#still the doctor always makes me wait a ridiculous amount (MULTIPLE hours sometimes) and then my visit is like 5 mins it feels ridiculous

[mr-leach]

Man I don't like going to Princess Margaret for what will most likely be a nothing visit but I just HAD to get a visit from the canker man* so now I gotta go every 6 months for the foreseeable future :/

* (This is my convoluted way of reminding myself that this is a serious preventative measure and despite it being inconvenient I am still very lucky that my situation did not end up being worse than it was and this is the best way to ensure that it stays that way)

[ilooklikeaburntchickenugget]

Only Mine (Pt. 6)

A/N: We’re using Taylor songs again because we love Queen Taylor. So these are not my works (obviously) but hers. However if you’ve never heard some of these I would highly suggest you check them out because all Taylor songs are absolute bops. Pairing: Gerard Way x F!Pop Star!Reader Word count: 3,541 Warnings: Swearing, implied sex (no smut though), arguing (minor)

You found the release of Fractious to be the most ironic days of your life.

You were in the media everywhere, selling only a few thousands copies less in it’s first week than your previous record. Which you were fine with, that was somewhat of the plan.

But you were no where to be seen. Hiding out in a new house you and Gerard had bought New Jersey for just under three million dollars. But no one knew about that purchase, other than your closest family and friends. Because no one needed to know.

The suspense of it all started extremely high, as you only announced the album 12 hours prior to its drop. And the world went insane, fans jumping to Twitter to go absolutely crazy over this new persona that they had already began to love, and some had already caught onto the ‘good girl gone bad’ idea.

You released the entire tracklist only three hours before the drop, and you were already stalking fan pages who began making theories about what it meant. There were already a lot of ‘THIS ONE’S ABOUTE GERARD’ and theories already popping up about him, which made you lightly smile knowing damn well a lot of it was.

The tracklist read: Blank Space I Knew You Were Trouble Style End Game I Did Something Bad I Know Places Out Of The Woods Dancing With Our Hands Tied Don’t Blame Me Getaway Car Clean

You smiled and lightly laughed once you refreshed your phone on the couch, your face and name at the top of iTunes and various other music providers promoting your new album.

“Congrats babe.” Gerard said from where he sat next to you, giving you a kiss and squeezing your thigh, “I’m proud of you.” “Thanks Gee.” You leaned your head onto his shoulder, “I love you. So much.” “I love you more.” He smiled down.

What made it all the better was how MCR was entering into their punk era, only making your album and new persona more believable. You had to admit, Gerard’s red and shaggy hair was really hot, and you were living for it, as you had told him a million times.

And you knew how much he loved your new era. As much as he genuinely loved the real, bubbly you (which is of course why he married you) he continuously admired your new all black look, managing to wear skin tight jeans and short shorts with more crop tops than usual and leather jackets galore. And you can’t forget how many pairs of Doc Martins you had, plus Louboutin boots all for the red bottoms. You basically looked like a filthy rich home wrecker, AKA the look you were going for.

But at home and in private you were the same old Y/N, always letting your natural hair fall into its regular ways, with little to no makeup and not ashamed to wear whatever you wanted.

What seemed to put the cherry on top to this new era was the newest addition to your family, AKA a black french bulldog named Rocko the two of you got. He was a tornado of chaos who would run around the house with his dozens of toys, taunting you and Gerard with them as if to show some form of superiority that he clearly lacked. You treated him like he was a newborn baby, constantly. You bought him clothes, beds, and toys, letting him sleep with you and Gerard despite your husbands protests about how he “took up too much room”. To you, the little canine could do nothing wrong.

That was until he chewed up your favorite pair of shoes, which just oh so happened to cost multiple hundreds of dollars. Gerard was furious at his actions, complaining that there was no reason for him to do so with the countless amount of toys he already had. You were mad at first too, but after only a few seconds of the pup giving you his eyes of sympathy you forgave him and moved on as if nothing happened. Gerard was still in his state of anger though.

“Oh, look, the designs for the tour outfits came in.” You smiled from where you laid on the couch, checking emails on your laptop, Rocko at your feet sitting between you and Gerard who was reading a book. You opened up the file to be greeted with all dozen outfits, which were beyond perfect. Gerard looked over, interested in the topic. “I like that one.” You pointed to one especially scandalous duo of tiny shorts and an even smaller top that could have been easily mistaken for a bra if it wasn’t for the thicker material on the all black set with black tights. “It makes me look like a whore.” Gerard nearly spat out his coffee.

“But you’re not a whore.” “Yeah, well, my alter ego is.” You smiled. “And you made her that way.” You looked up at him from quickly, “Take that as a compliment.” “How is me turning my wife into a whore a compliment?” He asked, puzzled.

“Just take it as one.” You huffed.

“I do think you’ll look bad ass in it though,” He remarked, returning to his book.

“Awww, thanks babe.” You blushed, “Maybe I’ll ask them to make you a matching outfit.” You lightly laughed. “Haha, very funny.” He rolled his eyes.

“It sucks we’ll be touring at the same time.” You sighed, “I miss being able to see you and the guys more.” “Yeah I miss you too,” He sighed as well, “And Ray does too.” You lightly laughed.

“Ray’s coming to the first show, right?” You asked, looking up at Gerard. He nodded.

“He cleared all of his schedule to go and he’s pumped.” You smiled.

“Good.” You closed your laptop, climbing over to give Gerard a kiss, which he happily accepted and did the same back. “Somedays I wish you kissed me the way as you do Frank.” You lightly smiled, letting go as he chuckled.

“I mean, I could.” He smiled at you, running his hands through your hair, “But that’s more aggressive and in the moment. I prefer to savor the kisses I have with you, let you know how much I love you.” You smiled, lightly rolling your eyes.

“You’re so sappy sometimes, Gee.” You responded, “But I love it.”

That night, as you were going to bed, you stopped in your mirror momentarily to take a look at yourself. You had gained 25-ish pounds since your break from the spotlight, still recovering from your ED. Your doctor said that you were healthy now, but some of the fatrolls that fell on your sides and hip dips as well were starting to bother you. And your stomach still had that bit of blub that you were never very fond of.

Gerard walked past you in the bathroom, immediately getting the memo. “Am I too fat?” You turned around and asked him, his face turning to a form of ridicule.

“You’re a fucking goddess.” He said looking you up and down, “So no.”

“Are you sure Gee-” Before you could finish, he grabbed your hand and practically dragged you to bed where he pushed you down with ease beneath him, giving you a searing kiss.

“You’re fucking gorgeous and the most beautiful woman alive. If you say one more thing about you not being perfect I’m going to frame every photo of you in every inch of this damn house so you know just how incredible you are.” “Fine.” You sighed reluctantly. “Now say it with me,” He began, “I, Y/F/N Y/M/N Y/L/N-Way am perfect.” You sighed, choosing to go with it.

“I, Y/F/N Y/M/N Y/L/N-Way am perfect.” “Good girl.” He said with another quick kiss. You lightly laughed, rolling over to your side of the bed to give Gerard his. You took your hand, running your fingers through his messy hair as the two of you stared at each other.

“After these two tours, I think I want to take a break.” You admitted, saying so above a whisper. He lightly nodded. “Maybe we can start a family.” He nodded again. “And settle down.” He gave you a kiss on the nose.

“That sounds perfect.”

-Time skip because I’m lAzY-

You were on stage doing what you do best, simultaneously swaying your hips to the music and going along with some of the choreography, as if the skin tight black and sparkly body suit and above the knee black boots weren’t enough.

As usual, you would look over to your husband where he was in the VIP section and sing to him, a smile plastered on his face. You would occasionally look over to see both the approval of your family, and friends, including Ray who seemed to be having the time of his life dancing and singing the lyrics.

The show was going absolutely perfect, it was bigger than any other that you had ever done, a larger stage, larger screens, larger everything. Even a larger crowd with over 100,000 people for your first show on tour. You could hear the audience echo your lyrics, jumping up and down judging by the movements of their light up wrist bands.

You of course played a few songs off of your previous album, doing a few acoustic with just you and the crowd which were some of your favorite experiences and moments. You also did a quick speech thanking all of your loyal fans who waited for you to come back with new music, despite the long period of time where you were no where to be seen.

After the finale, you ran back with a huge smile still on your face with your team, drinking some water constantly to hydrate yourself. It only took you a few moments in the back hallways of the stadium before you saw your husband at one end, smiling at you. You smiled back, running up to him and clinging your arms around him. He hugged you back, giving you a quick kiss. “You did great.” He whispered with a huge smiled, “I’m so proud.” “Thanks.” You smiled back, giving him another kiss. The two of you walked away, arms around each other as you leaned onto him. You tried to keep PDA to a limit, especially since the documentary was actively being made and was recording everything.

Once you were back in your private dressing room where no one else was, he gave you an even bigger hug, swinging you around and you lightly squealed. “You’re just so good.” He laughed.

“Thanks.” You smiled at him, letting go to go and take off your makeup at the chair. “I just gotta meet a few fans then we can go back to the hotel.” You told him through the mirror and he nodded.

“Y/N?” You heard your assistant knock at the door. “Hey, Betty.” You smiled up at her and she smiled back.

“I assumed you would want Rocky with you.” She said, putting the small black dog and he ran up to your chair.

“Ah yes,” You smiled down at him, picking him up and giving him a bunch of kisses on his little face, “Thank you.” You told her and she nodded, “No problem.” She closed the door back. You held the small dog in your lap, finishing off your face and hair before getting up and putting him down to change into regular clothes from your stage outfit.

“Gee?” You asked and he hummed, looking up from his phone, “Could you unzip me?” You asked and he nodded, getting up to do so. Usually Gerard would pull something after that, making it less PG, but you shot him a quick glare warning him not to do anything, so he didn’t.

You quickly replaced your stage clothes with a pair of jeans and sweatshirt, turning around to see Gerard still staring at you, wide eyes. “Oh please,” you sighed at him, “We’ve been together for over eight years Gee, handle yourself.” “Sorry, it’s just really hard to.” He tried to defend himself, you rolled your eyes.

“I’ll be back soon, babe.” You smiled, giving him a peck on the lips before excusing yourself.

The meet and greet went by as always, taking about half an hour before you said bye to everyone, taking photos, and then went back to Gerard. He was still on his phone on one of the couches in the room, Rocko by his feet. “Ready to go?” He asked, looking up, and you nodded grabbing your phone and backpack.

On the way out you couldn’t stop smiling, hand in hand with Gerard going in one of the large black SUVs, you going in first, then Rocko, then Gerard. “How’re you feeling?” Your husband asked and you just smiled.

“Great,” You admitted, taking a sip from your water, “Everyone loved it.” He gave your thigh a squeeze and looked at you.

“It was definitely pretty bad ass.” He smiled and you lightly laughed.

You had walked into your suite, setting your bag and the dog down, placing him in his bed (in the living room part of the room) while Gerard grabbed him a bowl of water. You gave the dog a quick good night kiss, resorting to your own room where Gerard followed, closing the door behind you.

Almost immediately your lips were clashed together, his hands on your waist as he swiftly put you on the large plush duvet of the bed, moving down to your collarbone and neck.

“Do you want me to stop?” He asked for only a brief moment, as a double check. You shook your head violently.

“No,” You sighed out, “Please no.” He smiled down at you connecting your lips against. “Whatever you want, sugar.”

-Another time skip-

You wouldn’t have ever known if it wasn’t for the insane amount of fatigue and throwing up you were going through, only a month into tour. Initially you could’ve sworn it was just a cold turned to maybe the flu, as many of the symptoms you were having would go away within a few hours, so you were ready for show time.

But here you sat in your hotel room, curled up on the bed with Rocko next to you, your mind completely empty as you stared into the thin air, Betty had run to the nearest pharmacy. What were you going to do on tour? Fans would figure it out easily. But what would you tell Gerard?

Once Betty came back she gave you a somber, almost apologetic smile handing your the small bag. You thanked her, closing the door and going into the bathroom.

You stood over the bathroom sink, your hands gripping the granite edges for dear life as you stared down at the three tests. All positive. It took you a few minutes of staring, rocking back and forth, for everything to sink in.

This was not how you planned it, it was never supposed to go like this. You and Gerard were going to take a break, settle down, have your first child and be together all through your pregnancy. Now you were both on huge tours promoting your new work, away from home for at least the next five months. 

You could feel warm tears stream down your cheeks, a small sniffle coming from your nose as you grabbed your phone. Reluctantly, you pressed on your husband’s name, pressing the small phone icon displayed underneath it. You put your face up to the screen slowly. Only a few rings and he answered.

“Hey Y/N/N,” He said, “What’s up.” It took you a few seconds, but you immediately bursted into sobs. “Baby? What’s wrong?” He spoke up, voice with lots of concern.

“Gee,” You began, sniffing again through the sobs, “I’m um- I’m pregnant.” You said. No one spoke for the next few seconds, complete silence on both ends of the line.

“Sweetie,” He said in a light voice, a small laugh following afterwards, “That’s great!” “No, Gerard, it isn’t.” You snapped, “We had all of this planned out perfectly, no one was going to know unless we wanted them to. But no, in the beginning of a fucking world tour this has to happen.” You raised your voice, “And I get it, this is gonna be a fucking walk in the park for you because you’re not here, and you don’t have to play in front of over 50,000 people every night in body tight suits. And you’re going to be separated from your pregnant wife. Life’s probably fucking perfect for you.” You weren’t sure what had gotten into you, but whatever it was it wasn’t pretty.

“What?” He asked, “You say it like we never wanted this. Sometimes things don’t go to plan Y/N.” He snapped back.

“Well they have to in our world Gerard!” You yelled, taking a deep breath to calm yourself down, “We have our lives set out for the next six months. And this is a big deal, and something we can’t do right now.”

“So are you going to get an abortion? Are you going to put it into the adoption system?” He yelled back. You took a few moments to think.

“No.” You admitted, barely above a whisper, “Gee, I’m sorry.” You began sobbing again, your sad feeling taking over any angry one.

“No, sugar, I am.” He clarified with a sigh, “You’re going through a lot and I should be supporting you, not arguing.” “Well I kinda started it.” “And I shouldn’t have continued it.” He responded. “Honey, we’ll figure this out.” He insisted, “We’ll talk to your tour manager and everyone who needs to know, we’ll figure something out. Some way to hide it.” “Okay.” You said somberly.

“Give me a few minutes,” He said, “I’m going to figure out a way to get to you.” “Gee, you’re booked for the next fews months on tour.” “And so are you, but you’re also carrying our child right now.” He spoke back, “We’re going to figure it out, okay? We’re going to have a kid, and start a family, maybe a little off track from what we intended, but this is what we’ve wanted, right?” You nodded despite him not seeing you.

“Yeah, of course.” You calmed down. “This is what we’ve wanted.”

It took a full week for a plan to be made. A week of unnecessary stress and anxiety for everyone on your team who was high enough on the roster to know about the pregnancy. Not even your families or friends knew, everything right now was business.

Gerard managed to fly in during a three day break the band had, consoling your emotions during the time as you two began to discuss personal plans. There was a lot of crying, both tears of sadness and joy, as you two began to discuss where you would live most of the time, which room the baby would take, how to even handle a child.

You already knew the baby’s name, which could go for either a boy or girl: Shiloh Monet Way. You were still very unsure about planning to have a baby, but since your tour would end when the third trimester began, you would have at least a few months to plan and figure out everything.

Gerard had already talked to the guys and their managers about pushing back some of the dates so there was a month break for him to be home around the baby’s due date. At the very least he wanted to be with you while giving birth, but he also wanted to help both you and the baby recover.

New outfits and plans to completely hide your pregnancy were already in the working with your teams. It was like a completely undercover operation to keep both you and your child’s privacy to a fine tune. And of course. Gerard and the guys promised to not say anything at all, even a hint towards you being pregnant wouldn’t be dropped.

“I say we wait to tell our families and friends,” You admitted to your husband, the two of you on the hotel bed getting ready to go to a sound check. “Just in case anything happens. I mean, we have to tell our teams and the guys and stuff, which we did, but no one else.” He nodded.

“Just not for too long,” He said, “Or at least once we know that baby’s developing fine.” You nodded and sighed.

“I was hoping having our first child together wouldn’t be this stressful.” You admitted, almost shamefully in a way.

“It’s okay, sugar.” He put his hand on your thigh and gave it a light squeeze. “We’re going to make the best of it, okay? You have a little less than five months left on your tour and then I get to take a break. This’ll work out just fine.” You nodded, placing your head on his shoulder as you knew he was right.

“You make everything better, Gee.” You said, playing with his hand as he placed a kiss on the top of your head.

“I’ll do it for you, sweetheart.”

[beardycarrot]

L.A. Noire is... interesting. It’s not a terrible game, but at the same time, I don’t know if I can call it a good game either.

You start off as a patrolman in 1946, and play through a few cases of police work as a tutorial. You’re then promoted to detective and work traffic cases, which lays the groundwork for the rest of the game, the meat of which you get into once you’re promoted to homicide. This is the most interesting part of the game, and what you would expect a noir detective story set in 1940′s Los Angeles to be about: investigating what appear to be copycat murders based on the Black Dahlia case, but with odd similarities that definitely make them seem connected.

Unfortunately, while this is interesting in concept, it’s absolutely unsatisfying. Since it’s spread out across multiple cases, and a case is only closed when you arrest the suspect, you have to keep arresting guys you know are innocent... destroying families in some cases. You eventually discover that the cases ARE all connected, because the killer leaves a series of clues leading you to him... and he turns out to be...!

Just some guy, actually. Yeah, just a bartender working for a temp agency that you talked to for a few seconds in the first homicide case. You don’t get any real explanation of his motives before chasing him through the sewers and killing him, and since having false arrests in so many cases would look bad, the police cover it up. That’s the end of that, and you move on to working drug cases.

This, unfortunately, is where the game’s real story comes into play. Half a million doses of army surplus morphine being shipped back to the US after the war were stolen, and... I honestly care so little about it that I’m not going to bother. You’re then demoted to working arson cases because your character has been having an affair with a jazz singer (you’re never told why), and it’s back to repeatedly arresting the wrong people. If you’ve been reading the newspapers that appear in some cases, you’ll know that the actual arsonist is a patient of the doctor involved with the morphine.

It turns out that the fires are being lit because the homeowners are refusing to sell to the housing project going up in the area, but then it turns out that the new houses being built are going to be burned down too for an insurance scam, but THEN it turns out that... maybe not...? Because... the housing project is in the same area that a freeway is being planned to run through, or something? The game doesn’t really attempt to explain itself on this point, and then you chase the arsonist through the sewers, kill him, and then die because... I don’t actually know, at some point someone did something to make the water level rise, which apparently results in a huge rush of water through the entire sewer system.

It’s not a BAD story... but you can’t help but compare it to the Black Dahlia cases. A psychiatrist deciding to exploit two soldiers he happened to meet to make himself rich isn’t nearly as interesting as a mastermind serial killer based on the biggest unsolved murder case of the twentieth century. THAT should’ve been the game’s main plot.

As for the gameplay itself.... eh. You investigate crime scenes and other places of interest by walking around, pressing A to examine objects whenever you get a magnifying glass prompt, and if it’s something important looking at parts of it more closely. Unfortunately, anything not directly related to the case is completely useless. In a game like Phoenix Wright, you can examine almost anything to get some witty banter between the characters; in L.A. Noire, you turn a beer bottle over in your hands and Cole says its unrelated to the case.

The real star of the show, however, is the interview system. You’re given a list of questions to ask, which I think is based on clues you’ve found or received from other interviews, and based on how the person responds you can choose to believe them, doubt them, or show evidence that proves they’re lying. Or, in the version I played, GOOD COP, BAD COP, ACCUSE.

Every character you interview uses facial motion capture of an actor, which is pretty cool. They even used a couple who are instantly recognizable, like Michael Gladis and Greg Grunberg. The idea is that you’re supposed to watch their faces to determine whether they’re telling the truth... but it kinda feels like a waste, since the signs aren’t little twitches at the corner of the mouth or their neck muscles straining or anything like that. Every character that I can remember has the same tell: being unable to look directly at you.

A downside of the motion capture is that it captures the whole head... but only the head. There are a few places where the animators weren’t quite able to match the movements of the body to how the head is moving, which is really immersion-breaking and kinda gross at times.

Depending on how well you do in an interview, you can receive clues that will help you out in future interviews or lead to small breaks in the case, but none of the interviews are actual fail conditions: you can get every question wrong and still progress through the game. Unfortunately, the game only tracks the number of questions you got correct, and not which ones they were, so all future dialogue plays out as if you did it perfectly. A memorable example of this was the police captain congratulating me on outing the Venezuelan consulate general as a sexual predator... which I neither did nor even assumed.

The third type of gameplay is the action set pieces, which if you fail enough times, you have the option to skip... that should give you a pretty good idea of their quality. These consist of chasing suspects on foot, chasing suspects in a car, or shootouts. The shootouts are the easiest, as your character can take a ridiculous amount of damage, you automatically heal after a few seconds of not being shot, you have unlimited ammo, and the areas they take place in are always conveniently filled with Gears of War-style pillars and chest-high walls. Foot chases aren’t exactly difficult... you can tackle the person if you get close enough, but you never will, because the game throws vehicles and pedestrians in your path to slow you down. You just have to follow the suspect for long enough, and they’ll eventually either tire out, take a hostage, or ambush you and force a fist fight. For most chases your character will draw his weapon, but even if he says “stop or I’ll shoot!” that’s not actually an option. Killing the suspect, and in some cases even just injuring them, can result in a game over... despite the game being perfectly okay with you killing people when the narrative says to.

The hardest are the car chases, largely due to the game’s driving controls. The cars accelerate and brake realistically, which is fine, but power steering wasn’t available on commercial vehicles until the 1950′s. What this means is that if you’re going above ten miles an hour, you have the turning radius of a tank. The computer-controlled cars, unfortunately, don’t seem to be as limited by this issue, and as with the foot chases they throw a lot of things in your path. While your partner will constantly urge you to case them at top speed with your siren blaring, the driving controls just can’t handle high-speed chases. The only way to consistently beat these sections is to drive slowly and carefully and just wait until the suspect gets hit by a bus, or whatever pre-determined end point the chase scene has. To give you an idea of how hard the vehicles are to control, I once lost a suspect because I’d somehow Austin Powers’d myself.

Finally, there’s the traversal. The game basically uses the Grand Theft Auto style of open world (which makes sense, as it’s a Rockstar game), but there’s never any reason to commandeer a civilian vehicle: you always have your partner’s car to get around in, and even if you do get a different car, half the time it will revert you back to your partner’s car when you enter the little cutscene that plays when you arrive at a location. Unfortunately, there isn’t much else to do in the open world; as this is a Serious Detective Game, there aren’t any side activities like bowling minigames or anything.

You can find a few rare vehicles hidden in police lockups that are marked on your map, or discover historic landmarks that aren’t, but everything else is just finding items scattered around the city that you can’t see from your car. Considering that any damage you do to vehicles or city property is deducted from your rank at the end of each case, it’s best to just fast travel everywhere and pretend that the open world doesn’t even exist... buuuut, the game only gives you a tutorial on how to fast travel on the twenty-third case. The game has twenty-six cases. I feel like I shouldn’t have to say that the tutorial should’ve come much, much earlier.

I know that I’ve probably sounded largely negative, but again, it’s not a terrible games. Almost everything was poorly-executed and it should’ve been refined prior to release, but it’s not like it’s an unfinished or fundamentally flawed game... it’s just a lot harder to praise something when it’s completely average. If I were to give it a number score, with one being barely playable and not at all fun, ten being the best game I’ve ever played... I’d give it a solid five. Not a great game, but not a terrible one either.

...Oh, except for the fact that Switch port is absolutely abysmal, that would probably dock it a few points if I’m talking about the Switch version specifically. The pop-in of background details is frequent and distracting when you’re in areas that buildings aren’t blocking your view, characters’ heads will sometimes be a glitchy hair-colored texture for just a second when they first appear, you can see some extreme frame loss and slowdown while walking around on foot out in the city, and worst of all, the game crashes a lot. In my 393 hours playing the Switch version of Skyrim, the game crashed four times. In my thirty hours playing L.A. Noire, it had seven separate crashes.

[resfebervegan-blog]

A Calling

Being a nurse is hard. Emotionally, physically, and spiritually it drains you until you’re just about empty, and then it fills you up. I'm twenty-two years old and I’ve been a nurse for ten months. At this point in my career, some would say that I am a brand new, fresh out of water baby nurse who can’t tell which way is up. The truth is, though, I'm not. I’ve seen things that most nurses never have to see and have been involved in situations that most nurses don’t encounter until much later in their careers. I don’t feel new, yet I learn something new every day. That’s what keeps me going.

I work on a half medical half Palliative Care unit in the same hospital I did my clinical rotations in during nursing school. Palliative care is a special type of nursing that deals with patients who are no longer being treated for a cure,but rather for symptom management and comfort. In a hospital setting, this generally means that I take care of people who are actively dying. This being said, I am around a lot of death. The other half of my job is medical and respiratory. Being exposed to both of these types of nursing on a daily basis has taught me to be a more compassionate person and to look at difficult situations in a new light.

Yesterday was particularly rough on me. I started the day with five-ish patients. Two fully medical patients, one full palliative patient, one undecided palliative patient (meaning they were not totally ready to stop all curative treatment), and one palliative patient who had just passed a few minutes before I clocked in. This mixture of patients is not uncommon on my floor, however, going back and forth between medical and palliative patients takes a toll on you.

I began my day taking report like I always do, introducing myself to my patients and families, and sitting down at the computer to look up my patients and review their orders. The night nurse that gave me report was comforting the family of the patient who had just passed and making sure everything was completed for them. Soon after she came out of the room, the family followed and that was the last I saw of them. The next step for me would be to bag the body and get him ready for transport. This task has become natural to me, I do it nearly every day. Sometimes I find myself talking to the patient or praying for them while I'm preforming the post mortem care.

After that patient was taken care of, it was time to move on to my medical patient with a very bad PEG tube infection. Unsure why the tube was still in with such an obvious infection, I called the doctor for some clarification and a request to get it out today to prevent sepsis (a blood infection often resulting in death). The physician was planning on waiting one more day because it was a Sunday. Anyone working weekends in a hospital knows that nothing gets done on Sundays. Regardless, I insisted. The patient had become more lethargic over the past three days and there was something in my gut telling me that this patient needed the tube out as soon as possible. Eventually the doctor agreed to have the PEG removal done today and asked me to get it taken care of. Shortly after that conversation, another nurse and I took the patient down to radiology to get the tube removed. The patient was instantly in less pain once it was out.

By this point it’s about 11 am and I had not addressed my other patients yet. Another nurse had offered to give my second medical patient his pain medications and do the dressing change on his leg while I addressed my palliatives at the end of the hall. This kind of team work is the only way things get done in my profession and I am very lucky to work with the people that I do. I accepted the help and then checked my orders to see if there was anything new I needed to take care of, then moved on to my fully palliative patient. The patients husband was overwhelmed with emotion and concern for his dying wife that he was just walking in circles around the room. It was my job to calm him, listen to him and his concerns, explain to him what was happening with his wife, and provide him comfort in the fact that I was taking care of her and keeping her out of the cancer pain that she had been in for so long. I find that sometimes just sitting and listening to the stories of the passing patient makes the family feel better in such a hard time. Being there for family is the biggest and most important part of Palliative nursing. We had been taking for what had seemed like hours, finally the patients husband took a deep breath and sat down. I knew I had given him some comfort in the fact that he and his wife were not alone and that she was being taken care of. Though I could have stayed for another half hour, it was time for me to move on to my other patients.

One o’clock had arrived too soon. At this point in the day I usually would have had all of my meds passed, assessments done, and be thinking about lunch. Not today. My semi palliative patient needed me. I went into the room with his feeding and antibiotics and ended up staying for a prayer for the patient. This man was diagnosed with laryngeal cancer that had spread to the carotid arteries and the lungs. He had coded two days prior and had bruises and broken ribs from the chest compressions. Shortly after being taken to the ICU he signed a do not resuscitate order (DNR) and was transferred back to my unit for partial palliative measures. I could tell that the patient had come to terms with his fate, but his wife was holding on. She wanted to know that she had done everything she could to save him, and I don’t blame her. I remember thinking to myself “this is the nicest family I have ever met, why is this happening to them?”. As we prayed for him, the family was praying for the cancer to go away, for miracles to occur and for the patient to be cured of his disease. I however, silently prayed for something different. I prayed that the patient not be scared, but take comfort in the Lord. I prayed that the family see the patient’s wishes and that they realize that he just wanted to be comfortable and loved until the very end. I prayed that the Lord comfort them and show them His love in this time of hardship and that He give me the knowledge and ability to help this man with a smooth transition into Heaven. After their prayer was done, they each laid their hands on me and told me that I was different than the others. That the spirit was telling them I was special and to trust me. They then began praying for me and the doctors taking care of my patient. Overwhelmed with emotion and spirit, I left the room and finally sat down for a brief lunch. Their words felt heavy on my shoulders as I hoped I could live up to whatever it was they were needing from me. It’s not often that tears invade my eyes, however, this day they came like a storm during rainy season. Over and over as my attempt to hold them back repeatedly failed.

I continued on with my day, passing meds, answering questions, comforting families, and preforming multiple dressing changes. Eventually I get another fully palliative patient transferred into one of my rooms, bringing my patient count back up to five. After getting them settled I sat down to chart (a task I usually have done by ten in the morning). Suddenly I hear screaming coming from my semi palliative patient’s room. A family member comes running down the hall stating that the patient’s trach had come out. I bolted up out of my chair and ran to the patient’s room while calling respiratory on my phone. Typically, when a patient’s trach is out, there is still a hole where they can get some air in and breathe. However, when I arrived into my patient’s room, he looked terrified and was mouthing to me that he couldn’t breathe. His tumor was so large that when the trach dislodged from his throat, it completely occluded the stoma where the trach was placed. I didn’t know what to do. Nothing like this had ever happened before and I was a new nurse. All I remember thinking the whole time was that I had no idea what to do. My hands though, they were already grabbing a smaller trach. I grasped the part of the existing trach that was still in the patient and shoved it back into place. Suddenly I could hear a gasp of air as tumor tissue and blood were being coughed up out of the stoma. I quickly grabbed the suction catheter and suctioned in his throat to clear it. All the while thinking “What do I do? What do I do?”. I was successful in replacing the trach and the patient was breathing, terrified and in a ridiculous amount of pain, but breathing. Shaking, I checked the patient’s vital signs, they had come back to normal. Respiratory had arrived and assessed the patient while I reassured the family that the patient was okay. I then called the doctor to let him know what had happened. Just before leaving the room, the patient’s eyes widened as he mouthed “thank you for saving me”. I grabbed his hand and prayed with him one last time.

I'm not sure how I knew what to do. In my head I was completely clueless, yet my body made all the right moves. Did God take my hands? Was I trained well enough to just know? Was it luck? I do know that that was the moment I realized I'm not new anymore. I was thrown into a situation and I really did know what to do. Exactly what to do. Even if pushing the trach in didn’t work, my hand was on a smaller one, a plan B. If that didn’t work my eyes were already looking for a mask to bag the patient, plan C. Even if my head had no idea what to do, my body did. Still shaking, I took comfort in this. The patient was okay for now. He was still alive and breathing. The only thing left to do was to get him out of pain, and that I was a pro at.

As the end of my twelve-hour shift approached, I was exhausted. My legs hurt, my eyes were tired, I realized I hadn’t peed all day, and the bottle of wine sitting in my fridge seemed like a fantastic idea. Night shift had arrived and I began my report, recalling everything that had happened that day. When I got to my semi palliative patients room to say goodbye, the wife looked at me and cried. Earlier that day she had asked me if I could arrange a second opinion to come and talk to them the next day in order to make sure she had exhausted all options. After the day’s events though, she told me with tears in her eyes “We don’t need that second opinion anymore. I understand what is happening, it’s in the Lords hands now. Thank you for being our angel.” This sent shivers down my spine. I said my goodbyes and hugged the patient and family, knowing quite well that this may be the last time I see them.

I am a nurse. That day, I was a good nurse. A brand new, fresh out of school, wide eyed, overly positive nurse who knew exactlywhat she was doing. I had made a difference in someone’s story, and I get to do that every day. This is how I know I'm in the right profession. Being a nurse is hard, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

[henqiguai]

haikyuu!! fic rec

i’ve been consuming unreasonable amounts of hq!! fic these past few months... here’s a rec list of ~70 fics for 16 ships. 

(edit: if the links aren’t working, right-click to open the fic in a new tab. sorry;;)

❤ = favorite

❤ ❤ ❤ = god-tier 

*

Bokuto/Akaashi (otp: my head, his heart)

the better boyfriend battle by norio (M)  ❤

Summary:  It's two days after their first date anniversary, so Bokuto ruins Akaashi's life.

i put my hand out, unfolded, into the sunlight by carafin (G)  ❤

Summary:  In which Bokuto Kotarou is woefully inept at conveying his feelings, and Akaashi Keiji has a sort-of superpower. Sort of.

Karma by dgalerab (T)

Summary: Akaashi pulls a muscle and Bokuto offers to help him with yoga. Akaashi knows a bad idea when he sees it, and he really only agrees because he's suddenly acquired a deeply rooted desire to see Bokuto do yoga.For multiple reasons.

Maybe We’re Airborne, Baby by sterlinglee (T)

Summary: Realizing he's got it bad for his setter is the easy part. Getting his feelings across might be the hardest thing Bokuto's ever done, not counting his literature final or putting out the flames on that birthday cake he tried to bake for Akaashi last year, or—or a lot of things, actually.But the point still stands. Reaching out to Akaashi is a leap in the dark, and he wants it more than he's ever wanted anything (especially the smoking remains of a cake he baked before he really understood his feelings, but knew that it's what you attempt with your own two hands that matters).

snowflakes by arsenicjay (T)

Summary: Bokuto is a simple wizard with simple needs; a nice date, a little romance, and he's all good to go.Or, Akaashi and Bokuto spend a day in Hogsmeade just before Christmas.

stating the obvious by ThinkingCAPSLOCK (G)

Summary:  There's a lot of things Bokuto isn't sure about now that he's in university. His program, his new team, his future. There's only one thing he's absolutely sure of. He is not dating Akaashi Keiji. Not even a little bit.

Year-Round Love by masi (G)

Summary:  In his first year of university, Bokuto realizes that he really adores Akaashi.

Rest of the rec list under the cut!

*

Aone/Futakuchi (otp: teddy and polar bear)

Got You by garbagecannot (T)

Summary:  So Aone kind of wants to see Futakuchi scream. Just for kicks. And he feels kind of awful about it.

*

Bokuto/Kuroo (ohohotp: best friends best boyfriends)

Seven Years by xwynn (G)

Summary:  Bokuto has a secret that's seven years too late.

*

Ennoshita/Tanaka (otp: it’s too early for the world to end)

baby, our love is fireproof by earlgrey_milktea (T)

Summary:

[10:52 pm] [to: noya-san] im gonna tell him [10:54 pm] [from: noya-san] U GOT TIHS GO GET UR BOY [10:56 pm] [to: noya-san] IM GONNA GET MYSELF THE BOY [10:56 pm] [from: noya-san] GET TEH BOY [10:57 pm] [to: noya-san] GET THE BOY [11:04 pm] [from: noya-san] GET THE BOY

or, the story of how tanaka tried to light a flame in ennoshita's heart and ended up setting everything else on fire instead.

hold your breath, it gets better by harklights (T)

Summary: But if there was one thing Ennoshita could trust about the world, it was that people wanted. They wanted things to bend to their will, other wills to bend to their will, odds to work in their favor, luck on their side, a shortcut, a fun time, insurance and assurance both. A security lock to be made extra sturdy against possible thefts. A frail book with tattered binding that wanted augmentation before it frayed and spilled its pages everywhere, succumbed to age. A girl’s pocket mirror that reflected falling cherry blossoms every time she opened it to look at herself. Vanity, maybe, although it had been too cute when she first saw herself and gasped.“A flying carpet,” the man before the counter wishes.“A… flying carpet,” Ennoshita slowly repeats.

Practice Makes Perfect by ToBeOrNotToBeAGryiffindor (G)

Summary: Ennoshita Chikara has had a few confessions, but this one takes the cake.

"Enno-san, can I ask you something?" "Sure." "You like guys, right?" "Yeahhhh. . ." "I think I might like a guy. What do I do?"

Why is this my life?

one step, two step by Authoress (T)

Summary:  Tanaka's made enough of a mess trying to confess to Ennoshita, he doesn't need his attention-hungry kitten getting in the mix too.

*

Hinata/Kageyama (otp: as long as i’m here, you’re invincible)

baby, i can give you wings by Metis_Ink (T)  ❤

Summary: In which there are superpowers, cats, rainstorms, realizations, split-second jealousy, embarrassing volleyparents, killer whales, electric Kuroos, unstable emotions, bad romance movie mentions, some angst, some fluff, but mostly a lot of awkward high schoolers.

The minute Kageyama walks into the gym and sees Hinata hovering eight feet over the nets he knows he’s screwed.

*

Daichi/Kuroo (otp: city boy country boy)

If I Could Change Your Mind by tookumade (G)

Summary:

“I’m kind of excited to meet him,” Bokuto says, roughly an hour before Karasuno are scheduled to arrive. “He sounds interesting.”

Kuroo raises an eyebrow at him. “I just told you that there’s not a lot about him that stands out—how is that interesting?”

“You’ve told me a lot about how he apparently doesn’t stand out,” Bokuto replies easily. “You don’t usually talk about someone so much."

(Or, Sawamura Daichi shows up like a breath of fresh air, and Kuroo Tetsurou doesn't stand a chance.)

*

Daichi/Suga (otp: honey i’m home)

Add New Contact by booksong (G)

Summary: "Daichi was leaning contemplatively on the sill of his open window, waiting for the icy breeze he was letting into his room to wake him up to how utterly stupid he was being. He’d always hated stories, real or fictional, about people doing ridiculous and self-destructive things for love, but now here he was, palming his smartphone idly and wondering with complete seriousness if it would survive an eight meter drop with substantial but repairable damage."

(Or; All Daichi's electronics are endangered the moment he realizes he can't get that sweet, patient, ridiculously attractive IT tech off his mind.)

cool teens don’t wear skinny jeans by ebenroot (T)

Summary: 'He was supposed to ask Suga for his number or ask if he was busy next Friday night and if he was interested in seeing a movie or something. Instead, he said in a slightly cracking and not at all calm voice, “I think I lost my kids.”

or

that fic where babysitter no. 1 Daichi loses three kids in the city, gets into a bunch of shenanigans, and tries to ask Suga on a date.

forever is a long time but i don’t mind spending it with you by Interconnected_3 (G)

Summary: “What else?” Daichi blinks. “What else is there? Do you want me to tell you how you like your coffee?” He grins teasingly. “I don’t know, how do I like my coffee? By the way, you’re missing something.” “Cream and two and a half sugars- wait, I’m missing something?” “Yup,” Suga says. “You forgot to mention that we’re dating.” “Well, god, Suga, judging from how we’ve been kissing and holding hands for three years and in this bed for the past nine hours since last night, I couldn’t possibly tell.”

in which daichi finally gets the day off and teaches a romantically-frustrated suga how to be honest with himself. 

extreme fluff

i do (cherish you) by gabstar (T)

Summary: The first time Daichi suggests it, it’s a joke.

“Sugawara Koushi,” he says solemnly. He’s bent on one knee, the floor is still sticky with sweat post-practice. He offers up the lost ring, found while mopping off gym floors. “Will you marry me?”

((Five times Daichi asks Suga to marry him, plus once where he finally, finally says yes.))

in the shadow of the mountain by laubear (T)  ❤

Summary:  After graduation, Daichi and Suga climb a mountain to see whether it will make them the grown-ups they’re supposed to be.

when all the songs are through by thewindraiser (T)

Summary: Daichi is out for lunch with some of his colleagues when he spots it.

The ring.

you better go catch it by laubear (G)

Summary:  Desperate times call for desperate measures. Sometimes those desperate measures involve compromising perfectly good scientific data, but Daichi’s learned to stop being surprised when it comes to Suga.

you can only take what you can carry by skittidyne (T)

Summary: Suga pulled Noya down from the chair. Daichi finally decided enough was enough. He knew he was just doing it to draw him in, and damn it, it worked (just like it always worked against him), because there was no way he was letting Suga get into one of Kuroo and Bokuto’s competitions.

Suga had their libero thrown over one shoulder by the time Daichi reached them. “Daichi-san! Look!” Noya chirped, waving the arm that wasn’t wrapped around the vice-captain.

Suga put up his free arm, flexing, and gave Daichi a wink.

(( or, alternatively: "do you even lift, bro?" ))

*

Hanamaki/Matsukawa (otp: i wear my boyfriend’s clothes, i look incredible)

and indeed there will be time by pickledplumes (T)

Summary: Between volleyball and the looming end of their high school years, Hanamaki thinks he’s already dealing with more than enough, thank you very much.

Unfortunately, no one else gets the memo.

-Alternatively: “I am not in love with my best friend!” says Hanamaki Takahiro. Nobody buys his bullshit.

hang out fall in love by carafin (T)

Summary: In which Hanamaki's humble medical practice is threatened by an intractable asshole a witch doctor who's just moved into the shop down the street. Medical/Witchcraft AU.

As far as Hanamaki’s concerned, and as far as bad life decisions go, setting up your witch clinic right next to an actual, proper, medical clinic is practically akin to setting up an all-you-can-eat buffet right next to a gym. Or a sex toy shop next to a church. Or a vegetable patch next to a goat farm. Or – yeah, the point is, this Matsukawa guy has totally cornered the market in Terrible-Life-Decision-Making-Skills.

lost with you (take my hand) by airblends (T)

Summary:  When a missed stop or ten lead to an involuntary day trip to Kyoto for Matsukawa and Hanamaki, they find that maybe the journey really is its own reward sometimes.

poolside by tothemoon (T)  ❤

Summary: At eighteen, it'd been a matter of wading.

At twenty-five, Hanamaki tries not to fall in headfirst.

plus one by orphan_account (G)

Summary: "Did you know we're dating?"

"What? Says who?"

"Says everyone apparently."

"Oh," Hanamaki frowns for a few seconds before shrugging and turning his attention back to the chocolate fountain. "Nice."

that’s what you get (for waking up in vegas) by skittidyne (T)

Summary: “There was an Elvis?” Hajime asks.

“He was the officiator. It’s the cliché, right?”

“…Officiator of what?” Tooru asks with a look down at Takahiro’s hand.

“You can borrow my phone to pull pictures from for our wedding album.” Issei reaches over and grasps the hand with the ring on it. Everyone is staring at their clasped hands like a three-headed lobster just crawled onto the table. “You were both the best men and I was very, deeply touched by how affected you both were at the ceremony,” he says in a perfect deadpan.

(( or: iwaizumi does not want to be the responsible one, and thus they suffer the consequences, or, perhaps, 'suffer' is a bit too strong of a word ))

Wet Your Whistle by darkmagicalgirl (E)

Summary:  Hanamaki gets a job as a bartender. Matsukawa likes his uniform. (Alternatively: Matsukawa tries to ignore his huge crush on his friend-with-benefits. He fails.)

*

Iwaizumi/Konoha (otp: ace and jack of all trades; alternatively: otp: i know fukurodani and seijou probably have never breathed the same air just let me have this)

Ace and Jack by masi (M)

Summary:  Iwaizumi and Konoha are neighbors and teammates. Maybe friends too. They get along most of the time.

*

Kenma/Kuroo (otp: backbone, brain, heart) 

Cat’s Out of the Bag by shions_heart (T)

Summary: When Kuroo Tetsurou drunkenly proposes to his best friend Kozume Kenma during the midnight release of Kenma's first ever video game, Kenma doesn't think anything could be more embarrassing.

But when the proposal ends up going viral, Kenma's forced to confront feelings about his friend that he's kept locked away for a long time.

Collecting Days by pickledplumes (G)

Summary: 

The silence of the crowd as they recite their vows and say I do is deafening, their cheers as he and Tetsurou kiss even more so, and Kenma thinks some distant version of him would have shied away and ran; but right now he’s in the arms of the only man he’s ever loved, locked in the most passionate kiss he’s ever known, and he feels like he can take on the world.

curiosity kills by newamsterdam (T)  ❤

Summary: Kenma rescues a cat.

Later on, the cat saves him in return.

i built you a home in my heart by newamsterdam (M)

Summary:

Yaku doesn’t let Kuroo derail him. “You don’t even have that excuse. And I’ve known you and Kenma too long to think that these feelings didn’t exist, before today.”

There’s a truth in what he says. Kuroo’s chest feels too small to contain his heart, beating giddily against his ribs. Even if he falls into his usual back and forth with Yaku, everything is different today.

“It’s not like that,” he says softly. He cups both hands around his mug, looking into the dregs of his coffee. “It’s like… I couldn’t even let myself think of it before, you know? I couldn’t let my mind even go there, because it would’ve been unbearable, to know and not be able to do anything about it.”

Yaku shakes his head, kicking at Kuroo’s legs under the table. “Oh my god,” he says. “You’re going to be hopeless now, aren’t you?”

Five years after high school— what changes, what doesn't, and what really matters, in the end.

love’s not the way to treat a friend by girltalk (T)

Summary: There’s really nothing quite as revelatory as the silent minutes spent in bed during the aftermath of a wet dream involving you and your high-school best friend.

(i must profess) by sadaf (T)

Summary:  “No!” Kenma says, voice high and through clenched teeth as Kuroo offers it to him. “Put- put that away! Put that away!”

mr. steal yo man by saintjoy (T)

Summary:  Lev's got it bad for Kenma. Unfortunately, he's already got one hell of a boyfriend.

Show a Little Faith by minijhi (G)

Summary: 

“Why are you sending me a singing Valentine telegram?" Kenma asks, mouth flattened. "It’s six months until Valentine’s Day.”

“I bought a dwarf over the summer to use as cupid.” Kuroo says. “I figured he could use some practice.”

-

Presenting Kenma as the Boy-Who-Lived, whose living becomes a lot more interesting when Ravenclaw Prince Kuroo Tetsurou starts sending him singing telegrams about defeating the Dark Lord.

Static by icespyders (G)  ❤❤❤

Summary: 

stat•ic /ˈstadik/ adj. : 1. lacking in movement, action, or change; 2. concerned with bodies at rest or forces in equilibrium n. : crackling or hissing noises on a telephone, radio, or other telecommunications system.

He hadn't taken it well when Kuroo went away.

The Wedding Hall Shuffle by icespyders (T)  ❤

Summary: Box steps for a waltz are easy, even if you've never done them before, even if you learned at a strangers' wedding from another stranger, even if you're not quite sure what you're doing. But love? Love is something else, something without regimented one-two-three-four patterns, without rules.

Maybe it's silly, but Kenma thinks he might be figuring it out.

*

Kyoutani/Yahaba (otp: mad dog and puppy)

all you have is your fire by knightswatch (T)

Summary: 

Shigeru is quickly hurtling toward the point where he’s going to have to change the relationship that he’s built with Kyoutani in ways that he can’t take back, and it’s one of the reasons that he isn’t particularly looking forward to his birthday.

No matter how he feels, Shigeru knows he can’t afford to be in love. Or at least, he can’t afford to act on it.

Close to the Chest by darkmagicalgirl (T)  ❤❤❤

Summary:  It takes Yahaba thirteen years to realize he's different from the other kids, one to figure out how to hide it, and two more to learn to be happy just the way he is. Yahaba's journey ft. an extremely annoyed Kyoutani, best friend in the world Watari, and loads and loads of good senpai Oikawa.

Mixed Signals by snoqualmie (T)

Summary:  Feelings are definitely a thing he’s having. Kyoutani is really sweet. He’s family oriented and he prefers novels with female leads and he’s in all honors classes. He kind of has a big head, totally has a big smile, definitely has a big heart. His eyes are nice, he’s got that dimple. Yahaba groans and rubs his fists into his eyes.

Room to Grow by kiyala (G)  ❤❤❤

Summary:  Kyoutani and Yahaba have enough on their minds in third year, as ace and captain of the volleyball team, butting heads both on and off the court while trying to improve their game so the team has a shot of winning this year. When they find a puppy abandoned in a park, their lives only get even more complicated.

the sunset hours by commovente (T)

Summary: 

set in an alternate sendai city where everything is almost exactly the same, except every day during sunset, each person's heart is visible to everyone else, in whatever form that may be, for better or for worse.

in which kyoutani has an actual puppy dog heart, yahaba is the most unconventional disney character alive, and oikawa is still the best senpai.

or: the story of yahaba's adventures in the big city.

This World is Just Illusion by shions_heart (T)

Summary: Yahaba Shigeru was a scientist set to work on and administer the SS-415 Serum to the test subject Kyoutani Kentarou. But when the experiment fails, he's forced to relocate with an unstable Kyoutani and make a new home for them.

(Or the story of how the Mad Dog gang was formed.)

*

Lev/Yaku (otp: angry small and dirty large)

Touch by Mysecretfanmoments (T)

Summary:  After a twisted ankle and an uncomfortable realization, Yaku starts to see a different side of Lev—one he doesn't want to kick at all. (Or, well... not often.)

Yaku and the Beanstalk by Mysecretfanmoments (T)

Summary: 

Yaku Morisuke is many things: a libero, a caretaker, a good student. He's also about to find Lev Haiba stuck in a vending machine.

(In which Yaku accidentally recruits Lev to the volleyball team and can't get rid of him after.)

*

Oikawa/Suga (otp: 100 days with mr. refreshing)

all the small things by Authoress (T)

Summary:

Sugawara Koushi.

Oikawa’s brain supplies the name of the person standing at the other end of the aisle before Oikawa can even register him, attuned to spitting out facts about other volleyball players on a second’s notice, even after all these years. Karasuno High vice-captain. 174 cm…no, more like 176 now. Skilled at raising morale and bringing an element of surprise to their strategy. Troublesome. Refreshing. Setter.

The enemy.

*

Oikawa/Ushijima (otp: don’t you ever forget my worthless pride & prejudice)

A Fish out of Water by masi (M)

Summary:  Ushijima is having a hard time adjusting to life in Tokyo.

This Insignificant Pride and Prejudice by Mysecretfanmoments, Pouler (T)  ❤❤❤

Summary:  Oikawa Tooru graduated high school with the burning desire to succeed in his college career. He'd hoped that might include taking down his arch-nemesis along the way, but when he finds that his college team hosts an offensively familiar face, he can't help but think that the universe might be conspiring against him. After all, what could be worse than playing on the same team as Ushijima?

it’s kind of like a promise by songtofly (T)  ❤

Summary:  Devotion, Ushijima Wakatoshi learns, is a two-way street.

like someone in love by masi (T)

Summary:  Oikawa tries to resolve an unexpected Ushiwaka-related problem carefully and calmly.

#notalovestory by iiejn, readerofsaph (T)

Summary: 

Oikawa Tooru, Japan's representative pretty boy actor, lands the best movie role of his career yet. Shame about who else is acting in it, too.

Dearest Oikawa,

I am sorry that you hit me at the party last week. I am confident that your reputation will survive the backlash. Hopefully we will be able to speak on better terms the next time we meet.

Yours, Ushijima Wakatoshi

On A Willful Afternoon When I Thought Love Could Choose by Zee (E)

Summary: Ushijima gets stuck in a repeating time loop on the day his university's team must play Oikawa's. Shenanigans ensue.

Planting Season by masi (T)

Summary:  After graduation, Ushijima runs into Oikawa again.

Searching Happiness by sunspearing (T)  ❤

Summary:  The five times Oikawa tries to call it quits, and the one time Ushijima does.

*

Semi/Shirabu (otp: loving is easy, teasing is easier)

don’t let this magic die  by oilpaints (T)

Summary: 

Shirabu glances out the window, listening to the soft pitter-patter of the rain, and the even sounds of Semi’s breathing. Only now, as he glances around the cramped, dimly-lit room and spots Semi’s bag, already open and spilling out clothes onto the floorboards, does he realizes just what he’s gotten himself into.

It’s just four days, he reminds himself. Four days of sharing a room with Semi, of all people, but still — he’s been through worse, right? Right.

SPOILER:

Actually, whether he’s right or wrong is up for debate, because everything goes about just as well as anyone would expect. (Which is to say: surprisingly, nobody dies, Shirabu learns more about Semi Eita than he ever would have bargained for, and that, maybe, he’s not so bad.

Maybe.)

face to the sun by oilpaints (G)

Summary: 

Shirabu Kenjirou, as told by friends both old and new.

Kawatabi clicks his tongue. “I still don’t get why you were born in spring,” he says. “You’re so bitter and cold. More of a winter child, if you ask me.”

Shirabu just shrugs lightly, lips tugged upwards in a faint smile. “But I didn’t ask you,” he says. “And besides, spring is all about new beginnings, isn’t it?”

Impulse by Metis_Ink (T)  ❤❤❤

Summary: 

"Semi’s not sure how subtle the team is trying to be, but there must be some ungodly conspiracy pointed against him. It’s working in the sense that Semi is half aware that maybe this rivalry with Shirabu is a lot more troublesome than it seems, but really, that’s all he's getting."

Or

Second year Semi Eita faces the downward spiral that is his life following the arrival of some first year setter who's way too cocky for his own good.

Scarf Trick by togekissies (G)

Summary: The last thing Shirabu wants to do is run into a naggy upperclassman after a long day.

seven day’s luck by togekissies (T)

Summary: 

(semishira week fic collection)

One: Semi and Shirabu go on a date. Two: Shirabu can't stand executive meddling more than he can't stand Semi. Three: Shirabu and Semi are just kids at reform school, discussing treason on the roof in the way only prideful teenagers can. Four: Semi is a nostalgic loser. Shirabu pushes him in a creek. Five: Semi steals some intel. Shirabu doesn't like patching him up.

*

Tsukishima/Yamaguchi (otp: when did you ever get so cool?)

blue summer sky by deanpendragon (T)  ❤❤❤

Summary:  In which Tadashi manages his grandfather's pet store and Tsukishima works at the music shop next door. Lots of exclamation points, dialogue, obvious crushes, internal (and overexcited) monologuing, animal trivia and terrible puns ensue.

by any other name by memorde (T)

Summary: 

A Concise Guide to Dealing with People Asking if your Best Friend and/or Crush is Single:

Panic

Lie

Run

campfire in your chest by deanpendragon (M)  ❤❤❤

Summary:  Kei realizes in their second year of high school that he's probably been in love with Yamaguchi since they were ten. However hopeless he might be in handling that situation, Kei prays he's at least not as hopeless as Hinata and Kageyama. But he just might be.

let’s keep this professional by laubear  ❤

Summary: 

When the first sincere gesture of Tsukishima Kei’s life costs him his glamorous job as a sports agent, only a wide-eyed, freckled accountant volunteers to jump ship with him. But if the two of them can save the careers of volleyball’s legendary Oddball Duo, things might just work out after all.

Or, the story of how Tsukishima Kei got fired, got married, adopted a kid, and fell in love. In that order.

levels of investment by skittidyne (T)

Summary: 

Yamaguchi was far less nervous in practice than any games, and he’d gotten far more skilled at serving in a few short months, so Tsukishima was utterly unprepared for the feeling of a volleyball slamming into the back of his head.

There was a beat of silence.

The ball had enough of an angle to bounce off his head and over to the other side of the net, landing neatly in front of a stunned Sugawara.

(( or: Ennoshita plots for the future, Suga wants to mess around and is intent on dragging everyone down to his level, Noya tries to become a spiker, Kiyoko is a good senpai, Yamaguchi cries, and Tsukishima wonders if he's been dropped off in the Twilight Zone without his notice ))

These Words You Don’t Hear by ohhello (E)

Summary:  Tadashi is convinced entering into his third year at Karasuno means that he is one year closer to losing what he holds most dear: his team, his friends, and most importantly his daily moments with Kei. While Tadashi wrestles with his fear of lasts, Kei struggles with how to offer him firsts.

[mysclerosis-blog]

The Story So Far

Hi, I'm Jacob. A lot of people call me Fent/Fenty, I'm 24 and I have relapsing multiple sclerosis.

That's all I can think about a lot of the time; that and I see most of my life through the scope of MS. I'm new to this, you see. I was only diagnosed in January after more than a year of trying to find out what was actually going on with me.

I've never been a stranger to fatigue, due to being diagnosed with chronic fatigue syndrome at 12 years old. On top of that I've had experiences with sciatica causing nerve pain and reduced sensation through my legs and especially feet.  It wasn't until I'd developed a tremor in my right hand and a lack of coordination in my my limbs in November 2015 that I had any idea something was wrong. I've always been a drummer for as long as I can remember and at the start of my symptoms fresh off the back of a music degree (contemporary world jazz music, to be exact) with first class honours. Not for much longer. Not in the same way at least. Around this time I met my love, Jessica. She lives 300 miles away but I have a car and since we met online a few months ago we've fallen deeply in love. Throughout all of what's happened through my journey with multiple sclerosis so far, she's been so patient and understanding that even in my fearful attempts to show her how hopeless my future is or whatever feeble thing I've been telling myself, she's stuck by me and shone a light on me that is honestly about the only thing that's kept me hanging on at times. Enough mush for now though, on with the story...

The uncertainty of when or if my tremor and coordination problems were going to return shook my confidence, already having lost a lot of my skills. Since then I've barely played, and I've not written a piece of music since either, being more disenchanted with music than I thought I could ever be. More on this later though.

I opted not to go to have a referral to a neurologist right away, thinking it would just go away. Over the coming months a whole load of other interesting things happened though, including intermittent (and PAINFUL, let me tell you) cramping of all of the muscles on my righthand side, often making me fall to the floor on my side until it passed. The symptom I notice most, though, is the reduced sensation in my feet and up my legs. Having mistaken this for another, very persistent, sciatica flare-up, I was stretching very frequently and noticing no real improvements. Even my chiropractor said she couldn't find a single knot or tight muscle in my back. On July 9th it will be a whole year since I had complete and uninterrupted sensation in my feet. Happy anniversary...

Fast-forwarding to when I finally saw a neurologist in September 2016, he couldn't see much wrong with me and took my symptoms to be an exaggeration of my natural essential tremor, caused by my underlying health (my degree and life events around the time had really worn me out) and said there was a very minimal chance it could be something more sinister and if I wanted, he could run some tests. Yes please!

In November I had an MRI and a blood test done, the results of which were published around Christmas. There was a long wait to actually be told the results by my neurologist, but in the meantime I'd had an appointment with a psychiatrist who had actually seen my MRI results and told me (erroneously) that I probably had Wilson's disease - a super rare disease affecting copper metabolism that can cause neurological symptoms. Great, I thought. I can get treated for that, get this copper out of my brain and be back to my normal self in no time, right? Well, as I found out almost a month later, and I can't stress this enough; hell fucking no. On the plus side, I now have a few minutes of conversation to fill with facts about Wilson's disease if it ever comes up in conversation... which I'm not expecting to happen any time particularly soon... Anyway, my GP had printed off the radiologist's report on my MRI scan, which didn't have a diagnosis, but described what the images showed. Now, I'm the sort that will research things I don't understand, particularly when it comes to psychology and biology. Doctors probably hate me. Regardless, in amongst the jargon like "T2 weighted" and "FLAIR", whatever they meant, and wherever the areas of the brain were whose names I couldn't remember for you if you wanted me to, I spotted a word I'd never seen before. Demyelination.

D e m y e l i n a t i o n.

That doesn't sound like copper to me, and it doesn't sound like the telltale characteristic sign of copper deposits in the brain á la Wilson's. And google shows no results for "Wilson's disease demyelination" (Remember i said that doctors probably hate me?). Well, googling demyelination tells that the most common demyelinating disease is multiple sclerosis. Right, okay... That thought can stay buried deep then...

And it did. Maybe it was one of the other demyelinating diseases. Maybe it was something easily fixed. Maybe it wasn't that. Maybe it was something. I'd take a medical anomaly, anything, at this point. But in my head I think I knew. I went to the neurologist's office for my followup appointment January 16th 2017, and then this all became a little bit real. And then a lot real. I'd heard of multiple sclerosis. I had no idea what it really was. I has no idea about it at all really except a small amount I'd read the weeks previous. But there are some sentences you expect to never apply to you that all of a sudden do.

"I have multiple sclerosis", I would say out loud, almost with a smirk, trying to tell myself. Trying to make myself believe it. But I couldn't. Not yet. The only real positive I've heard today is that the MRI I'd had in 2014 to check for ear canal obstructions was clear, so it's less than two years I've had this. But still, it's hard to focus on a small victory such as that when, still, "I have multiple sclerosis" isn't a lie anymore.

And so begins the dissociation. And the reading. So much reading, so much information, so many different opinions and 'cures' and fixes and treatments and advice and research and studies. But I'm convinced I'm going to be the first person with this disease that completely beats it. For a few weeks. And here comes a relapse.

I'm not so bulletproof now. I can barely walk without tripping over my feet and my legs are spasming ridiculously. I need help to walk and my left hand is so slow and cramped up. I can barely feel anything from 6 inches above my belly button and my nerves HURT. What luck that I'm meeting my MS specialist consultant neurologist this week though. Some oral steroids  (first prize for 'worst taste on earth', congratulations methylprednisolone!) have me sorted out and somewhat bulletproof again, but the reality is starting to set in now. My consultant has given me the names of two treatments to research; Tysabri and Lemtrada. Yay, more reading. Cos I haven't had enough existential crisis by this point.

Next come the lows, lower than many of the lows I've experienced before in what I wouldn't describe as an easy life. Those stories are for a different day, perhaps a different blog, I haven't quite decided yet. Getting to grips with this disease and the uncertainty of every day is an interesting task; rarely a boring one and never an easy one. I feel like I could spend a week or so of solid typing of my negative feelings and setbacks but I won't. Not yet...

Anyway, moving swiftly to the present day. It's June 30th. It's 6:00 in the morning and as usual, I haven't slept. My preordered copy of the PS4 remastered version of the Crash Bandicoot trilogy (a hugely important part of my youth, and in the present day) is set to arrive in a few hours. I'm typing on the laptop I bought to make my five days receiving Lemrada next month more palatable. I now own a trumpet and an acoustic guitar and have about 1/4 of a drum kit set up. I'm somewhat motivated to get back into music; writing, recording, playing and the time away from it all has changed the way I think of myself as a musician. I'm actually getting excited about music again. Jessica and I are still together and every day she gives me inspiration to keep living, and for her and our future together I hold on until the end of the day each day. Sometimes barely but I haven't failed at that yet so that's something to take pride in. Time will tell where else the river will take me; piss knows I had no idea it would take me where I've already been so I've stopped expecting the scenic route by now. Life still feels like a bit like being on an unfamiliar planet, and one I'm not quite fully welcome on at times, but in amongst my fears for the future, both near and far, there's a glimmer of hope.

[forgedobsidian]

Nothing Ever Good

A MHA fanfiction.

AO3

Summary:

Naomasa has had confusing opinions on hospitals over the years, and Toshinori's injury at the hands of All For One doesn't make things any clearer.

TW for pain, blood, and medical stuff.

I’ve had this up on AO3 for a while and wanted to put it here just to keep things even.

Naomasa Tsukauchi had a bit of a complicated relationship with hospitals.

It had probably started when he was younger. He had taken a fall down some stairs when he was six, resulting in a broken arm and a necessary visit to the hospital. He hadn’t liked the way the lights reflected on the too-clean floors or the way the nurses always looked exhausted. It had been sterile and too quiet and even with his mother holding his hand, it scared him.

The fear had passed, eventually to be replaced with a sense of trepidation. He had grown up, met other people - including the man would would eventually become All Might and his closest friend - and decided to become a detective. Helping others had always appealed to him, and he decided that he could do that best by entering the police force.

Then the hospital visits involved seeing family, coworkers, and civilians involved in one case or another. The beeping of the machines had always seemed impersonal and emotionless, and the sheets on the beds had always made the patient look small. He felt cold whenever he was in a hospital, though he was always respectful and removed his coat. He was always happy that he was fairly robust and never had to be a patient himself.

There were times when he didn’t mind being in a hospital. Whenever a friend or family member was discharged he was always happy, and being able to bring together families involved in cases always made his chest warm.

And then Toshinori had fought with All-For-One. The first time.

He could still remember the rush to get the broken body of his friend to the nearest emergency center, the field medics hooking up machines and blood bags to the still form while they rattled along in the back of a retrofitted ambulance. Naomasa was always at his side, pressing his coat - and later medical bandages at the direction of the medics - to the gaping hole the villain had punched in his friend. He had focused on just keeping Toshinori together as much as possible, even though his blue eyes were half-closed and glossy and please don’t die.

Then, somewhere along the rushed journey, Toshinori’s heart stopped. The oxygen mask held against his mouth and nose stopped misting over with breath and blood. Naomasa had been pushed to the side, staggering away from where All Might had been stretched out as the emergency personnel tried to bring his friend back. It had taken three shocks with the portable defibrillator to get it started again. The rhythm of his heart was still rickety, but he lasted till the hospital at least.

Naomasa had been forced to stay at the entryway doors and could only watch as his friend was wheeled away. It was then he noticed the blood covering his front, splattered across his pale hands and face. He stood in the hallway of the hospital, and everything got very quiet.

Eventually a nurse took pity on the bloodstained detective and gently led him to a shower, leaving a pair of hospital scrubs for him to change into.

After getting clean, tossing his bloodied clothes in a garbage hamper, and ignoring the red under his fingernails that no amount of work would dislodge, he went out to the waiting room. Torino joined him after a while, all his nicks and scrapes tended to and stitched together. Naomasa looked up at the other man from his hunched position in the hospital chair. “I don’t know how he’s doing.”

Torino nodded, his visible eye downcast. The other was swollen over, bruised purple and black. The two of them sat in that room until the next day. Naomasa was sure that he had fallen asleep at some point, exhausted and worried and feeling queasy. Sometime in the night he was contacted by the officials.

They hadn’t found a body, but given the destruction of the area and the hit Torino had seen Toshinori land on All for One it was unlikely that he survived. It was fortunate that the field medics and doctors that had dealt with All Might thought that they were helping a victim of a car crash. Naomasa listened to all of this, mentally foggy from exhaustion. He didn’t remember hanging up at the end of the impromptu briefing. At some point he had contacted the police station, saying that a family emergency had come up and that he wouldn’t be in for his shift.

36 hours had passed since they had brought Toshinori and his broken body to this hospital when Naomasa checked his phone the next time. Then 40 hours. Then another five. At that point Naomasa was feeling razor-thin, his patience whittled down to a splinter by worry. He tried to ignore how cold he felt.

Then, thankfully, an exhausted doctor walked up to them. He looked around for a moment and, finding the waiting room empty, sat down with a heavy sigh. “You came in with the crash victim, right?”

“Yeah.” Naomasa almost started at his voice, thick with emotion and tiredness.

“Does he have any family we should contact?”

Torino and Naomasa looked at each other. “. . . no. There’s just us two.”

“Alright.” The doctor sighed and slouched in his seat. There were dark circles under his eyes. “It was lucky that you were there, officer. He might not have made it otherwise.”

“A-and how is he?”

“Well, he’s stable enough for now that we need to risk moving him to a larger facility. They’ll be able to handle it from there.”

It was quiet for a moment. Then, Torino’s voice broke the silence. “How bad is it?”

The doctor looked at them both, seeing their haggard appearance. He ran a hand down his face. “You said that you’re family, right?”

“Yes.”

The doctor eyed them both for a second before clasping his hands and clearing his throat. “Honestly, he shouldn’t be alive. I know that his heart stopped on the way here, and the amount of blood loss is . . . there’s just so little we can actually do here. His internal organs are screwed up in one way or another, blunt force trauma or lacerations or simple lack of blood. His torso is shattered, and it wouldn’t surprise me if they end up having to remove a few things. And that was just the large injury.”

Naomasa cradled his head in his hands, slowly shaking it as if to deny the doctor’s words.

“The bones in both of his hands have a variety of fractures. While the left portion of his torso sustained the greatest damage, his entire rib cage is weak with microfractures and worse. The left side of his hip is cracked. His left arm is broken in two different places. He has a concussion, which makes it dangerous for us to keep him under anesthesia. There are multiple lacerations all over his body. Honestly, I’ve never seen someone so battered.”

Naomasa’s voice was quiet. “What can you actually do?”

“He was pumping air into his chest cavity - we managed to fix that. We’ve removed all the bone fragments we could find, removed the irreparably damaged internal tissue and temporarily closed up the chest wound. We reinforced his ribcage as well as we could. Right now he’s being pumped full of painkiller and antibiotics. He’s on his eleventh blood transfusion unit. He’ll be airlifted to the closest facility that can handle massive trauma. I’ll give you the address once he’s on his way.”

“. . . alright.”

The doctor gave them a sympathetic look. “I won’t pretend that his chances are good, and even if he makes it through the week it’ll be a long road. However, the fact that he’s made it this far proves that he’s a fighter. I wish you all luck.”

“. . . thank you.”

The doctor left. Naomasa looked at Torino. The hero was haggard, his age echoed in his gray hair and the lines around his eyes. He seemed to have gotten older over the past two days.

For one ridiculous moment Naomasa wondered if it was all a surreal dream. Maybe now he would wake up and make a cup of coffee, listening to the radio in the stillness of the morning. Maybe he would be able to walk down to the bus stop and hitch a ride to Toshinori’s street. Maybe he’d be able to talk with his friend over breakfast, because while he might be a fantastic hero, Toshinori can’t be bothered to take care of himself sometimes and, really, he should fix that because if he goes so far as forgetting to eat something obviously needs to change. Maybe he’d be able to sleep without seeing his friend covered in blood and gore and his heart stopping and going like a bizarre metronome.

Naomasa didn’t register the tears on his face until Torino placed a hand on his shoulder and gently leaned against the younger man. Torino’s voice was raspy as he spoke. “He’ll be all right, he’ll be all right.”

Naomasa felt bile rise in his throat when he entered the hospital Toshinori had been transferred to. The hair raised on his arms as he walked through the doors, and his hands shook as he walked to the front desk and asked for Toshinori’s room number. The clerk at the desk told him that “Mr. Yagi is still in surgery, but his room number is 752. You’ll have to step out when they bring him in, and then depending on what the doctors say you might be allowed to sit with him.”

He sat in a small area on the seventh floor, uncomfortably pinched in hospital chairs that always seemed too small. He watched as they wheeled Toshinori into his room a few hours later. A nurse came up to him and said that he could sit with his friend, but to keep quiet and let him rest.

The first time he saw Toshinori after he was forced to stay outside of the emergency room doors it was a bit difficult to recognize his friend. Oh, the insane blond hair was still there, as well as the hard earned muscle, but the hospital bed made his large body seem small. There was an oxygen mask strapped around his head, covering everything from the ridge of his nose to his chin. Various IV’s trailed from his right arm, connecting to the metallic stand at his bedside. A heart rate monitor was clipped to his finger, the cord plugged into a screen with a green line bouncing up and down. Naomasa could see the bulge of bandages under the faded blue blankets.

Toshinori’s breathing was raspy, dragged along his throat, but at least he was breathing. His skin was pale, but the monitor beeped with a reassuring consistency.

He was alive.

Three days after Toshinori’s transfer he developed an infection. A bone splinter from his rib had embedded itself in the muscle of his torso and slipped past the surgeries. Naomasa had to watch his friend suffer through fevers and chills. It was hard for Toshinori to breathe. His lungs seemed to shudder with every breath, the air rushing past his throat with a jagged wheeze.

Those were long nights. Naomasa spent them curled in flimsy hospital chairs.

Then, a week after the battle with All For One, Toshinori woke up. The infection had been drained twice, and his body had decided that it had had enough of being asleep. His eyes were blurry, though he did seem to register where he was. Naomasa was at his bedside in an instant, gently placing his hand on Toshinori’s arm.

“Easy, Toshinori. It’s all right, you’re in the hospital.”

Toshinori blinked very slowly. “. . . mmmmnhhnmmm.”

Naomasa was happy that he could see the blue of Toshinori’s eyes. He dragged his chair over to the bed, gently leaning on the side. “You’ve been out of it for a week. Got pretty roughed up.”

“Mmmhmm.”

It was bizarre, but Naomasa gave a small laugh. “I’ll tell you more when you’ll actually remember it. But for now you’re safe - everyone’s safe.”

How much Toshinori could actually register Naomasa couldn’t tell. But he did recognize the relief in his friend’s eyes as they slipped closed into sleep.

He had to watch as the months slipped by and his friend was eaten away by pain and time. He had been strong and built before, the muscle filling in his tall frame and showing his strength even when he wasn’t using his quirk. Now he sometimes lacked the energy to hold his head up. His blue eyes were constantly surrounded by shadow.

His stomach was removed early on. They tried to save his left lung, but given the damage it had sustained as well as the general instability of his torso they had removed it as well. His breath rattled and he habitually coughed up blood and congestion from his mangled chest.

His bones knitted, his cuts healed, but the injury to his torso continued to eat his friend alive. The numerous surgeries and their many complications stretched the skin beyond being able to fully heal, the resulting scar being a gnarled mess of raised tissue and valleys of permanently discolored flesh. The ribs had healed in a warped imitation of their original form and the muscle had been so damaged that some of it had been directly removed.

The doctors said that he would improve once he had a chance to heal from all the procedures and surgeries and get on a different diet, but Naomasa knew Toshinori would never truly heal .

He still felt cold in the hospital, but he got used to it. Like hell he was going to let his friend go through this alone.

“You’ll never believe what I found!”

“Oh dear. I haven’t seen that look on your face for a long time!”

Naomasa grinned. “You remember how I was really into recording things while we stayed in that one apartment? The one with the yellow wallpaper?”

“. . . you didn’t.”

“I did!” Naomasa declared, a grin on his face as he held up several plastic-encased CD’s.

A tiny, but genuine, smile flickered across Toshinori’s face. Naomasa waved the CD’s around enticingly. “Wanna watch? I brought my laptop.”

His friend gave a small wheezing laugh. “Why not?” Naomasa gently settled next to Toshinori on the hospital bed, being careful of various cords and ignoring the way his flesh crawled at the rough texture of the hospital blanket.

The first one they watched was dated to the time when Naomasa had been studying for his final tests to be accepted onto the police force and Toshinori had been continuing his training under Gran Torino. The clip opened to a view of an plain hallway with doors leading off to either side. After a moment the younger voice of Naomasa filtered through the speakers.

“So, Toshi has been training his ass for for weeks now and finally has a while off. And, since I’m trashed from studying and my sense of self preservation has completely left my brain, I’ve decided to try something out.”

The camera made it’s way shakily to the second door on the left. After opening it and allowing some light to fall into the room and on an mass of blanket resting on a bed that was pushed against the far wall. A snore came from the lump, blond hair twitching where it could be seen poking out of the thick blanket.

“Oh gosh. He’s gonna kill me but it’ll be so worth it. Just let me-” The camera jostled a bit before coming to rest on a dresser next to the door. A younger Naomasa could be seen tiptoing over to the bed. Then, in a fairly decent impression of Torino’s voice, Naomasa boomed “ Young Toshinori, get your ass out of bed! You’re late for training! ”

The reaction was rather remarkable. Toshinori yelped and the blanket shot towards the ceiling as the muscled body underneath tried to get out of bed. Unfortunately, exhaustion and being woken in the middle of the night made the young Toshinori less than coordinated and he flopped out of bed with a clatter. Half of him made it to the floor. The other half was still draped over his bed.

For a moment everything was still, then a muffled “ Wait . . .” could be heard coming from where Toshinori had face planted into the floor. Naomasa cackled and dashed out of the room, making sure to grab the camera.

“Naomasa! Once I get my hands on you you’re gonna regret this!”

“Only if you can catch me!” The camera jostled and the video ended.

Toshinori, the one at his side, was giving a wheezing laugh. “I’d forgotten about this!”

“Yeah. I’d forgotten too. You never did catch me.”

“I’m pretty sure I fell back asleep on the floor.”

“Yeah, I can see you doing something like that.”

Toshinori was still laughing, but it started to take on a wet edge. Then he was coughing, hand pressed to his mouth. Naomasa quickly got off the bed and grabbed a towel. By the time he managed to hand it to Toshinori there was blood leaking from between his fingers. Naomasa gently rubbed Toshinori’s back as the fit continued and Toshinori coughed into the towel. A few minutes passed before, with a final shuddering wheeze, Toshinori dropped the towel from his hand to pool in his lap. It was stained with red.

Naomasa grabbed it and stood to throw it in the hamper. When he was turning back the quiet voice of Toshinori nearly didn’t reach his ears.

“. . . sorry.”

“Don’t you dare apologize,” Naomasa said, sitting in the chair and pulling out another CD. “It’s not your fault and I don’t mind.”

Toshinori looked at his friend and sighed.

When Toshinori was discharged from the hospital Naomasa couldn’t be happier. The hospital and injury had chewed his friend up and spat him out, leaving him with a handicap and a shortened lifespan.

The first time Toshinori had a major attack Naomasa was with him, thankfully. He had picked up his friend and dashed to the closest emergency room, holding his coughing friend and not noticing the blood that was leaking through the thin material of his shirt. All the medical personnel could do was give Toshinori a morphine drip, which turned out to be nearly useless.

Then Naomasa, for a moment or two, hated hospitals.

Still, Toshinori healed as well as he could, went back to work, and life moved on. He still had the major attacks, the bad days, and Naomasa couldn’t always be there.

The police detective decided to see a therapist after a while.

“It’s not that I don’t appreciate what doctors and nurses and emergency staff do, but I still can’t get rid of the feeling of fear, or maybe distaste. I’ve hated hospitals a time or two actually, despite never requiring their service personally.”

She sat across from him, legs crossed as she leaned back in her chair. “Do you have anyone close to you that had a bad experience with hospitals? Or maybe this feeling comes from when you broke your arm when you were younger.”

“I don’t really think it’s from that, but I wouldn’t rule it out.” Naomasa leaned on his knees. “I do have a friend, a close friend who’s like a brother to me in more ways than one, and he’s been in and out of hospitals for the past six months. He got in a pretty nasty accident.”

“Is he doing alright?”

Naomasa snorted. “He says he is, but I can tell that he’s not.”

“Can you tell me some details? It’s all right if you don’t want to - I want to hear more about your reaction to everything moreso than the actual accident.”

“Sure, sure. It . . . it was a pretty bad car accident. I was with him. The ambulance was short staffed because of a fire nearby, so I had to help on the way to the hospital. It was . . . bad. Quite a few doctors said that he shouldn’t have been able to survive. I visited whenever I could. Before, he was really strong and a bit of a fitness nut, actually. Then, after the accident, he lost so much weight and he’s tired all the time. He loved his job, but can’t work as long as he wants to now. It was a big change, and he’s going to have to deal with the results of the injuries and the surgeries for the rest of his life.”

She listened attentively, and understanding sparked in her eyes. “I think I see, actually.”

“See what?”

“Your friend went into the hospital injured, but still as you knew him. Now, in the post-hospital setting, he’s different in appearance and, from what you told me, lifestyle. It seems, at least to me, that you partially blame the hospital for not being able to do more .”

Naomasa looked at her with a raised eyebrow. “It was a pretty serious accident, and I don’t think that I blame them for not being able to heal him completely.”

“Are you sure? We’ve talked about this in past sessions - the way the feeling of the hospital in non-positive situations seems to not be connected to anything. Now, however, there’s a reason for that.”

“Listen, I’m just happy that he’s alive.”

“But he’s not the same. It’s natural to be angry - even as a police officer you can’t force him to heal beyond what he can. Hospitals are where people heal and recover, and you feel that they failed in their job when it comes to this important person in your life. So, that’s where the anger comes from. You also understand that the incident that your friend went through was, at least from what you told me, extremely debilitating and that there wasn’t much they could do beyond keeping him alive and bringing him up to the best point possible. So, you feel guilty for feeling angry. You’re also extremely happy that your friend survived, which is due to the efforts of hospital staff. You feel guilty, again, about being angry that the best efforts of the people who saved your friend’s life weren’t enough to bring him back to how he was before the accident. No wonder you feel confused.”

“Well . . .” Naomasa started to say something, but it died on his tongue as something clicked into place in his head.

“That doesn’t quite square up with the fact that you’ve been feeling uncomfortable in hospitals for as long as you can remember, but it does do something to explain the way you’re feeling now. It’s alright to feel that way, and even if you never quite figure out why, you know and appreciate what medical staff do. I wouldn’t be too worried, detective.”

The fight at Kamino Ward years later filled him with well-earned anxiety. As soon as the dust had settled and the media had been shooed away for the police and government officials to clear the scene, he sprinted to where he had last seen All Might.

He found his friend sitting on a piece of rubble, breathing heavily and bleeding, but alive. All Might was alone, having waved all the field medics and other heros away, saying that the people in the rubble of the decimated city blocks needed them more. As Naomasa knelt in front of the hero he placed a gentle hand on Toshinori’s shoulder, giving it a grip and mentally thanking anyone who was listening that this wasn’t like last time.

“Hey there, big guy.”

It took a moment for Toshinori to register the touch and words. His blue eyes flicked up from the ground between his feet and stared up into the worried face of his friend. His smile was a ghost of itself and he seemed oblivious to the trickle of blood dripping from the corner of his mouth.

“Hey.”

“How’re you feeling?”

The hero looked down at his right arm and his shoulder twitched, as though he was trying to move it. Confusion flickered across his face and his voice was quiet and wavy.

“I think I broke my arm.”

Naomasa gave weary smile. “That’s okay. You’re gonna get fixed up, alright? First, though, we gotta get you up outta this pit.”

“I don’t . . . don’t think I can walk very far. I’m tired.”

“I know, buddy. Here - let me help.”

Naomasa gently slipped under Toshinori’s comparatively healthy left arm, placing it across his shoulders and slipping his right hand around Toshinori’s waist to grip his belt. They both stood at the same time, Toshinori leaning against his friend like a crutch and trying to keep his arm still. Toshinori felt lightheaded briefly as they caught their balance - Naomasa was quite a bit shorter and had to adapt to Toshinori’s height - but then everything faded back to the gray of a post-fight adrenaline crash.

Their first few steps were uncertain, but Naomasa was determined and soon they were staggering towards the edge of the crater created by the battle. Naomasa could feel some blood leaking through the right side of his jacket, but he couldn’t risk moving any faster.

All Might stumbled and suddenly Tiger was there, gently wrapping his arm and some soft tendrils  around Toshinori’s mangled body. His deep voice was soothing. “Don’t push yourself - I’ve got you.”

The older hero looked at him in exhausted shock. “What about the people in the rubble?”

“I was coming back from helping some of them to the emergency medical tents. You aren’t taking any time from them, I promise.”

“Oh. Okay.”

The odd trio made it to where tents and areas for medical evacuations had been hastily set up. As they were walking through the single row the injured civilians and some medical staff looked at All Might, their faces streaked with dust. The talk and rustling of supplies stilled as the trio reached the halfway point. It became quiet enough that they unconsciously stopped walking, standing in the middle of the pathway.

Then, in the silence, someone started clapping.

It grew quickly, till most everyone they could see was clapping and looking at Toshinori. Some people were crying, tears cutting through dirt and grime. Others shouted their thanks. Everyone was smiling.

Toshinori seemed confused, sagging between the two people who supported him. “What are they-”

Naomasa shifted under Toshinori’s arm and Tiger gave an amused chuckle. “That is for you , All Might.”

“For .. .” Toshinori looked around with amazement in his blue eyes, smile still plastered to his face. Naomasa gave a grin.

Then, of all things, Toshinori started to cry. It wasn’t dramatic or attention grabbing. His eyes crinkled a bit and tears gathered at the edges. His smile wavered for a moment then became heartwarming in its sincerity. The battered hero stood a little taller and gave a shaky thumbs-up with his left hand.

The thankful cheers followed them to the end of the tent row, where a helicopter was waiting to take Toshinori to yet another hospital. As Naomasa was helping his injured friend onto the gurney that would transport him he saw fresh tear tracks making their way through the blood and grime on All Might’s drawn face.

This time Naomasa couldn’t go directly with his friend to the hospital. He had to stay behind, making sure that All For One was properly detained and that there was no remaining trace of the other villains that they hadn’t been able to pin down. The people dragged from the rubble were all evaluated, some sent on emergency vehicles to nearby medical centers. By the time he was given permission to leave the scene he went directly to his office to file away what had happened. He fell asleep at his office desk, lamp shining on his head and a pen held loosely in his hand.

Sometime in the night someone draped his coat over his shoulders.

He was granted a few days of leave the next evening and the moment he was out of the station he was taking a cab to Toshinori’s hospital, the stars outside flickering past the car window. Gran Torino had to vouch for him at the front desk, but other than that it was fairly simple to make his way to Toshinori’s room.

The room was quiet and dark, curtains pulled across the windows and the sharp smell of antiseptic floating on the air. A moment of painful deja vu flitted across his memory, but those were worse times and right now he just wanted to see his friend.

There was a wrap of bandages around his head, and his right arm was encased in a cast. The familiar sound of a heart monitor quietly beeped in the corner as Toshinori slept. Naomasa dimly took note of the faint wrinkles at the corners of Toshinori’s eyes and the exhausted slope of his mouth.

Naomasa shook his head and pulled the chairs together, grabbing spare blankets and pillows to create a makeshift cot. He didn’t lay down just yet, though. Instead he sat next to Toshinori’s bedside and gently grabbed his friend’s left hand. His voice was quiet and relieved.

“Don’t worry, Toshinori. I’ll be right here.”

Headcannon that Naomasa and Toshinori were childhood friends and they were both giant Movie Nerds.

I’ve had this up on AO3 for a while, and didn’t realize until a few days ago that I had only put up a link on tumblr. So, yeah. Here it is.

Thank you for reading!!