#Refurbished Hospital Beds

[imedicalhealthcaresolutions]

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[bullet-prooflove]

Crash!Series - Part Three: Critical

Tagging: @kmc1989 @burningpeachpuppy @acesgunner95 @caffeinatedwoman @unknown6669991 @irishavengersassemble @midnightstarqueen @sportslovers-world @wildcard566 @fanny-123456 @alexlynn16 @district447 @firecountryqueen666 @yousigned-upforthis @coldmidnightlights @totalstitchlover19 @chlo-lo14 @doggirlforever @toheavenwmydrms @missyhoneybee @thatanimalmom @wabi-sabi1090

Crash Series:

Part One: Test Flight - You've always loved flying.

Part Two: Crash Down - Manny is called to the scene when your helicopter crash lands in the lake.

It’s past midnight and Manny is sitting alongside your bed in the hospital, watching the news on his phone while you sleep. They've you sequestered in a private room, away from the chaos of the E.D. The star treatment, you would have said if you were conscious.

You’d come out of surgery a couple of hours ago. You’d been hypothermic when they’d brought you in. It had been touch and go for a while but you’d managed to pull through. They’ve put a couple of pins in your arm, it’s going to leave a gnarly scar he's told.

It’s going to be months before you get back on your feet. Manny’s already spoken to Luke Leone and Vince about taking some time off, you’ll need support after you leave the hospital and he plans to be there for as long as you need him.

When he sees Faye’s face pop up on his screen it sends a flare of rage rioting through him. Luke's already taken him aside whilst you were in surgery to give him the heads up. Nozzle's released a press release citing pilot error. He couldn’t believe it when he’d read the statement on Luke’s tablet. They’d referenced your dishonourable discharge from the Coast Guard, implying it was recklessness that had ended your career.

“Don’t worry.” Luke had reassured him. “We’re taking care of it.”

It isn’t until now that he understands just how Luke intended to do that. The audio from the crash has been leaked, every single person watching the news tomorrow morning will know that it was the engine failure, that Nozzle cut corners during the refurbishment.

In the aftermath he realises he should have picked up that something was wrong when Nozzle had tried to take ownership of the chopper. He’d been climbing into the ambulance alongside you when Faye had appeared on the scene.

Luke and Vince had gone to war with her when she’d tried to intervene, they’d waited with the wreckage until a SAR mechanical team had dredged it from the water before returning it back to the airbase you worked out of.

You grumble in your sleep and Manny’s hand comes to rest on yours again, his thumb soothing over the hollow of your wrist. You start to settle as he uses his fingertips to brush the hair away from your features.

"Don’t worry baby.” He murmurs. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Love Manny? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[kinardsevan]

several sentence monday

i'm still working away on the update on the aneurysm fic, (which is pushing 10k and not finished yet), so I thought I'd throw you a scene that made me giggle:

-

Evan still sleeps more than he’s awake, and Tommy fills the time by reading and working on their wedding registry. It wasn’t even something they really wanted, given that they weren’t twenty-year-olds starting out. They’re both fully grown adults with their own home, and they’ve already made the process of elimination of all the duplicates they had when they decided to live together. 

Still, when Evan’s diagnosis came a few weeks earlier, it was something that Maddie had made clear was one of the points of contention she wanted to put back on the table. And even though neither Evan or Tommy felt like they needed to register for anything, Maddie had argued with them on the subject of ‘let the people who love you do something nice for you’. They’d argued that everything everyone was doing prior to and would be doing post-surgery would be more than enough, but Maddie had insisted anyway. Which is how Tommy finds himself filling an afternoon by googling what to put on a wedding registry. Truth be told, they don't need much of what’s listed, but he ends up finding himself adding things that Evan would like anyway, like cookware that he’s been talking about investing in, and tools for the grill. 

He’s probably three hours into it when it occurs to him that they really haven’t thought about what comes after Evan’s release from the hospital in terms of needs, and then he’s texting Maddie about things he found on Amazon. Most of what he initially finds is a little ridiculous—graphic tees and overly cute cuddle items for the chest—but it’s the other items he finds that actually make sense to him.

Should we buy the seatbelt cover? That seems important.

Three little dots appear on his screen as he stares at it, waits. He knows she’s only working a ten hour shift today, but he’s not sure when she started. He hopes he’s not interrupting calls. 

I’ll order one with the robes. What about the post-surgical shirts?

Not sure about those w/o talking to him. What about the wedges for the bed? Not a bad idea. He needs to be inclined.

Oh! The back scratchers!

Already ordered those. And the reach-and-grabs. He’s gonna hate those. He’s going to fight me to listen as it is. Is it bad that I want to buy the “factory refurbished” shirt?

Is it worse that I want the “one star ‘terrible wouldn’t recommend’” one? 

[sixhours]

bright spots - chapter 7

Series Chapter Index | Read on AO3 | In progress

Rating: Teen Words: 2k Series tags: The Last of Us, The Last of Us (HBO), Joel & Ellie, Joel Miller, Ellie Williams, Marlene, canon divergence, hospital AU, medical stuff, blood, hurt/comfort, angst, canon-typical violence, vomiting, implied rape/sexual assault, I've probably forgotten some so please let me know <3

Joel

A week of tests and blood draws passes, and then they’re escorted to a wing on the next floor up. The door to the suite reads Imaging & Diagnostics and Joel recognizes the tube-shaped contraption in the next room as an MRI machine.

“Whoa…it’s like a fuckin’ spaceship,” Ellie gasps, immediately reaching out to touch the machine, poking her head inside.

Marlene chuckles. “Kind of. It’s going to take pictures of you. Hopefully.”

 Joel narrows his eyes. “Hopefully?”

“Well…you can imagine what it took for us to get this thing working after twenty years of gathering dust…corrosion…and finding someone with the right skills to refurbish it. And it’s hell on the power supply when it’s running.”

“So what, I just…lay down?” Ellie says, hopping up on the narrow bed.

“Yep. We’ll set you up there, and the tech will give you instructions. You’ll be able to hear them through a speaker inside. We’ll be keeping an eye on everything from there,” she says, pointing to the little room with the glass window. “Nothing to be afraid of.”

“Afraid? Why would I be afraid? This is so fuckin’ cool.”

Hours later–when she’s been forced to lay still on the hard bed for what seems like forever, when they have to restart the machine multiple times, when it shorts out something in the power grid and the hospital goes dark while a Firefly runs to the basement to reset the whole system–Ellie is less enamored with the spaceship machine.

They trudge back to their room, Joel’s back protesting the hours spent in the same uncomfortable chair in the observation room, Ellie fidgety and restless from her enforced confinement.

They hadn’t gotten a single usable scan.

“Still wanna save the world?” he asks, tongue in cheek.

She scowls, then shrugs. “Better than the hole.”

“‘The hole?’”

“It was a FEDRA school thing. You get in trouble, you go to the hole.”

He shoots her a look and she sighs.

“They had this room that was basically an old closet, no windows. You had to sleep sitting up. At least in the MRI thing, I can see. And there’s enough room to lie down.”

Solitary confinement for children, Joel thinks, a pit forming in his stomach.

“You get put in there often?”

She side-eyes him and smirks. “What do you think?”

He can’t find it in himself to return her smile.

“Wouldn’t have been so bad but…there was no one to talk to. The guards were like here, they’d get in trouble if they even looked at you. So it was just me and an empty room for days. Went pretty fucking crazy after a while.”

“How long?”

They’re back in their room, and Ellie hops onto her bed, feet dangling off the edge, kicking the sides with the backs of her heels.

She shrugs. “Depends on how pissed off the CO was. My longest stretch was seven days.”

Seven days. Seven days of isolation for a fucking kid. Joel thinks he’s going to be sick.

He clears his throat, tries to lighten his tone. “Well, maybe we can, uh, make it a little easier next time. We’ll bring one of those comics you like and I can read to you while you’re in there.”

She brightens. “Oh? That’d be cool.”

“Sure, kid.”

The next day, when the MRI is working again, Ellie hands him one of the books from the bin at the nurse’s station before they’re escorted upstairs.

“‘Little Women?’ Really?” Joel wrinkles his nose. “Didn’t think this’d be your kinda thing.”

“It’s not, but the comics won’t make sense unless I can see the pictures while you’re reading. And one of the girls in this is kinda cool. For, like, a kid who lived in ancient times.”

“The Civil War wasn’t ‘ancient times.’”

“I guess you’d know,” she sighs. “Having lived through it and all.”

“Jesus. I wasn’t alive durin’ the Civil War, kid.”

She grins, eyes flashing. “Second World War, then?”

He feigns a scowl. “See if I read to you, you little twerp.”

But he does, of course.

Joel reads about the adventures of the March sisters over the tinny speakers. He can see why Ellie identifies with Jo. The machine does its job and time passes. Soon Joel sees the first scans appear on the screens in his peripheral vision–outlines of her head and torso in dark blue marked with large swaths of white.

The tech remains stoic as each layer of the scan is captured. She says nothing, but he doesn’t need to be a doctor to know that what they’re looking at isn’t normal. The sight takes his breath, leaves him trailing off mid-sentence to stare.

Tendrils sprout from a large cluster at the base of Ellie’s neck, winding tangled fingers deep into her brain and down her spine. Little offshoots like the branches of a tree thread their way throughout her body in a fusion of human tissue and fungal growth, until it’s difficult to tease apart where one ends and the other begins.

Until now, he’d thought of her immunity as something intangible, an invisible formula that ran in her blood, but this is something else. He thinks of inoperable brain tumors and cancers, things equated with sickness, with death. But here she is–talking his ear off and kicking his ass at Boggle and careening down the hall in an office chair.

A walking fuckin’ miracle.

Still in the machine, Ellie blinks and fidgets, looking up toward the speakers where his voice should be.

“Hold still,” the tech snaps over the intercom, startling him from his reverie.

“Sorry, kiddo. Uh…where was I…”

Mouth suddenly dry, he clears his throat and starts reading again.

When the scans are done and they’re walking back to their room, she’s talking a mile a minute, probably something about the book, but he’s distracted, unable to get the image of those tendrils out of his mind.

“Joel?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, uh–”

“You’re not listening.”

“Sorry…I’m, uh…just tired.”

“Did they tell you anything? When they were looking at the…y’know. The scans?”

“No.”

“Did you get to see my brain?” she asks.

He swallows hard. “Dunno what I saw, kid.”

He can’t shake the fear that’s taken root in his heart as solidly as the fungus in her brain. She’s precious to him; he knows that now, has known for much longer than he’d willingly admit. But something about seeing the visual proof of her immunity–physical evidence that her life is irreversibly entwined with the fungus that demolished his world–makes him feel like he’s that much closer to losing her.

“What, am I some kinda monster?” she jokes, arching an eyebrow.

“No, Ellie,” he says quickly, seriously, his tone taking some of the levity from her eyes. “You’re not a monster.”

You’re a miracle, he thinks. But in his experience, miracles are too easily taken away.

Ellie

“So if you’re taking my blood all the time…does that make you a vampire?”

Nurse Cooke huffs and doesn’t answer. Apparently, she’s just as enamored with her jokes as Joel was at first.

Ellie will wear her down.

“Nurse Cooke–that’s kinda like two jobs, one name, huh? Maybe you should have been a chef. Then you’d be Chef Cooke–”

The nurse withdraws the needle more roughly than she needs to and Ellie bites her lip to stop from crying out at the sting, hissing a soft fucker under her breath instead. The last thing she needs is Joel getting all pissed off in her defense. Again.

His grumbled Is this really necessary? is already a constant refrain, to the point where Ellie has to cut him off with a glare every time they come at her with another needle. Usually that’s enough to shut him up, but he’s been acting really fucking weird ever since the MRI thing. Sometimes she catches him looking at her with this sad, faraway stare, like she might disappear into thin air. And he’s always asking if she’s feeling okay, which is dumb, because he’s the one who’s still recovering from a concussion.

When the draw is done, Nurse Bitchy McBitchface leaves and Ellie goes to the window, hopping up to the window seat.

They also take biopsies now, tiny cores of her flesh to be studied under microscopes, something about examining the progression of the mycelium scarring under her skin. Her arm looks badass after, covered in black marker, like a tattoo in code.

“Hey Joel, do you think I should get a tattoo?”

She examines the latest biopsy markings. If she squints, she can almost make out a pattern in the marks, like a cool constellation of stars.

“A what?”

“Y’know, a tattoo,” she says. “Ink. Maybe like…a dragon? Ooh! No, a whole solar system all up this arm, and then maybe a–”

“Jesus, kid, you’re fifteen.”

“So?”

“So you’re way too young to be permanently colorin’ all over yourself like that.”

“They’re already sticking me with needles all the time. Can’t be any worse than that.”

His face twists into an expression she can’t place like he’s tasted something bad.

“Do you have any tattoos?” she prompts.

“No.”

“You should get one,” she tries. “I could draw you something really fucking cool, like a heart with thorns and a dagger through it, dripping blood–”

“Not gonna happen,” he says.

“Dude, c’mon! Or you could get, like, a cowboy boot with spurs and a hat and–”

“I ain’t a cowboy.”

She narrows her eyes. “But…you said you were from Texas.”

“Not everyone from Texas is a cowboy, kid. I was born in Austin. That’s a city. Or…was a city, I guess.”

“But you read those dumb westerns! You ride horses and shit.”

He sighs, but he’s smiling a little, the way he does when he’s trying not to laugh. “So do you. That make you a cowgirl?”

“What about a guitar?” she tries. “You like guitars.”

“I ain’t gettin’ a guitar tattooed on my ass.”

“Dude, gross. Why the fuck would you put it on your ass?”

“Well, the only way I’m gettin’ this theoretical tattoo of yours is if it goes where no one's gonna see it.”

“Ugh, you’re a dick, you know that?”

“Yep.”

She turns back to the window, puts her chin on her knees. From this vantage point, all she can see is concrete and overgrowth, the rooftops of the building next door, a portion of the street.

“Joel? Do you miss it?”

“Miss what?”

“Being…out there.”

He snorts. “Don’t miss the starvin’.”

“Well, duh,” she rolls her eyes. “That’s not what I mean.”

He turns, and there’s that stupid look again. Worry etched in every one of his old-man creases. His voice softens.

“What’re you askin’ me, kiddo?”

“Nevermind,” she mutters. “It’s nothing.”

She’s not sure how to say it…that everything has changed.

The outside was hard, but the rules were simple. They had routines and plans and an understanding, and even if the circumstances were unforgiving, they shared a common goal: Stay alive.

Here, Joel is different. He’s still a broody asshole but he…worries more. Not that he didn’t before, but now it’s a different kind of worry. The kind that makes him drawn, darkens his face until she has to tell a shitty pun to bring him out of it. A sad kind of worry that scares her more than she’d like to admit. 

He’s supposed to be the strong one.

But she can’t say any of that, because he’ll take it the wrong way. He’ll tell her they should go back to Jackson. He’s already mapped out their exit and keeps his bag packed. He doesn’t understand.

How can she turn away now?

She sighs and stares out the window. She misses the simplicity of long days where they’d walk until her feet felt like they’d fall off, misses the spray of rainwater on her face and the cozy heat of a campfire. She misses the stars, how every night in the wilderness was spent under a black canopy of pinpricks.

Everything in the hospital is flat, sterile, unchanging.

Safe.

Boring.

Really fucking boring.

[chronicbeans]

Hazbin Hotel Rewrite - Charlie/Rebecca's and Baxter's Rooms

A little explanation of what they're rooms look like and, for Baxter, how his room works.

Charlie/Rebecca's Room: They share a room, which is split right down the middle in design. Rebecca's side is filled with a nice blue, white, and silver color scheme. There's a lot of plushies, a few punk and goth style posters and makeup sets, and a slight icy sheen over the window on her side. The walls on her side of the room is a baby blue. Charlie's is filled with a gold, red, orange and black color scheme. It has a lot of flowers in pots, particularly roses and poppies. She has a few fidget toys, as well, which she keeps next to her flower makeup bag. The walls on her side of the room are pastel yellow, and the windows feel a lot warmer to the touch on her side. The bed is in the middle of the room, with the blanket's colors being split right down the middle between baby blue and pastel yellow. A lot of people they let in say that standing in the middle of the room is most comfortable temperature wise, with Rebecca's side being too cold and Charlie's too hot. They're room is on the top floor.

Baxter's Room: It's in the basement. Charlie didn't know exactly how to handle someone who is radioactive, and out of fear that the radioactive particles would sink into the other floors if he was on a higher floor of the hotel, she decided to refurbish the basement into being his room and lab. He then added a decontamination room in the small hallway between the stairs and his room to make sure any radiation doesn't leave his room by sticking to the hazmat suits. His actual room is constantly dark, besides the radioactive particles glowing. The design fits a deep sea floor aesthetic, with a few lava lamps around the room mimicking bubbles and tall, dying indoor plants mimicking seaweed. By his bed, which is an antique hospital bed so that he can raise the head of it to get out, there's a lot of posters of Marie Curie. There's also a lot of empty space by his bed so he can park his wheelchair, as well as railings lining the walls of his room to help him move around. Because his room is extremely big due to just being the entire basement, half of it is taken up by his lab. In his lab, there's a lot of fish tanks, boxes full of radioactive elements and materials, and his medications.

Side note: Baxter constantly complains about the fact that a lot of the hotel is inaccessible for him, which includes the fact that to leave his room and enter the rest of the hotel, he needs to climb stairs while carrying his wheelchair. The same goes for entering and exiting the hotel itself, since there's no ramp.

[fizzigigsimmer]

Bake Off: A Harringrove Sim Story

Chapter 2

The small coastal town of Copperdale. Early Morning.

Morning News Anchor Nancy Wheeler stands outside the Harringrove Cafe - located in the old refurbished bed & breakfast on Shrike Hill.

Assistant: We're rolling!

Nancy: Hello, I'm Nancy Wheeler and this is 'Good Morning with Nancy'. We've got all of your local news, current events, and hot topics!

Nancy: Today's special topic is near and dear to my heart. Copperdale is known for its scenic beach, quaint railroad town, and most recently for the tragic accident at the local library involving a sink hole...

Nancy: But, it also the home of the Harringrove Cafe: which has boomed since its initial launch and brought many tourists to our shores, eager to try their delicious treats. Today, we'll be meeting the owners and getting a rare peek inside the operations at the cafe - along with some exciting news! In fact, here comes one of them now.

Steve joins Nancy at the door, in swim trunks and nothing else.

Nancy: Cut!

Steve: Hi Nancy. Thanks for coming! Are we -

Nancy: Steve! Did you forget the interview was today?

Steve: What? Of course not. Let's do this! I've been looking forward to it all week. Billy too.

Nancy: Steve, we can't do the interview! You're half naked.

Steve: Oh yeah, I woke up late and had to squeeze in my laps this morning. Didn't have time to change. Billy said it would be fine. Add a little sex appeal.

The door opens behind them.

Nancy: *groaning* This is a morning show Steve, a family friendly hour. We don't need sex appeal.

Billy leans in the door.

Billy: Speak for yourself Wheeler. All those grandmas who watch your show need something to wake them up.

Nancy: *sarcastic* Ha ha! You're not funny Billy.

Billy: You're right. I'm hilarious.

Jonathan: ... So are we shooting today or not?

Steve: Definitely shooting! Just give me a chance to go change.

Steve runs inside to get dressed and Nancy sighs.

Nancy: I should have known something like this would happen. He's always in that silly pool. Why does a bakery need a pool anyway?

Billy: I'd explain fun to you Wheeler, but I'm too busy running a business.

Nancy: This isn't a laughing matter Billy! This event is really important to Steve, but more importantly the town. The library helped so many people and bringing it back will do a lot of good. Don't you care what happens to this town?

Billy glowers. He doesn't appreciate being told off. But thankfully, before he can answer Steve's voice interrupts from inside as he rushes back.

Steve: I'm here! I'm ready! It's okay now.

Billy: Is that my shirt!

It most definitely is Billy's shirt. Nancy peers inside the door to see that Steve has grabbed Billy's old lifeguard top, from when he worked at the community pool. She sighs.

Nancy: Come on Jonathan. Let's get some more shots with me while these two figure themselves out.

Jonathan: Yeah let's get some B-roll. I can piece it together with Steve & Billy later.

The Segment:

Harringrove Cafe. This thriving business sits on a picturesque hill overlooking the beach. Once an abandoned Bed & Breakfast, co-owners Steve Harrington and partner Billy Hargrove have turned this local eyesore into a meca for the taste buds.

There's no end to the creativity of their rotating menu, which offers handcrafted treats and a personal delivery service to local residents along with cheerful hospitality!

But this summer, Billy and Steve are leaving the kitchen to undertake their biggest risk yet: A local backing competition! If you've been up on the hill lately you've probably seen the construction of the big tent.

This summer, Harringrove Cafe invites YOU and the whole family to join them in 'The Harringrove Bakeoff' where three teams will go head to head, in the battle of the baked goods! Proceeds from the ticket sales will go toward the Copperdale Library restoration project.

This competition is a big undertaking for the cafe, but it's certainly not the first of its kind. Billy & Steve are known for their creative collaborations with friends, and local artists in the community - many whose artworks can be found on sale in the cafe shop.

I'm Nancy Wheeler, and this has been Good Morning with Nancy. Join us next time: In the coming weeks I'll be revealing more about the competition, the competitors, and how you can help pick Copperdale's very first Best Amateur Baker!

This broadcast is in thanks to and collaboration with @harringrove-cafe

Community members and visitors may visit the cafe, or reach out to Steve & Billy directly with questions about the competition and upcoming menu changes. They ask that you please hold all questions regarding the strange noises heard coming from the cafe last night for their next Ask Harringrove session.

[gottawhump]

Waking

Eliot

CW/TW: BBU/WRU, post-thump recovery, medical environment.

I’m feeling a bit rusty here. And this is a big flash-forward. Sorry.

Eliot wakes up.

He breathes in, and the clean sharpness of disinfectants assails his nose. He tastes familiar medicine at the back of his throat.

He exhales, and it doesn’t hurt. He feels tight pressure around his ribs, but not the sharp stabbing he’d known since someone’s boots broke them.

A machine beeps near him. A cuff begins squeezing his upper arm, releasing after a minute. He tries to move his hand on the other side, but it’s trapped by an IV.

Hospital. Hospital. The old panic closes his throat, and he can’t breathe. The beeping speeds up.

“Calm down,” an unfamiliar voice says. Cold rushes through his wrist. “This’ll help.”

As the chemical calm takes effect, he dares to open his eyes. It looks like a hospital room, cold and white, the sides of the bed raised and barred to keep him in it. But there are no windows. Is it the Facility? He wants to go home, he doesn’t want to be refurbished.

“Please.” The soundless word catches and rattles on the tube in his throat.

“Hush. Rest, while you can.” It’s the same voice as before, but not one he recognizes. He can’t see their face. He flinches when their hand stroke his hair back, unwanted comfort.

“He’s awake?” He knows that voice. He tries to sit up, to jerk away, to lower the bed sides and run away. His body doesn’t respond. He can’t move.

“Awake, not healed.”

“He doesn’t need to be healed, just alive a while longer.”

Forgive and Forget taglist: @whumpsday @painful-pooch @whumpinggrounds @justplainwhump @bluetheautisticrat @i-eat-worlds @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump

704/Eliot taglist: @kim-poce @fishtale88 @i-eat-worlds @roblingoblin285 @cepheusgalaxy

[empidonax]

I'm trying to get myself used to an earlier schedule so I went out birding for a bit this morning to keep myself awake. Just a local duck pond, but they recently refurbished it to include more natural areas, reed beds, mudflats, etc. and it looks really nice now. It'll look even better when the plants grow in!

I was rewarded with a very unexpected lifer: red-necked phalarope! I didn't even realize it in the field; I've seen red phalaropes before and got them confused, so I thought I'd seen red-necked before. But it was so cute and cool to see in such an urban environment! Great reminder to myself that you never know what you'll see out there.

It was also really amazing to see the semi-ecosystem-restoration at work. There was much more species diversity there than what I've seen in the past. It's still a park mostly built for people, with lots of paths and open grass and picnic tables, but it's much more hospitable to wildlife now as well. It's a good compromise.

Look at how freaking cute the phalarope was you guys 😭

[crochetingcatwriting]

Summary:

Sakura decides to move out her parents house and the best option for a new place turns out to be Sai’s place.

Tags: Romance, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Comedy, Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Eventual Smut, Morally Grey Characters, Blood and Gore, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse

Rating: Explicit

Work in progress (it's almost finished in my hard drive, but I'm letting my beta to do their magic and honestly in the meantime it's still growing a bit :D)

Extract from chapter 1:

Sai’s apartment was very ample and painted of a clean white, however it was more like a big warehouse with a bathroom. The kitchen was a simple long bar with a sink and some shelves set-in on the wall to have some storage, the bathroom door was metal with granulated glass and led to a refurnished bathroom with an old iron bathtub and a white ceramic sink with iron taps. The living room was at the same time the dining room sharing the space with the kitchen, not that Sai had a dining table, guessing by the two tall stools next to the kitchen bar it was obvious the artist ate there when he was home.

    Hidden behind a folding screen made of wood and paper that Sakura was certain that Sai had made and painted himself, there was a double bed cornered on diagonal with the foot side facing the kitchen, to the left entering the aisle door, behind the bathroom.

    The roof was really high, adding more to the impression that the place was some type of warehouse or factory refurbished.

   Almost all of the walls had small windows almost to roof height and the opposite side wall was covered with several paintings, some of them already familiar to her like the one of Team 7, minus Sai and Sasuke, was on their back, looking towards the horizon. On the middle there was another stool and an old black lounge next to several different sized easels with canvas either in blank or half done, beside a small bookshelf full of notebooks and books.

   Things had sped up when she had shown up on Sai’s doorstep, who corrected her about the misunderstanding that the apartment was being rented, even if the ad said so, and that in fact what he wanted was a roommate. Sakura’s suspicion was that it wasn’t an innocent mistake on the ad as Sai tried to excuse (after all she realized now that it was Sai’s handwriting on the sign) but instead a trap for someone despairing like her.

   An unsuccessful one.

    Sai had a bad reputation in Konoha, even after being recognized by his achievements on the Fourth War, even outside shinobi circles he was still considered as a bit eccentric to put it lightly. Sakura suspected that, if someone came asking before her and found Sai, they would have excused themselves and/or run away on the opposite direction depending how well they knew him or polite they were.

    Sakura knew that it was due in part to that lack of people skills outside of missions, which Sai was still working on improving, that he got kicked out of his old house, the one close to the big tree, when he insulted unwillingly the old landlady who already wanted to kick her tenant out in order to gift the house to her grandson as a wedding gift.

    It wasn’t that long since that happened, and with her being busy between all her work in the hospital, missions and her issues at home, and with him on his ANBU missions, Sakura hadn’t had the chance to ask about his new home address.

    She wondered if she had known beforehand whether she would have discarded the idea as she did with Naruto who had offered his home just like Ino when he found out on their letters she wanted to move out but that Sakura rejected for the opposite reasons:

    While with Ino she wouldn’t be far away enough from her parents’ shadow, with Naruto she feared she would become the house mom as soon as he came back, her own methodical and clean way of doing things would clash against the messy ways of the Jinchūriki since she knew he was well beyond any fixing, and that the only way of not going crazy living with him was to take the full brunt of the domestic labor and that wasn’t in her plans with him or no one. Besides she didn’t want to be third wheel for Naruto and Hinata’s blooming relationship when he returned to the village.

    With Sai she wouldn’t have any inconvenience of that type, the artist was almost as clean and organized as her, they would get along perfectly in that regard.

    So Sakura stayed to Sai’s silent joy who had already watched others like Kiba, Shino and some other civilian practically run away when encountering him as he opened the door. That was a hit to his self-esteem but his teammate was making him forget about it quickly.

    If he had known Sakura was looking for a place, Sai would have offered immediately his place. She was someone he trusted completely, besides of being someone clean and punctual, living with her would be a lot easier in comparison to living with a stranger or someone as hyperactive as Naruto.

    Sakura entered the room with a genuine smile and after a short walk sat down in one of the stools at the kitchen bar, taking a bite of the cookies who Sai offered her hospitably with his usual gracefully stiff ways while he explained the terms and conditions like rent, that was ridiculously cheap including gas and water, coexistence (basically share house chores and don’t bring the place down while he was away) and lastly he mentioned he was a couple days away from a mission that would take him at least a week outside the village, asking her for an answer either before or after so he could give her a copy of the key.

    Sakura was aware how usual it was for the ex-ROOT, being in ANBU now, to be away for weeks regularly, which Sakura analyzed would give her some needed alone time, at least for now.

    To her own surprise, Sakura wasn’t against the idea of having her sometimes rude teammate as a roommate, but the not-as-forced-smile of Sai actually made her mind.

    That was the place she was looking for.

   

[nozoroomie]

my ps4 controller has shat the bed. While I don't really play any games on my ps4 anymore, it's still great for watching movies.

But finding a new controller or even a refurbished controller for this thing has been so difficult. I try not to shop on Amazon unless I have to (c'mon, we all know why) but even the small gaming shops in my city don't really have anything.

Maybe it's just cheaper for me to buy a bluray and dvd player??

Anyway, more fun life updates under the cut!

We'll start with my health. It's been a while since I've posted about it. In that post I made in April, I made a joke about "probably have to wait until 200 days of bleeding until I actually see a specialist."

It literally did take that long. I was bleeding from late January (around the 19th-22nd area,I'd have to go check my calendar but im typing this in bed and lazy.) until August 9th. There were two very brief breaks of nothing in April and June, but the grand total of days I bled and bled heavily was roughly 180 days. Crazy right? and I met MANY people with uterus' in this time who have had it worse.

I got to go to a specialist on August 6th and then when they tried to do an examination, they couldn't. There's a number of reasons why what happened happened but to put a long story short- my hormones are insane and likely not distributed evenly around my junk, so insertion causes immense pain and they just couldn't do a thing without putting me under anesthesia. Which they did! on August 9th I had a procedure to give me a biopsy, a polypectomy, and then there was one other thing they did -I believe it may have been called a DNC but honestly, they told me everything that happened while I was still under the affects of anesthetic so I have no idea the exact term or how the process goes- but since August 9th, I haven't had heavy bleeding. There's been some minute bleeding that all my recovery paperwork says its normal, but god. The menstrual cramps. The polyps forming and bursting. It's been painful.

The exact diagnosis of my biopsy and examination happens next Wednesday, and there's a few ways it could go over all, but the thing is I KNOW they're going to push the IUD or some other form of Birth control on me because that's what they did the first time I met and had a consultation with them. and with the way my uterus is and the horror stories I've heard about the pain of them and how they're -at most- 5 years of period relief... I'm saying nope. If I have to do birth control temporarily, I'm going towards the arm implant if it's going to be as effective as an IUD. If not? I'm going down the partial hysterectomy route and I'll try to get referred to an OBGYN that will respect that. But things I also had to do for my health while I was just slowly bleeding out and becoming more anemic by the day:

two iron infusions. On the second one they had to send me to the hospital to get an IV put in and then I had to travel across the city to the clinic I got my iron infusions don't at. Most stressful 2 days I've had to be quite honest. They poked me with different needles 11 times until someone finally got the iv in properly.

One of my ribs shifted just slightly out of place and I had to go to a chiropractor. Now I take stretching way more seriously. Folks. if you're not active, still make sure you stretch and you're hydrated. It's fucked.

Chronic fatigue and uterus cramping. if I wasn't at work or doing necessary chores (litter box, walking the dog, showering, laundry, etc.) I was laying down and doing my best not to take too any pain killers.

24/7 bloating. full disclosure- I 'm Fat. before all of this, I was comfortably between 175 to 185 pounds (and I didn't mind! I was born fat, I've grown up fat, it's not something I've ever cared about.) Carry most of it in my stomach and chest. At 5"1 ish, it makes me look pretty chunky. Imagine blowing up around 20 pounds more. at my worst, I was around 215 pounds. My body HURT. I felt like I was a bubble that could pop. I bought work shorts that fit me perfectly at around 185 pounds and the bloating got so bad, the button for the shorts just popped off while I was at work. It was so embarrassing.

Anddd that's the mega long health update.Right now I'm still recovering from my procedure. I have about a week and a half until I get have a bubble bath again and I do see the OBGYN on Sept 4th to find out just what my options are. Some other misc things to tie the post up into a more positive update:

Blue's reactivity is getting better! We haven't met many new dogs but he's getting so much better at ignoring every dog we pass. We do still have to cross the street, but he's more inclined to look to me than to stare down the other dog so that's always great.

Menma turned 12 and she's still on that vet prescribed diet. It's great for her kidneys but bad for hairballs. We're working on trying to get her interested in some hairball relief stuff but the old lady is picky with her food and sometimes she'll touch it, most days she'll turn her nose to it. And work is. Work. But you know how that all is. Capitalism is a shitty thing and I hope we see something better sooner rather than later.

That's about it! Thanks for reading if you got this far. It's storming and I gotta get Blue out to at least try to pee but knowing him, he's gunna protest so we'll see how it works out.

[iiinsendo]

✎_ ⓪①④ ∕ ⓪②① 𝗛𝝤𝗠𝗘 Typeface Used - SF Pro - 二〇二二年五月三十日 排病房的日子過了將近半年， 住院的好處是可以方便復健， 經過各種考量決定把爸爸帶回家照顧， 和妹妹一起歷經了一番忙碌整理爸爸的房間 - 拆掉原本的通鋪、放入病床、看護床和重新粉刷， 對全家人來說是個全新的開始， 爸爸終於可以回家了。 - ［陪病日記］ 將過去一年陪病的心路歷程視覺化成一系列的海報。 - 30th.May.2022 It has been half a year since the queuing life from hospital to hospital. Staying in the hospital has its benefits such as greater accessibility to rehab and medical facilities. However, after many discussions, we decided to take Dad home. My sister and I were busy making changes to Dad’s bedroom in order to meet Dad’s conditions. We tore down the old room bed, refurbished the wall, and put in a hospital bed and medical care stuff. Finally, Dad could go home after a long time. A new beginning started.

- - -

[polypomefiore]

I’m really sorry to hear that your grandma is in the hospital. I hope both you, your grandma and her cats are doing okay. Hopefully this Jackpel omegaverse mpreg au (I really need to come up with a proper name for this) idea will cheer you up a bit.

On the night after Epel had given birth, Jack was staying the night in Epel’s furnished room in the Ramshackle dorm (I really liked that suggestion you mentioned because it’s very cute) and woke up in the middle of the night around two or three am. Immediately Jack notices that Epel is not in bed next to him, but before he starts to freak out in worry, Jack hears soft humming and looks over to see Epel standing in front of their pup’s crib (they both decided to have the pup stay in the same room as them so Yuu and Grim wouldn’t have to go through the trouble of refurbishing another room), illuminated by the soft light of the full moon pouring through the window.

In his arms, Epel gently cradles the pup while humming softly and rocking them. Jack slowly gets up from the bed and quietly walks over to Epel, wrapping his arms around his waist from behind. Epel asks if he had woken up Jack by accident, but he reassures him that he didn’t before asking why Epel was up so late. With a sleepy smile, Epel explains that he heard the pup wake up a few minutes earlier and he went to check on them. Jack nods in understanding as the two gazed upon their little pup, who soon dozed back to sleep. 

After tucking the pup into the crib, Epel and Jack settle back into bed, but Jack notices the faint smell of worry in Epel’s pheromones and asks what’s wrong. Sighing, Epel explains that he was still very unsure about being a teen mother. He was still so very young and the bullying that he had received during his pregnancy made him incredibly doubtful of himself. In response, Jack gently embraces his mate and reassures him that they can get through this together, no matter what. Plus, they have plenty of support from their classmates, friends, and families, who are willing to help the two at every step of the way. 

Feeling his mate’s warm embrace and hearing his reassuring words, Epel feels a little more hopeful about the future, as he knew in his heart that Jack was right. With a sense of security, Epel snuggles up closer to Jack and the two young unexpected parents fall back asleep, nervous but still optimistic about their newly changed lives and the future ahead of them and their precious little pup.

sobs tysm anon, this did cheer me up ;w; it’s so sweet

epel pls rest..u just had a bebe..aaa but i can definitely see him being affected by all the bullying

he’d look so pretty in moonlight too sobs jack is so lucky

[jackiedaytona]

the night he came home

here's a little michael myers-ish au for steve and henry. happy halloween!

Hawkins Halloween Massacre: Five Year Retrospective

It was a normal Halloween night in the small Indiana town called Hawkins. Children flooding the streets, desperate for tricks and treats; adults handing out candy, happy to make this a special day for their community; and a half-dozen people were already dead. Spread all across this idyllic place were the bodies of six teenagers. Bludgeoned to death by what investigators would soon come to find out was a baseball bat with nails hammered into. A bat belonging to S…[read more]

$80,000. 4bd 3ba.

Beautiful modern home freshly refurbished! Completely updated. New appliances, counters, and flooring throughout the house! Spacious rooms and backyard with pool for those hot summer days and a beautiful view of the woods. Situated in a wonderful small town with a strong sense of community, this is the perfect place to raise a family!

[Transcript]

Something’s happening… Transfer gone wrong… All units to Smith’s Grove….

It was nearing three in the morning, according to the clock on the stove. Witching hour. On Halloween. It was almost comical.

A smile tugged on his lips, the one he hadn’t worn in five years. Sure, he smiled at the hospital, sometimes amused, sometimes forced, sometimes friendly. But, never like this. Never this smirk. The one that for a handful of people in Hawkins was the last thing they ever saw.

God. Five years.

That’s all it had taken.

Five years and his parents had managed to offload his childhood home—after mangling it beyond recognition, of course. He practically hadn’t recognized it when he’d stepped inside. Everything had changed. Different carpet, new fridge, fresh paint slapped on the walls. It actually looked pretty nice, good décor choices, but that wasn’t the point.

He hadn’t actually had many good memories of this place, sure, but it was the principle of the thing. This was the place he’d hammered the nails into his bat, the place he’d gone once his spree was over, and some family thought they could just move right in? Absolutely no respect. For him. For what he’d done.

Maybe they were into it. Giving tours or writing a book or something. A whole little morbid family, exploiting what he’d done for their own gain. That idea made his hand tighten around his bat. He didn’t like it. He didn’t like it when people thought they could get inside his head. Like the fucking doctors, or the journalists that would come sniffing around every once in a while, or even his fellow patients at Smith’s Grove. They’d be having fun, chitchatting or playing checkers or something, and then suddenly he could feel their fingers prodding at his skull, trying to find a crack, to figure him out. Try to understand how he could’ve done that.

It reminded him of before. Before his Halloween fun. When he was just Steve Harrington, preppy boy, popular because no one had any idea of what was actually lurking underneath the polos and hair.

None of this mattered. This family, innocent or shady, shouldn’t have bought his house. Now they had to face the consequences. And Steve knew just where to start.

The door didn’t creak when he pushed it open, like it used to. And he should be grateful for that, it meant it was easier to creep inside, but it still made his fist tighten.

The room was completely unrecognizable: light blue walls, magazines and cassettes scattered about, a bed across from the door. It was all wrong, and it was all that lump under the covers fault.

Who’s been sleeping in my bed?

Whoever it was was curled completely under his white comforter. Even though he couldn’t see any part of them, he could tell from the size of their outline that it wasn’t a child. What a baby, with their head covered. Did this house give them bad dreams? Did the fact that a murderer slept in this room give them the creeps? Good. Because he was about to make all of their nightmares come true.

Steve lifted the bat onto his shoulder, poised for what came next, and his mind jumped back in time. Exactly five years ago, he was about to make a decision. About to pound nails into the bat. About to start his rampage. It was a little early to begin this Halloween, but what a way to start.

Steve reached out, one hand grasping the edge of the covers, and the other gripped his bat; more than ready for the first strike.

Up went the comforter and down went—

Steve’s hand slacked and the bat would’ve tumbled to the floor if it wasn’t for the fact it was resting on his shoulder. It was good it didn’t. If it had, it might’ve woken him up.

The man in the bed.

Steve’s age, give or take. But Steve would probably still refer to himself as a boy. Maybe a force of habit or a reflection of his own maturity rather than anything to do with age. But that word didn’t even cross his mind when he looked at down at who was fast asleep in this bed.

He was still curled up, maybe even more so since his blanket was pulled away and he’d been exposed to the cool air. There were plenty of pillows on the bed, but his head was resting on his own arms; his cheek squished against his bare bicep. He looked peaceful, but he must’ve been tossing and turning at some point, given how his tank top pulled up and down and showed of miles and miles of smooth, dark skin.

What a man.

Steve dragged a finger across his abdomen, felt just as perfect as it looked, and he couldn’t contain his unbearably pleased smile when he shivered.

He got down on his knees, the wood creaking underneath him, and leaned his own cheek against the mattress. He wasn’t sure what his eyes would look like if he was awake, but more than likely they’d be filled with fear. Anyone would be if there was someone they didn’t recognize in their room, and even if he did realize who he was, he’d probably be more scared. And Steve loved fear. It was the only thing he’d ever had loved. Seeing how it twisted and turned inside of the people at the end of his bat, the last thing they’d ever feel in this world. And he’d love this man’s fear. He knew it. He’d eat it up.

But he could think of some other emotions he’d like to see on him more.

Wasn’t that a surprise?

He couldn’t remember ever feeling that way, especially after five years ago. He’d pretended, especially with the girls he’d take out, but he’d never wanted from them what he wanted from this man. Not so deeply, so wholly.

The man stirred and Steve froze, wondering if this was the moment he opened his eyes and discovered he wasn’t alone, but then he rolled over and let out a small sigh. It was a sweet sound, and Steve felt his lips tug into a smile; he was a goner and he knew it.

Finally, he stood back up. He had some work to do, he knew he couldn’t linger here forever, even if he wanted to. But that was okay. This wasn’t the last time he’d see his new darling.

He’d come pay him another visit before Halloween was over.

[reallyexists]

Another beautiful day in the dwarven fortress Bowloar, another goblin attack repelled. These guys tangle with a kobold thief and some weapon traps before limping away, less one hand between them.

Total fortress kill count is two giants, a kobold and one goblin(’s left hand). Yessir, things are looking up!

 Holy fucking shit.

I mentioned this little lady in the tags of that first giant post, and here she is again. There’s a downside to popularity, to be sure. She’s doubled in age since her last visit.

The werelizard child Usu Ramulabba infiltrated the fortress and just transformed outside our shiny refurbished temple. Our full ten-unit squad of mixed dwarves and humans is training in the barracks downstairs, directly next to the indicated stairwell. One of our glassmakers is a lot closer.

The glassmaker gets attacked and seems to be holding his own. It probably helps that the horrible night-beast attacking him is two years old.

A nearby tanner briefly joins the fray.

A dog valiantly attacks the werelizard child, and gets mauled in return.

The militia have made contact.

The dog dies on top of the temple altar, as the militia dogpiles the werelizard child and start to do some real damage.

The werelizard child is struck down by our courageous militia, its body and severed leg added to the invader corpse stockpile. Most civilians are horrified at the corpse of a human child, but the effect is somewhat ruined by the buggy sprite. I think the leg turned back correctly, though.

Now, the real fun begins. Who got bitten?

After combing the combat report, I find that two out of the three injured dwarves received bites that broke the skin. Nobody was killed in the attack, but these citizens are now incurably cursed, and will turn into werelizards at the next full moon. Presumably non-child ones. As much as it pains me, they’ll have to be exiled as soon as their wounds are treated.

The third patient, a wrestler, was being viciously grappled by the werelizard child right as it died. That must’ve been very humiliating for her, bested at her own game like that. But it’s over now, and she can get some much-deserved rest.

Son of a fucking bitch, man.

So I missed a bite in the combat report. It could happen to anyone.

The chief medical dwarf is in the tavern for this friendly fracas, and has the closest possible call. Literally the only dwarf in the fort with any medical skills.

At least our poor cursed wrestler goes down easily. Transforming in the middle of a packed tavern will do that. I comb over this combat report fucking meticulously. There’s no way I’m gonna miss another one of these fuckers. Sorry, tragically accursed fuckers. Everyone who got bitten gets the boot before they even make it to a hospital bed.

The tomb is filling up pretty quickly, although we’re reticent to bury all those dead visitors for whatever reason. The dead dwarf, Îton, is buried across from the dog that the child lizard killed. Looking in the coffin confirms that reverted werelizards just look like that.

We went ahead and made a statue of Îton, as well. Unfortunately the most notable things they did in life were moving to Bowloar last year and becoming a werelizard, and we are not commemorating that. Now hopefully we can get back to converting that outdoor pasture into a giant pit/drowning trap.

Fucking of course. In my defense, there were about 15 human poets in that room, and the combat report made zero distinction between them. Werelizard #3 doesn’t do anything but unsuccessfully attempt to shove, and is quickly beaten to death by a bunch of civilians including the high priest and a child.

What the hell is up with all our infectees having beast forms so much weaker than that human two-year-old? I guess that’s not really something to complain about.

Just a single casualty this time, who I’ve made damn sure didn’t get cursed. We’ll know how sure “damn sure” is in a few weeks.

Oh, we’re big enough for nobles now. Suddenly the werebeast problem doesn’t seem so bad.

[godesssiri]

You want to know how underfunded aged care in New Zealand is?

We hired a new Registered Nurse in December. We had to offer her a very high pay rate because there are not enough nurses available, we advertised for 6 weeks and had 2 applicants. We are funded by the government to pay our staff at certain rates - they dictate how much we get paid for each resident we care for and what percentage of that goes towards staffing. We had to offer ten bucks over what we are actually funded for and have taken a huge hit just to be able to have a nurse which we have to have in order to legally run our business, don't get me wrong she's worth it but we have been robbing Peter to pay Paul ever since we hired her. We've just been offered a new government contract to 'to bring our nurse's pay-rate up to what they would get paid in a public hospital'. We will now be funded enough to be able to pay her 97 cents less than what we were already paying her. I mean it is $9.03 per hour more in our pockets, so I'll be able to keep paying her what she is worth AND have less creditors breathing down my neck, but we're still not actually being funded as much as it costs to provide the level of care their contracts stipulate that we are required to provide.

The big places can eat those costs. They make money because the government makes a deal with them; you can have this many apartments and villas and charge whatever you want for them BUT you have to have this many rest home, hospital, and dementia care beds and you can't charge each resident more than X for them. It doesn't matter if the funding doesn't cover the full amount it costs to provide those services because they're making money hand over fist on the apartments and villas which cost them next to nothing to run.

The smaller places (like us) don't have that option for making extra money to pay the bills. We get that X amount per resident and just have to find a way to make it work. But the government doesn't want to get rid of us because there are residents that the big places won't take. The ones who can't afford to pay for 'optional' extras, the ones who are problem children and would lower the tone of the place, the ones with 'complicated' families. If the the big places don't want to take a particular person they can say "Oh no we don't have any beds available right now. Those 10 empty rooms right there? Um. They're being refurbished! We can't put anyone in them.". The smaller places have to fill our beds just to pay the bills, so we'll take on the harder cases. The government is playing a constant game of 'we don't want to loose you but we're only going to pay you juuuuust enough to stay in business.'

[statusquoergo]

“Come on.”

“Uh?”

Diane looks up as Naomi stands and holds out her hand as if this isn't a ridiculously careless thing she's asking her to do, as if neither of them has the good sense to mention that neither one of them has any idea what they're getting themselves into. As if neither of them might be walking straight into a trap of their own making, or nothing much will change at all and they'll forget about each other in a month, or a few days. As if it's a risk worth taking to find out which.

As if there's anything else to do today.

“I'm not going to the hospital.”

“I know.” Naomi reaches a little closer. “I have a first aid kit at home.”

Enough to get them through, that's all. Enough for now.

“You know how to wrap it?” Diane asks as she takes Naomi's hand to pull herself up, as though the answer might change her mind somehow. Naomi smiles a little, as though she knows it just as well that it won't.

“Yeah.” She sets Diane's hand down on her shoulder. “It's not far, come on. I'll carry you down the stairs.”

“You'll drop me.”

“I will not.” Naomi urges her forward, along the concrete path out of the park. “I mean I'm just offering, I don't have to.”

It's a nice gesture, though, isn't it? It was a nice thought.

They walk slowly down the street, stepping more or less in sync past the general store with the baking supplies just past the doorway, turning at the corner to walk toward the coin laundry that's open even at three in the morning and also on holidays. A hand-drawn poster in the window of the discount shoe store across the street loudly advertises VACUUMS REFURBISHED while a Times New Roman printout on the telephone cubicle in the middle of the block offers “suitable compensation” in exchange for willing test subjects, No Questions Please; a few steps farther along stands an apartment building that somehow looks like it's missing a couple of stories, and Diane shifts her weight to her good leg as Naomi steps away to fumble with the lock on the front door.

“It's the door on the left,” Naomi says, the door sticking only slightly as she shoves it open. “When you get to the basement.”

She opens the first door on the right, a stairwell that only leads down.

“Upstairs is that door over there, but I don't know any of the neighbors, so. I'm not gonna introduce you to anyone.”

That's fine. Diane doesn't want to know any of them, either.

Naomi walks down the stairs first and doesn't try to carry her.

“Bathroom's at the end of the hall,” she says. “The taps aren't broken, the water's just cold when it's cold outside and warm when it isn't, but if you let it run for a little while, it'll...fix itself. And make sure you don't touch the water heater, it's metal and it gets really hot sometimes.”

Diane clutches the wooden banister nailed to the wall as she limps her way down and wonders how much of all this she's supposed to remember. All of it, probably. It isn't very complicated.

Naomi unlocks the door on the left and holds it open.

“You can sit on the bed.”

It's good of her to offer. It isn't much of a bed, really, more of a mattress pushed into the corner, but that isn't exactly a surprise, and it's good of her to offer all the same.

“Thanks,” Diane says, a little too late to seem quite natural. Naomi hums a disinterested acknowledgment and doesn't seem to mind.

“Take off your shoes.”

Diane promptly unties her sneakers, placing them on the floor beside the bed as Naomi kneels in front of her with a roll of ACE bandage in her hand and her eyes focused on Diane's ankle like she's the only attending physician in the entire complex who doesn't have better things to do with her time than tend to something as trivial as all this. Diane should count herself lucky the timing worked out the way that it did.

Lucky, was it? It's about time.

The single bulb in the overhead light flickers a little as if a public execution has just disrupted the power grid, or someone's turned on too many air conditioners at once and blown a fuse a few floors up.

“Don't worry about it,” Naomi says. Diane doesn't bother to assure her that she wasn't.