll need to put my feelings on hold for the baby.

I also decided to look into if my depression would get worse with pregnancy, and it may or may not, but the biggest issue is that depression and anxiety (both of which I have a severe amount of) can cause the baby to have development issues or even be born premature, which my family is already at risk for, my husband's father was premature and his niece was 2 months premature and almost didn't make it. If I go through all this trouble to lose the weight and feel comfortable in my body for once to just have me gain it all back or more, I would hate both the child and my husband for doing it to me, I wouldn't make it known because I'm an ass and I bottle everything up. But I'm pretty sure I wouldn't love my child very much cause I would blame them, I don't wanna be like that but I just know I would. Maybe that's a sign I should get an adoption or surrogate, but neither of those are a definite, especially surrogates, because the surrogate can choose to keep the baby and we would not only be out thousands, but our biological child wouldn't even be considered ours by Irish law, the surrogate by law is the "biological mom" even tho she's probably not even related, and if the surrogate is married to amano then the husband would be put down as the biological father, so us the actual biological parents would have to legally adopt our own flesh and blood, and someone else could basically steal our kid from us by being "more qualified to adopt" our fucking child. It's a lot of money and honestly all options are terrible. I don't want pregnancy, I don't want weight gain, I just want my own baby (I would prefer my own flesh and blood which I know is selfish). Why hasn't the world developed the test tube style babies like in Superman's home planet? I would love that honestly. Sounds selfish, but I'm hearing more and more moms coming out on reddit talking about how pregnancy was torture for them and they couldn't wait for it to be over, my own mom had morning sickness for all 9 months she was pregnant with my brother, I don't think she gained all that much weight caus of it but she was also very weak and could barely work the whole time. I hate hearing the ladies that say "pregnancy is so wonderful is just a blessing and I wish I could be pregnant again", cause one you must've had the easiest pregnancy ever to think that, and two they're usually the parents that also have an angel that's hitting milestones ahead of time and their child never is bad and sleeps soundly through the night, so they never had it that hard. They're also usually lying to save face or they can afford daycare from the get go so their kid is barely home.

I don't even know if I'll actually have all this shit, I could have a smooth pregnancy and lose all the weight fast without trying, and then have the sweetest baby ever. But even with that, my husband wants the kids to be at the most 3 1/2 years apart, so that doesn't give me very much time to lose the weight or get myself back in order, also means I won't get a break from breastfeeding really. Which I'm terrified of, I want to breastfeed for 6 months, then introduce solids and hopefully within two or three months completely shift out breastmilk, husband thinks that's selfish and probably impossible, he keeps saying "our baby might have a condition that needs years of milk, our baby might not want formula, our baby might refuse to stop breastfeeding" like thanks hun for making me feel even less in control of my autonomy.

I can't be taking off more than the allowed maternity leave, and my breasts have certain shape that doesn't work with pumps or breastfeeding bras, tmi but my n! pple is pretty much underneath my breast so I will have so many issues trying to feed my child. I'm just hoping that my boobs can't produce enough milk, or something, anything really.