#i was sick as soon as the new year started and then i had appendicitis and now this. hmm | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

whumpsmith-participates · 4 months

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Medwhump May 2024

Day 18 - Appendicitis

TW: organised crime, (backgrond) character death, poisoning, fever, faining, vomit

@medwhumpmay

Jonas was a punctual person. Or at least he tried to be. Working as a consigliere he had to be. Any imperfection could be seen as a sign of weakness, and any sign of weakness could be seen as an invitation to attack, and any attack posed a threat to his livelyhood.

So when he woke up with a fever one morning, he couldn't just simply call in sick. He had to show up and show everyone that everything was still in perfect working order.

"Jonas, you're late, that's so unlike you!"

Tito dabbed at his mouth with his napkin, having just finished his breakfast when Jonas walked in. Usually he was already there before he even started eating, briefing him on his schedule and any important news from his organisation.

"I apologise," Jonas said, "traffic was abysmal, more so than usual."

"Oh thank goodness," Tito said, "I was beginning to worry the feds had finally gotten to you."

"I would've sent them straight to you, sir," Jonas said, booting up his tablet and opening Tito's schedule.

"That's my boy," Tito said, "we can do the usual ritual while we climb to my office."

Tito's office was located on the highest floor of his manor, the many stairs acting as a deterrent for any intruders, and a way to exhaust visitors so they would think twice before trying anything to harm the head of their organisation.

Having worked for Tito for years, Jonas wasn't usually too bothered by the stairs, not to mention he could always take it easy while Tito huffed and puffed his way to the top, not having the same stamina as pretty much all of his staff.

Today, however, he found himself out of breath too, struggling to keep up with Tito of all people, while climbing the stairs and talking at the same time. Tito noticed right away. Normally Jonas was only one step behind him, but today he was about two or three steps behind and dropping a lot of pauses in his sentences to catch his breath.

"Jonas, are you alright?"

Tito stopped walking, turning back to face his assistant. Jonas simply pulled a hand through his hair before clearing his throat.

"I'm fine," he insisted, "where was I? Oh right, after the meeting with the chiefs, your wife scheduled the rest of your afternoon for family time— For your daughter's cello recital."

"Oh yes, I'm sure she'll play wonderfully," Tito said, continuing up the stairs. Jonas followed, beginning to notice a stinging pain in his lower abdomen, but he could see the guard by Tito's office leering at them, so he put on a strong face and kept up with Tito as he always did.

It was even more important to keep it together during the meeting with the chiefs. They could be considered upper management, important cogs in the machine that kept their organisation running. Important, yet not irreplacable.

Jonas doubted any of the chiefs would have the guts or even the ambition to make a move if he was only a little bit feverish for once, but today's meeting wasn't anything standard, no. Tito had called a meeting to keep them in line, revealing right off the bat that one of them had betrayed him. He gave them the usual speech about trust and disappointment, before ordering the loyal chiefs to restrain the soon-to-be ex-chief.

That was Jonas' cue to open the terrarium behind Tito's desk, catching one of the small, colourful frogs with a pair of tongs and holding it up for everyone to see while Tito explained in gruesome detail what the frog's neurotoxin would do to the traitor.

The older chiefs knew what to expect and what to do, using the traitor's own belt and necktie to tie him to his chair, cutting the buttons off his shirt and pulling it open before taking a safe distance as Jonas placed the frog on the traitor's knee.

He pleaded, apologised, begged for another chance, but Tito didn't even respond. He simply discussed the options for his replacement with the other chiefs, while the frog slowly crawled around on the traitor's leg before it suddenly hopped onto his bare chest.

Jonas retrieved the frog when the man began choking, indicating that the poison was doing its work. He put it back in its terrarium, throwing in a handfull of extra ants as a treat for the frog to hunt after. He was glad his back was facing the room when the pain in his lower abdomen suddenly came with a strong wave of nausea.

He briefly lost track of the conversation, but composed himself in time to pick it back up. Tito instructed the remaining chiefs to get rid of the body, before asking Jonas for a suggestion on what to do with him.

"We could send him to his family so they can bury him," Tito mused, "unless you have a better idea, Jonas?"

"...send him to his successor," Jonas said, "let the way he handles this be his first test."

"Or hers," Tito chimed in.

"Whatever you say, sir."

He watched the remaining chiefs drag out the corpse, waiting for the door to close behind them before loosening his tie a bit and taking a deeper breath than normal.

"What's next on the agenda?" Tito asked obliviously.

"Lunch," Jonas said, "you insisted to go downstairs for lunch, for your health."

"Me and my good ideas," Tito sighed, before getting up from his desk.

Jonas held the door open for him, and closed it behind them, turning to follow Tito down the stairs, but the motion dizzied him, and he had to pause before he would fall down the steps. Maybe while Tito was having lunch he could find someplace private and lay down for a moment, but for now he had to endure the pain and vertigo and make it down the stairs in one piece without falling behind too far.

Which was easier said than done.

Tito noticed Jonas was falling behind again, turning back to check on him, only to see him clutching his stomach and leaning on the railing more than usual.

"Jonas? Are you alright— Good grief!"

He gasped as his assistant suddenly collapsed and rolled down the stairs, and the next one, and the next one... Each guard in the vicinity was alerted by Tito's reaction and the noise and rushed to his aid. Tito didn't hesitate as he quickly and carefully hurried down as well.

"Don't move him!" he said, "call an ambulance! Check if he's breathing, only move him if necessary!"

He had his frogs in the back of his mind. Jonas knew how to handle them, but was there a chance he had accidentally been exposed to their poison? One of the guards carefully checked Jonas without moving him, only for Jonas to start moving himself, convulsing once or twice before coughing up a handful of bile.

"I have to clear the airway, sir," one of the guards said, before rolling Jonas on his side, "he's burning up too— Is this an assassination attempt?!"

"I'm afraid I don't know," Tito said, "just make sure he keeps breathing while we wait for the ambulance— You had a first-aid class, right?"

"Yes, sir," the guard said, "and you're right, it's the best we can do until help gets here."

"Good, good— Oh goodness!" Tito said, turning away as Jonas threw up again. At least that confirmed it wasn't the frogs...hopefully. He just had to trust they'd be able to figure it out at the hospital.

Taking a lil break from the dynamic duo to bully their nemesis instead :3

Masterlist Main account

#medwhump may #day 18 #vv #jonas #tito #unnamed guard nr 1 #unnamed guard nr 2

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hext00ns · 2 years

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Can’t Take the Heat {@sicktember}

AO3 l!nk in comments

Ships: Phoenix/Miles / Phoenix & Maya, Maya & Miles

Rating: G

Warnings: None

Description: Phoenix’s fever knocks him on his ass. Quite literally, in fact.

{Sicktember 2022 Day 17: Syncope / Fainting}

Phoenix was used to being sick. It was actually a pretty regular occurrence for him. He wasn’t nearly as prone to it as he was when he was a child but the near routine colds still happened throughout the year. It still didn’t make them any easier.

Whatever current ailment he had was especially kicking his shit in.

When he’d woken up that morning he felt his muscles practically scream bloody murder at him. Despite Maya’s constant heckling, he wasn’t that old so the pain was definitely a red flag from the get go. However, it wasn’t enough to really incapacitate him so he got ready and left for the office.

The rest of Phoenix’s morning was the same as usual. He got to the office early and started collecting his files for his current case. He had a trial that morning and with the soreness of his muscles, was really hoping it would be a quick one.

Maya came in soon after with two warm cups of what Phoenix assumed was hot chocolate. It was a bit colder out lately with the seasons changing over so the warm drink would normally be welcomed. Unfortunately, as he moved around and prepared for trial, the ache in his body wasn’t the only thing causing him worry. A simmering head started to creep up on him. It was mostly centered on his face but as the heat grew he felt it crawl down his neck and to the rest of his form.

It wasn’t too uncommon to overheat in a three piece suit in LA. Though normally that was on a hot summer day when the air conditioning was busted. Not an early morning in the start of winter. Still, even with the oddities, he had a trial to go to and could fret over it all later.

He declined Maya’s breakfast hot chocolate, grabbed his files, and guided them both out the door. He wanted this day over and done with. The longer he stayed standing the more he realized just how exhausted he felt. He’d slept all through the night hadn’t he? He was almost sure he had.

It didn’t take him too long to realize he was probably sick. It was terrible timing but he just grabbed a mask and hoped he could hold out till noon at the least. When Maya questioned what was up with him as they made their way into the courthouse he only shrugged and mumbled something about feeling under the weather.

“I mean if you’re sick, can’t you ask to hold the trial for, like, a day or something?”

Phoenix gave a half-hearted snort at that. “Yeah right. With the three day system they have now, I don’t even think they’d pause a trial if I walked in sporting appendicitis.”

Maya stuck her tongue out with a frown. “That’s dumb,” she complained, putting emphasis on the ‘b’.

Phoenix only chuckled at her. “That’s the legal system.”

“I say we rip it down and make a new one.”

He did give a full laugh at that. “You and me both.”

They got into the courtroom and Phoenix started flipping through his things to make sure everything was accounted for and prepared. He reached up to wipe off sweat from his brow when he caught eye with the trial prosecution.

Miles Edgeworth met Phoenix’s eyes and gave him a nod in greeting.

Phoenix returned it with a half smile and a small wave. He was glad it was Miles on this case. They made a pretty good team, if he was honest.

When the trial started it was pretty average. His client was on trial for possibly killing a 7-11 worker during an armed robbery. Where the armed robbery was definitely his client’s doing (and he would face the consequences of those actions later) the murder however was a completely different occasion. Phoenix was sure of it. All he had to do now was prove it.

Normally, providing it wouldn’t be that hard. But today he didn’t particularly feel very normal. In fact, the heat that had started up had only gotten worse. Despite the unprofessionalism of it, he found himself pulling off his overcoat and rolling up his sleeves midway through a testimony.

Maya tugged on his shirt to question if he was alright only for Phoenix to brush off the concern and insist he was fine.

However, he really didn’t feel all that fine. He felt more like his body was slowly melting like overheated gelatin. Which was actually a pretty gross analogy now that he thought about it. Though his thoughts of feeling like a gross puddle of sugar were cut short when the Judge called out to him to ask for his cross-examination.

Phoenix straightened out what was left of his suit to try and save at least some face. He stepped around the bench and started his examination. The witness seemed a little sketchy. He wasn’t sure if it was just for the obvious fact that she was hiding something or if it was one of those instances of a murderer on the witness stand. Either way, he was ready to get to the bottom of it all.

Unfortunately, as he walked around and spoke he felt his body weaken. Words were becoming more difficult to grasp properly as he spoke. Within only five minutes, he found himself gripping the side of the defendant's bench as discreetly as he could. Apparently, it wasn’t as discreet as he would have liked.

“Wright,” called Miles from across the room, “are you feeling alright?”

Phoenix looked over to him. Almost surprised that he would interrupt court proceedings to ask. “I’m fine,” he attempted to reassure. “Just,” he stopped. The dizziness was getting to him and fast. He put a hand to his head. Was it the heat? He could have sworn it was just a fever. He hadn’t felt nearly this bad earlier. He turned to look at Maya, about to say something. He wasn’t sure what, just anything that could possibly help whatever was happening. Unfortunately, nothing came out. Instead he felt his body moving closer to the floor and heard someone (or multiple people?) calling his name before everything went black.

---

The first thing he noticed were voices.

“-Dead!”

“He’s not dead, Maya.”

“Even worse! He’s dying.”

“Will you please step back? He’s overheated from a fever. Not dead or dying or whatever else.”

It didn’t take a rocket scientist to tell both who was with him and what had happened just from that conversation alone. The second thing he realized was that he was on his back and there was something cool and damp being repeatedly pressed against his forehead. It actually felt amazing. It was sweet relief from whatever the hell had been plaguing him.

When he finally peeled his eyes open it was to the concerned gazes of Miles and a fretting Maya peeking over his shoulder. Phoenix pulled himself to sit up and noticed he had been brought to the defendant lobby to lay on the bench.

Miles and Maya, who were both crouched next to him, moved back to give him more room.

“Good to see you’ve woken up quickly.” Miles nodded to him.

“We thought you were dead!” Maya yelled dramatically.

“No we didn’t,” Miles quickly added, dead-panned.

Phoenix gave a weak smile to the both of them. He ran a hand over the back of his neck with a sigh. “Guess I wasn’t as fine as I thought I was,” he admitted.

“No,” Miles agreed with a sigh. “You weren’t. How do you feel now?” he questioned as he stood. Maya quickly following suit.

“Better. Not by much but enough,” Phoenix replied honestly.

“Hopefully well enough to get home, yes?”

“What about the trial?”

“I got them to postpone it,” Miles explained.

“How the hell did you do that?”

Maya turned on her heel and sat next to Phoenix with a little hop. “Mr. Edgeworth has ways,” she explained, giving little magic hands at the last word.

“Uh, right,” Phoenix mumbled, pretending to know what that meant.

Miles snorted at that. “In reality it just took convincing the Judge which wasn’t that difficult.”

“Sometimes I think you and the rest of the prosecutors’ offices have that man wrapped around your collective pinky.”

He only hummed at that. “Nothing nearly that nefarious. I merely told him that the case couldn’t continue without its defense properly prepared and we should be given an extra twenty-four hours to mend it.”

“Great, so he thinks I’m the one at fault,” Phoenix mumbled. “Still. An extra day is a lot to get so, thank you.”

Miles nodded. “Of course. If you need, I can also escort both you and Ms. Fey back to your office?”

“Hell yeah!” Maya called with a fist pumped into the sky. “Ugly sports car ride!” She threw herself off the bench and ran towards the doors.

“Wha- ugly?” Miles hissed out, baffled.

Phoenix only laughed as he got up and pulled Miles to follow her.

#ace attorney #wrightworth #phoenix wright #miles edgeworth #maya fey #sickfic #sicktember #sicktember 2022 #fan fic #fan fiction #mywriting #im a forgetful little bug and thats that #at least they’re all getting posted on the correct days on AO3 #i just have mush for brains

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morganaspendragonss · 3 years

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First off I just want to say that I LOVE all of your Owen and TK fics. Prompt: I would love for TK to end up like really sick(fever,vomiting, dizzy spells) and try to hide it from everyone but then for him to get worse and it turn out to be appendicitis and Owen being super worried and protective of him throughout the whole ordeal. Once again I think that you are an amazing writer!!

thank you for the prompt and your lovely message! i’m so sorry for the long wait, but i hope you like what i came up with!

@911lonestarangstweek day 4: Sickfic + “You need to rest.”

ao3 | 2.2k

“Are you okay, son?”

Owen frowns over at TK, sitting across from him at the dinner table. He keeps his voice low to avoid catching the attention of the rest of the team; TK would probably kill him for ‘causing a scene’, and then Owen would never get to the bottom of what’s going on.

And something is, that he’s sure of. Whilst the others are all wolfing down the pasta dish Paul cooked up, back-to-back calls leading to near starvation, as Mateo put it, TK has barely touched his food, electing to simply push it around the plate. He’s quiet too, not joining in on the conversations going round the table, and he’s been looking off all day. That Owen has seen, anyway, and he’s also caught Tommy sending worried glances in TK’s direction multiple times. If it weren’t for the knowledge that TK would likely bite the offending hand off, Owen would definitely reach over to check his temperature; his skin is noticeably flushed and there’s a light sheen of sweat on his brow.

TK doesn’t appear to hear his question, continuing to ineffectually stab at pasta shapes, so Owen leans closer, daring to wave a hand in his face.

TK blinks in surprise. “What?”

“I said, are you okay? You look sick.”

He rolls his eyes, looking back down at his plate. “I’m fine.”

Owen raises an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well, for starters, you haven’t eaten anything,” Owen says, pointedly staring at him, letting him know his charade hasn’t gone unnoticed.

TK huffs and sets his fork down, pushing the plate away. “I’m not hungry.”

Bullshit.

“Since when are you not hungry?”

“Since now, Dad!” TK snaps, glaring at Owen. He flushes and drops his eyes when his outburst earns him several raised eyebrows, but he still doesn’t give in, instead grumbling another, “I’m fine.”

The thing is, Owen knows that TK probably thinks he is fine. TK’s always had a tendency to downplay his own illnesses and injuries, to the point where he’s even doing it to himself, which has resulted in more ER visits and emergency doctors’ appointments than Owen cares to remember.

So, much as he would love to believe his son, all the evidence points to him being very much not okay. Owen’s about two seconds away from calling Tommy over when TK’s face changes, his breathing suddenly becoming very carefully measured.

“Son?” he asks, reaching across the table to lay a hand on TK’s arm. The second he makes contact, however, TK violently shoves away from the table, chair legs scraping noisily on the linoleum.

“Bathroom,” is all the explanation he gives before rushing off, very obviously unsteady on his feet.

Owen watches him go, torn between wanting to follow and wanting to give TK the chance to admit defeat himself. He’s worried, but he knows that if he keeps pushing, then TK’s just going to be even more stubborn about it. He sighs and shakes his head, returning back to his meal, TK’s untouched plate mocking him in his periphery.

But when ten minutes have passed and TK still hasn’t reappeared, Owen feels a sick sense of dread start to creep in. There’s no reason for him to have been gone this long unless something is seriously wrong, and Owen’s not about to wait any longer to find out what.

He stands up, glancing pensively up the staircase before heading up there himself, trying to stave off all the worst case scenarios flitting through his mind. Maybe TK just went to lie down for a bit? It’s possible, though Owen knows it’s more than likely not the case. That would be too simple.

His fears are confirmed when he turns the corner leading to the bathroom. TK is hunched over in the doorway, white-knuckled grip on the frame, the other arm wrapped around his abdomen. He’s staring sightlessly into the middle distance, apparently not even noticing Owen as he approaches, and Owen can hear how heavy his breathing is from across the room.

“TK?” he calls, worry only spiking when TK gives no indication of having heard him. This is bad; Owen runs to the balcony, thanking god that Tommy is still down there with the rest of the team. “Captain Vega!” he calls. “A little help up here?”

Tommy’s instantly moving, clearly picking up on the urgency in his tone, and Owen spares a single moment of relief. Unfortunately, it’s short-lived; when he turns back around, time seems to slow as he watches TK’s grip on the doorframe loosen, his feet shuffling forward tentatively before letting go altogether.

TK stays upright for barely a second before he crumples to the floor, collapsing in an undignified heap. Owen breaks into a run, reaching TK just as he’s trying to push himself back up. He doesn’t seem to have lost consciousness, which Owen is thankful for, and he’s a little more lucid now, but he’s turned incredibly pale and there are tight lines of pain around his eyes.

“TK, what’s going on?” he demands, keeping a hand firmly on his son’s shoulders to keep him on the floor. “And don’t give me any of that ‘I’m fine’ crap; I just saw you collapse, so you’re going to have to do better than that.”

TK groans, the effort it takes for his gaze to focus on Owen seemingly Herculean. “Thought it was just a stomach bug,” he mutters. “That’s why I didn’t say anything. Then I got this really bad pain”—he waves a hand over his abdomen—“and I had to come up here to be sick. When I tried to come back down I got really dizzy - my vision blurred, there was this really loud ringing in my ears - I guess you saw all that.

“The blurriness has gone now but the pain is still there, so I’m thinking it’s probably -”

“Your appendix.” Tommy’s voice cuts through TK’s, and Owen looks up to see her heading towards them, medical bag in hand. She tuts as she kneels next to them, shaking her head ruefully. “Really, Strand? Hiding something like this on the job?”

“In my defence, Cap,” TK says, something like a smile on his lips, “I really didn’t know until just now. I was only a little feverish before, so I thought it was nothing.”

“Until it wasn’t,” she admonishes, but there’s an undercurrent of fondness to her tone. She presses down on TK’s abdomen and he hisses in pain, Tommy’s face growing serious. “TK, did you have any pain before what happened just now?”

“A little,” he admits. “But then it went away so I forgot about it.”

Tommy curses. Owen glances over at her anxiously, not liking the worried expression on her face. “What is it?”

She looks at him grimly, rising to her feet and heading for the stairs. “I can’t be certain, but it means his appendix might have already burst. Check his pulse.”

Owen does, feeling a little sick himself as the implications of Tommy’s words sink in. TK’s pulse is fast which, judging by the less-than-happy expression on her face when Owen reports it, isn’t a good sign.

“He needs to get to the hospital, now.”

Owen’s foot taps out a repetitive rhythm on the waiting room floor, earning him several reproachful looks from hospital staff and other visitors. He pays them no mind, though; it’s been ages since TK was wheeled away for testing and surgery, and his patience is stretched thin.

He knows it’ll be fine, logically. Appendectomies usually are, though there’s the added complication of TK’s appendix maybe having already burst, because apparently they can’t have any good luck for a change.

It’s just… It never gets any easier, seeing his son in the hospital. Even if it’s just for something as simple as a broken bone, of which there have been a few over the years. But, as Owen is reminded when he hears the hurried sound of feet coming towards him, he doesn’t have to do this alone anymore.

He stands as Carlos reaches him, his eyes wide and worried - perhaps more so than the situation warrants, but Owen’s not about to judge him for that.

“What happened?” Carlos asks, not giving Owen a moment to respond before rushing ahead. “He looked a little flushed this morning but he told me he was fine and I believed him. I’m sorry, Captain Strand, I should have pushed more -”

“Carlos.” Owen holds up a hand, laughing a little. “Take a breath, son. And, how many times, call me Owen.”

Carlos flushes, breathing out shakily before slumping into a chair by Owen’s side. “Right,” he mutters. “Sorry. How is he, though?”

Owen eases himself back down into his seat, his knees cracking noisily in protest. He sighs. “He’ll be okay. I’m still waiting on the doctor to come out and tell me more, but he was admitted a while ago, so hopefully that’ll happen soon.”

Carlos nods, leaning his head in his hands. Owen watches him with a faint smile on his face; he’s always known how much TK and Carlos care for each other, but seeing it first-hand just reaffirms the knowledge. It’s all he’s ever wanted for his son - someone who loves him just as much as he loves them.

“You know,” he starts, “you’re the first boyfriend TK’s ever had who’ll willingly come and wait at the hospital for hours. I appreciate you being here.”

Carlos stares at him, uncomprehending. “I… I’m the first?”

Owen nods; Carlos shakes his head in disbelief. It’s strangely heartwarming, this display of indignation on his son’s behalf, and Owen couldn’t be more grateful for Carlos’s presence. He goes to say something else, but then they’re interrupted by the arrival of a doctor, smiling reassuringly at them.

“Mr Strand,” he greets, raising a questioning eyebrow at Carlos. “And…”

“This is Carlos Reyes, TK’s partner.”

“Ah.” The doctor nods, looking back down at his clipboard. “The good news is, the surgery went well. We’re getting him set up in a room now; I’ll take you to see him in a moment.”

“Is there bad news?” Carlos asks nervously, having clearly picked up on the same thing Owen had.

The doctor grimaces. “Unfortunately, his appendix burst before he arrived, so there is a significant risk of infection. We’ve put him on a course of antibiotics and he’ll have to remain here for at least the next week to make sure there are no unexpected complications.”

“He’s gonna love that,” Carlos jokes, and even Owen has to smile, knowing just how right Carlos is. He’s still worried, and the doctor’s news has only increased that, but it’s easier, having someone else with him who’s just as worried.

They’re soon taken to TK’s room, Owen letting out a sigh of relief as he sees him awake, though his expression is tight with pain. He’s beyond proud of TK for how far he’s come in his recovery, and Owen knows that this is what he needs to do, but it’s not any easier to see his kid hurting.

“How are you feeling, son?” he asks, taking a seat next to the bed. Carlos dithers for a moment before TK sends him a look, and he settles himself gingerly on the edge of the bed, almost absent-mindedly taking TK’s hands in his own.

“Like crap,” TK answers, apparently too tired for his usual ‘I’m fine’ routine. “Could be worse, though.”

Owen hums in agreement; that, at least, can’t be denied. It’s difficult to top getting shot and spending days in a coma.

They talk for a little while, but then TK starts yawning and his eyelids begin to droop, despite his very obvious effort to keep them open. Owen laughs at him, shaking his head fondly.

“Alright, son, we get the message,” he jokes. “I’m leaving.”

“No, it’s okay -”

“TK,” Owen interrupts. “You need to rest. I’ll come back and check on you tomorrow.”

TK huffs, but he’s clearly too exhausted to protest any further, letting Owen place a kiss on his brow as he stands. Carlos moves to join him, but TK draws the line there, clinging on tight to his hands.

“I…” Carlos sends a helpless look to Owen, but he just shakes his head.

“I wouldn’t argue, Carlos,” he says. “I’m sure you know as well as I do how clingy TK gets when he’s sick.”

“Do not,” TK mumbles, but it’s offset by the way he’s currently attempting - incredibly unsuccessfully - to pull Carlos down next to him.

Carlos huffs a laugh at that. “Sure you don’t, love.”

TK swats clumsily at him, and Owen can’t help but smile at their interaction. It’s clear they’ve all but forgotten his presence, so he starts to creep towards the door, only to stop and look back when he gets there.

“TK?” he says sternly, drawing their attention. “Remember - rest.”

TK rolls his eyes and Carlos flushes darkly, attempting to stammer out a response. Owen takes pity on him and walks away, grinning to himself. Not too long ago, he wouldn’t have dreamt of leaving TK after major surgery, but things are so different now.

Owen knows TK has all he needs already with him. And that is the most important thing.

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4stars-uswnt · 4 years

Text

Love Heals All Wounds (and Embraces Scars) [Binoe x Daughter!Reader]

requested by anon: Could you do something with binoe the first time they have to pick their teenage daughter up from school because she’s sick?

warnings: mention of surgery and scars

A/N: congrats to the Storm on winning the WNBA championship!! and SBird for her FOURTH **insert goat emoji**

“Megan!” Vlatko calls from across the field, waving the forward over to the sidelines.

Megan passes the ball back to Tobin, abandoning the drill and making her way over to her coach.

“What’s up, coach?”

“Sue’s been trying to reach you for the past ten minutes. Here, she called me.” He holds out his phone, which Megan takes and puts up to her ear.

“Sue? What’s wrong?”

“It’s (Y/N). The school called and said she wasn’t feeling good. They took her to the nurse’s office, but apparently she’s writhing in pain. I’m on my way to pick her up right now. Do you think you can get out of practice and meet us at home?” Sue explains, worry evident in her voice.

You had been adopted by Sue and Megan when you were 14 years old, after they found you living on the streets. You didn’t have the best childhood, bouncing around to different foster homes and group homes, eventually running away to fend for yourself, which is where your moms found you. Although you are now 16, your moms still see you as their baby, and therefore are very overprotective of you.

“Oh my gosh. I’ll be right there.” Megan quickly hangs up the phone, handing it back to Vlatko. “Coach, I really need to go. It’s (Y/N). She’s really sick, and Sue’s going to pick her up from school.”

“Of course, go.” Vlatko nods, knowing how much you meant to the forward, having met you on many occasions.

Megan rushes back to the locker room, gathers her things, and runs to her car. Thank goodness camp was in Seattle. As she drives on the highway, breaking a few speed limits, her phone rings.

“Babe, I’m on my way to the school right now.”

“Change of plans.” Sue tells her girlfriend. “They had to take her to the hospital. They think it’s appendicitis.”

Megan feels her heart drop, and she clenches the steering wheel. “Okay. I’ll meet you at Virginia. I love you.”

“I love you, too. See you soon.” Sue responds, ending the call.

After winding through traffic and speeding through yellow lights, Megan finally arrives at the hospital. Running through the doors, she approaches the reception desk.

“Hi, excuse me. I’m looking for (Y/N) Bird-Rapinoe.”

The receptionist scans the computer and then glances up, an apologetic look written across her face. “I’m sorry, but she’s in surgery right now.”

“Okay, can you at least tell me what room she’ll be in? Or where I can wait for her?” Megan anxiously taps her fingers on the counter.

“I’m sorry, ma’am. I don’t have that information.”

Megan could feel herself becoming impatient. “But——”

“Megan!” Sue calls from down the hall, spotting her girlfriend. The pink-haired woman speed walks towards where Sue is sitting.

“Sue, what’s happening? They wouldn’t tell me anything, except for that (Y/N)’s in surgery.” Megan nervously runs her hand through her hair, as she takes a seat next to the other woman.

“Her appendix is extremely swollen, so they’re removing it and getting rid of any possible infections.” Sue grabs Megan’s hand, squeezing it reassuringly.

“My poor baby.” Megan pouts, leaning her head on the basketball player’s shoulder.

Sue wraps her arm around her girlfriend. “She’s a strong one. She’s a Bird-Rapinoe after all.”

At that, Megan lets out a little chuckle, smirking. “That she is.”

—————

“Excuse me. Are you the parents of (Y/N) Bird-Rapinoe?” The surgeon approaches the two women in the waiting area.

“Yes, we are.” Sue confirms, while Megan nods her head.

“The operation went smoothly, and your daughter is going to be okay. She’s just got out of surgery, so she’s still asleep, but I can take you to her room, if you’d like.”

“Yes. Thank you.” Both Megan and Sue let out a sigh of relief and stand up to follow the doctor to your room.

He opens the door for your moms, allowing them to enter. “I’ll give you some time with her, and I’ll come back a little later once she’s awake to review the recovery process. She should be waking up soon.”

Megan and Sue thank the doctor and take their places on either side of your bed.

“She gave us a real scare, didn’t she?” Megan huffs.

“(Y/N)’s always keeping us on our toes, that’s for sure.” Sue chuckles.

You had always been independent, given your childhood, so adjusting to having parents was a little difficult for you. It took you some time to abide by their rules, learn to communicate with your moms, and eventually open up and be comfortable with them. Not only that, but naturally, you were an outgoing teenager, constantly trying to new things, which would often lead to a worried Megan and a nervous Sue. Your moms were still recovering from the time you did a Sam-Kerr-esque goal celebration, landing a successful backflip after you scored a hat trick.

“Moms?” You croaked, moving to sit up.

“Don’t try and sit up, (Y/N/N).” Sue gently guides you back onto your pillow.

“Here, kiddo, have some water.” Megan hands you a cup. You take a couple of gulps, soothing your sore throat.

“What happened?” You furrow your eyebrows. “The last thing I remember is being at school, and my stomach wasn’t feeling well, so they took me to the nurse’s office.”

Sue takes your hand in hers, soothingly rubbing circles on the back of your hand. “You had appendicitis, honey, so they had to remove it.”

“You mean I had to have surgery?” You cringe at the thought of another scar.

“Yeah, kiddo.” Megan gives you a sympathetic look, taking your other hand.

“Ugh.” You groan, throwing your head back into the pillow. “Just what I needed, another scar. They’re so ugly.” You mumble out the last part, squeezing your eyes shut, willing away your tears.

Sue caresses your cheek and wipes the tears that leaked down your face. “Honey, look at me.”

You sniffle and face your mom.

“(Y/N), your scars aren’t ugly. They are beautiful.” She whispers. You go to protest, but Sue gives you a stern look, one you’re all too familiar with. “They tell your story and show how strong you are. They remind you of how strong you are and all of the times that life tried to break you down but failed.”

By now, you and both of your moms are smiling with misty eyes.

“I guess so.” You mutter. “I love you, mom.”

“I love you too, sweetie.” Sue leans down to place a soft kiss to your forehead.

“Hey! What about me?” Megan teases.

“Of course.” You roll your eyes, a grin playing across your face. Your face softens, as you speak earnestly. “I love you.”

Megan gives you soft smile and leans down to give you a hug without hurting you. “I love you too.” She whispers in your ear.

A knock on the door interrupts the sentimental moment, and your doctor enters the room.

“I hope I’m not intruding, but seeing that you’re now awake, I thought I’d go over your procedure and your recovery process with you.”

“Sure.” You nod.

He explains the surgery he performed and the timeline and procedures of your recovery. He then looks to your moms, explaining what they should do about your bandages as well as the technicalities of insurance and all that boring stuff.

“Any questions?” He concludes.

“Yeah, how long do I have to stay here?” You ask.

“(Y/N)!” Sue exclaims.

“What?” You turn to your mom, confused.

“You literally just got out of surgery.” She exasperates, causing the doctor to chuckle.

“We’d like to keep you here overnight for observation, if that’s alright with you?”

“That’s perfect.” Megan confirms, as you grumble under your breath.

“Alright, some nurses will come change your bandages, and I’ll be back in a few hours to check up on you.” He says, as he heads to the door.

“Thank you, doctor.” Sue calls out after him.

“Why do I have to stay here?” You whine. “I feel fine.”

Megan raises her eyebrows at you, amused. “Really?”

You nod your head.

“Okay, then try sitting up.”

Determined to prove your moms wrong, you move to sit up, but immediately wince at the pain in your side. Laying back down, you let out a frustrated groan.

“Ha. That’s what I thought.” Megan boasts, as she pulls your blankets back on top of you.

You feel your eyes starting to get heavy, your medication kicking in once again.

“(Y/N/N), go to sleep.” Sue gently coaxes.

“But I wanna be with you guys.”

Your moms’ hearts melt at your words, and the two women share a smile.

“We’ll be here when you wake up.” Megan reassures.

“You promise?” You mumble drowsily, your eyes fully closed at this point.

“We promise. Now sleep, honey.” Sue squeezes your hand.

“Love you guys.” You whisper before completely falling asleep.

“We love you too, (Y/N).”

#uswnt x reader #uswnt imagine #uswnt imagines #binoe x reader #binoe x daughter!reader #uswnt #wnba #megan rapinoe #sue bird #binoe

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13uswntimagines · 4 years

Text

Tater Tot Emergency (Soran x Child!Reader)

Request: I was wondering if you could do a soran imagine with the reader as their kid but the team doesn’t know and their kid is very sick with like cancer or something along the lines of that

Authors Note 1: So I changed this request up a little bit because I felt really uncomfortable writing about cancer. It brought up some really bad feelings and felt really heavy, so i changed to appendicitis instead.

Authors note 2: I’m not sure how i feel about this one, but i hope you enjoy it. Let me know what ya think or hit me up if you have ideas or just want to say hi.

Emily and Lindsey loved camp. They loved seeing their team, and they loved playing footie. Yet, they weren’t as excited to be there as they usually were. Instead, their minds were more focused on a little girl just down the road hanging out with Lindsey’s mom for the duration of the camp. A little girl that had been in their life for just under a year, who they had never been away from before. They had heavily debated taking you to camp, but in the end, it was decided that meeting the entire team (besides Kelley who had been there during the adoption process), would be a little too overwhelming for your tiny body. They weren’t hiding you, they just didn’t know how to break the news to the rest of the girls.

“Mom said that she finally got the tater tot to go down for a nap,” Lindsey sighed, sitting heavily on the bench next to Emily, who wrapped her arm tightly around Lindsey’s waist.

“How was her fever?” Emily asked, leaning her head on Lindsey’s shoulder and eyeing the various pictures your grandmother had sent them. It sucked to be away from you in general, but right now it sucked all that much more because you were sick. You had come down with what they thought was a stomach bug, and all they could do was pray that it passed soon.

“Holding steady at 101, and she couldn’t get her to eat,” Lindsey grumbled.

“Did she try giving some to Roary first?” Emily laughed, grabbing Lindsey’s phone and examining the picture of her little one cuddled up with her stuffed Triceratops. You didn’t do anything without Roary, and your moms had used that to their advantage several times.

When you didn’t want to eat your veggies, well Roary loved broccoli. When you didn’t want shots, Roary went first to show you that it wasn’t all that bad. The two women would be forever grateful to your Aunt Kelley for getting him for you.

“Yeah, She even tried ice cream,” Lindsey mumbled, her eyebrows furrowing in worry.

“And the munchkin still didn’t go for it?” Emily questioned exasperated. You never turned town icecream. It was your absolute favorite food ever and their Trump card. It was the one thing that could get you to do just about anything. Lindsey shook her head slightly. “She must not feel good,” Emily huffed.

She hadn’t wanted to leave you in the first place, but your grandmother had convinced them that it was just a stomach bug, and you would be fine for the three days they would be at Camp. Now, she was entirely rethinking that decision.

“What the hell are you two talking about. Who’s Roary?” Pino interrupted before Lindsey could respond, plopping down on the bench next to the two blonds, who shared a frantic look.

“Um…” Lindsey started, not quite sure how to explain to the other woman that they had a 4-year-old daughter. A 4-year-old daughter who was currently not feeling too great.

“Alright ladies, let's get back to work,” Vlatko called, catching the attention of the women who had crowded around Emily and Lindsey, who both sighed in relief. The crowd began to disperse, walking towards the field, except one woman. The only woman who knew that you existed, who sent both worried looks.

“Everything alright?” Kelley asked, eyeing the two women’s distress.

“We hope so,” Emily muttered, sulking back towards the field.

It was halfway through practice when it was decided that everything was most certainly not fine.

“Hey Linds, your phone is going crazy,” One of the coaches called out after Lindsey’s phone had buzzed for the 6th time in the last 5 minutes. Lindsey rushed over to the bench, grabbing the offending device, her eyes widening as she answered the next frantic all.

“Hey Mom, everything Ok?” Lindsey asked, trying to sound calm, even though she most certainly didn’t feel that way. If her mom was calling then it had to be bad. She listened for a few seconds, her face becoming more worried with each word. “You’re talking too fast,” She said quickly, as Emily jogged up next to her, placing a comforting hand on her arm. “Are you at Memorial or NorthWest?” She asked, biting her lip and gesturing for Emily to start picking up their stuff. “Tell them to do it, we’ll be there as soon as we can,” She finished, hanging up the phone and shoving it into her pocket, and gesturing towards Vlatko, who came running over along with the rest of the team.

“I got the bags,” Emily said as she heaved up both her and Lindsey’s bags. She didn’t know exactly what was going on, but she knew that it was serious and they needed to move now.

“We need to go, now. My mom had to take her to the hospital.” Lindsey barked out towards Vlatko. He nodded, immediately. He knew about you by necessity, that way he would understand if any emergency were to happen.

“Of course, do you need someone to drive you?” He asked, his back straightening and concern leaking into his voice.

“No, we got it. Ready babe?” Emily said distractedly, checking to make sure that she had all of their things.

“Who? What the fuck is going on?” Megan exploded, as several of the women behind her nodded. Sonney and Lindsey had been acting strange all weekend. They were glued to their phones and always whispering conspiratorially to each other. The women were going to get to the bottom of it.

“Our daughter is having emergency surgery and we need to go, now.” Lindsey spat over her shoulder, grabbing Emily’s hand and moving towards the exit. Several of the women gasped, while others just looked on in shock. Kelley rushed forward, placing a hand on the women’s shoulders, and forcing them to turn around.

“If you think you’re going by yourselves, you’re both out of your fucking minds,” She growled. She might not be your mother, but she cared about you and from the tears in both women’s eyes, they were in no state to drive. One person in the hospital was enough, they didn’t need any more emergencies.

“Guys,” Emily started, holding her hand out in a placating fashion.

“No. She’s our niece and we always show up for family.,” Alex said firmly, standing behind Kelley and crossing her arms. Sure, they had just learned about you, but that didn’t make you any less their family. There would be time to quiz your mothers about you later, but right now, they just needed to support them.

“Let’s get going then,” Kelley said grabbing the keys and rushing towards the vans. You were in trouble and they needed to get moving.

“Lindsey, over here,” Lindsey’s mom called the moment she saw her daughter enter through the emergency room doors. Emily and Lindsey quickly made their way over to the woman, the women of the USWNT following behind them like lost puppies.

“What happened?” Emily demanded, her mother-in-law nodded hastily.

“Her temperature spiked, and she was in so much pain, so I brought her here. They said her Appendix burst,” she explained in a rush. Lindsey’s hands migrated to her hair, agitatedly pulling at the strands, while Emily rubbed her hands into her eyes with a groan. How the fuck did this happen while?

“Ah, you must be Mommy and Mama?”A tall, bald man in a white coat and scrubs approached the women,“And you must be the rest of the team?” He smiled gesturing to where the team had taken up residence in the cramped waiting room.

“Is Y/n ok?” Lindsey rushed out, Emily nodded, wrapping her arm around her wife and looking at the doctor expectantly. They didn’t know what they would do if… the thought was too painful to even imagine. They shouldn’t have left you, even if it was with your grandmother and they were only a few miles away.

“She’s stable now. The surgery was a success, we were able to remove her Appendix, and she’s currently getting set up in a recovery room,” He listed professionally.

“But she’s going to be alright now,” Emily asked, desperation leaking into her tone.

“Barring any infections and some pain around the incision, she should be fine. Kids typically bounce back pretty well,” The doctor nodded and all of the women took a sigh of relief. You weren’t totally out of the woods, but you could be alright.

“Can we see her,” Lindsey quieted, sniffling lightly, and trying to discreetly bring a hand up to wipe her nose. She felt a tissue being placed in her hands by a woman behind her, and she murmured out a thank you.

“I’ll have a nurse come get you as soon as she’s been settled,” The doctor affirmed, smiling lightly, and turning to go talk to the nurse at the nurse’s station.

“You two go in first, we’ll hang out here until she’s awake and ready to meet us. We don’t want to overwhelm her.” Tobin spoke quietly, rubbing Lindsey back, as Christen did the same for Emily.

Lindsey and Emily’s breath left them as they entered your room and took in your appearance. Your little body looked so tiny in that bed, the numerous wires connected to you making you look impossibly more fragile. They couldn’t help the smile that cracked across their face at the sight of Roary laying beside you, a bandage wrapped securely around his middle in the place she assumed yours was.

They carefully made their way over to you, Lindsey sitting on your right and Emily on your left, both women grabbing your tiny hands.

“I can’t believe they bandaged the Dino too,” Lindsey laughed as she ran a hand through your wispy Y/H/C hair, brushing it away from your eyes.

“Kel will be thrilled she’s so attached to that thing,” Lindsey whispered, running her fingers lightly over your cheeks. She smiled when your nose scrunched up cutely.

“Mama?” You mumbled, your Y/E/C eyes fluttering.

“Hey baby, Mommy is here too,” Lindsey smiled, leaning over so you could see her better, her thumb running soothing circles over your cheeks.

“Hey monster, try not to move too much ok? You hurt your tummy,” Emily said softly, placing a soothing hand on your chest, to stop you from trying to sit up.

��Dey fix Roary too?” You asked, squeezing the stuffed dino under your arm more tightly. The women smiled indulgently at you.

“Yeah, and he said he’s feeling much better. What about you?” Emily asked, running her hand soothingly through your hair.

“I’m otay. Can I have water?”You asked, Lindsey, raising her eyebrow at you.“peas?” You smiled mischievously at your mama, batting your eyelashes, and she rolled her eyes.

“Kelley wants to know if her, Alex, Chris, and Tobin can come in?” Emily grumbled, glancing up from where she was texting updates to the USWNT group chat.

“Might as well bring in the whole crew,” Lindsey mumbled under her breath. Where one went the others were sure to follow, and though this wasn’t the perfect moment, she knew that the other women were worried about you.

“Hey baby, there are some people who really wanna say hi, wanna meet them?” Emily questioned lightly, brushing the hair away from your eyes yet again.

“You Team?” You asked, your eyes lighting up in excitement. You had only heard stories about the women from your Mommy, Mama, and Aunt Kelley. If they were half as cool as Aunt Kelley said they were, then you couldn’t wait to meet them (especially your Aunt Alex because Aunt Kelley made heart eyes every time she talked about her).

“Yeah, baby,” Lindsey said softly, replacing Emily’s hand on your chest to slow your excited wiggling.

“Aun Kelwey?” You cheered. You loved the woman (not as much as you loved your mamas, but pretty close). She always told you fun stories, and she had given you Roary.

“She’s there too,” Emily smiled lightly at your obvious excitement, standing and moving to go retrieve the said women. You and your Mama didn’t have to wait long before Kelley came busting through the door with the rest of the team following much more carefully behind her.

“Hey short stack” Kelley smiled as she entered the room, (gently) tickling you and kissing your cheeks. The room’s atmosphere lightened at your giggles, and Lindsey and Emily shared a knowing look.

“You knew?” Alex demanded, glaring at her girlfriend as the entire team trickled into the room.

“Of course I knew that Frat Daddy junior had a junior of her own,” Kelley smirked, settling into her chair, watching as you tried to keep your eyes open.

“Tired baby?” Lindsey asked quietly after a few minutes of watching you fight your obviously heavy eyelids.

“Wanna meet the team,” You wined, quietening at your mama’s stern look. Just because you were sick didn’t mean you got to be a brat. All of the women awed at your dinosaur yawn.

“Sleep baby dino, we’ll still be here when you get back,” Kelley said softly, rubbing your leg, as Alex did the same thing on your other side. They would be here for as long as you were to support you and your mothers. Plus, your mamas had some explaining to do. Now that they knew you exited, you had 20 other Aunts who were going to help you get better.

#uswnt x reader #uswnt imagine #uswnt imagines #soran x reader #soran imagine

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c-c-cherry · 4 years

Note

Mista Whump headcanons? I loved his chapter in the dadbacchio fic!

Hi! I’m glad you’re liking Communication Breakdown so far, the new chapter should be out once I’m done with my Halloween stuff! <3

//content warning for whump-related shit (sickness, major injury, etc..)

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

I feel like I should just shove in my pre-established headcanons that I always have for Mista before I start like what I did for my man Jonathan:

-Oldest in the family and (ironically) has four younger sisters!

-His parents worked a LOT growing up so he was often treated as the third parent growing up, doing almost everything for them in search of their approval

-It made him very responsible, but it also made him feel like he had to be responsible for everything and everyone

-That mindset followed him to where he is now; no matter how relaxed he seems to be, there’s always a feeling in the back of his head that he has to manage everything and be responsible for everyone’s safety and health

-Loves physical affection but would rather die than be an “active burden” on anyone

-Not in any form of contact with his family since he went to prison (and misses them a lot) ;(

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

Pain Tolerance

-Getting shot? Been there, done that. Kidnapped and interrogated? He can hold off for a surprisingly long amount of time. Drugged? Barely even phases him.

-We all know he probably has the highest pain tolerance in the entire team

-Partially because it seems like he always gets hurt no matter what he’s doing

-I headcanon him as the oldest in his family so he was always brought up to have really thick skin and was always thought to be the most responsible growing up

-His parents were working all the time, so that meant he had to take care of his siblings whenever they were hurt

-But meant when he was injured as a kid, he had to deal with it himself :/

-When he first joined the gang, it was:

1) weird not being the oldest, and

2) really weird having people actually worried about you when you got hurt

-Even with Giorno having Gold to help them out all the time and Giorno insisting that its literally his stand’s purpose, he still feels this weighted guilt every time he needs someone else’s help

-Our man acts all whiny about it but truthfully, if he was given the option, he would much rather ride it out on his own or deal with things himself :(

Injury

-In all honesty, he’s probably one of the only members of the team that wouldn’t be opposed to going to a hospital

-Whereas Bruno or Narancia would be fucking terrified of stepping foot in one again for obvious reasons, the rest of the gang are just pretty stubborn about it

...

-He tends to be overdramatic most of the time when he gets hurt, but you can tell when something is really hurting him when he’s absolutely silent

-It’s almost the opposite of his other team members; most of them get uncharacteristically loud and panicky when they’re in serious serious pain but it's almost like his brain just completely shuts down

-He gets so quiet that he’s basically unresponsive and his body keeps trying to numb itself as the pain gets worse and worse

-It always bites him in the ass later when his state starts wearing off and all the pain his body was blocking out comes back tenfold and it's just OUCH

...

-Mista’s a pretty touchy guy. He practically lives off human contact

-Except when he’s hurt.

-His body kicks into this weird overdrive where he wants no one to touch him and he’s just supposed to deal with it himself

-Idk how accurate this actually is in canon but I headcanon that Gold Experience’s healing methods don’t actually hurt that much, it's actually pretty soothing for most people

-The reason Mista always freaks out whenever Gold is healing him is because of his weird defense mechanism that kicks in when he’s hurt

Sickness

-His chapter in Comm Break was pretty much just a sickfic because I decided to give him appendicitis, but I have other headcanons hehehe…

-I was actually going to make him lactose intolerant in the first draft and the chapter being about him having no fucking idea why he was sick and Abbacchio just being like “...dude...”

-I eventually dropped it for something with similar elements but more of a dramatic plot, but I still like the headcanon that he’s too dumb to know that getting sick all the time after eating dairy just isn’t normal

...

-He loves taking care of other people because it reminds him of taking care of his sisters; like he’ll be willing to do anything and he’s a master at making people feel better :)

-But him?

-Oho,,,he fuckin hates being sick >:)

-Maybe not Giorno in The Unknown levels of hatred, but the fact that everyone does nothing but makes sure he’s okay the entire day gives him this warm, fluffy feeling in his chest that MAKES HIM EMOTIONALLY CONFUSED because no one ever gave a shit about him pre-passione

-Is he the type of person to completely deny any feeling of ailment until it’s definitely too late? YES. DEFINITELY.

-Usually it's one of the bucci gang who will figure out he’s under the weather before he does.

“You’re looking a bit pale...”

“Nope.”

“Are you feeling alright? You don’t look so good.”

“Totally fine!”

-He’ll refuse to rest until he passes out, is pressed up against the tiles on the bathroom floor, or someone (usually Bruno) shoves a thermometer in his mouth and proves that he absolutely HAS to

-Give him some medicine and he’ll pass out for HOURS. All he’ll do is sleep because he wants to get over it as soon as possible

Emotional Stress

-Mista’s like an open book when it comes to most emotions

-You might not know when he’s hurt, but you’ll sure as well know when he’s sad or stressed

-He’s not afraid to cry, and even though he probably won’t tell anyone why he’s sad, bottling up his emotions was just something that he was never prone to doing

-Bruno’s gotten used to finding him in the kitchen at 3am waiting for his bread to toast and there’s just tears and Bruno’s like “...Meesta ;-;”

-but then there’s hugs so it's ok :,)

-Also Mista is definitely the type of person to just kind of slink into a room and have someone be like “what’s up?” and he’s like “I’m feeling fucking terrible!! :))))” and before they can even reply BOOM WATERWORKS-

-He’s ultimately not ashamed of it because it helps keep him regulated in the long run (and the homies are always willing to provide him with that good comfort) :)

This sad shit is the exception though…

-When he’s with the bucci gang, he’s not afraid to let his emotions run wild sometimes because he knows it’s always little things to keep him chill

-Not about this, though. Because he actually considers this big

...

-Mista has eternal homesickness for his family.

-His parents, his sisters, his uncles and aunts and cousins.. they all cut contact when he went to prison

-It wasn’t a huge fight, but a slow burn of distancing from each other.

-He misses them so damn much. He misses his childhood home, and the way his Madre would cook, and the stupid shit his sisters used to do...

-It comes and goes in waves; most days the feelings don’t hit him but sometimes, especially on holidays, birthdays of his family members, and even his own birthday, it hits hard.

-Normally when something’s bothering him he doesn’t see a problem in just talking or venting to someone

-But with this it's different because he knows if he starts talking about it, it’ll just be uncontrollable and he’ll be a fucking mess if he even tries

-Mista, despite his demeanour, is extremely good at hiding his feelings when he has to ;-;

-He’s too embarrassed to tell anyone, so he spends a lot of those days curled up in his room, sobbing into his pillow

-Even on holidays, when it’s hard to celebrate at all, he manages to hold it in until celebrating is over

-He knows they all suspect something is up, but he also knows that they won’t push him to say anything

-They can all tell he gets fragile certain times of the year, so they try their best to be extra soft with him when he does decide to come out and spend time with them <3

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I really do love writing for Mista. I should do it more sometimes!!

Got a headcanon you want fulfilled? Askbox is open!! <3

#jjba #jjba headcanons #ask-c-c-cherry #guido mista #whump #headcanons #jojos's bizarre adventure #jojo's bizzare adventure golden wind #vento aureo #hurt/comfort

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 5 years

Text

Humans are Space Orcs, “Medical Instruction Vd 1″

First day back at school, so forgive me for being short :)

“Before we get started, I just wanted to make sure that it is known that all parties involved in these videos have agreed to let me use their footage for training purposes, though they may not be used for anything else in accordance with Human Medical Privacy Laws. These tapes will go directly to the intergalactic college of interspecies biology and medicine. Those who are found to use this footage in any way contrary to its original purpose will be prosecuted to the full extent of the law”

The camera turns on shaking form side to side over the floor spinning quickly from the right and then to the left before finally leveling out on an image of a hallway. The Vrul scuttles along the floor with great purpose small fleet clattering against the cold metal. He turns to look at the camera, “I just got a call up the Medical bay for a human in significant respiratory distress also complaining of chest pain, so we are going to head up there and see what is going on. Now I have been the operational medical officer aboard this ship for a while now, and I have seen almost everything there is to see. Doing medicine for humans is…. Well it’s a wild ride simply because of their combination of durability and breakability. They break horribly easily and in horrific ways, but are able to live through it when they do, and that leaves it up to the medical staff to make sure that they are quickly treated so that the shock of their injuries doesn’t send them down the road of you know…. Not being alive.”

They hurried up a hallway following after the little doctor pausing for a few seconds before the medical bay doors which opened with a hiss. A wave of sound washes over the camera, people talking and someone breathing rather heavily. The camera pans up to show a group of humans gathered around a third sitting on the edge of one of the hospital beds. They are breathing fast and heavy a hand on their chest eyes wide panicked.

The crowd opens up as the little doctor walks in.

“What do we have?”

“30 year old male with racing heart, difficulty breathing, tingling hands, dizziness, and chest pain.”

The human was breathing even harder now looking around frantically, “I….I….I’m dying….. I think I’m having a heart attack…..I can’t breathe.”

“Alright, let’s get an EKG going first thing.” The little doctor gets to work very quickly all four arms working as he begins to speak, “Now the obvious worry here is the case of chest pain, which in humans can be an indication of a heart attack. Now the heart is a very major organ in a human, and acts as a pump to move blood around the body. The blood contains oxygen and infection fighting cells etc. With a heart attack one of those little vessels in the organ is blocked, usually by plaque or fatty deposits causing death in parts of the heart muscle. Now this human is generally too young and too fit for any of that to happen…” He turns to the human, “Is there a history of heart attack or heart disease in your family?”

The human shakes their head.

“Has this every happened to you before?”

Another head shake.

The doctor ripped off a couple of sticky white circles and attached them to the human’s chest, “Now this will give us a good look of what is going on in there.” There was a pause for a minute as they continued working.

The doctor glanced at the instruments once the information began coming in, “Alright, so this is good news, the heart IS beating fast, but there does not appear to be any blockage, and it is not fast enough to be considered tachycardia. Also their blood oxygen level is within acceptable range meaning that it isn’t likely to be some other issue. Now that leaves our post likely option as being a panic attack.”

He walked over to the human to get their attention, “Do you have a history of anxiety disorder in your family?”

“A few …. Uncles.” He panted, “But it has to be…. A heart attack.”

“Well your heart is actually fine. I think in this case you ARE having a panic attack, now you are alright, this can happen to anyone not just people with a disorder, ok. Now just humor me, and I and I want you to take in one big breath counting to seven, hold it for five and then blow out at five seconds.” The human looked very skeptical, but at the order of the doctor they began.

He left the instruction to one of the other attendees, “You see, this is actually quite common in humans. Emotional functions are very closely intertwined with their physical functions mostly due to their greatly superior fight or flight mechanism. Humans have a very quick physical reaction to panic that causes the heart to beat faster, digestion to shut down and the pupils to dilate. The breathing will also speed up as you have seen. The problem is the human body reacts to the stress of being chased by a predator in the same way it reacts to, social stress, or an approaching deadline.

In this cause stress, and an elevated heart rate could have trigged a panic attack, where the body is having these physical symptoms despite the brain, and now they are trying to figure out an explanation. They generally assume they are having a heart attack or that something else horrible is about to happen, even if it is not.

He turned back to check on the human, whose heart rate had gone down a bit. They were looking a little better, but there still seemed to be a way to go.

“We are just going to have him continue this breathing exercise which is designed to activate the parasympathetic nervous system and calm down the feelings of anxiety and panic. I always find it interesting that the one thing that makes humans the best and dealing with extreme stress, is also the one thing that makes them crumble under more mild states of stress.

***

“So we have been called in again this time, we have a 25 year old male presenting with, extreme abdominal pain, vomiting, nausea, and a low grade fever.” The doctor walked in wearing more protective gear than he had last time. The camera pans up to another human lying on one of the beds curled into a ball moaning, face screwed up in pain, hands clutched around his middle rocking slowly back and forth in a writhing sort of way. One of the other doctors had placed a metal bowl by the human’s head as they groaned.

The doctor moved forward and had the human roll onto his back, though the human did not seem as if he wanted to. The alien doctor listened to the human’s innards, and then began lightly pressing on the abdominal cavity. As soon as he did, the human yelped in pain and curled up again looking as if he was about to be sick.

“Abdominal pain in the lower right quadrant, I would wager to say this is probably a case of appendicitis.” The doctor motioned for one of the orderlies to grab a machine and roll it over, “Now the human appendix is a part of the intestines that was long thought to be useless or a vestigial structure that humans used more when they had to clear large amounts of plant material through their digestive tract. In many cases it acts as a blind pocket that sometimes collects bacteria and then becomes inflamed. You CAN fix it with antibiotics, but the general consensus is removal.” He pulled the machine into position, using a short wand covered in cold gel to pass over the human’s skin just above the problem spot.

“Ah, just like I thought, you see that right there.” He pointed to the screen, “This right here is the inflammation being caused by the infection, and the reason that the human is going to be in so much pain right now. I would suggest at this point that we just go in and remove it with a simple laparoscopic appendectomy. As far as procedures goes, this one is actually relatively easy and should take no more than a few minutes for me to perform. Now before you go questioning me about the time frame for this surgery, I do remind you that I am the most experienced surgeon in the galaxy. I guarantee the prep for this surgery will take longer than my ability to actually preform it.”

The human groaned.

“Don’t worry, we will have you fixed up almost immediately.”

***

“I find that there are a few general things you want to look for when treating humans. The first big one is energy level. Your average human is going to be very…. Sharp you will see it in the eye and head movements, they will, or should be very energetic with their head and arm movements, especially around the chest and shoulders. Humans like using their hands to talk. A lot of the time you can tell something is wrong with a human when they are listless and slow to respond. You may see their eyes wandering and they won’t focus on you, now some humans behave that way, but your average human will generally try to make eye contact with you at some point. Watch to make sure they are supporting their own heads, or does it seem to be bobbing or tilting in one way or another. A few other things is a general change in appetite from what is considered usual. A stressed or sick human may eat too little or too much. If your human appears confused or is having trouble answering simple questions, you will want to check them over straight away. As I said before, a sick human might appear listless, lethargic, they will tend to sleep a lot, and they may be irritable. I would make it a point to warn most students about that fact when dealing with humans, sometimes in cases of serious injury humans tend to act in anger to pain, so they might try to fight you off or to get away, especially if the pain is really bad, they are sort of resorting back to their more baser instincts. Occasionally you may have to strap them down, or even sedate them , while there are a few humans who like comfort when they are in pain, there is a large group of them who do not like to be touched or talked to when they are. I would say that is also an important thing to note, both psychological and physical pain can cause a human to isolate themselves form you, so just make sure you are watching for those signs because they can be indicators that something is seriously wrong.”

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heauxplesslydevoted · 5 years

Text

As The Dust Settles (Chapter 2)

A/N: I can’t even express how happy I am that so many of you guys enjoyed the first part. All of the support is genuinely appreciated. As always, please let me know if you want to be tagged or untagged, or if you were supposed to be tagged but I missed you. And enjoy!

Tags: @princess-geek @chetachisblog @dorishi-desu @hatescapsicum @annekebbphotography @drakewalkerfantasy @zambazeus @loilko @blackcoffee85 @randomchoicesblog @fortunatelywaywardsandwich @canknot @lapisreviewsstuff @akacalliope @senseofduties @badchoicesposts @ao719 @stanathanxoox @supercoolperson0808 @soft-for-drake @i-bloody-love-drake-walker @choices-lurker @oofchoices @ramseyandrys @molly7998 @narrytheworld @fan-of-all-trades

Marissa is confident that she’s worn a hole into the floor with all the pacing she’s done. It’s mostly a nonsensical route from her bed to the walk-in closet, something to do in order to keep her mind from racing.

The girls are tucked into bed, having shoved their faces with as much pizza as they could, so she was up by herself. Thomas is working late at the office, his client practically holding him hostage. And while she misses her husband, she’s glad to be alone. It gives her time to think.

“How much time has passed?” Marissa asks anxiously.

“Since you peed on the stick 15 seconds ago?” Alma shoots back rhetorically. “”It’s been 15 seconds, doll. 17 now.”

“Sorry.” Marissa turns on the faucet and quickly washes her hands. “I know I’m probably being a total spazz right now.”

“It’s fine. I’m sure finding out you’re pregnant is a stressful thing.”

“I’m not pregnant, I might be pregnant,” Marissa corrects. “We don’t know yet.”

“I’ve watched you puke your weight today, and you haven’t had a period in weeks, if you aren’t pregnant, I will give you my right arm.”

“What if my appendix is currently rupturing?” Marissa asks hypothetically. “Or I have some type of worm?

“Gross. And you don’t have appendicitis, nor are your insides being eaten by a tapeworm.”

“I don’t think that’s how they work.”

Alma rolls her eyes. “Whatever, my point remains.”

“The last time I was in this situation, I was 21, in my cramped apartment. It was my senior year at Fresno State, I was broke as hell, and I was 8 credits shy of graduating. When the stick showed that tiny little plus sign, I panicked. And Guy pretended to be happy and supportive, until reality set in.”

Alma grabs her friend’s hand and gives her a supportive squeeze. Now the panic makes more sense. “Well, guess what? You’re 32 now, you’ve graduated from school, you aren’t broke. You have a wonderful job, a strong support system, and an amazing husband. Thomas is a great man, and Guy isn’t good enough to shine his shoes, so don’t even start comparing the circumstances. He’s going to be ecstatic.”

“Yeah.” Marissa nods. “I know all of that, but I still feel anxious. I can’t help myself.”

“It’s going to be fine,” Alma says confidently. “You’re going to be fine.”The timer on Alma’s phone goes off, the loud beeping interrupting their silence. “Well, the moment has come.”

“That 3 minutes went by way too fast.”

“Come on, let’s rip the bandaid off already.”

Marissa reaches over and picks up the pregnancy test with a trembling hand. Staring back at her is a tiny pink plus sign.

Marissa crawls into bed and pulls up the duvet. She closes her eyes in a feeble attempt to get some sleep. That doesn’t work, as she tosses and turns for a few minutes before she finally sits up in bed. The events of the day weigh on her now that she’s not moving, now that she’s finally allowing herself the space and opportunity to think. She’s pregnant. She’s really pregnant, there’s a bun in her oven.

A hand flies down to her still flat abdomen and she strokes the skin gently. It all still feels surreal. Is she ready to do the baby thing all over again? But this time around, she has Thomas. Sweet, supportive, compassionate Thomas. They’re in it together. A smile flits across her face at the thought.

An hour later, after a lot of tossing and turning, Marissa finally feels herself dozing off. Her exhaustion pulls her in, when the door to their bedroom softly opens. She opens her eyes and sees Thomas slowly tiptoeing further into the room, in an attempt to not wake up.

“I’m not sleeping,” she says, startling Thomas. She can see him squinting towards the bed to get a good look at her. “You don’t have to sneak in.”

“What are you doing up so late? You should be resting.”

“Can’t sleep,” Marissa says.

Thomas walks over to their bed and crouches down so he’s at her eye level. He strokes her cheek gently with his thumb. “How are you feeling?”

“Mostly tired. Drained, really.”

“Whatever you have, I hope it passes soon.”

Not for another 9 months, Marissa thinks to herself. But she nods along with him nonetheless. “Right now, I’m okay though. I should be back to myself in no time.”

“That’s good news. As soon as you’re feeling better, I’m taking you on a date. Fancy dinner, expensive , the girls can spend the night with Alma.”

“That sounds amazing,” Marissa says with a sigh. “Now hurry up and change so you can get in here with me.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Thomas quickly changes clothes and brushes his teeth, not bothering to hang his suit, opting to throw it over the bench sitting at the foot of their bed. He slides into bed and wraps an arm around Marissa’s waist.

“How was work?”

“Long. These clients are getting progressively worse.”

“Any progress on the fighting sisters?”

“Yeah. They’ve decided to try mediation, because they realized that going back and forth to court was only draining their inheritance.”

Marissa chuckles. “That’s something they could’ve figured out a long time ago.”

“True, but I get paid by the hour, so that was more money for me.”

Marissa scoots in closer to Thomas, and runs a hand through his hair. He sighs dreamily and his eyes flutter shut at contact.

Her mind is racing. Would now be a good time to tell him? Should she wait? Maybe she should confirm things with her doctor before making the announcement. But why drag things out further? Just rip the band-aid off, right? Early pregnancy tests are pretty accurate, so there’s no need for more confirmation. She already knows the answer.

“Thomas,” she calls out gently, deciding to get out it out. There’s no response. She looks up and sees his eyes are closed. “Thomas, are you up?” He mumbles something intelligible and she hears a faint snore pass his lips.

“Okay. We’ll try again later.”

~~V~~

The next morning when Marissa wakes up, she lingers in bed for a minute, bracing herself for the inevitable nausea that’s going to wrack her body and ruin her day.

But it doesn’t hit.

So Marissa slowly gets up and quietly makes her way to their en-suite, careful not to disrupt her husband’s sleep. Now that she’s in motion, she’s shocked that the urge to vomit still hasn’t kicked in.

After brushing her teeth and washing her face, Marissa is convinced that she’s experiencing some sort of miracle as the morning sickness is still at bay. Maybe it’s a sign that she should tell Thomas the news.

Returning to their bedroom, she sees that Thomas is still sleeping. He’s flat on his back, one arm tucked behind his head the other one across his stomach. She crawls back into bed and sits on him, the unexpected weight rousing home out of his sleep.

Thomas blinks a few times, getting adjusted to the soft light peeking through the curtains. His eyes settle on Marissa who’s staring back at him. “Well, this is a sight I can get used to.”

Marissa leans down and kisses Thomas softly on the lips. “Good morning.”

“Morning. You seem to be feeling better today.”

“I am. Much better because I don’t have any morning sickness today.”

“Well that’s good to–morning sickness? Did you just say morning sickness?”

“I did.”

“But that’s for pregnant women,” Thomas says, still half-asleep, not fully putting the pieces together. Marissa stays silent, watching the wheels practically turn in his head. His eyes grow wide. “Are you pregnant?”

Marissa nods. “Yes, I took the test–”

The sentence is interrupted as Thomas practically jumps out of bed and scoops Marissa into his arms, hugging her tightly. “Oh my God! When did you find out? How far along are you?”

“I took the test yesterday and it was positive. Alma was the one who suggested it, and I can’t believe I didn’t notice the symptoms earlier. And I don’t know how far along I am, but I can’t be more than 6 weeks.”

“I’m going to be a dad again?”

Marissa nods. “You are.” Thomas spins his wife around excitedly, her giggles filling the quiet room. “You’re going to make me very dizzy, Lawyer Man.”

His cheeks flush a deep shade of pink and he stops spinning, planting her feet firmly back on the ground. “Sorry! Are you okay?”

“I am. But with all of the throwing up I’ve been doing for the past few days, I don’t want to risk it.”

Thomas drops to his knees in front of Marissa. He slowly lifts up her shirt, exposing her stomach to him. Holy shit, they created a life together, one that was currently growing inside of her.

“Hi,” Thomas greets, his voice thick with emotion. “You’ve given mommy a tough time these past few days. I guess that was your way of making your presence known.” His fingertips graze the soft flesh. “I’ve known about you for all of 2 minutes, and I love you more than I can express with words. A please be a boy because I am severely outnumbered in this house.” That gets a laugh out of Marissa.

He places a lingering kiss on her stomach , then another for good measure before he stands back up.

“I love you so much, Marissa Mendez.”

A pleasant shiver runs down the length of her spine. She always gets a kick out of him using her full name. “I love you too.”

His hands reach up to gently cup her face, and he runs his thumb across the apple of her cheek. Maybe he’s just on a natural high right now, but she has never looked more beautiful to him than she does in this moment, something he didn’t think was possible. He leans down and kisses her softly.

Marissa tilts her head up slightly and deepens the kiss, earning a small groan of approval from her husband. He kisses her back with just as much enthusiasm before his lips travel down her neck.

“Hey, dad and Marissa, can we have–”

The sound of their bedroom door opening followed by Luz’s loud voice forces the couple to spring apart.

“Ugh, not again,” Luz grumbles.

Thomas rolls his eyes. “What do you want, Luz?”

“Ivy and I wanted to know if Marissa could make us French toast for breakfast,” Luz explains. “But only if she’s not sick anymore.”

Marissa nods. “Yeah, I’ll make French toast.”

“Great.” Luz turns around and runs out of the room. “IVY, I FOUND THEM KISSING EACH OTHER AGAIN!”

“EWWWW!”

“BUT WE CAN HAVE FRENCH TOAST!”

“YAY!”

Marissa chuckles and rests her forehead against Thomas’s chest. “You ready for another one?”

“Yeah. I love our two goobers.”

“Me too.”

“And I know I’ve said it before, but I’m going to Home Depot later today so I can buy a lock for our door.”

~~V~~

The rest of the weekend flies by in a blur and before Marissa knows it, it’s time for her first prenatal appointment.

She and Thomas opted to have their appointment early in the morning while the girls were at school. They still don’t know about the pregnancy, and Marissa wants to wait until she is in her second trimester to make the announcement.

Now they’re sitting in a drafty hospital room, and she’s wearing an itchy hospital gown, and where is her OBGYN? This limbo, this waiting will be the death of her.

Thomas places a warm hand on her knee, stopping her from bouncing it any further. “Babe, stop.”

“Sorry! I’m just–”

“Anxious?”

“Yes.”

“Everything is going to be fine,” Thomas says confidently.

They sit in silence for a few more minutes before there’s a soft knock on the door. An older woman wearing a white coat peeks her head in and smiles. “Marissa Mendez?”

“That’s me.”

“Hi.” The woman fully enters the room. She extends a hand to Marissa, who eagerly shakes. “I’m Doctor Lancaster.”

“Nice to meet you.” Marissa gestures to Thomas. “This is my husband, Thomas.”

Dr. Lancaster and Thomas exchange greetings. The woman closes the door behind her and sits down. “So, I heard we’re here today because of a pregnancy?”

“Yes. I was feeling really sick last week, but I brushed it off because my daughter had a stomach bug. But she got better and I got worse, so my friend suggested that I might be pregnant. I took a home pregnancy test and it was positive.”

“Okay. Well congratulations.”

“Thank you.”

Dr. Lancaster logs into her computer and pulls up Marissa’s medical files. She jumps right in, asking Marissa a wide range of questions from when her last period was to all of the symptoms she’s experienced. “Your vitals look good, you’re a healthy weight. Do either of you smoke?”

“No.”

“Drink?”

“Not consistently,” Marissa says. “The last time I drank was a few weeks ago when we went out to a sushi restaurant and I drank sake.” Her eyes widen. “Is that okay? Alcohol and raw fish on the same night?”

“It was before you were pregnant, I’m going to give you a pass. But now that you’re aware of the pregnancy, no more drinking and no more sushi. And you’ve had one previous pregnancy, correct?”

“Yes, my daughter, Ivy. She’s 11 now, I had her at 21.” Marissa bites the inside of her cheek. “I’m not too old for this, right?”

“Advanced maternal age is 35 and older,” Dr. Lancaster explains. “But technology and medicine have greatly improved within the last few years, so getting pregnant in your 30s is not the end of the world. And given your medical history, there’s no need for me to treat this like a high risk pregnancy.”

Marissa breathes a sigh of relief at the words. “Okay.”

“Do you two have any questions for me?”

Thomas nods. “I know pregnant women experience morning sickness, but Marissa seems to not get any relief. She’s been miserable lately. Is there anything we can do?”

“I can prescribe you something for the nausea, but if it gets too bad — like you start losing weight, or you can’t even hold down water — then I want you to come back.”

“I can do that.”

“Now, let’s see if we can get a peek at your little one. Go ahead and lie back for me, Marissa. Put your legs in the stirrups like this is any other routine exam.”

Marissa follows the instructions. Thomas’s eyes scan the room and he sees Dr. Lancaster grab something that looks like a wand.

“What is that?”

“Well from all the information your wife has given me, it sounds like she’s only 6 or 7 weeks along, which is too early to detect anything with the traditional transducer you’re probably used to seeing,” Dr. Lancaster explains. “This has to be inserted so we can see the baby.”

Thomas takes a deep breath, absorbing all of the information. He looks down at Marissa, whose eyes are shut as the doctor inserts the wand. After a moment she relaxes and looks at the computer screen.

They stare at it for a while, and Marissa doesn’t see anything. It just looks like a blank screen.

“Okay, so this is your uterus. And right there in the center, do you see that?” Dr. Lancaster points to a dot on the screen. Marissa nods. “That’s your baby.”

“That’s it? That tiny little dot?”

“It’s your tiny little dot. And that little flicker on the screen is the heartbeat. Right now, you’re measuring at exactly 7 weeks and your baby is the size of a blueberry.”

Thomas doesn’t say anything, he just stares at the screen in complete astonishment. Marissa’s having a baby, his baby. This was real. Tears prick the corners of his eyes and cloud his vision to the point where he can’t see past them. Fat tears eventually fall down his cheeks and he tries to wipe them away to no avail.

Marissa looks up at his and swipes her thumb across his cheek. “Don’t cry.”

But he truly can’t help the onslaught of emotions he feels: joy, anxiousness, excitement and strongest of them all, love.

He bends down and kisses her, every inch of skin he can find — her hands, her forehead, her cheeks, her lips, her nose — murmuring soft, “I love you’s,” in between every kiss.

“I love you, too.”

Dr. Lancaster smiles at the happy couple. “How about I print out lots of pictures?

~~V~~

After a slew of more tests, Marissa and Thomas were finally able to leave the hospital, just in time to pick up the girls from school. They’re in the Bernhardt parking lot, jammed between a line of luxury cars as parents and nannies wait for the day to end.

Thomas looks over at Marissa as she’s sitting in the passenger seat, their hands interlaced at the center console. He hasn’t been able to take his hands off of her all day, close never being close enough.

“How are you feeling?” He asks gently.

“Tired. It’s been a long time since I’ve done a prenatal appointment, I forgot how long they could be in the beginning.” After the ultrasound, Marissa got a pelvic exam, and gave blood and urine samples to the hospital lab. It took a lot out of her. “And Dr. Lancaster is much more thorough than my old obstetrician.”

“When we get home, you just get some rest. I can help the girls with their homework and figure out dinner.”

“You’re the best,” Marissa says. “Just put a lasagna in the oven.”

“I think I can handle–”

Thomas is cut off by a loud knock on his car window, startling him. He rolls down the window and sees Vanessa. “Vanessa, hello.”

“Thomas, hi. It’s always a pleasure to see you.” Her eyes flicker over to Marissa. “Hi, Marissa.”

“Vanessa,” Marissa greets back.

“I saw you guys parked here and I just had to come over. Marissa, we missed you at another PTA meeting.”

“Yeah, I couldn’t make it.”

“Is everything okay?”

Marissa narrows her eyes at the question. Since when does Vanessa give a damn about her? “Everything is fine. I had an appointment that was more pressing than this meeting and I couldn’t miss it.”

“You’ve missed two PTA meetings in a row now.”

“Is that a problem, V?” Marissa asks. “Ivy isn’t here on scholarship, so I’m not mandated to go to these terribly inconvenient PTA meetings anymore. I’m a part of the committee by choice, and if I miss a meeting or two, I’m sure the sky won’t fall.”

Vanessa bites the inside of her cheek to keep quiet. This woman was still as petulant as ever. “We like consistency, M.”

“Sorry. I’ll try to make the next one.”

It’s clear that Vanessa’s presence is a sore spot and Thomas doesn’t want to agitate his wife further. “This has been a lovely chat, but we should continue it some other time.”

“Oh Thomas, just one more thing!”

“Yes?”

“I don’t know if you’ve heard any rumblings at your firm but the partners are thinking of selling it.”

“What?”

“You guys haven’t had many high profile cases recently, and they’d rather just cut their losses.”

“And how on earth do you know that?” Thomas asks.

“Because my firm is angling to buy yours out,” Vanessa replies smoothly. A smug smile appears on her face. “And if things go like I think they will, you and I might end up being coworkers.”

#choices: stories you play #playchoices #mother of the year #moty #thomas mendez #thomas mendez x mc #pixelberry

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meg91596 · 4 years

Conversation

Grew Up Too Fast Chapter 4: Big Brother to the Rescue.

It was a typical Friday night at the Lincoln household, Amelia was working the night shift and Link was home with the children. Link was tired and had all the children in bed by 9:00pm. Scout however laid in his bed thinking about his sister Charlotte who had been teased by peers as he was picking her up from school. Allison who was over with Scout told him that it was going to be fine. He never really wanted her to comfort him in this time of need because he knows that she isn’t the best person to talk to about this stuff as she is 6 ½ months pregnant with their daughter. Scout had gone to the kitchen to think about things, when Elena came out. Elena was running a fever. Scout quickly took her temperature but he couldn’t understand what was going on with Elena because she couldn’t really talk she kept saying hurt.

“Scout what is going on?” Allison asked. “Elena she isn’t feeling good.” Scout said. “Oh have you given her anything to make her feel better?” Allison asked. “No I haven’t I think I’m going to take her to the hospital.” Scout said. “Scout what would your father say or even your mother?” Allison asked. “Allison she may have appendicitis and nobody would know because she doesn’t speak.” Scout said. “Have Amelia and Atticus looked into why she doesn’t talk?” Allison asked. “Ally yes I think she is in therapy to see if that will help.” Scout said.

Scout drove Allison and Elena to the hospital. Elena had fallen asleep for a few minutes but was still running a fever. Scout had called his mother from the car saying that he was on the way to the hospital with Elena. She agreed to meet him so that they could figure out what is going on with Elena. As soon as they got to the the hospital Elena started screaming. Scout picked her up and she started throwing up.

“Scout what is going on with Elena?” Amelia asked. “She started crying and is running a fever.” Scout said. “Oh my poor baby good thing you are here Scout you could possibly be the one who saved her life.” Amelia said. “Mom what is wrong with her?” Scout asked. “I think appendicitis.” Amelia said. “Good news Amelia it is appendicitis and we will operate on her.” Hayes said.

Scout paced in the hospital as Allison went home. She decided that it would be better if she was at home. Scout told Amelia what was going on with Charlie and she said that she would talk to Mr. Peterson the principle. Scout said that he felt responsible for his sister’s problems. Amelia placed her fingers through her son’s hair to ensure him that his sisters and brother were going to be okay. When Elena came out of surgery Hayes wanted to talk to Amelia and Scout about something that he found troubling for the 3 year old little girl.

“What is wrong Hayes?” Asked Amelia and Scout. “Elena is going to need another surgery in the morning.” Hayes said. “What I thought you got it all?” Amelia asked. “Yes but it seems that her stomach and intestines are not connecting so I am going to an Endoscopy to see what is going on there, then we will take what is going on from there.” Hayes said. “Is she ever going to be okay?” Scout asked. “She will probably be sick for awhile, you saved her life by bringing her to the hospital.” Hayes said.

Amelia called Link who came running in with Charlie and Luke. Luke wasn't too happy to be woken up in the middle of the night. Link wanted to be there for his daughter not knowing that she was so sick. Amelia and Link gathered together to talk about what treatments they could give their sick daughter. Scout began to talk with Charlie about what was going on at school and why she is always picked on.

#Grey’s Anatomy #amelia shepherd #amelink #amelink baby #fanfic #Atticus Lincoln #cormack hayes #allison hunt #sick #lifesaver

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the-end-of-art · 5 years

Text

Children open doors

The Open Door

Sometimes it takes a neighborhood—and a new kid in your life—to show you who your friends are.

by Marie Howe

About ten years ago, I moved into a railroad apartment in the West Village: five flights up to a long, narrow space that my sisters, who live in houses, might call a hall. When the apartment was swept and uncluttered, tulips standing on the table, it looked like a sliver of a country house. As long as you didn’t move. This place is so peaceful, friends would say, so serene—and it was, unless the neighbors were home. I nodded on the stairs, but I had no desire to know the people across from me: two adults and one young daughter living in a space too small for even one person. I’d come to New York to escape the white affluent suburbs, to live with different kinds of people, but this was just too close. Their language, their cooking, their shouting: Everything they did seemed foreign and loud. I closed the door; they came through the wall. The man’s snoring woke me. “Stephanie!” I heard the mother call to her daughter so many times it was a song stuck in my head. When the family’s friends came over, their conversation and laughter drove me from my desk, forced me to walk the streets. Then the worst thing happened.

They had another baby. And that child cried for twelve to sixteen hours, day and night. I banged on the door. I called the landlord. Who were these people? Why wouldn’t they move? At that time, I was trying to conceive a child with the man I loved. Inches from my neighbor’s snoring we would be having the industrious sex people who are paying for rounds of fertility drugs have—and then the baby would start crying. And crying. Come on, honey, he’d say, we have a job to do. But by then I’d be sobbing, too, curled up in a fetal position under the sheets, my hands over my ears as the baby screamed.

We broke up, and I was single again. As the baby next door grew into a toddler (“Sabrina!” the mother endlessly called), I began the long process of adopting a child from China. Finally, I received the photograph of my future daughter, a sturdy, sad-looking 3-year-old girl named Yi-Nan, and it was time to go.

Three weeks in three Chinese cities (bicycles, smog, scorpions, SARS, an appendicitis attack), Yi-Nan sobbing throughout the fifteen-hour flight, and we were back in New York, slumped in a cab speeding through the rainy night. As I lugged my new daughter up my building’s five flights of stairs, I began to hear voices, and then I saw them: Stephanie and Sabrina; their mother, Maria; and their father, the snoring man, Carlos. Everyone had crowded into the stairwell to greet the little girl who pressed against my shoulder. It wasn’t until the next morning that I saw the blown-up color photographs of Yi-Nan—I had no idea who had gotten them or how—pasted on the walls and doors with WELCOME HOME crayoned beneath them.

I hardly noticed, in the blur of those first weeks, how the presence of my next-door neighbors began to comfort me. Maria and Stephanie would coax Yi-Nan (whose name had morphed into Inan) up the stairs as I staggered behind. Then gifts began to appear: a child’s baseball hat hanging from the doorknob, two or three laundered dresses neatly folded, a large Tupperware container of plastic action figures.

I was a 52-year-old working woman, living alone with a disoriented 3-year-old who spoke only Mandarin. I was barely coping. Although my friends cheered me on, they didn’t live with me; my neighbors did. One day, Stephanie stood in my doorway as I put away groceries. Another day, both Stephanie and Sabrina came in. Soon they were stopping in regularly to teach Inan numbers and letters and who Barbie is. When I struggled to get my stomping, crying daughter dressed, they materialized snapping their fingers and singing “You can do it” as they danced around. They charmed her, they calmed her; they made her laugh and learn English. And they taught me how to teach her, they taught me to have fun.

Not only our next-door neighbors but the whole building rallied to my support. Our landlords threw a baby shower. Will and Peter, who lived below us, carried up groceries and very often Inan as well. Soon doors were opening each morning like little windows in an Advent calendar as our neighbors called out “good morning” to the little girl counting “one, two, three” as she walked downstairs.

I don’t remember when Maria and I began keeping the doors between our apartments open. I crossed into her kitchen one evening to see Inan sitting with the kids and eating spaghetti. “It’s okay?” Maria said. “Yes,” I said, “if it’s okay with you.” Inan looked up, smiling, her mouth smeared with sauce.

When I was sick, Maria took Inan next door and fed her. When Inan was sick, Will took time off from work to babysit. And when Inan’s fever reached 105, Maria showed me how to wrap her in cold towels. Back from the doctor, we found coloring books waiting for her.

Our doors were open almost all the time now. The children ran back and forth, and Maria and I walked into each other’s homes with only a knock on the woodwork. Stephanie and Sabrina and Inan decorated the little Christmas tree we’d carted home in the stroller (Peter carried it up). And on Christmas Day, when Inan had been in New York nine months, and a group of us were opening presents, Will and Peter brought us a Christmas breakfast of eggs and ham and blueberry muffins. It was the happiest Christmas of my life.

Children bring blessings, an old friend, a mother, once told me: Children open doors. Inan and I had come all the way from China to find the people who would make our new life possible: our generous neighbors, who had been there all along.

(http://nymag.com/urban/guides/family/living/features/feature_neighbors.htm)

#Marie Howe #adoption #neighbors #love #poet

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zoeygreensimblr · 5 years

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Soon You’ll Get Better (Episode 46)

I can feel a cool hand against my hot forehead, waking me from my fever induced nightmare.

"Zoey, it's Mum, you're burning up sweetie, Angus is going to take you to the hospital" My mother's voice says but that can't be her, she's in Brindleton Bay and I'm in the apartment in San Myshuno, or at least I thought I was. My body slowly starts to pull itself out of the sleep I fell into, I have no idea how long I was out for and the pain is intense, much more sharper than before. I feel like I'm going to vomit but I'm scared to move. I open my eyes, the room is lit only by the lamp on the bedside table, my mother is sitting on the floor beside the bed, she has a bucket on her lap. Had I already thrown up?

"Should I call an ambulance?" Angus asks my mother as he walks into the room with a wet face washer, he places it on my forehead to elevate my fever.

"I think so, I don't think she can sit up in the car, she's in too much pain" Mum answers him, she strokes my sweaty hair, trying to comfort me. I lean forward and she brings the bucket up to meet me.

"I'm sorry" I apologise to my mother, I hate being sick.

"Shh Zoey" She whispers to me. I close my eyes but can still hear everything going on around me, Angus is on his phone, calling for an ambulance.

"She's complaining of lower abdominal pain, she has a fever and has been throwing up for the last half hour....Zoey Amelia Green...6th January....she's 18 years old....around 53kg and she 159cm tall...ah her cycle started Monday, finished Thursday and she is on birth control and a low dose of anti anxiety medication ...10 minutes, ok, thanks" Angus rattles off my stats to the emergency services and ends the call, "They will be here in 10 minutes" He tells my mother.

"Good thing we moved her down to your sister's bedroom, it will be easier for them" Mum says. I'm in Imogen's room? When did they move me and why? I hear footsteps enter the room, I open my eyes to see that Tess is also here.

"I stripped the bed and scrubbed the rug" She tells Angus, handing him a fresh t-shirt, I can see the stain on the one he's wearing and I'm so embarrassed, I threw up on him and his bed. Great job Zoey.

"Thanks Tess, ambulance will be here in 10 minutes too, I'll drive you and I to the hospital and your Mum can ride in the ambulance with Zoey" Angus tells Tess as he changes into the fresh t-shirt and she nods in agreement.

When the ambulance arrived I was lifted onto a stretcher and wheeled out of the apartment, into the lift and down to the parking garage, I can hear Angus repeating to the paramedic exactly what he had told emergency services on the phone.

"I'm scared" I cry to Angus, he reaches over and holds my hand

"I know Princess but the hospital will find out why you're in pain and fix it" He tells me in a comforting tone but I can see the worry in his eyes,"Can you give her something for the pain?" He asks the paramedics

"We will give her morphine, that will help with the pain, she probably won't remember much after taking it though" The paramedic warns Angus and he's not lying, I don't remember anything about the ambulance ride to the hospital or how long I had to wait for surgery.

I woke up in a hospital bed, at first I was unaware of my surroundings, everything looked so unfamiliar. The sun was shinning in the window but I had no idea what time it was. I felt so groggy and my mouth was dry. My eyes begin to focus, I can see my Mum and Don in the hallway, talking to a short woman in a white coat and Angus is napping in a chair inside my room. There's an IV drip in my arm, attached to a machine that beeps every so often. I make an attempt to sit up but I feel too sore, not the sharp pain like before though. I pull back the blanket and lift my gown to find I have a small cut, held together by stitches on my right lower abdomen. They cut something out of me? I hope it wasn't something I may need like a kidney or my spleen. I look back out into the hallway, my mother and Don have gone somewhere with the short lady, I assume she is a doctor. My phone buzzes on the table next to the bed, I try to grab it to silence it so Angus doesn't wake up but I can't reach it. He opens his eyes at the sound of the second buzz and sees me trying to reach out.

"I'll get it for you baby" He says sleepy, jumping to his feet to pass me my phone, it's a text message from Tess asking if I'm awake yet, I reply to her.

"Can you pour me a cup of water?" I ask him, my voice is raspy and it hurts to talk.

"Of course Princess" He says, grabbing the plastic cup from the tray at the end of my bed and filling it with water. He uses the controls on the side of the bed to sit me up right and hands me the cup of water, I drink it quickly, Ive never felt this thirsty before, my mouth feels like it's covered in cotton balls.

"What happened?" I ask him after my third cup of water, I just can't seem to get enough.

"You had an appendicitis, that's why you were in so much pain and were throwing up" He explains to me as he strokes my hair

"I'm so sorry Angus, I threw up on you and your bed didn't I?" I'm so ashamed but he just looks at me a smiles

"Zoey it's not your fault, you were sick baby, you couldn't help it" He reassures me, he kisses my forehead softly.

"I should have gone to the hospital when you suggested it, would of saved myself a world of embarrassment" I say, feeling my face flush

"Well that's partly my fault really, I should have listened to my instincts, I knew it wasn't a stitch but you were so scared to go to a doctor and I didn't want to force you to do something you were not comfortable with." He admits, "When I came back into the bedroom though and saw your face was red and you were sweating, I knew something wasn't right, I called your Mum and told her what was going on and how I was going to take you to the hospital, luckily she and Don were having dinner in the city so they were only a 5 minute drive away, they picked up Tess on their way to the apartment and then Don went home to pack you a bag. I tried to wake you so I could get you to the car and that's when you threw up, so your mum and I showered you off and I carried you down to Immie's bed and grabbed a bucket, your fever was making you come in and out of sleep until the ambulance arrived" He tells me, worried look on his face. This is worse than I thought, my mother and my boyfriend showered me.

"She saw my tattoo didn't she" I ask him in a small voice, I would of liked to have kept it hidden from my mum for a bit longer, maybe until I was at least 30.

"She not only saw it but apparently you told her all about it on the way to the hospital when you were on morphine" He laughs. Kill me now.

"Shit. Was she angry?" I question him, like I've been caught doing something bad.

"Not really, she was more worried about you Zo" He assures me, "She said you were very entertaining in the ambulance though"

"What else did I say" I fret, what if I said something I shouldn't have?

"You told her you were going to marry me and we were going to have 6 babies" He laughs as I try to hide my face beneath the blanket.

"Stupid morphine" I scoff

"Yeah, stupid truth telling morphine" He says with a big smile on his face, he's loving this way too much.

Mum and Don came to see me not long after I had woken up, bringing the doctor along with them.

"Hello Miss Zoey, I'm Doctor Stalls" She greets me warmly, "How are you feeling?"

"A little sore but nothing like how I was yesterday" I tell her. My Mum walks over to the side of the bed and wraps me up in a hug.

"Thank goodness to Angus who jumped into action quickly" Mum says, turning from me to also hug Angus, "He's like Superman"

"Well the good news is that we've taken your appendix out, the bad news however is that you will be stuck in here for the next 3 days because we have to monitor you, we have you on an antibiotic drip so you don't get a post-op infection" Dr Stalls informs me and I nod. 3 days in here? I'm going to go crazy.

"What's the expected recovery time?" Angus asks the doctor

"Around 1 to 2 weeks, she will need help bathing and walking for a bit. No physical activity, no heavy lifting, just bed rest" The doctor tells him, she takes my temperature, fills in some stats on my chart and then leaves the room. I won't be able to go to the gym for 2 weeks or work, oh no, work, I'm meant to be there today

"Did anyone call The Cupcake Factory? I was due at work at 8 this morning." I start to panic

"Relax honey, Tess called your boss last night, she said to tell you that you can take off as much time as you need" Don reassures me

"And what about moving, I haven't even started packing yet" I stress

"Tess and I have you covered Princess" Angus tells me, "We can pack up your things and we have enough people helping us move, you just concentrate on healing". This is just the worst timing for me to get sick when we have so much to do and now I feel so helpless.

I had so many visitors while I was in hospital but Angus never left my side. Tess came in first, she brought me in gossip magazines, chocolate and flowers.

"You'd do anything to get out of going to the gym" She laughs as she hugs me.

"I'd rather do 3 hours of Boxercise than ever have to feel that pain ever again" I tell her.

"Be careful what you wish for baby" Angus says, grinning at us, he would love to have us do more Boxercise.

"So, if Zoey can't come to the gym for 2 weeks does that mean I can also skip?" Tess pleads with Angus

"You're under no obligation to come, I don't charge your group membership, I haven't since about your second week and your contracts are just a formality" He informs us.

"So I could have quit at any time?" I ask him, confused.

"You did quit baby, for 3 months" He reminds me, laughing.

"But I came back" I exclaim.

"And I'm so glad you did Princess" He says as he leans down to kiss my forehead

"Considering it took me 5 months from the date we joined to drag Zoey there, I think she's done pretty good, showing up 3 times a week and she doesn't even complain anymore" Tess pipes up and I go bright red, now he's going to know that we joined back in January but waited until June to do anything but he just laughs at us.

Tess opens her bag and presents me with shampoo and conditioner, I've never been so happy to wash my hair but I know I can't do it alone.

"Will you help me?" I ask her in a small voice, I hate feeling so helpless.

"I'd love to" She says, dragging the chair to the sink in the bathroom, she comes back for the plastic cup. Angus leans down beside me and I wrap my arms around his neck as he scoops me up, he carries me to the chair with Tess behind him pushing my IV drip. I sit back in the chair and Tess uses the cup to pour warm water on my hair, she squirts shampoo into her palm and works it into my hair, creating a lather, rinses it off and repeats the process, she then massages conditioner into my hair and scalp, it feels amazing and so relaxing.

"Can you grab me her comb from her beauty bag?" Tess asks Angus and he goes in search for my comb, finds it and presents it to Tess who then uses it to comb the conditioner through my ends before washing the conditioner out of my hair, I feel so fresh and clean. Tess wraps my hair in a towel. She goes digging through her bag again and produces a hair dryer.

"She thinks of everything" I tell Angus

"Well I knew Don wouldn't think to grab the essentials" She laughs as she plugs the dryer in and unwraps the towel, she blow drys my hair, giving it style again, not just a sweaty mess.

"Thank you Tess" I praise her, she's made me feel somewhat like myself again.

"Not done yet" She says, pulling her make up bag from her giant bag.

"You do realise I'm in a hospital bed Teresa? Can't really go out." I say, I appreciate her efforts.

"Just because you can't go out doesn't mean you can't have a date night" She says, smiling at me while she applies foundation to my face. It's only then that Ive notice that Angus left the room at some point.

"Where did Angus go?" I ask Tess as she starts working on my eyes.

"Smokey eyes or a do you want to play around with some colours?" She asks me, ignoring my question.

"Colours please" I answer her, getting distracted by her eye shadow pallet, 30 shimmery colours, she picks purple hues and blends them on my eye lids then finishes off with eyeliner. Tess has always been more creative with make up than I was, I usually just put on the basics and go but she contours and highlights, owns a dozen eye shadow pallets with all different colours. She finishes my make up and pulls a mirror from her bag to show me, she's done a fantastic job, I looks so glamorous.

"Now lets get you out of that hospital gown and into something a bit more Zoey-ish" She suggests, pulling my black dress, a bra and fresh underwear from her bag.

"I've never been so happy to see my clothing" I exclaim, "I love you T"

"Love you too" She says as she takes off my gown, she clasps my bra around me and pulls my dress over my head, pulls my arms carefully through the holes and adjusts it. I slide my panties off and she hands me the new pair to put on. She sprays perfume on my neck and inside my elbows just as Angus comes strolling back into the room, carrying a large brown paper bag that smells really good, making my stomach growl. All I've had since I'd been here was horrible hospital food so I'm hoping that bag contains something that doesn't consist of dry bread or jelly that has no taste.

"You look beautiful my Princess" Angus says as he lifts me up and carries me back to bed, he places me down so carefully, kissing me softly on the lips, "Are you ready for date night?"

"Well that depends on what's in that bag" I tell him, trying to pick what the delicious smell is that is wafting from the bag.

"Patients my love" He says, smiling brightly at me before turning to Tess, "Thank you for everything Teresa, you're a gem" He tells her, pulling her in for a hug

"Happy to help, I'd say get a room but we both know you won't be seeing any action for at least two weeks" She laughs before hugging me, "Have a good night Zoey, you deserve it"

"Thank you Tess, you're the best sister" I exclaim, how did I get so lucky to have such an amazing twin sister and boyfriend who work together to surprise me with a date while I'm stuck in hospital?

Angus unpacked the brown paper bag, inside were two large containers, he pulls the tray table closer to me and takes a seat on the side of the bed, opening a container to reveal a cheeseburger and fries. I'm in heaven.

"I love you" I announce, getting excited.

"Are you talking to me or the food?" He laughs.

"Both" I tell him, breathing in the wonderful smell of cheeseburger, "I love you Angus, thank you for doing this for me"

"I couldn't stand the thought of you having to eat that horrendous food tonight and I wanted to make tonight special for us" He tells me.

"What's so special about tonight, it's just another Saturday night" I ask him, curious about how this day is different to any other

"6 months ago today you kissed me at The Stargazer and I know we've been through so much since then and I had this whole night planned where I was going to take you out dancing and we'd eat something a bit more fancier than cheeseburgers but shit happens and as long as I get to celebrate tonight with you then I don't need any of that other shit" He says to me but I think he's forgetting one important point.

"What about those 3 months that we were not together?" I ask him, can we legitimately claim a 6 month anniversary when we were broken up for 3 of those months.

"Well in those 3 months all I wanted was you Zoey so in my mind we were always together, I'm happy to celebrate 6 months with my Princess. I know I caused our break up baby, I'm not trying to sweep that under the rug" He whispers to me, his head hanging low. I've ruined his moment.

"Happy 6 months anniversary my beautiful boy, I love you" I say brightly, I'm happy to pretend those 3 months apart never happened. He looks at me and smiles wide.

"I love you too baby girl" He beams, he's so cute when he smiles.

I finish off my dinner and he sets the containers aside, "Now Miss Green are you ready to play?" He asks me, the cheeky smile crossing his face

"No physical activity for 2 weeks" I remind him, how am I going to go that long without wanting to touch him all over?

"Get your mind out of the gutter Zoey" He laughs as he walks across the room and picks up a box, he sits the box on the tray table between us and takes the lid off to reveal a chess set, "I assume you know how to play?"

"Of course" I tell him proudly as I set up the chess board, "Tess and I play often, she makes me clap my hands whenever she has to go to the bathroom mid game so she would know I wasn't cheating"

"Did she cheat?" He asks laughing

"Oh yeah" I laugh, my sister always cheats at board games but I let her get away with it because we have fun playing.

I won 3 games of chess against Angus before he gave up and we packed the set away.

"Come lay with me" I ask him, moving over so he can slide in beside me, he wraps his arms around me and holds onto me.

"Please don't ever scare me like that again" He whispers to me, "I thought the worst sceneries when you were unresponsive"

"I won't, next time I will listen to my gorgeous boyfriend" I promise him and he kisses me.

"Tell me more about these 6 children we are having?" He asks me, I know he's trying to lighten the mood but I can't believe I said that to my mother and that she told Angus about it. Is nothing sacred?

"Please tell me I didn't say anything too embarrassing" I cringe, hiding my face on his chest

"You were cute baby" He says, stroking my hair.

"You saw too? I thought it was just my Mother that got to witness my drug induced ramblings" I exclaim, I wish I had just stayed in pain

"Aw baby, we've all said crazy things on drugs, you need to ask Immie about my meeting with Landgaarb, I was so high and had no control over what I was saying, Immie was trying to hold everything together but she tells me I gave her a good laugh. Bad thing is I actually remember most of it, you get the luxury of having no memory of anything you said" He tells me in a calming tone.

"I don't want to have 6 children" I state firmly.

"How many do you you want?" He questions me. It's not something we've discussed before, we've only ever talked about prevention.

"2, maybe 3, and I would love if they had thick blonde hair like their daddy and also his beautiful blue eyes" I tell him dreamily.

"I would want them to have your gorgeous face and your heart of gold" He whispers to me, I pull my head up from his chest and he leans down and kisses me soft and slow. Our kiss is interrupted by a nurse entering the room, she clears her throat loudly with the intention of getting our attention.

"Visiting hours are almost over" She tells Angus sternly, he lets go of me and slides himself out of bed.

"I'll see you tomorrow my Princess" He says before kissing my forehead, he gives the nurse a look of distain before he leaves.

The nurse checks my temperature and adds notes to my chart before she storms out of the room, leaving me alone with the beeping noises and the constant shuffling up and down the halls, I wish I was back in the apartment, snuggling into Angus as I fall asleep, hearing his heart beating in his chest, feeling his fingers stroking my hair. I close my eyes and try and block out the noises around me. I just want to go home.

#sims #sims 4 #ts4 #sims 4 city living #sims 4 get to work #sims 4 san myshuno #sims 4 story #sims 4 gameplay #simblr #love #lovers #chess #brindleton bay #don lothario #taylor swift

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tattooartistsblog · 5 years

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The Evolution of Western Tattooing

I’ve had a weird summer but things have been in flux for almost 2 years now. Most of this coincides with my having children (who are fantastic) and being forced to travel a lot for work.

Along with these major life changes, I have also been going to school and doing a lot of reading about philosophical ideas. Lately, I have been reading some of the works from Peter Singer (Act Utilitarian). He is famous for many different thought experiments over the past 40+ years but the one I felt compelled to toss into this article was the drowning child problem. (Rewritten for simplicity - Source)

This experiment has many aspects but I will take only a single part of it to make a point further on:

“If you were walking by a stream and saw a child had fallen into the stream, would you stop and save that child from drowning?”

If you were to answer, “Yes, I would stop and save that child from drowning!”, ask yourself: Why?

Why would you take time out of your day, when your happiness and energies could be better spent increasing the experiences you only have one chance to obtain in this lifetime? If you spend time helping this child in need, you will never get that time back. How can you be sure that the child is a good person (here and forever forward) or that they will have a life of value? You have no idea. Yet, in most people’s case, they would take action to save a child because they are not (or do not want to be considered) what society would label a monster or heartless person.

I may have taken a bit of a leap there but, as a society (local or global), we look to the children as something pure and malleable. They are something that has been untouched by the efforts of work-life balance or the politic that make up our daily existence.

So let’s take another run at the previous thought experiment:

What if you are walking by a stream and you see two children drowning. You only have the ability to save a single child at a time. In saving one child you may neglect the other so there’s a chance that the other could perish.

If confronted with this dilemma, how would you act? How would you triage this? Would you check to see if one was bigger than the other in hopes that the bigger one may be able to save itself? Do you go to the closer or further one? Do you save a child based on hair color? Do you let them both drown? What if one was your own child? Or both?

Regardless of any action taken in this situation, a rational person must always attempt the best possible outcome, for any and all involved. Their actions must result in what gives the greatest utility to those involved, regardless of how it affects themselves. Without this effort, society is prone to disruption as the efforts of the individual fracture from the cohesion necessary for mutual benefit in society. When removing the idea of an individual ego, we are forced to look outside our own worldview to see how our actions create positives or negatives. This can be applied universally among groups of people, or people and the environment that they exist within.

The practice of considering what is good and bad by picking apart our actions seems to be less organic than it had in the past. In more recent years, I have observed a loss of identity, a greater hive-mind collective and a less objective society. Given our thought experiment above, I think there would be a greater crisis among members of society when presented with the need for immediate action. I believe this is due, in larger part, to social networks and the identity manufacturing that accompanies the use of such technology.

Social Networks

Our use of technology has been of benefit in many ways. We have been able to advance progress in every field of study. Schools are offered via institutions that have gone online; We can send correspondence across the world in milliseconds and we are able to modify genetic structures to assume a godlike control of the physical world. In most ways, technology has been of benefit for society but when applied individualistically, our lives have become a shadow of what is required to be a social being. Our use of social networks has removed the social aspects of society and is leading to the destruction of individuality altogether.

There are a few aspects of ethics and social networks that we can go over. First I look at social network. What I think is absurd about it and what people can do to avoid being sucked into the marketing machine I assume it to be. After that, a bit about language and how we can never be confident when presented with written/texted/typed representations. Finally we will look at what it means to be a responsible person when using these forms of social connections. Throughout this essay I will point out how to critically examine this social network machine and why we should offer a harsh critique to this new aspect of society.

Social Media and Responsible Viewing - My perspective

Social media is a linchpin of interpersonal connectedness in our modern world. Global citizens focus large amounts of their lives on the assumptions others will make when viewing an online portfolio of statements, pictures or videos of their lives. This exclusive access (in some ways, depending on your security settings) gives voyeurs an insight into your life. Your followers and prowlers can choose to live vicariously through you and you never know what they are up to behind their digital device’s screen..

The idea of being a “follower” of a person or brand has always struck me as weird, maybe even a little awkward. In fact, as soon as I had written “follower” above, with those appended quotation marks, I felt a little sick. Why is it that without these markings I am less provoked by an emotional response but with them I feel more separate from the connection? If we look to the past, in our societies, the label of being a “follower” had been attached to something crazy like Purple Kool-Aid or compounds with militant weapon caches. It was a descriptor that labeled a person as being unable to think for themselves.

Followers were always an integral part of a larger mass that, while being led, shook the critical inquiry that accompanies life and disposed the efforts of free thinking while idolizing individuals that benefited from their obeisance. Our lives now fit perfectly into the idea of being a “follower” and we choose to propagate this lack of critical thinking.

From tattooing to social media

I work as a tattoo artist and part time as a thinker. My focus in the tattoo industry is putting what you think looks good into your skin. It is a permanent adornment that creates a myriad of emotions for some, and is quasi cathartic to me when doing a procedure. As tattooers, we utilize artistic skills and technical knowledge to make our clients happy - when they have the urge to make a permanent change to their body. As a free thinker I am always trying to understand what surrounds me and what my place in the world is. Combining these two efforts has been very difficult at times as I am forced to reconcile my want for understanding with the needs of my clientele.

As a tattoo artist, the focus for the business in modern times has been trying to figure out how best to adorn our clients body with an ageless piece of art. When we make a design for the skin we are always looking forward to ensure a tattoo looks great for the next 15+ years. At least, this had been our effort in the past. We have slowly evolved away from this effort due to the amount of knowledge necessary when designing a piece. It is an insanely difficult endeavor.

Becoming a craftsperson

Growing as an artist combined the study and effort of generations who previously made mistakes so that the future could avoid them. The study of art, tattooing and the body was an immersive experience, wherein people wishing to achieve a mastery were forced to learn all aspects of the trade to become proficient. Once proficiency was obtained, a person practicing the craft was forced to understand their place in the industry. They developed their own “voice” in their artwork and honed this application so they could master their process. This process, once mastered, could be passed down to future generations and the art would evolve to fit a best practice that would ensure survivability and growth of the art form.

A mastery in tattooing included making pigment and needles; understanding and developing your tools of use; drafting and application of art to skin and the actual procedure; client management and running your business. Since the inception of regional and national supply companies, this practice of evolving a personal mastery has slowly devolved and an art-centric focus. The idea of mastery has shifted from the total knowledge accrued in a lifetime's work to something that can be obtained through social media acceptance and a single applicable style of art. An artisan’s efforts can be so focused that mastery can be achieved in as little as a year.

Short term benefits

The industry has evolved away from mastery due to the inconvenience of time in everyday life. In many ways, it has become easier to learn with the invention of technologies that make designing a tattoo far easier. We also have the ability to capture lost hours with premade, pre dispersed pigments (although the safety of such products is of question), premade needles and, what are treated as disposable tattoo machines and supplies, that can be delivered to your door in a matter of days. Suppliers became an integral part of the operations and, in time, grew to service the entire industry, on demand.

With an increased amount of free time, what were tattoo artists in search of a mastery going to do to fill the time? Newly freed time was applied to becoming a better artist and learning how better to market their products. This is not as it always was…

This shift in free time occurred (in the west) at about the same time media started showcasing a new wave of personalities who sported tattoos. After that, television shows started to come out that introduced legions of captivated viewers the inner workings of a tattoo shop and, through careful manipulations and editing, humanized the tattoo artist. What was once considered an evil, drug-riddled trade for bikers and sailors, was being broadcast on networks across the globe. Viewers were given the chance to learn about the trade, become attached to the artist’s personal struggles and see that tattooing wasn’t occupied by fat-white-dudes riding Harleys. It was the normal folk that were getting tattooed.

This progress of acceptance was amazing for the wallets of those who were already established, competent artists. The influx of tattoo clientele created a ripple effect, where shops that were previously hidden in a basement or the back of a barber shop, were expanding into strip malls and large common areas. The money rolling in was exponentially greater than anything that had been seen before. It was like a biker rally on steroids, and it was happening everyday, all year long.

With the exposure granted by TV and massive marketing campaigns, most tattoo shops became a place where hopeful artists would flock so as to gain a chance to be like the new stars on TV. Walking into a shop in the early 2000’s was not comparable to how things looked in the 80’s and 90’s. Church groups getting a tattoo for God were sitting next to Hells Angels getting a tattoo for Satan, and the hopeful apprentices walked into a scene that secreted a different lifestyle than previous generations. The industry was in the midst of an evolution.

The evolution

The free time that had been granted by the supply companies was again absent from the lives of tattoo artists everywhere as clients packed tattoo shop floors. Demands for new and exciting artwork forced tattooers to evolve into offering custom designs, otherwise they would lose the newly found financial security granted to them. That peaceful nights and weekdays off had vanished. They were being replaced with something tattooers were not prepared for:

Artwork. Lots of artwork.

With this influx of new client demands, shop owners were hungry to open up apprenticeships so new tattooers could fulfil the wants of clientele. Contrary to the demand placed on shop owners, the industry did not become easier to break into. Even if they were desperate, shop owners were what we call now, “old school”, and they were prone to distrusting new people in their shops. They had learned a trade that was far different than the one they resided in and, being overrun with new demands, they were a little cranky about the swift evolution of the industry. It became very difficult to train a new apprentice as the traditional tools and tricks one needed to acquire in an apprenticeship were, at times, meaningless or outdated. Couple this with the shop owners having been thrust into a position of needing to develop new skills, the apprentices were in a unique position to advocate for an exchange.

As soon as they were done scrubbing the toilet.

The exchange and eventual breakdown of the system

Most apprentices were not being utilized to the best of their abilities during the great expansion (I think I will coin that term for this era of tattooing). With new art being demanded by the increased clientele, apprentices were chosen based on their artistic abilities, as well as how their personalities meshed with shop owners. Artists were chosen based on what they were capable of artistically, not on their drive to become craftspeople. Due to this change, shop owners were placed in a role where the power dynamic would become upended and the masters of old were placed on a pedestal next to their apprentices.

In traditional apprenticeships, the master has acquired all necessary fundamental knowledge that will be passed down, as well as their own individual expression of the craft the have mastered. The apprentice is forced to learn by watching and asking questions. The apprentice is forced to learn at their own speed by slowly learning the foundational elements of the craft. But when confronted with the great expansion, shop owners were forced to take a demotion (in a way).

The master’s skills in artistry were subpar in comparison to those their agreed to train. They were put in a place where the apprentice, who had been chosen solely on how much the master was able to learn from their association, held as much power as the shop owner. The master and apprentice had become equals, and in doing so, masters, in desperate need of education, instilled a level of competency that was unearned by the new apprentice. It became easier for a new apprentice to challenge the master and, when conflicts arose, the exit of the apprentice did not accompany their exit from the industry, as it had in the past.

Tattoo Artists - The new masters

As the industry evolved and apprentices were forced out of shops that had started their apprenticeship, many of these new talents had little background knowledge of how to obtain mastery in the trade. The trade master being labeled as a tattooers had vanished. The new masters were tattoo artists.

These new masters had been promoted through the apprentice ranks quickly due to the shop owners need to grow as an artist. Their skills were traded for acceptance in the industry and a basic training the encompassed enough to ensure a modicum of quality in the least amount of time.

The new masters had been brought up in a time where “custom was king” and all the efforts of a tattooers were based solely on their artistic abilities. As the industry evolved, the passing of knowledge to the new masters left behind skills necessary to fully understand the craft.

Suppliers came in and filled the want of freedom for time consuming tasks. Shop owners outsourced all aspects of the operations so they could focus on their growth as an artist to meet the demands of clientele. This shift in applied mastery created a new baseline for artists wishing to join the industry. Art comes first. You can learn by mistake. As the new masters evolved and opened shops, previous shop owners were being run out of business by these dismissed, art focused new masters.

A break in the chain

The apprentice leaving with a lack of complete understanding left a rift in place where, historically, the master was invested in the success of their apprentice and was a part of their future expressions of the craft. By creating a situation where apprentices had moved into independent operations before fully understanding the craft, and by granting apprenticeships based solely on what they could take from the new generations, the masters of the past were dismissed and labelled as the outdated problems inside an evolving craft. To the new masters, the artistic skills of the past couldn’t compete with their own and they did not know what had been missed due to an incomplete education. In driving their own need of evolution towards a new expertise, the old masters created an environment where they were made obsolete.

The new masters had come into the craft without a bridge to the past. They were thrust into a position of power in an industry that was growing at an alarming rate. The new masters were left without a foundation for how to educate the next round of apprentices as mastery was only focused on a single aspect of the craft. Their own lack of apprenticeship was now something that had the potential to ruin the industry.

As it happened before, the growth in the industry made it difficult for these new masters to succeed, as they did not have a complete knowledge of the craft. They were bound to the failures of the previous generation, unable to make growth built on a solid foundation, and were forced to adapt to a new way that would leave a large gap in knowledge moving forward. Social media.

The evolution continues

In the last 10 years or so, tattooing has become something that is a part of who we are as individuals and allows us to better define who we are inside society. The efforts of the new masters created an industry in which a client had the freedom to design something that fit their personality. To the new masters, the collaboration between clients and artists was always present in the manufacture of designs. It was their goal to do something unique as this would set them apart from their competition. Not having a master to help guide their efforts had a positive effect on many in the industry in this way as customization became king. The individual voice of artists worldwide became more pronounced and defined the culture of tattooing we see today.

Without being tied to the techniques of the past, artists were able to push the boundaries in how designs were made and how they were applied. Innovations in style were consistently being shown through access made possible via social networks and were supported by the industry suppliers that made increasingly vivid products. These amazing feats of artistic ability led hungry artists, new to the craft, in making attempts to replicate these newly displayed tattoos. We had superstars of art in the industry, sponsored artists and a lifestyle that was being sold as a way to become something bigger and better than what had been seen before.

For the adventurous artist, there had been little effort to guide or instill a sense of mastery in the techniques being developed. Efforts to spread the information to the new generation were being hampered by what some have identified as “trade secrets “that were able to be purchased by going online, attending trade seminars or paying those in control of such knowledge to give wanting artists a tattoo.

For those who were unlucky, or had little funds to chase the information that was for sale, the guidance given was separate from this practice. Those without time or funds were told: practice on paper so you don’t make a mistake in the skin; clients will willingly give you money to learn on them; you can make mistakes; this is how we learn now; you must sacrifice your client to improve; you can be the best if you focus on one aspect of tattooing.

Social media makes it mark

Those in modern tattooing were faced with the dilemma of training the next generation of masters as the industry continued to grow and evolve. Art was still at the forefront and artistic applications of tattoos were continually being developed. The next generation came into their training in the same way the previous generation had, with a skill that was unknown to their masters; the use of social media as a way to market your ability.

What had happened before with the new apprentices happened again. The new masters fulfilled their obligations by developing the new apprentice in the same way they had been brought into the craft. Their teachings were focused on personal development in art. The training was focused on learning by making mistakes. The imbalance in the exchange of information continued to grow as the new masters exchanged their knowledge and the apprentice gave new techniques to improve the masters business. While this exchange happens, the apprentice slowly becomes detached from the master who is grooming their entry into an industry devoid of the history that holds the fabric of understanding together. There is not enough information left to pass along to the new members of the industry and a greater separation from the past occurs. The new apprentices are pushing the boundaries of evolution and leading the industry in a new direction, just as their were shown by the new masters. Alone.

I fear that this may continue to occur for the foreseeable future. With new innovations that accompany the growth of a new generation, there will always be a tool that the new apprentice can utilize to level the master-apprentice interaction. This aspect of devolution is ever apparent in modern western tattooing. Social media became the new tool that the new masters did not understand and the apprentice was able to utilize these evolutions of society to their favor.

The new class - social networks

We have delved into the idea that modern apprenticeships are undertaken by a master who has less than the necessary experience to pass along an adequate foundational understanding. Now let’s look to the future.

In my opinion, this degradation of knowledge has accelerated in the past decade This is due to the influence of social networks and mass media representations of the tattoo industry. The media is a tool with great power over the populations that choose to enjoy its benefits. Our civilizations have evolved in magnificent ways that allow transfer of knowledge and ideas at lightning speed. We have evolved to know each other over great distances. Our lives are moving towards the true expression of a global society wherein our lives are inextricably intertwined. We will be forced to fight common threats together or face extinction.

While all of this is going on, a cult of personality is raging rampant in many industries. People are held aloft based on “likes” and “followers” and trends that define the generation are bought and sold as commodities to the highest bidder. The media giants have shifted from those who presented ideas on television or radio to those who sell space on portable devices. The new idols of a generation are those who sell lifestyles or products that guarantee - fame if emulated or happiness and longevity if purchased. The lifestyles of the rich an famous are at your fingertips. If you like and follow, you can be a part of it.

Social Media and Ethical Standards

We are confronted with images of what we want by large technology companies that sell advertising space. This spaces of influence are available for a price and are gobbled up by those in society that wish to extort a level of control or influence on others. Advertising is a monster that has adapted to the changes in society better than any industry. Billions are spent so that companies know how to get you, the potential client, to purchase things you do not need. Social networks are a culmination of this knowledge, spanning decades, that collectively alter our perceptions to influence our behavior. As the tech companies has evolved, the idea of social connections have deteriorated as well. Now, our societies are more comparable to the 1984 version of existence. We love the Company and they will tell us what to do.

These companies have little regard to change their practices, regardless of the pressure civilizations, politicians or global alliances put on them. Not to be separated from the global society of this new age, the new class of tattooers are fully entrenched in their grasp. They have mastered navigating this new realm of representation and are rewriting the idea of success hand-in-hand with the social networks and they have brought this mastery to the table when negotiating their apprenticeship.

Social networks and influencers

Since the inception of social networks, our focus has slowly turned towards what I interpret as instant gratification of our cult of personality. We are focused on building followers like a non-sanctioned church. To do this, we develop a personality that is far separate from who we are in reality and sell a story that falsely implies our mastery.

Most of our efforts inside the social network realm are focused not on stealing money or selling products that are misleading or fake; our efforts are focused on building an Image…(dramatic typing there). They are here to influence opinions and trends and to manipulate the followers that hold them aloft. For a price, they can select a product and deliver its benefit to millions of enrapt individuals with nothing better to do than look at a screen while waiting for a social update.

Social networking Influencers are forced to make a product that has a limited shelf life as the media, being delivered to billions globally, must adapt to keep people's attention. The influencer’s focus is to bring in as many likes as possible and offer a service that is so exclusive that it has bloated industry. So many products are being represented by egocentric individuals who utilize their fame as a way to reconcile their high cost of service.

Influencers are skilled at building a persona that attracts people who are less than willing to think critically. Followers accept the image that is displayed on their phone/computer screen and seek validation of such images by evading critical inquiry. Validation is presented by agreements presented by influenced followers.

We see the numbers associated with an account and determine validity through insecurity. If numbers are great enough, those without mind enough to question will blindly follow representations put forth by the influencers to be a part of the “in crowd”. By denying inquiry, a person can be a part of something larger. They gain acceptance where otherwise they would be denied and, regardless if there is a physical presence to associate the person with the group, commenting on social networks allows users to segregate their ideals, likes, and beliefs to ensure less confrontation when interaction does occur.

Attempts to mislead

New apprentices or young artists in tattooing utilize social networks and media in the same way as influencers. Efforts made to display work that is impossible is a constant and misleads the public by imbuing a level of trust in clientele that is impossible to uphold, while misleading the populace under the guise of mastery. The new artists working towards mastery supplant the ideas of the past and extort a new version of true mastery. To obtain new mastery, follow these simple rules - The process and design are personal possessions of the artist. The client is no longer required to have input; they are canvasses utilized to impress or gain acceptance from competitors. This may seem Machiavellian in away but social networks are not a true representation of quality. The ability of a person to mislead the populace to increase personal value is theft.

We, as an industry cannot fault the new generation for taking such actions. This is our fault. We walked away from our responsibilities in search of fame and riches and were taken into the industry in the same vein. We are focused on personal growth rather than the growth of the industry collectively. The efforts of this new generation in utilizing ignorance to build a brand is reminiscent of how the new masters were used to gain artistic ability by previous generations. This epidemic is cyclic and the industry (as well as the majority of the world) is faced with a choice: Slow down and fix what is broken - or - kick it into high gear and get out before the ship sinks.

Sound familiar?

It’s all about appearance

When I go onto a social network, I am always presented with well groomed pages when searching for something entertaining. It is rare that I find many followers on pages that aren’t built to look a specific way and those that aren’t well groomed are not the first to appear in a search. When looking at my social networking pages, or those of some of my friends, we are not spending time developing an image or brand that represents our position in the world. Comparing our pages to influencers is like comparing fire and ice. Normal social media pages are utilized for updating close proximal relations and sharing statuses so friends and family can stay in touch with each other. Influencer pages are polished and are prime real estate for paying companies. I feel that this is due to grooming tactics these social networks have worked tirelessly to promote. In practice, you are attracted to a specific cult, or style, and the pages that have the most “followers” are delivering products more efficiently than others.

When a person joins a social networks, they only want to follow what mirrors what they feel mostly resembles who they are, what they like or who they wish to embody. In joining the ranks of a social media influencer, a person becomes attached to those who release entertaining material. Some wish to emulate it. For those who are bringing forth the next generation of tattooing, their ability to manipulate social networks has become key in their success and those who are not willing or able to competent on this new battlefield are left to fail.

Where the future lies

We are moving ever forward in society. Tattooing has evolved in so many ways that the art form it is today is a mere shadow of what it had once been, in some ways. Artists are marching forward towards a more efficient manner in delivering works of art to wanting clientele. Looking at social networks, tattooers are creating a platform wherein the “flash” of the past is what currently pays the bills. They are creating images, posting them online and clients are free to pick and choose the designs that hand on a digital wall. Social networking has turned our practices into a giant marketplace where social connections are ignored and the idea of customization is absent.

It’s funny when you look at it. We have come full circle and are reduced to the same practices that were commonplace before the great expansion. The only thing that is missing is the link to the past.

As the industry moves forward, they are confronted with a problem: Continue the march of progress and further remove themselves from the idea of mastery or, critically question the practices currently in use to rebuild the knowledge lost from the past.

Final Thoughts

I see the next generation of tattooers evolving in one of two ways: One Way. I see the same mistakes being remade again. The master will need skills from the apprentice therefore creating an imbalance in power during training. Once the apprentice feels they have gleaned enough knowledge, they will break from the master and lose a little more of the past as the industry evolves. This will continue until tattooing becomes something lost in the translation of society’s evolution. The Other Way. Tattooing slows down and becomes intertwined with the idea of mastery again. The new apprentices are given a full foundational experience when introduced to the industry and new knowledge is introduced as it becomes available. The industry works together in a way that promotes specialization and spreads knowledge effectively. Artists become attached to the process with their clientele. Insert a whole bunch of goodness!

This leads me back to the thought experiment we started with: If you come upon someone or something that is drowning, do you make an effort to save it?

Or do you just continue walking by?

Without our intervention in this industry, it will likely drown.

Hello and thanks for taking the time to read some of the ideas I have bouncing around in this “gettin’ -older” head. I haven’t written in awhile due to the work that was being put into the pigment articles. Funny enough, the depth of work that went into that study put me into a bit of a crisis. Professionals around the world were taking the time to talk with me and I feel so much more informed about the safety and efficacy of products that are being used in the U.S.

Authors Note*

Regarding the efforts moving forward with the website, I will stick to describing the ethics and philosophy of tattooing in the west (in my interpretation), tattoo history and some aspects of technical tattooing. I will not be doing the in-depth science articles that have little effect on people’s actions or choices. This may seem like a defeatist attitude, which is not something that I espouse, but in the future I may revisit them. If anyone is interested in what was found during my pigment research, please feel free to send me an email and I will give you a link to the references I had collected over the past 6 months.

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oatsn-honey · 6 years

Text

masterlist!!

Kageyama thought he wouldn’t be able to withstand another instance of that bullcrap; watching helplessly as Hinata worked himself ragged, to the point of no return. Him left to guide his stupid, idiotic, dumb boyfriend from the gym, demanded by the coach to leave practice and rest. Another incident, another accident, another collapse. Were they nothing to Hinata? Well, they surely boiled Kageyama’s blood, and each minute stacked another pressure and worry on his shoulders. There was no way he could do this again. And yet, here he was, waiting in the clubroom, Hinata, tears streaming down his face as coughs and tremors wracked his frighteningly frail body, enveloped in his arms. my hero academia

key:

<3 = ships

X = blood/violence

* = angst

~ = romance

+ = fluff

S = submission/ask

# is put in front of things that are extreme. (Ex: #X = extreme blood and violence)

ratings:

K, K+, T (I don’t do M)

The Sorrow Behind the Smile: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4,(More Chapters Soon)

<3(izuocha), *, ~, +, T

The day that Izuku discovered he was quirkless is fast approaching. The day that started all of it. The bullies. The anxiety and depression. The self doubt. This day always brings forth unwanted emotions and memories, resulting in a hard shut down. Izuku is accustomed to having his sweet mother to comfort him on this certain day, but now he lives away at the U.A. dorms. He's far from his main comfort system. And, to make matters worse, his classmates still have no idea of what hides behind their bright boy's vibrant smile. They soon will.

Backbone: Chapters to be Added Soon!

<3(izuocha), X, *, ~, +, T

After the Final Exams, Recovery Girl tells All Might that he needs to learn how to hold back, and that he could've easily caused permanent damage to the students. She highlights the severity of Midoriya's spine injury, saying that she was barely able to heal it. What if it turned out that she couldn't heal him, after all? What would be the cause? If only Izuku had had the backbone to fight All Might at the beginning of the test.

Wrinkles

#<3(izuocha), ~, #+, K

Arguments between couples can make wrinkles in relationships. And wrinkles in clothes. Or: A one-shot where Izuku and Ochako get into a silly argument, and everything ends up happy and fluffy.

Collapsing Memories and Birthday Wishes: Chapter 1 - Part 1, Chapter 1 - Part 2, Chapter 2 - Part 1, Chapter 2 - Part 2, (More chapters soon.)

<3(izuocha, todomomo), #X, *, ~, +, T

Trapped in an uncomfortable position and bleeding out within a collapsed building isn’t how Izuku imagined he would spend his birthday, but the world is funny that way.

Or:

Being sent out on patrol on your birthday isn’t exactly what someone would wish for, but Izuku wouldn’t have it any other way. After a day of shenanigans and cat saving under the burning sun, he and Ochako are called to the site of a villain attack, where Ochako finds herself doing all she can to save her boyfriend’s life. (Set in the summer of third year.)

Sweet Sensations

<3(izuocha), ~, #+, K, (along with background ships -- todomomo, kiribaku, jirou/denki)

The 1-A students decide to take a quick trip down to the local candy shop, where goofiness and romantic chaos ensue. As a result of the little venture, Izuku and Ochako grow just a bit closer, in a flustered and muttering way, of course.

Guess We’ll Just Be Unpacking Tomorrow, Then

<3(todomomo), #~, #+, K, S

The engaged pro-heroes Shouto and Yaoyorouzu move in together! But when they're supposed to be unpacking, the duo gets quite distracted, and somehow finds themselves admiring beautiful sunsets and stars - and most importantly, each other. (Tooth rotting fluff! And hopefully some humor!)

Stray

<3(izuocha), #+, #~, K, S

Izuku and Ochako, now married, take in a stray puppy.

“She’s not you.”

<3(izuocha), ~, X, *, K+, S

“Don’t touch him!”

<3(izuocha), ~, X, *, K+, S

legend of zelda

key:

<3 = ships

X = blood/violence

* = angst

~ = romance

+ = fluff

H = hurt/comfort

S = submission/ask

# is put in front of things that are extreme. (Ex: #X = extreme blood and violence)

ratings:

K, K+, T (I don’t do M)

Simple Words

<3(zelink), #*, ~, +, H, T

Zelda was concerned for him -- he had been awfully quiet that day. She wondered, "Is this the breaking point?"

Storms

<3(zelink), *, ~, +, H, K+

She couldn’t tell if he was scared of them or comforted by them, but either way Zelda would hold him dearly during the thunderstorms that rattled their little home in Hateno.

Tranquility

<3(zelink), #+, #~, K

“I wonder where the captain sleeps?” Three knights ponder this question. Zelda races to stop an approaching doom.

Or:

Link and Zelda take a much deserved nap. Snuggles!

Tribulation (pt 2 of Tranquility)

<3(zelink), *, #+, #~, H, T

He wants to shake his head in protest at the wet, sorrowful glimmering in her eyes. “Why can’t you just ask someone for help?” “Please,” She slowly sinks down on him, pressing her head into his shoulder and wrapping her arms around him, “Just talk to me. Be open with me.”

Or:

A continuation of a supposed one-shot, where Link is sick and it results in the saviors of Hyrule unpacking some emotional damage and snuggling in between.

breakfast and flower crowns

<3(zelink), ~, #+, K

Link would do anything for his princess: steal the stars and the moon, give his life, vanquish all evil. But to them, the smalls things, insignificant and sweet moments, were what mattered the most. And so, for her birthday, he would deliver just that.

gift fic for @vx3art ʚ♡⃛ɞ(ू•ᴗ•ू❁)

fragile

[<3(zelink) -- up to interpretation], #H, #*, T

tw: mentions of self harm and mental illness

Zelda just doesn't understand why he can't admit that it's his fault they're in this whole "Calamity Ganon" mess. But, maybe she just wants someone else to blame.

Link and Zelda get into a fight, both running off into separate directions. Eventually, Zelda seeks to find him and apologize.

haikyuu!!

<3 = ships

X = blood/violence

* = angst

~ = romance

+ = fluff

H = hurt/comfort

S = submission/ask

# is put in front of things that are extreme. (Ex: #X = extreme blood and violence)

ratings:

K, K+, T (I don’t do M)

coughing fits, thick blankets, and mario kart

<3(kagehina), ~, #+, K

"Kageyama, Shouyou is really sick.”

When Hinata gets sick on a day off, Kageyama somehow winds up being tasked with caring for him. He has one thing to say -- that boy is a new kind of stubborn. And he's kinda cute. Okay so maybe two things.

cornflowers and caramel cubes

<3(kagehina, daisuga), ~, #H, X, +, *, K+

Kageyama was always observant of his boyfriend, small and beautiful, vibrant and loud. Drinking in each feature, every word that fell from his lips, he could never get his fill. He was utterly enamored. And yet, how could he have missed something as blatantly obvious as this?

Or:

Hinata gets extremely ill -- it’s appendicitis.

breathe, and all will be well . . .

<3(kagehina), ~, H, +, *, K

He was off today, Kageyama realized. His steps were too slow, too shaky. When he moved for a spike, it wasn't with his typical grace and enthusiasm. He didn't discover why until Hinata was collapsed on the floor, choking on his own breaths and face pale as a sheet.

Or:

Hinata hasn’t been eating enough and has been overexerting his body.

catharsis

<3(kagehina), ~, #H, +, *, K

fma: brotherhood

<3 = ships

X = blood/violence

* = angst

~ = romance

+ = fluff

H = hurt/comfort

S = submission/ask

# is put in front of things that are extreme. (Ex: #X = extreme blood and violence)

ratings:

K, K+, T (I don’t do M)

restless

<3(edwin), *, #H, ~, +

This time, Winry isn't the one waking him up from the dream. It's his own terrified screams that break his fitful slumber.

more stories to be added soon!! feel free to suggest stories here!!

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whumpingthroughlife · 6 years

Photo

This is my Bad Things Happen Bingo card! Go here to see how it works and to get your own! @badthingshappenbingo

Fandom: Voltron (Klance)

Author: Whumpingthroughlife

Bingo spot: Appendicitis

Rating: G

Words: 3,771

Summary: Keith falls ill with appendicitis. During a mission, his pains become so bad that he crash lands and gets injured. Lance stays by his side, esp since they just admitted their feelings for each other. They have to get him medical treatment on this foreign planet before it’s too late.

Keith had been feeling crummy all day since he woke up. He felt like he was coming down with the flu. Fighting with Lance at the training deck had wiped him out almost completely. He found it hard to hang onto his weapon and his movements were slow.

Lance looked at him, his eyes narrowed. “What’s going on, Keith? I’m whipping your tail, and this isn’t even my strong suit.”

He turned to walk away, and Lance grabbed his arm. “Ke—” he started to say, but then he felt Keith’s clammy skin. “Woah, hey, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re kind of warm.”

Keith pulled out of his grasp with an angry jerk. “I’m fine. I’m going to shower and get changed.”

Lance watched him walk away, his expression worried as he saw him stagger off, almost tripping over his own feet. He wanted to go to him and make sure he was really alright, but he knew Keith would only get mad at him, and he knew Keith liked his privacy.

Keith went to the showers and peeled off his clothes. His skin was covered in goosebumps and he shivered. He felt a twinge of nausea and he leaned forward with his head down and leaned his hands against his knees, willing it to pass. After he recovered, he turned on the faucet and let the steaming hot water cascade down his body, enveloping him in warmth.

Now that he was nice and clean, he put on new clothes. Showering made him really tired, and now his body felt sluggish and heavy, as if gravity was working extra duty on him. Out of nowhere, a stab of pain hit his stomach and he leaned forward. He rubbed the area with his fingers as he winced. Maybe he had the stomach flu, he guessed. After all, he wasn’t very hungry, and that was usually a sign of the flu.

As if on cue, Hunk entered the showers to find him. “Hey, Keith. Dinner’s ready. I heard they made your favorite!”

“Thanks, Hunk. Be there in a minute.” Keith put on his shoes and socks, cringing at the pain this caused his stomach. He decided he’d better show up for dinner anyway so he wouldn’t worry anyone. He dried off his hair and made his way slowly to the dining hall, careful not to jar his torso.

Everyone was already seated when he got there and the food was already in front of them. He sat down, noticing Lance’s concerned glances out of the corner of his eye. What Keith hadn’t prepared for was the strong scent of the food wafting in the room and from his plate before him. He felt like he was going to be sick.

Keith picked at his food with his fork but never took a bite. He sipped the water from his glass and that’s all he was able to choke down before he had had it. He needed to get out of here before he lost all dignity.

He excused himself and left abruptly. Once he was out of sight, he ran down the hall and into a bathroom, vomiting into the nearest toilet. The ache in his stomach was getting stronger. He just needed to rest. That was all.

He went back to his bedroom and lay down in bed. A moment later, there was a knock at the door. “Keith? You okay?”

It was Lance. Keith groaned. He didn’t want anyone seeing him like this, especially Lance. “Come in,” he croaked.

Lance entered and Keith prepared himself for the jokes.

“Came to make fun of me for throwing up?” he said, staring up at the ceiling.

Instead of the usual humor, Lance’s voice was calm and caring. “You did? Are you feeling bad?”

Keith turned to look at him and was surprised to see concern in his eyes. Huh, that’s different. “I think it’s a stomach virus or something. I’ll be fine.”

“Oh, that’s too bad. Here, I brought you something.” He placed a plate of pie on Keith’s nightstand.

Keith chuckled, but winced and brought his hand to his aching stomach, rubbing at it mindlessly. “You brought me dessert?”

Instead of answering, Lance was swift to move to his side, his face in a hard frown. “Are you in pain? Does your stomach hurt?”

Keith flinched as he tried sitting up, but managed to lean his back against the wall. “A bit. It’s been kind of achy all day.” Keith raised an eyebrow and looked him in the eye. “Lance, why do you care so much? You’re acting kind of. . . strange.”

Lance blushed and looked down at his hands as he took a deep breath. “Keith, I have something to tell you and I’ve been hesitating since I didn’t know if you felt the same, but since you’re asking and all and can’t exactly walk away from me right now, I um, I sorta, kinda. . . like you?” he said, with a questioning look on his face.

Keith said nothing at first, just taking it all in, his face unreadable. There was no look of disgust at least, so hopefully the confession wasn’t too out of line.

“Well, say something, dumbo. My heart’s racing and now I hope you don’t hate me.”

“Hate you?” Keith said without missing a beat. He put his hand on Lance’s knee, making Lance’s heart skip a beat. “Why would I hate you? No, Lance, I kind of like you, too.”

Keith’s confession got Lance’s spirits soaring and a smile graced his lips. “Really?” Lance asked. “You’re not playing around with me?”

“I’m serious,” Keith said. Another jolt of pain stabbed his stomach, but this time, the pain moved to his right side. He yelped and grabbed at it with his hands.

Lance’s eyes went to Keith’s stomach. “Are you okay? What’s the matter?”

“It’s nothing. Just my side,” he said, closing his eyes as he rode out the pain.

Lance sat down next to him on the bed. “Keith, you might want to get that checked out, or maybe Coran can fix up a pod for you.”

Keith groaned. The worst of the pain in his side had passed, but now it was a dull ache. “Pods don’t work on sickness. I’ll be fine.”

“Can I get you something?” He thought about maybe bringing him some warm soup from the kitchen, and started heading that way. “There’s soup.”

Keith’s hand caught his knee and pulled him back. “Lance, don’t go! Can’t you just stay with me? For a little while?”

He couldn’t say no to those sleepy, tired yet desperate eyes. What was even more gratifying was that those pleading eyes wanted him, of all paladins, Keith wanted him to stay with him! His stomach did a flip of excitement and he smiled gently. “Yeah, sure, Keith.”

Keith patted the space next to him on the bed. Lance swallowed and took off his shoes and lay next to the sick boy. Keith smiled weakly at him and Lance took that as a cue that maybe it would be okay to put his arm around him.

He worried that would be too much too soon, but Keith immediately lowered himself back on his pillow and nuzzled himself into Lance’s side. Lance rubbed his back gently and saw Keith’s eyes shut. Lance never thought he’d be able to get this close to Keith, not in a million years. He rubbed his fingers up and down his covered back, waiting for when Keith would roll over and sock him, but the punch never came.

He studied Keith’s face. It was pale and sweaty, and Keith’s brows knitted together like he was in pain. Keith sucked in a breath and put his hand to his side again and Lance heard a slight grunt leave his lips.

Lance put his hand on top of Keith’s, his emotions now overcome with worry. “Does it hurt that bad?” he asked Keith. Keith opened his eyes and responded with a moan.

Lance didn’t think this was just a simple stomach bug. There might be more to it. “Keith, I-“

He was cut off by Allura’s voice echoing the halls. “Paladins, I need you! It’s an emergency!”

“You stay here,” Lance said to Keith. “I’ll go see what she needs.”

Lance stepped outside and was met with Hunk, Pidge, Shiro, and Allura. Allura explained that a prisoner needed rescuing from the Galra and it was either now or never.

“But Allura-“

“Lance, I don’t have time to argue. If we don’t act now, they’ll go into hyperdrive. Now, everyone suit- wait, where’s Keith?” Allura said, just now realizing he was missing.

“Right here,” Keith said.

Everyone turned to see him. He was tired looking, his eyes sunken with dark spots beneath them. His cheeks had lost all color to them.

“What are you doing up?” Lance demanded. “You’re sick!”

“I’m fine, Lance,” Keith argued.

“What do you mean? You’re sick?” Allura said.

“I’m fine. It’s just a little stomach bug or something, but I can handle it.”

Before Lance could protest, Allura called out her orders and everyone was off getting ready to enter their lions and prepare to go to war, leaving the two of them alone in the hallway.

Lance put his hands on his hips. “Keith, I don’t think this is a good idea. You could cause yourself more harm.”

They began walking towards Keith’s room and Keith had his hand over his aching side, which was becoming even more painful, but he’d never tell Lance that. “You heard Allura. It sounded pretty urgent, and we’ll need to form Voltron. You and I both know we can’t do that without me.”

He had a point there. “Are you sure? You can barely walk.”

Keith was silent as he painfully walked the rest of the way to his room ahead of Lance.

“Just promise me this, Keith. If things get bad and you feel worse, tell us and give up, okay?”

Keith turned around. “Okay. Promise.”

Keith suited up and headed to his Lion. The team flew off together, with Shiro in the lead. Allura stayed back in the castle with Coran. They seemed to travel forever. Keith’s side was flaring up much worse than before. He hoped they would get somewhere soon. He heard Allura in his headset saying they were getting closer.

As they proceeded farther out into space, a jolt of pain stabbed him in the side again, forcing him to double over in pain. He couldn’t help the scream this time that tore through his lips and into the headset for all to hear.

All the paladins were suddenly in his ears, asking what was wrong.

“Keith, are you okay?” Lance’s voice held the most weight, as his was laced with panic.

Keith couldn’t speak. His side was throbbing and burning with pain. It was all he could do to hold his side with one hand and steer his lion with the other, much less keep himself upright in his seat. Tears were streaming down his face, blurring his vision. He was burning hot and wanted to throw his suit off.

“Lance!” was all he got out.

“Baby, just hang in there. I’m coming,” Lance said without thinking.

“Baby?” all the paladins were thinking.

“I can’t—” Keith said, and that’s when pain tore at his side, blinding him with pain. He lost control of his lion and fell from his seat. He shut his eyes and lay on the floor, covering his right side with both hands, trying to breath through the pain. He was paralyzed with agony, unable to get up or talk.

Lance and the paladins followed Keith’s lion as it flew with a mind of its own. It raced through space and then plummeted straight towards an unknown planet.

“Keith, what’s wrong? Are you there?” Lance asked, shaking in fear.

“Keith, it’s Pidge. You’ve got to take back the controls. You’re about to crash!”

“He’s not responding,” Shiro said. “Keith!”

Keith heard the shoutings, the fear in everyone’s voices, but he was in too much pain to react.

“Keith, get up for me. It’s Lance! You have to do something!”

Keith tore open his eyes at the sound of Lance’s concerned voice. The pain was starting to fade a little, and he forced himself up and managed to grip the brakes. Just before crashing into the planet, he was able to at least slow down the impact.

Keith was tossed around his lion like a ragdoll, falling hard on his right shoulder with a sickening crack. His cries were muffled by the sound of his ship colliding and finally settling on wherever it was he had crash landed.

The other paladins were able to follow and landed their lions next to him within minutes. Voices stirred him from his sleep. He woke up, his mind fuzzy and his whole body hurting. He felt hands at his neck, cradling his head and stroking his hair. His eyes focused and noticed Lance’s face first, hovering above his face. The other paladins were staring wide-eyed at him, looking relieved to see him awaken.

“Keith, are you okay?” Shiro said.

Lance reached out to hold Keith’s hand, and Keith clasped it, holding on tightly. He couldn’t respond. He felt another wave of pain stab him in the side, this one even worse than before. He let go of Lance’s hand and put it on his side as he screamed in pain, as if trying to hold himself together.

His other arm was useless as it had been injured in the crash. He couldn’t move it at all without feeling severe pain. Keith thrashed around, crying from the pain in his side and then crying out when he accidently jostled his shoulder. His whole body felt bruised and beaten.

Allura cut in, asking what had happened. “Is Keith okay?”

Hunk took this time to answer. “Keith’s not doing very well. Can a pod fix him?”

Pidge noticed Hunk’s sullen face, which was an unusual expression for him. She put a hand on his shoulder to comfort him, smiling at him silently.

“I’m afraid pods only heal injuries. From the description of his symptoms, it sounds like Keith has appendicitis,” she stated. “And neither I nor Coran can help him with this. We’ll need to find someone on this planet for help. It’s his only hope.”

Meanwhile, Lance kneeled at Keith’s side, stroking his face and helping to hold his side with his own hand, not really sure if he was helping or not. He only wanted to comfort him and help him feel less pain in whatever way possible.

After the initial pain from his side waned a little, Keith opened his eyes to look at Lance. “Lance, my shoulder hurts.”

Lance’s eyes widened at the news. Of course. He’d been so worried about his side that he forgot that he had crashed. With a landing like that, it’s likely had had more injuries. “Okay, buddy. I’m glad you told us. Does anything else hurt?”

His side hurt so bad and it was hard to register any other pain in his body, but he couldn’t deny the soreness. “Everything hurts, Lance.”

Lance scanned his body and saw a dark spot on his knee. He pulled up his pant leg to find a shallow cut on his knee. “You’ve got a cut on your knee that’s bleeding. Not too bad.”

Keith just nodded, wiping at the tears on his cheeks.

“Listen, I’m gonna feel for injuries, okay? Tell me if you feel any tenderness.” Keith nodded so Lance proceeded. He started with his feet and then rotated his ankles. When there was no complaint from Keith, he moved onto his legs. He applied some pressure as he slid both hands up his calves, and he saw Keith wince. “Something here hurt?”

“My right leg,” Keith said. Lance lifted his pants to find a couple really dark bruises on his shin. He informed Keith what was wrong and continued his check. He slid his hands to his thighs and patted them down gently.

Not wanting to spend too much time on this area, he then went to Keith’s hips. From his hips, he spread his hands across the length of Keiths’ chest, feeling his ribcage. Another flinch from Keith’s face, followed by an “ouch,” made him stop. “Hurts here?”

Keith nodded.

“Mind if I look?” Lance asked bashfully. When Keith gave his permission, Lance lifted his t-shirt. The right side of his chest was dotted with cuts and bruises that spread from his lower front to his side. He must have been thrown around a lot in his lion during the crash to give him this much damage. Lance pressed on the bruises gently and Keith yelped and winced.

“Breathe in deeply,” Lance instructed. “Does it hurt?”

Keith did as he was told, but it wasn’t too bad.

“They might just be bruised then. That’s a good sign.” Lance lowered Keith’s shirt when Pidge had an announcement.

“From what I’ve found, there’s what looks like a medical center just five miles north of us,” Pidge said, looking at her computer.

“But how do we know these inhabitants can be trusted?” Shiro said, his arms folded across his chest.

“We don’t,” Pidge said. “But looking at Keith’s physical state, I think it’s a risk we’re going to have to take.”

Once everyone agreed, they decided they would make their way to this medical center. Lance picked up Keith carefully and helped him walk to Lance’s lion. Keith limped along with his good arm wrapped around Lance’s neck. When he was almost inside, another wave of pain seared his side, and Keith collapsed, falling down at Lance’s feet.

He yelled in pain, and Lance dropped down next to him, letting him squeeze his hand. Lance brushed back the damp hair from Keith’s forehead, realizing that Keith also had a fever judging from the heat he felt from it. “You’re gonna be okay, Keith. Shhh, it’s okay.”

When they arrived at the center, they were greeted with swords and knives pointed at them. “We come in peace,” Shiro said. “Our friend if sick and needs medical attention. Please, will someone help us?”

“What kind of payment can you give us?” the one in charge said.

“Whatever you need, just ask,” Shiro said. Keith screamed in pain again. “Please, he needs help.”

The creature agreed and they were ushered into the center. The inhabitants on this planet were strange looking, but for such a small planet, they seemed to have a capable hospital. It was clean enough and eased Lance’s mind a little, although it still worried him that these creatures were going to be working on his baby.

Keith was pried away from Lance’s arms and placed on a gurney. “Hey, careful with him! He’s hurt and he has pain in his side.”

“We’ll take care of him,” the creature said, pressing a claw to his chest. “You and the rest stay over here. We’ll call you when he’s done.”

Lance sat down wit a huff. He hated leaving Ketih alone with these things. What if they didn’t know anything about medicine? His mind came up of different nightmares, ones involving Keith flatlining on the table or the creatures cutting off his shoulder instead of fixing it. What had they just done to Keith? The paladins were all worried but tried reassuring each other for the next two hours.

Just as Lance was about to break through the doors and go see about Keith himself, the doctor came out. “Your friend is doing fine. We’ve taken out his appendix and you’re welcome to go see him.” They followed him to the room in haste, almost running all the way there.

Keith had on an oxygen mask and looked to be sleeping. His arm was in a sling and he was shirtless except for the bandages around his chest. His face looked peaceful, but tired.

The doctor spoke. “Your friend suffered an inflamed appendix, and it would have ruptured within the hour if you hadn’t gotten him help in time. He also has a broken shoulder, bruised leg, as well as several bruised ribs and a few other minor lacerations. He’ll be pretty sore for a few weeks.”

“Thanks, doctor,” Shiro said. “Your help is appreciated very much.”

“Now, about my payment,” the creature said. Shiro excused himself to pay for the service at the front desk.

Lance rubbed at Keith’s good arm and Keith began to stir. He blinked his eyes and his hand went to the oxygen mask, trying to pry it off.

“Hey, hey. Let’s leave that on for now, bud. How ya feel?” Lance asked, smiling.

Keith moaned. “Sore. What happened?” He moved his body and was rewarded by a stinging pain in his side. It was sharp, but not like it used to be. “Ow.”

“The doctor removed your appendix. Said it was about to rupture,” Lance said.

“Yeah, you got pretty lucky,” Hunk said, looking much happier than before. “Thanks to Pidge.”

“It was nothing,” Pidge said modestly, brushing the comment off. “I’m glad you’re better.”

“Are you okay?” Lance asked.

“My side doesn’t hurt as bad, only when I move, but now my ribs and shoulder hurts.” He looked down to notice the bandages around his chest and found his arm immobilized in a sling.

Lance explained to him his injuries from what the doctor told him and told him not to worry. “You’ll feel better soon. And besides, you’ve got me.”

Hunk and Pidge stared at him, a knowing look on their faces. “Yeah,” Pidge said. “About that?”

“You two have been acting awfully close today. Is there something you’re not telling us?” Hunk asked.

Lance and Keith grinned at each other, both blushing. “We’re kind of. . . together.” Lance put his arm around Keith.

That’s when Shiro walked in the door and fainted.

“Um, I’ll go get the nurse.” Hunk said.

He knew it. He and Pidge’s suspicions were right all along. He had to admit it was cute and he found himself smiling as he walked down the halls.

#whump #appendicitis #sick #crash #accident #injured #hurt #pain #agony #voltron #legendary defender #keith #lance #klance #pining #love #feeling #admit #shiro #allura #pidge #hunk

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