#i just hope when i get put on meds ill finally be normal. i still have to go to therapy for various things but the mood swings are the only | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thedisablednaturalist · 21 days ago

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Only a few hours ago I had to put my cat Clover to sleep. I took her into the vet after she wasn't able to stand thinking it was just her hyperthyroidism and she would be back to normal after some meds. Turns out her organs were failing. She was ready to go, fiesty even in her last moments. She was 16 years old so I thought I still had some time left since most cats I've known lived to 19

Clover has been with me over half my life. She was such a special cat, more than just a pet to me. When I was little I was terrified of the dark and would stay up all night reading with the lights on. I would then sleep during the day or whenever I ended up passing out. I struggled a lot with mental illness even as a kid. But then Clover came. I could finally sleep with the light off, knowing she was standing guard against anything that might want to hurt me. Yea she was a 1 lb kitten, but my dad told me that cats keep bad spirits away and her being there was enough for me. I guess it was also calming because if she was calm, that meant that there wasn't actually any danger.

In highschool, after I self harmed, she would sit by me as I cried and lick my scars. She kept me from killing myself. She was my whole world, everyone who knows me knows how obsessed I was with her (and her new brother Boo). Whenever I was away from her I was missing her and the first thing I did when getting home was look for her.

She had so much personality, of course since she was a tabby. She would act all aloof around other people but once we were alone in my room she would start loudly purring and licking my face. She would bat at my pencils while I did homework and always scrunched up her nose while she played. When we first introduced her to the family dogs they all lined up one by one to sniff her and when one would come up she would bop them on the nose, one after another. Just imagine this tiny tabby kitten bopping dogs 20x her size on the nose. She was the queen the moment she arrived.

We grew apart when I went to college since I wasn't home as much, and it's something I still feel guilty about. Ive since graduated and worked super hard to get my first apartment that allows pets. For the past few months shes been staying with me, my boyfriend, and her brother. She had been getting super stressed at home since the current dogs kept chasing her. At our apartment she was relaxed and strongly bonded with my boyfriend (I think she liked him more than me). These past few months have been amazing, her coat got softer and she was more energetic. She was so affectionate and spent her days watching us from her cat tree, looking out the window at the people walking by, sleeping on my recliner, and taking her job as bathroom supervisor very seriously.

I thought we would've had more time, at least a year. But this past week she started yowling and then rapidly declined until she could no longer stand. I keep kicking myself for not taking her in sooner, but we had already been under financial strain from taking her brother in for his own medical issues. She had hyperthyroidism and I was told the yowling was normal, and she stopped meowing so I thought that meant she was feeling better. But after visiting my parents we came home to her unable to even lift her head. I guess I was still in denial until the vet mentioned euthanasia, and after she started getting agitated and breathing hard we made the decision. I've never been there when a pet was put down before. I've seen dead animals of course, but never...the process. She was such a little fighter, she was telling us it was her time. She made the decision for me.

I can't sleep, I miss her so much. I keep looking at photos and wanting to be in them with her. I don't know what Im going to do. She was my everything. I wish I could've gone with her. But I have people who need me here. I hope she isn't scared or alone, wherever she is. It was all so sudden. Last week she was still her silly self. I keep thinking about all the things she won't be there for. I look at the cat tree and expect her to be there, watching me, but she's not. I don't want to go through the rest of my journey without her.

I might turn @booclover into a memorial page for her, keep her memory alive. I also want to get a tattoo of a four leaf clover on my shoulder, since she loved sitting on it (or being slung over it when she got bigger)

Ill never forget you, thank you for sharing your life with me

RIP Clover 2007-2024

#wrenfea.exe #cat death #memorial #self harm mention #suicide mention

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starlightkun · 1 year ago

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buzzer beater ❧ teaser [sungchan]

❧ word count: 1028 | full fic: 22.0k ❧ warnings: just cursing for the teaser, everything i know about hockey is from internet research for this fic i’m sorry for any inaccuracies i tried not to put in a lot of specifics lmao ❧ genre: fluff, gets quite suggestive (a heavy makeout scene/near sex scene) but no actual smut, college au, hockey captain sungchan, chronically ill reader (chronic migraines), halloween-themed at the beginning, sungchan’s not a frat boy but he’s like... a frat boy by association ❧ extra info: the ages/relative ages of the members in here are whatever i want them to be, don’t read into it too much. this is a very usamerican-centric take on a college au (greek life, collegiate sports, etc.) btw. also i call kunhang ‘hendery’ in here like it’s his government name for a one-line gag bc i think i’m hilarious (and i am <;3) the reader in this has chronic migraines, which i also have. when the reader’s migraines, experiences as a chronically ill person, and thoughts about being chronically ill are described, that is me writing directly from my own life. i am not a spokesperson for chronic migraines (lol) and am not generalizing the lives of all people with chronic migraines and chronic illness, as we are all different. but i am sending all my love to any readers out there living with a chronic illness, and here’s a reminder to go take your meds!! ❧ estimate release: saturday, october 14, 2023 2:00 p.m. eastern time

“Anyway, your turn,” you tapped his knee with your book before putting it back in your bag.

“For what?”

“To expand my horizons of you. All I know about you is that you’re the hockey captain, and a Bio major who took a gothic fiction class one time like three years ago. Show me you’re a multifaceted individual, too.”

“Uhm, that’s about it.”

“Oh come on, Sungchan.”

“No really, if I’m not on the ice, I’m in class; if I’m not in class, I’m with my team; and if I’m not with my team, I’m studying.”

“You’re here, right now,” you pointed out. “Last I checked I’m not on your hockey team, and we’re not studying. You have to do one thing that’s not for school or hockey. My thing was just watching Pacific Rim this one time, remember?”

“Alright…” he paused to think, fingers tapping along his thighs. “I used to play the piano.”

“Past tense, but I’ll accept it. When did you stop?”

“High school? Around when piano lessons and hockey practice started conflicting.”

“And you chose hockey?” You asked, hoping it didn’t sound judgmental. You really were just curious, trying to understand him.

“Actually, the choice was made for me.” He held his right hand out in front of you, and it was then that you saw his pinky finger was unnaturally crooked as he pointed to the digit. “I broke it in a game without even realizing it. Bruises and stiffness sometimes are normal so me and my parents didn’t know anything was up until weeks later when I was fucking up all the notes at my piano lessons because it still hurt. By the time I finally saw a doctor and got a splint on it, it set up wrong. All dexterity for piano out the window. Hockey on the other hand… guys have done a lot more with a lot less.”

You couldn’t help but curiously run a gentle fingertip over the crook in his pinky. “Does it hurt at all? Now?”

“Not really.” He went to bend and flex the fingers of his right hand, and you saw how the fifth finger didn’t curl up as much as the others. “It’s just a lot stiffer. Doesn’t bother me all that much.”

He brought his left hand up and wiggled the fingers on that hand. “Besides, I’m a lefty anyway.”

“So—apologies if this sounds like a stupid question to you, I don’t know anything about hockey—are there like, different hockey sticks for left-handed and right-handed players?”

Sungchan immediately broke into snickers, and you set down your mug to cross your arms over your chest indignantly.

“Hey, I didn’t laugh at you for not knowing what death of the author was—”

“I wasn’t making fun of you, I’m sorry,” he covered his mouth. “That was just… too cute. Uhm yes, there are lefty and righty sticks.”

You had to bite down your bottom lip to not smile at him calling you cute, and instead keep up your ruse of being offended. “I feel patronized.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” There was still a hint of a giggle in his tone, and you felt your self-righteous façade slip away as he continued, “You should come to a game, then, if you really want to broaden your horizons. The season just started. First home game is this Thursday, actually. 7:00 p.m. and students get free admission with your student ID.”

“Thursday?”

“Fridays are for basketball, Saturdays are for football.”

“Oh. Right.”

“You don’t go to those games either, do you?”

“Oh no, did I make it obvious?” You asked sarcastically.

“A bit,” Sungchan jested back.

Outside the window visible past Sungchan, the rain had let up a few minutes ago, and you briefly glanced over at your laptop for the time. Shit, your next alarm was going to be going off soon. If you left now, you should be home at roughly the right time for your next dose.

Clicking your tongue, you started packing up your things, “Well, looks like the rain’s finally let up enough to allow me safe passage. That’s my cue.”

“Oh.” The hockey player with you looked over his shoulder at the newly sunny day outside before turning back to watch you put your things away.

“Are you heading out too?” You nodded to his empty cup.

“I’ve uh, got some homework to do.”

“Guess this is where we part ways then.”

“Um, you didn’t say if you were going. To the game.”

You tucked your chin to your chest to hide your smitten smile as you put your laptop in your bag. Typically just asking for the details would’ve been taken for a yes, but Sungchan wanted extra confirmation. This boy wasn’t good for your heart, truly.

Turning back to him, you gave him a firm and nearly business-like nod. “Yeah, I’ll be there.”

A bright grin lit up his features. “Okay! Great! Uhm, feel free to bring some friends, I know just sitting in the stands by yourself might be lonely.”

“I’ll see if I can drag somebody else out. It’ll be a tall order, though. Literature majors, you know, we prefer our Shakesperean poetry readings.”

“Oh, well—”

“I’m kidding,” you laughed and stood then, slinging your tote onto your shoulder. “Honestly, have you seen Chenle at a rager? Boy can drink twice his body weight I swear. He shouldn’t, but he can.”

Before you could reach for your cup and saucer to buss your place, the hockey captain spoke up, “I’ll take care of your mug, don’t worry.”

“Oh, thanks, Sungchan! I’ll see you Thursday then.”

“Bye…” Sungchan trailed off, watching the door long after it had closed behind you.

He didn’t actually have any homework to do, and scrolled on his phone for a few minutes to make sure you were out of the area before leaving himself. He grabbed his long-empty plastic cup and your mug. His went in the trash, and as he went to put yours up with the other dishes and trays, his eyes were caught by the iridescent glitters left behind on the rim by your lip gloss.

⤷ blog masterlist

#sungchan x reader #riize x reader #sungchan imagines #riize imagines #jungsung #sungchan imagine #riize imagine #nct x reader #nct imagine #nct imagines #jung sungchan #i: sungchan #f: buzzer beater #bb: teaser #writing #text #mine #bias tag

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livingandthriving · 4 months ago

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A year ago today I went to see my doctor, hoping to get some answers (and treatment) for my increasingly severe respiratory issues. She ruled out asthma and sent me to the ER to get some tests done. Little did I know I'd end up hospitalized for 3.5 weeks.

(This is going to be long, sorry.)

They tested me for Covid and allergies, and when those came back negative they did a CT scan, and that was when they saw I probably had some type of lymphoma. They did not tell me this right away, just that there was a lot of fluid build-up around my lungs, among other things. Getting that drained was Not Fun (I almost passed out). I was admitted to the hospital proper after that, and spent 10 days in the Pneumology ward hooked up to O2 and getting the pleural effusion drained every few days while waiting on an official diagnosis. They did tell me on day 2 that they'd found what might be tumor and needed to do a biopsy to confirm, so when the diagnosis turned out to be Hodgkins lymphoma I was not completely surprised, but it still felt unreal. (Mind you, when the hospital psychologist came in with the doctor to break the news, I had a feeling it wasn't going to be good.)

The doctor was quick to reassure me that my prognosis was good, but there was clearly no time to lose since I was promptly transferred to Lyon to start chemo. I got my first helicopter ride out of the deal: they were concerned about potential traffic jams on the highway and didn't want to risk it while I was still on oxygen. My best friend's response when I messaged her to tell her this was to suggest I hum the Mission: Impossible theme while in the air. I didn't, but the crew found her suggestion hilarious. 😂

I made it to Lyon without incident, and my parents arrived shortly after I did (traffic was fine after all) to find that I was already something of a celebrity: apparently they don't get many patients come in by helicopter. Upon learning this, Best Friend's sister requested my autograph. (There's a reason I'm good friends with this family.) 😆

The next day was a blur of procedures, culminating in getting hooked up to my first round of chemo that evening. I was a little concerned about potential nausea, but thankfully the anti-nausea meds they gave me beforehand worked beautifully. I was still exhausted afterwards, though. That would be my default state for the next few months.

A few days in, it was determined that poking a new hole in me every 3-4 days to drain the pleural effusion was highly impractical, especially since it was going to take a while to go away, so I got a drainage tube put in. It was Supremely Uncomfortable (I was on morphine for several days), but within a few hours they were finally able to take me off oxygen! Being able to breathe normally never felt so good.

I got to go home in between rounds of chemo, which was very nice, even if I wasn't back in my own room (I had twice-daily nurse visits and it was easier for me to be in the guest room downstairs).

Going back for the second round was definitely different: no helicopter, I was able to walk in, and I knew what to expect this time - well, mostly. I didn't anticipate having to stay a couple of extra days because getting a new Picc line put in proved challenging. It's always something, isn't it? 😅

Thankfully that was the last time I had to stay at the hospital for more than a few hours: the PET scan I got a few weeks later showed that I was in remission, and I was able to do the rest of my chemo as an outpatient at my local hospital. Aside from two sessions getting postponed due to illness/low white blood cell count, that all went smoothly and I had my final session in January.

Early February I got another PET scan which confirmed that I was in complete remission, at which point I could focus on recovery. This is definitely going to be the longest part; I was told it can take up to 2 years to get back to normal. The fact that I'm already back at work, albeit part-time, is pretty good, all things considered.

So, how did all this affect me emotionally? The first few days in the hospital were probably the hardest, because something was obviously very wrong, but I didn't know what. In spite of that, I had a sense of peace and that God was in control (the song The Goodness of God was stuck in my head for days). That peace persisted even with the diagnosis, which is definitely a miracle because I'm generally prone to anxiety and jumping to the worst-case scenario. Instead, my reaction was, "Welp, this is gonna suck, but I'm going to make it." It helped that I had lots of people praying for me.

Even so, there were some rough moments. Losing my hair a few weeks in was especially difficult. I knew it was going to grow back, but I think that was when everything really started to sink in. Having to cancel my travel plans for the fall was another hard pill to swallow. Not being able to go to church was probably the hardest.

How am I doing now? Well, I'm still processing everything (hence this post), and likely will be for some time. It still feels a little unreal to tell people I had cancer. It's not one of those things you ever think you'll have to deal with, at least I didn't think I would. But here we are. I will say the fact that I'm starting to really process it all now is a good sign since it means my brain is no longer in survival mode. Hopefully that will continue.

I could go on, but this is already very long (kudos to you if you made it this far) and it's late, so for now I'll just say I'm grateful to still be here. Oh, and if you start having weird symptoms, don't wait to see a doctor.

#personal #health stuff #this is super long sorry #i have many thoughts #it's been a weird year y'all

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ofthoughtsandmemories · 1 year ago

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I was loading up tumblr to take a look at some older posts on my main blog and, for some reason, this blog was what loaded first. It was a real slap in the face, honestly, but not in a terrible way.

It's sort of coincidental that I run across this blog unintentionally when very recently I've been reflecting on how tumblr and internet culture as a whole in my teenage years affected my mental health and sense of self. I think a lot about the Twenty One Pilots Era and how depression and anxiety and other mental health problems were not just normalized, but celebrated. It was extremely toxic and I fell into that pit so easily.

I believe I have always suffered from depression and anxiety - or at least symptoms of both regularly enough to distinguish it from ADHD - but I just have this gut feeling that I would have been better off if I had never participated in that kind of community at all. I developed anorexia and made thinspo blogs. I found myself desperately wanted to be diagnosed officially with something so that I could feel... validated, I guess? Special? Worth something? Which was probably indicative of mental illness in itself, but still, the guilt of "faking it" has haunted me all my life. Even well past the point of growing up and realizing these communities were harmful.

It made me treat my friends poorly. I was paranoid and selfish and hurting, and I lashed out at people who didn't deserve it. Kayden in particular lingers in my mind. I'd like to apologize someday, but I don't know if it's worth bringing up old pain if he still even thinks about it. Same with Paige, since I know now that what I felt for her was limerance and an extremely unhealthy anxious attachment style/codependence. It was not her fault and I feel like, at least at one point, she thought it was. I hope she realizes the truth now.

I'm in my third year of grad school. Every year has been a series of increasingly difficult mental, social, and academic challenges. Hell, even physical, at this point. I reached one of the lowest spots of my life on my 24th birthday this year, where I finally got low enough that suicide was a real, serious option, and I asked my friends to hospitalize me. I only spent 2 or so days in a psych ward, but it was terrible enough to deter me from doing that again unless the stakes are truly dire. I felt so dehumanized. My things were taken, I was forced to strip and put on scrubs that didn't fit, I was free bleeding with no underwear for 8 hours and even still didn't receive a menstrual pad until a few hours before my discharge, I was put in a room in the ER where there was no bed, only a tiny cot on the floor, and when I was at the ward I was woken up all hours of the night by people taking my vitals or asking me question or even just other patients screaming their distress at nothing in the rooms adjacent to me. A man I discharged with, clearly homeless and mentally unwell, had an angry rampage in the lobby as I was waiting for my friend to pick me up. I watched him walk off into the cold weather with no shirt and no place to go. I can't stop thinking about it.

I don't know if I'm going to graduate this semester. I'll make it work if I don't, but it's going to be a financial strain on both myself and my parents. I'm feeling marginally better recently after starting some new meds and seeing my therapist more frequently and having my Omaha friends to rely on, so I'm hopeful that I can get everything done that I need to. We will see.

I guess I just wanted to use this space as a little journal to reflect on the past semester and stuff. Part of me hopes someone sees it, just to share a piece of myself with someone, but that part of me is pretty selfish.

Things will get better. I know that and I can see it on the near horizon. I just need to do my part, ask for help when I need it, rely on my friends, and stay optimistic as best I can. No one will be able to say I didn't try.

Anyway... here's a picture of Spoon and Fork for a palate cleanser for myself. I'm gonna go bother them with kisses now

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notyourparentstherapist · 1 year ago

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Deeply Personal

CW, Trauma, CPTSD, emotional neglect, parents with mental illness, hoarding, abuse

TL;DR

I am a survivor of emotional neglect, a parent with complex mental illness, and need this living document to remind myself that my dissociative and cptsd symptoms make sense given what I have been through. I often don't remember or can't tolerate having all together in one place so I tend to "just forget" anything pre high school. I need something external and tangible to remind myself that was I went through was real, horrible, and just as valid as other forms of neglect and abuse. I often talk myself out of being a survivor of anything. Or try and convince myself it was all a dream. Which is an intense CPTSD and dissociative response. The post below is raw and full of spelling mistakes. One of us needed to get it out.

I have been spending a lot of time sitting with it all.

I have trouble placing it all together most days. Honestly I'd rather forget it all. My job, as a part, is to be functional, working, and committed to security for the body and everyone else.

So asking me to go to therapy twice, even three times, has been so so hard for me. N is the first therapist I have been able to stick with for a long time. Other than C who I saw in college. She was my first real therapist and we saw her every week for 4 years. She helped me start to put a lot of my past together.

In college, when I was finally away from my home, is when I stepped in. I could finally do what I wanted to do. So I took on three jobs, took 18 credits a semester, some times even 19, and was on the board for two clubs, one being the honors society.

I made up every excuse I needed to no go home for breaks. I begged the father, who left when we were 4 and has barely participated, for money to help us stay on campus. I am thankful he did once until the step monster stepped in. She really fucked any chance we had at a relationship with the father.

During this time C was started to align for me that our mom was mentally ill. The way she operated was my normal for so long. She never let friends come over who were not fully vetted, I had limited friends I could go see. Had to turn my cell phone in every night for her to search it. She monitored all of my social media. I was also dancing so I was in the studio 36 hours a week by the time I was a senior. (I was also dancing on an undiagnosed hip injury which I had to manage all the medical appointments to starting at 16 which is also not normal). She had me sign a clothing contract which stated what I could and could not wear every day. (she sent it to me in college as well hoping i'd follow it).

She was a teacher, until she lost her job in the 08 market crash. She has never been the same since. I cannot remember what life was like before high school really, I remember some of middle school. But C was there to remind me that my mother was also an addict.

I was blinded to the idea that someone could be addicted to prescriptions. I naively believed that doctors were all good and that would never happen. Meanwhile, C explaining the effects of all the meds mother was on made a lot of sense.

She stopped maintaining the house. Things started falling apart. We had no money, lack of heat and hot water was the norm. The house would get so gross wed have insect and rodent infestations. Mold too. This is why I always had lung infections and NO ONE THOUGHT TO LOOK INTO THE HOUSE. I am still so mad. There were so many signs things were wrong.

She is a classic case of prescription abuse. She was on the phentanyl patch, percs, and ativan by the time I was 18. Those drugs ran her life. If she took them she would be passed out for most of the day. Unable to take us anywhere. She'd forget to pick us up, including my sibling M. She was not present. When she lost her job it got worse. She'd sleep all day. Stopped cooking. I would have been 16 and M 14.

I took over a lot. I got my permit so I could drive us around. It took her convincing to go anywhere or do anything.

I am so thankful I have a close relationship with M. I do not think we would have survived without each other. He recently told me, "You know, when I look back on the happy times with you or what we did when we were younger, mom isn't there. She was never there". I was shook. He remembers less than I do, which I honestly think is a good thing.

I got fed up at 17. I started pushing back, getting angry. Mother and I fought all the time. (she denies this). However, another side story is the reason I struggle personally. She has my brother and I convinced we had psychological and developmental issues. She full believed my brother was incapable of reading and writing to the point where she did all his homework for him. Leaving me angry about how much "support" he got. Little did I know then that this would cripple his sense of esteem.

She had me convinced I was like my father, who has OCPDO, and that I was vulnerable to addiction and bi polar like mood swings like her. She had me on meds starting in elementary school. It started with concerta and ritalin. Then we moved to Strattera. Then my moods became "uncontrollable and disproportionate" so they put me on prozac. Turns out I can't break that down so they put me on sertraline. But then I started having panic attacks daily in middle school. So then ativan was added and they tried me on welbutrin then celexa. By the time I was 18 in high school I was on straterra for ADHD (Which I don't have), Lamotragine (aka lamictal for bi-polar which I also don't have), ativan, and sertraline.

I was an over medicated 18 year old, with a hip injury, and surviving Munchausen's by proxy (I know the name changed with the DSM V), while also surviving emotional neglect at home and dealing with a mentally ill parent who was addicted to prescriptions. Plus my house looked like an episode of hoarders. (I can't watch the show it is too triggering).

*taking a deep breath*

I only had small parts of this. At any one time.

There were other events of sexual abuse that took place outside of the home so I am not discussing those here.

I never suffered physical abuse. So for the longest time I did not understand why I could not trust people, why I was so reactive to touch or being invalidated.

To date, my biggest trigger is when people do not take my emotional needs seriously. Like I get it, I am too functional most of the time, but being told at a young age that I was "such a good advocator" was not actually good. Why are we praising a 12 year old for knowing how to advocate for disability needs in middle school. THAT SHOULD HAVE BEEN MY MOTHERS JOB.

All of this stems from a core story mother tells people. She uses it to highlight my independence. She used to say that I never cried much, I slept a lone a lot. Never needed much attention. Until M was born. (His needs were way different and I always understood that). He had a lot of stomach issues and mother had post partum depression with him. Anyways, the story goes like this.

Mother: I remember you waling out into the kitchen while I was holding M and you asked me, which I always knew you'd be like this, you asked me, Mom why does M get all the warm stuff?"

LET THAT SINK IN. At less than 4 years old. I asked my parent why does my sibling get all the warm stuff???

Her response.

"well you never asked"

THIS. IS. EMOTIONAL. NEGLECT. AND. MISS ATTUNMENT. AT ITS BEST.

She tells this story to people and they things it is so fucking cute how observant I was.

But I just get so sad and mad about it.

I don't think a 4 year old or less needs to "advocate" for attention. Like fuck me.

Often I have to remind myself that my CPTSD symptoms and dissociation MAKE FUCKING SENSE.

Home was not safe or clean, so my sibling and I played a lot of make believe until middle school (which is developmentally very late). I learned quickly that the only way to get needs met was to ask and be prepared for a volatile no or to take care of things myself. NO WONDER I DON"T LET ANYONE HELP ME. LIKE FUCK. WTF.

I learned I could not talk to mother about personal stuff due to fears of being punished. I attempted to come out as bisexual to her and she told me I could no longer have any friends over due to her fears of me being sexual with everyone. (meanwhile she would sit in front of the TV shouting for gay rights and supporting the gay marriage bill). It was SO confusing growing up.

SO I think it makes sense that parts of me would fracture off right? The child parts concerned with fantasy play and arts and crafts or the mute one who is sad and lonely. The angry/sassy teen. The workaholic and perfect student. The sarcastic/flirty hypersexual part that split off at 17 due to sexual abuse to cope. Also at 17 was the suicidal and self harming one. I am sure there are more.

Yet when N asks me to validate myself I just can't. I know in my soul that OSDD/DID is a thing for me. It has disrupted my life in different ways. It is dysfunctional in many ways. This will be a separate post I think.

IDK.

Sorry for trauma dumping. I am sure I left parts out.

#dissociative disorder #mental health #therapy #dissociation #trauma recovery #complex ptsd #ptsd #trauma #mental illness #therapist with lived experience

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fatedwithmbc · 1 year ago

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Ibrance, party of one… Ok, that’s kind of lame, but I can’t sleep. I don’t know if this is a legitimate side effect or a psychosomatic one. I was not thrilled to be beginning a new line of treatment tonight (or in general). Line ONE should do the trick. It should be most effective. It’s the gold standard according to every second opinion doctor I met with prior to treatment even beginning. It’s supposed to kill the cancer proteins. Starting a second line, especially one that comes with all of the same side effects as the first line of treatment is like being back at square one. I’m scared I’m going to lose my energy and go right back to sleeping and being in bed all day as the meds kill the cancer proteins. Fuck, I STILL have to use the words “cancer proteins”. It doesn’t get easier almost a year later.

I had an appointment with my primary care physician yesterday. The last one ever. She is leaving the practice because of the rules Penn has placed on their doctors to see “X” amount of patients in “X” amount of time per day. As a physician, I am sure it’s frustrating to be told how much time you can allot to one patient, especially when they have a significant illness or complications. She did have some different insight on my back pain which I was happy about— because “ghost pain” sans an amputation wasn’t cutting it with me. The hypothesis is that I likely have some nerve pain in my back, or a pinched nerve. This explains why sitting and standing emphasize the pain, while laying down alleviates it. She ordered an MRI, but the first available appointment is for August 3rd. “A shortage of technicians” is what the scheduler stated. I immediately contacted my Jefferson care team to see if there was anyway this could be expedited. The last thing I want is to miss out on Colorado because I can’t sit or stand. I left a message with my oncologist not expecting a response until today (06/29/23), alas, he called me last night and is getting an appointment STAT.

Side note, I love saying “STAT”, it makes me feel official.

I finally return to therapy and psychiatry tomorrow. These will be my first appointments since my 10 day hospital stay (sang like the words “3 hour tour” from the Gilligan’s Island theme song (And speaking of older shows, the man who plays the character Herman Munster is also the judge in My Cousin Vinny… look it up, you’re welcome)). I’m both excited and anxious for these appointments. Excited because it’s been too long for me to be without these services and anxious because I am not sure if I am going to be told my progress sans anti-depressant has been some type of mania. To me, it’s progress, although, I recognize the need for my antidepressant and am looking forward to restarting it. I am hoping the adjunct I have been taking can help me find a middle ground in life. A nice easy place where I sleep regular hours and have motivation to do the simple things like laundry, versus returning to the world of sleeping all day and accomplish nothing because I don’t wake up until 4pm. YES! That was my normal. I don’t want to go back there. Especially after enjoying English Muffins each morning with my Mom-Mom while we discuss our plans for the day.

I suppose that is enough for my medical fears and updates.

Outside of these “developments”, I have attempted a reconnection with my estranged family as my uncle has an incurable Glioblastoma and is in hospice care. I feel terrible for this man who was intelligent, determined, loving and stubborn to a fault (which he learned from his father). He was a good father to his children, and even to me when I was a child and spent many summers at his home or on vacations that he and his wife lavished upon me. We used to be so close. It’s funny how estrangement happens and no one wants to be the owner of the reason. In the end, I will eat the blame, just so I can have a chance to say good bye. Is that right? No. And frankly, I’m more than a little pissed off about it. How do you put adult responsibilities in a child’s hands and then shame them for being unable to meet your expectations of them. I have a distinct memory of baby sitting for my other aunt and uncle for a week during the summer in high-school. At the time, they lived about a mile away from my ill uncle. I spent the money I earned to buy my aunt a birthday present and she snubbed me for weeks over not coming to see her despite the gift. Why? Because I didn’t come see them while I wasn’t babysitting. I was 15, I had a boyfriend and friends who, at the time felt more important, as those things do at t hat age. Emotional maturity never seemed to be a strong suit for that side of the family and I recall it causing many rifts and hurt feelings for many. Especially “S” children. At the end of the day, I just want to do the right thing. But as I have said before, why does the right thing always mean I’m eating the blame? It hurts. I loved them all once upon a time and thought the sun shone out of all of their asses. Little did I know that my father was giving me the best upbringing I could have had in life. One with just the right amount of hardship to teach me how to earn things for myself, how to be a decent human and to love where it was deserved.

Newsflash: Money does not equal everything, nor does it equal a happy life. Though I am sure it doesn’t hurt.

Why did karma decide I could have a long life with a stage IV diagnosis, while others I love have a stage IV diagnosis and quickly deteriorate and die? I can’t reconcile it with anything I have in my heart.

I’m starting to get teary eyed while typing this, and at 3:35am, I should probably try to get some sleep for my body’s sake. As always, thanks for listening (or reading). El Fin.

#fated with mbc #confessions of a cancer patient #stage iv deserves more #metastatic breast cancer #stage iv metastatic breast cancer #breast cancer #metastaticbreastcancer #grieving adult child #memories #healthcare #chronic conditions #medical fears

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puffpasstea · 2 years ago

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omg yayyy that angsty sick matilda blurb sounds amazing!!! i can't wait <3

So, this took a COMPLETE TURN!!! It's also wayyyy too long to be a blurb, but I really hope you still like it. 🥺🥺🥺 Please let me know what you think! Warnings: dom!harry, fluff, mentions of smut.

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I knew when I’d gone to bed feeling achy all over and drained of energy after doing the bare minimum that I’d wake up feeling sick this morning, but the reality of how I felt still exceeded my expectations. I dragged my feet across the floor to the medicine cabinet and pulled out a thermometer to check for a fever. Luckily, there it was within normal range. I was probably just dehydrated and sleep deprived. In fairness, I’ve never had the best immune system anyway, as a child, I got the sniffles pretty much twice a month. My grandmother and her friends always speculated that it’s because I never got enough bonding time with my parents as an infant. Some people informally diagnosed me with a deficient immune system, stemming from some kind of imbalance or other. When I’m not in denial about how I treat myself, I tend to think it’s because I run myself into the ground on a regular basis and overall suck at looking after myself.

I would never confess or try to explain the thought process to anybody because I know just how insane it sounds when said out loud, but I often feel that I don’t deserve to rest. And, even if I did, it wouldn’t matter either way. Because, unlike the average person, I had no real personal life, or a family who depended on me. All I had was work. It’s my one real responsibility; the one thing I’m decent at; the one thing I actually enjoy. So, I didn’t need to take breaks, and if I end up falling ill, it wouldn’t matter anyway. The only person who’d end up being affected would be me. Comforted by my dubious logic, and the fact that I had no fever to speak of, I decided I’d power through and go into work. I was going to spend my time in the microfilm room, alone, for most of the day. Maybe, if I get everything done early, I could get a nap in before dropping by the film set.

I stuffed my work bag full of tea bags, Emergen-C, and cough drops, just to be prepared for the worst and got out the door. Thanks to the regular covid testing policy on campus, at least I knew I wasn’t carrying a deadly disease. That was a silver lining.

The first couple of hours of work went by fine, it was when I began to feel weak and queasy that the trouble started. I probably needed to eat something to get my energy up, but I had positively no appetite or desire to eat. The very thought of food made me nauseous. I had some generic meds in my desk drawer that I could take, but those probably shouldn’t be taken on an empty stomach.The irony of the dilemma frustrated me. I feel too sick to eat, so I need to take some meds, but I can’t take any meds before I’ve had something to eat first. The adult thing to do here would probably be to seek medical help. So, I tried to imagine what a doctor or nurse might say to me. “Get some rest and drink some fluids.” Which would mean skipping out on work; the only thing that gave me purpose. Nope. Finally, I made the decision to put a couple of spoonfuls of sugar and a squeeze of lemon into my hot tea, to see if that would help. On the plus side, working with microfilm required very dim light and precise temperature control which probably mitigated the headache some. If there ever was a day to be sick on the job, today was it.

Around lunchtime, I felt my phone buzz in my pocket. Out of an abundance of caution, and a superstitious kind of respect for these materials that hardly anyone ever requested anymore, I decided to take the call outside. Cracking open the door and stepping into the hallway proved disorienting. But I told myself I was just dizzy because my eyes needed to adjust to the light. Caller ID on my screen showed that it was Harry, causing an almost reflexive smile to appear on my face.

I swallowed, picking up the call.

“Hello?”

“Hey, sweets. Am I interrupting anything?”

“No, never. What’s up?”

I heard him chuckle nervously on the other end of the line. Though he seemed uncertain, the sound of his laugh always made my heart skip a beat. Not that I’d ever tell him that.

“C’mon, out with it, Styles. What’s going on?”

“Uhh, well, this is gonna make me sound like a horny shithead, but, I’m free for the next couple of hours, and- last week, when I had this time off, we-”

“Oh, so, this is a booty call?”

All I heard in response was a bunch of incoherent stuttering. One of the reasons that I found Harry’s dominance so compelling was the fact that, meeting him in the context of everyday interactions, you’d never guess that he had it in him to be that cruel or strict. It always caught me off-guard whenever he would flip the switch, and it was always the hottest thing ever.

“Not when you put it like that.”

“Like what?”

“Come over and meet me, and I’ll show ya.”

I weighed the options in my mind. Not that his offer wasn’t tempting, but I hated being around people when I was sick. I’d purposefully come in through a different entrance so I wouldn’t have to run into Fran and let her see me like this. If I declined Harry’s offer, though, he would almost certainly know that something’s off. We always found a way to hook up when the opportunity presented itself. To be sure, he always checked in and made sure I never felt pressured or obligated. Sometimes I’d have to get impatient and yell that I definitely show up because I want to, not because I have to, before he’s fully convinced, but we always, always met up. Even if it meant delaying for a bit, or waiting until later in the day. I mean, sure, the sex was fun and all. It wasn’t just about the sex though. Spending any time at all with Harry meant the world to me. He always made me feel seen and heard, and allowed me to explore sides of myself I never thought existed. He was also, always, unexpectedly wild and funny, and I got to see glimpses of what he’s personally like, that often lingered in my memory long after our interactions had ended, and I would fantasize about spending my life with him and sharing these moments everyday. In other words, even if he weren’t calling me for sex, I’d still want to go. The question is, would I be able to hide my current state from him?

“Hello? Have I lost you? Connection in the trailer’s kinda spotty sometimes…”

“N-no, I’m here, Harry. I can hear you.”

“Oh, well- umm… listen, I didn’t mean to make you feel like an object, I’m so sorry….I came off sleazy for sure…I just thought It’d be nice to-”

“Hey, Harry?”

“Yeah?”

“Come over here an fuck me, will you?”

“On my way.”

***

Harry’s smile slowly dissolved as he got closer and closer to me. I unlocked the old office-turned-storage-room that we often hung out in for privacy, and snuck him in.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Uhh, well, hello to you too?” I deflected. He was already seeing right through me. I loved that Harry knew me so well, could read my body like an open book, knew exactly what I needed when I needed it, and knew exactly how to give it to me. But, times like these made our intimacy feel overwhelming and suffocating.

“No, I mean it.” He cut straight through my attempted bluff. “What’s wrong? Your eyes look glassy, and…well, you seem off.”

I entertained the idea of playing it off like I was offended. “Excuse me? Just go ahead and call me ugly, why don’t you. after you called to-”

“Baby, you know I think you’re beautiful. Always. Don’t act like that isn’t true. We both know it is. Now tell me what’s going on?” He reached over to caress my cheek with the back of his hand. “Shit, you’re burning up….”

I stared into his eyes, unable to speak, and unable to look away. My anxious mind ran over the different possibilities for this conversation. I wasn’t sure which would be worse, having to tell him that I’m sick and him insisting on doing something about it, or having to tell him that I’m sick and him walking away from me.

I don’t know why it felt so inconceivable to admit to him that I was feeling ill. Harry had seen me at my worst pretty early on in our friendship. He’d cleaned my apartment, shaved my body, washed my hair, without batting an eye. Hell, he’d even stuck his dick in my ass, beat me bloody, and spent many nights looking after me in subspace, at my most vulnerable. So why was this so hard? Maybe because I hate asking for help, or maybe it’s because Harry had already done so much for me. I didn’t want him to feel responsible for me. I also didn’t want to appear helpless and needy. And yet, this instance, the only thought I had was how I’d crumble to the ground if he pulled his touch away, let alone left the room.

“I-I swear I wasn’t feverish when I came to work this morning…” I wrapped my arms around the arm that touched my face, to make sure he kept it there.

“You’ve been sick since this morning?”

“Since…last night.” I mumbled.

“So, earlier, when I called and you hesitated…” I could see in his eyes that the realization hit him. “Oh, god. And I didn’t even bother to ask how you were doing before I asked if you’d wanna suck my dick…what kind of- shit. Shit. shit! I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t mean to-”

“Harry, Harry, Stop!” I squeezed his hand to get his attention. “You didn’t ask me to suck your dick. I believe all I heard was incoherent stuttering…”

Harry rolled his eyes, cracking a smile. “Okay, brat. Gonna let that one slide. Only cuz you’re ill though...”

“Seriously, I was the one who asked you to come over. Stop berating yourself please.”

“Alright, well, it’s a good thing I came, isn’t it?” He wrapped his arm around my shoulders. “Let’s get you outta here. C’mon…”

“I’m in the middle of work!”

“Work will survive without you for half a day. All the dead poets will still be dead tomorrow. Let’s go.”

“I can’t-”

“You seem to forget who’s actually in charge here…”

***

On the way home, I fell asleep in the passenger’s seat of Harry’s car, with his hand on my thigh the whole way. When I woke up, blinking the sleep away, and attempting to open my eyes, all I saw was Harry’s gentle smile, inches away from me. “You’re awake..” He’d bent down to cradle me into his arms, and carry me out of the car,

“W-wait, what are you doing? This isn’t even my place!”

“Yeah, it’s mine. Think i'm lettin’ you spend the night alone when you’re this sick? Who’s gonna look after you if your fever doesn’t go down? Hmm?”

“I- Harry, I’m a grown woman. Can take care of myself, you know. I HAVE gotten sick before…”

“Honey, I don’t doubt that you can. But just cuz you can, doesn’t mean you should have to.”

Despite my relentless protests, Harry refused to put me down until we’d reached his bed. He set me square in the middle of the king sized bed and promptly went on to take my shoes off for me. Which I fought him for, and attempted to kick his hands away. A Battle I quickly lost.

“It’s pathetic…” He shook his head with a smile as he undid my shoe laces. “On your very best days, I can tie you up and pin you down with one hand. We’ve done it countless times. Tryin’ to fight me when you’re sick? It’s just sad…”

I blushed at the recollection of my body underneath his, aching for his touch.

He disappeared into one of his gigantic closet and came back moments later. “Heating pad; some clothes…boxers might be a bit loose, but that’s probably more comfortable anyway, and here’s an extra pillow to prop you up. Want the TV on or do you wanna just sleep while I make us some soup?”

“S-soup? Harry, you're supposed to be on set in an hour!”

“Took care of that. Don’t worry.”

“What does that even mean?”

“Chicken noodle or Italian vegetable? I’m thinkin italian…”

***

I stared down at the empty soup bowl in my lap as Harry watched the tv with his arm around me.

“Harry?” my voice was already strained. Tears pooling in the corners of my eyes,

“Hmm?” his eyes still on the screen.

“Can I ask you a question? But please be honest.”

“‘Course, always.” He muted the tv and turned around to face me, giving mr his undivided attention.

“What happens on a film set when a leading actor suddenly disappears in the middle of a work day?”

“Oh…” He turned his attention back to the TV, apparently deeming my concern unserious. “Depends on the circumstances…”

“Let’s say he disappeared cuz he skipped out on work to go make Italian vegetable soup for the woman he’s sleeping with.”

Harry looked visibly irritated. With a loud huff, he ran his fingers through his hair, pressing his lips together tightly…

“First of all, I’ve already told you to quit worrying, I have everything under control. Second, you’re not just some ‘woman I’m sleeping with,’ alright? Get it through your thick head, I’m in love with you! I know you’re too fucked up to accept that as fact, and I get that. I don’t blame you. I mean, you couldn’t even tell me you were sick! Think I don’t know why that is? I may not experience the things that you do, but I’m not an idiot…” He took a pause to catch his breath and to gain control over his tone. “You’ve got it in your head that you don’t deserve love. Any time I try to show you any decency or step closer, you bolt right away under the assumption that caring about you is this huge fuckin burdon to me. Well, it’s not. I’m not gonna argue with you about it. I know I can’t just convince you of it in one conversation….but I’ll be damned if I don’t spend the rest of my life trying to show you what it means to love you.”

Hot, stinging tears ran freely down my face. “You- love me?”

“Mhmm.” Harry nodded and reached for the remote, unmuting the TV as if he’d just taken a quick bathroom break, or something.

I laid my head on his shoulder and continued to silently cry as he kept his focus on the film. Neither one of us said a word for several minutes.

“Told them I had covid symptoms, by the way…’don’t wanna put anyone in danger before I’m sure..’ you know…”

“What?” I pulled my head off his shoulder to look him in the eye. He burst out laughing. “I’ll conveniently test negative tomorrow and go back to work.”

#dom!harry #matilda #harry styles #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles fanfiction #dom!harry styles #harry's house #harry styles blurb

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bex-la-get · 3 years ago

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Take Care of You (Ethan x f!MC)

Book: Open Heart

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x Natalie Cusack

Special Appearance: Tobias Carrick

Word count: 2175

Summary: When Ethan falls sick, Nat steps in to take care of him.

Rating: T

Author’s Note: Hi, hello. It’s been a crappy week and I’m emotionally/physically exhausted. So here’s some fluff to counter the bad week. This is unedited, so please forgive any mistakes. Hope you like it. 💙

Ethan never got sick. Ever. Despite working in a hospital, surrounded by sick people on a daily basis, Ethan always managed to stay as healthy as possible. He had prided himself on his strong immune system and seemingly inability to fall ill.

Until today, that is. He woke with so much pressure in his sinuses, he thought his head would burst. Getting out of bed was a feat in itself, as his whole body ached. He sniffled as he made his way to the bathroom and nearly jumped at his own reflection: his eyes were puffy, his nose was red, and his posture was significantly slouched. He tried to stand up straight but only groaned as his body protested the movement. Today was going to be long.

Pushing through, he swallowed a couple of DayQuils with his morning coffee, stuffed some tissues into his pocket, and gave Jenner a pat on the head before sluggishly making his way to work.

Arriving at the hospital, he noticed the looks of surprise and concern that people gave him as he passed. He didn’t know why; it was just a little cold. It wasn’t like he had grown a second head. He rolled his eyes and continued towards the seventh floor, ignoring everyone he walked past.

Finally arriving in the Diagnostics Office, he found himself breathing heavier than normal. As he sat at his desk, he attempted to take a deep breath but instead triggered a coughing fit. He grabbed a nearby Kleenex and coughed hard, his body wracking with the movement. He took a deep breath and coughed one last time before his lungs took pity on him and stopped causing him distress. Ethan groaned and dropped his head into his hands.

“Ethan? You okay, man?” a voice said.

Ethan looked up to find Tobias looking at him with concern. He hadn’t even heard his old friend come in. He nodded and sighed. “Yeah; just a little under the weather today, is all.”

“If you’re not feeling well, you should probably go home,” Tobias suggested. “There’s no point in pushing yourself to further exhaustion.”

Ethan shook his head. “I’m fine; I just need the DayQuil to kick in.”

Tobias pursed his lips then clicked his tongue. “If you say so; Nat’s not gonna be happy to see you like this though.”

“See who like what?” the aforementioned doctor asked as she walked into the room. Natalie looked to Tobias first then Ethan, her eyes widening. “Woah, are you okay?” She quickly made her way over to Ethan and rested the back of her hand to his forehead.

He weakly brushed her hand away. “I’m fine, Nat. Just a little under the weather.”

“I’d say more than a little; you look terrible!” She exclaimed. He frowned and she gave him a small smile. “Sorry babe, but it’s true.”

“I also walked in on him having a serious coughing fit a moment ago,” Tobias said. Ethan glared at Tobias but the latter deliberately avoided eye contact with him, choosing to look at his phone instead.

Natalie gently placed her hand on Ethan’s cheek and turned his face towards her so she could look at him. He watched as her eyes scanned his face and knew she was trying to figure out how sick he really was. He both loved and hated how well she knew him sometimes. “You should go home, Ethan.”

“I’m fine,” he argued. “I already took some meds, they just need to kick in.”

She pulled out her stethoscope and pointed it at him threateningly. “Go home or I’ll admit you.”

Tobias coughed back a chuckle and Ethan raised an eyebrow. “You do remember I’m your boss, right?”

She nodded as she put the headset into her ears and placed the cold chestpiece against his chest, making him jump. “You’re my boss, my boyfriend, and now, my patient. Breathe in.”

“Nat, this is ridiculous--” he argued but stopped when she glared at him.

“Breathe. In.” she repeated. Shaking his head in reply, he did as she said and found taking a breath was difficult. He fought the cough he could feel bubbling up but to no avail; thankfully, however, this cough was not nearly as violent as the last one. Nat pulled the chestpiece away and nodded. “Yeah, you’re a mess. You’re going home.” He opened his mouth to protest but she held up her hand. “Don’t argue with me on this. You’re in no state to work, let alone be around other sick patients.”

She pulled out a prescription pad, scribbled something down then turned to Tobias and handed it to him. “Tobias, can you send this down to the pharmacy so they can get it filled? I’ll pick it up when it’s ready.”

He nodded and took the form. “Sure thing.” He turned to Ethan and smiled sympathetically. “Get better soon, Ethan. Nat’s not as fun to be around when she’s in charge.”

Natalie rolled her eyes and smirked as Tobias made his way out of the office. She turned back to Ethan and softened her gaze as he frowned and sniffled. She caressed his cheek with her hand. “I love you.”

His frown shifted to a small smile. “I love you too.” He sneezed.

“You see why I’m sending you home, right?”

He sighed and nodded. “Yeah; I do. I hate being sick. I always feel so useless.”

“You are still human, my love; and humans get sick from time to time. It’s normal.” She crouched in front of him and took his hands in hers. “I’ll come over after my shift and make you some soup, okay?”

“You don’t have to do that--” he weakly protested.

She shook her head. “I want to; let me take care of you, baby. Please.”

Sighing, he nodded and stood, bringing Natalie up with him. He reached for her but hesitated as he didn’t want to make her ill. She smiled at him and stood on her tiptoes to place a gentle kiss on his forehead. “Go home and get some rest. I’ll be there in a couple hours.”

He nodded. Sighing, he left the hospital and made his way home, his head in a fog for most of the journey. After safely arriving home, he changed into some more comfortable clothing, with the intention of getting some work done on his laptop; but the bed looked just so inviting. I guess I could lay down for a few minutes, he thought. Gently, he laid on the bed and closed his eyes. Five minutes is all I need. Within seconds, his body relaxed and he began to emit quiet snores, work completely forgotten.

-------------------------------------------

Several Hours Later

Ethan woke to the muffled sounds of the television and someone shuffling around in his kitchen. He groaned and got out of bed, padding his way to the source of the noise. As he exited the bedroom, he was greeted with the various sights of onion, tomato, and meat that were cooking on the stovetop. Unfortunately, due to his stuffed sinuses, he could barely smell anything but he presumed it was heavenly.

“Hi,” a voice said. He turned his attention to the source and smiled as Natalie approached him, throwing a hand towel over her shoulder. “How are you feeling?”

“Not great,” he replied, truthfully.

She gently brought his forehead to her lips as she judged his temperature. She hummed as she pulled away. “You’re warm.” She turned around and grabbed a small box out of her purse then handed it to him. He looked it over appraisingly, realizing this must be the prescription Nat wrote out earlier. “Take one of these now; it should lower your fever and help you feel better. Go get comfortable, the soup will be ready soon.”

“You didn’t have to do all this, Nat,” he began.

“Of course I did,” she said, cutting him off. She rested a gentle hand on his back and guided him towards the sofa. “Now, relax and get comfy. I’m almost done.”

Ethan did as she said, plopping down on the couch. He opened the prescription box and took the prescribed medication as Jenner trotted over and rested his head in his master’s lap. Ethan patted the pup’s head soothingly, giving him a tired smile. “Has she been giving you orders today, too?” he asked.

“Unlike you, Jenner is a spectacular patient,” Nat answered from the kitchen. “He’s been very good and even earned himself a few treats for being so good.”

“Did you, now?” Ethan mused, looking down at Jenner. The pup, none the wiser to the conversation happening about him, simply wagged his tail and gave his best doggy smile to his owner. Ethan chuckled. “Good dog.”

Taking the remote, he flipped to the Classic Film channel and sunk lower onto the couch. He felt his body begin to shiver and grabbed the nearby throw blanket, covering himself with it. “God, this is awful. I hate being sick.”

“I know, my love,” Nat soothed. “But the meds I gave you should help. They just need time to kick in. And,” she walked over and placed a bowl of hot soup in front of him on the coffee table, “this should help too. It’s an old family recipe of Dani’s. It works wonders.”

“Speaking from experience?” he asked, leaning over, letting the steam from the hot bowl wash over his face.

Nat nodded. “Yep. Both Dani and I got the flu within a week of each other when we were still living together. She made this soup for us and we both felt better almost immediately. I’m convinced it’s got magic powers.”

Ethan chuckled. “I’ll take your word for it.” He pulled the coffee table a little closer to the couch and smiled at Nat. “Thank you for making this.”

“You’re welcome,” she said, returning his smile. “Now, eat. I’ll be right there.”

Lacking the energy to argue, he did as she said, bringing a spoonful of the hot soup to his lips. Within minutes, Ethan felt the hot liquid warm up his body, which had been starting to feel cold. Nat smiled as she joined him with her own bowl, nodding in approval as he steadily ate.

Nat filled him in on what he missed at work while they ate, which hadn’t been much, thankfully. Their new patient wouldn’t be admitted for another week so the team had just done some prep and research today but nothing else beyond that. Ethan asked a few questions as Nat explained but otherwise, remained quiet through their conversation. Nat raised an eyebrow, suspicious. “You’re being unusually cooperative. What’s the matter?”

He chuckled and placed his near empty bowl on the coffee table. “Nothing. I’m just feeling a little drained, is all.”

“Mm, I’m not surprised. When you get sick, it hits you like a freight train.”

He frowned. “Thanks.”

Nat chuckled and settled deeper into the couch. She opened her arms and gestured towards herself with her fingers. “C’mere.”

Needing no further invitation, Ethan maneuvered himself into Nat’s embrace, covering them both with the throw blanket he had still been wearing. As he relaxed in her arms, he wondered aloud, “Aren’t you worried about getting sick?”

She hummed. “Nah. But even if I was, it wouldn’t stop me from being here.” She ran her fingers through his hair. “I would take care of you, anytime.”

He looked up at her and smiled. “Thank you, Nat. You’re too good for me.”

“No, I’m not,” she replied, smiling. “We’re just the right amount of good for each other.” She kissed his head. “Can I get you anything else?”

He shook his head, tightening his hold around her midsection. “No. Just you.”

“I’m right here,” Nat reassured.

“Love you,” Ethan murmured, his eyes fluttering closed.

“I love you too. Now, rest.” She gently leaned over and took the remote from the coffee table.

“Don’t watch the next episode of Bake Off without me,” Ethan said, his voice drowsy.

Nat chuckled. “I wouldn’t dare. When you’re feeling better, we’ll pick up where we left off.” When he didn’t respond, she glanced down to find that Ethan had fallen asleep. Smiling to herself, she turned on an old favorite film of hers and watched, while running her fingers up and down Ethan’s back.

It would be a few more days before Ethan was back in top shape; but Nat took care of him the entire time. From bringing him food to ensuring he rested instead of working, Nat took better care of Ethan than he had ever done himself when he had been sick in the past. He’d never been so well taken care of before, and it made him all the more grateful to have her in his life. He’d always hoped she’d take over the DT for him one day; and after the way she cared for him, he knew the team would be in the best possible hands. And so would he.

Tag List (let me know if you want to be added or removed): @genevievemd @jamespotterthefirst @paulfwesley @ethansdique @openheartfanfics @perriewinklenerdie @little-flowers-on-heaven @stateofgracious @coffeeheartaddict @liaromancewriter @potionsprefect @mm2305 @gryffindordaughterofathena @actuallybored @writer-ish @queencarb @takeharryandgo @lsvdw-blog @itsjustwinter @chaoticchopshopheart @ohchoices @maurine07 @oldminniemcg @parisa-kh @shanzay44 @uberamsey @izzyourresidentlawyer @adiehardfan @custaroonie @mia143 @a-crepusculo @takemyopenheart @toadfrog26 @quixoticdreamer16 @barbean @headoverheelsforramsey @natureblooms24 @jerzwriter @crazy-loca-blog @dorisz @thegreentwin @cryomyst @kalinahonore @choicesficwriterscreations @rosebudde @trappedinfanfiction @custaroonie

#bexwritesstuff #ethan ramsey #natalie cusack #ethan x natalie #ethan x mc #open heart mc #open heart fanfics #choices fic writers creations

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sonoftatooine · 3 years ago

Text

Whumptober 2021

DAY 3: ‘STICKS AND STONES MAY BREAK MY BONES BUT...’ - ‘WHO DID THIS TO YOU?’

Characters: Padmé Amidala, Anakin Skywalker

Warnings: Implied abuse, scars, panic attack

Summary: Continuation of my AU where raised as a Sith Anakin saves Padmé from execution by the Separatists (first two fics here and here). Having managed to get a wounded Darth Vader medical attention at a remote facility on Polis Massa, Senator Padmé Amidala tries to figure out what their next move should be with the threat of her unlikely saviour’s Sith master looming over their heads.

***

The bright lights of the medcenter on Polis Massa were harsh and white, casting its sleeping patient in pale shades so stark that, if not for the tentative grip Padmé had on his hand, she might have mistaken him for a ghost. The Sith assassin Darth Vader, so feared amongst the Republic and the Separatists alike, looked so very young and fragile swaddled in blankets and bandages and surrounded by beeping machines. Cheekbones too sharp, eyes shadowed, and skin a waxy white, he looked far too ill and tired for a man who couldn't possibly be any older than twenty-one. His blond hair, drying in a halo of soft fluffy curls about his head and still smelling faintly of bacta from his time in the tank, made him look almost...innocent. Angelic even.

The rest of him told a very different story.

The flight from the Separatist world that had been intended as her grave to the remote medical facility on Polis Massa had practically torn her nerves—even hardy as they'd always been—to shreds. It had turned out that she had perhaps been a little too optimistic when she had suggested flying Vader's ship back to his location in the canyon she had been forced to leave him in. She had, however, found both a speeder bike and a med-droid inside to bring back to him. By the time they had reached him, he had barely been conscious, slumped in front of the rocky wall she had propped him up against with the promise she would be back soon, his face white and his lips bloodless. Between her and the droid, they had wasted no time in loading his limp form onto the bike, getting him back to the ship's little medbay and flying offworld, setting a course for Polis Massa. But through it all, she had been afraid. Afraid, as she spoke to him quietly all the way through hyperspace, trying to keep him awake when all he wanted to do was slip into sleep and the danger of never waking up again. Afraid that he would not make it to the medcenter. That he would die because he had risked his life to protect her.

She had been afraid even after they had landed on Polis Massa, and he was rushed away into surgery. She had been afraid right up until the point that the droids had come out to inform her that he was stable, and that they were putting him in bacta for a time to accelerate his healing. But her relief had not lasted for long. The droids had had a long list of other...concerns that their programming told them it was their duty to report.

Not least of which was the map of scars across his skin that she had been informed were most likely caused by injuries sustained through some form of electrocution. Some as new as to have been inflicted not more than a few weeks ago. Others years old.

Years old and he was barely even an adult.

Who did this to you?, she had thought, her eyes tracing the wicked patterns along his back and chest—along his shoulders and arm, running down to where the metal of his black and gold prosthetic met with flesh—as he hung suspended in the bacta tank. The freshest of them had already started to heal along with the wound in his shoulder, but the older ones had been carved into his skin long ago. He had looked too thin, too brittle—even though she knew well the wiry strength he possessed—amidst the eerie blue-green glow of the liquid. Was it your master? Sidious? Is that what the Sith do to their apprentices? Make them hurt, make them suffer, until they rule them absolutely by fear? But you defied him. You defied him to save me. Why risk that for my sake?

She couldn't help the niggling sensation in the back of her mind that there was something about all of this that she was missing, some crucial piece of information she had heard or seen but had managed to slip through her fingers. That she wasn't asking quite the right questions. But there was only one question that was rattling around in her head right at that moment, and all of the others would just have to wait.

Who was Sidious?

It was one of the several reasons that had stayed her hand from attempting to contact anybody in the Republic before her unlikely saviour had woken back up. She knew—definitely now—that the mysterious Darth Sidious was Vader's master. He had referred to him as such to her guard during her rescue, and even if he hadn't, the fact that the man hadn't at all questioned that the young Sith must have been carrying out Sidious' orders would have been clue enough. She also knew from that incident that the name was enough to induce terror even in his so-called allies. And she knew from the Jedi that he was suspected to have infiltrated the highest levels of the Republic's government, and had some sort of influence in the Senate. How powerful exactly that influence was, she didn't know—she hoped it wasn't insurmountable; she needed to believe it wasn't insurmountable, that the Sith hadn't corrupted everything she was fighting for, everything she had dedicated her life to—

But no matter how great or how slight it was, it was there. Which meant that, logically, Sidious must be a politician himself or—more likely—someone in a significant politician's circle. And that in turn meant that, no matter how desperately she wanted to, she couldn't fully guarantee Vader's safety in the Republic.

And so here she sat, by his bedside, his limp flesh hand held gently in her own, and her mind racing through possibilities as she waited for him to wake. If she were to bring him to the Republic, if she could persuade him to plead for asylum before the Senate or—no, the Jedi, there must be a way to keep him safe from Sidious. He must know who his master was—if he exchanged that information for protection, then they could root out the man and his associates before he had the chance to strike back at his apprentice, and surely that, along with his rescue of her, would count for something amongst them. Yes, the Senate took a dim view of Separatist operators, and the Jedi an even dimmer one of the Sith, but if he were to help them take down their greatest enemy in the Republic, that would have to be enough—

Her train of thought was cut off sharply as she felt a slight movement under her touch. Vader was waking up.

"Vader," Padmé called, watching as he shifted about on the bed, his brow scrunched up in a sleep-softened frown as he was dragged back in the waking world. "Vader."

The young Sith groaned quietly in protest at the sound of her voice. His hand slipped from her loose grasp and travelled up to his face to rub at his still closed eyes. It was an oddly endearing sight, seeing him do something as normal and as simple as struggle to wake himself up after a long sleep. But nothing about this was normal—or simple—and she would do well to remember that.

"Wha...?" Voice hoarse and faint, Vader trailed off as his eyes finally peeled open, taking in his surroundings with no small degree of confusion. "Where...?"

Padmé ruthlessly suppressed the urge to gasp. She'd forgotten, briefly, that his eyes were yellow—the only thing, save perhaps for the prosthetic that was currently resting across his stomach, that would have set him apart from any other twenty-something (if, indeed, he had even reached twenty yet) human man had she passed him on the street. The droids had been vaguely concerned about it, she remembered, but they hadn't found any medical reason behind it. Perhaps—she thought back to the Zabrak assassin that had killed Qui-Gon Jinn on Naboo—it was something to do with the Dark Side.

"We're on Polis Massa, remember?," she said once she had stamped down her instinctive reaction. She had told him where they were going back on the ship, assuring him over and over that it would be safe even though he had seemed too out of it to take anything much in beyond the sound of her voice. "I had to get you somewhere nearby that wasn't controlled by the Separatists. It's too remote to be of any interest to them."

Vader blinked at her, still not quite lucid enough to properly guard his expression. She could see the moment he registered exactly who it was that was sitting at her bedside, his eyes widening as his gaze settled on her face. Then, without warning, he shot bolt upright, swaying slightly at the sudden movement so that he was forced to catch himself with both his arms. He winced at the sudden tug on his tender shoulder.

"Don't get up."

Padmé's hand flew to his chest before she could think better of it, attempting to push him back down onto the bed. He let out a startled flinch at the contact, and for one horrid moment, she thought she had accidentally pressed on his healing injury. But her hand was on his sternum, not his shoulder—not brushing against flesh and skin still knitting back together. And yet he had recoiled as if she had burnt him. She drew her hand back sharply.

"I'm sorry" she whispered.

Vader turned away from her. A long pause, and then he nodded stiffly.

"You're not fully healed yet" she said, still apologetic. I'm not going to hurt you. I know someone has, but I promise you, I won't.

"I've had worse" Vader replied. He made no move to lie down, even though his left arm was shaking with the effort of propping himself up.

Yes, Padmé thought, trying to keep the corners of her mouth from turning downwards unhappily. I know you have. But I'm not letting you suffer on my watch.

She reached out to push him back down again, slowly this time. He tracked her movements like a wary loth wolf, an impression that was in no way diminished by the strange yellow of his eyes. This time, he didn't flinch under her touch, though he did hold himself uncomfortably stiff as he let her guide him back down to the pillows. His eyes darted briefly up to her face as she drew back before they flicked down to the IV in the crook of his arm. He frowned.

"The med-droids said that you needed it," Padmé said, in answer to the unspoken question on his face. "They were concerned about your weight."

Secretly, she thought it would have been both quicker and easier to list the things which they hadn't been concerned about. Her heart sank down to what felt like as yet unrecorded depths as she remembered the attending droid informing her that, not only was he currently underweight for a man of his height, but that he showed signs of malnutrition dating back to his formative years consistent with periods of starvation as a child and teenager. Vader, however, barely even reacted to the news that he had been deemed malnourished enough to be pumped full of nutrients intravenously. His attention had turned—fully this time—to their surroundings, suddenly agitated.

"How long have we been here?"

"A little over a day," Padmé replied. "They had to put you in a bacta tank."

Vader hissed through his teeth, his mechno hand untangling from its grip on the sheets to the fast-healing wound on his shoulder.

"They didn't need to do that," he muttered. "A few patches would have been enough—"

"Vader!," Padmé cried incredulously, before she could stop herself. Really, she shouldn't have been surprised, given how baffled he'd been by her own clumsy field care—concerned about her ruining her cloak of all things rather than the heavily bleeding blaster wound that had caused him to collapse to the ground in front of her. She got the impression—more so than ever now that she had seen his scars—that he was not at all used to receiving or accepting care, but if he wouldn't treat his injuries with the proper gravity they warranted, then she was more than happy to do so in his place. "You had a hole through your shoulder. You were barely conscious when we landed. A few patches would not have been enough—"

"We can't stay here," Vader interrupted her, cutting across what was fast becoming—not that she would have admitted it out loud—an impassioned tirade. His breathing, she noticed suddenly, was starting to speed up. "He-he'll have heard— He'll know what I've done—"

"Ssh, ssh," Padmé murmured, her need to make him understand subsumed by worry in the face of his burgeoning panic. She didn't need to ask who this "he" was. His master. Sidious, the man whom she was sure must be responsible for both the pattern of scars on his skin and his unfamiliarity with any sort of simple kindness alike. She wanted to reach out to comfort him, but she didn't know how he would react to her touch. "We're safe. Nobody knows we're here. I promise you we're safe—"

Vader shook his head, his eyes closed tight shut. Both his hands had moved to clutch tightly at the blankets about his chest, the knuckles of his flesh hand white with tension. His entire frame shook as his breaths came sharp and fast. Too fast.

"He'll know—," he gasped out. "He'll find us. He always—"

"He won't find us," Padmé soothed, trying to keep her voice as calm and as gentle as possible. She hoped—oh by the Force, she hoped—that time would not make her a liar. "We're safe here. Please, Vader, I need you to breathe."

The young man's breaths were coming in short, sharp bursts, laboured and painful. He shook his head again, though in response to what exactly, she didn't know. She needed to get through to him, calm him, ease him out of the panic that had caught him in its durasteel grip. But how? With anyone else, she might have taken their hand, tried to get them to breathe with her, but Vader was clearly not accustomed to touch not meant to hurt. What if it just made it worse for him—?

Another sharp gasp was enough to cut through her reservations like a knife. She had to do something. She couldn't just sit here dithering in indecision while he suffered.

"It's alright," she murmured. The tips of her fingers brushed ever so lightly against the back of his hand, enough to alert him to her intentions without—she hoped—adding to his distress. "It's alright, Vader. We're safe. You're safe. I won't hurt you."

When he didn't recoil from her touch, she began to drag her thumb slowly back and forth across his white knuckles, trying to give him something to focus on, to ground him in something other than his fear. After a few long moments, she felt the tiniest bit of tension leave his rigid form as, painstakingly, eyes still closed tight shut, his breathing began to slow.

"That's it," Padmé sighed in relief. "In and out."

Finally, his breathing evened out and he flopped down onto the mattress in exhaustion, his entire form shaking faintly from the adrenaline that had been coursing through his system not moments before. His yellow eyes opened slowly, and for a moment, Padmé could read naked distress on his too-young face. Then his gaze flickered down to where her hand was still resting over his, and his expression shuttered, like a pair of heavy blast doors slamming shut behind his eyes. Jaw clenched, he turned his head away.

"Nobody knows we're here," Padmé repeated, now that he was calm enough to properly take in what she was saying to him. "I made sure the droids would keep it off the record, and I haven't made contact with anyone in the Republic yet."

Her heart hurt seeing him retreat into himself, even though—or perhaps because—she understood it. He'd been vulnerable. He felt vulnerable. Ever since he had been wounded protecting her, he had been relying on her goodwill not to take advantage of that vulnerability. And now, he was surely steeling himself for consequences that she suspected he had been taught, over the years, to instinctively expect.

But despite that, he hadn't yet withdrawn his hand from hers.

"Why?," he said hoarsely, his brows drawn together in a deep furrow. He sounded drained, his tone flat, too tired even for confusion. "You fulfilled your promise to me when you brought us here safely. You could be back in the Republic by now."

Padmé's thoughts flashed back to the canyon they had fled into to escape their Separatist pursuers, of his collapse and her attempts at aid. Of him asking her something much the same as he bled out on the ground in front of her. Why not just run? Why not just leave him and save herself? This question didn't quite offend her like those had—after all, leaving a wounded man in safe hands with medical care was not quite the same as abandoning him in the dust to die. But she was still sure it wouldn't have been right. She owed him her life, and she hadn't been about to repay him by leaving him to wake up alone with nobody but droids for company and the knowledge that he had nowhere to go now that he had betrayed both the Separatists and his thrice-cursed master.

And besides, with everything she had seen since her rescue from her cell, she suspected there was far more to him than just what his reputation across the Galaxy painted him to be. The young man underneath that terrifying mask deserved at least the option of a second chance.

"I wasn't going to make that decision without consulting you first," she said. "We're in this together now. We need to figure out what we're going to do together."

And I'll repeat that to you for as long as you need to hear it.

"Do?" Vader asked.

His voice had flattened out even further, so fatigued, so resigned. As if he had given in before he had even begun. So soft and quiet compared to the deep boom of his mask's vocoder, she could barely comprehend that he was the same man that had struck such terror into her captors, that had fought so ferociously through pain and blood loss and overwhelming odds to get her to safety.

But even if he'd been drained of all his own fire, she had more than enough for the both of them.

"Separatist space isn't safe for you now. For either of us." Her lips drew together in a thin, determined line. "And I'm not leaving you until I know that you're somewhere safe out of their reach. Out of Sidious' reach."

Vader's flinch at the name was an answer to all her unspoken questions. He shrank in on himself, and suddenly, for a man who was over six feet in height, he looked very small. Without warning, Padmé was struck by just how true her words were. That she would do it if he refused to come back to the Republic with her. Would stay with him no matter what, no matter how far from home it took her, because she wanted to give him the same protection he had given her.

"Then I guess you'll have to get used to being glued to my side, because there's nowhere in the Galaxy that's beyond my master's reach," he said. She thought he might have intended the words to come out harsh and sharp, but the tremor in his voice betrayed him. "He's more powerful than you can possibly imagine, and he's not the kind to forgive and forget. I've betrayed him and he'll stop at nothing to hunt me down. Stay with me and you'll have an even bigger target on your head than he's already put there."

I'm not going to leave you alone, Padmé wanted to scream, feeling frustrated tears threatening to well up in her eyes despite her efforts to remain calm. Why can't you understand that? I'm not afraid. I won't abandon you. Not when you're in danger because of me.

"If there's nowhere in the Galaxy that's out of his reach," she retorted, not sharply, but pointedly, "then going back to the Republic won't be any safer for me than staying with you."

Vader's jaw clenched tight at her words, but he said nothing. His throat bobbed up and down as he swallowed thickly. Padmé fought back a sigh, pushing away the last remainders of her frustration as best she could. Gently, she tightened her grip on his hand, still resting beneath her own, in what she hoped was a reassuring pressure.

"Who is he, Vader?," she whispered, finally giving voice to the question that had been plaguing her ever since she had seen his scars, ever since he had heard him speak his name on the Separatist base. "Who is he, if he's that powerful?"

Who is this man that can make someone as strong as you afraid?

"Senator." Vader's lips twisted into a bitter smile, and in it she could sense the echoes of a terrible truth that she could not yet see. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

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resusheart · 3 years ago

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Heart surgery fantasy

This is a fantasy I wrote based on the requests I received after I wrote about my heart surgery. I hope you like it.

I went in to the OR. It was midafternoon, I had performed another surgery that morning together with the attending surgeon. I was still a surgery resident, but not for much longer, I was almost finished with my studies, I couldn’t wait to be the head surgeon, the boss. But, for now, I was the assistant and had to follow my boss’s instructions.

We usually did surgery in small children born with heart defects or on older people who needed a bypass after having had a heart attack. This time it was different, so different in fact, that we were setting up video equipment to record the surgery as a teaching experience in the future. I watched as they mounted the high definition camera in a place where it could record the surgery without blocking our vision at the same time.

I read the file, we were operating on a female, still in her forties. Not a spring chicken, but also, not an old woman either. I could hear her talking to the anesthetist while they were trying to put her under. She was nervous, but we had to be very cautious in what drugs to give her because she had a debilitating neurological condition that made titrating the meds difficult. If we used too much anesthetic she would be intubated for too long, making her diaphragm very weak and this would result in her being permanently unable to breathe by herself.

I could see she was still awake because she was breathing too fast to be asleep, but that changed quickly. She started to close her eyes slowly as the meds worked their magic, then, the anesthetist tilted her head way backwards and begin bagging her with the ambu for about a minute to keep her oxygen levels within the normal range. Then, he inserted the metal blade into her mouth and proceeded to intubate her with a long, endotracheal tube which was then connected to the respirator. Finally, I could see her chest move up and down rhythmically, in deep breaths timed to the hiss and puff sound of the machine. It was now the time for me to come near the table. I greeted the nurses, who proceeded to uncover the woman’s chest. I observed it rising and falling, looked at her skin shining under the OR light. Her breasts were rather large, and still perky despite her age. They were natural, round, soft breasts, not hard plastic ones. I liked them better this way. I kept these thoughts to myself because I could not let my colleagues know that, even in this situation, I felt aroused by my patient.

The nurse sprayed a chlorhexidine solution all over her chest and then proceeded to clean it three times very carefully. Every inch of her chest had to be sterilized before we started the procedure. Her nipples hardened with the cold and when they washed them all around holding the gauze with the pliers, I felt aroused. Fortunately, my PPE covered me completely so nobody noticed.

When she was sterile and all the areas that we would work on had been sterilized, it was time to proceed. I took the scalpel and began cutting from the top of her sternum, near her neck, all the way down to the end of the chest, exposing the bone. Then, with an electrical saw and its high pitched sound, I cut it down the middle, then proceeded to insert the spreader and rotated the handle, to slowly open the chest and be able to see the heart clearly. There it was. A beautiful, beating albeit sick heart. As always, seeing the beating organ made me quiver inside. I enjoyed seeing the EKG, with its black lines, indicating me what the heart was doing, I also loved to see the monitor and hear it’s bip, bip, bip sound, but nothing was better than seeing it like this. The heart beating inside the pleural sack. I proceeded to cut the thin skin of the sack and finally, there it was. The heart muscle, the perfect machine I had dedicated my life to.

I began working on the heart by sowing different colored markers all around it. Identifying which part of the heart is what is difficult when it has lost its shape, so these markers help us identify what goes where when we “put it back together again” after the surgery so to speak. I began by marking the aorta, then continued to mark other things as the apex, ventricles and the last one was the inferior vena cava.

We were ready to begin the longest part of the surgery and the primary surgeon was now ready to get to work. He began by inserting a big tube into the vein that went straight into the right atrium. This tube started diverting the blood from the heart and feeding it into the heart-lung machine, then, we inserted another tube into the ascending aorta. This way, while the heart stood still to allow to perform surgery, the machine would oxygenate the blood and recirculate it to the rest of the body.

At the same time, another doctor began cooling this woman’s body using the mat that was placed under her, to give us time to work inside the heart without causing damage.

The machine started humming, the ventilator was stopped because the blood was being oxygenated elsewhere and we injected a paralyzing solution, that had mostly potassium in it, straight into the heart to make it stop. The solution was ice cold, and we placed special, sterile ice around the heart to keep it cool while we worked on it.

The paralyzing solution was in, the heart beat irregularly three or four times, then it came to a standstill. The clock that measured time on pump was turned on and seconds, then minutes, then hours went by. The silence of the OR was only interrupted by the sound of the machine pumping, while we worked on the heart itself.

On the outside, her heart looked perfect, but it was still swollen because of the endocarditis she had suffered. One morning she was feeling great, by mid-day she fell ill and that night she had been admitted to the ICU with acute sepsis resulting in her heart valves being damaged. A pacemaker had been implanted several years earlier because of her neurological condition, and the wires that connected the heart muscle to the pacemaker’s battery had become coated with infection too, so they had to be removed, and, due to the location and size of it, it had to be done by hand.

When the heart stood still and empty, I took the scalpel and made a large cut, about three and a half inches, right on the heart muscle. The chief doctor then removed the wires softly to avoid hurting the heart even more, one from one atrium and the other one from a ventricle, it was painstakingly slow. We fixed the heart valves avoiding the use of artificial ones and closed the heart again. In total, she was on the heart-lung machine for a bit more than five hours. Eight units of blood had been used at the time, more would be used later. Now it was time to restart the heart.

They began warming her body up with the water mat, we suctioned the ice cold water around the heart and began rerouting the blood back to the heart. Hopefully the heart would start pumping by itself when the warm blood went in, but that was not the case. I began massaging the heart for a bit, giving it time to warm up. It seemed like that wasn’t enough so we injected atropine directly into the heart muscle and it began to quiver, but was unable to pick up the pace as it was supposed to. It shook like gelatin, but didn’t pump blood. The chief doctor placed the paddles on both sides of the heart and said “clear!”, 30 joules made it stand still for a couple of seconds and then, beating erratically, it didn’t work. We had to shock her again. Once more the chief doctor placed the paddles around the heart, hugging it, pressing it a bit tighter and pushed the button. Her whole body shook, I could see her breasts trembling under the sterile sheets and after a couple of seconds, the heart started beating regularly. “Ok, we got sinus rhythm, let´s close her up”, said my boss. So I took care of that part by myself, while he went to the doctors’ lounge. I closed the pleural sack and used a metal grid to hold the sternum back together. Then I closed her chest, making an effort to have her breasts properly aligned. I touched them with my gloved hands several times to make sure they were in the right place, trying to hide the fact that I enjoyed this part very much. This woman, with those large breasts and nipples, might become self-aware of the scars she now has on her chest and feel uncomfortable, but to me, seeing her, with the perfect stitches I just made, the attention to detail placed in the sutures of both the scar on her sternum and on the right side of her chest, in the subclavian area, were her pacemaker used to be, she is hot and beautiful. There are three drainage tubes coming out of the lower part of her chest and a wire coming out of the middle, which leads to a needle placed into her heart that connects her to an external pacemaker. I find this image fascinating and otherworldly. A woman, asleep, with wires on her chest, tubes coming out, like in a sci-fi movie, and the ventilator working. I feel pleased…..and aroused.

We tried to have the patient breathing by herself by the time she left the OR, but she couldn’t, so we transported her to the ICU while ventilating her. I later found out she was eventually able to breath by herself after four days. But for the moment, I have her settled and sedated in her ICU bed. My work here is done. I touched her hand and said goodbye.

It is late at night, the whole surgery took almost seven hours, I need to rest.

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ghostdrew22 · 4 years ago

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Can I request a draco x reader where they just stay together all day even tho its a school day so they just like skip school all day and then one of their friends catch them? It probably sounds confusing but I LOVE YOUR WRITING

Where Words Fall Short || Draco Malfoy

So I changed it into a teacher catching them instead, I hope it still suits your fancy. Thank you so much for this request, I had quite a nice time writing it <3

Requested: Yes Pairing: Draco Malfoy x fem!reader Warnings: mentions of mental illness? Idk what I should be warning you against in this one tbh so if you find anything then let me know <3 Summary: Draco is having a hard morning so Y/N keeps him company and they ditch lessons.

WORDS : 2114

~~~

Growing up, Draco continuously watched as a curtain was drawn above the topic of mental health in his household. What should’ve been long, informative discussions about his withstanding family history and hereditary struggles with mental health, was broken down into, “Your father just gets a bit overwhelmed sometimes”, and “Your mother is a woman, and as women do, she often gets erratic until she tires herself out.”

None of it was true, of course, just excuses used to try and avoid the problem. But it wasn’t discussed. Not when Narcissa would sleep for days on end, or when Lucius was hospitalised, and especially not when Draco began to display symptoms similar to his parents. The family healer was called in, Draco was diagnosed and medicated, and it was discussed no further. Because words were just not the Malfoy way.

You’d long become accustomed to his habits when he wasn’t feeling well, he’d told you himself about his struggles, and you’d adjusted quickly enough. Now you know, just by the sight of him, when he’s having a rough day. As hard as Draco tries to follow in his parent’s footsteps and draw a veil on his suffering, he just can’t bring himself to do it when you’re around. You make him feel safe.

You read the watch on your wrist, 8.10am, and sigh when you notice that Draco’s still not in the Great Hall for breakfast. Draco prides himself on being organised and punctual, so when he’s even five minutes late to breakfast you know that he’s having one of those days and he might just not get out of bed.

“He’s just running late this morning, I watched him walk to the showers.” Crabbe says beside you as he notices worry etch its way onto your features. You nod and smile at him.

“Thanks Crabbe.” You respond before grabbing the empty plate on your other side and filling it up with Draco’s favourites.

It’s another ten minutes before Draco finally walks into the Great Hall, and you feel your heart wrench at the sight of him- hair still wet from showering, faint bags beneath his eyes and a solemn look painting his face- he looks exhausted. You smile at him when he settles into the space beside you and he smiles back, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

He interlocks your fingers together as he sits down and you slide the plate of food toward him. He kisses the back of your hand as a thank you and you nod before turning back to your own food. On mornings like this conversation is sparse- it’s like a useless chore that you can both afford to forget- and you both resort to actions as a means of conversation.

Normally, words would be spent on endless declarations of love, confirmations of support, queries of comfort and insurmountable pleas to just sit in silence together. But now, now with this routine and understanding that sits comfortably on the border of your relationship, words no longer need to transpire between you both in order for there to be a mutual understanding of what you both need.

Most kisses are ‘I love you’ or ‘thank you’, but every so often when Draco paints every square inch of your face in adoration with his lips, then he’s telling you that you’re beautiful, that every piece of you is just another reason for him to fall deeper into love with you. Hugs are usually him begging for attention, trying discreetly to drag you away from whatever it is that you’re doing and bring you down to his dorm with him for cuddles.

But Draco’s preferred method of communication on days like this, is squeezing your hand. Information by hand squeeze increases in degree; one is ‘I’m fine, just tired’, two is ‘I’m probably going to disappear halfway through the day for some alone time’, and three is ‘Please spend the day with me’.

So when you feel that familiar pressure against your hand come in waves of three that morning, you know that he’s having a particularly bad day. You turn to him and nod, and this time when he smiles at you, it actually does reach his eyes.

~~~

When the first lesson of the day is underway, Muggle Studies, you and Draco are lying in his bed in his shared dormitory. There’s a risk of one his roommates coming back to collect a forgotten book or leftover homework, but it matters little when the two of you are spaced out in the small world of your own invention. You’re running your hands through his hair as his head sits comfortably on your chest, and his fingers are running up and down your other arm in an effort to keep him occupied.

The two of you spend the next few hours like that, just lying in his bed in silence as Draco thinks himself into oblivion and you try to calm him down. It doesn’t work though, and at some point you grow frustrated at the amount of tension that he’s built up in this shoulders, and demand that he gets up.

“Why?” He asks with furrowed eyebrows as he lifts his head off of your chest.

“Do you trust me?” He nods, and you smile. “Good, then come on.”

You pull him behind you quietly as the two of you roam the castle and head toward the Astronomy Tower- trying desperately not to arouse suspicion and get caught skipping lessons just as the day is ending.

When you reach the top and see that the sun is shining faintly, a satisfied sigh escapes your lips. All that cold and darkness in the dungeons wasn’t good for Draco and you’d lugged him all the way up here for some sunshine. You know that it won’t really fix anything that’s bothering him, but at least the Vitamin D might lift his spirits a little bit or help him to relax a tad more.

You sit on the ground and pull Draco down to sit beside you. He drops his head against your shoulder and pulls the back of your hand up to his lips, Thank you, is what the action says and you smile at the small acknowledgement. You lean your own head against his that’s resting on your shoulder and he shuts his eyes in content as you pull out the book that you’d brought up to read.

“Should I read to you?” You ask and he nods very softly, so you do as he asks and begin to read the novel out loud.

It’s mundane, sure, but Draco thinks that he could spend the rest of his life like this. When words have always failed him, you’ve been there to pick up pieces of his unsaid ministrations. Most people, if not all the people in his life, have always found his failure to conjure up words and describe his feelings, annoying. But not you, never you, you have always loved the way he tries so hard to show you his love instead of tell it to you. Whenever he feels torn apart, like a rag doll being tugged on both arms, you somehow manage to remind him that he’s made of skin and bone, not cloth and plastic. It’s you that reminds him he’s worth something, even when he feels as though he’s worth nothing.

“Y/N.”

“Hmm?” You respond absent-mindedly as you turn your head slowly away from the pages and toward Draco. When you catch a glimpse of his contorted features, concern washes over you. “What’s wrong? Do you want to go back inside?”

“No, no.” He shakes his head softly and smiles at you. “I just want to chat, is that okay?”

“Well… I was enjoying this book…” You tease and laugh when you see that he’s not amused. “I’m kidding, am’ all yours love.” You peck him on the lips quickly before closing your book and putting it aside.

He sighs, “I’ve been thinking-”

“Oh, that’s never good.” You immediately respond and he narrows his eyes at you which makes you laugh, “Okay, I’ll stop now.”

“You’re lucky I love you.” He says with a roll of his eyes, and a small smile, before he takes a deep breath and continues. “I’m going off my meds.”

You take a moment to digest what he’s said before nodding slowly, “Oh…”

“Oh…?” He raises his eyebrows in anticipation, worried that you won’t support his decision. “Are you mad?”

You’re taken aback by his question and turn to face him in confusion. “Mad? Why would I be mad?”

He shrugs, “I don’t know, mother was furious when I told her.”

“Okay, but your mother is notorious for having the emotional range of a green bean,” Draco, albeit begrudgingly, laughs at your comment with a shake of his head, “What? Am I wrong?” You ask with a laugh as well.

“You’re not wrong but that’s not the point. You’re bloody rude!” He tries to stop laughing but it’s not working and soon enough the two of you are rolling around on the ground, crying your eyes out in laughter.

After a good three minutes has passed the two of you have finally calmed down and the serious atmosphere has returned. “I’m not mad Draco, I could never be mad at you.”

“You were mad that time I tried to force a Ravenclaw to do my Muggle Studies research for me.” He says in a matter-of-fact tone and you shove him lightly.

“That was because you were harassing that innocent child!” You exclaim with another giggle, “I’ve never been mad at you for doing something that involves only you.”

“What about when I dyed all my pubic hair-“

“I told you never to speak of that.” You cut him off sternly before he can continue and a naughty smile appears on his lips at the memory.

“That was funny, admit it.”

“We were on vacation with my parents! Do you understand how awkward the conversation we had, after the swimming pool, was? They were so concerned about the fact that I’d brought home a boy with blue armpit hair!” You exclaim with wide eyes and Draco bursts into laughter again. “You’re such an arsehole.” You grumble out with a pout and he pecks you with a smile.

“You love me though.”

“I do… I really do.” You respond genuinely as you stare at him in admiration. Even on his worst days, when exhaustion wears his face like a mask and words fall short from his lips, he’s still the love of your life and nothing can change that. “I’m really proud of you, for making a decision like that.”

“Thank you.” He sighs and you can tell how much this has been bothering him over the past few days, if not weeks, by the way his shoulders finally relax. “I just don’t think they’re doing what they’re meant to. I don’t feel any better.”

“Mhmm.” You nod at him to continue as you take his hand in your own.

“I don’t feel worse either though, I feel the same. It’s been a year and I feel the absolute bloody same.”

“What are you going to do instead?”

“Whatever else the healer recommends.” He shrugs, “If she’s got nothing else that will work then I don’t know.”

“Well… I’m here for you, always.”

“I know.”

And it’s true, he does know, sure as he knows that he’s a Slytherin. There aren’t many things and people that Draco relies on, the fear of them letting him down always a barrier, but you he puts his absolute faith in. Because when words fall short to describe the amount of love that he has for you, and the amount of love that you have for him, there will always be actions and you two will always have each other.

You take your hands and cup his face in them before peppering kisses all over his face. He giggles under your touch, an effect that you’ve always had on him and he hates, but you make no move to stop until every corner has been graced with feel of your lips. It’s every word that you could possibly say to him, every sentence that could hold the weight of your adoration, because sometimes, words just fall short.

“Y/N-“ He begins when you finally pull away, wanting to tell you that he loves you, but you cut him off with a dopey smile.

“I know.”

The two of you lie down against the cold, hard gravel- fingers intertwined as you both shut your eyes and bask in the soft rays of sunlight. It’s almost perfect.

Until.

“Mr Malfoy, Ms L/N.” A voice drawls.

“Shit.” You mumble when you remember that it’s Wednesday- Astronomy.

<~>

Did I impulsively write this after declaring I’m going on a week’s hiatus to move? Yes. Did I put off packing for this? Yes. Do I have any regrets? Nope.

anyway,

love you all,

jean <3

#Draco #Draco Malfoy #Draco x reader #Draco Malfoy x reader #Draco fluff #Draco Malfoy fluff #Draco angst #Draco Malfoy angst #draco x y/n #draco imagine #draco fanfiction #draco malfoy imagine #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter x reader

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primalsouls · 4 years ago

Text

healing kisses

aether x gn! reader

⚠️ : none

theme : fluff

note: first canon character x reader insert fic lol. i don't really normally write stuffs like this because i always feel ill make the characters too ooc... but hope this one do well. still got a few fic ideas in mind for aether and a couple of other characters. :) thank you for reading! <3

⊱ ──────ஓ๑♡๑ஓ ────── ⊰

After finishing the fourth commission of the day, Aether and Paimon made their way back to Mondstadt to collect their rewards from the Guild and visit a friend for another reward, a tasty one the two hoped. The journey to the entrance of the windy city was short, for the last commission happened to be just around the corner, somewhat a few yards away from the bridge. Just a few hilichurls and mitachurls in a camp that needed to be clear off. It is no surprise the young man managed to get hurt, not severely as he thought but some of the wounds did made him wince with every step he took.

"Paimon hopes [Y/N] could make us some delicious snacks! their cooking skill is amazing!" Paimo said excitedly, earning a look from the blonde outlander. "What? It's true! Your cooking skills comes in second place!" Paimon added and it earned her a light chuckle from Aether as he shook his head.

"[Y/N] does make a perfect Sticky Honey Roast." The traveler commented as the pair walked the brigde, trying to be as mindful as they could for Timmie's birds while they passed by him. Paimon nodded with a hungry look on her eyes, mouth already wettering at the thought of the dish. With her small hands pounding the air in an impatient manner and a frown on her face, she turned to Aether with a pout added in.

"C'mon! Let's hurry up! Paimon can't wait no more!" Paimon exclaimed, already floating ahead towards the gate where the two Knights of Favonius stood guarded on each side. Aether let out another laugh before he took off from his walking pace, an apology being thrown over to Timmie for disrupting the birds once again. He raced behind the floating figure he jokingly called Emergency Food, his own heart beating with anticipation to see his good friend [Y/N], ignoring the amount of sharp pains his body received with each hurried step. Aether waved at the guards before stepping within the city walls. Paimon glared lightly as the traveler as she watched him reached the Guild's stand, a tiny foot tapping the air rapidly, her hands on each side of her waist. "C'mon, c'mon! Paimon's stomachs is getting grumpy!" Paimon told him, hands thrown up in the air to further push her point. Aether rose a brow at the mention of stomachs, still wondering about their conversation of what was weirder from a long ago.

"Okay, okay... Why don't you go wait by [Y/N]'s place and I'll meet you there?" Aether proposed as he turned to Katherine and gave her a quick smile and greetings. He didn't have to wait for Paimon's response as she already disappear from his sight. Sighing tiredly, he looked at the young man, his smile still in place. "Katherine, hello. I'm finished with today's commissions." He said, patiently waiting for the rewards Katherine was about to bring out.

Paimon flew a bit around Mondstadt, grinning widely as [Y/N]'s house came into view. She quickly headed to the front of the house. Paimon looked around for the [color]-haired individual, spotting them nowhere outside their home. Appearing in front of the door, Paimon knocked on the surface as loud as she could, stopping when it flew opened. The grin widen at the sight of her and the traveler's friend.

"[Y/N]! Hi! Paimon's happy you're home!" The floating being said with a bright smile. [Y/N] chuckled at Paimon. Their eyes scanned around the area, standing aside to let her in.

"Hey there, Paimon? Where's Aether?" They asked, closing the door behind themselves. Paimon explained Aether's whereabouts, following [Y/N] to the kitchen where a few plates of snacks where already prepared. "Ah, then it shouldn't take him long to get here." They said with a shrug. Paimon nodded, her eyes shined with glee at the delicious snacks she could smell from her place.

"Yup! And it seem you already got us ready with the goodies! It's like you knew we were coming! What are you? What's that power?" Paimon rambled as she grabbed a Mondstadt Hash Brown from one of the plates. [Y/N] shook his head with a giggle escaping past his lips.

"I just had a hunch you two would stop by. Guess I was right." They replied, blinking when another knock sounded from the door. He walked out of the kitchen, letting Paimon enjoyed the snacks. When he reached the door, another knock came through. Already with the person in mind, [Y/N] opened the door, their smile growing on their face when they saw Aether... slouching slightly with a pained look on his face. Their eyes finally took in Aether's state, eyes widening a bit. "Aether! Oh my Archons, what happened?" They asked as he helped them in. Aether waved his hand dismissively, chuckling a bit.

"Tis nothing but a scratch." The blonde man said with a shrug. Paimon poker her head out of the kitchen, wondering what was all the commotion about. She raised a brow at Aether's arm swing over the other's shoulders, looking like he was in pained. She rose a brow, her head tilted to the side.

"Scratch? It's more than a scratch! You got cuts here and there. And it made look like a small gash, but it is still more than a scratch." [Y/N] frowned, sitting Aether down on the couch. "Stay here, I'll go some stuffs to bandage you up." With no reply, [Y/N] headed to their bathroom, a small yet concern frown on their face. Once [Y/N] was out of sight and earshot, Paimon flew over to Aether.

"What are you doing? You're not that hurt!" Paimon said, her hands on her waist. Aether hushed at her, looking behind him to make sure [Y/N] didn't hear them speak.

"I know, I know... but... I like it when [Y/N] take cares of me... Their touches are so soft and gentle." Aether whispered, smiling longigly at the thought of [Y/N]'s hands brushing up against his skin. Paimon gave him a look before putting the pieces together.

"Oooh~! Someone's got a crush!" Paimon exclaimed as she floated around Aether who waved his hands to quiet down but it was a bit late, [Y/N]'s footsteps could already be heard.

"Who has a crush on who?" They asked, their head cocking to one side as they rounded the couch to seat in front of the outlander on the coffee table. Aether's cheeks were tained in a rosy color, clearing his throat as he and Paimon exchanged looks.

Paimon shrugged, shaking her head as she tried to come up with an excuse. Aether only scratched the back of his head, looking around to stop their friend from looking at the small blush on his cheeks.

"Um... J-Jean! Jean has a... uh, cru-crush on Master Diluc!" Paimon stuttered out and glanced back at the traveler. "R-right, Aether!?" Aether nodded eagerly, wanting to skip the topic already. [Y/N] rose a brow at the false gossip, nodding slowly as they opened the wooded med kit sat in their lap.

"Jean crushing on Master Diluc? Really?" [Y/N] muttered in disbelief, not believing the two but let it slide. Paimon and Aether only nodded, watching [Y/N] take out a roll of bandage. Paimon let the two alone, feeling more hungry than ever. As the two sat in silence, Aether's eyes studied the [hair color] Anemo user. He studied how gentle they tried to be with his wounds, mindful to not press to hard to cause him the wince in pain. It brought a small smile to the traveler's face, the blush he thought was long gone reappeared faintly across his cheeks. He let out a whine when alcohol was rub the last wound, alerting [Y/N]. "Oh, I'm sorry! You're okay?" They asked softly, [eye color] eyes locking with golden-yellow eyes. It took the blonde a minute to respond, having to be lost in their eyes. "Aether?"

Snapping out of it, said man nodder quickly, looking away to hide his ever-growing blush.

"Yeah, yeah... I'm okay. It j-just took me off guard." He said, giving [Y/N] an awkward smile. The individual chuckled as they finished up wrapping the wound, bringing Aether's arm out and closer to their personal space. Their soft lips pressed a light kiss on top of the bandaged area. Such gesture made Aether's heart run a mile over and over. He was sure the blush gotten redder and up to the point of his ears. "W-what?" He stuttered, unsure how to react. Part of him was taken aback by the gesture, the other part panicked as many thoughts ran through his head about the meaning of the gesture.

"My mom used to kiss all my cuts away whenever I get hurt. Said a kiss heals any wounds." [Y/N] explained, smiling fondly at the memories that crossed their mind. Without thinking, Aether pointed at his lips.

"You forgot this wound then." He stated out without a second thought. The words caught [Y/N] off guard, their own cheeks dusted with the same rosy blush that matched almost woth Aether. Their eyes widen in surprise. Aether even caught on into his own words, immediately stuttering out an apology as he tried to come up with a different excuse, but before any words were let out, he felt a pair of smooth hands cup his cheeks and pulled him closer, his lips meeting up with [Y/N]'s in a quick yet sweet kiss. Pulling away, both of them had their blush reddened like a Jueyun Chili all over their face.

"Well, t-there you go... All healed up." [Y/N] started off, eyes casted down at their hands. Aether, now filled up with a bit more confidence, took [Y/N]'s hands in his own.

"I don't think they're healed. They still hurt." To 'prove' his point, he guided the other's hand and lightly tap their fingertips against his lip, acting out a wince of pain. [Y/N] let out a genuine laugh, shaking their head at the outlander's tactics. Aether joined in, their bands still in his, intertwined together.

Paimon sighed as she finished off the last plate, blinking when she heard laughter coming from the living room. Peaking her head out, she grinned widely at the view of Aether and [Y/N] smiling lovingly at each other, chuckling here and there about the traveler's little tactic to get another kiss on the lips from the Anemo wielder. It was about time for the two of them to get together, afterall.

...

"So, was it you who has a crush on me?"

"... Yeah..."

"Heh, such a cutie."

#genshin impact #genshin impact x male reader #genshin impact x gender neutral reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x female reader #x gender neutral reader #x male reader #x female reader #x reader #genshin impact aether #aether x gender neutral reader #aether x male reader #aether x female reader #aether x reader #primal writes

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actress4him · 3 years ago

Note

For Bad Things Happen: could you please do Keith strapped to an operating table with Shiro coming to rescue him? (Ironically the opposite of what happened in canon 😆)

Sure thing! I enjoyed this one, though I wrote the last bit with a fever so I’m hoping it makes sense and the quality didn’t drop.

@badthingshappenbingo

Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender

Prompt: Strapped to an Operating Table

Warnings: human experimentation, noncon body modification, non-graphic amputation, non-graphic mouth whump, emeto, blood mention, death mention, threatened eye whump but nothing actually happens, needles

The first few times, Keith fought against the restraints. Growled at the Druids that stuck needles in him and pulsed magic through his veins. Screamed his anger to disguise his fear, despite the fact that no one listened or cared.

That changed after the first surgery.

When they took his arm, a bit of his defiance went with it. He didn’t have the energy to fight so hard anymore. After all, it had been days with no sign of anyone coming for him, and now there was this thing attached to him that he refused to acknowledge as his own.

He didn’t know how Shiro did it. How he just...accepted something of hers being part of his body. Used it like it was nothing, like it had always been there. Like it hadn’t been crafted specifically for him by the witch who took pleasure in torturing him.

As the experiments dragged on, he still snapped his teeth at any fingers that strayed too close to his face. Still glared his hatred at the emotionless masks that hovered over him.

But he remained silent. Stoic. Stopped rubbing deep rivets into his wrists and ankles, pulling on metal straps that had no give. Haggar noticed the change, smirked that infuriating smirk and commented on how much better behaved he was.

He couldn’t fight anymore, but he wouldn’t let them see how he was crumbling to pieces inside. Only once he was returned to his cell did he allow himself to curl into a ball, metal arm laying out as far away from his body as possible, and let his thoughts run wild.

Why haven’t they come for me?

They’re not coming for me.

They shouldn’t come for me.

I don’t want them to endanger themselves.

I can’t keep doing this.

I want to go home.

The second major procedure wasn’t quite as bad as the first, though when the choices were ‘amputation without meds’ versus ‘teeth removal without meds’ it wasn’t really something he wanted to dwell on comparing.

A metal contraption was shoved into his mouth, the crank on it turned until his jaw was forced wide open, and Haggar herself took out both his upper canines and replaced them with what he’d find out later were fangs. She tended to lurk in the background while her Druids carried out the tests from day to day, but she took over the major stuff herself. Keith wasn’t sure what was worse, having to stare at the Druid’s masks, or at her ugly face. At least with the Druids he couldn’t tell that they were actually enjoying the whole thing.

And he didn’t have to worry about her seeing when a few tears slipped down to his temples.

That night in his cell he accidentally bit his tongue, his lip, then his tongue again with the sharp new fangs. He wanted to scream, wanted to rip them out with his bare hands, but he was too much of a coward to go through that pain again. She was turning him into something he didn’t want to be. She was making him look like...like them, like a monster, like the half of his biology that had enslaved and murdered so many people, the half that he tried so hard to pretend didn’t exist.

What will Shiro and the others think when they see me again? Will they even recognize me by the time she’s done with me?

Are they even coming?

It’s been so long. Has to have been over a week, at least.

Maybe it really is better if they don’t come at all.

The next experiment they ran made him violently ill. He really couldn’t afford to lose any of the sparse food they gave him, he’d already lost so much weight. The only good news was that they were forced to cut the testing short that day, dumping him back into his barren cell to fend for himself.

He was so tired. Tired of being there. Tired of being poked and prodded and cut and changed. His body was flagging, all of the substances they’d injected him with and the blood he’d continuously lost taking its toll.

He wasn’t sure how much longer he was going to last. If the team was coming...they might be too late.

After that day of puking his guts out, he no longer even had the energy to glare or snap. He let them drag him to the lab, shove him onto the table, and pin him down with all the many restraints without so much as a sound, and stared up at the ceiling doing his best to ignore what was being done to him. All of his fighting now went into keeping the tears he could feel burning his eyelids from escaping.

Shiro...I’m sorry. I tried to stay strong. You should...you should just forget about me.

More time passed. By Keith’s best guess it had been a few weeks since he’d been captured, but he’d kinda stopped bothering to count. They strapped him down to the table again, and he didn’t even really care until Haggar appeared above him.

She was going to take something else from him.

How much more, until he was no longer himself at all?

“Such unusual eyes,” she croaked, dragging a far too sharp fingernail across his cheekbone. “More advanced than Champion’s, for sure, but still nothing like they could be.”

Dread crawled up Keith’s throat and stuck there, making it difficult to breathe. “No,” he whispered. “No, please, don’t…”

A smile lit up her face. “Ah, he finally begs. I’ve been wondering what it would take.”

He didn’t even care anymore. “Please don’t take my eyes, please.”

“Oh, don’t worry.” She turned to the side, busying herself with tools. “I’m only taking one for now.”

He was gonna be sick. Panic blared in his mind, burning his chest and throat and eyes...his eyes, his eyes. He’d never really liked them all that much. They were a weird color, not normal, an outer indication of how different he had always felt.

But he didn’t want them to be taken. He was...he was gonna end up looking like Sendak, wasn’t he? The thought only increased the pressing nausea.

He turned his head to the side, sure he was about to throw up, when an alarm began wailing out in the corridor. Red lights flashed overhead, and he squinted against them, confusion taking over his panic. Haggar and the Druids suddenly hurtled into motion, snatching up tools and gathering around the table, but their frenzy was interrupted by the door slamming open and more people pouring inside.

The next few moments were chaotic. Keith couldn’t lift up his head enough to see what was going on, but he heard the familiar enough sounds of fighting and dared to hope. That this was finally over, that someone had come for him, that he wouldn’t have to lose anything else, after all.

“Stop!” Haggar screeched. Her hand fisted in his hair, and his breath caught. “You really don’t want me to inject this into your precious Paladin. You see, I’ve been saving this for a later experiment.” A sharp point grazed the side of his neck. “Pure quintessence. What will it do to him? Even I don’t know. Quintessence is a tricky thing. I’m hoping it will bring out more of his superior lineage. But it could very well turn him feral.”

“Haggar. Don’t.”

That was Shiro. Shiro. He was really there!

“Then drop your weapons,” she hissed.

No. He was so close, so close! “Sh-shiro, please…”

“It’s okay, Keith. It’s gonna be okay.”

The silence was so thick that he could hear Shiro’s arm power down, hear two different bayards return to neutral and clatter quietly to the floor. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing the tears to stay put.

The crack of a gun split the air.

Keith’s eyes flew back open, but he barely saw Haggar jolt and disappear through the sudden pain stabbing through his neck. He screamed, and he didn’t know how much of it was from pain and how much from fear.

Shiro materialized over him, and he would have laughed aloud from relief if he hadn’t been shaking so hard. “Hey bud, it’s okay. You’re okay now.”

“N-no, no, get away, get back, get away from me. You can’t…” Keith sobbed. “I don’t wanna hurt you, you have to leave me.”

“We’re not leaving you,” Shiro replied firmly. “Look.” Gently, telegraphing his movements, he reached for the syringe and pulled it out of Keith’s neck, eliciting a whimper. Then he held it up for him to see the golden liquid. “She didn’t get to actually depress it, see? You’re good. You’re safe.”

Safe. A feeling that he’d never thought he’d have again. Shiro was here, running his hand through his greasy hair, and the others were cutting through the restraints, and it was over.

Except that it never really, truly would be. “Shiro, she...she…”

“I know.” He pointedly didn’t look at the arm and the teeth, but they were there on display for everyone to see. “It’s gonna be okay. We’re gonna get through this, okay? Together.”

He was free now. No more metal restraints. No more Druids or Haggar. Shiro gathered him up into a huge hug, and it was the best thing he had ever felt in his life.

“Okay,” he whispered, tears running down his cheeks and the front of Shiro’s armor. “Together.”

——————————

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sophwrites00 · 4 years ago

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Saved - Hank Voight

Request : @mcgreads : Hey can I request a Hank Voight and reader where the reader is younger and apart of the unit and her and Voight are together as well as her being best friends with Casey and she's with Platt during that episode where she' on the T.V. interview and the bomb goes off and Voight is worried and giving out orders as not only his bestfriend is in there but also his girl and he communicates with Casey as well. Lots of fluff in the end please❤

Please forgive me if the lines aren't said by the correct people I have the transcript but it does not tell me who said what so I am going off memory!

Word Count - 1733

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You work as a secretary at the front desk of District 21, you had been working there for a few months when Trudy asked if you would go to an T.V interview with her, having not wanting to go alone and embarrass herself

Walking up the stair to intelligence you dropped their mail off to them and made your way into you boyfriends office closing the door behind you

Walking over to him you sat your self down in his lap and rested your head on his shoulder

"Trudy and I are going to leave soon" You informed him as he wrapped his arms around your waist and pressed a kiss to your forehead

"Be safe please" he said while resting his heat on top of yours

"I will I promise" You reply looking him in the eyes he leans down and you two share a kiss that was interrupted by a knock on the door

The door opened reveling Trudy

"Hey Voight is Y/N in here" She asked with out looking up from her file

"Yep right here" he replied as you sit up in his lap

"Oh good it's time to go, I'm driving" She said then turned and walked out

"Alright ill see you later when we get back" You say giving Hank one last kiss and taking his brown leather jacket with you before leaving

--------- At the interview ---------

You and Trudy had just gotten to the news station where the interview was being held, walking onto the interview set Trudy was taken to a seating area to starts the interview

"I'm so excited to be here today with Trudy Platt" the host says as Trudy sits with a smile, before Trudy could reply a beeping sound is heard through out the studio

"What is that" one person asks

--------- Before the explosion at 21 ---------

"Platts on in two. Everyone! Adam!" Kim yells

"Antonio, come on" Kim said

"We're not staying, I'm gonna do paper work at home" Antonio said looking up from his desk for a split second

"Hey, Eva. What's up, kid" Adam said as he walked out of the hallway

"My father's a fascist" she replied

"Okay, I don't know what to do with that" Adam says surprised

"Okay, everybody be quiet" Kim said "Platt's on TV.

"Betty's sitting down to discuss the new friendly face of the Chicago PD" the producer said

"What friendly face is that" Jay joked

"Betty" the producer said

"Thank you Shri, I'm so exited to be here today with Sergeant Trudy Platt, from the 21st District" Betty said

"She couldn't possibly hate this more" Adam joked

'It's my pleasure, I'm hap-I'm happy to be here." Trudy said with a big fake smile

"I wonder what Y/N's doing and if she's laughing as hard ass we are" Erin chimed in

"Is everything okay?" Trudy asked as they all heard a beeping

"I think that's coming from my office" Sheri said before an explosion went off

"What the hell happened" Kim said as they all grabbed their coats and things before making their way to the News Station with their boss who was pissed more than ever

--------- Back at the New station Y/N's POV ---------

"Sheri, Sheri hey stay with me" Trudy said

"All the exits are blocked we're stuck" I said coughing slightly

Trudy looked up scared then looked around the room

"Okay we are going to go into the back room and wait for help, and everything will be okay, because we are getting out of here" Trudy said while dragging Sheri's barely conscious body into the back dressing room

As Trudy and I made it into the dressing room I noticed a sink and check if the water was running, which it was, I grabbed 3 rags and soaked them in water then handed Trudy two of the

"Sheri, are you still with me? Sheri, come on girl stay with me, Stay with me Sheri" Trudy said while trying to get Sheri to keep her eyes open

I sat on the floor next to Trudy slightly panicking when heard people walking and yelling

"Fire department. Call Out" I looked to Trudy and started to yell

"Here, we're in here" I yelled as many time as i could before i started coughing again

The door swung open and revealing Mouch, Kelly, and Matt

"Okay lets get you ladies out of here" Kelly said while picking Sheri up while Mouch help Trudy and Casey helped me

"Are you okay are you hurt" He said going into protective friend mode.

"I'm okay" I said while coughing, matt picked me up bridal style and carried me out the building

"Hank" I said when I seen my boyfriend who looked more pissed than ever, once he heard me he rushed to Casey who was helping me stand

"OH thank god" Hank said relived to see me

"You're going to med" Hank said with Matt agreeing

"We don't need any more surprises today" Matt said

"Hank you take her, ill try and meet you both later I got to go" Matt said to his two closest friends as he turned to go back into the building with his squad

--------- Third person POV ---------

Hank rode in the back of the ambulance with Y/N to the hospital, holding her hand the whole time

At the hospital Y/N was put into a trauma room and checked over thoroughly as she was close to the blast

"Okay you seem to have no major injury's, I am going to do some blood work, and put you on some oxygen for a few hours to get your levels back to normal, but other than that you seem fine and should be able to go home by tonight" Dr. Halstead said

"Thank you" Y/N replied before Will left

"You should go back to work, ill be okay" Y/N said to hank as she laid her head back onto the pillow and looked up at Hank

"No I should be here with you" He protested shaking his head

"I'll be okay I will call you if I need anything you should be out there helping your team" Y/N said

"Fine but i will be back to check up on you soon" Hank said

"Okay" Y/N said with a small smile, Hank pressed his lips to hers and left, soon after Will came back into the room

"Okay your blood work is back" Will stated "You both look good, try and keep it easy for the next few days, no heavy lifting for at least a week" He said

"Wait both" Y/N said

"Oh, you didn't know. Congratulations, Y/N your pregnant" He said with a smile "I'll have Nat come in for an ultrasound to see how far along you are" he stated before being called out for another trauma

Matt walked into the room still in his turnouts

"Hey peach, how are ya?" He asked with a smile

"I'm okay" Y/N said with a small smile

"I have a request though" Y/N said with a big smile looking at him

"what?" He said looking at me suspiciously

"Chick-Fil- A" Y/N said with puppy dog eyes

"Your lucky I like you, ill see what I can do" He said before kissing my head and leaving

Nat came in a little while after and we did the ultra sound and Y/n is 5 weeks pregnant, soon after Nat left both Hank and Matt walked in

"Hey baby" Hank said as he kissed my head

"I came with your food but I cant stay long" Matt said holding up the fast food bag

"Yay thank you" Y/N said happily, they all sat for a while and talk, later on Matt left and not long after Y/N was discharged she and Hank made their way home

Y/N sat on the couch and put her feet in Hanks lap letting him rub her feet

"Hey, We need to talk" Y/N said moving her feet from Hanks lap and moving closer to sit next to him

"What wrong, Hun" Hank asked worriedly

--------- Y/N's POV ---------

"So I got some news after you left the hospital earlier" I stated looking at Hank " and it's good news depending on how you take it and if you don't take it good then I don't know what I'm going to do be-" I said rambling only being cut off by Hank

"Hey, hey, hey take a breath and try to calm down alright" Hank said while pulling me into his lap, taking a few deep breaths I was able to calm down

"I'm pregnant" I said looking into his eye's

"A-Are you sure" He asked looking at me with hope, I nodded and he pulled me close to his body

We stayed like that for a while and I could feel my self falling asleep in the warmth of Hanks arms

I felt Hank lift me and carry me to our bedroom he laid me down and got in bed next to me, that night Hank's arms felt tighter around my waist and I could feel his hand resting against my still flat stomach

The next morning Matt had come over for brunch and we told him he was over the moon to become an uncle just as Hank and I are over the moon to become parents

--------- Authors Note --------- Aaahhh I finally finished this story and I am proud because I have worked so hard on this request over the past week! If you find any typo's please let me know I did my best to fix them as I went!!

Thank you for reading have a god day/ night love ya byeeeeee

#hank voight imagines #hank voight x reader #hank voight #matt casey #chicago med #One Chicago #Chicago Fire

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