#tw: sick child

[bearsinpotatosacks]

Evolved a fic idea yesterday from a simple, Eva’s sick, Richie argues with Carmy and leaves to take care of her anyway fic to a longer one that's making my whumpy heart leap.

Tiff and Frank are out of town for his sister’s wedding. Carmy already didn’t let Richie have this Saturday off because "we have a shift schedule for a reason, you’re off every other Saturday already," so he's dropping her off at a friend's for a sleepover.

He gets a call from the mum at midday saying Eva’s been sick. He races over there to pick her up despite what Carmy says and fully prepares to just drive home but realises he left some of his things in his locker in his panic to leave.

When he gets back, he sets Eva down, goes to get his things, and gets in another argument with Carmy because he's not letting him leave, he doesn’t get why Tiff’s parents can't have her. Richie flips out, telling Carmy that his daughter is infinitely more important to him than this restaurant, that he'd set it on fire to make sure she was okay.

He takes her home, promising to make her Galushki like his grandma made him when he was sick, and tells Carmy he'll see him on Tuesday.

Eva doesn't get better. Richie’s trying hard not to panic, getting her to eat little bits, keep her fluids up even when she throws it up, her fever doesn't break. She's sick in the night, Richie’s reminded of Mikey’s bad nights as he cleans it up, and holds her through nightmares when she sleeps in his bed.

It's only in the morning, when she’d talking to Mikey, and has a rash that doesn't go away when he rolls a glass on it that he gets worried. He's getting up to call her doctor when she slumps on the sofa and starts seizing and he fully freaks out, shaking her, asking her to wake up, please Eva, baby, wake up.

He picks her up, grabs her sleepover bag and some essentials and speeds his way to the hospital where he carries her to the triage nurse trying not to cry and throw up begging her to do something because his baby girls way more sick than he thought.

They check her out, take some bloods, do a throat swab and even do a lumbar puncture that has Richie desperately trying not to cry as Eva cries all the way through. She's started on IV antibiotics and moved to her own room in the ER while they wait for a room in the paediatrics unit.

Richie calls Tiff, she and Frank are on the next flight home. They get the results soon after, she has meningococcal disease, a kind of meningitis. He's confused, she's had all her vaccines. The doctor explains there's a low chance with all vaccines that you get catch the disease, and that if she’s been in a communal space recently she has more of a chance. He mentions how she went to ballet camp recently.

Richie updates the work group chat. They’re all panicked. Eva gets a room and Tiff arrives. Eva gets a scan on her head to see if there’s any damage. There isn't any and they have to go home when visiting hours are over. Richie, 3 Xanax in, has a horrific panic attack when he gets home, and gets no sleep.

The Bear crew show up with food and support, but Richie tells them to keep their distance as it's very contagious. He cries to Tina about how he keeps thinking about how small she was in the bed, how scared she must've been all night alone, about the high mortality rate.

He doesn't go into work for the week she’s in hospital, Carmy forcibly keeps him off anf apologises, he wants to visit but they're limiting contact. They go home, after she has lots of tests to see if there’s any permanent affects. There are none. Eva doesn't like doctors for a long time, Richie hates hospitals but buys a thank you gift for the entire team who looked after her and is terrified to let Eva out of his sight

[thebibliosphere]

I had a severe mast cell reaction to something last night for the first time in the longest time* and I can honestly say, hand on heart, I have no idea how I lived like that 24/7 for years.

I have no idea how I dealt with that nightly as a child, only to be yelled at and told to stop attention seeking, while last night my partner held me while I shook and prepared to stick me with an epi pen.

Thankfully he didn’t have to. Thankfully my airways cleared after my body purged itself of everything I’d eaten yesterday** and my heart rate began to climb down. But Jesus Christ, I am wrecked this morning.

* no idea why, only thing I can think of is hormones + sugar which can sometimes raise histamine levels

** everyone thinks anaphylactic reactions start with visible swelling and airway constriction, but for me it’s always been the much slower reaction of severe gastric symptoms which progresses to rapid elevated heartbeat, followed by agonizing acid reflux that burns through my whole chest and then if it doesn’t stop, my airways start to close while I simultaneously start to “fall asleep” (that’s the shock.)

Very rarely do I get visible swelling or hives unless whatever triggered the reaction was from skin contact or injected into my veins. So, just so you know, anaphylaxis doesn’t always look the way it does in the movies. I tell you this only in case it saves a life one day.

[canidbutch]

i don't know if that scene was intended to make us like trinity more or make us think she's actually badass! or something but i'm actually leaning towards it just reinforcing the prior characterization of her being emotionally ill-prepared for this environment and having no self control whatsoever. as a csa survivor AND someone going into healthcare ... yeah you can't just Do That, buddy

[your-unfriendlyghost]

I’ve been seeing a lot of things talking abt how Steve’s dad being an alcoholic and is this confirmed or smth or did we all just become a hive mind on this??? Because it does say in the book that Steve doesn’t have the greatest relationship with his dad but I don’t remember anything about alcoholism? Did I miss something In the text or was this something confirmed outside of the book/movie I don’t know about??

Good question. Instinctually I wanted to say it was canon, because it seems so engraved into his character for me, but yeah no I just re-skimmed the book for it- All it says is that Steve's dad “...told him about once a week to get out and never come back. It kind of bugs Steve, even if his old man does give him five or six bucks the next morning to make up for it." (Pg. 105)

So yeah I guess that's just a headcannon then/mass hallucination lol.

I mean, it is a solid theory, considering alcoholism is something that could easily lead to erratic behavior like that- I mean, kicking your son out at night but feeling guilty(?) enough to give him $5/$6 by morning? (Keep in mind that's roughly $50/$60 in today's money!) It definitely seems like the sort of actions that'd be brought on by angry drunkenness and then regretted* once he's sober, so I can see why folks flocked to it. But uh yeah it's not technically canon! Ig it's just as possible that his dad just has serious rage issues, completely on his own.

*I'm using "regret" loosely here. To me the money is because of regret, but one could argue that it's more just to keep Steve quiet. I'm gonna stick to thinking of it as guilt though, because the messy human-ness of that is more interesting to me personally

Speaking of which, I think a similar mass hallucination is the idea that Steve's mom abandoned him! This one's less extreme as I think more folks know it isn't canon, but it does still feel relevant to the topic lol. This is a headcannon I only go for sometimes, but a lotta us treat it like it’s canon when it really isn’t. She’s never mentioned, for all we know she’s like, mom of the year or whatever. (Well ig not mom of the year considering Steve’s always being kicked out…but that’s another can of worms lol)

[sickiehugs]

When a character is feeling super sick and shitty but they don't have a fever, so they aren't taking it seriously or resting because to them, they aren't really sick unless there's visible proof. Maybe it comes from when they were growing up, and their family never took their illness seriously unless there was a fever. Maybe they would accuse them of lying to get out of things. So now, they worry if that really is the case. They work themselves to the bone and feel like they're going to collapse, but they aren't really sick unless they have a fever.

Bonus points if they have a partner who cares about their well-being, and as soon as they see them in the state they're in, they immediately make a fuss and insist that they rest. The character somehow feels good, even though they don't want their partner worrying, because someone is finally making it a big deal. It's finally real, it's finally serious.

[hyperfixatedoncrimminalminds]

Hello, could i request a spencer reid x daughter who gets really car sick and on a long drive with reid and morgan feels gross🤍

Spencer Reid x Derek Morgan x Daughter Reader

Request: Hello, could i request a spencer reid x daughter who gets really car sick and on a long drive with reid and morgan feels gross🤍

Tw vomiting, talk of being sick, if you you don't like these then don't read.

Third person pov...

As the sun rose in the distance, Spencer Reid and his daughter Y/N, packed their bags for their long-awaited trip to visit her grandmother in Las Vaga.

The teenager was excited to see her grandmother, she doesn't get to visit her often with her Dads work, but she couldn't shake the feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach.

She knew the long drive ahead would be difficult for her. You see Y/N  inherited his sensitive stomach and tendency to get car sick of course Spencers wasn't as bad but Y/Ns was.

As they loaded their bags into the car, Spencer's colleague and friend, Derek Morgan, joined them for the ride.

Y/Ns face lit up seeing Uncle Derek, and she quickly ran to give him a hug. "Uncle derek! Your comkng as well!" She exclaimed, Derek grins at his niece.

"Of course i am peanut, its been a while since i last saw Mrs Reid" he tells the girl, using kne hand to put the rest of the luggage in the trunk while holding his niece.

The three of them settled into the car, with Morgan taking the wheel while Spencer sat in the passenger sear leaving Y/N in the back.

At first, Y/N was thrilled to be on the road, chatting and playing games with her dad and Uncle Derek. But as the hours passed by, her excitement turned into discomfort.

She tried her best to ignore the queasy feeling in her stomach and the constant swaying of the car, but it was getting harder by the minute.

Spencer noticed the change in his daughter's mood and asked her if she was okay. The H/C girl put on a brave face and nodded, not wanting to ruin the trip for everyone.

She didn't want to be known as the 'car sick kid,' especially in front of Uncle Derek, who she looked up to.

But as the car continued to zigzag through the winding roads, the young girls condition worsened. She started feeling hot and dizzy, and her stomach churned with every turn.

She tried to keep her focus on the road ahead, but all she could think about was how she wanted the car ride to end.

As they stopped for a bathroom break and some snacks, Y/N silently prayed for the rest of the journey to be over quickly.

She tried sipping on some water and munching on a granola bar, but her stomach refused to settle. She felt a lump form in her throat, and she knew she couldn't hold on much longer.

As they drove on, the young girl tried to distract herself by looking out the window and pointing out interesting sights along the way.

However, her stomach had other ideas and she had to close her eyes and take deep breaths to prevent herself from getting sick.

She could hear her father and uncle Derek talking in the front seat, but their voices were distant as she focused on trying to keep her stomach settled.

"Hey princess, are you feeling okay back there?" Reid's concerned voice broke through her thoughts. His daughers eyes flicked open and she saw her father looking back at her through the rearview mirror.

"I'm fine, just a little queasy" she replied, trying to sound more confident than she felt.

"Maybe we should pull over and take a break" Morgan suggested. "I know a great roadside diner up ahead" he says as he drives a little more slowly and carefully.

Uncle Derek also noticed Y/Ns discomfort and turned on the air conditioning, hoping to provide her some relief.

"Dad" she called out weakly.

Reid turned around in his seat, concern etched on his face. "What's wrong, sweetie?"

"I feel like I'm going to throw up" the young girl replied, her voice trembling.

Reid immediately asked Derek to pull over at the next rest stop. Running to the bathroom she threw herself over the toilet and began emptying her stomach into it

Concerned for his daughter Spencer ran after her. "N/N!" He yelled sitting behind her after ahed finished throwing up he took her in his arms and rubbed her back, trying to soothe her.

Derek handed her a bottle of water and some tissues while apologizing profusely for not being more cautious about her sickness, was fine with her throwing up, he gave Y/N a bottle of water and some crackers to settle her stomach.

He also fished out her motion sickness medication from her suitcase and rubbed her back soothingly as she started to feel better.

After a few minutes she leant away from the toilet and against her dads chest feeling his warmth.

Suddenly tears start streaming down her face as she apologized to her dad and Uncle Derek, the men instantly concerned begin comforting the distressed girl.

They weren't angry or annoyed, jsut concerned about her They both comforted her and assured her that it was okay and nothing to be ashamed of.

Uncle Derek even shared his own stories of getting car sick when he was younger.

As they finally reached their destination, Y/N couldn't be happier to get out of the car and feel the solid ground beneath her feet. Despite the rough journey, she had made it, thanks to the love and support of her dad and Uncle Derek.

"Are you feeling better now, princess?" Reid asked, placing a hand on her forehead.

"Much better, thank you" The H/C girl replied with a smile. "I'm sorry for being such a hassle on the drive."

"You're not a hassle at all, N/N We don't mind taking care of you" Morgan chimed in, giving her a pat on the back.

Y/N felt a warm feeling in her heart as she looked at the two men who had become like family to her.

She knew that she had a tendency to get car sick, but that didn't stop her from going on long drives with her father and his team. And she was glad that they didn't mind and always took care of her whenever she needed it.

As the evening went on, Y/N felt her energy returning and she was able to enjoy the conference with her father and Morgan by her side.

Sure, she still avoided the car on the way back, opting for a train trip instead, but she knew that she had the love and support of two amazing men who always had her back.

The end!

Woo third one today!

Hoped you liked this oneshot, I'm planning to get through most of the requests this week as I have it off from college.

Sorry for any grammar and spelling mistakes

Requests are open!

Word count: 1177

[princess-kurosaki]

this generation is so “hypersexual” because the last generation molested us.

[bidisasterevankinard]

I had no fear for any bucktommy arc, even break up, but just saw the idea about bucktommy having sick with leukemia kid and, you know? I'm fucking terrified. Anything but this please 🙏🙏🙏 I won't be able to watch my favorite show if they will make the baby be close to death on my screen

[artemis-73]

Suptober Day 11: Myth

Dean's always hated hospitals. The smell, the sterile walls, the somber atmosphere, the twisting, scraping dread in his gut. But more than hospitals, he hates the pediatrics wing. He hates the tableaus painted in the hallways. He hates the cartoons playing on the TV. He hates the tiny beds and the blankets with stars and moons on them.

He's standing at the window, staring out at the parking garage when the the doctor comes in. Sam and Jess greet him quietly, but Dean can't bring himself to look. He can tell by the warble in Sam's voice that it's not going to be good news. He can imagine the doctor's face set grimly with a sympathetic twist.

There's a murmured explanation that Dean doesn't try to parse, but he gets snippets. Things like "experimental treatments" and "numbers are still low."

Dean remembers his dad, stark raving mad after their mom died, becoming obsessed with a magical way to fix it. The fix changed day-to-day, depending on how much he'd been drinking. Some days, he was looking for a way to bring her back to life. Others, he wanted revenge on any one of the laundry list of people he blamed for her death: the firefighters, the paramedics, the man who installed their smoke detectors, the electrician who wired the house years before they bought it.

When he turns around and sees little Mary curled up in a mountain of blankets, sounds asleep with dark circles like bruises under her eyes, and half a dozen machines hooked up to her, he understands his old man better than he ever did when he was alive. He'd tear the whole world apart for his niece.

Sam and Jess are looking over the information packets the doctor left, talking about their options and what they could even begin to afford, what their insurance will bother covering.

"I'm gonna go for a drive," he says to the room.

They barely look up when he leaves.

It's late enough in the day that the parking garage is only about half full. The Impala sits alone in one of the corners. In the trunk, there's a box of their dad's things. Stuff Dean can't bear to throw out but doesn't want in his own house, worthless knick knacks and sentimental shit, but most importantly: a journal.

It's the ramblings of a paranoid, possibly schizophrenic man. Dean tried reading it once, right after John died, hoping for some closure. All he found was that his father was sicker than they ever dreamed. He'd imagined a world of demons and monsters to cope with the death of his wife. He'd abandoned his kids over and over again to chase something that would make a deal with him: his life for his wife's.

Dean flips to the last entry. It's from the day John died. It's a rambling whiskey-riddled mess that amounts to blubbering apologies about how he should've been a better father. When Dean first read it, he'd barely skimmed it. Now, he trudges through the lines of slanting writing, looking for any clue.

On the third page, he finds it: a passing mention of a deal he made a two years before. Dean flips back through the pages, skipping over the years until he finds the entry:

It worked. The black eyed bastard couldn't bring her back. He said she was in heaven. I only got two years out of the deal, but he agreed to clean up whoever was responsible.

From there, he reads backwards carefully, looking for what exactly John did. Only a couple pages further, he finds honest-to-god instructions, including an ingredient list, to summon a fucking demon at a crossroads. It says he'll get ten years to live in exchange for whatever he wants. He stands in the parking garage for a long time, looking down at John's clear, blocky writing.

There's a little tin jar that used to sit in John's kitchen. Dean thinks he remembers it even further back, in the kitchen of their family home. It was one of the few things John had salvaged after the fire. When he'd cleared out John's apartment, Dean hadn't even looked in it before throwing it in the box. Now, he pops it open and stares at what's inside: a layer of dirt, a tiny bone, and a singed photo of John.

He feels insane for even considering it. John was sick. Whatever delusion he lived through can't possibly help Dean or Mary.

But if it's not real, then it can't hurt either.

It takes longer than he expected to find a dirt crossroads. He's in the middle of nowhere, and the sun has completely set. It'd be creepy on a good day. Knowing he's trying to summon a demon, though? He's downright spooked.

He replaces John's photo with his driver's license--he doesn't have the patience to go home for a different picture--and digs in the packed dirt with his bare hands. It cakes deep under his fingernails and turns his hands dark. Once he's patted it smooth again, he stands back and waits.

For thirty seconds then a minute then two minutes.

The disappointment is a sucker punch. "So stupid," he mutters to himself.

"Dean Winchester," a gravelly voice says from behind him.

He spins around, heart hammering, to find a man lounging on the hood of the Impala. He's in a suit that doesn't seem to fit quite right, and his tie's crooked and flipped the wrong way. His eyes are piercingly pale. Dean can't tell the color in the moonlight, but he'd guess they're blue, not at all what he expected from a "black-eyed bastard."

But most importantly: he's sprawled on the hood of the Impala.

"Dude, not on my car," he whines.

The man--demon?--laughs. Honest to god, throws his head back and laughs up at the sky. Obligingly, he slides off the car and onto his own two feet. "My apologies."

"Wait," Dean says, finally catching up to what the guy had actually said, "how do you know my name?"

"Your father was quite a character." There's a bite to his words that raises Dean's hackles. "Very demanding, very ungrateful."

"Yeah, well, from where I'm standing, it looks like you shorted him eight years."

"He asked for too much."

"And you were more than happy to deliver."

Any trace of amusement is gone from the demon. He cocks his head and grinds his jaw, and Dean wonders if crossroad demons can kill the people who summon them to make deals.

Finally, the demon asks, "Is this some kind of belated revenge mission? I thought you'd be thanking me, frankly."

"Thanking you for killing my dad?" Dean huffs. Something about the guy presses all his buttons.

"I didn't kill anyone-- Well, that's not true. I didn't kill him. Besides, he wasn't exactly father of the year, now was he?"

Dean doesn't have a response to that, and it's clear the demon knows he's won this round. He smiles faintly then holds out a hand. "I'm Castiel."

Dean's not sure on the protocol with crossroads deals. He doesn't want to accidentally make a deal before he gets to the main event.

Castiel rolls his eyes. "It's just a handshake. Then we can start talking about why you actually summoned me."

Against his better judgement, Dean shakes his hand. It feels like a normal, human hand, which might actually be weirder. He yanks his hand away.

"My niece is sick. Leukemia. And she's getting sicker. Last round of treatments didn't do shit, and I--" He shies away from Castiel's intense, unwavering gaze. "Fix her. That's all I want."

Castiel clicks his tongue. "Simple enough. Ten years for your niece's clean bill of health." He almost sounds disappointed. "Did John mention how we seal deals?"

Dean hesitates, racking his brain. "Uh, no?"

Castiel's eyes flash black, which should knock Dean on his ass. Instead, weirdly, he thinks the look suits him.

"A kiss."

Now that almost lays him out. "Like on the mouth?"

Castiel's eyes flash back to their pale, human version, and he laughs again, this time a low chuckle, like he's hearing an old, familiar joke. "Yes, on the mouth."

"Couldn't just be a handshake," Dean grumbles, but he steps closer anyway. He's had his fair share of awkward, passionless kisses, and none of those ended with Mary getting to have a normal childhood.

Castiel wraps a hand around the nape of Dean's neck and holds him in place. Even though the touch is light, power radiates from it. With barely a thought, Castiel could snap his neck. Hell, he could probably do it without even touching him. (Demon's have psychic powers, right?)

Oh. His eyes are blue. The thought has barely come to him before those eyes flash black again, and he's being kissed. He expected a perfunctory peck. Instead, fire licks against his lips, flares across his skin. His fingers are in Castiel's hair, and his back's pressed against the Impala, and he's not sure when either of those things happened.

Castiel is a firm, hot pressure searing against his front, and Dean wants to pull him even closer. He wants to wrap himself in his warmth and never come back out.

Castiel is the one to pull away first. His hand holds Dean's jaw in place so that he can't chase after him. Dean gets the feeling that it's not the first time Castiel has tried to pull away to speak. His eyes are still black, and Dean's close enough to see himself in the reflection.

"Interesting," Castiel practically pants. He steps back and smooths his suit like it wasn't already a rumpled mess. "I'll be seeing you, Dean."

Between one blink and the next, he's gone. Dean sags against the Impala. I'll be seeing you, Dean. It didn't sound like he meant he'd see him in a decade when he came to collect on his debt. No, Dean had a feeling he'd be visited by Castiel much, much sooner.

"I'm fucked."

[davycoquette]

piteous and perpetual moan

A teenage Appalachian runs away from home after getting into trouble.

Aren’t you a sad sight?

You don’t have anyplace to go, so you ride the shuttle into Asheville, where you’ll get on a real bus then head someplace else. There’s a folded map in your pocket and a bruise around your right eye. Your skinny arms fold across your belly because it hurts, and your elbows and knees and the joints in your fingers do, too.

By your estimation, you don’t have much time left.

An intermittent fever kept you longer in Clyde than you wanted, then you started pissing sweet tea amber. There’s no question where it came from, whatever it is, but it’s not like there’s money to see a doctor. Sure, you could go home, but your momma can’t afford it, either, and what if it comes out how you got sick in the first place? And what you did about it? The only option is to run off and die. This is what old dogs do. This must be how they guard their dignity, because dying is an awful vulnerable thing.

Reverend Brown would say you oughta repent before the mighty angels in flaming fire take vengeance on you. Then you won’t burn in hell after this body dies. You don’t, though, because even though you figure you’re dying, mortality is still incomprehensible to a fourteen year old boy. It was your brother who always seemed he was at death’s door. If your momma would’ve said one morning, “Oh, look, Ryan’s died in his sleep,” probably nobody would be surprised. He sure had it rough, bless his heart. Funny how he’s gonna grow up, and you won’t. You never thought you’d be the one jealous of him.

The shuttle’s not the place for redemption, anyway.

A few bills burn a hole in your pocket and your resolve. You never wanted to spend so bad in your life. His blood’s seeped into the corner of the ten. It’s seeped into the cracks in the concrete and into the drainage ditch and deep in the earth where it can permeate all things that walk or dig or grow.

How are you supposed to sleep at night?

You figure you’re not.

@saturnine-saturneight coyotebackstabby taggy! & everything taggy for @fortunatetragedy

[legally-distinct-corpse]

"chilchuck is that one 'she is 10000-year-old dragon' trope but he is guy so no one ever think it is weird" "people who thirst over him is a pedo" Do. You. Even. Read. The. Manga.

[wiretism]

RABBIT HUNTING SEASON!!! HALLOWEEN EDITION!!

Woo I'm so happy to finally finish this!! AUGH!!

GO RABBIT HUNTERS GO!!! GO READ The Time Travelers Bear BY @puhpandas RIGHT NEOW!!! YOU WONT REGRET IT!!!

[bk-179]

I am very tired so this is bad but. Gingerbrave with prey animal symbolism is very potent actually and we should use it more

[zorosdimples]

Miss Kae! What is your opinion on Foul Legacy & Piss/Cum kink, pls? 🎤

aside from its obvious physical differences, childe’s foul legacy form is far more primal and predatory than his human form; he’s straightforward, impatient, and aggressive. usually, he uses the form as a sort of precursory punishment—a reminder that he can truly be frightening if he wants to be. he could kill you with a flick of one of his claws if he wanted to (though that wouldn’t be any fun, finishing you without a fight).

his foul legacy form is concerned with marking and ownership. he needs everyone—you, first and foremost—to know exactly who you belong to. he likes to piss inside of you after stuffing you so fully that your tummy bulges and your ass is soaked in a pool of seed. he likes to fill you even further with his piss, to see how much you can hold, to enjoy the warm, creamy hug of your walls while he releases all he can inside of you. it’s intimate in a twisted way, but even more than that, it’s an act of possession. it’s a tangible reminder that you are his, wholly, to do with as he pleases. his fluids belong nowhere else but snugly inside of your precious cunt.