#i hate! doctors and medical settings

[dragons-and-yellow-roses]

At the doctor! Torn between hating doctors and really loving the ones that I'm seeing today.

[blujayonthewing]

I wish I had any way of knowing whether people have gotten Weirder™ about my name in recent years or if this has been happening behind the scenes the entire time

I've been going by Jay since I was 11. At the time nobody objected to or questioned this, at least not to me; I found out many years later that Jay is supposedly a "boy's name," but nobody ever said 'you can't use that as a nickname, it's a boy's name' and it went completely uncontested by anyone when I switched. Lots of kids announced some manner of name change at the start of a new school year in middle school; it was all normal and fine. My mom and, you know, grandmas and other relatives kept calling me Jessica, which was also fine! I didn't make a big family announcement or correct any relatives on this, I just wanted to differentiate myself from the half dozen other Jessicas in school.

For twenty years!! This has gone on being perfectly normal! My Real Name™ is an increasingly obscure bit of trivia I get to spring on friends who didn't realize I had one, which is always funny (my brother in law didn't believe me and demanded to see my driver's license). My mom and grandmas have largely still called me Jess, and that's also fine! It's nice, even! There's a particular intimacy there of having a name only my mother uses-- but, crucially, I have never asked her not to, or said that I don't like it. And as FAR AS I KNOW, this has all been true and fine for TWENTY YEARS.

My own feelings about it have never changed, and feel, to me, very straightforward: if I tell you that my name is Jay, and you decide that no it isn't, that is a problem. That's the rule. That's literally it. I had a high school teacher who asked on the syllabus for us to write down if we went by something other than our full name, who was nonetheless UNIQUE among all of my teachers from 6th grade onward in always and only ever calling me Jess, even though I signed all my work Jay, all the other teachers called me Jay, he literally asked whether anyone wanted to be called something else and I answered Jay, and I had him for two semesters. I met a work friend of Justin's once who asked upon introduction whether Jay was short for something, and when I told him it was short for Jessica he took it upon himself to call me Jess instead. This isn't me having a problem with any particular iteration of my name, this is just asshole behavior! I told you what my name was and you said 'no it isn't'. The problem here does not seem complex to me?

But within the last [hand wiggle] handful of years I feel like it keeps getting weirder? Apparently my dad and grandma argued about it at my wedding rehearsal-- she, dramatically, insisting 'I don't care, her name is Jessica, I'm going to call her that ;n;' and my dad angrily defensive that no it isn't, I go by Jay, that should be respected. And I'm sitting here listening to my dad relay this in utter bewilderment like. Well dad I love the energy but I have never been bothered at all if grandma calls me Jessica. I have never even once asked her not to or complained to anyone that she does. But also this is the grandma who HAS called me Jay more often than not?? My mom's mom never picked it up, but I was astonished to hear my dad's mom was acting like this was some New Dramatic Change that she Hated and not a thing she's literally already been doing for, again, twenty entire years. Why are you suddenly making it weird! Last weekend Justin's stepmom mentioned seeing my mom at the hospital where mom works, and how she said something like 'yes I'm Jessica's mom-- wait, no, Jay, she hates it when I do that' and I just?? I literally don't, the only problem now is that people who know me won't know who the fuck you're talking about

all of this and I'm just. I am literally just sitting here. why are we inventing problems out of this two decades later. what is going on

[mars-ipan]

it’s really weird being trans and going to the doctor when you don’t plan on transitioning medically

[opens-up-4-nobody]

OCD is pretty common among autistic people, and many of us who dont have full-on OCD may experience some things that can be kinda similar to some aspects of it. I'm on the spectrum myself and i also have this issue of basically getting stuck on some thoughts. It sucks, sometimes it's something that makes me angry but doesnt actually matter that much in the grand acheme of things and i just end up in a bad mood over something stupid and cant stop thinking abt it for a few days even though there are no new thoughts about it, i just keep going through old ones again and again and again. I dont know if there's a term for it, but hey, at least I'm not the only one, and neither are you. Generally i just look for distractions and wait until the thoughts get less obsessive and annoying

That makes sense, thanks!

[cielosuerte]

i think the craziest thing about the clinical trial ive been in all summer is its at my primary care where i get my hrt and stuff through & in the binder theyre maintaining for me is a big sticky note that says HE/HIM in all caps AND they asked my preferred name on day 1

and not once the whole time have i been gendered or named correctly even once. by the nicest people in the world. genuinely i think its because the main nurse is one million years old and like. not really entirely all there . imo . but still like thats crazy idc if i get deadnamed or misgendered or whatev but like at least dont ask me if ur not gonna care LOL

[lucianinsanity]

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[nonbinary-witch-sam]

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[reasoningdaily]

My former U.S. Track and Field teammate Tori Bowie, who was found dead in her home in Florida on May 2, of complications related to childbirth at 8 months pregnant, was a beautiful runner. She was effortless. At the Rio Olympics, I ran the second leg of the 4 x 100 relay. Tori was the anchor. When she got the baton, I remember thinking, “it’s over.” She just accelerated. When she crossed the finish line, I couldn’t wait to run over to her to celebrate. It was her first, and only, Olympic gold medal.

She also picked up a silver (in the 100-m) and bronze (200-m) in Brazil. The next year, at the 2017 World Championships in London, Tori won the 100-m title, earning the title of “world’s fastest woman.” Tori started out as a long jumper. So seeing her thrive as a sprinter was a huge deal. She was just such a bright light, and people were getting to see that.

Tori grew up in Mississippi and had this huge Southern accent. She didn’t take herself too seriously. You felt this sense of ease when you were around her. I last saw her in early 2021, in San Diego, where she was training. She gave me the biggest hug; something about her spirit was just very, very sweet. I felt her sweetness come over me that day.

Tori was 32 when she died. According to the autopsy, possible complications contributing to Bowie’s death included respiratory distress and eclampsia—seizures brought on by preeclampsia, a high blood pressure disorder that can occur during pregnancy. I developed preeclampsia during my pregnancy with my daughter Camryn, who was born in November 2018. The doctors sent me to the hospital, where I would deliver Camryn during an emergency C-section, at 32 weeks. I was unsure if I was going to make it. If I was ever going to hold my precious daughter.

Like so many Black women, I was unaware of the risks I faced while pregnant. According to the CDC, in 2021 the maternal mortality rate for Black women was 2.6 times the rate for white women. About five days before I gave birth to Camryn, I was having Thanksgiving dinner with my family. I mentioned that my feet were swollen. As we went around the table, the women shared their experiences during pregnancy. My cousin said she also had swollen feet. My mom didn’t. Not once did someone say, ‘oh, well, that’s one of the indicators of preeclampsia.’ None of us knew. When I became pregnant, my doctor didn’t sit me down and tell me, ‘these are things that you should look for in your pregnancy, because you are at a greater risk to experience these complications.’

That needs to change, now, especially in light of Tori’s tragic passing. Awareness is huge. Serena Williams had near-death complications during her pregnancy. Beyoncé developed preeclampsia. I hate that it takes Tori’s situation to put this back on the map and to get people to pay attention to it. But oftentimes, we need that wake-up call.

The medical community must do its part. There are so many stories of women dying who haven’t been heard. Doctors really need to hear the pain of Black women.

Luckily, there’s hope on several fronts. Congress has introduced the Momnibus Act, a package of 13 bills crafted to eliminate racial disparities in maternal health and improve outcomes across the board. California passed Momnibus legislation back in 2021. These laws make critical investments in areas like housing, nutrition, and transportation for underserved communities. Further, several pharmaceutical companies are making advances on early detection and treatment of preeclampsia.

Three gold medalists from that 4 x 100 relay team in Rio set out to become mothers. All three of us—all Black women—had serious complications. Tianna Madison has shared that she went into labor at 26 weeks and entered the hospital “with my medical advance directive AND my will.” Tori passed away. We’re dealing with a Black Maternal Health crisis. Here you have three Olympic champions, and we’re still at risk.

I would love to have another child. That’s something that I know for sure. But will I be here to raise that child? That’s a very real concern. And that’s a terrifying thing. This is America, in 2023, and Black women are dying while giving birth. It’s absurd.

I’m hopeful that things can get better. I’m hopeful that Tori, who stood on the podium at Rio, gold around her neck and sweetness in her soul, won’t die in vain.

—as told to Sean Gregory

[beloveds-embrace]

(poly 141 x sick!reader)

The sound of rain pattered against the windows, soft and soothing, but it wasn’t enough to drown out the ache in your chest. The medication was doing its best, but there was only so much it could do when your body seemed determined to work against you.

You coughed softly into your sleeve, hating the weak tremor that followed. The plush comforter was tucked up to your chin, but warmth still felt just out of reach. Your parents had hired the team months ago after receiving one too many threats, and while you had initially bristled at the idea of four men shadowing your every step, you’d quickly grown accustomed to their presence.

It was hard not to.

Captain Price had a steady, grounding aura that made you feel safer just by being near him. Ghost was quieter, more intense, but he’d surprised you with unexpected softness when he thought no one was looking. Soap’s humor had carved through your anxieties more times than you could count, and Gaz- Gaz was the one who always made sure you ate, drank water, and had everything you needed before you even realized you needed it.

They made you feel protected.

But tonight, even their presence couldn’t completely chase away the unease creeping up your spine.

“Not sleeping, love?”

Price’s voice startled you, and you turned toward the door to see him leaning against the frame, arms crossed but eyes soft. He stepped inside, his boots surprisingly quiet on the polished floor, and came to kneel beside your bed.

“Sorry,” you murmured, feeling guilt curl in your chest. “Didn’t mean to keep you up.”

He huffed a quiet laugh, brushing his knuckles against your forehead to check for fever. “You know we don’t sleep unless you do.”

Before you could reply, a soft knock came at the door, and Soap poked his head in, carrying a cup of tea that was no doubt brewed exactly the way you liked it.

“You’re awake,” he said with a grin, stepping inside and offering you the mug. “Figured you might need this.”

You took it gratefully, inhaling the scent of chamomile and honey. “You don’t have to keep fussing over me,” you said, though the words lacked any real bite.

Gaz wandered in next before they could reply to you, holding the blanket you liked most. “Yeah, we do,” he countered easily. “Doctor’s orders, remember?”

Ghost was the last to arrive, silent as always, but he lingered closest to the door like a sentinel. Even with his mask that once scared you, you could see the way his eyes softened when they landed on you.

The four of them surrounded you, and despite the lingering ache in your bones, you felt safe.

You set the mug down once it was half-empty, already feeling your eyelids grow heavier. Price pulled the blanket up higher, tucking it around you like he had so many times before.

“Close your eyes.” He murmured.

“I don’t want to-”

“You’re safe,” Ghost said quietly, his voice a low rumble that you felt more than heard. “We’ll be here.”

It was hard to fight the pull of sleep when all four of them were so close, their combined presence lulling you into something warm and soft and safe. You let your eyes drift shut, your breathing slowing as the tea worked its magic.

They stayed until they were sure you were asleep.

The first noise was subtle.

Ghost’s head snapped up, and Price immediately rose from his spot beside the bed. Soap and Gaz exchanged a glance, already moving toward the door without a word.

It wasn’t the first time someone had tried to get inside. And it wouldn’t be the last.

Price leaned down, pressing a hand against your shoulder when you stirred faintly. “Stay asleep, love.” He whispered before following the others out.

The house was dark, but that didn’t slow them down. Ghost moved like a shadow, his knife already drawn as he signaled to Soap. They caught the first man before he even had the chance to react.

Gaz was quieter, slipping down the hall and cutting off the second intruder’s escape route. The scuffle was quick, brutal, and over in seconds.

Price handled the last one himself. The man barely had time to raise his weapon before Price’s fist collided with his jaw, sending him sprawling to the floor.

“Clear.” Ghost murmured, wiping his knife clean on the intruder’s jacket.

Soap crouched down, checking for identification, and then sighing when he found it. “Same group as last time.”

Price cursed under his breath, already reaching for his phone to call the cleanup team and your parents.

“They won’t make it upstairs.” Gaz said, voice steady despite the adrenaline still thrumming through his veins.

“They never will.” Ghost added, tone final.

They worked quickly, dragging the bodies out the back while Soap wiped down any lingering traces of blood. By the time they returned to your room, the house was silent again.

You woke to find the bed empty and the dim glow of the hallway light bleeding under the door.

Pushing back the covers, you slipped out of bed and padded toward the stairs. You weren’t sure what you expected to find- maybe one of them sitting at the kitchen table or keeping watch by the windows- but instead, you were met with Price coming up the steps.

“Hey,” you said softly, rubbing your eyes.

He froze for a split second before schooling his features into something softer, too fast for your mind or eyes to catch. “What are you doing out of bed, love? You need your rest.”

“Couldn’t sleep, John.” You admitted, hugging your arms around yourself. A tremor goes through you, the warmth from your bed and blankets ebbing away slowly.

Gaz appeared behind him, stepping around to stand in front of you. “You’re supposed to be resting, dovie. Come on.” He repeated, gently taking your hand and guiding you back toward the bedroom.

“Why were you all up?” you asked, glancing between them with a concerned. “It’s too late for all of you, no? I know you work in shifts but today wasn’t like that…”

Soap appeared next, a towel slung over his shoulder. “Routine check,” he said smoothly, face softening when he looked at you. “Jus’ making sure everything’s locked up. Yer so sweet, hen, but we know how ta do our jobs, dinna worry yer pretty head.”

“Again?”

“Can’t be too careful,” Price said, his hand resting lightly on your back as they guided you back to bed.

Ghost slipped back into the room last, silent as ever, though his eyes softened the moment they landed on you. He didn’t speak right away, just took a long, careful look as if reassuring himself that you were still there- still safe. Finally, he stepped closer, his voice low and steady as he said, “Back under the covers, love.”

You didn’t fight him. You never did. Not with them.

The bed was warm, the blankets heavier now as Gaz tugged them up higher, making sure you were fully tucked in. Soap lingered by the nightstand, placing the freshly cleaned mug of tea from earlier far away enough even if you moved in your sleep, it wouldn’t fall off.

“Try again,” Price murmured, lowering himself to sit beside you. His calloused fingers brushed your hair back, slow and gentle, lingering for just a moment longer than necessary. “You’ll feel better in the morning.”

You blinked up at him, tired but trusting. You still didn’t know when exactly it had happened- when you’d stopped flinching at the closeness, stopped second-guessing the comfort they so freely gave. But you’d never regretted letting them in.

Not when it felt like this.

“We’re right here.” Price added, his voice a quiet promise, and you felt the words settle deep, anchoring you.

Soap crouched at the side of the bed, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating off of him. “Sweet dreams, bonnie.” He said with a grin, though his voice was soft enough to soothe the lingering tension in your chest.

Gaz gave your shoulder a reassuring squeeze, his thumb brushing lightly over the blanket. “We’ve got you.”

Ghost stayed by the door, his sharp gaze fixed on the windows before flickering back to you. He didn’t move until your breathing evened out, waiting for the rise and fall of your chest to settle into something steady. Only then did he step out, closing the door with deliberate care.

But even once the door was shut, he lingered in the hall, his fingers resting on the handle as if to reassure himself that he could open it in an instant if you needed him. He waited, just to be sure, before finally moving away.

“She’s sleeping,” he murmured once he joined the others downstairs. His voice was quieter than usual. “Checked her breathing- still steady.”

“She needs rest,” Gaz said, though the tension in his shoulders didn’t ease. “Nights like these don’t help.”

“They won’t happen again.” Ghost said, firm and low

Soap exhaled sharply, rubbing at his jaw with the rag he’d been using to wipe his hands clean. “She disnnae need ta know.” he murmured, the words heavier than the rest.

“No,” Ghost agreed, his voice low but certain. “All she should have to worry about is resting.”

Gaz leaned against the wall, his arms crossed but his eyes lingering on the stairs. “She’s safe,” softly, he spoke. “That’s all that matters.”

And they all nodded in quiet agreement.

Ghost checked the locks one last time, Price double-checked the security feeds, and Soap peered through the curtains before returning to his spot near the stairwell. Gaz made another sweep of the house, moving silently through the dark before settling in by the living room window.

The rain picked up outside, heavier now, but inside the house, the warmth lingered. It was safe. Quiet. What you needed, and what your parents had hired them to ensure for you.

And upstairs, you slept soundly- soft breaths filling the room, wrapped in blankets that smelled faintly of fresh laundry and tea, surrounded by the presence of men who would tear apart anyone who dared to disturb you.

Sheltered in their arms, you never even stirred.

[pomefioredove]

nightmares

summary: some chars I think would take care of a reader who has nightmares type of post: headcanons characters: riddle, leona, vil, lilia, silver, malleus additional info: reader is yuu, reader is gender neutral, this is self indulgent lol, platonic or romantic, not proofread, maybe a little ooc for a few ones

𝐑𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞 𝐑𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬

he initially assumes you're just staying up to slack off

you are friends with Ace and Deuce, after all

it takes a good scolding from him before you sheepishly admit that you've been having nightmares and thus losing sleep

now, Riddle comes from a family of doctors. he's no psychiatrist, but surely he can find a way to help you sleep despite it, right?

he tries everything- chamomile tea, weighted blankets, he even turned a blind eye when Ace and Deuce "borrow" a sleeping potion from the lab

nothing works

of course, this drives him mad. it seems like such a simple problem, and yet your body resists everything

your grades are suffering, and even worse, you seem like a walking corpse

he takes it upon himself to find a solution no matter what

and, of course, you have nothing to lose, so you indulge him

nothing medical or magical helps

eventually, he picks up a big psychology book and gets to work on the last thing he can think of

suddenly you're having tea and "talk time" with him twice a week at 4 PM sharp

turns out he kinda likes playing therapist

and if you're late to an appointment, it's off with your head

now you're starting to regret being his guinea pig, as thankful as you are

𝐋𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐚 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐫

you can't what?

sleep?

you can't sleep?

he laughs right to your face, much to your annoyance

who can't sleep? it's easy!

you begrudgingly explain your nightmare problem and he finally shuts up (for once)

after a long silence, he grunts something about learning from the master

big surprise, all of his "master lessons" just mean he gets to use you as a body pillow while you watch

very helpful.

eventually, as much as you hate to admit it, it starts to help

having something soft and warm protectively wrapped around you is as comfortable as it gets

you start managing to sleep through the day undisturbed

then nights

Leona boasts to everyone about fixing their beloved prefect's problem, but even after you're well rested, he's still dragging you back to his favorite nap spots

turns out he doesn't mind the company so much, either

𝐕𝐢𝐥 𝐒𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐞𝐧𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐭

"those eyebags are just dreadful, prefect,"

always perceptive and eternally critical

(AKA he's worried)

he knows right off the bat that something's up, but he doesn't press for answers until you come to him yourself

as tempted as he is to step in, he doesn't want to pressure you to share something you don't want to

he accepts your pleas for help (he's worried) simply because he doesn't want your performance to suffer (he's soooo worried)

he starts out through traditional means- teas, oils, setting your routine to perfection- and eventually starts brewing potions for you

only one per week, he doesn't want you to become reliant

and the side effects can be... a little disruptive

one morning you spontaneously collapse in his arms on the way to your first class

he has to drag you back to Ramshackle to rest, despite your insistence

eventually, he eases you into talking about the dreams

he's there to comfort you about them, someone to lean on (though just for you)

𝐒𝐢𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫

I mean... it's Silver

poor guy probably stumbled into one of your terrifying nightmares by accident

after that he started trying to subtly guide your dreams back to normal

when he gets to, of course

you're not even aware of it in your waking life, and he has no intentions of making his good deed known

it does give him the tiniest sense of accomplishment, though

𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐮𝐬 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐚

similarly to Silver, he's got a thing with sleep

his beloved prefect isn't sleeping well because of nightmares? he wants to help!

(please let him help)

he definitely won't let you refuse out of humility or embarrassment

he'll get you to rest and make sure all of your dreams are pleasant at no cost!

(AKA at the low, low cost of getting to see you so cute in your sleep. you're like a cat to him)

he will never not be fascinated by you

he's so pleased about being your unconscious protector; it makes him feel so wanted

his cute little child of man!

𝐋𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐚 𝐕𝐚𝐧𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐞

Lilia is no stranger to bad dreams

he's lived a long time; he's seen some things

every once in a while he, too, wakes up covered in sweat and tears

he can't help but feel a sense of longing when you describe your situation

you poor little thing!

right away he offers to keep watch over you, as if guarding you from an unseen enemy force

he's up most of the time, anyway

watching you is no problem!

you think that sounds reasonable enough

by night two you wake up in the early morning with his arms around your waist and his face buried in the crook of your neck

little bastard is definitely stealing your body heat

you don't say anything, though- you haven't had a nightmare since

(and neither has he)

[moody-alcoholic]

On a Wing and a Prayer

Part 3 - The First 24 Hours

This 'short' dribble is getting out of control. Also reader is a medic now... I have a thing for medical dramas.. CW: PTSD, mental health, panic attacks, little bit of comfort.

Previous parts - masterlist - next

You don’t want to stay in the med-bay. You want to get out of the sterile room to somewhere you feel comfortable. Which is hard to find while you’re still stuck on a base. You go to your room trying to ignore and avoid as many people as you can. 

You catch people whispering out the corner of your eyes, there’s probably not been anything this interesting happening in months. It’s not everyday special forces turn on one of their own, it’s not everyday they torture one of their own. 

You make it back to your room. It’s just the way you left it. Now it feels empty. 

There would be times when you would come back from a long day of training to find Simon laid on your bed with a cigarette between his lips, or Johnny sitting crossed legged with a book ready to talk your ear off about his day. 

That’s never going to happen again, you never want them in your space again. When you make it over to the bed you see a letter with your name on it. You recognise the handwriting it’s John’s. You don’t want to open it, your eyes go to the trash bin in the corner of your room. That's the only place it belongs. 

Your curiosity gets the better of you though. 

You sit down picking it up, your hands shaking, you’re holding your breath as you open it. You don’t even make it past the first line of the word vomit apology before you don’t want to read it any more. There is no use in them trying to reconcile with you. You fold it closed. Simon’s lighter is still there on the crate you turned into a bedside table. You pick it up, it makes you mad. 

You hate them, you hate what they put you through. You thought they loved you. You thought they would be on your side believing everything you said. Instead they hurt you, over and over for days. You found out from Kyle it had been 4 days. It felt longer. 

You bring the lighter up to the letter and set it on fire. You hold it in your hand watching as the flames disintegrate it into nothing. You drop it on the floor when it's about to reach your fingers and stamp it out. The knock at your door makes you jump. Your heart is pounding in your chest. 

“It’s me.” Kyle calls. You walk over opening it. He smiles at you but you don’t smile back. 

“He’s awake. He’s asking for you.” Kyle says. You let out a sigh of relief. He made it, thank god he made it. You follow Kyle in silence back to the med-bay. You walk past the room you slept in last night. Well slept wasn’t really the right word. Everytime you close your eyes, you're back in that room, with the snakes and the water. Two hours you think you go in total, spent the rest of the night having panic attacks until a nurse found you sobbing in a corner. 

The doctor wants you to speak to a psychiatrist. ‘Yeah? So I can be discharged? I want to work.’ That was met with sighs and a prescription for sleeping pills. Kyle stops just outside Johnny’s room. He turns to you and sighs.

“John and Simon are already here.” He says, it makes your stomach twist. You haven’t seen them since you left the room. You don’t want to see them, but you want to see Johnny. 

“It’s okay.” You lie. Kyle sighs again, you can tell by the expression on his face he’s sorry. 

“They don’t want to tell Johnny about what happened. They’re worried it will upset him. He’s only just woke up, the doctors want to give him a few days. Make sure he’s stable.”  

“Is that the doctor's decision on John’s?” You snap. You’re mad, you don’t want to lie to Johnny. Kyle doesn’t answer, instead he presses his lips together running his hand over his head. You sigh looking into the room, you can see John and Simon stood by the bed blocking your view of Johnny. 

It doesn’t matter who said it, they're right. Johnny needs rest, he needs to recover, he’s been in a coma for almost a week any stress could be dangerous. 

“I won’t say anything.” You say letting out a breath. Kyle smiles and reaches forward to grab your hand. You move it away so he can’t crossing your arms instead. You have to calm down or it’s going to be harder than it already is. 

Kyle walks in the room and you follow after. You try not to look at them but you can’t help it. Luckily Johnny pulls your attention away.

“Where have you been hiding lass? I thought you'd never leave my side!” He calls as you make it round to the other side of the bed and hug him. He groans in pain as he leans forward. You hope he can’t feel how hard your heart is beating. 

 “We were worried, for a while it looked like you weren't going to make it.” Kyle says as you break away from the hug. 

“Pff, not when I have the best medic in the world looking after me.” He says winking at you and grabbing your hand. You squeeze it tight and force a smile at him. It feels unnatural, it feels wrong, everything about this feels wrong. 

“What happened?” He asks suddenly, his eyes creasing together, his face going dark. You’re holding your breath, it feels like everyone in the room is holding their breath. He holds your hand up. You still have the hospital tag on. Shit. Panic rises in you. You don’t know what to do. You open your mouth to speak but words don’t come out.

“She hit her head.” Kyle says. You let out a sigh of relief as his hand finds the small of your back. 

“They wanted to keep me in for observation.” You follow up hoping he can’t hear the shaking in your voice. You look up at John and Simon, the colour drained from their faces. Simon clears his throat and Johnny turns to look at him. It gives you a second to squeeze your eyes shut and wish you were anywhere else. 

“You been pushing her too hard again?” Johnny asks Simon tutting. 

“Only what she can handle.” Simon says, it sounds cold in your ears. You feel sick bile rises in your stomach. You need to leave, your hand is sweaty, you pull it away from Johnny. You’re glad Kyle’s hand is on your back because without it you think you might pass out. 

“I have to go. Got this new rota that's kicking my ass.” You say trying to keep your voice level. It sounds so unnatural. You swallow trying to get the lump forming in your throat to go away but it wont. “I’ll come see you later. I promise.” You back up from the bed as Johnny looks confused. 

You can’t be here. You almost want to sprint out the room but you keep your calm walking out normally. When you leave and close the door behind you, that's when you run. 

______

You’re standing outside the washroom with a towel and a toothbrush in your hand. You want to take a shower scrub the layer of grease that's formed on your skin. You tried, you tried to take a shower in the hospital, the water brings flashbacks. Great, now you’re afraid of water. 

You have to get it together, if you can’t you’ll be sent home on leave, or worse discharged. You want to work, you enjoy work. Maybe not the people you work with but you’ve already thought about a transfer. You doubt John will have any issues with that, and if he does well there are always people above him. 

“Hey.” Kyle calls making you jump. He frowns coming towards you. “Didn’t see you at dinner, is everything okay?” It looks like he already regrets that question, no nothing is okay. Everything sucks and all you want to do is take a shower. 

“I want a shower.” You say looking back at the door. 

“Is someone in there? I can kick them out.” he offers, you sigh, shaking your head. He seems to get it and you hear him sigh. He steps up next to you putting his hand on your back. 

“I can help,” he says. You shake your head forcing yourself to be strong as your lip quivers. You have to try and do this alone. Your knuckles turn white as you grip your toothbrush as hard as you can. 

“I’ll watch the door, make sure no one comes in.” He says rubbing your back. You smile at him and nod, stepping into the room before you change your mind completely. 

The place smells damp as the automatic lights flicker on. It’s only been you and the rest of 141 using this space so their stuff is everywhere. You start to realise things about the room you didn’t even see before. It’s windowless, there’s a loud hum of vents. The place smells of aftershave and soap. 

You walk over to one of the showers, hanging your towel over the half wall. You’re stripping your clothes before you can stop yourself. This feels like a routine, showering in the freezing base showers only this time the thought of turning the showers on makes you feel sick.

You keep telling yourself you can do this, repeating the mantra in your head if only to keep your mind occupied. You’ve been taught how to deal with PTSD and triggers, what's the best way to help, or stave them away. You don’t have PTSD, you remind yourself. You’re just going through a rough patch.

As soon as you can get away from 141 and have a good night's sleep you’ll feel better. And now Johnny’s awake, that's one less thing to worry about. You reach over and twist the hot tap on. The water hits your arm and you pull it back like you’ve just been burned. 

You can do this. It’s just a shower. Kyle’s watching the door. No one can hurt you. 

You suck in a deep breath and stick your leg in, the water is surprisingly hot for once. That’s good, it will make things easier. One step at a time. Your hand and arm go in next, your breathing picks up, goosebumps rise on the parts of your body still exposed to the air. Now you’re shaking. 

You let out a long breath forcing yourself to move into the water. You turn letting it run down your back in an attempt to get the shaking to stop. It doesn’t work. Now you’re frozen you can’t move. You try to focus on getting your breathing to steady but it’s not working. You have nothing to distract yourself with. 

You force your eyes closed, that just makes things worse. Fear rises in you, you don’t know why but your head tips back. As soon as the water hits your face it’s like you don’t know where you are anymore. You’re not in the showers, you're back in the room. The water drowns out any sound in your ears. You don’t know what’s happening anymore.

The next thing you know you’re on the floor, your head throbs. There’s commotion, a noise you don’t recognise and footsteps. You open your eyes with a sob as tears escape. You turn, you must have slipped, Kyle is turning the shower off. He picks up your towel and comes over to you, bending down and wrapping it around you. He doesn’t say anything, just kneels down on the wet floor pulling you into his arms. 

You sob in his arms as he holds you tight. You get it all out, all the tears you’ve been avoiding over the last 24 hours. Maybe this is what you needed: a good cry. 

Kyle doesn’t let you go. Eventually he starts rocking you, stroking your hair, kissing the top of your head. He tells you everything will be okay. You want to believe him, you so badly want to leave this room and everything will be magically better. 

It won’t be though, and it won’t be for a very long time. 

As you calm down and your body stops shaking, anger burns in you. This should never have happened to you. Especially not by the people you love. You hate them, you never want to see them again. Kyle notices your change in body language and silently helps you to your feet. 

He walks you across to your room, closing the door behind him. 

“Want me to stay?” he asks as he helps you over to your bed. You nod looking up at him, he strokes your cheek smiling. “I’ll be back in a second.” He says going to leave the room. 

You don’t want to be alone, not right now. Maybe with Kyle here you can get some sleep. Or maybe it will be worse, right now you’ll try anything. You look over at Simon's lighter still sitting on the crate. You pick it up, turning it over in your hand before dropping it in the trash.

You never want to see them again.

next

I could have kept going. I don't know when to stop... This is what happens when my main fic is on hold. I need a million projects or I get bored XD Banners by firefly-graphics

[ellecdc]

Could we possibly…maybe…please get a glimpse of when the team finds out the sexy long legged muscular thighs Remus and team doctor!reader are seeing each other 👀👀

YES - UH HUH - YUP - NO PROBLEM (ty ty ty ty ty)

hockey player!Remus Lupin x team medic!reader who are found out [2.6k words]

part 1 | part two | part 3

CW: fem!reader, blood, injury, talk of needles and stitches but the process is not described, hockey, proof of authors completely biased love of Swedes

Away games made you itchy.

The locker rooms were different, their medical rooms were different, and you spent what was likely an absurd amount of time before each game in the dark room (that each locker room had for concussion protocol) just familiarizing yourself with the set up. 

Hockey players were known for being superstitious, and they accused you of being much the same. But the difference between yourself and the team was that the medic hoped to the hockey gods each game that they wouldn’t be needed, while ensuring they were adequately prepared should they be needed.

And when your team wasn’t on home ice, you never felt adequately prepared. 

“I like watching your pre-game rituals.” Fenwick commented casually from his seat on the medical table - part of his pre-game ritual ever since you helped him stretch out his hamstrings before one game and he scored a hat-trick. Now he haunted your exam room like his career depended on it, much to your chagrin. 

“I don’t have a pre-game ritual, Fenny.” You grumbled as you reorganized the supply cabinet below the sink. “I have a job.” 

Fenwick made a non-committal sound as he continued taping up his stick - meticulously - when the door to the dark room opened.

“Doc, I was wond- are you really still on this, Fenz?” James paused as he furrowed his brows at his teammate. 

Fenwick let out a tired sigh as he gave you an exasperated look that read ‘can you believe this guy?’ before looking back over at James. “Cap, what you do to get ready for a game is your business, what doc and I do to get ready for a game is ours.” 

“For the last time, Fenwick, I don’t have a pre-game ritual.” You hissed before taking a calming breath. “What do you need, Captain?”

James had the grace to turn a little bashful. “Erm, well…there’s no more tape.”

You felt your shoulders sag as you gave him a disbelieving look. “I’ve asked you guys not to go through the medical tape; you need to ask the equipment managers to pack some if you need your own.” You repeated, again.

James grimaced as he went to respond, but was saved from needing to when a taller figure approached him from behind. 

“Coach asked the arena management for more, we’re all good.” Remus offered quickly, flashing you an apologetic smile over James’ shoulder as he clapped his captain on the back.

“Oh Loops, you beautiful, beautiful man.” James cheered before roughly pulling Remus’ head down to plant a smacking kiss to his cheek. “I love the Swedes!” He declared as he waltzed back into the locker room, earning him a cheer of approval from Isak Grönvall. 

“Five minutes, Fen.” Remus continued, causing Benjy to hop down from the table with an excited whoop. 

“Sorry doc, duty calls! Good luck out there!”

You let out a tired sigh as you fought the urge to shout “I don’t need luck - I’m doing my fucking job” after him. 

“You okay, doc?” Remus asked gently then, and you felt treacherous at how much of your ire simply seeped out of you as you saw his honeyed gaze and soft smile being directed at you.

“I hate away games.” You pouted rather petulantly, causing Remus to let out a laugh. 

“Home games are better.” He offered carefully as he moved further into the room to stand in front of you. “But away games have hotel rooms.”

You hummed in agreement as the two of you shared a look, but the door to the room opened again, causing Remus to take a significant step away from you. 

“Doc!” Sirius called breathlessly. “There’s no tape!”

“Loops found tape!” You heard someone call from further in the locker room, causing Sirius to let out a sigh of relief. 

“I fucking love the Swedes!” 

“It’s like they think I spoke some ancient Swedish proverb and a viking hand delivered medical tape to me personally.” Remus murmured quietly as the two of you watched Sirius disappear back into the locker room before you heard coach Moody shout for everyone to listen up. 

“Duty calls.” Remus offered with an almost disappointed smile at having to leave your company. 

“Good luck out there.” You parroted Fenwick’s earlier sentiments.

Remus’ disappointed smile grew more sincere; softer around the edges. “You too, Doc.” 

The Lions were up 4-1, and the Raven’s were not happy about it. It was turning into a rough game, and you had held towels up to more players' faces (threatening them with a weeks worth of bench time if they were hiding more injuries from you) than you could count, when the crowd went wild. 

Dearborn all but shoved your arm away from him in favour of standing against the boards to watch the action, and you couldn’t find it in you to be all that perturbed when you stepped up onto the bench to get a better view of the ice too, watching Remus’ line - the marauders, the team had taken to calling them - fly up towards the opposing team's side of the ice. 

James was the kind of guy to skate right through people versus around them, shouldering and checking people out of his way, while Sirius Padfoot Black seemed to swirl and dance his way across the ice like this was simply a well-rehearsed ballroom dance he could perform in his sleep. 

And for what Remus lacked in brute force or dancing grace like that of his linemates, he made up for tenfold in speed. He beat both James and Sirius to the otherside of the ice, slowing ever so slightly to allow Sirius to push the puck over the blue line before joining it on the home teams side and stationing himself near the side of the net as James forced his way to the goalies crease, and Sirius played keep away from the Raven’s with his defenseman, waiting for the perfect opening. 

The perfect opening came in the form of both of Ravenclaw’s defensemen fussing over James for blocking their goalie as said goalie craned his neck in an attempt to see over the clump of bodies in front of him, leaving Remus wide open. 

The puck bounced from Sirius, to Grönvall, who shot it to his fellow defensemen, who passed it back to Sirius who faked lining up for a slapshot before passing it to Remus who quickly tipped it in to the top shelf of the Raven’s net, causing the red light to flash and the goal horn to blare. 

In Remus’ focus on putting the puck in the net, he missed the Ravenclaw defensemen who had handed off James’ assault to his linemate in favour of directing his ire at Remus; checking him hard when Remus hadn’t even seen him, sending him face first into another Ravenclaw player who lifted his own arms, causing Remus’ face to make contact with the players stick before going down hard. 

You watched as Remus tried to pick himself back up again before his limbs simply sprawled out, flattening back down on the ice. Every player from both teams crowded around the net and nearly directly on top of Remus as they paired off in a brawl. 

“He’s still down.” You said aloud as if the coaches didn’t know, as if they couldn’t see. “He’s not getting up.”

The entire bench was standing and leaning against the boards as if just itching to join the chaos out on the ice; all four referees blowing their whistles and trying to pry players off of each other before turning around to pry two more apart.

James was still spitting words at the Ravenclaw captain when you made it down to the boards yourself. 

“Captain!” You tried, feeling your throat constrict when he didn’t seem to hear you. “JAMES!”

James paused where he was bending down to retrieve his helmet he’d lost in the fighting to look at you, seeming to recognize the panic in your face as he abandoned the rest of his equipment in favour of skating towards you. 

“He’s down; he’s still down.” You said, though it sounded more like a beg.

“Okay doc, okay.” He agreed breathlessly, offering you his elbow as you stepped out onto the ice, sneakers sliding as he helped you all but hobble across the ice to where Sirius was bent over Remus - seemingly talking to him, thank god - also sans helmet and a bloody lip. 

“James…” You whined after the third time your feet threatened to come out from underneath you, clearly attempting to move faster than James was willing to skate with you before he wrapped his arm around your waist and simply hiked you up underneath his arm like a fucking football, skating you the rest of the way to Sirius and Remus. 

“Hey, there’s our guardian angel.” Sirius offered with a wink as James gently placed you onto the ice, you forgoing all grace and falling to your knees and all but crawling over to Remus.

“Lupin you son of a bitch.” You hissed instead of crying, bending in an attempt to look at his face where he was positioned on all fours. “What the fuck was that about?”

Remus let out a breathy chuckle as droplets of blood landed below him, contrasting starkly against the pristine white snowed up ice. “I don’t think they liked that I scored.”

Something tight unclenched in your stomach leaving you feeling hollow and a little nauseous as you let out a slightly hysterical laugh at Remus’ joke.

“No, no. I don’t think they did. What hurts?”

Remus shook his head minutely. “Just my face. The wind knocked out of me when I landed and then there was fighting.” He explained. “I thought it best to just stay down.” 

“I agree.” You said as you held a towel to Remus’ cheek. “Just your face?”

“Only where the stick hit me.”

“Your head?”

“Is fine.”

“I’ll decide that, yeah?”

Remus sat back on his heels as the crowd slowly started clapping. James pulled you over towards himself, picking you back up to skate over to the bench as Sirius helped support Remus back over and the two of you disappeared through the tunnel towards the dark room.

“I’m fine, doc.” He argued as you pointed at the exam table.

“Protocol.” You responded simply as you closed the door behind you, your eyes struggling to adapt to the low light as you dug through your medical supplies. 

Syringe, two needles, local anesthetic, sutures and suture needle. 

You washed your hand thoroughly as Remus held the towel to his face, donning a pair of surgical gloves before bringing your supplies over to him. 

“Quick flash.” You warned before shining a light in his eyes; you were relieved by the results.

“Told you I’m fine.” He tried to tease as you clicked your flashlight back off and pulled the supplies you had placed on a rolling table over to you. 

“You’re bleeding through the towel, Remus. You’re not fine.” You bit back; words and tone harsh but hands painfully gentle as you pulled said towel away from his face to assess the injury.

The cut was small, but clearly deep; directly under his right eye high upon his cheekbone. 

The two of you were silent as you worked; you disinfected the wound and cleaned up the blood from his face, numbing the area before tying four quick stitches, taping over the injury more as a means of protecting it when you knew Remus would insist on going back out onto the ice again.

You hadn’t even realized his hands were on you until his thumbs started moving. You were stationed between his legs which were hanging off of the exam table, his hands had landed on the back of your thighs at some point during your work, and the pads of his thumbs began drawing soft circles when your hands started to shake, only after you placed the tape over his stitches.

“I’m okay.” He whispered again; his face so close to yours that you could feel the breath of his words fan across your face.

“Okay.” You responded, voice tight with emotions as your eyes started to swim with tears.

“Baby.” He cooed pathetically as he tried to pull you closer to him by your thighs, though between the exam table and all of his equipment, there was really no way to get any closer than you already were.

“I’m sorry.” You whimpered as you pressed the backs of your gloved fists to your eyes, humiliated at the onslaught of emotions now that the adrenaline had worn off. 

“My poor girl.” He breathed out, pressing delicate kisses to your forehead. “I didn’t mean to worry you.” 

“I don’t know why I’m acting like this.” You admitted; trying to laugh at yourself, though it came out more like a sob. “This is my job.” 

Remus hummed as he kept his lips pressed to your head, giving you a moment to catch your breath before he continued. “Yes, but that’s why you don’t do my ongoing care now, right? Because…it’s different.” 

“Yeah.” You whispered, still not trusting your voice to not crack under the pressure in your throat.

“You’re okay, babylove.” He murmured.

You sucked in a few deep breaths, willing yourself to toughen up and get back out there when the door to the dark room suddenly flung open.

“Doc, is Loops oka- oh my fucking god.” 

You fought back a groan as Remus simply breathed out a chuckle from his nose and Fenwick continued his sputtering from the door.

“Oh my god!” He shrilled. 

“Christ Fenz; will you keep it down? Lupin could be concussed.” You heard the coach bark. 

“It’s worse!”

Remus let out an offended scoff as you turned to look at him. “Worse?” 

“They- they’re, fucking- they’re….they’re fucking!!” Benjy ended up sputtering very ineloquently. 

You heard a flurry of movement before Sirius and James’ torsos appeared in the doorway; the two boys nearly wrestled each other out of the way in order to get a view of what the hell Benjy was talking about before they both started smiling, though in very different manners.

“Now…I don’t know how you do it, Fenny, but that is not fucking.” Sirius taunted salaciously. 

“I fucking knew it! You owe me ten bucks, Krum!” James called as he walked out of the dark room, followed by Krum grumbling something in Russian. 

“Who bet on finding out after the All-Stars?” You heard Dearborn ask. “Because you bastards owe fifteen.” 

That was followed by more grumbling.

“Doc!” You heard Grönvall call breathlessly, turning to find him standing in the doorway with a wide smile on his face. “You do love the Swedes!”

Remus let out a loud laugh as his arms wormed their way around your waist. “No, she loves this Swede.”

Grönvall laughed and nodded his head as if to say ‘fair enough’. “Well gratulerar! You’ve made me a rich man!” 

You shook your head as you shared a look with Remus before hearing a scandalized “OH MY GOD” from the locker room. 

“Doc’s the one with the wicked mouth!” James shrieked, and you felt all of the blood in your body migrate to your face as you buried your face in Remus’ chest - very uncomfy due to his pads. 

“Tell us something we didn’t know, Cap.” Sirius laughed. “She hands our asses to us every day with nothing but that sharp tongue.” 

“But-”

“Okay, going into the third period-” Coach started, and the topic of you and Remus (and your wicked mouth) was put to rest… for now.

[eternally-racing]

keep her safe | lando norris

pairing: dad! lando x wife! reader (+ their teenage daughter!)

genre: fluff & angst-ish

warnings: racing crash, reader/lando's kid is in the hospital, some swearing

wc: 1.4k

summary: Nothing prepares you for the feeling of watching your daughter's first crash in formula 3.

note: this fic can be read as part of the racer girl series or as a stand alone as well!

----

Lando always hated pulling the “I’m a celebrity” card when you two were out in public. He's never wanted the special treatment that companies wanted to give him before, but the minute he sees his daughter crash in her first Formula 3 race, he’s trying to pull out every trump card he has to get his way into the medical tent. 

“That’s my fucking daughter in there, you can’t keep her from me! This is absolutely insane! I’m Lando fucking Norris, don’t you know who I am?”  Lando is yelling and yelling and you hold him back by the wrist because otherwise you think he might actually charge at the door to try and get through it. 

He more than anyone here knows what a bad crash looks like, and from the minute he saw your daughter, Piper, go into the barriers he knew that it was a rough one. There’s cameras swarming around you both but he doesn’t care (It’s not like he was a PR team’s dream when he was a driver himself). That’s his little girl in there and she’s hurt. There’s now a full commotion in front of the medical area and Lando admits defeat as he sinks back into the wall behind him and crumbles to the floor with you following suit. 

“She’s afraid of needles, Y/N.” Lando says no louder than a whisper towards the shut doors “Who’s gonna tell them that she’s afraid of needles if I’m not there?”

You know that if she’s in a state where they’re not letting you see her and she’s being transferred to the hospital that she likely has already gotten a lot of needles and wasn’t conscious enough to feel them, but you keep that information to yourself once you see the worried look on Lando’s face. This exact moment is something you two had worried about ever since your little girl first stepped in a kart, and somehow it was worse than you had ever imagined it would be.

By the time you and Lando make it to the hospital it feels like hours have gone by, even though in reality it hadn’t been more than a handful of minutes. Lando’s never been more grateful for his success when a nurse recognizes him and immediately guides you both in the direction of Piper’s room. He’s not sure he would’ve been able to make it through a conversation right now anyways. 

The scene inside is every parent’s worst nightmare. There are lines going in and out of Piper’s arms and bags of fluid are hung next to her bed; there are too many machines beeping and showing numbers and graphs that you just can’t understand. You feel Lando’s knees buckle beside yours and you keep an arm around his waist to keep him steady. You both need each other right now, there’s no doubt about that. 

When Piper cries out for her daddy from the hospital bed it brings a fresh set of tears to your eyes. You can’t remember the last time Piper actually called Lando daddy, it had been “dad” for the most part or “Mr.Norris” if she felt like being cheeky, but hearing those words from her mouth brought you right back to when she was a little girl, your little girl. 

Lando rushes to her side and has both hands caressing her face. He knows that she’s been checked over by the doctors, but he needs to see for himself that she’s really okay. He presses his forehead against hers as they cry together. You’ll never fully understand what Piper’s just been through, but the man standing in front of her does all too well. 

You hang back a bit to talk to the doctors, who try to give you a comprehensive update on her status, but as soon as you hear the words “she’s fine and on track to make a complete recovery” you zone out as you finally let out the breath that it feels like you’ve been holding this whole time. You’re about to go rejoin your family once you hear the next words out of your daughter’s mouth.

“I’m sorry dad, I know this meant a lot to you.” Piper sighs as she pulls the hospital sheets up to her chin.  “Did I at least make it around a lap? Am I the youngest ever female formula 3 driver to complete a lap in a grand prix?” 

This is when Lando has to face the music - he got so excited about his daughter dreaming of Formula 1 that he may have pushed her a little too far if his daughter is more worried about beating records than she is about her own health. Lando tries to calm his own breathing as he grabs both of Piper’s hands to lay on his own to get her full attention. He wants to make sure she fully understands what he’s about to say.

“You’re always going to be my little girl, Pipes. Racing or not, I am always proud of you. I never want you to feel like you have to impress me.” Lando doesn’t even answer Piper’s question about the record because frankly he has no idea. He’s never once cared about awards and prizes and all of the fancy shit. All he’s ever wanted is for her to be happy, and he tells her exactly that. 

Piper stops crying long before Lando does, and you’re amazed by the maturity your daughter shows as she starts wiping the tears from your husband’s eyes. You all just need a little family cuddle so you do exactly that, and take a moment to appreciate the lives that the three of you have and how precious that is. The sentimental moment is only broken by your daughter, who says that she has a little request for the two of you. 

“Do you think you can ask the doctors if they can give me the good stuff that you got back in Vegas all those years ago, dad?”  

Moments like this remind you that Piper is her father’s daughter and it earns a laugh from you both. 

“Not a chance, kid, but good try.” 

For the first time in what feels like years, the 3 of you sleep in one bed together. It’s one teeny tiny hospital bed made for a teenager, so you both wake up with extremely sore backs but very full hearts. Piper’s the first to fall asleep, understandably spent from the day she’s been through, but you notice Lando’s eyes never leave her, as if he’s worried she’ll disappear if he looks away. You reach over to grab his hand, you get it. Call it parental instinct, but that feeling of anxiety after something bad happens to your child is just something you can’t push away, and you want him to know that you’re here for him. You both wordlessly take turns watching over Piper throughout the night, holding her hand through blood draws and med deliveries. 

 Lando spends all day and night at Piper’s side while she’s recovering, and it’s only when you and your daughter tell him that he smells absolutely horrendous and needs to go shower do you finally get him to take a beat for himself. He still calls 3 times on the drive home from the hospital alone to check how Piper’s doing, and you have to threaten to not pick up the next time he calls before he finally takes a bit of a break. So often it feels like children drift away from their parents in their teenage years, but Piper’s recovery has given you both the opportunity to spend some much needed time with her as she grows up. 

The minute Piper is cleared by the medical team she’s instantly back in the simulator. She’s a little daredevil like her daddy after all. Lando of course asks over and over again if she’s doing this for herself and not him, the fear of making the same mistakes as earlier weighing heavy on his mind. Your daughter is nothing if not honest, so she tells him about how she loves the sport itself but also loves the way she’s able to connect to her dad through it. Lando makes her pinky promise that she’ll let her know if she ever changes her mind on the subject, and lucky for you both, she never does.

---

author's note: this was based on a lovely request from a reader! if you have any requests feel free to drop them in my ask box :) If you liked this piece and haven't read racer girl yet, give it a read because I'm sure you'll love that one too!

Until next time! - Em <;3

[mars-ipan]

i have my first infusion tomorrow and the Anxiety is kicking in and i am trying so so hard to keep it calm

[honeydewandcake]

TW — Asylum/Hospital setting, mental disorders, medical malpractice

Inspired by Fran Bow, Sparklecare, Pure Trance, and other such things; I had an idea for a Dandy’s World AU that centers around a hospital setting

I feel like a lot of people don’t like asylum or hospital AUs because they are full of exaggerated or misinformed ideas of what mental illness is. I tried not to do that, though I’m not a professional so I still might be wrong about some things. I don’t want to take this idea too far in fear that it might be distasteful, but I do want to share this idea to see if others like it too.

Dandy’s Care is a separate world where, instead of a museum, Dandy and his friends were meant to be for a children’s hospital to treat the sick and ill. They were meant to be comfort characters to patients and were meant to support them during their stay. Like in Dandy’s World, the hospital shut down due to unspecified sanitation issues. Dandy, also known as Dr. Dandicus Dancifer, slowly became more and more starved for activity. He started targeting his friends, making the hospital into an asylum for them. He changed their characters, changing his friends into patients. The toons have no memory of their former self, only knowing their diseased and ill present self.

The staff is made up of the main toons. All of them are nurses and Dandy is the main doctor. They all act like their former selves, though they have no memory. I didn’t want to draw all of them so just imagine Astro and Vee in these uniforms.

Read more to see other toons (not all of them drawn or thought of yet, don’t attack me ;-;) ↓

Razzle and Dazzle, the only ones that I thought of completely because I already drew them before. They’re the reason why I made this entire thing anyway.

They are just experiments by Dandy, who wanted to see if the two could live together if they were attached. They used to love each other, now they don’t. Razzle is no longer looking for comedy, Dazzle is no longer looking for hope. Both are only set on the idea of revenge against Dandy for making them this way.

Life is hard when you can only feel the sensations on one half on your body, they can barely walk and can only stand or sit. They take many painkillers as their wounds take a long time to health properly. They wish they could escape this place and just die already, but they’re stuck and forced to live for as long as Dandy wants.

Razzle is a lot more violent now. He is prone to biting and scratching the staff. He hates doing all the lab tests and medical procedures, he hates being near Dazzle, he hates being stuck in this living hell. Razzle is the reason why they’re not allowed near sharp or blunt objects.

Dazzle became paranoid, scared of any noise that happens. He’s terrified of Razzle because of how violent he can get, he hates him too. Dazzle cries a lot, he cries until he can’t everyday. Dazzle wishes he could just die already, he thinks everything is scary and out to get him.

Shrimpo is thought to be a patient that had anger issues and aggressive tendencies. According to Dandy, he was admitted for being violent in public, although this is only part of the fake story that Dandy gave him. Shrimpo was forced to get a lobotomy, unethical but who cares. Dandy sure didn’t.

He’s still in the recovery phase, so he might be a bit loopy. Once those bandages are off, he’ll be as right as rain. Shrimpo is a wanderer around the hospital as he’s no longer a threat. He’s allowed to leave his room and go out in the play yard but only if a nurse is with him.

Shrimpo doesn’t really have much going for him. His thoughts are scrambled and he only cares for things in front of him. Although the lobotomy made him more passive, it doesn’t mean he’s any better in terms of motivation. Shrimpo certainly has no drive for anything anymore, he doesn’t mind but it gets in the way of his health as well. The staff needs to remind him to go to the dining room to eat or to go take a shower, because otherwise he’ll forget.

Boxten was made to believe that he has had problems with insomnia ever since he was little, of course it’s not true. He takes sleeping pills and melatonin, but it only seems to worsen his nightmares. This makes him skip his doses to avoid sleeping, repeating the cycle over and over.

Boxten is afraid of imaginary things that might get him. He thinks they’ve already in his head, eating away at his brain and giving him nightmares. Of course the only thing the nurses can see is his music box. Boxten has lost all trust in the staff since they couldn’t see or feel the things he can.

In my original notes, it said that Boxten might have psychosis.

Well that’s all the once I’ve drawn, I don’t really have the motivation to make every single toon. I have a couple of ideas though

— Goob somehow survived a terrible accident, but both his arms needed to be amputated making him armless. He suffers from brain damage and internal bleeding. He doesn’t seem to have any change in his personality, still as joyful as ever. Maybe it’s a coping mechanism

— Tisha has severe OCD which damages her mental health. She’s constantly worried about everything that happens around her, making her super aware of her surroundings. She could be a danger to herself and others as she sometimes has very aggressive thoughts but can’t control her actions. She unintentionally hurts herself because of her OCD, such as washing her hands so many times that they start to bleed.

Not for a toon, but I did have an idea for an added addition to the hospital. Maybe there’s a twisted reform center where the staff try and heal twisteds back to their normal self. They would clean the ichor from them but since the ichor is also inside of them their personalities don’t change as much. Twisteds such as Finn and R&D might be too far gone though, they would have to be disabled for life. I might draw this idea because I think it’s kind of cool, I definitely will if people also think this is interesting.

[steddieas-shegoes]

It’s been done in every which way but Eddie being in an accident of some kind that leaves him paralyzed, but his doctors believe he could walk again with intense physical therapy

He’s stubborn and absolutely hasn’t dealt with any of the trauma of the accident and takes it out on his physical therapist, Steve, who is used to patients being pretty angry about their situation

He always meets Eddie where he is though, tries to keep a smile on his face and joke when appropriate and even shares his cookies from his lunchbox with him

Eventually, Eddie starts making some progress, but instead of being happy about it, he panics and cancels all his PT appointments for the week

Steve tries calling, texting, emailing, doing everything he can to encourage him to keep going, but it all goes unanswered until Gareth, one of Eddie’s closest friends, calls him on Eddie’s phone

He’s depressed and he won’t get out of bed, he’s given up. He’s tired of being in pain and having to try to so hard just to move his damn legs a little

Steve isn’t usually this personal with clients, and tells Gareth he can’t discuss anything medical with him due to patient confidentiality, but insists he should try to drag him to the office the next day before it opens

And somehow, probably through guilt, Gareth manages to wheel a very sullen and grumpy Eddie into the side door entrance to the office at seven in the morning

Steve tells him to come back in an hour to pick him up and Eddie ignores the goodbye Gareth says to him

And Steve pretends nothing is wrong at all, goes through the usual temperature and blood pressure check, asks how he’s feeling and gets a grunt in response, asks if there’s any pain and gets an eye roll

But Eddie met his match in Steve because Steve then pushes him to the center of the workout room, where a large mat is out and a walker is set to the side

“What’s that?”

“Your walker.”

“I don’t need one seeing as I can’t fucking walk.”

“You are today.”

And Steve knows he’s pushing and he hates being pushy

But he knows what his clients are capable of, and he knows without a single doubt in his mind that Eddie is ready to use the walker for five to ten minute increments. He has the leg strength and the stubbornness, he just needs the belief in himself

“Do you want me to hurt myself worse?”

“Of course not. And if you get tired, the seat on the walker is right there. But you can walk and you will walk.”

“And if I call Gareth to come get me right now?”

“Then I don’t believe my services are of value to you anymore and I’ll wish you the best.”

It pained Steve to say it because he knew he was fucking good at what he did, maybe the best in town. His clients often had to wait for his availability to open for weeks or months at a time because of how many people were referred to him

But he said the right thing because Eddie huffed, groaned, and cursed under his breath before wheeling himself to the edge of the mat to hold onto the walker

He pulled himself up

His legs were shaking from not being used for the last few days more than the bare minimum, but his determination was clear

Steve slowly pulled the chair away as Eddie unlocked the brakes of the walker and glared at Steve as he took one step, then two

Sure, he was relying pretty heavily on the walker, maybe more than Steve would’ve liked to see, but he was moving

He made it across the mat and then locked the brakes, sat down on the pad on the walker, and gave a sarcastic grin to Steve

“Happy?”

“Are you?”

And maybe Eddie wasn’t ready to be asked that because he was suddenly sobbing, covering his face as tears flowed down his cheeks

Steve gave him a few seconds before moving to kneel in front of him, pulling his hands away

“You deserve to have your life back, Eddie. You’ve been lucky to have the chance to walk again. Let’s not waste it, okay?”

Eddie spent the rest of the session walking across the mat and taking breaks every two minutes or so

It was better than Steve even expected, but he reminded Eddie not to do too much at once

Eddie didn’t miss any more appointments with Steve, and every appointment, he seemed to be more charming and flirty, more like “the old Eddie” according to Gareth, who drove him most days

Steve never admitted it out loud, but he knew what he felt for Eddie was different from other clients. It felt more personal, and it felt like it could be more someday

When Eddie graduated to a cane, Steve’s services were officially no longer needed

And Eddie decided that he should probably take Steve out on a date

“Since I can walk and hold your hand now,” he winked.

Steve should say no, but he doesn’t

Because holding Eddie’s hand feels even more right as his boyfriend than it did as his physical therapist