#medical procedure denied

[lemonberry-archives]

So Your Insurance Claim got Denied

currently combing through all of my instagram saves so I can document all the useful information and find all the small businesses and found this. The post I saved was a duet with @/arcelia_castle

You get the call saying your insurance has been denied. You say thank you and that you're going to file a fair hearing trial. They're going to try and fix it over the phone, you say no thank you and that you won't settle for an appeal, and you look up fair hearing trials in your state.

This means that your insurance company is going to have to bring the case to the state to try and explain why they think you don't need the procedure and your doctor is going to give the evidence of why you do need it.

Sometimes just saying you're going to do it and won't settle is "enough to motivate the insurance company."

[smokbeast]

YCH sales and Commissions will be closed for now while i finish my last remaining queue and rest up for recovery! Thank you so much all those who participated in them and supported me, i will update as much as i frequently can to my remaining clients on your pieces until then!

[boag]

I just FINALLY got that piece of glass out of my foot at 5:45 AM after being unable to walk since last night lmfao… I’m literally so proud of myself rn I got it so good with the tweezers and was so precise and barely felt a thing . Every other time me or my mom tried it hurt so fucking bad and I would just involuntarily flinch or pull my leg back 😭 I definitely wasn’t getting it at the right angle before but this time I inspected it v closely with my phone flashlight first and was able to figure out which direction it was poking out from

[thebibliosphere]

I’ve got my tumblr inbox turned off so I really have to commend the person who actually emailed me to let me know they don’t like the things I’ve posted about the UnitedHealth CEO being murdered on their commitment to their beliefs.

But seen as how you emailed me from a dud email that appears to be bouncing back replies and I really wanted to address something you said to me about violence begetting violence:

My migraine medication, the medication I was given for my debilitating neurological disease that has gotten so bad I spent most of this year actively suicidal, costs $1300 a month.

My insurance covered it. But only because my doctors office went to fucking war for me because I’m a high anaphylaxis risk for the drugs the insurance wanted me to try.

Because that’s the thing.

My doctors knew, based on my documented medical history, I likely wouldn’t be a good fit for the “first line” of preventative migraine drugs, but because of insurance, I had to be given drugs that were contradictory to my other life threatening conditions, because otherwise insurance wouldn’t cover anything else.

I failed them. Spectacularly and with an anaphylactic reaction to one of them. And I was still warned insurance would fight me because I hadn’t tried the remaining drug they wanted me to try.

A drug which I would have to take in an ER waiting room because my mast cell disease is unpredictable but insurance wouldn’t cover in-patient treatment to let me try it safely under medical supervision.

Is that not violence?

Were all the times I was denied coverage for vital and necessary procedures that could have prevented my disabilities from worsening not violence?

Maybe not in the sense you mean. But I assure you it felt very much like violence to me.

Do I condone murder? No, obviously. But I’m also sick and tired of people pretending that what is happening to the American people every day isn’t eugenics through class warfare.

Violence begets violence.

It sure fucking does.

Maybe these insurance companies should have thought of that first.

[frogeyedape]

So. You know the old internet adage? Don't feed the troll? My proposal up there equates to: don't feed the troll. The only "mistake" of the "this is just about trans men" argument here is to continue arguing with someone who's derailing. Just. Don't answer. Don't argue. Block if you need to. And move on. Don't. Feed. The. Troll.

What is derailing on one post is helpful commentary on another; the person derailing here is not wrong for saying what she did, she's wrong for where/when/who she said it to.

"Transandrophobia isn't real"

A few years back my grandparents and I wanted to see a gynecologist for reasons, I was under 18, but every gynecologist that worked with minors refused to take trans boys. I haven't had a single bit of medical transition unless you count birth control. I have a vagina and boobs. Everything about my body is female but I was denied care because my hair was short and I had a deeper voice.

And when I tried explaining this to a transphobe they went "Well yeah they don't want mentally ill people"

My exclusion was based off of me being too masculine. Y'know, the thing that transandrophobes claim doesn't exist?

Transmascs go through the same shit transfems do. Transandrophobes need to stop shitting on us to feel superior and get a fucking life.

[bbokicidal]

"I Don't Have A Girlfriend." - H.H [SKZ]

Summary : In which you go with Hyunjin to get his wisdom teeth removed.

Warnings : Hyunjin all doped up at the dentist for shits n giggles, felix/seungmin/changbin laughing at him, teasing banter, mention of binnie's bday gift from minho

"What year is it?"

"2024. Halfway through, baby." You laugh, hand coming up to the arm of the chair he lays in to rest there in case he tries to move around. And he does, sitting himself up a bit as if he's worried he's late for something.

Hyunjin huffs out a breath through his nose, turning his head to look at you. You can't deny that he looks god awful and adorable at the same time; Hair tousled, eyes puffy with sleep and cheeks swollen far more than usual from the medication and procedure he'd just undergone. "How long was I asleep?"

You pull your notification tab down with the tip of your index finger to check. "They put you under about an hour and a half ago, so you were asleep for.. I don't know, twenty minutes after they were done?"

"Twenty..." His voice trails off, soft and grumbly from just waking up. His lips press together before parting again, forced open by the gauze in his mouth and cheeks. His head turns towards the door and then down to the thin blanket placed over his body. Slowly, he begins to relax back into the chair.

Your hand comes up to rest along his cheek, brushing over the skin just barely before moving to pull hair back from his face. He blinks tiredly and keeps his eyes down, focused on the way his hands move under the blanket as he tries to pull it up further towards his shoulders. "Feeling okay, bubs?"

He huffs again, sighing out in what seems like distress that he's too sleepy to truly convey. "I have to go soon."

"Go where, baby?" You chuckle, curious on where his mind was wandering as the drugs slowly wore off.

His lips smack once, twice, and he blinks open his eyes again to look at you. It's a silly sight, his head tipped down toward the blanket and face pudgy with the angle. "I have a dinner date later. With ..."

You smile. "We rescheduled our dinner date for next week, Jinnie, remember? We'll have that dinner date eventually, don't worry."

"No.."

"No?" You grin this time, giggling out when he seems to reject the dinner offer. "You don't want to go on a dinner date with your girlfriend, baby?"

A few chuckles come from the screen of your phone. You'd facetimed Felix as soon as he'd asked you to after you'd told him Hyunjin was waking up. He insisted he needed to see what his hyung would be like all doped up at the dentist. So at the present moment, Felix's left eye and Seungmin's forehead fill the screen - and you know Changbin is lingering somewhere in the background.

Hyunjin clicks his tongue before his nose crinkles in careful regret. He adjusts in the chair, tugging the blanket fully up to his chin as he hums out. "I don't have a girlfriend."

Seungmin's laugh breaks the soft silence that fills the room and Hyunjin peeks open an eye in confusion as to where it came from.

"I'm your girlfriend, Jinnie." You remind him in a playful tone, still laughing through it all. Your hand finds his under the blanket and as the words settle in, his brows crinkle together.

"Uh, no." He blinks a few times at you, lips pursing. "I have a wife waiting for me at home. You can't be my girlfriend."

Your expression falls deadpan - but it all seemed worth it when Changbin's laughter exploded from your phone speaker, mixed with the sound of Felix dropping his phone as he fell to the floor cackling and Seungmin hitting the couch cushions in amusement.

Your eyes roll and you look back to your boyfriend, amused. "Right. Forgot you were married."

His lips purse once more, tongue sliding over them slowly as he realizes they're numbed still, before his eyes slip back shut in peace. "Mhm. My wife has pink underwear, too."

"Your wife has WHAT?"

[feminist-space]

"In an unprecedented move, Anthem Blue Cross Blue Shield plans representing Connecticut, New York and Missouri have unilaterally declared it will no longer pay for anesthesia care if the surgery or procedure goes beyond an arbitrary time limit, regardless of how long the surgical procedure takes. The American Society of Anesthesiologists calls on Anthem to reverse this proposal immediately.

Anesthesiologists provide individualized care to every patient, carefully assessing the patient’s health prior to the surgery, looking at existing diseases and medical conditions to determine the resources and medical expertise needed, attending to the patient during the entire procedure, resolving unexpected complications that may arise and/or extend the duration of the surgery, and working to ensure that the patient is comfortable during recovery.

Payment for anesthesia services is based on several factors, including the exact amount of time for anesthesiologists to deliver care preoperatively, during the operation, and when transitioning the patient to the recovery unit afterwards. With this new policy, Anthem will arbitrarily pre-determine the time allowed for anesthesia care during a surgery or procedure. If an anesthesiologist submits a bill where the actual time of care is longer than Anthem's limit, Anthem will deny payment for the anesthesiologist’s care. With this new policy, Anthem will not pay anesthesiologists for delivering safe and effective anesthesia care to patients who may need extra attention because their surgery is difficult, unusual or because a complication arises.

“This is just the latest in a long line of appalling behavior by commercial health insurers looking to drive their profits up at the expense of patients and physicians providing essential care,” said Donald E. Arnold, M.D., FACHE, FASA. “It’s a cynical money grab by Anthem, designed to take advantage of the commitment anesthesiologists make thousands of times each day to provide their patients with expert, complete and safe anesthesia care. This egregious policy breaks the trust between Anthem and its policyholders who expect their health insurer to pay physicians for the entirety of the care they need.”

ASA urges people concerned about Anthem’s proposal to contact their state insurance commissioner or their state legislator.

In June 2024, Elevance Health, the corporate name for Anthem, reported a 24.12% increase in its year-over-year net income to $2.3 billion and a 24.29% increase in its year-over-year net profit margin."

https://www.asahq.org/about-asa/newsroom/news-releases/2024/11/anthem-blue-cross-blue-shield-will-not-pay-complete-duration-of-anesthesia-for-surgical-procedures

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 31: Forced Proximity

Summary: John and Kyle are gone. You have no choice but to lean on the alpha you've betrayed, the alpha that hates you.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 11,071 words

Warnings: ANGST, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, language, anxiety, reader has a panic attack and several breakdowns, Simon being mean, ANGST, depression, lots of mentions of vomiting and the reader does get sick quite a bit though it's not descriptive in any way, ANGST, heat cycles, pseudoscience, medical stuff (that's probably very wrong), brief mention of needles, medical procedures (nothing very detailed), ANGST, very heavy emotionally again, some very light fluff like barely there but nothing compared to the ANGST

A/N: I did it. I finally got it up. It's uh...it's a heavy one again, I'll tell you that much. You'll hate me even more but oh well. I expected that through this part of the story. I'm so evil I know.

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

“I don't like this. It's too...”

“Convenient?”

“Suspicious.”

“I know. But we don't have much of a choice in this.” John says, staring at Simon and Johnny. “You keep your eyes on her at all times. Stay in the barracks when you can. If you have to leave the barracks together, she goes with you.”

“We won't let her out of our sight.” Simon says. “If anything happens, Kate will be the first to know.”

“Good.” John says. He trusts the two of them to look after you. Yet he can't deny the timing of this is a bit suspicious. “We'll be back as soon as we can. Take good care of our girl.”

Two weeks. 

It’s been two weeks since John and Kyle left. 

Despite the fact it’s not the longest someone has been gone, it doesn’t ease the ache in your chest, the pain slowly carving its way into your very soul. You haven’t spoken to them. There’s been no word. Nothing. It could be a good thing. Sometimes no news is good news, and you suppose it’s better than a phone call saying they’ve died in some horrible accident. 

You keep waiting for that phone call. 

Every time Johnny or Simon’s phone rings, you begin to panic, fear eating away at that hole in your chest. It’s bad news, it’s Kate calling to tell them your alpha and beta aren’t coming home. 

You’ve hardly been able to relax, tense and jumpy at the littlest things. Being enclosed in the barracks at all times isn’t helping. You haven’t left once, not even to the med center. Dr. Keller has been coming to the barracks, more than she normally would for your appointments. You wonder if it was Johnny’s doing to try and help you relax, or Simon’s doing in hope you stop stinking up the barracks with the sour scent of nerves and fear. 

Simon has been distant still, avoiding you as much as he can. It’s impossible to avoid you completely, though, as Johnny can’t watch you 24/7. It’s a bit claustrophobic, the way they hover, always keeping one eye on you. It’s been a bit suffocating for the last three weeks, but with John and Kyle gone...it’s almost worse. 

Johnny has tried to fill that void, tried to support you in any way he can, but it hasn’t worked. You know it’s Johnny, you love Johnny, yet not even he can fill the void that has become your life without your alpha. 

You hate it. 

You hate their job, you hate that it takes them from you. You hate the uncertainty, the constant fear and worry that makes you sick. You hate that it’s dragged you into it. You know they were digging for the perpetrator of the cameras, who put them up, who ordered them to be put up, who potentially wanted to look into your personal life in such a violating way. The sudden deployment feels too suspicious, too sudden to be coincidence. 

But as John says, entertaining conspiracies won’t get you anywhere. 

Still...it smells fishy to you. 

The hole in your chest has left you in a constant state of uneasiness which has left you on the verge of tears constantly. Every day that passes without word of a tragedy or that they’re coming home makes your stomach churn, tears constantly brimming in your eyes. John’s shirt is constantly in your grasp, a dirty one you’d fished out of the bottom of his laundry basket, soaked in his scent. It’s beginning to fade, slowly eroding away until there won’t be anything left. Then you’ll grab another and another until you have none left. His room still smells like him, his pillows still fresh with his scent. 

You know it will fade, though, and fade fast. 

You’ve been avoiding spending too much time in his room and Kyle’s in favor of keeping their scents in there as long as possible. The fading of their scents is like an omen, marking a fading of their presence in your life, of the bond between you. The constant fear that you’ll forget them, what they sound like, what they smell like, what they look like. 

It makes you physically ill. 

That painful churning in your stomach is back as you sit on the couch in the rec room, curled up as far from Simon as you can get. Simon is still angry at you, at your betrayal of his trust. So much progress down the drain because you proved you’re not trustworthy after he trusted you enough to begin opening up. You still hate yourself for it, for keeping the secret for that long. Even a month would have been better and would have had less consequences for everyone. Maybe then you might have caught the camera in the bear sooner, and not been so violated during some of your most private moments. 

Some of those moments with Simon. 

How violated does he feel, having such vulnerable moments between you recorded and viewed by someone out there? You can’t help but think back to that night when he came back, and the morning after. Someone watched you. The bear had been right there, those black beady eyes staring right at the two of you. How many times had you fucked the others in your bed, the bear sitting there, watching, projecting those moments to whoever was on the other side. 

Your heat. 

The bear hadn’t been looking then, but it had been listening. It knows what happened, every last detail, every slam of the bed against the wall, every knot. 

It makes you sick. 

Your stomach churns, your arms wrapping around your middle as you let out a shaky breath. You’re going to puke again, the bile rising in your throat. The intense tingling in your hands is starting again, your fingers curling in as your extremities begin to go numb. You’re panicking again. 

Instead of vomit, a choked sob leaves your lips, your tears hot and burning on your cheeks, stinging like they’re composed of acid. 

Simon glances up from his phone, his face the mask of indifference that it has been for three weeks. A mask that he had worn for the first few months after your arrival. “What?” He asks, his tone flat and voice rough. 

You can’t answer him, too busy hyperventilating and sobbing where you sit. You can’t even think if you wanted to, your body aching as your muscles begin to tighten. You can’t distress. You’ve been fighting the urge since the day the truth came out. 

You can’t trust Simon to help you. 

You’re not even sure he knows how to. 

Of course, it would be easy to call Dr. Keller, get her to help him, but you’re not sure he’d want to. Could he be so angry and betrayed he’d just stand there and watch you distress yourself to death? 

He wouldn’t. He’d have to explain himself to John, why he let it happen. It would tear the pack apart. It would tear them apart. You wouldn’t put it past John to try and rip Simon’s throat out with his teeth in anger. It would be a bigger betrayal than yours, and Simon wouldn’t let you lose your spot at the top of that list. 

“Fuck.” Simon breathes, setting his phone down before moving in front of you. He lowers himself onto one knee, reaching for your arms. If you had been more aware you might have flinched away, but the lack of oxygen to your brain is making everything fuzzy. 

Simon grips your elbows, tugging you forward gently. Your legs are forced off the edge of the couch, your body upright as Simon holds your arms in his grasp, your legs between his as he kneels in front of you. You stare down at him, the sudden change in position shocking you for a moment. You choke around another sob, eyes blurry as you try to look at him. 

“I need you to breathe.” He says, squeezing your arms gently. 

You can’t. 

Your breaths are sobs, wracking your body, tearing at your lungs. Your chest hurts, aching and burning as you quickly begin spiraling out of control. 

“Look at me.” He says, shifting his hold to your wrists, taking them into one hand before he grabs your chin with the other. He keeps your head still, locked on his face. His eyes are blurry to your own teary ones as you look right at him, looking through the mass of blurry black that surrounds him. “Breathe.” He says, his voice rougher than normal, rumbling with the command of his alpha around the edges. 

It goes straight to your head, a shiver running down your spine. Your body shudders in response, your next sob catching painfully in your throat. You cough, lungs spasming as your body suddenly begins to follow his order automatically. Simon lets you go as you attempt to gain control over your out of control body. One part of your brain is still panicking, still pushing towards distress while the other fights to follow the alpha’s command. It’s a battle, your instincts at war with each other. 

The next inhale is a gasp, inhaling until your breath stutters and your lungs ache. You let it out slowly, the flood of oxygen making you shake in Simon’s hold. He keeps his hand around your wrists until your inhales stop stuttering and your muscles start to relax. 

He slowly releases you, pushing himself up to sit on the coffee table. You’re surprised it can hold so much weight after it’s been sat on so many times. Not even a creak as Simon lowers himself onto it. 

He rests his elbows on his knees as he stares at you. His figure begins to get clearer as your tears slow, no longer blurring your vision. You're expecting the sharp sting of his harsh gaze, or worse the indifference you've grown used to over the last three weeks. 

Instead there's a soft look in his eyes. Not soft as you would describe Johnny's, but soft compared to what it has been. Pity, you think. 

“You're a fucking mess.” He finally says. 

You laugh. You can't help it. The deadpan delivery of such a him statement in response to everything has a laugh escaping your lips. You wipe your eyes, sniffling. He hates it, hearing your sniffles. It annoys him when you cry, it always has. 

You push yourself back onto the couch, pulling your knees up again as you stare at him. There's a slight tremble to your fingers still as you sit there in silence for a moment. 

“I'm sorry.” You say, still looking at him. “If I had just said something sooner...” You swallow thickly as you stumble over your words. “None of us would have...the camera would have been found sooner...we wouldn't have...both of us...”

“You shouldn't apologize if you don't even know what to say.” He says, the softness in his gaze hardening again. 

“It's not that it's just...” You take a breath, trying to straighten out your thoughts. “I feel so guilty. This is all my fault and if I had just said something sooner, none of this would have happened. What happens next is my fault too. I know you and John have been digging into who is behind it and I know how risky that is. They know that we all know now, and...I'm scared of what might happen.”

You let out a long breath at your confession and attempt at an apology, squeezing your fingers together as they begin to tremble even more. You want to look away, his gaze piercing into you again. You're reminded of the moment the words had fallen from your lips that had caused this in the first place. Your heart begins thumping in your chest, your breathing picking up slightly at the memory. Will he get angry again? Will he snap at you and drag you down the hall to lock you in your room until John and Kyle get back, or Johnny calms him enough to rescue you?

“I feel so violated.” Your voice shakes. “I can't even imagine what it's been like for you. It took us so long to get to that point and...” You swallow the bile trying to rise in your throat. “I'm so sorry.” Tears blur your vision again. “I didn't know...I didn't think...I was so stupid.”

He scoffs. “You are.” His words are sharp, and they sting as they slice through you. “Fucking stupid, I'd say.” You wince at his words. “But you’re inexperienced. You don’t think about things like we do. No matter how much everyone has tried to drill it into your head, you’ll never truly understand until you experience it yourself.” He holds your gaze for a moment. “I hope you never have to.” 

You stare at him, the meaning of his words not lost on you. You’ve put yourself in danger, you’ve put all of them in danger by keeping this all a secret. Whoever put those cameras up knew you were keeping it a secret and hadn’t done anything in retaliation against you for finding them and destroying them. Maybe that was their plan all along. They knew you’d keep it a secret and use that to their advantage. Strike when they least expected it, or perhaps wait for the moment the truth inevitably came out and then strike. 

The thought has a cold chill running down your spine. 

You’re afraid for a different reason now. 

John and Kyle are gone. Anything could happen to them and it wouldn’t look suspicious. Or whoever put those cameras up wanted everyone split up. Attack when there’s less knights defending the castle. 

A shiver runs through you, making you curl in on yourself. The feeling of being watched is back. The darkness peeking out from around the blinds over the rec room windows suddenly feels very threatening. 

“What’s goin’ on in here?” 

A startled yelp leaves your lips as you whip around to face Johnny where he’s leaning against the door to the rec room. Simon’s body tenses in response to your fearful yelp, an unconscious motion he has no control over. Alphas will always have the drive to protect the omegas in their pack. It’s a natural protective mechanism, no matter how they may be feeling about said omega. 

Simon’s body relaxes as you do, putting a hand over your heart to try and calm yourself down again. 

“Jumpy this evenin’.” Johnny says, entering the rec room. He steps up to the couch, bending down to rest his hands on the arm next to you. “Didnae mean to scare ye.” He says softly. “Ready tae get to bed?” 

You nod. “Yeah. I am.” 

“Come on.” He holds out his hand and you take it, letting him help you up off the couch. “We’re usin’ yer shower, Si.” He says. 

Simon rolls his eyes. “Course.” 

“Simon?” You say before Johnny can pull you from the rec room. The alpha turns to look at you. “I am sorry.” 

He stares at you for a long, tense moment. “I know.” 

Johnny leads you down the hallway, his hand on your lower back. He’s gotten touchy again, letting his hand rest lower and lower on your back, brushing your breasts as he pulls the covers up around you at night. He refuses to let you shower without sitting on the toilet lid. You know the chances of Simon opening up like that again are slim, if at all. You’ve ruined that opportunity, and you’ll have to be satisfied with where he draws that line permanently. 

“Have a good conversation?” Johnny asks. 

You nod. “He called me ‘fucking stupid’.” 

Johnny nearly chokes for a second, covering his mouth to hide a laugh. “He’s certainly not a man of eloquence.” 

You shrug. “I mean, I don’t exactly disagree with him.” 

Johnny leads you into Simon’s room, steering you to the bathroom. Your stuff is already inside from the unanimous decision to solely use Simon’s bathroom for ease and also safety. 

Your towel is neatly on the rack next to Simon’s and Johnny’s, all folded the same way and hung evenly apart. Your soap and shampoo are neatly placed next to his, along with your toothbrush and other products on the sink. Always so neat and organized, despite his anger at you. 

Can’t break his system even after you break his trust. 

You pull your shirt over your head after starting the water, letting it get warm. Johnny stands behind you in the doorway, and you know he’s watching. You strip your shorts and underwear off, Johnny grunting quietly as you bend over to add them to your pile of dirty clothes. You’ve been tempted to leave them on the floor for the past two weeks just to peeve, but you’ve riled Simon up enough. With your luck he’d just toss them in the trash. 

The water is hot as it pelts your skin, your shoulders relaxing as it begins to loosen the stress of the day. The emptiness in your chest continues to eat away at you, never disappearing despite what happens. Your stomach churns, the nausea returning. You stand under the spray, letting the water pour over your head as you attempt to calm the continuous twisting in your abdomen. 

The shower door slides open, another body joining you before it slides closed. Warm skin presses against your back as arms slip around you, pulling you out from directly under the spray. You rest back against Johnny’s chest as he leans his cheek against the top of your head. 

“I miss them.” You say quietly, just audible over the shower. 

“I know.” Johnny says, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. 

“When will they be back?” You ask him, even though you know he can’t tell you. 

“Hard tae say.” He says, grabbing your strawberry scented soap from next to Simon’s. He’s just been using Simon’s soap, something you probably assume he does often anyway. “Kate will update us as soon as there’s a possible ETA.” 

“I don’t know how much longer I can take.” You say as he begins to wash your back. 

“I know.” He says, gently massaging the knots in your back, trying to help you relax. “I wish I could get them home faster. I wish it had been us instead of them for your sake.” 

His words make you feel guilty, but you both know it’s not anyone’s fault. John is your alpha, you belong to him, you were claimed by him. You’ll always hurt more about your alpha and beta’s absence than the other members of your pack can comfort you. If Simon had claimed you, things would have been different. The ache in your chest would have been less intense as you would still have an alpha you could lean on. 

You’d always miss John, but if you had Simon, the black hole slowly devouring you would have slowed its progress. 

Four weeks. 

A month. 

It's been a month since John and Kyle left. The familiar hole in your chest has widened, a gaping black hole now threatening to swallow you and string you out until you’re nothing but particles lost in its center. It’s worse than the hole Simon left when he went on his solo deployment, it’s worse than the hole they all left when they went on their first mission. Neither of those previous deployments lasted this long, and despite Johnny's attempts to console you, you don’t feel any better. 

There’s been no contact. 

A month with no contact, a month with no word. You'd know if something had happened. Even if you got no word on it, you would know. That sense that omegas have when something happens to the bond would be screaming. 

It's been a rough four weeks.

There’s a heaviness that’s started to permeate the air as you try to adjust to the prolonged absence of your alpha. It’s nearly every day that you’re breaking down now, standing in John’s room to catch any whiff of him that’s left. You’ve worn the scent off his bed, his pillows, his clothes. You’ve run out of shirts that smell like him. 

You’re terrified they might fade from your memory entirely. Kyle’s scent had disappeared quicker, fading fast until you were left unable to even picture the sea. The beach is a blurry, distant memory, the smell of the salty air faded and wiped away. 

Still you cling to their shirts, as if you can hold them through the fabric. You carry them everywhere, packing them from room to room as you float around in a daze. 

You’ve left the barracks once in four weeks for a training session that neither of them could miss. You’d gotten looks as you sat there, the sole audience member, but you're not quite sure what had happened or even what the training was far. You had been far away, lost in your own head, the haze of depression and grief numbing you to everything. 

Dr. Keller continues to visit you in the barracks, still more than you normally would see her. You miss her office, the soft warmth of it, the plants and the colors lacking from the sterilized prison that is the barracks. It has become like a prison. You’re trapped inside, unable to even wander around alone. You feel like the princess locked in her tower under the watchful eye of the guards keeping her trapped inside. You need someone to come and rescue you, someone to set you free so you can at least wander the tower alone. 

You want your alpha. 

You miss John and Kyle desperately, their absence chewing away at your insides. The hole in your chest continues to widen as the days pass, consuming more and more of you as you slip deeper and deeper into the black hole of depression. Johnny is being affected too, sucked in by the gravitational pull of the black hole you have become. Even Simon is starting to feel it, softening a bit more towards you. He’d even let your hands brush a couple of times when he’s escorted you places, and he didn’t yank them away like you might pass some disease onto him. 

You wouldn’t necessarily call him affectionate, even before all of this, but this is the first glimpse you’ve gotten of him being back to where the two of you were before you fucked everything up. You know it’s not going to happen overnight. It might never get back to what it was. He might simply be acting out of sympathy, and out of necessity because of your pain and grief being channeled through the pack bonds. Sometimes you wonder if John and Kyle can feel it too from wherever they are in the world. 

You miss them so much it hurts. 

The tears slip down your cheeks as you sit on the couch in the rec room. Johnny is off taking his turn to work out. It’s early, the sky still grey outside, the perfect epitome of how you feel inside. Simon is seated in his usual spot, book in hand. Your own that he had grabbed is still on the coffee table. You’re staring at it, tears gliding down your cheeks as you hold your knees against your chest. It’s become almost a normal occurrence, the tears, the blank staring, the lack of desire to do anything, even the position you’re seated in.

Simon glances up at you as you sniffle again, lowering his book slightly. “What?” His tone isn't annoyed per se, but you know he has to be tired of your constant blubbering. 

“Tell me they’ll be alright.” You say, your voice shaking. 

“You know I can’t-” He starts, but you cut him off. 

“I need you to tell me.” You sob, your gaze lifting to the black screen of the TV. “I can’t take it. I can’t do this.” 

He lets out a sigh, closing his book. You jump as the couch sinks down on your left, Simon taking a seat next to you. The flinch is subconscious as he reaches over to grip your chin and turn your face to look at him. Your tears slide down your cheeks, wetting his fingers. 

“They’ll be alright.” He says, eyes hard as he looks at you. He’s lying but you need to hear it. “They’ve been gone for far longer than this before. Trust Price knows what he’s doing. He’s going to do everything in his power to come back. We’ll know if something happens. Laswell will let us know.” 

You know that, you know all of it. Yet it does little to calm the pain in your chest. “I miss them.” You sob, Simon’s eyes softening as you continue to cry. “My stomach hurts.” 

You’ve been nauseous since the day the truth came out almost five weeks ago. The nausea has been churning in your stomach, making you constantly on the edge of vomiting. It’s the stress, the combination of the truth coming out and your alpha being gone. You’ve been choking food down, eating only out of necessity. 

Simon lets out a sigh, releasing your chin to wrap an arm around you. His other hand drops to rest on your stomach. It’s warm through the fabric of your shirt, applying gentle pressure. He smells like alpha, different from John, but still an alpha. The tears continue to fall as he holds you, your body slowly leaning closer and closer to him. He doesn’t complain, doesn’t even try to push you away as you fall against his side. 

Your stomach is churning, gnawing. It’s not an unusual feeling. It’s felt this way for the last few weeks. It’s never woken you up before, though. You blink in the darkness of Johnny’s room, his arm still thrown over you. The gnawing continues to intensify as you continue to be pulled from your semi-peaceful sleep, becoming more and more aware. 

You’re hungry. 

You slowly unravel yourself from Johnny’s snake-like hold, ready to slip into the rec room to peruse your snack stash. Instead you’re pulled back onto the bed by the arm that slips around your waist. 

“Where ye goin’?” Johnny rasps, still half asleep. 

“I’m hungry.” You whisper. 

He lets out a groan, letting go of you to rub a hand over his face. “Give me a minute.” 

You rise from the bed as he stretches, slowly sitting up as he draws himself from sleep. It’s just past one in the morning, neither of you having been asleep for long. You feel wide awake as the gnawing in your stomach continues to intensify. You rock back and forth on your feet, debating just going and letting him catch up. It’ll force him to wake up faster, and ease the gnawing hunger threatening to turn you inside out. 

Finally Johnny rises from the bed, stretching again as you impatiently open the door. He pads behind you to the rec room, watching as you dig out a bag of chips. He leans against the back of the couch as you stand there, devouring the chips like you haven’t eaten in days. You haven’t really eaten much in the last five weeks, so perhaps it’s finally catching up to you. You finish the bag but it’s not enough, so you grab another, devouring it halfway before you freeze. The bag begins to tremble in your hand, nearly falling from your grasp. 

Johnny is alert immediately as you begin to panic. “What?” He asks stepping closer to you, ready to defend you from whatever has you on edge. 

Your brain frantically does the math, thinking over the last few weeks. The bag falls to the floor as the realization slams into you like a bus. You turn to face Johnny, eyes wide in shock, fear shooting through you like lightning and clouding the rec room in the sour stench of omega fear.

Your lips tremble, the words stuttering out as you fight the panic rising in you, the nauseous churning of your stomach threatening to bring up the bag and a half of chips you just ate. Your fingers are shaking, clenching into fists again as they begin to go numb. Ragged breaths wheeze from your lungs as you stare at Johnny’s worried face, brows furrowed as he tries to understand what has you in a sudden panic at one in the morning. 

“My last heat was eleven weeks ago.” 

“The timeline is right,” Dr. Keller says, taking the blood pressure cuff off your arm. “The symptoms point to pre-heat.” 

You take another bite of your candy bar, eating half out of necessity and half because you’re nervous. You hadn’t even considered this when John left, but of course you didn’t know how long he would be gone. 

“Any word from John yet?” Dr. Keller asks as she packs the blood pressure monitor back into her bag. 

“None.” Johnny says, crossing his arms. “Kate sent out a message, but there’s been no response.” 

You’re numb to that fact, the hope that had filled you two days ago gone now that there’s been no word, not even for something like this. Simon had gone out of his way to call you when you needed him, but John can’t even send a simple message through, even a simple no. 

“We may have to consider alternative options if he can’t get back in time.” Dr. Keller says. 

He won’t get back in time. They’re all saying it silently. They all know it and so do you.

Your hands close into fists. You had hoped with your new pack and alpha you wouldn’t have to go through this again. But, of course with them having to put their job first, this was always a possibility. It was bound to happen eventually, you just hoped it wouldn’t be so soon. 

“We’ll wait as long as we can.” Dr. Keller says, looking at you. “We don’t have forever, though.” 

You shove the rest of the candybar in your mouth. You don’t want to say anything, you don’t want to do anything. You’re numb except for the incessant hunger. You’ll know when it’s getting close, when the hunger fades and you’re facing down the reality that your alpha won’t be here. You know he won’t. Even if Kate can get ahold of him, he won’t make it back in time. 

You’re going to have to do this alone. 

Well...perhaps not. 

Maybe there is someone that can help you after all. 

You’re terrified. You’re not sure how to even approach this, how to bring it up. It’s eating you alive, but you have to ask. You have to know. That small bubble of hope still rising in you that maybe, just maybe you can avoid the horror awaiting you. It’s a big request, but perhaps you can be convincing enough to play to his pity. 

“Simon?” You ask, your hands curled into fists so they’re not visibly shaking. Your hair is dripping onto your shirt, soaking it but you don’t care. The cold is keeping you aware, keeping you from floating away into your head again. 

He grunts, looking up from his phone. You’d used the shower in his room again so he could watch you while Johnny took his own shower. You won’t sleep in here. You’ll stay with Johnny just like you have for the last almost five weeks. It’s safer, should your heat start in the middle of the night again. And also because he doesn’t want you to stay with him.

This is stupid. It’s a stupid decision but you need to know. 

What if he says yes?  

“Can I...ask you something?” You say, shifting nervously on your feet. 

He pockets his phone before pushing himself up to stand. He towers over you as he moves closer, staring down at you as you look up at him. Sometimes you forget just how big he is, just how commanding his presence can be. You fight the urge to cower, to submit to him in fear. “What?” 

The nervous lump in your throat threatens to choke you, the memories of his anger directed right at you burning right through you. What if he gets mad again? What if he reacts the same way? You can’t know what he will do, though. You steady yourself, wrapping the fabric of your shirt around your hands. 

“Will...” You clear your throat. “Will you help me through my heat?” 

It’s a big request. A huge request. You’re asking him to jump past barriers he’d kept up even before, something he’d never even suggested or hinted at wanting to do even before your last heat. You’re asking him to jump past barriers he’s put back up since your betrayal, making it clear you’re not welcome back in, you’re not going to get to where you were before. The most he’s done is let you lean against him that one night in the rec room. 

You hope maybe he’ll agree out of necessity, maybe he’ll take pity on you and save you from the horrors of going through a heat without an alpha. It may be stupid, but you’re terrified of what’s awaiting you if he doesn’t agree. You don’t want to do it, you don’t want to be put to sleep and then wake up a week later sick and disoriented, and then spend the next few days still in the same state. 

It makes your stomach churn, and not from hunger. 

His eyes widen in shock as your words register. His hands tighten into fists at his sides, his shoulders tensing. You fight the urge to flinch at the movement, the sudden hardening of his stance before you. He wasn’t expecting it, obviously. You came out of left field with it, but you have to ask. You’ll beg if you need to. You’ll get on your knees and beg like your life depends on it if he wants you to. Anything just to avoid what’s looming in the near future. 

His eyes harden as he stares down at you, and you suddenly begin to regret your decision to ask. His gaze is piercing, taking you back to when you confessed. You’ve made a mistake. You’ve made a huge mistake. 

“No.” 

The word is simple, two letters, one syllable, yet it slices right through you. You should have expected it, should have known that would be your answer, but it still hurts. He knows, he knows John isn’t coming back in time. He knows you’re going to have to do this alone. You had hoped maybe pity would push him into saying yes, maybe he’d open up a bit more before your heat started, maybe he might be merciful. 

“I can’t.” He takes a step back, then another. His gaze softens to what you almost perceive as panic. He shakes his head. “I can’t.” 

So maybe it wasn’t anger at you keeping him from agreeing. You can feel it, the edge to his scent starting to cloud it, the way his hands open and close as he squeezes them into fists over and over. 

Tears burn your eyes as you stare at him, lifting your hands so they’re laced together in front of you. You knew that would be the answer, yet you can’t stop the disappointment. “Oh.” That's all you can say. You don’t trust yourself to say much else. 

You swallow the lump in your throat as Johnny appears in the doorway, looking between the two of you before his eyes settle on you. He can tell something happened, something transpired between the two of you while he was gone. How much of it he heard, you’re not sure. Perhaps none at all judging by the look on his face. 

“Ready for bed?” He asks, his gaze cautious. He’s trying to assess the situation, figure out what could have transpired to cause such a reaction between you and his alpha. He’ll never know. Not unless Simon tells him. 

“Yeah.” You breathe, scurrying out of Simon’s room before you can make more of a fool out of yourself. 

“H-How long will it take?” You ask, your heart thudding in your chest. Your pre-heat symptoms had stopped earlier this morning, the hunger gone, the itching beginning under your skin. 

“As soon as your temperature goes up, we’ll get started.” Dr. Keller says, sticking electrodes to your chest. You’ve already got the blood pressure cuff around your arm and pulse monitor on your finger. 

“Ye were prepared for this.” Johnny says, sitting next to the hospital bed. You’re in a private room, well away from any others, even though no one will know you’re in heat. There won’t be any scent projecting, no neediness, no aching. You won’t be aware at all that anything is happening as your body rapidly cycles through that sudden flood of hormones. 

Dr. Keller nods. “This was always a possibility, so I made sure I had everything on hand for when it did happen.” She takes your temperature again. “Tell me when you start to feel warm. The last thing I want to do is send you under too late.” 

Your skin crawls at her words, memories flashing back to the time you were put under too late. You trust Dr. Keller to take care of you, though. She’s far more competent and aware than that nurse had been. It’s her job to take care of you, to watch after you in moments like this. 

You just wish you could talk to John before you go under. 

You want to remember his voice when you come back out. 

“I’ll be here the whole time.” Johnny says, taking your hand, obviously sensing your discomfort. 

He’s brought a bag of things with him, since he’ll be staying with you for the few days it’ll take to get through your heat. It won’t be as long this time, your body being forced through those hormones quickly. It won’t even register it needs a knot, flying through those symptoms. 

The wait is the worst part. It takes forever, every minute seeming to take an hour. Johnny waits dutifully by your side. You wish this wasn’t the first heat he would be here for. You wish he had at least gotten some experience with a normal heat, just so this one wouldn’t scare him off. Even Kyle might have been shaken by it, though, even with his experience. 

Eventually the heat begins to prickle under your skin, your heart rate jumping. Johnny calls in Dr. Keller, looking nervous as sweat begins to bead on your forehead. 

“It’s time.” Dr. Keller says, taking your temperature. It’s jumped quickly, your body starting to prepare for the onslaught of hormones about to be released. 

She turns your arm, hooking up the IV that will deliver the sedative as well as fluids to keep you hydrated. The heart monitor beeps rapidly as you grow nervous, Johnny squeezing your hand gently. You know he’s trying, and there’s nothing more he can really do. There’s no stopping this. It’s going to happen no matter what. 

“I’m going to administer the sedative. You’ll start to feel sleepy.” Dr. Keller says. “I’ll put in the feeding tube after you’re out.”

You swallow nervously, sweat starting to bead on your forehead. “It’ll be okay right?” 

Dr. Keller gives you a soft smile “You’ll be just fine. It’ll be a few days for us, but it’ll be a few seconds for you. It’ll be over before you know it.” 

You swallow nervously before nodding. Dr. Keller pushes the sedative through the IV, your body starting to relax as it begins to take effect. The itching under your skin stops, the heat fading as the ceiling gets further and further away as your vision tunnels. Johnny squeezing your hand is the last thing you remember before everything goes dark. 

He’s seen a lot of things, done a lot of things that would make the average person violently ill. He’s no stranger to blood and gore, yet he can’t watch as Dr. Keller inserts the feeding tube into your nose. The thought of having it in his own body makes him nearly gag, his eyes closing as he breathes. 

“I’m done.” Dr. Keller says, a small smile on her face as he turns back around. 

“About gart me boak.” He says, looking at you where you appear to be sleeping peacefully. He supposes you are, blissfully unaware of anything and everything around you.

“You’re not good with needles either, are you?” She asks, obviously noticing how he had turned away when she put in your IV. 

“Not my favorite.” He admits. 

“She’s all set.” She says, stepping back. “You’ll want to move her every few hours, turn her on one side, lift her legs up. Keeps her from getting bed sores or blood clots. I’ll be next door, and I’ll check on her periodically. If anything happens at night, I’ll have my phone on full volume.” 

“Thank ye, doctor.” He says, squeezing your hand despite the fact you can’t feel it. 

Dr. Keller takes her leave, the room going quiet aside from the beeping of the heart monitor, and the occasional buzzing of the blood pressure cuff as it tightens around your arm. He stares at you for a long moment, watching the steady rise and fall of your chest as you sleep. It’s probably the most peaceful sleep you’ve gotten in the last few weeks, despite the changes happening internally. Dr. Keller had explained it to him, the hormonal changes, how sedation works differently than going through a heat consciously. Omegas do go through heat cycles awake and aware without an alpha sometimes. Institutes cycle between isolated heats and sedation. 

The thought of you going through both makes his stomach twist. 

Sweat beads on your forehead as you lay there, something that will continue for the next few days, the doctor said. Your heart rate is higher than normal, another sign that you’re in your heat as your brain cycles through the sudden rush of hormones. He’s not quite sure what to expect, not quite sure what it’ll look like if something goes wrong. He’s never done this before, and the little research he’d done doesn’t feel all that helpful. Dr. Keller trusts him to know, though, and he supposes it’ll be pretty obvious should something go wrong. 

You’re not going to be doing much aside from laying there for the next few days. 

The hours seem to drag on and he can’t help but wonder if this is how Kyle feels during your heats. At least Kyle had a job to do, had to focus and listen for the breaks in between rounds when he’d go in, ensure nothing was wrong, nothing happened, that you’re being fed and taken care of. All he has is the steady beeping of the heart monitor and the occasional buzz and crinkling of nylon as the blood pressure cuff expands. Dr. Keller brings him meals, keeping him fed and occasionally keeps him company as he watches dutifully over you. His back is aching from the uncomfortable chair and the makeshift bed, but he can hardly complain. He’s slept on worse. 

He’s sketched a lot in the silence between watching videos on his phone and napping. It’s been a peaceful time, aside from his initial worry. You sleep away, sweat still beading on your forehead. Every so often he grabs a wet paper towel, wiping away the sweat. 

He jumps as his alarm on his phone goes off in the silence, his pencil falling to the floor. He picks it up, setting his sketchbook to the side before he gets up. He’s careful as he slips his arms under you, easing you over onto your side. He bends your legs, making sure you’re steady and not cutting off circulation anywhere. He runs a hand over your hair, the strands starting to slip out of the braid he had put in before your trip to the med center. 

He moves around to the other side of the bed, pulling the tie out before undoing the braid. He’s careful as he redoes it as best he can, making sure not to pull too tightly on the strands. The last thing you need when you wake up is to feel like your hair is being yanked out of your head. 

He ties off the braid before moving back to his seat, staring at your peaceful face for a moment. It’s nothing new to him, but he can’t help but stare. He’s seen you sleep many times, held you, watched you blissfully unaware of the world. The softness in your face, the worry and the stress and the weight on your shoulders of just being who you are gone. 

He picks his sketchbook back up, going back to drawing. 

His stomach churns nervously. There’s a subtle shake to his hands, something that doesn’t happen often. He likes to think he’s prepared for anything, conditioned enough to not be shaken by anything. Yet he can’t help but feel unsure as Dr. Keller closes off your IV. 

“She’ll be coming out of it soon.” Dr. Keller says. “She’ll be confused, disoriented. She might get combative. Your job is to talk to her, try to calm her and help ease her back into awareness. She’s a crier after heats, so I don’t doubt there will be tears. She may get sick as well.” She gives him a reassuring smile. “It’ll be alright. Coming out of a heat is hard, and so is coming out of sedation. Both at the same time is always a struggle.” 

There was a time he thought maybe sedation would be the easiest way to deal with a heat, but from what he’s hearing, he might have been wrong. Sure it might be easier in the moment to not have those week long symptoms of intense desire, the fever, the desperation. Coming out of it though? From what he’s heard so far, it’s not as easy as it sounds. He’s been through it, coming out of sedation after an injury in the field. It’s a confusing feeling, disorienting enough before you find out days or weeks have passed. It’s hard to conceptualize without all those hormones going crazy in your head. 

You start to stir, your brows pinching as you slowly begin to wake. You let out a groan, reaching for the feeding tube immediately. Dr. Keller gently pushes your hands away, nodding to Johnny. Your brows furrow deeper, a groan leaving your lips as you begin to move more and more. 

“Easy, kitten.” He says, leaning down close to you, projecting his scent so you can hopefully get a whiff of it to help calm you. “I’ve got ye. Yer alright.” He brushes your hair back from your sweaty forehead as you continue to groan. He takes your hand as you reach for the tube again, squeezing it gently.

You crack your eyes open for a moment before quickly pinching them shut. Dr. Keller reaches up, turning off the overhead light before leaning down close to you again. She’s projecting her natural beta scent as well to try and help calm you. “I’m going to remove the tube, I know it’s uncomfortable.” 

Johnny has to look away again as Dr. Keller removes the feeding tube, pressing his face into your hair as he projects his scent even more. You squeeze his hand back, the other gripping the side of the bed. You take in a harsh, gasping breath before you begin to cry, tears spilling out of your eyes as you sob. He had heard that you’re a crier after your heat from Kyle, he’s just never witnessed it before. 

It takes him back to just a few weeks ago in John’s office when you had sat there crying as they interrogated you. It had made him uneasy, the stress and the fear clouding your scent. The fear he’d felt in those moments, listening to you cry and panic, nearly sending yourself into distress before John had calmed you. He might have done more, but he had been angry, angry at whoever put those cameras in your room, and slightly at you for keeping it from them for so long. 

He can’t blame it completely on you, though. That had been back in the time where you still weren’t sure if you could trust them, before you fully opened yourself to them. Maybe they were slightly at fault for not making you feel like you could trust them, for not being realistic with you about the dangers. Sure you had been warned, had it drilled into your head why your safety was paramount, but maybe they had kept too much hidden from you. Maybe they had put you in more danger by trying to keep you safe. 

Your eyes are still pinched closed as you continue to cry, sobs wracking your body as you grip his hand tightly. It tugs at his chest as he whispers quietly against your hair, trying to get you to recognize him, pull you out of the confusion and disorientation you must be feeling. You begin to hyperventilate, your hand slipping from his as you try to push yourself up. Dr. Keller already has the bed lifting, her other hand holding a vomit bag in front of you. It seems almost instinctual, but she’s been through this many times before. She had told him how many during one of their talks, when he’d asked her how long she's been working with omegas. He hadn’t realized just how little he really knew about your doctor before now. 

Johnny has to look away as you vomit into the bag, his own stomach churning. Not just because of you being ill, but also because of how distressing this all seems. How you haven’t gone into distress is a miracle to him, but perhaps you’re still too out of it to be that aware. 

Your breathing has calmed just slightly, your forehead beaded with sweat. Dr. Keller removes the vomit bag from in front of you, grabbing another and setting it on your lap. 

“I’m going to dispose of this.” She says. “She’s going to be sick for a while. I’ll grab more fluids and I’ll be back shortly.” 

Johnny nods, wiping at the sweat on your brow. You lean into his touch, letting out a quiet whine. His touch is gentle, almost scared he might hurt you in your fragile state. You’re still crying, the tears cascading down your cheeks. His chest hurts, guilt and sorrow churning inside of him from seeing you in this state. All thought that sedation was the best option goes out the window as he holds the vomit bag for you, keeping your braid out of the way. 

Kyle had told him about what it was like during your heat and after, partially to feed his curiosity, but also in case something like this happened where he had to be the one taking care of you. He’d heard about the pain, the tears, the disorientation. This is different, though. This is far worse than what Kyle had described to him. 

Dr. Keller returns, IV bag in hand. She removes the empty bag and replaces it with the full one, hooking it up to your IV. You have to be thirsty after a few days of having nothing but a feeding tube and the fluids to keep you going during your fever. 

Johnny catches her hand as she pulls out a syringe, small enough to be discreet. Something tickles in the back of his mind as he stares at it, his instincts on edge. 

“What is that?” He asks, starting to get defensive, his metaphorical hackles rising.  

“Pain medicine.” She says simply, handing it to him. She has to be able to read him, sensing the sudden protectiveness wafting off of him. 

He takes the syringe, reading the label. Morphine. He feels silly for distrusting the doctor. She’s never proven herself untrustworthy. While he knows they can’t be too trusting of anyone, she’s never done you any harm, never given them a reason to suspect her. She wouldn't hurt you, not after the dedication he’s seen from her these last few days alone. 

“She might need it later once she’s more aware.” She continues, taking the syringe back when he hands it to her, putting it back in her pocket. “Her body just went through an intense hormonal cycle and those hormonal levels are now dropping suddenly. It can cause a wide range of symptoms from crying to illness to physical pain. When omegas are allowed to go through that cycle naturally, usually with an alpha, the symptoms of coming down from that cycle are typically less severe compared to when sedation is used, of course besides the physical pain. The pain with sedation is obviously quite different from the pain when the cycle happens naturally with an alpha.” 

Johnny’s brows furrow as he rests his hand over yours, your breaths stuttering through your sobs. Your hands are clutching at the blanket, one of yours he’d grabbed from your room in hopes the familiar comfort might help you through the process. He hates that you’re in pain like this, he hates that you’re in pain at all. He’s beginning to feel the bubbling anger deep in his stomach at Simon for letting you endure this. He has no idea. He’s isolated himself for your safety, and he’ll never get to see what this is like, what you’re going through right now. 

Dr. Keller says your name softly, leaning against the side of the bed, electing to ignore the swirling emotions of her fellow beta. He’s not her concern, you are. “Can you open your eyes for me?” 

You continue to cry, but you manage to get your eyes opened, squinting at her through your tears. Dr. Keller takes your face in her hands, using her thumbs to gently pull down your lower lids, trying to get a good look at your eyes. You try to jerk away, letting out possibly the cutest defiant sound Johnny has ever heard, and he might have reacted had it been a different situation. Instead he leans over the side of the bed again, talking to you quietly so you calm a bit. You do relax at the sound of his voice, his scent projecting even more to try and comfort you, bring you back into reality. 

“There we go.” Dr. Keller says, looking at your eyes before she gives you a soft smile. “Welcome back.” She removes her hands from your face leaning against the bed rail again. “It's all over. You did perfectly.”

You let out another groan, lifting a hand weakly before letting it drop back against your stomach. 

“I know you're thirsty.” Dr. Keller says. “I'll get you some soon. We need to make sure your stomach has settled for now.” 

Your eyes squeeze closed as you start to cry again, your inhales shaky as the tears start sliding down your cheeks. Johnny shushes you gently, petting your hair. Sweat still drips down your face, your hands curling around the edge of the blanket. 

You try to push yourself up to sit, Dr. Keller immediately understanding what you need again as she lifts the vomit bag up to your mouth.

Johnny peels your hand from around the blanket, holding it tightly. His own stomach is churning but he swallows it back, bringing your hand up to his face. He kisses the back, the skin clammy and warm to the touch. Your scent is a swirl of things he’s never smelled before, drowning out the natural sweetness. Kyle had mentioned how your scent and John’s change during the heat and after. He hardly recognizes it right now, and he finds himself missing the sweet scent of strawberries. 

Your fingers squeeze around his as you lay back against the bed, eyes cracked open and sniffling as the tears continue to slide down your cheeks. You let out a groan, tugging weakly at his hand. 

“Hi kitten.” He says, leaning over the bed rail again. “Yer alright. Get ye feeling better soon.” 

Your inhale is shaky, catching in your chest. You weakly tug his hand towards your face pressing your sweaty cheek against his skin. You nuzzle against his hand, your tongue darting out to lick his skin. He can't help but chuckle, wiping at a tear that falls with his thumb. You’re still out of it, but he knows that’s a sign that you’re starting to come through, starting to come back to yourself through the haze. 

You let out a long groan as you pull away from his hand, licking at your lips. They're horribly chapped, almost rivaling Simon's, but at least you have an excuse.

���Thirsty?” Dr. Keller asks, returning to the bedside with a cup of water. “Drink slowly, you'll get sick again.” She warns, holding the straw up to your lips. 

You manage to do as she says and take small sips of the water despite how thirsty he knows you must be. Johnny keeps caressing your face with his thumb, your fingers still laced with his. 

“Let me get your vitals.” Dr. Keller says, setting the cup of water on the table. You let out a groan in protest, smacking your lips, obviously wanting more. “You can have more in a minute. Too much on your stomach could upset it, and I’m sure the last thing you want to do right now is get sick again.”

You let out a quiet grunt, leaning your cheek against his hand once again. Your skin is still a bit warm to the touch, but that could just be from the exertion of trying to come out of sedation and being sick. Dr. Keller takes your vitals once more, recording them on her sheet. She’s been tracking them your entire heat, using them to judge how far along you are since she doesn’t have the benefit of you being awake to track the symptoms that way. He had wondered why she tracked them on paper, but then he remembered John telling him about how Shepherd had requested all of your private records and Dr. Keller’s notes. 

She is smart. He’ll give her that. 

“Things look good, even if you might not feel like it right now.” She says.

You try to shift on the bed but you let out a quiet groan, freeing your hand from his. 

“Hurting?” Dr. Keller asks.

You nod, letting out a whine. It tickles in the back of his brain, his beta wanting to reach out and comfort you, but he knows he can’t. He can’t ease the physical pain. One downside to beta evolution. Their ancestors never learned how to fix physical pain. Maybe that would have made them too perfect. All he can do is try to comfort you through it. 

“Let's get some pain meds in you.” She says, pulling the syringe out of her pocket again. “Then we can get you somewhere more comfortable.”

She injects the pain medicine through your IV, giving it a few minutes to begin working before disconnecting you from all the machines. Johnny helps her get you in a sweatshirt, wanting to keep you warm. You are shaking, though what that might be related to he’s not sure. Perhaps everything. 

Dr. Keller hands him the cup of water. “Keep her drinking. I'll go grab a car, then we can get her back to the barracks.” 

You feel far too light in Johnny’s arms as he carries you from the car into the barracks. Simon is nowhere to be seen, though he hadn’t expected a welcome back party from his alpha. He’s probably still hiding out in his office, or in the gym, his usual hiding spot. Johnny is kind of glad he’s not here, though he would like to rub it in his face, the decision he’d made. 

Johnny takes you to his room, still avoiding yours. It’s almost like a crime scene, Johnny tempted to take it off. He knows placing you in there might make you panic when you wake up after everything. That’s the last thing he wants. So instead he takes you to the place you’ve spent the last almost six weeks in, somewhere you’ll recognize the scent and be comfortable when you wake up. 

You roll onto your side as soon as he lays you down, curling up on his blankets. He drapes yours over you, tucking it around your shoulders before he steps back out into the hallway. 

“Keep her hydrated. Lots of water, tea, clear sodas.” Dr. Keller instructs him. “She'll be drowsy for a while because of the pain medicine. Give her a couple hours and once the pain meds wear off and her stomach settles a bit, try her with some bland foods. She did well with mashed potatoes after her last heat. She’s going to be out of it and sick for a few days. Keep an eye out for anything abnormal. Vomiting blood, can’t keep food down, if she complains about pain somewhere or is hard to wake, give me a call.” 

“Got it.” Johnny nods, committing everything she’s told him in the last ten minutes to memory. 

“You did really well.” She says, giving him a soft smile. “You should be proud of yourself.” 

“Thank you, doctor.” He nods, internally beaming at her praise. 

“Keep me updated, and don’t be afraid to call.” She says. 

He watches her walk to the door, Simon’s door opening as soon as she’s gone. He at least looks guilty, like the shame is eating him alive. Johnny hasn’t seen him like this in a long time, not since he caused you to distress. It makes him a little too happy to see him in such a state. 

“How is she?” He asks, not moving from in front of his door. 

The sound of you vomiting into a vomit bag reaches their ears. Simon at least has the decency to flinch at the sound. It’s subtle, probably unnoticeable had Johnny not been able to read his alpha like a book. 

“Sick.” He says, trying to hide his anger and disappointment. They’re complex feelings. He knew Simon would turn you down if you asked for his own reasons, but now after seeing what happens when there’s no alpha available during a heat, he almost hates Simon for doing this to you. “Confused. Still a bit out of it.” 

“You know I couldn’t do it.” Simon says, using that uncanny ability to read everyone around him. 

Johnny hates it sometimes.

He turns to glance at you through his open door as you continue to be sick. You’re going to be miserable for the next few days, likely more than you are usually after your heats. This one will be less physical pain after taking knots for a week straight, and more pain from being sedated, pain from being mostly immobile, pain from just being alive and carrying this status. Such pain omegas live with, physically, mentally, emotionally. 

He hates it. 

“Ye don’t know what it was like.” He says, his hands closing into fists. “Seeing her like that.” 

You let out a long whine, a sob tearing from your chest as you inhale. Tears prick behind Johnny’s eyes as he holds Simon’s gaze. “Ye just had to say no.” He shakes his head, turning to go back into his room. 

He doesn't want to tell you. He can see the look on your face already. The disappointment. The pain. The agony. He can smell the souring of your scent already, the painful grief filling it and there will be nothing he can do to ease it. It's a rare moment they've left you alone in the last month and a half, forced to after a call with Kate and Shepherd.

He's not even sure how to approach it. 

He opens his bedroom door slowly, his stomach clenching as he looks in at you. You're on the bed, wrapped in a blanket where he left you, cuddled against your big bear. He doesn't want to wake you, especially not for this but he has to. He has no choice. You have to know. 

He lets out a sigh as he sinks down on the edge of his bed, gently putting a hand on your shoulder. “Kitten?” He shakes you gently. “Kitten, wake up.”

You inhale sharply, startling awake despite his attempt to be gentle. There’s a sharp spike of fear in your scent for a moment as you’re yanked from sleep suddenly, but it fades as soon as you realize where you are and who is with you. You turn over onto your back, winding up resting against his knee as you rub your eyes. 

“Johnny?” You croak, still partly asleep. 

“Si and I just got off a call with Kate.” He says carefully, not wanting to scare you too much. 

You're wide awake immediately, pushing yourself up to sit. You swallow nervously, your scent already souring. “What is it?” Your voice wavers as you ask, eyes already shining with tears. 

“John and Kyle are fine.” He says, regretting not starting with that. He can see the temporary relief on your face. “But, they need some backup for this one.” 

It takes a moment for your brain to process his words. A hole tears through the center of his chest as he watches the realization hit, your face falling as your scent begins to sour even more. Your arms wrap around yourself as you stare at him, the relief gone from your face as you stare at him. He swallows the lump in his own throat, your scent causing his beta to stir, the drive to comfort you itching in his brain. He can’t though, he can’t comfort you through this. 

Your voice shakes, a tear sliding down your cheek as you figure out what it is he woke you to say, why Kate had called. Your inhale is shaky, catching in your chest before you speak. 

“You're both leaving too, aren’t you.” 

NEXT ->

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[telumendils]

i really want to emphasize the fact that many of these recent bills aimed at denying trans minors gender-affirming care have special exceptions built in to allow for nonessential surgeries on intersex children. they want to make sure doctors can continue pressuring parents into putting their intersex kids through procedures that have no evidence of benefits and are well known to cause harm (cw on these articles for discussions of intersex medical abuse/trauma).

these bills are not designed to protect children, they're designed to eradicate sex and gender diversity. they want to force both trans and intersex people into their binary little boxes and it will do immense harm to both groups.

[bluublu-blub]

yan! ex husband (cont.)

Things got a little messy with my life within 5 days after I uploaded. I was almost disowned but things are better now. I was planning on uploading soon but I only got time now.

next

You barely remember when it started —when was the last time he sat down and spent time with you instead brushing you off in your rare times of rest. You do understand how time consuming his daily activities are. He was, after all, a professor by day and a medical student at night. So, you would smile at him and assure him that you always understand and you are fine with less date nights and hangouts. But, you were only asking a bare minimum from him —you just want some time where you both just sit in each other’s presence and let the silence be because it brought you comfort.

You just want to know that he is still there.

That, in some way or form, you still matter.

(In the back of your mind, you wonder if it is a right choice to get married as soon as you both finished your undergraduate degrees.)

(You brush the traitorous thoughts away from your mind.)

Just a little more. You can still wait.

–

Was it by a stroke of unfortunate circumstances, you wonder as you watched him grinned widely as he finished med school and immediately was recruited to some hospital while his words came from one ear to another. He seems so happy and less stressed as you try to keep up with him. 

“What do you think, love?”

What do you think? 

“What?”

“I asked if we can move closer to my workplace?” He repeated and you felt that once again your world froze. “It will be a different environment from here. The distance is a little over five hours in this place. Wouldn't it be more convenient?”

“Oh, yeah.” Convenient for him, sure. But, what about your career? “But, it will be far from mine.”

He brushed you off. “Well, you can always quit right?” Then he moved on to the next topic as if you agreed.

Oh.

Do you really matter to him at all?

–

You often heard from your friends that sometimes being together wouldn’t be enough if the relationship becomes stagnant and prison for your well-being. You had denied everything that is slowly ruining your relationship for years now, you let go of your convictions, passions, and dreams just for him. Let him shine and soar high while you are left scrambling in the ground. 

It was not like this before. 

Before, he listened. He was there before, there used to be a lot more love and smiles. 

Home was him before.

Home is not him now.

—

You stared at the documents in your hand, you had talked to your attorney about the procedures and now you need his signature.

“Love?” He’s back early for a change.

It’s time to end this godforsaken marriage and choose yourself for once.

“I need you to sign this.”

There is no going back to the past.

[fairuzfan]

Also re:necropolitics of israel (click)

A few days ago there were reports of Israeli soldiers "returning" bodies of martyrs they took like just straight up from Gaza. Here is a report about bodies being stolen from al-Shifa (click).

The director of Al-Shifa had reported the bodies being stolen back in November (click) before his arrest. The hospital workers mentioned not knowing why the soldiers would do that. The speculation of the photo-op arose because the photo-op of October 7th within Israel happened a month and a half after October 7th, after the Al-Shifa raid. People (Palestinians) noted that the level of violence done to the bodies seemed similar to what they had been seeing with the bombs in Gaza, and found it hard to believe that Hamas could inflict that much damage. There was a thread that was examining this idea but I haven't found it as it's been a bit. If I find it, I'll comment on this post.

But even then, Israel routinely makes corpses serve out their sentences or even outright steals them for the sake of enacting psychological torture onto the relatives of the martyr (click). The burial process is an essential step in mourning and grief, which means by withholding the bodies, they ensure that the family is unable to recover emotionally from the death of their loved one nor are they allowed to move on. This is essentially a form of ensuring that people are unable to resist as the emotional toll this takes on them is quite high.

A variety of reports and testimonies are linked in this article regarding the harvesting and removal of organs throughout the years by Israel (click). The most damning of the evidence is a testimony by Dr. Meira Weiss in her book "Over Their Dead Bodies." The article has a translated passage from Hebrew about the period at the turn of the century and their practices then (roughly 1996-2002):

“They would take corneas, skin, and heart valves, while noting that non-professionals would not notice the absence of these organs as they would place something plastic in place of the corneas and ‘take’ the skin from the back so that the family wouldn’t see it. In addition, the bodies of detained martyrs are used in medical colleges at Israeli universities for research purposes.” Weiss confirmed that “in the first Intifada, the army effectively allowed the institute to extract organs from Palestinians under a military procedure that required the autopsy of a Palestinian prisoner. The autopsy procedure was accompanied by organ removal, which was used by the Israeli Skin Bank established in 1985 to treat burns suffered by Israeli soldiers. This was after the Chief Rabbinate Council issued a ruling legitimizing it, which led to saving the lives of many Israelis who were injured during attacks on Palestinian citizens, continuous assaults, and wars — at the expense of Palestinian martyrs, according to specialized Israeli medical sources for burn treatment.”

It's worthy to note: as an occupying force especially, Israel should not be doing ANYTHING with these bodies and just returning them to the families. I've seen some people say "they didn't JUST harvest Palestinians' organs, they also harvested Israeli organs." It doesn't matter. They are an occupying force that enacts systematic violence on Palestinians especially and within this context, anything Israel does towards Palestinians is a targeted, racialized violence. It is widely known that Israel denies crimes it has committed until many, many years, especially from during the Nakba, such as well poisoning.

People provide evidence that organs can't be used after a certain point in time.... in this context (October 2023-December 2023), it's not about whether or not the organs were used for anything. It is specifically for the purpose of body desecration which Israeli soldiers especially have not been shy about. Here is a report during the bulldozer massacre in which people report that Israeli soldiers run over bodies for no other reason than desecration (click).

Also, remember the grave desecration that happened a few days ago? It was reported that they had stolen bodies believed to belong to young Palestinian activists then (click). This is widely known as 'necroviolence' on Palestinian bodies in order to humiliate them (click).

You cannot remove the context of an oppressive force (Israel) that is documented to have disrespected graves and bodies. You must analyze it within this context, not any others. Withholding bodies of Palestinians, no matter what they did while they were alive, is a form of disrespect and oppression on a subjugated population. To deny that this happens and to attribute it to antisemitism is not only disrespectful of Palestinians' mourning rights, but also an effort to remold the narrative into one of "Jewish people against Palestinians" by emphasizing the Jewishness of the occupying force rather than focusing on... you know... the fact that they're an occupying force known to enact violence on Palestinian martyrs.

[noneofchar]

Plastic surgery in and of itself is very important.

If you’re in a severe accident and lose half your face, a plastic surgeon will fix that. If you break your nose and it heals so crooked that you can’t breathe, a plastic surgeon fixes that. Congenital abnormalities (cleft lip for example) are also fixed by plastic surgery. Severe burns that cause deformity are fixed by plastic surgeons too. There is genuinely a lot of good done by plastic surgeons, this is by no means a comprehensive list

There are evil plastic surgeons though.

Plastic surgeons who view and treat people as nothing but paychecks are evil. Plastic surgeons (and other industry people) who try and tell other folks what they need to “fix” about themselves are evil. Plastic surgeons who knowingly endanger their patients by performing unsafe procedures are evil.

while i generally have a low opinion of plastic surgery, nose jobs are okay (no i will not be explaining because i don't understand my position myself)

[transfemme-shelterdog]

TA testimony I think

I'm a trans man who passes very well, has had all my documents updated, and who isn't gnc at all. By all means, I'm the kind of guy people assume faces no misogyny/ has all the privileges of a cis guy. But that just absolutely isn't true.

Even if you're a guy like me, if you have to interact with the medical system at all (which. You're trans. How do you avoid the medical system?) you will be outed by your documents/precious medical history / body and you will face transphobia and misogyny. I've been misgendered a lot, sometimes it's "they" sometimes its "she" or "it". I've been called a freak, I've had nurses chat shit about me and tell each other about the "thing" they saw in the halls. I've been denied medication for my face not matching the name on the medication, including my heart medication and pysch meds. Much more dangerously, I've been told I was being hysterical when I was actually very ill. I'm a lifelong heart patient, and I ended up with a massive blood clot in my heart (life threatening) because a procedure I was supposed to have got delayed. I cried when I was told and the doctor who told me cringed and stopped referring to me with he/him and switched to she/her. I was given very specific instructions on what to look out for in case the blood clot moved to my brain and I had a stroke. Then, one day, it happened. I went to the ER immediately, and got admitted. The doctor at first treated me with respect, then he looked at my medication list and precious health conditions and found out I was trans and decided I was hysterical. After several HOURS of fighting with him/ convincing him I'm capable of understanding my own body, they did and MRI and wow, holy shit, I had a stroke. I survived, luckily, and I get to live the rest of my life with neurological problems because a doctor found out I was a trans man and decided I was being dramatic and over emotional. He even asked me if I was on my period. Which I hadn't had in over 2 years at that point. This was in a blue state too. When I lived in a red state they wouldn't do anything at all.

This sort of shit doesn't happen to cis men. This did not happen to me because the doctor mistook me for a trans woman (though I don't at all doubt doctors are similarly biased against trans women). They knew, 100% I was a trans man, and because of that, they assumed I was incompetent and over emotional and probably just on my period. Trans men, even the big burly passing ones, face misogyny.

.

[writtenbymoonflower]

Hi lovely!! Firstly I want to say I love your works 🥰🥰 always happy to see someone keeping the poly!marauders tag alive! Could I request poly!marauders with fem!reader who just got her wisdom teeth out? Or some sort of procedure where they’re under anesthesia I’m not picky 😭😭 it’s always so cute to see reader all loopy and their bfs like “she’s so cute I want to eat her 😍”

Feel free to ignore this if you don’t vibe with it!! Love you loads 🎀

Thank you so much baby! I relate to this so much because in the two ish weeks I wasn't posting I actually got mine out! Love you loads as well! fem!reader x poly!marauders.

cw: surgery, pain meds, anesthesia

619 words

“C'mon, sweet thing. Let’s get you inside.” James coaxed, gently. He was basically holding you up as you stumbled over the threshold of your home, still spacey from the anesthesia and pain medicine. 

“W- we’re home!” You slurred, muffled by the gauze in the back of your mouth. You tried to struggle free from James’ grasp, but he held fast to your arm. He was far stronger than you in typical circumstances, but in your inebriated state it was like a bunny trying to tug on an elephant. 

“Easy, love.” Remus chided, placing the hand that wasn’t holding your prescriptions on your shoulder. 

“I can do it myself.” You pulled against your boyfriends’ hold again, missing Sirius' lovingly annoyed expression in your determination.

“I’m sure you can, baby.” Sirius placated. “But then you would be denying us the pleasure of helping you. Don’t be mean and let us help you, yeah?” He rubbed up and down your arm through your thick sweater. 

“I wasn’t trying to be mean.” You said, voice wobbling with misery. Remus avoided the strong urge to swat his boyfriend. 

“You’re never mean lovie,” James cut his eyes to Sirius before fixing you with an awfully kind look. “Pads is just being a git, yeah?” He encouraged you to lie down on the bed.

“He’s not a git!” You shot back. “I love him!” Sirius thought he could cry from fondness on the spot. 

“Aw, I love you too, baby.” He knelt down to stroke your hair and resisted the urge to kiss your swollen cheeks. James helped you under the covers while Remus set the bag of care supplies on the dresser. You made grabby hands at Sirius, trying to pull him on top of you. (sober you would die before being that blatant in wanting)

“Gentle, dovey. You’re fragile right now, don’t hurt yourself” Remus gently scolded. 

“B- but I wanna cuddle!” You whined. James wondered if your words right now were just your internal thoughts all the time, he kind of hoped they were. Sirius gently moved you over enough for him to crawl in, holding you to lie on your back while he wrapped his arms around you. Remus was still by the dresser, reading the instructions again and setting out your medications. James leaned up to kiss him on the cheek. 

“Thank you for doing this.” He whispered, stroking the taller boy's hair. 

“Don’t mention it. I just know when she wakes again she is going to feel awful.” Remus winced. 

“She’s a trooper, though.” James added. “Remember they had to wheel me to the car when I got mine taken out. I also sobbed the whole way home and had a death grip on Pads so much he had bruises.” He recalled from his operation. 

“Yeah, you were a big baby, huh?” Remus teased. 

“Exactly,” Sirius piped up, holding onto your now sleeping form. You were out cold, some of the meds still clearly in your system. “At least she’s a cute baby.” 

“Oi! You said I was cute!" James said furiously. 

“You were, love. You always are.” Remus said, cheeks flaming. James sighed, looking at you. 

“She’s so precious I could eat her.” He said, lovelorn. 

“Don’t think she’s gonna want that for a while, Prongs.” Sirius teased, still stroking your arms and hair.

“Get your mind out of the gutter!” James scolded, walking over to the bed and flopping down on your other side, Remus close on his tail. He kissed your head chastely, steering clear from any sore areas. You stirred in your sleep, not discontentedly, but rather reveling in their hold.

Your boyfriends didn’t know if they could survive this amount of fondness, but they weren’t complaining.

[dooberific]

This is kinda weird but can I request a fic of reader convincing harumasa to start a 401k?

Happy you’re self aware bbg because this was a wild request to find ✋💀. I was googling so if there are any inaccuracies I blame reddit ELI5 threads.

❝ 𝘙𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘗𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘉𝘭𝘶𝘦𝘴 ❞

harumasa x afab!reader

genre: slice of life (anymore so and we would be asking him to join the neighborhood watch), some suggestive language

wc: 1.1k

“Somebody’s here suspiciously early.”

“Oh you know, my chest started hurting around four o’clock so I had to take off early.” He accentuated his tale of woe with a little fake cough, mirth dancing in his golden eyes as he neared your seat on the end of the pier.

Could you really blame him? His day was just so painful with all that paperwork, so when his favorite girl texts him with a surprise invitation for dinner at one of his favorite places? What was he supposed to do?

You reached into the convenience store bag behind you, producing a canned drink, waving it invitingly in his direction. “Bitter melon juice for the gentleman?”

“When a lovely lady offers it,” he plucked the can from your fingers, sweeping his head down to press a chaste kiss to your lips as you giggled, “How could I refuse~?”

He sat down beside you, legs dangling over the edge of the pier. “What’s the occasion? I know I’ve been a particularly good boyfriend lately but this seems a little too good to be true.” 

“Can’t I invite you out for a romantic picnic date without ulterior motives?” You rolled your lip out in a faux pout, reaching back into the bag behind you as you slung a saran wrapped sandwich at his chest.

“Oh, homemade sandwiches, super romantic.” He teased as he picked at the wrapping before taking a bite, immediately recognizing the flavors of your truly homemade chicken salad.

“What’s next, gonna slip your granny nightgown on when we get home? You know that thing really turns me on.” 

“I will have you know, my grandma ended up with seven kids wearing one of those.” You hissed as you took a bite of your own sandwich before waving it threateningly in his direction, kicking at his ankles. “Besides! It’s comfy and someone wasn’t complaining last time I wore it.”

“Guilty as charged~” 

You rolled your eyes but didn’t reply, the two of you falling into a comfortable silence as the sound of the waves lapping at the piers and the rush of the wind carrying a spray of sea foam lulled you into a tranquil state. 

“What are you thinking about?” 

His question took you by surprise. You hadn’t realized how mindlessly you had stared off into the horizon till he anchored you back in. You smiled, scooting to his side as you threw your arms around his middle, your cheek squishing against his shoulder.

“Just thinking about us…and the future, I guess. I think I’m just a little worried sometimes.” Your head swiveled up to prop your chin on his shoulder, watching as his brow furrowed below his headband. His hand squeezed your knee.

“What’s got you worried?”

“I don’t think you’re taking your life seriously.” 

The abruptness of your words surprised even you. You had rehearsed it in the mirror multiple times, trying to figure out how best to address it with him but that was all out the window now.

He fiddled with the tab on his drink can, head low. “This is about that retirement stuff the association sent, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.” There was no use denying it anyways. You had questioned him when the packet came in the express mail, leafing through the papers outlining H.A.N.D’s 401k procedure before he told you not to worry about it. It was in the trash can the next morning.

“I don’t think you’re considering it like you should. You’re not living on borrowed time like you think you are, even the doctors have been pleased with how well your health has been maintaining.”

He laughed ruefully. 

“Every day I wake up is borrowed time. I’m a medical anomaly whether you accept it or not.”

“Keep talking like that and you’ll end up living to a ripe old age.” You chimed with a pop of your lips, bumping his shoulder.

“I just thought that since the government cut down the retirement age for Executive Officers to 35 that it might not be such a bad thing to consider, especially,” you tapped his nose with the tip of your finger, “since somebody I know would much rather play than work.”

You shuffled backwards on the deck, hitting your knees as you wrapped your arms around his neck from behind. You rested your head on his shoulder.

“Just think. Thirty-five, a retired smoking hot former executive officer lounging on his boat.”

He laughed, his shoulders shaking as he peered at you in his periphery. “On a boat huh?”

“Why not?” You replied with a shrug. “What better way to experience the freedom of the wind and the sea? I could think of much less pleasant ways to spend your time than waking up and enjoying the sunrise over the bay.” 

You squeezed him a little tighter as you brushed your lips over his ear. “Maybe if you’re extra good your equally smoking hot girlfriend will invest in a few bikinis and you won’t have to complain about those granny nightgowns anymore~”

“Now we’re getting somewhere.” 

You snorted, shaking your head, hands drifting down his arms as you twiddled with his fingers till he threaded your fingers together with his. 

“Do me a favor and think about it?” 

You don’t get an answer before his phone chimes in his pocket. His face falls, and you know it’s work on the other end.

“Sorry baby,” his apology comes with a kiss. “Let’s get you home.”

You felt guilty when you saw the packet of paperwork on the edge of the counter when you returned to your shared apartment, having fished it out of the trash before you hatched your dinner intervention. You swiped it back off the counter, dropping it back into the bin with a sigh.

You didn’t remember when he crawled into bed with you, but you did stir when his morning alarm went off, feeling the bed shift as he got up. You yawned, dragging yourself out after him, draping the comforter over your shoulders like a cape to fight off the morning chill as you padded to the kitchen to start the coffee pot.

You poured a cup for yourself as you topped off his work cup, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you squinted at the packet of papers folded neatly on the kitchen counter.

You waved it curiously at him as he appeared in the kitchen beside you, adjusting his tie as he plucked his cup off the counter. 

“Haru, what’s this?”

“That,” His nimble fingers teased at your knuckles as he swiped the papers from your grasp, leaning in to plant a coffee-flavored kiss against your lips, “is our retirement boat.” 

He slipped on his shoes, popping the front door open as he spun around and shot to a wink.

“Better start picking those bikinis, babe.”

Rey 2024

[solarpunkmagazine]

Gunman Who Shot Brian Thompson “…used ammunition emblazoned with the words ‘deny,’ ‘defend’ and ‘depose’”

Published 12/5/2024.

“The message left on the ammunition echoes the phrase ‘delay, deny, defend,’ which is commonly used by attorneys and insurance industry critics to describe tactics used to avoid paying claims. It refers to insurers delaying payment, denying a claim and then defending their actions. Health insurers like UnitedHealthcare have become frequent targets of criticism from doctors and patients for complicating access to care” (Balsam et. al.).

BCBS Halts Anaesthesia Payment Policy After Backlash

Published 12/5/2024.

“Initially, the policy update went unnoticed, but that changed Wednesday after UnitedHealthcare CEO Brian Thompson was shot killed in New York City. The killing sparked a wave of online vitriol about the U.S. health care system, and Anthem BCBS’s decision roared into the conversation.

A spokesperson for Anthem BCBS said in a statement: ‘There has been significant widespread misinformation about an update to our anesthesia policy. As a result, we have decided to not proceed with this policy change’” (Fattah and Miller).