#working on cov today and I’m in my feels

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

FLIGHT OF THE WARBLER (XIII)

|| COV MASTERLIST || NEXT: CHAPTER XIV ||

PAIRING: Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick x F!Reader

WORDCOUNT: 8.0K

WARNINGS: Blood, wounds, angst, mentions of guns & weapons, gore mentions, talks about shootings, tension, suggestive actions, sickness, vomit, etc.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

In the last week that you had him, Kyle Garrick had proved to be something that couldn’t be attributed to the memories you held of that day. This realization had been brewing for a long time—ever since he’d followed you in that car as you defiantly shoved your way over the landscape of this very base. It wasn’t something you’d call conventional; it wasn’t, and in the end, you couldn’t be. 

That isn’t to say you’d forget. 

Your father was a large part of your life, and even now, you have trouble separating your perception of him from what you’ve learned and accepted. You know they’re the same person—you know—but the mind plays tricks on the body, and sometimes when you wake up in the middle of the night, you like to go along with the trick that he’d be down in his office, working on all those inventory logs. You know he’s not.

The only thing that really helped the ache was the very man who’d been in the room that day. 

“You’re going to run me into a wall,” you comment dryly as the wheelchair rolls along the tiled floors. 

“I am not,” Kyle says, a smirk evident in his tone. “You just like complaining, Love.”

Your eyes turn in your head and you look over your shoulder as military personnel walk past, sending glances at the SAS Sergeant and the woman he pushes safely under him. You wear more comfortable clothes today—a borrowed T-shirt and cargo pants.

“Where are you taking me, anyways?” The pain in your wound had only increased on the second day of consciousness came along; all of that skin piecing itself together one cell at a time. The meds had helped somewhat, but the injury itself produced a pulse of heat and tightness. 

Brown eyes glance down, brow quirking. “Not fond of surprises, then?”

“Not when they’re from you,” you grumble under your breath sarcastically, turning back around. 

Kyle’s smooth laugh makes your face gain a sheen of warmth, and you try to push back against the onslaught of hands that suddenly ghost your skin. You shift in the wheelchair and silently frown. 

“I should be offended,” the man begins, taking a slow turn left, “but I’ve found I’m getting used to your jabs.” His comment goes in one ear and slides out the other, passing through the eye of your confused thoughts. “In fact, I find them enjoyable.” 

You huff, bringing yourself back to reality as your lips quirk. 

“Yeah, okay—” Your body bends forward with a ragged cough, hand snapping up to cover your mouth as your spine curves. 

Kyle stops the wheelchair, looking in surprise before his arm comes to sit on the back of your shoulder blade, one foot moving him closer. Concern immediately grows in his chest.

“Spitfire?” You wave your free hand, continuing on for a few more seconds before your aching lungs take a deep inhale. Clearing your throat, you blink a few times to push away the blurriness of your vision and move back. 

“I’m good,” your lips mutter. You clear your throat again. “Sorry.”

Kyle blinks. 

“No need to apologize.” He glances you over softly as his hand leaves you. “Feeling alright, then?” 

You nod after a moment, the man only hesitates a second before he grips the handles behind you and begins pushing again. A small silence falls between you two, and you brush a hand over your eyes as you feel those brown eyes staring into the back of your head. 

“...I ever tell you about my time with RTI testing?” The comment makes you pause, brows pulling in as you look over your shoulder again. 

“What’s that?” He smiles, nodding at you as he carts you around.

“Resistance To Interrogation.” Your interest gets jump-started, and you continue to watch him as Kyle’s eyes filter back and forth from the hallway to you. The surroundings swirl together as your focus is grabbed. 

“No, you haven’t.” Gaz hums, shrugging. 

“Want to?” 

“Well, you already started talking about it,” you slide him a sly look. 

He chuckles, tilting his head. “Got me there.” The Brit gathers his thoughts in front of you, eyebrows quirking for a moment. He moves his eyes back down to your own, and they lock for a minute—something flashes over his expression, but it’s lost before you can understand it.

“We were a group of ten,” he begins, “my class and I, yeah? All proper blokes.” The wheelchair squeaks slightly as it moves, but it barely annoys you. Kyle’s stories take precedence. “They had us separated—different rooms all over a test sight.”

“Let me guess,” you say, “it was horrible?”

“Bloody horrendous.” You both share amused looks. “You’d think they left that place abandoned for a decade, Spitfire,” Kyle speaks lower as if in secret. “Swear it was haunted.”

“As if,” you laugh, shaking your head and ignoring the muttered words from passing soldiers. 

“I’m not joking,” Gaz says, smiling easily. “No, they made it that way—simulate an actual scenario.” He smirks, teasing. “As I was saying,” you pass door after door, and you’re none the wiser as to where he’s taking you as the minutes grow longer. “Interrogation. So, they had me in a room; tiny one. All of a sudden as I’m working on the bindings, big fellow comes through the door…”

You know what he’s trying to do. 

Trying to make you laugh—smile. He wants you to forget about everything, even if for a little bit. There was no real destination he was taking you to; you’d passed this same door number two times now. He was just…talking to you. Because he wanted to.

You’d never felt as thankful to have someone to do that with than now. 

The story ends as you expected it would, a full success on the Sergeant's part and a final comment of, “You wanna know what I learned? No one can break me, but me.” More and more tales go past as you joke and tease, growing more comfortable as every one waxes and wanes. You even shared some of your own. 

“You wrecked it?” Kyle blinks in shock, laughing in disbelief. 

“I wrecked it,” you reiterate. “But it wasn’t my fault! The dude pulled out in front of me.” Talking about how you had been driving your friend's car near the middle of high school—having gotten into a minor car crash while you never even had your permit. 

“Bloody hell, what did you do?”

“Switched seats with my friend.” You’re excited. You find you don’t mind the feeling. Everything about videos and stolen goods is lost to the two of you—here, now, the only thing that was appeasing was the sound of one another’s voices. A sway and dip of syllables and accents. A push and pull that now felt more like a tug at a sleeve; gentle hands slipping over flesh. 

More than once your body had wished for the man to touch you. More than once you had to stop yourself from getting sidetracked by the smooth roll of his chuckle. 

More than once, Kyle had to do the same. 

“That worked?” The Sergeant breathes, eyes darting away from yours softly before slinking back like a horse to water. His face was hot, and he’d lost track of the time—even his feet were moving on autopilot.

“You’d be surprised,” you stifle a fond chuff on your lips. “You want to hear the one where I snuck onto a train heading into Michigan?”

He looks at you and you can’t help but feel your face heat as you gaze over your shoulder. 

“You’re trouble, you are.” The comment leaves you smiling widely. 

“Did you expect anything different? My father got a rise out of me,” you laugh. “All he’d do was laugh and ask how my day went while my mother fumed from the foyer.” 

“My mum would have a field day,” Kyle adds. “You make it that far?”

“No,” you shake your head a few times, speaking through crinkled lids. “No, I felt bad halfway through the ride and got off at the next station—found the train back and that was that.”  

The Sergeant’s amusement is obvious. You don’t even realize it’s the first time you’ve mentioned your family without feeling that wash of sadness afterward. 

A calm pause moves along the space, and soon after the man gives you a soft question.

“Leg still good?” Brown eyes look you up and down. “I can stop if you want.” 

Blinking, you’d almost forgotten the bullet wound in your thigh, glancing down at it. Small aches travel up your spine when the limb shakes with the pace of the chair. 

You think about lying. 

Talk to me.

But what could one truth hurt?

“Maybe for just a few minutes.” You don’t turn to see the slow smile that peels Kyle’s lips, but as if a sixth sense, you can feel it. 

“Want to go back to your room?”

“No,” you shake your head in thought. A line forms on your head as you shift to ask him. “Any nice places around here?”

You were starting to notice things you hadn’t before—or maybe you had seen them, and just hadn’t been paying attention. Kyle’s smile moved the scars on his cheek, pushing them tight, and when he looked at you, he gave you all of his attention. When he stopped and started walking, it was always with his right foot. At every noise, even if he wasn’t paying it any attention, his head would slightly tilt in that direction.

Everything has become a metaphor, and all you can do is experience it. 

“Not many,” the man admits, brows furrowing as he stares off. A moment later he looks back down with a dog-like angle to his head. “Library?” 

Your soft smile gives him all the answers he needs.

—

This strange comfort went on for the days remaining, yourself being none the wiser while the guilt on the soldier’s side persisted. How could he tell you? There wasn’t a thought in his mind that he wouldn’t tell you what was going on—that wasn’t who he was. He would never up and disappear without a goodbye, but even thinking about it rubbed him the wrong way. 

Who was to say you would take to the next person who gets put in charge of you? It had taken months for Kyle—whoever else would be flayed on a stake at the first appearance of your wrath. For everyone's sake, the Sergeant hopes it will at least be Alex. 

There might be some hope for him, at least.

But the overarching truth was that he didn’t want to leave you here. He didn’t want to go thousands of miles away and join the others…even if he knew he had to. 

His duty, or his soul. He can’t do one without hurting the other. And he knows he has no choice but to join back with One-Four-One. 

On the third day, you got sick. 

Your body lay heaped over the toilet, a trail of vomit and blood leading into the bathroom that a nurse is hurriedly cleaning with a mop and spraying down with disinfectant. The smell of it only makes you retch more.

“Breathe,” Gaz utters beside you, hand rubbing circles on your back. 

Your head spins; throat on fire. Everything you’d eaten today comes up until there’s only acid and regrets. 

“Ow,” you say through saliva, eyes stinging. Your spine shakes and you dry heave, choking on air. 

Kyle’s lips thin tightly to his face, glancing out of the bathroom door as a patient guard would. His fingers at your back give a little more pressure—the tips digging to give you something to focus on. 

The nurse leaves on fast feet. 

“How are we feeling, then?” You’re asked as your eyes clench tight, your abdomen tense and the muscles shaky like a series of rivers under the skin. “Take your time, Love.”

“Like shit, Garrick,” Your head turns with a weak glare, bags formed under your eyes from a restless sleep last night. No matter how hard you tried to get comfortable, pain had been stirring in your chest—different from the one in your thigh and the ache of the now-healed mark on your palm. It was like a dull droning; a precursor. 

Coughing, you groan and dip your head away, a hand coming up and slapping the handle to make the bile swirl and disappear down the pipes. Kyle sighs under his breath, watching. 

“C’mon, let’s get you to bed.” You resist the inner voice wanting to tell him to keep rubbing your back, only commenting on brushing your teeth beforehand, which you do with the ever-present shadow behind you in case you might fall over. 

Back in the sheets, Gaz grabs another blanket from the other side of the room and brings it over—spreading it over your body until a toasty feeling overtakes the headache that emanates from behind your eyes. 

“M’gonna lose my mind,” your words slur. “This is worse than getting shot.”

“It is not,” Kyle mutters, a small smile on his face. “You just got a stomach bug. Could be from the meds—wouldn’t be the first I've heard of it.” 

He packs the blanket firmer around you and huffs as he moves into his chair, leaning back. Not once do his eyes leave you as your body shifts and curls—moving to face him. 

“This where you read me a bedtime story?”

Kyle smirks, looking away. 

“A long time ago, in a—”

“Shut up.” He laughs and moves a hand out as you restrain a wide smile, one you had to fight hard to keep hidden as your mouth dips under the blanket. 

Kyle chuckles before shaking his head. “But, seriously, do you remember what you ate today?”

“Nothing besides what was handed to me,” you sigh, moving a hand to your head to feel your skin. “A few more shitty coffees.”

“Let me.” Gaz moves and gently pushes your own aside before his limb flattens over your forehead. Your eyelids momentarily move down at the action, but you allow it to continue. At the gentle way he slips his skin over yours, you nearly purr. 

“Hm,” the man leaves and your eyes follow. “Bit hot.” Kyle’s eyes study you. “Your wound isn’t infected, I know that. Just proper bad timing on your part, Spitfire.”

You rub at your eyes. The comment slips out before you can care to stop it.

“Do you think you can stay here tonight?” Brown orbs widen, and the whites, for a sliver of a second, become more visible. 

Your face blazes, embarrassment shifting the lines of your face—expression twisting back up at the lapse in speech that suffocates like a rope. 

“I don’t mean it like…” Your tongue bites at itself, throat clearing as your eyes dart away from blank brown bulbs. “Just, I know my mother comes to visit before I fall asleep, but I don’t want to risk…” 

Nerves make your jaw slam shut like a lock to a hatch. “Forget it—”

“I’ll stay.” 

Eyes lock. Kyle blinked as if he wasn’t conscious enough to know he answered until it was already said. The Sergeant’s hands go up to fix his cap, licking his lips and taping his foot to the floor. He reiterates after a shocked moment. 

“I’ll stay, Love.” After all, this was the only form he’d be able to. “It’s not a problem.”

Your heart constricts, fingers twitching for your coin that’s still back at the mansion. The words leave your tone breathless. “Okay.” 

So that’s how the Sergeant, who prided himself on his high tolerance and tactical awareness, found himself utterly void of all sense. He sat there, idly on his phone and sending glances as the minutes passed—growing longer. The single lamp is the only light to stay on, sitting on the far table with its warm glow. 

When you do fall asleep, mind and body tired, Kyle’s hand reaches over and pulls the blanket farther over you, sighing softly. It’s only after he leans back that he speaks, almost to himself.

“I’ll be here,” he whispers, guilt filling up his eyes like a glass of water. “But I can’t be forever.”

A creak at the door makes his spine straighten, head whipping over and hand unconsciously jerking to where a sidearm would be strapped to his thigh. 

But it’s only your mother. 

“It’s Kyle,” she whispers, glancing at your sleeping body with a glass of water in her hands, “right?” 

“Ah,” the man speaks low, sending a look your way before standing. “Yes, Ma’am. Kyle Garrick.”

“Sorry.” Coming into the room, the glass is set on the bedside table, liquid sloshing over the brim. “I’m horrible with names, that was always my husband’s specialty.” Kyle shares a polite smile as she puts a hand on his arm. “I always had to write them down to keep it all straight—I’m more organized than a filing cabinet.”

“Aren’t you a nurse, Ma’am?” He chuckles, one eye watching you breathe softly; that gentle rise and fall of your chest. 

You looked calm like this. 

Beautiful, even.

Kyle’s thoughts make him blink quickly, fighting to put his full attention on your mother as she speaks to him. 

“What do you think the patient sheets are for?” They share a good few chuffs at that, the Sergeant’s hands going to cross his chest. 

“You know, young man,” your mother utters, looking at you as something swirls behind her eyes. “You’ve really done a fantastic job with her. Truly. Her father…well…” she trails and Gaz’s chest has a concrete block on it.

He knew that the older woman didn’t know the full story, or else she wouldn’t be telling him this. 

“...he would be thankful, I know he would. He loved that girl more than anyone in the world.” A tiny sigh. “She just…fell apart when he passed, you understand.” A wave of a hand moves in the tight vision of those brown eyes. “We don’t speak about it.” 

Maybe you should have. A cut of resentment makes itself known. How much you’d suffered. How much the solitude had left you a shell of someone who was just coming out again—a clock needing a new battery. 

“Spitfire’s strong,” Kyle says, shifting his feet. His face is firm. “Far stronger than most.” 

“I don’t doubt it,” is the response. “Everything that’s been attempted, and here she is.” A little look is sent his way, paired with an inquisitive nod. “Do you care about her, or only the job?”

“Her,” the answer is immediate. “Bloody job isn’t even half of it, Ma’am, you have my word on that.” 

Those eyes watch him for a moment, digging in a way far sharper than Kyle could have anticipated. But woe to the man who gets in between a mother and her daughter. 

“Good.” Your mother moves, going to kiss you on the head and slip past Kyle. “Make sure she drinks her water when she wakes up,” the man watches as she exits the doorway. Her hand sits on the frame as the last bit of advice fades into the hallway before the door closes with a soft click. “She needs to keep hydrated.”

The guard resumes his midnight shift, but he was correct with his previous assessment. 

You did look beautiful, and perhaps he’d just now begun to see it. 

—

Alex wasn’t bad, truthfully. He had that same charm to him that Gaz possessed like a proud poster boy—the main model with the blond Agent soon after on the first page, blue eyes over the top of the text. He didn’t seem to take your prior muteness to him to heart, in fact, when you apologized for it out of your own free will, he’d only smiled and tilted his head in your direction softly. 

“No need to apologize, Ma’am. I’ve had worse welcomes, trust me. A cold shoulder is the least of my worries.” 

You found yourself actually liking the man, as strange as that sounded in the recesses of your skull. But there are worse things than talking to someone who actually answers back. 

“China?” He stares at you from the side of his eye, Kyle sighing from across the space of the rec room. You sit back on the couch, a forgotten book in hand. “You sure?” 

“Chiyou is a Chinese deity—a company coming out of there with the same name would make the most logical sense, don’t you think?” You shrug. “It’s also a country that’s in the middle of Laos and Russia besides Mongolia; hate to break it to you, but I don’t think Mongolia has a port to send goods from. Executions,” you tilt your head, “sure. Ships? No.” 

“Can we be sure that those are the same thing?” Kyle speaks up from this dark conversation. “Drugs and weapons are two linked businesses, but getting directly involved in hits isn’t usually how those types of things go.”

“I’d have to agree,” Alex sighs. Your mother was out helping in the medical ward due to her knowledge of medicine—there was no need for Keller to follow her around with so many reliable eyes on her. For the moment, he’d been relieved to do as he wished. “Not exactly how cells operate unless something happened to make ‘em change their main sources of income. But it isn’t unheard of. So the laptop was entirely those videos?” Blue eyes move back and forth, the Agent’s arms crossed as he reclines into his seat next to the card table. “Nothing else?”

“Didn’t have time to look.” Gaz grunts. “Someone took it out from right under our noses.” 

An eerie silence settles, and you try not to think too hard about it. 

“The best bet for answers is the guy I shot,” you speak after a moment. Two pairs of eyes with different hues share a fast look as you itch at the back of your neck. “He knew Samson, that has to count.” Your voice slips to a mutter. “He knows something we don’t.”

“You feeling any better today, Love?” Gaz changes the subject. You look up, brow furrowing in confusion. 

“Not really, why?” You can’t stand up fast unless you want to black out, and this morning it hadn’t taken long for you to grow sick after trying to take down food your mother brought you. The nurses were at a loss with what to do, seeing as besides a fever, there wasn’t anything wrong with you. 

It was only after your own heated insistence that Kyle had helped you into the wheelchair that sits next to the couch currently, concerned that if you walked, you would fall unconscious. 

Brown eyes watch you now, face stiff. “Just wondering.” 

You blink at him, trying to speak through your eyes. The man shrugs, tilting his head away. 

Alex looks between the two of you, mustache twitching as he eases out casually in reference to your mother, “She’ll be getting off soon. I’ll leave you both here to think over the details.”

“Right,” Kyle utters, prying his eyes away from you. “Be seeing you, Alex.”

“Call me if you need me,” the Agent comments, patting your shoulder as he slips past, giving over a kind smile. “Get better soon, Doll.” 

You hum as he leaves, closing the door behind him. 

Lips start moving at the same time.

“I need to go back home—”

“I’m getting sent back to One-Four-One—”

Wide eyes meet and lock with quick breaths. 

“What?” Your face twists in, again your voice building over Kyle’s instant refusal of your proposal.

“Not a chance.” 

“Whoah, whoah, back the hell up.” You raise your hands, splaying them out—the man shakes his head, a hand coming to itch at his facial scar. “You’re leaving?”

“I’m not letting you go back to the mansion.”

“Kyle!” You bark so loudly that your eyes gain dancing black dots. “What the fuck?” 

“It wasn’t my plan,” he breathes, avoiding your gaze. “I wasn’t thinking clearly when I sent in the reassignment form—Laswell had me placed back with them faster than I could remember to take it back.”

Your face is devoid of blood, your jaw loose, and your gut sinking inside your abdomen like a fishing line had it connected to your ankle. More than once your mouth opened and closed in shock—in betrayal. 

Leaving? He was leaving you here?

“I don’t…” Your words trail off, throat closing. A pain sparks in your heart.

Kyle’s face screws up, jaw clenching as he stands up, walking over. “Believe me, Spitfire, when I say I had every intention of taking it back before this blew up.”

Hands capture the sides of your arms, grabbing at them as he kneels down to the floor in front of where you sit.

“I’m sorry,” Kyle says slowly and sincerely—staring deeply into your eyes as you struggle to keep the contact. “I’ve been beating myself up over it for days now. I…” he pauses. “I was waiting for a good time to tell you, but it just came out. Please, understand.” 

Your eyes slip away, lips thin and skin pulled. 

Kyle’s muscles are wound, nervous about what this could do and how you would take it. In reality, this last week might be the last chance he’ll get to try and fix what he’s done. 

“Spitfire,” he implores gently, hands squeezing you. “Say something. Anything.” 

Your eyes flicker back, face lost. How fast you could go from hating this man to relying on him. “Are…you coming back?”

Kyle’s breath is a shaky exhale. “I…”

He doesn’t know. He can’t answer that.

“When do you leave?” You grow more upset at his silence. Panicked even. How dare he come here and do this to you after all of it? Your heart is pounding, veins bulging with blood that rampages with fast aggression. 

“Soon.” The Sergeant clears his throat. “I’m sorry. I know whatever I say won’t make it any better.” He repeats his apology. “It’s my own fault, and I can’t take it back.”

You don’t know what overtakes you, but before you can stop your limbs, you’ve already snapped your arms around his neck, dragging him into your body. The man, while shocked, goes willingly—returning the embrace tightly. 

His hands curl, cruel warmth overtaking you as Gaz sets his head on your shoulder and lets your head burrow into his neck. A weak exhale leaves your sputtering lungs, and the marks on your palm burn like the space behind your eyes. 

Leaving? No, he can’t leave you here.

Hurt melts with sickness, encased in a film of fear. Fear. He can’t do this. No, not now. Not now. 

Not now that you care about him. 

“I hate you,” you force out, voice warbling. Maybe you were always just a fool. “I hate you, Kyle Garrick.”

“I know,” he breathes, not letting you go—pulling you tighter to his chest as your air caresses his neck like a sea storm; clouds of ice and a sky of fire, the boat battered by ardent winds. “I know. I’m sorry.” 

Words only mean so much, but they help when they’re uttered into the skin of your temple—the British accent rolling off his tongue. 

“I’m sorry.” 

He holds you for a long while, and by the end of it, you say in a hard tone, “I’m going home and grabbing what I need.” 

The man lets his eyelids flutter closed. 

“Okay.”

So that was how on the last day he was here, Kyle brought you breakfast, and soon after you’d finished the plate, not expelling it all to your own surprise, you were both off with an escort squad headed by the Sergeant. You were able to rely on a cane for the time being, feeling better even if the news had your mind in a worse way than it had been previously. 

Your mother had been against it—vehemently. 

“There’s no reason for you to go back,” she had said. “You’re going to get yourself hurt!” 

But it was apparent as the car moved through the blackened gates, which had been busted off their hinges, that the house had been utterly abandoned. Kyle had explained that the group from the town—Firebird, as you recall—had been watching over it and seen no one enter or exit. 

“Are you sure?” The Sergeant was in full gear, sitting in the back with you as the car ambled along up the driveway. 

You don’t look at him. “I’ll be quick.” 

Kyle shifts, the assault rifle over his chest and hat on his head. His eyes were hidden by sunglasses even if you can still feel them on you as the time lengthens. The wheels pull to a stop, and the driver comments that they’re parked and all ready to exit. 

“Sweep the perimeter,” Garrick explains, clicking into his comm line. A volley of copies wafts out like a flock of birds on the wind, and out of the window, you watch the overgrown hedges sway with their dying leaves. Autumn was here, now, and you could feel it in your bones. 

“I can go in and grab what you need—”

“Kyle,” you sigh, shifting to gaze into the reflection of your own visage in his glasses. He frowns delicately. “Please.”

“Just concerned, Love.” He explains.

“I know you are,” you can’t help a flicker of a smile, skin crinkling. “Worse than my mother.” 

“Well,” he smirks, “now that’s an achievement. I get a medal for that?”

“And what medal would you want?” You play along, quirking a brow. It was easy to forget he was leaving when he talked so casually to you. “Unfortunately, I don’t have one that says ‘idiot’ on the plaque.” You liked how his lips moved when he spoke—his fingers twitching over the body of his gun like he was always so deep in thought to control them. His shifting feet. Kyle’s easy air. 

That stupid, bloody, hat. 

“Oh yeah? What else are you going to give me, then?” The Sergeant mirrors you with a raised brow, neck bending, and a wide upward motion to his lips. The tone is a flowing tease that leaves your body tingling, and your legs moving closer to one another.

At a shocked pause, a certain electricity enters the air. Kyle rubs at the back of his neck softly, and the sound of his skin is almost enough for you to shift closer. Blinking, you realize you’d been staring at his lips far too intensely—blind to the fact he’d been doing the same.

“The ability to keep your sanity,” you deadpan, rolling your shoulders as the ache in your wound is dull. “Don’t thank me.”

“Can’t complain about that one.” Kyle shifts his thighs on the seats as he mutters. Soon after the radio opens with a soldier giving the all-clear and you grab the cane from the floor with a huff as Gaz’s door opens and closes.

Hand moving to the handle after you’re situated, the barrier opens to the Sergeant on the other side, his vest strapped to his chest. Kyle smiles teasingly as he reaches out, fingers loose.

“Ma’am,” you roll your eyes but slip your limb into his, the gloves he wears rough against your flesh. 

Muttering as your feet carefully settle to the ground, you look up into his face sarcastically, “Such a gentleman.”

“Well, thank you,” he winks, stubble moving. But he slips back into a sheen of seriousness easily. “Slowly, now.”

You huff, already off to the door—also busted open with yellow tape around the front. The stitches in your thigh pull, but it isn’t something that will make you slow down. You’re here to grab what you need—your jacket, your coin. Answers. 

Shifting the tape away, you move into the foyer, soldiers milling around and talking to one another over the radio. Like ants, they shuffle, moving from one point to another in case of any attack from the phantoms in the air. 

It becomes harder to imagine a family living here. 

Eyes slip over the bloodstains, over the ruined hardwood, and the remains of family history. No amount of money could get the shattered remnants of a childhood back. 

“You don’t have to do this,” Gaz whispers to you, standing as a sentinel beside you as he takes his sunglasses off and hangs them off his collar. He can see how this might go. “There’s no shame in leaving, you know that?”

“It’s okay,” you blink away from the pool of crimson in the shape of a man. Brown eyes meet yours, concerned. “You’re here, aren’t you?”

Kyle watches you walk away, his face loose and open before diligently following with a lick of his lips and a downward nod, ordering the two men in the foyer to watch the entrances. His face is hot.

When you’re upstairs, after many exasperated looks from the Sergeant, you wipe the sweat from your brow and move onward to your room. You wondered when you’d grown so used to gore and violence that now the sight of it meant nothing to you, sliding past the large splatters; the holes where Gaz had fired through the door. 

“Here,” you sigh, grabbing your canvas jacket from the bed where it had sat for days on end, balancing on one leg while you put the cane down and push your arms into the article. It doesn’t offer the same comfort it usually does, but it certainly helped. One hand takes back up your aid—the other slips into the pocket, finding that silver disc easily. 

The movement of a shadow makes you pause, looking over. 

Gaz is at your nightstand, and in his hand, he holds a picture. 

You’d forgotten about it, really. Stashed under the gun and hidden away—crumbled up so you wouldn’t have to see the faces printed out on it. You move to stand beside him and explain softly. 

“The day I was born. He had to rush to get to the hospital—he was so frazzled he nearly ran right past the delivery room.” Your dad was holding a small version of you, tears on his cheeks and his face in a wide smile. The hospital background is blurred around the two of you. “He always told that story on my birthday,” you finish, voice nothing but a mutter. 

The house suffocates everything.

Gaz had been watching you the entire time you’d been speaking, your arms brushing periodically.

The Sergeant offers the picture without a word, and you take it, fingers touching as you pause. There isn’t much that can be said about that. Skin to gloved skin, you hold the picture in between you, studying it as if you did, all of your questions would be answered. But the only answer that you know is that the pain of it will never fade—even if you can reduce it to an ache instead. Like the wound in your thigh, it’ll just scar over. 

“When I leave,” Gaz utters, hand moving to capture yours. “I’ll call. Everyday.”

“I doubt that,” your eyes tilt, faces close. “Everyone always says that.”

Firmly, Kyle squeezes your flesh, noses nearly touching.

“Not me,” the words are said so earnestly, there’s no room to deny them. 

You stare into his browns—the only eyes you’ll ever be able to look into fully and for so long, breath caught in your throat. It’s the way they shift; how they darken and lighten with every dip of his eyelids and shift of his dark lashes. He swallows, and you find yourself stuck on that image of his throat bobbing as if in slow motion. Your mouth goes dry as he speaks in a whisper that moves the air in front of your face. He’s closer now, hand holding yours on fire.

“Do you trust me, Spitfire?” 

It’s embarrassing how long it takes you to fully understand what he says, and only after your heavy lips move in the slightest show of speech that you’re stopped.

“We’ve got movement out front. Looks like reporters.”

The both of you jerk back, Kyle taking long steps away and panting as your eyes are wide with shock. Under the skin, twin suns with enough firepower to light galaxies ignite from his and yours’ features, sputtering meaningless words. 

Mouth opening and closing, the Sergeant nearly fractures his wrist bone as he wrenches his hand to his radio, pushing out a quick response of, “Be there soon.” 

He backs up another step as your mind whirls like a storm—good, bad, every thought in between. 

What had just happened? 

“S-,” he rubs a hard hand over his chin. “Stay here.”

And then he’s gone with a flash of gear. 

You don’t know how long you stared at that doorway, hand shaky and still outstretched. The picture in your hand had fallen to the ground moments before, twirling like a leaf. With a violent inhale, your other limb was clenched around the cane so tightly that the knuckles were clearly visible, blood pulsing with intent. 

Where you just about to…No, no that wasn’t what was happening. You shake your head, looking around to distract yourself. No. 

You pick up the picture with some difficulty and put it inside your pocket next to the coin. But it doesn’t stop the flight of your heart. 

Left on the coffee table was your phone, which you take and look at the countless missed calls and texts from Hector—you block his number and limp out of the room across the hall. It’s still damaged, the nightstand on its side and your personal laptop’s shattered screen on the floor. 

That makes you pause. 

Why would only one of the devices turn up missing if the other was still here? Even the man who had tried to steal it didn’t know the correct version. Your lips go thin, head moving around to study the space with a more brightly lit intensity. 

You zero in on the large wardrobe. 

Your blanket was still there, and if you can recall only snippets of what happened, there’s one that sticks out more than the other. You remember kicking the journal with your heel as you had pushed off the ground. Moving as fast as you’re able, you huff weakly as you near the large wooden structure, shifting the blanket aside. 

Nothing. 

“No,” you mutter to yourself, looking at where the wardrobe is held up by its four elegant legs. “Not nothing.” 

Moving one leg so that your knee hits the ground, you grunt and clench your jaw as your stitches pull tightly; letting the other limb follow. Your cane hits the ground with a clatter, but you care little. Going down on your hands and knees, stuck in cobwebs and sitting with some of its pages leaking out, your lock on the form of your father’s journal.

—

The drive back was silent. 

Kyle wouldn’t look at you, sunglasses back on and his fingers still over his service weapon. You didn’t comment, too occupied with the item you keep secret inside of your jacket, stuffed into the lining. 

You hadn’t told him that you’d found it, and to this moment, you still don’t know why you don’t. The thought was perhaps that, since he was leaving, it would be pointless, and on that front maybe you’d be right. This wasn’t his concern, but yours. 

But it was also because of that fact that you’d nearly kissed. 

Kissed. 

Your body is stiff in its seat. 

When you’d met back up with him only seconds after snatching the journal and cleaning off your knees, you’d been told about the reporters outside—journalists and news crews. It cut the visit short to the mansion, and with only a single glimpse of a black cat’s tail among the hedges of the front walkway, strangled amid the flash of cameras, you were back in the car.

There had been some talk about how they had known you were there, but none of it was anything sure.

And now you were trapped back here with him. Kyle. 

Kissed. 

The entire vehicle is suffocating in tension.

You don’t remember how long the ride is, how long it takes for the pounding in your skull to start when you can feel him shifting only a foot away. In your mind, you’re upset, but it’s not for the reason you should be. You can’t stop thinking about his hand on your thigh, pushing and pulling the skin—how he holds you so tightly and breathes into your ear. What was wrong with you? Out of everything he’s done? Him?

You’re not upset that he had tried to kiss you. You’re upset that he stopped.

Sitting in your seat, your gut swirls, an airiness to your brain. 

Without any concept of time beyond the treacherous thought of how his body would feel with its weight on top of yours, the base is already in sight and the car is parked with a silent squeal of the brakes. You snap out of it and ignore how the hair on your arms stands on end, and a low pulse emanates from deep inside of you. 

A tinge of sin to take down like bitter coffee. 

Someone opens your door, but it’s not Kyle. 

You lock eyes with Kate Laswell for three seconds before blinking away, but those three seconds are enough. Your oxygen gets choked up in your throat.

“Kate?” Gaz speaks over you, leaning forward in his seat to look around the barrier that is you. He tries not to linger on the fact that your scent is stuck inside of his nostrils, unable to get out the smell of your flesh. “Problem?”

“Not one that you can solve, Sergeant. You,” she nods her head your way as you go back to staring at her nose, frowning at her sudden arrival. “You’re going to come with me. I have a job for you.” 

“Excuse me?” You sound irritated, even to yourself. 

The woman’s response is quick and firm. “Do you want answers, or not?” That in and of itself renders you as silent as a bug. You didn’t want to admit how much Laswell intimidated you, even all that time back when you’d first officially met. You read her record—it wasn’t thin. Pages upon pages of achievements. “Good, follow me. Quickly.”

“Bit hard on the ‘quickly’ part of it,” you mutter, cane hitting the ground and feet following after. Kyle is swift with his exit on his own side, coming over and reaching out a hand to help. Inches above your skin, he halts with a twitch to his outstretched fingers. 

He takes a slow breath and lets his hand drop, eyes darting away. You don’t comment on it, and even the third member of this emotionally constipated club seems to pick up on something else going on—Laswell’s brow moving a millimeter upwards. 

“What’s this about, Ma’am?” Gaz’s voice is low, his hands up at the collar of his combat vest, trying to act casual. Being near you makes his head light all of a sudden, and it’s only his fault.

Maybe he really did need to leave. For both of you. Whatever had just happened was a massive step over boundaries. 

Kate waves a hand and you follow, eager to put distance between you and Kyle even if it pained you. He stays a good ways away, and the gap isn’t subtle. A pain in your heart joins the one in your thigh—the pressure behind your eyes. 

“Joey Lowe,” the name makes you blink.

“Who,” you ask dryly. 

Kate pushes open the door to the main building. “The man you shot two times. Not bad aim, by the way—internal bleeding and four broken ribs. The surgery took three hours to stop them from puncturing his organs.”

You make a face and Kyle’s confused expression turns to the woman in charge. “What’s he got to do with her? Thought you had him in interrogation.”

“We do,” Laswell is all business, sighing under her breath and guiding the both of you to who knows where. You try to share a glance with Kyle, but he only looks away. “He’s not speaking to us. I took the decision upon myself to find a pressure point.” A pause. 

Kate stops walking and you jerk back, cane slamming to the floor as she pivots and stares deeply into your eyes. You tense and glare into her nose. 

“You.” 

“Me?” You blink wildly. “I’m sorry, are we just forgetting that this dude shot me? You want me in a room with him?”

“Kate,” even Kyle has reservations about this, moving closer in and lowering his voice. “Are you sure this is the best way to go about this?”

“This has already been going on for too long,” the woman says, unbreaking in her conviction. “He won’t speak unless there’s something to push him and we can’t risk him in his current state.”

You don’t want to think about what that last comment implies, but you aren’t entirely opposed to this. Answers were answers, and if it meant this nightmare was over with sooner, you’d do it. Maybe you really were losing your rocker. 

Kyle’s jaw clenches, moving back and straightening his spine. This wasn’t your job, you shouldn’t have to even think about this. 

“Spitfire,” he tries to gain your attention as he sees you in thought, legs shifting him to you. “You don’t have to agree—”

“I’m in.” His heart skips a beat.

“This is bullshit,” Gaz grunts and your eyes widen as they slash over to look into his sunglasses. “You do not have to go through with this, you understand that, yeah? We can get answers another way that doesn't involve civilians.” The last is directed at Kate, who frowns and crosses her arms over her blouse. 

“Any other ways that you suggest we do that, Kyle?” A silence. “If I recall, you’re supposed to be getting ready for take-off. The C-17 is waiting to take you to Russia with supplies for your Task Force.” 

You try to stop the tight inhale, but it slips out like a fish to sea. A head fights itself to not gaze at you. Such dead air settles that you half expect the world to be frozen if not for the occasional soldier that moves past, giving glances over to the tension-ridden group. 

“Kyle?” You ask, voice small. 

He stays well away. “You don’t have to.”

A flare of that stubborn spite gradually fills you back up. The man makes you care about him—nearly kisses you, gives you all of these mixed signals…and then goes cold again? It was rude; cruel. It was…confusing. 

And the best thing you can do when life gets confusing is to cage yourself in. 

“I’m doing it,” you say, voice tiny but sure of itself. Neither of you breathes, and the man pleads with himself to try and fix this before it's too late. Tell you it was a mistake…but was it? Can he lie? 

“...You better get going.” Your mind is made. “You don’t want to miss your flight, Sergeant.” There were a million things that needed to be said—to be spoken about in the long nights and the gentle mornings. But in the minute where both of your eyes could be felt gracing one another’s, brown trapped behind the glare of his glasses and yours, hidden by your own pained will, there wasn’t a word that could be uttered. Not without making things far more harder than they already were. 

“Good luck,” you say, but the ink of the words bleeds.

It’s as if every grand step that this week has taken has been based and reduced down to zero. Kyle opens his mouth to respond, but you’ve already walked past with Laswell, leaving him behind as he stands in the hallway staring at nothing.

He doesn't remember a time when he’d clenched his hands so hard. He doesn't remember a time when he had to restrain his legs from chasing after someone. 

And he certainly doesn't remember a time when he could physically feel his heart break his mind. 

TAGS:

@merkitty49, @mh073099, @littlegaypng, @babybooday, @underrated-youngster, @jupiterredolent, @idocarealot, @petrat97, @jade-jax, @roosterr, @escapefromrealitysm, @kysa32, @human-turtle, @aurora-basin, @terumisworld, @xxfeelmylovexx, @neelehksttr, @nezukos-number1fan, @20forty9, @homicidal-slvt, @emerald-valkyrie, @raissadoesthingslmao, @misfne, @hollyhopesworld, @wasteland-babe, @330bpm-whiplash, @anna-banana27, @sunnynomoar, @doggydale, @thecrispypotatochip @74478328, @blueoorchid, @das-conk-creet-baybee, @chestnutsandcurls, @vamqyr3, @lavalleon, @nebula67, @urfavsunkissedleo

[covid-safer-hotties]

What Exactly Is Long Covid? — ITT Episode 37 - Audio Interview - Published September 11, 2024

Listen at the link!

The millions of people worldwide who are suffering from a vast array of disabling symptoms long after being infected with SARS-CoV-2 may eventually benefit from a new consensus definition of long Covid.

Rachel Gotbaum: This is “Intention to Treat” from the New England Journal of Medicine. I’m Rachel Gotbaum. Today, we are going to talk about the millions of people who have been struggling with baffling and often disabling symptoms since being infected with SARS-CoV-2. There has been no standard definition of what exactly long Covid is or how to diagnose it, until now. Recently, the National Academies of Sciences, Engineering, and Medicine came out with a comprehensive definition of long Covid, calling it a chronic, systemic disease state with profound consequences. Long Covid can affect any organ in the body and can attack one or multiple systems, and includes some 200 symptoms and hundreds of conditions, such as lupus, cardiovascular disease, fibromyalgia, and cognitive impairment. The hope is that with this new definition, clinicians, researchers, and policymakers can finally help the patients with long Covid who continue to suffer.

Tiffany Brown: I’m Tiffany Brown. I’m 56 years old. I got Covid in August of 2020. By December, I started to feel ill again. I was having trouble concentrating and focusing. The headaches and the full body aches are sometimes so bad, you just don’t want to get out of bed. You just want to lay there because you hurt so bad.

Susan Miller: My name is Dr. Sue Miller. I am 51 years old, and I have had long Covid since my only Covid infection, which was in May of 2022. So I was sick for about 2 weeks. I had a lot of GI symptoms. I had a fever, a terrible sore throat, and I had hallucinations.

After that, my energy level never recovered. I was having headaches and terrible fatigue, and I would forget things. I was a practicing neonatologist at a community hospital, and the thing I noticed when I went back to work was that I couldn’t multitask. And my job is one big multitask.

Tiffany Brown: I started to feel so ill that I went back to the doctor, and I wasn’t getting any results. The doctor took blood work, would always tell me basically, “That’s a lot of symptoms, and it doesn’t sound like you actually have a specific illness.” I felt that they implied many a times a lot of it may be in your head, and they would tell me something like, “You could lose weight, you could eat better, you could start exercising.” And I walked daily for years, and after having Covid, I could not do that. I still can’t.

Susan Miller: I was an extremely high-functioning, athletic, smart, overachieving person. So I would take call for 24 hours, I’d go home and run six miles, cooked my family dinner, walked the dogs, read books, and all of a sudden, I couldn’t do any of that. And it was scary.

Tiffany Brown: I realized that I wasn’t getting any better, and I went to a bigger hospital out of state and had a full interview and many tests done, and I was told I had Covid long-haulers. I had never heard of the Covid long-haulers before, and it was very, very helpful and some relief to know there was a name to what I had and that it wasn’t just in my head.

Susan Miller: One night on call, I was called to see just kind of a routine check of a baby, and I left my call room, and I forgot my glasses, my ID badge — so I couldn’t get back into the call room — and my stethoscope, and I walked out and I got lost a little bit. And it was that moment that I knew I just, I couldn’t take that chance. I took an oath of do no harm. My whole life, I wanted to be a physician. I was at the peak of my career, and I lost all of that because of a virus.

Tiffany Brown: I no longer have my job. I worked for 27 years for the county that I live in, and when I was off work, I was told if I didn’t come back in a certain time, I would be relieved, and they did so. And I had been there so long and knew so many people that it just felt like I had lost friends and family that I would never get back.

Susan Miller: I saw my internist. She ordered a bunch of basic labs and an MRI of my brain, and all of that came back normal. She had no idea what was going on with me. She said that there’s nothing that she can do. All she could offer me was a hug. And now, 2 years later, I realize that that’s really common. Most doctors, they don’t know anything about long Covid.

Tiffany Brown: It was hard, very hard, because most people look at you and you look like you’re OK. They don’t see your pain. So it was very disheartening.

Susan Miller: I had been on a waiting list for a year and a half, and I saw a new neurologist. He was reading my MRI. I had asked him a pointed question about my hippocampus because they’re both small. One’s smaller than the other, and that’s abnormal. They shrunk. They have atrophy. And so I said to him, “Well, this is something that is seen with long Covid,” and he said to me, “Yeah, you probably know more about that than I do.” So me, the brain-injured neonatologist, knows more about how long Covid affects the brain than the neurologist, who is a specialist in the brain. So I called and reached out to every long Covid clinic. I basically just tried to get in anywhere I could.

Tiffany Brown: After I was diagnosed with Covid long-haulers, I applied for the state disability, and I got rejected. No long information, just that “We don’t feel you’re disabled at this time.” Susan Miller: So what I found at the long Covid clinic is that from a psychological standpoint, I have huge validation and a lot of support. What I did not find is that there were actual experts there on this postinfectious syndrome that I have. We can’t tell you why some days your fatigue is so bad that you just have to lay around all day. We can’t tell you why you get bruises in weird spots. We can’t tell you why your toes turn blue all of a sudden. And we don’t know what to do to make it better.

Tiffany Brown: I took out my retirement to have something to live off of, so I was very frightened, from one minute to the next, if I would not be able to pay my gas and light or keep my home. What are you going to do once your money runs out? And I went and got a disability attorney, and through the attorney, I was able to get disability. I didn’t, at one point, think I would be able to go through it. I just thought I would just give up. And it’s still hard day to day.

Susan Miller: I think the biggest problem is that medical providers are not engaged in long Covid. It’s not on their radar. The amount of money they have put into research for long Covid is like spitting in the ocean. Long Covid needs to be in the discussion, the everyday discussion for physicians, for medical professionals, for researchers, for our government. We need to understand that this is a public health crisis. And it’s not going away for some of us.

Rachel Gotbaum: This is “Intention to Treat” from the New England Journal of Medicine. We’re now joined by two people who helped shape the new National Academies of Science definition for long Covid. Karyn Bishof is president of the Longhauler Advocacy Project, and Dr. Wesley Ely is a professor of medicine and critical care at Vanderbilt University. So Dr. Ely, you’re an ICU doctor, you do research. And at first, you’ve written for NEJM and said that you didn’t really believe long Covid existed. Tell us about your experience with that and how it transformed.

E. Wesley Ely: For 25 years, we’ve been studying survivors after the ICU and diagnosing them with this disease state called postintensive care syndrome, which is an acquired disease of dementia and post-traumatic stress disorder and depression, and muscle and nerve disease. So as an ICU doctor, I’m taking care of all these Covid patients in an ICU setting, on ventilators, immobilized, on high-dose sedatives, and I’m thinking they’re getting out of the ICU, and they just have PICS, postintensive care syndrome, and all these people are talking about these prolonged symptoms. And then we started getting calls into our research center here at Vanderbilt University, and these are people who are telling us, “We have prolonged symptoms. We were never in the hospital. We got Covid and never even got admitted to a hospital.” So now we have a new set of people coming to us, saying, “We can’t think well. We have blood-pressure problems. We have heart rates that are through the roof. We have GI problems, all kinds of joint problems — I mean, this whole constellation that we now know of as long Covid over 200 symptoms — and we were never put in a hospital at all. What can you do for us? What is this?”

And so I had to start thinking to myself, “Wes, you need education. You need to learn. And most importantly, you need to listen to these people.” And as a medical insider, we are taught to not diagnose something unless we understand what it is, to not label something unless we understand what it is. And when we don’t understand something, we feel uncomfortable. And that’s the way I felt. I felt like, for example, part of the disease of long Covid has a lot to do with the symptoms of myalgic encephalomyelitis/chronic fatigue syndrome, and that ME/CFS is a disease state that many people don’t believe of in Western medicine. There’s no diagnostic test, there’s no treatment, isn’t even real, and many doctors label such patients as psychosomatic or having psychological illness and suggest that they go get psychiatric help, and it’s all stress related. So that’s where I was coming from as a physician. Am I willing to lay down my diagnosis and call it a real thing and have other doctors in my circles say, “Wes, are you losing it? Do you actually believe this stuff?,” and in the end of the day, I fell heavily on the side of, “Yes, I believe in this. And call me a quack, but I think we’re going to prove that this is a real disease state, and we’ve got a lot to learn from the patients and about the science.”

Rachel Gotbaum: Karyn Bishof, you were a firefighter and a paramedic when you got Covid and then became disabled with long Covid. Tell us about your experience and how you found this community and started to do advocacy.

Karyn Bishof: It started to become evident to me that I wasn’t recovering as much as my coworkers and something wasn’t quite right. I ended up losing my dream career as a firefighter paramedic because of these health issues, and really early on there was no information. I literally went online and Googled “prolonged symptoms from Covid,” and that is how I found the article, talking about long Covid for the first time. That’s how I found an online community of other patients. Up until that point, I thought I was completely alone. There was nothing about this on the news, nothing about this in the media. This was the first time hearing about it, after 3 months of being completely isolated with all of these new symptoms and health conditions that nobody understood. And seeing all the stories from patients like myself, like people being unable to work, people experiencing symptoms that are not being talked about on the news. We now know that there’s 200 symptoms, as Wes already stated. And part of that picture is that umbrella picture of long Covid, which none of us really recognized and knew how large that umbrella was at the time.

I started doing these patient surveys, saying, “What symptoms are you developing? What conditions have you developed? What clinicians are you seeing that may be helping? Have you lost your job? What are your employers saying?” And seeing the responses from so many people across the globe, coming together, trying to figure out what is going on with us, and what can we do to raise the alarm bells for the public and for clinicians and researchers to start helping us and prevent others from becoming like us. And I started to form the Covid-19 Longhauler Advocacy Project. And to date, we’ve now grown to 60 chapters across the U.S., in every U.S. state and territory, and we have chapters for pregnancy and family planning, teens, BIPOC, LGBTQ, caregivers, labor force union, bereavement, and more, because we find that our role is really identifying the gaps and our needs and bringing that to the stakeholders who make the decisions and who can implement the changes that we need.

Rachel Gotbaum: Do we know how many people have long Covid?

E. Wesley Ely: There are fairly good data to say that at least 6% of people who get Covid end up with long Covid. That still translates, by the way, into globally over a hundred million people, and in the United States, 15 to 20 million people. I think that qualifies as a public health disaster right there.

Rachel Gotbaum: So let’s talk about what’s happening, because we’ve talked about 2020, but this is more than 4 years later, and we finally have a definition. What is happening for patients? Karyn Bishof: I think one of the biggest barriers that we still face all comes down to the foundation of education around long Covid. And many in the patient community are still facing these barriers and the stigma from providers who can’t imagine that a virus is causing all of these issues, or think that there has to be something wrong, or there’s comorbidities, or preexisting conditions in these patients, and that’s why they’re developing long Covid. But as the 2024 NASEM long Covid definition points out, anybody can get long Covid, regardless of demographics, regardless of you’re an adult, regardless if you’re a pediatric, regardless if you have prior health conditions. And I think that’s one of the things that has been overlooked during the pandemic as a whole. E. Wesley Ely: I think that what’s happening is that we’ve got millions of people suffering from a disease state, who have either never been acknowledged to have that disease state by a medical professional or have been acknowledged and are getting grave difficulties at finding any real help from the disability and income perspective. So most of these patients who have a severe, progressive form of this, or even a moderate form of this, have lost their livelihood, have lost their ability to make money, they’re disabled, and many of them in our support groups, for example, come to us and say, “OK, I’ve now lost my housing,” and that really puts people in a state of despair. So it’s a public health nightmare, quite frankly. And the public health nightmare is that we have not met these people where they are to help them find Social Security disability income, we have not helped them find the medical needs that they need because doctors haven’t yet, without a definition, felt comfortable making this diagnosis. But we hope that this 2024 NASEM definition will allow the doors to be opened for both medical professionals and the public at large to find a way forward.

Rachel Gotbaum: So Karyn Bishof, the lack of an understanding of this condition has created major barriers for patients to get help.

Karyn Bishof: In terms of the barriers that long Covid patients are facing, when many patients are seeking benefits like Social Security disability, or food assistance, or Medicaid, or housing assistance, they have to rely on a doctor’s documentation of how their illness impacts their activities of daily living, how it impacts their ability to work, how it impacts their ability to attend school. And many of these patients can’t even get that initial documentation from their providers to do that. So in education, I mean, educating not only the patient community, but the very clinicians who are responsible for identifying long Covid in the first place. And the same thing goes for payers and insurance. Many of the medications that we need are not approved for long Covid. Long Covid has no approved treatments, no cure, no anything. So patients are having to also get the diagnoses for, say, conditions like POTS in order to get beta-blockers, or conditions like MCAS in order to get needed medications, and access to many of those specialists are few and far between. So access to clinical care and the type of clinicians needed to get the documentation we have to address in order for the long Covid community to move forward and recover.

Rachel Gotbaum: So how do you think we got here with this lack of attention to this problem?

E. Wesley Ely: I think we are where we are in terms of the societal unacceptance of long Covid and the medical community’s essential unacceptance of long Covid — broad-sweeping brush strokes here — because this pandemic occurred, it threw us all for such a loop, it scared everybody dramatically, we had millions of deaths, and we all want it to be over. We want to forget about this and move on with our lives. And the last thing we want to hear, as a society, is that there is an infection-associated chronic condition resulting from this virus that doesn’t go away for people years later. But honestly, everybody I’ve asked, “Have you ever heard of long Covid?,” they all say, “Oh, yeah, my cousin has it,” “Oh, yeah, my best friend has it.” Everybody seems to know somebody who has long Covid, and yet the government and medical community is not talking about this very broadly. One of my patients applied four times to Social Security, got rejected every time. She has a medical diagnosis of long Covid. She has all the chart documentation that you could ask for. And yet she can’t get the help that she needs. We’re just way behind on acknowledging the realities of this public health disaster.

Rachel Gotbaum: So Karyn Bishof, what is it like for you today? How is your functioning now?

Karyn Bishof: Unfortunately, my health continues to worsen since developing Covid. I’ve been diagnosed with lupus, eosinophilic esophagitis, chronic migraine and new daily persistent headache, GI dysmotility, insomnia, and many other things. I mean, my daily medications are well over 15 to this point, and I’ve probably seen over 40 or 50 different clinicians over the last four and a half years. My typical day, unfortunately, starts with hours and hours of nausea and vomiting every single morning and GI upset. It doesn’t matter if I ate the day before or 3 days before. It happens every single day, and absolutely wipes me out. I mean, I spend my day in bed, sometimes make it down to my couch in my living room. But something like attending my son’s soccer game on a weekend means that I have to commit myself to doing absolutely nothing for 3 to 4 days before and 3 to 4 days after in order to just attend a 2-hour event. And at that 2-hour event, in order for me to go, I have a chair that has a leg lift on it, it has a canopy, I have to bring ice packs with me because I’m not able to regulate my temperature, but I also have to hide from the sun because I have lupus. So it is a cascading, vicious circle of trying to manage, and a lot of the times, unfortunately, we’re not able to prevent. We’re more so chasing, chasing, chasing, and we’re always behind the eight ball.

Rachel Gotbaum: So how will this new long Covid definition help improve the lives of people like Karyn Bishof and so many other people living with this disease? E. Wesley Ely: OK, I’ll say three ways that this definition really improves things — clinically, from a research perspective, and from a policy perspective. Doctors can now see a person in an office that they would have listened to their symptoms and said, “Gosh, I don’t know if I should be out on a limb, making this diagnosis, when I don’t even understand what the disease is, or even to call it a disease.” Now, the doctor can hear their patient and say, “Wow, you meet this 2024 NASEM long Covid definition very clearly. You meet the criteria. I’m putting in your chart that you have long Covid.”

Doctors before wouldn’t have done that because they didn’t want to be out on a fringe and be called a quack, OK? So that’s the first thing is clinically. Now the patient also has achieved a great accomplishment, now that they can be believed and be heard. Then second, from a research perspective, doctors like me, physician-scientists, can design randomized control trials with explicit inclusion/exclusion criteria based on this definition, and get the right people in, exclude the wrong people that won’t help to answer a specific research question, and get the public answers about the right therapies for this disease state. And then third, the policymakers can say, “Ah, finally, I get it. That’s what this is? Let’s change the way we determine disability income rights for patients to meet this definition.” So all three of those are huge things we think can be affected by the publishing of this definition.

Karyn Bishof: This definition helps to get everybody on the same page. Now, we have a standardized, consensus definition, that if adopted government-wide and implemented, will help start shaping these programs to benefit the long Covid community. But the most important thing to emphasize is that it’s actually adopted and implemented. Having this definition is a great starting point, but unless these people and these programs begin to implement that, the long Covid community sits and waits in the same position we’re in right now.

Rachel Gotbaum: Thank you both so very much.

Karyn Bishof: Thank you for having us and for raising awareness about long Covid.

E. Wesley Ely: It’s a privilege to be part of this process of discovery and, hopefully, to find patients who are suffering some answers. Rachel Gotbaum: We had help from Associate Editor Cliff Rosen and Producer Brigid McCarthy. Our managing editor is Debra Malina, and our engineer is Adam Straus. Next time, researchers say it may someday be possible to communicate with more patients in a coma or vegetative state than previously thought.

Speaker 6: I think that this indicates that there’s probably a substantial population of people who we see just no evidence of responsiveness at the bedside, and yet something’s going on in there. Rachel Gotbaum: That’s next time on “Intention to Treat” from the New England Journal of Medicine. I’m Rachel Gotbaum.

[girlvinland]

Today was weird. It started off not great, but sometime during the day I got struck with fic motivation and added four more pages to my second pardoner x morne knight chapter (been feeling a lot of annoyance at myself for putting it off but like. life stuff). I have a bit more to go bc I realized I want Covrin to play a larger role than I initially thought, so I still want to add a scene with him and one to wrap up the chapter. I hope I can do that within the week, and I’m excited to include Cov more. Kind of want to nail down a good friendship for Perci.

A bit after that I wanted to do an arm workout at home but after three sets of my first exercise I was like oh fuck I can’t do this bc tired and weak. Then I realized I was just hungry and had a snack/was able to do the entire thing idk lol :S simple solution. Like I’ve said before, I’ve only been focusing on strength stuff since February so I’m still learning what it requires from me even with eating and everything, and usually it’s more than I expect. And in general it sometimes feels really different to me than something I’ve done in the past like distance running, for instance. That always felt like the main focus was stamina and keeping my energy really steady versus using a lot of energy in shorter bursts. I’ve been trying to track macros better and it’s been sort of useful while also not making me become obsessed with food and it’s helped me discover more foods I like for that. It’s an adventure, but it’s been neat seeing the progress and trying to learn new things.

Last thing is that a friend I haven’t spoken to in a long time texted me asking to video call tomorrow, so that was kind of nice. She used to work under me as a student and now does a lot of archive-related stuff and I’m proud of her. She’s pretty cool and the only person I’ve ever known from North Dakota lol (well, and her family). I’m a little nervous but I think it’ll be nice to catch up.

Lately I’ve been looking back a lot on the past year or so and it’s been a bit eye-opening to see changes in my life now versus last summer. I don’t want to get into it all rn but I feel like things are so vastly different (in a good way for the most part), it makes me feel hopeful sometimes even though there are still waves of grief/anger/etc. Now I just really want a job I like again so I can focus more on moving forward and I hope things will keep falling into place.

Sorry if this was a little all over the place, it was kind of just thinking out loud for a bit.

[extremelyblackandwhite]

a very merry sebmas - day 11

pairing: endings beginnings!frank x reader

a/n: another small sebmas, mostly bc my exams became available today and i spent most my day researching sars-cov-2 so i’m slightly paranoid. enjoy xx

holiday divider by @firefly-graphics

“frank what happened?” y/n had just returned from her break, cookie still in hand as she approached the still bare front of the tree. frank was wrapped in fairy lights and kids were running around him covering him in gold tinsel

he didn’t say anything instead looking at her with a look that read as HELP 

“okay children, behave. santa is gonna be back in a bit and how would he feel about you imprisioning one of his elfs?” she crutched over to their size and almost as if by magic, at least it looked like it to him, the kids let go and rushed over and away from him. 

“thank you” he said trying to wiggle himself free from the christmas decorations. she rolled her eyes, pulling onto the fairy lights which pulled at the bottom of his feet “they’re vicious” “they’re kids, frank.” “do you have any?” “kids? no. you?” “i think i would’ve killed myself” “i see you’re still as dramatic as you used to be” “so ... what do you do for a living?” “i’m a nurse” “a nurse?” “why is that so unbelievable?” “because you’re working here on the holiday season. surely it’s a busy season” “it is but i always book my holidays for christmas, mostly because i like helping around here. my dad still works here. what about you, what do you do?” “lawyer” “no way” “yes way” “no way, your mother’s always saying you’re a dead beat” “oh wow, y/n for someone who didn’t say more than hi to me for ten years, that hurts” “i just pictured you as a broke artist” “i’ll take it” “you should probably decorate the tree now, i’ll give you a hand”

she climbed up on the ladder, putting some smaller ornaments on the top of the tree while frank put the bigger ones on the bottom. as she turned around to grab more for ornaments she tripped on the stair case

y/n only closed her eyes, she had fallen out of ladders several times but this was a high ladder and she just hoped it wouldn’t cause much damage

however, instead of hitting the ground, she ended up being held and as she peaked her eyes open, frank was holding her “i see you’re still clumsy” “shut up” “hey, i caught you. a thank you would be nice” “okay then, you decorate the top of the tree” “you see i’m not good at decorating” “really? it didn’t look like it” “i just saved your life” “you saved a bruise” “do you really wanna argue with a lawyer?” “yeah i do” “okay then give me one good reason why after this you shouldn’t go on a date with me”

[braincoins]

I ordered groceries yesterday. This is not uncommon, given that I can be hospitalized if I get a bad enough cold, let alone SARS-CoV-FUCKING-2. And also that Pengy and I are inherently lazy people.

My shopper was Robert, who was very nice and understanding about all the heavy-ass shit in the order (cat litter, case of Coke, 12 pack of mini Pepsi, entire box of Ensure...) and I gave him five stars and a decent tip, which is what I pretty much always do, honestly. You start at five stars with me and I deduct stars as I feel that you, personally, done fucked up, which is rare with this sort of thing. 

Now, as is also fairly freaking common, I didn’t get everything on my list. One of the things I had to have was the iron supplement pills (because guess whose iron levels are stupid low?) and one of the things I really wanted was what I call CFP: cheap frozen pizza. Look, sometimes you don’t want quality, you want the nostalgia of the shit you bought and ate in college because it was all you could afford.

Well, neither of those things were in stock yesterday. I always put No Substitutions because I hate going back and forth with a stranger about The Exact Thing I Want. Communicating with strangers is best done as little as possible, and I still have this inherent feeling that “having standards” is the same thing as “being selfish.” So when these two items didn’t show up in the order or receipt, I figured it was a matter of that No Substitutions rule.

Earlier today, I went to the grocery store myself. I had forgotten to put my also-much-needed omeprazole on the list, so I had to get that, and I wanted to pick up those iron pills. I had initially planned to trek over to get the CFP and some cereal (another forgotten item on the list), but I wasn’t feeling well, so I just got those two items (and, yes indeed, they had another brand but not the one I specified, so that was the only problem there) and a Sprite and returned home.

But a little while ago, I thought, “Well, let’s see if I can get those items now.” I was hoping they’d be in stock, but, if nothing else, perhaps they’d have the CFP. I had put a 4 pack of them on the list, but I was hoping they’d have some individuals. Part of me felt like I was “going behind Robert’s back” which is silly, but I didn’t worry about it too much ‘cause I’ve never had the same shopper twice.

“Hi, I’m your Shipt shopper Robert. Again lol.”

I WANT TO DIE

I hurriedly type in about forgetting items (which was true), and he told me he does it all the time. He also said that since I gave him five stars, I’m more likely to get him when he’s working and the time slot I’d chosen - the same as yesterday’s, coincidentally - is the last slot of his shift on days he works. 

I am just mortified for reasons I can’t even really analyze and, frankly, don’t want to. I dive back into watching old John Oliver clips and try to forget that this dude probably remembers the pizza at least and may even now be saying to himself, “Bitch, they didn’t have it yesterday...”

He does end up contacting me though to tell me that, basically, only two of the items I wanted were even available. So I ask him, with many apologies, if he can cancel the order? I feel even worse now, because now he’s not getting a tip, y’know? 

“I can do that, no worries. See you next time!”

oh god I don’t know if I want that or not

At least he already knows where to go and won’t drop our shit off at some random other building?

But now I have no CFP upon which to nom. So I guess I’ll just... I dunno, have fudge bars and kettle chips.

[a-fluffer-nutter]

Life Update

Thank you all for the warm wishes and words on my latest fic. It means a ton. 

Now, I wouldn’t say I’m back. I’m just going to write occasionally now that I have some time and a consistent schedule for the first time since the plague hit. This will occasionally get messed up depending on some things, but I will touch on it in a moment.

I figured I would give you all a life update, and no, I didn’t die. Unfortunately :P

I’ve been spending a ton of time with my partner and I couldn’t be any happier. This is definitely the man I want to spend the rest of my life with and I cannot wait to see where our lives take us. By spending time with him, this obviously gives me less time on here, by a lot. I have mostly been spending time with him at his place, since I had to move back in with my parents when I lost my job due to the Covs and I’m not the biggest fan of my parent’s ideologies on how this country is being ran, but I digress. He and I have been spending a ton of time together with both of us mostly jobless, and it has been strangely wonderful. We’ve spent hours in different state and national parks (socially distant, don’t you worry your sweet asses), and I have never felt more alive. He makes me feel alive and I love him for it and everything else he has to offer. I would give y’all his first name, but I can’t since it’s unique and he’s kinda famous-ish in a certain group of people so I won’t. But he is my light, my life, and everything in between. He also knows about this page, though, and he thinks it’s hilarious. He hasn’t read anything, yet, thank fuck, but he supports it all, despite me not having written anything really since meeting him. 

Anyway, more life shit:

1. I’ve been unemployed since mid March. I’d really like for Moscow McConnell to give us our stimulus checks back, but fuck him. I’m not really looking for work, but if anyone really wants me see commission pieces, I’ll consider it. Spare cash is good cash.

2. My grandmother died in August. I have never felt so empty that month than ever before. My boyfriend was the main reason I’m not still curled into a ball in bed today. It wasn’t sudden, but at least she isn’t suffering anymore.

3. I’m currently in the process of applying to universities for a master’s program. I’m hoping to attend a program abroad, especially with how November might go, so fingers crossed in all that nonsense. 

4. Last month, my wonderful state, Oregon, burned. I had to live with my boyfriend as I evacuated my house as a precaution while my parents stayed back. I have never seen so much despair, yet so much hope at the same time. I love my state (sans the Trumpians screaming in Portland, but fuck them) and I am so proud to have grown up here.

So yeah, that’s what’s been going on with me. I may be doing like goals on my work, just to make sure I’m not doing this for like one person. I want to start writing again, but I want to make sure you all are enjoying it. But, do not like my fic if you didn’t actually enjoy it. I just want to see who my audience is and if I don’t get a like goal, I won’t stop writing, I’ll just pause and readjust what I’m doing.

Thank you all for your patience and support of me this last year. I love you all.

Best,

Alexis

PS What the fuck happened to this community in the last few days? It seems like a shitstorm went through.

[madllamamomma]

OK! Lightweight Part 3 (Final) Muriel x Mc (OC) Smut ;) And some fluff NSFW, 18+, blah blah blah.

Lightweight Part 3~

You wake up feeling a heavy warm arm holding you close. You slowly realize that you are still at Muriel hut. Last night was a bit of a blurr,  and despite having a touch of a hangover, you feel amazing. You feel like months of a build up was released all at once.

You turn over to Muriel, he’s already awake looking like he may have done something wrong.

He’s very quiet. You rub your face and eyes, then look down at the covers looking at your naked bodies, his face starts to become flush. “Rh--Rhemi... “

“--We… We did it last night… right?… It wasn’t a dream?”

Muriel’s looks like he feels awful about it. “....Yeah…we did. I’m--”

You push out a long exhale relieved, smiling widely. “Yessss!~” You turn over slowly, resting your chin on his chest. “...I was afraid...it was a very vivid wet dream.”

He stiffens, looking perplexed. “You….your still ok with it?....wait...--you..WHAT?!”

You nod slowly grinning and blushing bashfully, “Yes….I…. I’ve had them a lot…..About you. Ladies have them too!”

He looks incredibly embarrassed, but also a little flattered. “So….you’re ok? You’re not…. Hurt?”

“No… well other than my head… and my lady bits a little--- but that’s normal! I’m not broken or anything like that!….You’re… Ahh.. member is just...big.” Your face continues to get more red, but you still have a pleased grin on your face.

“Wh--Why do you think I was so terrified? I’m just… and you’re so...”  He takes his hands spacing them apart trying to explain with his hands the size differences.

You giggle, “...Being big isn’t a bad thing, Muriel.-- It’s a bonus!” You kiss his chest. “...It will get easier for us..we’ll just have to….you know...practice.~” You give him a playful, flirtatious wink. He flutters his eyes shocked at the thought, his face pink. You can’t help but chuckle at his reaction, and you lean into his face and kiss his cheek. He’s so cute when he’s flustered like that.

Your attention then goes to his poor shoulders and neck, gasping at your apparent handy work. He’s covered with hickies, and scratches. “Oh shit!...I can’t say the same for you, Mur.”

“What?” You touch his neck where you are looking at, rubbing the scratches sadly. He reaches around with his hand, feeling your claw marks. “...Oh, these?”

You nod apologetically. “Did I...hurt you?”

He smiles softly looking at the wall next to the bed, still blushing, “...I’m fine…. I’ve had worse.…I'd rather have these than--.” He stops himself from finishing that sentence, both of your cheeks now very flushed. “..I-- I mean--”

You sputter, and bury your face in his neck, and are unable to stop your laughter. “I’m happy to oblige!~ We all knew you were a lover and not a fighter!...Now I know really know that.” He grumbles to himself ashamed of his words.

“...Did… did you...Like it?” You twirl your hair looking a little sheepish. 

Red moves all the way down his neck and chest, his nostrils flare a bit before answering that question you know he didn’t really want to answer. “....I.. I did...…Is that...bad?”

“Muriel, I love you. I want to give you all of me...including my body.” You straddle him, look down at his handsome face as you sit on top of him. “...It’s not bad at all. I’m happy you liked it! I did too.~” He can’t help but marvel at your bare chest as you sit on top of him. You take his hand and wrap them around your ribs, just above your waist. “...We can… practice again… if you want.~” Your eye lids almost shut, but behind them is a hunger that is not yet satisfied. 

He tries to hide a smile at your forwardness, but he doesn’t seem against the suggestion.“I mean.. I wouldn’t mind it…” He mutters.

You lean down into him, slowly pressing your lips into his. His fingers push your hair away from your face and starts kissing you back, each one more passionate that the next. Your hips start to slowly thrust, and you start to feel his member being rock hard again. You reach behind your body for the shaft so slide his member back into you again. BANG BANG BANG!!--

Muriel and you about jump out of your skins. Your eyes shoot towards the door in shock. Who the fuck is knocking at Muriel’s door that this earl in the morning? AND WHY NOW?

“Muriel?...You home?” That sounds like Asra’s voice...--OH NO! He has no idea that you’re here with Muriel! FUUUUCK!! 

Muriel and your eyes become insanely huge, you cover your mouth with your hand to stifle your inappropriate laughter at this moment. “...Your door is locked…” Asra waits for an answer for a moment while you both flounder silently. “Muriel?” Asra sighs ,“...Huh…First no Rhemi, now no Muriel?...”

Muriel looks at you panicked, you quickly roll off of him wrapping your body with the blankets and furs. You nudge him, mouthing, “Say Something!”, gesturing to the door. Muriel’s trunk  shoots up from the bed, choking on his reply, “--Ye--yeah!.. I’m here--Hold on--” He quickly hops out of the bed, fumbling for his pants and shoes. He gestures for you to hide under the covers and furs, you can’t stop snickering. This is so fucking insane. He quickly walks up to the door, but before opening it, he looks back at you for reassurance. You smile stupidly, waving your hand. Go on! Then cover your mouth with your finger to ensure him you won’t make a peep.

Muriel quickly makes his way outside, shutting the door hastily once he was out. You can hear the conversation as you slowly roll your naked self out the bed and sneakishly start to get dressed.

“Oh, Morning….Muriel?....You ok?---You're rather sweaty this morning...Did you have a bad dream or something?”

“No-- N--not…. exactly..” Muriel clears his throat sharply. You snicker to yourself, trying to contain your laughter. While you rummage for your belt and underwear. “What...uh.. What's wrong?”

Asra exhales long and almost sadly, “Can...Can we go inside, sit, and talk?” You shudder as you hear Asra’s words, quickly throwing on your shirt, it luckily covers all the things that matter.

“NO!... uh… redecorating… It looks like shit in there.” OH shit that’s right! Muriel’s a terrible liar!

“Oh…Umm... ok.. then?” You can hear Asra’s back slide against the wall of the hut. He bought that? “...Out here is fine, I guess.”

Muriel’s voice starts to become a little more concerned. “...something wrong?”

Asra sighs deeply again, he sounds so confused. “Yes…. no?...I-- I don’t know...”

You keep looking for your skirt and corset belt as he continues to talk, but it’s nowhere to be found still. You look to Inanna still trying to catch up on some sleep. She’s no help today.

Asra inhales deeply, “..Ok.. so something kinda happened last night…”

“Bad…?” Muriel replies still worry in his voice.

“No… not bad per say.---Let’s just say something… happened ….between …me …and …. *coughs* Julian.” WHAT???

“Uhhhhhhhhhhh…..” Muriel groans rather uncomfortably. You stop looking for your clothes and you stare at the door, your heart flutters and you continue to listen.

“I--know-- I know!--I’m sorry Muriel. You’re not the person to talk to about this. --But Rhemi isn’t at the shop this morning, and I really just need to talk to someone.”

“....Fuckinggreatluckyme...” he grumbles quietly. 

Asra chuckles a bit, “I wouldn't have come to you if it wasn’t somewhat urgent, Muriel. I...I need to make a decision here in a few hours…. I--I might be leaving for awhile--.”

Julian…. Did he ask Asra??---Did he confess to him?! He HAD to have! You can’t help but feel so excited. There was always something between those two, you just knew it.

Asra goes on, “--It would be a few months…I’d promise I’ll be back…but..”

Muriel exhales deeply. “...But?” You can hear Muriel's voice, he’s very excited about him leaving, or the Julian part. But if he was completely against it, he would say something.

“...But… If I do leave… What are you going to do?-- What is Rhemi going to do? What about the shop? I’ve never left that long before-- I feel like I can’t just up and abandon everything like that. What if she’ll need me? If I go will she hate me? And you?”

Muriel thinks about his words for a moment before responding. “Asra… I’ll be fine. Rh--Rhemi will be fine... You... you should do what you want...”

You press your head against the door, listening to Muriel’s words. “Rhemi... she keeps tell me this...You’re... aloud to want things.... You are too, Asra.”

Tears start to swell in your eyes, even though Muriel probably hates the idea, he still wants his oldest friend to be happy. You hear a fleshy thump sound, like Asra’s hand is tapping Muriel’s shoulder.

“Thanks, Muriel…But I… I just don’t feel convinced.” You hear Asra stand up and start to walk away, stop in his tracks and turn back around to Muriel. “..I just--I feel like I can’t abandon you two like that. If I did go, I probably wouldn’t get a chance to tell her in person. You know how she is… She won’t say, but she wouldn’t take that well.” He starts to walk away again.

“--Maybe this is all not met to be...” No no no NO NO!!!! ASRA!!! “Hey...Forget it I said anything, Muriel. It was just spur the moment thing anyway. I’m sorry to drop in and wake you up so early.”

“Wait, Asra--” You hear Muriel’s large figure stand as well.

“It--it’s ok, Muriel... I’ll-- I mean..It will be ok--”

You can’t let Asra get away. Asra and Julian clearly have something special. You want him to be happy.  You can’t let him talk himself out of being happy!

SLAMMM !!

“--ASRA, I THINK YOU AND JULIAN BELONG TOGETHER!!” You shout as you suddenly burst out of Muriel’s hut, a blanket over your shoulder, hiding your loose tits and your skirtlessess.

Muriel and Asra both stare at the door frame where you are standing for a moment, fluttering their eyes in disbelief at you. Oh fuck. What did I just do...Muriel’s entire face and chest blood red. You slowly turn to him, looking very sorry. He sighs deeply then scratches the back of his head bashfully, glancing quickly at Asra, then to the ground.

Asra sports a very confused look on his face, “Rh--Rhemi? What are you….doing….here?” Asra’s eyes dart from your red face, to the blanket that's covering you, then to Muriel, his red body, and now noticing the scratch marks and hickeys on his neck. His eyes light up as he slowly connects the dots. A very large, mischievous smile takes over his face, “Ooh-hoo~!.”

You quickly glance up at Muriel, both clueless what to do or say. You choke on your words unable to think properly, all you can muster up are sloppy hand gestures and stuttering.

Asra eyes wide open, folding his arm, his chin resting on his knuckles, smirking. “Was I... interrupting...something here?”

“--NO!!” You both defensively answer quickly in unison, Muriel shaking his head and your voice cracks.

A laugh escapes his lips. “Well.. this explains why you weren't at the shop this morning, Rhemi!”

You have no idea what to say at this moment, you sink your face down more into the blanket, embarrassment completely freezing your body as Asra continues, “... and here I thought you were up early shopping at the market!”

You feel Muriel taking a hold of your hand in his, completely surprising you. Muriel looking at the ground, face still incredibly red, “Sh--Shut up, Asra….” he scowls. There wasn’t any denying it. You two fucked. And why the hell cares? You are happy that you’re with Muriel. You don’t want to hide it anyway.

Asra’s laughs at Muriel’s sheepish face, excitement in his voice “AWWW! I’m proud of you, Buddy!”  

“A--ASRA!” Poor Muriel shudders.

Asra throws his head back and starts to lose himself in his laughter. You notice him wince at his shoulder, trying to cover himself with his jacket. Your eyes squint at him suspiciously, his laughter slow stop as he notices you shuffling over, blanket still over your shoulders. You look up at him, his cheeks start to become slightly flush as you glance to his hand. “...Whatcha hiding, Asra?” You raise your eyebrow, his eye darts side-to-side, not answering, a small bead of sweat on his temple.

You smack his wrist, he pulls it away. “Ouch! ---GAAH!”  You pull the scarf slightly off of his shoulder, exposing multiple teeth marks and hickies on his neck and chest. He freezed as he watched you bat your eyelashes and the corners of your mouth slowly curl upwards. “Ahhhhhh….ok....I can--I can explain...” Asra nervously smiles, chuckling defensively. He quickly covers the bites up with his hand again.

You take a step away judging harshly, smiling ear to ear. You fold your arms with the blanket. “So...‘Something happened last night’? Huh?”

“It… it was Faust.--”

Faust sticks her head out of his bag, quickly wrapping herself around his wrist, flicking her fork tongue. ”Lies!”

You sputter as laughter takes over you, full force. Asra, smiles cheeks flushed, it’s his turn to look embarrassed. “I knew you guys had some kind of chemistry!”

Hold on--You suddenly realize that there isn’t any time for this. “What a minute--- The boat leaves in a few hours!” You grasp his shoulders, shaking him a little,  his winces at you touch his bad shoulder a little too tightly. “--You’ve got to pack!....I need to go to the market--- get you supplies! Shit-- we don’t have time to dally...No time!!” You rush over, throw open the door of the hut looking over your shoulder both of them, the both blankly stare at you, confused. You flick your wrist to Asra, “Well! Get the hell out of here! You need to get going!”

You almost shut the door, then stick your arm out, pointing at Asra. “--And don’t even think about leaving without saying goodbye!”

You shut the door with a hard clunk.

You can still hear Asra as he softly laughs. “...She’s a handful, Muriel, you think you can handle her?”

“Yeah she is…” he chuckles a little then quickly chokes on his words, “Wait!-- I didn’t-- I meant-- OOFF!”

Asra continues to laugh, he sounds like he just hugged Muriel’s waist. “I know you’ll take good care of her, Muriel.... And she’ll… she’ll take good care of you, too.” Asra’s voice starts to sound shaky. “I’m… I’m so, so glad you both have each other.”

Muriel doesn’t say anything, but you can tell that he doesn’t let go for a little bit.

Your back rests against the door, still listening to them. Your eyes start to water, everything starts to just sink in all at once.

Asra....He didn’t want the both of you to be alone. Last time he did, you died.

He always came back from his travels because of Muriel and you. Separately, the two of you needed him so badly. --But together, you weren’t so dependent on him. You both loved him. He's one of your best of friends. He was the only person that you Muriel had for a long time. And… And he’s going to be gone for a long time. You realize how much you were going to miss him. He’ll be back, but he’ll be gone for months. A year at most.

You can hear Muriel approach the door. You step away to let him in, you slowly look up at him, tears stream down your face. Muriel’s face almost matches yours. You don’t have to explain to him. He understands. He embraces you, picking you up, feet slightly hovering off of the floor. You wrap your arms around his neck as he holds you by the small of your back and shoulders. “Are you going to miss him?” You mutter through your tears.

“...I always do when he leaves...I worry he’ll wouldn’t come back.” Muriel utters a little.

“I… I do too.” You sniffle and both of your foreheads pressed together, Muriel wipes the tears from your eyes. “...He’ll be back… and if he doesn’t, I’ll kick Julian’s fucking ass!”

Muriel snorts, “Yeah… I like the sound of that.”  He puts you down and you kiss his cheek.

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

You finally get yourself to town and get all the preparations Asra needed, Muriel even comes to help out. Everyone, including Portia and Nadia, all come to say goodbye on the docks, you and Julia exchange a very grateful look then gives you a friendly hug. He tries to hug Muriel, but he twists his face at him. You give Muriel a pouting look, and he pats him on the shoulder, asking him to make sure that he doesn’t get themself killed.

Asra waves goodbye to the both of you as they set sail, holding Julians hand. Julian never looked so happy. Times have changed, all of you have all changed, all have grown. Relationships are starting and taking new steps to further them. Muriel’s hand squeezes yours tighter as you both watch as the ship disappear on the horizon. You hug his waist, he peers down at you, he musters up a small grin.

Muriel said that he met Asra met here. He sounded almost nostalgic, a little sad.

You squeeze his hand tightly, pulling him close to you. “Muriel, are you ok?”

He wipes a small tear out of his eye, shaking away the thought, looking down at you smiling softly.“Yeah… I am now. “

You smile back at him, and start to walk off the wharf. “Let's go home. Together.”

The End~

As always, thanks for reading my hot trash! I hoped you liked it =) 

Feel free to share if you’d like. 

[zenobiaofbyzantium]

It happened.

It finally found me. And my family.

We contracted - I don’t know how the fuck it happened - COVID & tested positive for over a week ago. It has been... I don’t know how to describe. Like a roller-coaster, maybe?

Upon learning that we all tested positive, I tried to keep it cool but I lost it. As I’ve mentioned in my previous posts, I’m immuno-compromised & using immuno-suppresant meds for a while now. Thankfully I’m not too compromised to stay in hospital regularly but I’m much more receptive to catch any disease, let alone a fucking SARS virus.

The Health Department caught up with us immediately. I am more than grateful for all the healthcare workers. It all would go to hell without them. Once our tests came back, a contact-tracing team from Health Department came to our house and brought meds. In Turkey, Favipiravir is used to treat SARS-CoV-2 patients so we recieved some as well.

In addition we have taken some vitamin C & D supplements. We have also taken anticoagulant to prevent clotting. We checked our vitals twice a day - blood pressure, oxygen level, temperature - and I kept log. At last, our treatment ended couple of days ago. We’ll be released from isolation by monday.

What can I say... Well, I can state that it sucked thoroughly. It was one of the worst things I’ve ever experienced. I felt like I’d been suffering from a heavy cold. One moment I was energetic, cleaning out the MA files on my computer and other, every cell, every organ in my body hurt like hell. My stomach was on fire and on the second day I lost sense of taste & smell at the same time.

Then came the psychological hit. I guess until I lost sense of taste & smell, I’d been holding on. Once I did, I collapsed. I could not rest, I could not read / watch / study / work... I wanted to burst into tears but kept holding on for the sake of my mother. Like I said, it thoroughly sucked.

Thankfully, treatment is over. We all feel so much better already. I have much less pain. Still taking vitamin supplements & my usual medication but other than that it’s done.

I wish this on noone. And for me, it was more like a heavy cold. I did not need hospitalization &/ intubation. For every breath I take, I am grateful for all the medicine & healthcare workers both in my country and on a global basis. We would have lost so much more if you were not here to help. Thank you, all!

One of my oldest friends is an RN in pediatric COVID service and she also experienced COVID some time ago. She gave me so much support. I wll be forever thankful to her. And three of my best friends kept me sane, constantly reaching out and asking how my health is. My favorite (yes, I have a favorite) cousin drove by to our house and dropped food, some vitamins and dessert. One of my uncles dropped by and also brought food & dessert. My father’s buddy stopped by, bringing food. My mom’s friend brought vegetables & fruits. Brought me to tears. I never knew how lucky I am with all the people in my life.

My mom, dad, brother and I feel so much better already. Thankfully we’ve experienced it like a cold. We did not have trouble breathing or pain we cannot overcome with OTC painkillers. But as I’ve previously mentioned, I think the psychological toll will be haunting us a little bit longer. Isolated in a house for almost two-weeks & not being able to go outside, take a walk, go to the market etc. felt so much smothering.

Today, I felt like I was gaining my taste & smell back. It’s not like before, but I think they’re coming back. I was able to taste chocolate bar & smell my perfume a little. When you don’t have taste & smell, you do not want to eat & drink anything. Everything tastes like plain tap water. I hope to gain them back fully ASAP.

My parents and brother are also better. We’re just hoping we don’t contract it again or at least get vaccinated before. Well it’s Turkey, so odds are we will contract before getting vaccinated. Fingers crossed.

I am thinking about resting for the weekend and getting back to work on monday. Hopefully I don’t suffer from the long term effects of this disease.

I just wish noone suffers from this god awful disease anymore. The medicine & pharmacology found its vaccine. All the people on earth MUST be able to access any of the vaccines equally. There is absolutely no argument for otherwise. People are dying every second by this preventable & treatable disease on the face of this earth. It cannot go on like this.

Hope the situation in all corners of the planet gets better. Hope they understand that “herd immunity” requires all of us getting immune to this, not a certain nation &/ people. ALL OF US.

Take care of yourselves, my fellow brethren.

Peace and out.

[mauserfrau]

Bordertober - Time For Two, Part 1

Tyreen’s view of waking up at Dr. Black’s.  Contains medical/injury material, Tyreen being gross and some vaguely hinted at Troyreen.  Note that Part 2 is shaping up to be more obvious about this.  Probably nothing graphic, since I’m planning to recut all of the Dr. Black shorts into a single story.  Oh, and I put her H/C post at the bottom.

Waking up at Dr. Black’s had been embarrassing more than anything else.  She’d had no idea where she was the first few times she came around.  There were now two holes in her torso and two in her right arms.  She couldn’t do anything for herself. Ugh-- that part was the worst.  Troy gave her a bath with fucking people wipes.  She got sacks full of doped up skag pups and chickens for food.  She did not get to toilet herself.  Nope, stuck in bed except for leg stretches twice a day, no complaints, ring the bell if you need anything. 

And then that woman, leaning over her, poking her with clamps and sounds because she couldn’t use her hands.  Well, it took the fever rolling off of her for Tyreen to take notice of it, but Dr. Black seems to keep all of her dexterity in those fingers of hers.  The rest of her had some mild form of dyskinesia, probably an old injury pretty far down her spine.  It happened to make her look like easy prey, but Tyreen figurds not devouring the person who procured her pain meds might work out better in the long run.

Meds meaning she slept a lot.  Actually, Tyreen wasn’t sure that she’d ever slept so much in her whole life.  She spent most of the days under for a few restless hours at dawn or dusk spent ticking over a third-hand ECHO and feeling her guts lurch at random as the moon smirked down the operating theater skylight.  She made it to the bottom of a music swapping forum she’d been eyeing and listened to old school synth jazz while reading Vonnegut or something called “Pirate AU Fanfiction” which she didn’t realize was derivative until she found the one starring Arthur Gordon Pym of all characters.

So it wasn’t like she was bored.  Hell, the weird thrum of her body knitting back together could have kept her occupied.

The stillness in her bones though ached worse than her bullet wound.

Tyreen sighed.  She ran her hand down her torso to the sore, bruised place trailing off from her entry wound.  She pressed ever so lightly until her belly twinged and her toes curled.

This didn’t so much remind her of the fact she was going to be wearing a lovely S&S Munitions bullet for the rest of her life.  It reminded her of that other itch she couldn’t scratch, the one that was going to take talking instead of prowling to fix.

~*~

Dr. Black at least took hints.  Tyreen bitched at her about being woken up closer to noon than not exactly once.  Next time? Dawn hadn’t even cracked

She got her vitals taken and her bandages changed.  The IV came out and that was the only blood that leaked out of her that day.  Her wrappings still got all sticky and rheumy, but they weren’t brown anymore in that way that kind of made her want to suck on them.

So, a lot of next times later, it finally happened: “Well, you’re healing up nicely if I do say so myself.  What do you want to do first?”

Weird.  Tyreen never asked Troy what he wanted to do when he started improving after a spell or a fall.  She squinted at Dr. Black.  “Is that a trick question?”

“Well, I don’t recommend BASE jumping for obvious reasons, but no?” Not that Dr. Black sounded sure of this.

“I need my hair washed.  That dry shampoo made it all sandy and shit.  Then I wanna go outside and, you know.”

“I’m out of chickens, sorry.”

Tyreen rolled her eyes.  She’d actually meant piss on a fence post and scope out the best vantages for ambushes, but she was getting hungry too, so of course the woman had to mention.  “Whatever.  Hair first.”

“Well, your brother and me already figured out how to do that since you’re still not cleared to shower because germ transfer.  Get ready.”

The two of them maneuvered her onto one of the rolling stools and pushed her into the kitchen rather than any of the bathrooms-- for a woman living alone, Dr. Black had at least three according to her hallway.

Tyreen’s impression of the kitchen was what it smelled of some unfamiliar grassy-brown spice and eggs.  Most food didn’t tempt her anymore, but there was something about the whiff of a runny yolk that got her tongue to stir.  Anyway, the stainless steel sink had been scrubbed out and Tyreen knew where this was going.  She groaned.

She’d been all of four the last time anybody washed her hair for her, let alone in a sink.  Sink salons were for babies.

Troy’s hand rested on her shoulder.  “It’s just for a couple of times.  What else have I been doing for you? And did the world end, Ty?”

“Fine.  I want two washes and extra gooey stuff.” She meant conditioner, but she flicked her tongue over her lips pronouncing it gooey stuff like a drunk her.

Troy blinked way too hard, but he nodded and finished wheeling her over.

So much for innuendo getting her anyplace today.  He was probably stuck in his own head for a change.  Contemplating caring for her.  Like it was… like it was that big of a deal after all the trash that had happened.   

Just like when they worked on her, Dr. Black handed over the equipment and he used it, though this time, easy on the instructions.  

Troy bundled her up in a towel, wet her and worked the first round of shampoo in slow, scratching over the residue on her scalp and using the dish sprayer to double rinse.  The whole time he leaned over her, face tight with concentration.  He wouldn’t look her in the eyes and Tyreen couldn’t say she wanted him too, not even when he went for the wet/dry trimmer and neatened up her unintentional undercut.

“You want anymore off?” he asked the window and not her.

“Just get the really messed up part in the back.”

“OK, turn.”

The hum of the trimmer felt kind of nice on her damp skin; that and the way he combed his fingers over her fuzz after, even though the next spritz got her free of snibbles, would have without his intervention.

For the conditioner, he let that set and combed her out, streaking the remains of her bangs down her forehead, then rubbing them away from her eyebrows when they got too close.   

Tyreen sighed up at him.

Since she caught his eyes, he did manage something resembling a smile and his fingers dragged against her for the last round of rinsing.

With him and her both patted dry, she finally got hoisted back to a sitting position, her hair dropping once more down her cheeks before she reached up, scruffing it out and sneezing by some coincidence.

Dr. Black stifled a laugh.

Dr. Black

Dr. Black was a small, fat woman with a crooked jaw and a crooked smile and a penchant for wearing hoop skirts with no panties underneath. 

-Says her full name is Calvin Decker Black

-Has at least one ex-husband and is possibly using his name???

-Probably not a doctor, but close enough

-Good at working with what she has; absolute kludge queen

--Has an affection for out-of-date equipment, but can run almost any test off of her ECHO.  Somehow.  Don’t ask. ---Speaking of which, carries the Twin’s genomes around on hers and has heavily notated them.  Heaven forbid that got into the wrong hands.

---Recognizable ECHO device with a formal Delft print

--Sometimes uses medical equipment for secondary purposes, i.e. pointing with a sound, employing that nice steel vomit tray as a casserole

-Cheerful, enthusiastic, curious, bit of a spazz, insensible to gore.

--It’s possible to get her and Mouthpiece going at the same time.  Mind your eardrums.  

-Loves food.  Pretty good cook.  Rather more fond of food other people have prepared.

-No, she doesn’t eat her patients! Any human flesh stored in her fridge is from other people, you silly.

--Yeah, I can’t in good conscience recommend her ‘famous breakfast scramble’.

-What’s she doing in the CoV? She’s the person who walked Troy through patching up Tyreen after Satellite.  They couldn’t leave her running around after that.  Apparently joined their caravan without complaint and has been riding around with them ever since.  

-Has been known to dress up and give sermons or go out in the field for negotiations.  

--Ugh.  Torture takes so long.  Don’t make her do that.  We could have steak instead.  

-Is mostly still around for Troy mending purposes nowadays.

[macgyvermedical]

Email From My Parents’ Former Chiropractor, a Medical Review

I had to read that and now so do you. But guess what? I also get to tear it apart line by line with extreme prejudice. And not the bad kind. At. All. 

This went out to probably close to a thousand people.

People will die because of this email.

“We have been keeping up with the true data from the CDC and WHO that is giving very accurate information on this virus.“

I’m relatively neutral on this. The CDC and WHO are probably some of the most official sources. They’re a little behind (1-2 days for WHO, and both only update every 24 hours), but overall no one would fault him for citing them as sources. Here’s the source I’ve been using.

My biggest problem with that beginning is that the sentence structure is... alarmingly presidential.

“First, this is not a new virus. It's been known to cause respiratory problems since the 1960's.”

The group of viruses called “coronavirus” have been identified since 1965. But there are hundreds of unique viruses in this group, and 7 of them infect humans at very different severities. The most recent one, identified in December 2019 and now named SARS-CoV-2, is definitely a coronavirus, but it’s also definitely not one we’ve seen before.

“So far, the new coronavirus has led to more than 100,000 illnesses and more than 3,000 deaths worldwide.”

I mean, he’s technically right that it’s “more than” 100,000 cases. But this email went out today, when confirmed cases were a lot closer to 784,400 and deaths were 37,780 (see source above). Even the WHO numbers today are 693,224 and 33,106 respectively. So my best guess is he was writing this on March 7th (per WHO sitreps) and didn’t bother to update it before sending it out March 30th.

“In the U.S. alone, the flu has caused an estimated 34 million illnesses, 350,000 hospitalizations and 20,000 deaths this season... Per the CDC data, the flu virus as far more contagious and deadlier.”

This info is also substantially out of date. Currently, these numbers are 38 mil, 400,000, and 24,000 respectively.

I have to say, I did fall for the corona vs flu false equivalency once upon a time, but I’ve learned and grown a lot since then. We’re prepared for the number of hospital beds we need for (seasonal-not-pandemic) flu. We know how fast spreads and we have a vaccine that offers at least partial protection from it. We have widespread testing for it. We’re relatively comfortable with it’s severity and mortality rate.

But you heard it here last: with the data we have right now, none of those things apply to covid-19. We don’t have the beds, ventilators, or PPE to take all of it’s excessive illness on, which leads to higher mortality rates. It's more contagious than flu (infecting 2-2.5 people per infected person, vs seasonal flu’s 1.3). We don’t have a vaccine or significant natural immunity. We don’t have adequate testing, so we don’t know enough to know if anything we do know is close to correct. All of that makes it much, much worse than seasonal flu despite numbers.

“What to do? First, all patients are responsible for their own immune system.”

I mean, sure, okay, you have the responsibility to make the best choices you can for you in the situation that you’re in. That’s fair. And generally people do. But saying you’re responsible for your own immune system seems to imply that if you get covid-19, it’s your own dang fault because you weren’t responsible enough?

If that stresses you out, rest easy in that you don’t control nearly as much of your health status (look up the Whitehall Studies) and immune status (look up the Pittsburgh Cold Studies and a paper that came out of them titled “Types of Stressors That Increase Susceptibility to the Common Cold in Healthy Adults” by Cohen et al, 1998), as people like to think you do.

“When a bacteria or virus enter the body, your bodies natural immune system will attack this foreign body by creating an antibody that will destroy these foreign viruses or bacteria's (sic)...”

Okay, sure, that’s not a bad explanation.

“...So, when someone isolates themselves, the virus will still be "out there" and vaccinations will not stop the spread of any virus. A vaccination will force your body to make antibodies, which is the body's natural response to a virus. In other words, the virus will populate the world.“

I’ll be honest, I don’t entirely understand what he means with this passage, but I’ll give it my best shot.

If you never come into contact with a virus, it’s certainly true that you won’t ever get antibodies from it naturally. You also won’t get sick, and won’t have the opportunity to spread it to other people. That’s, like... the entire point of isolation.

But if a vaccine exists, that gives you the opportunity to have the best of both worlds- you get to make antibodies, and you never have to get sick! Score!

And if a lot of people have the antibodies, the illness can’t spread through the population (”herd” or “community” immunity), meaning that very few people get sick. You don’t have to be exposed to the virus after being vaccinated in order to become immune. The vaccine is literally the part of the virus the body needs to be exposed to to learn how to create antibodies.

He then goes on to list the ways in which you can build a strong immune system to fight covid-19. These suggestions include:

“Eat Healthy Natural Foods: These foods have the vitamins and nutriatiants (sic) your body needs to build its immune system.”

Sure, healthy food is good for you. No one’s arguing with you there.

“Get Adjusted: Every tissue in the body depends 100% nerve supply from the brain. These nerves carry all the cells information to repair and regenerate injured tissue. When the nervous systems is interfered with, this communication system between the brain and the tissue cells is weakened, therefore causing decreased immune response.”

This isn’t wrong so much as poorly worded. The brain (and vagus nerve) is involved in healing injured or infected tissues, particularly as part of modulating inflammatory response and eliciting reactions like vomiting, mucous production, and coughing to get rid of irritating substances. The inflammatory response kicks off the healing process, and we know that if the vagus nerve has been cut or in some other way interfered with, there is not as much inflammation across the board (which is why vagus nerve simulators have been shown to work against arthritis).

I’m not sure if there’s literature on chiropractic care improving this, but I certainly don’t think it’s impossible.

May I, however, suggest an editor at this point?

“Sleep 7-9 hours per night: Cellular regeneration happens mostly a night. Drink enough water: Dehydrate causes stress in the body, that will weakened the immune system.“

Great!

“Take natural supplements: These will help your immune systems, if you are not getting enough nutrients and vitamins through your healthy diet.”

Supplements generally aren’t necessary for most people (unless they have a diagnosed deficiency), but if you just like taking a multivitamin no one’s stopping you. Just don’t go overboard.

“P.S. Our team at [redacted] Chiropractic is super healthy. We follow the above guidelines!! We are asking anyone who may be ill, to stay home, or even more important get adjusted in our office [emphasis added]. Just let us know you are not feeling well and we will get you in and out with minimal contact with others. We take pride in cleanliness with all our patients. Hope to see you soon.”

I just... felt the need to leave that last paragraph in it’s entirety. If you’re all the way at the end of this post, you really deserve to read it again and let it sink in that he’s ASKING SOMEONE TO GO OUT IN PUBLIC WITH COVID-19 IN THE MIDDLE OF A PANDEMIC, IN AN AREA WHERE A “SHELTER IN PLACE” ORDER HAS BEEN ISSUED.

As medical facilities, chiropractic offices are allowed to stay open. I don’t mind this generally. A lot of people rely on chiropractic care for pain control and I would never want to take that away from them if there was another way.

But I work at a doctor’s office (sometimes). We are all but refusing to see patients in the office unless absolutely necessary to comply with social distancing rules and conserve PPE. If I were a chiropractor right now, I would be limiting my services to emergencies or people who really can’t get along without it, and encouraging people to NOT COME IN IF THEY KNOW OR SUSPECT THEY ARE SICK HOLY CRAP MAN STAP.

That’s like, the bare, bare minimum.

Thank you for reading.

[fairie-gothmother]

In The Shadow of Starlight, Part 6: Gut Instincts

First part: The Fall

Previous: The Sheep Will Flock

How long had it been? Days, weeks? Troy lost track of time while he’d been slowly starving to death. Since his excommunication, each moment blurred into the next as whatever he possessed of the leech power fed off of his own body. Finally, he had some relief. He couldn’t help but be grateful for the scientist’s carelessness during the lab experiments. That was the first time he’d taken from any siren apart from his twin. It felt very different. This energy was more restless than he was used to. Maybe this what Ty meant by saying she could taste what she leeched.

Now that Troy had some extra juice, he felt incredible. Even after Lilith dumped him in Sanctuary’s garage on the bottom deck, he was amped. And what did Troy do when he was hyped up and left to his own devices? He beatboxed. The Calypso bobbed his head and swayed to the groove, bustling around the room and inspecting the equipment. He had to admit, it wasn’t a bad setup. He knew everyone was talking about him, probably deciding where to eject him into space, but he wished they’d hurry it up already.

He paused when a noise from nearby threw off his rhythm. A beep came again from a cluttered desk. With no regard to the desk owner’s privacy, he opened one of the drawers to find an Echo device inside. It was an older model, but obviously still in working condition. Troy glanced over his shoulder and scanned the room for cameras before putting the Echo on silent mode and slipping it into his pocket.

“Hey.”

Troy reeled around, startled from the voice and saw the blue haired siren descending the stairs into the workshop.

“Relax,” the sapphire siren said. She wiped the dust off a tool box and casually leaned against it. “Don't look so guilty. I, uh… Sorry for phase-chucking you across Tannis’s lab. You alright?” 

Oh. He wasn't busted after all. Still, Troy couldn’t help but be suspicious. No way she cared to chat. Probably cared even less about hurting him. A golden canine glinted through his lopsided smile. “I did ask for it, didn’t I? But yeah, I’m good. No hard feelings, Meg.”

“It’s Maya,” she said, obviously annoyed. “Get it right next time. Okay, Trent?”

Excuse me? Troy furrowed his brow and glared at her. She wore a playful smirk and raised her eyebrows as if daring him to correct her. Interesting. She was messing with him.

“Alright then, Maya. Let’s hear it already,” he folded his arms across his chest. “Are you guys gonna launch me into the nearest sun? Or does the scientist want me as a lab rat for unethical tests? Whatever it is, please don’t tell me it’s life in prison. That’s boring. I deserve something creative.”

Maya shook her head. “Oh, no. You don’t get off that easy. You’re still helping us fight the COV.”

Troy cocked his to one side, analyzing the siren in a skeptical stare. As hard he looked for the smallest hint that she was full of shit, her body language suggested she was telling the truth. He huffed, “So what, no punishment then? I figured the Firehawk would want this handsome mug served on a silver platter.”

Maya gave a one shouldered shrug. “You said you didn’t leech Tannis on purpose. Sometimes powers are weird like that. With some training, you might be able to control it.”

Easy for her to say. If only it was as simple as meditating on a mountain to master his broken siren powers. “Ah, right. You’re from Athenas. I’m sure those monks taught you all about control and restraint, great power is great responsibility, blah-blah-blah. But it’s pretty safe to say that I’m a special case. Clearing my chakras isn’t gonna do it for me.” 

“It would at least help with that attitude of yours.”

Troy began pacing and brought his flesh hand to his chin. “I don’t know. It wouldn’t be considered very zen if I accidentally ended up leeching you. Then again, you might taste like chamomile tea.” He cast a half-hearted sideways glance in Maya’s direction.

Maya rapidly drummed her fingernails on the tool box and said, “I take it back. I’m not sorry to phaselocking you.”

“That’s what I thought,” Troy snickered. “Be honest. How many times a day do you phaselock stuff just because you can?”

Maya closed her eyes and clasped her hands in front of her, mimicking a monk’s prayer pose. “I take a great amount of pride in my self discipline so if you must know-” She raised her left hand, and her fingers sparked. A ball peen hammer levitated from a workbench and hovered across the room into Maya’s hand. “I do it all the time.”

Troy scoffed. “Show off.”

The two were locked in a stare down. It wasn’t clear who cracked first, but neither of them could keep a straight face for long. A gentle blue glow emitted from Maya’s siren marks. Troy’s smile dropped as he looked down to his left hand, noting the harsh red light of his own marks.

“You really didn’t know that would happen to Tannis, did you?” the blue haired woman asked softly.

“No,” he answered honestly. “I’m still trying to get a grip on everything myself.” All his life he’d been broken. His parents treated him as a burden, although they never said it outright. He was constantly sick and needed extra help when he struggled with the use of only one arm. And Tyreen never considered him an equal. Even as one of the twin gods, he wasn’t seen in the same light as the God Queen. And now that he knew he possessed siren power without knowing it, his whole outlook was in question. What did it mean? What other parts of himself remained untapped?

Maya said, “Even if it’s only half, you’re still a siren. It’s not an easy life. Sirens have always been feared, hunted, extorted… worshipped.” Troy met her blue-gray eyes for a moment, then redirected his gaze to the wall. “We’re just trying to find our place.”

Troy’s heart skipped a beat. We?

“Yeah,” he said in a voice just above a whisper. He snapped out of it and quipped, “But, you gotta admit. Life would sure be a lot easier if I could phaselock grapes into my mouth all day.” 

Maya scrunched up her face and flung an empty can at Troy, who reflexively caught it in his mechanical hand with a metallic clang. He waved it, shook his head, and grinned at her.

“Nice catch, wise-ass. Now, get in the drop pod,” Maya teased.

That tiny thing? Troy had used porta-potties with more legroom than that. “You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Troy groaned. The siren smiled wickedly as she held the hatch open and ushered him inside. He sighed knowing the ride back to Pandora would not be a comfortable one.

~~~

On a normal day, Ellie was a delight. Today was not a normal day considering her garage was used as solitary confinement for one of the most hated influencers in the galaxy. Maya recalled her saying, “He’s about as welcome as an outhouse breeze.” It took a while to convince the mechanic that her garage was just as she left it. Eventually, she cooled her boiling blood down to a simmer.

If Maya was being honest, she didn’t actually believe that Troy hadn’t messed with something. Call it a gut feeling. The same gut feeling that knew Ava would be a siren someday. The same gut feeling that told her to go talk to Troy just now. Her gut hadn’t lied to her yet so she didn’t question it. The ex-God King was absolutely still on thin ice, but she was willing to give him a chance. Maybe he just needed some guidance. Either that or he was a hopeless, cocky little shit.

Hydraulics hissed from the rising door as Maya entered the ship’s bridge. The orbital view of Pandora loomed outside the windows of Sanctuary’s observation deck. Crew members clacked away on keyboards at their posts. Lilith and Tannis stopped mid-conversation when they noticed Maya approaching.

“Troy’s on his way back to base,” Maya announced, slightly out of breath from rushing up three flights of stairs. “Cramer should be waiting for him when he lands. What did I miss?” she asked when she noticed neither of them would look her in the eye.

“Sorry I didn’t tell you about Tannis sooner. I decided the fewer people that knew about it, the better. These days, being a siren puts a target on your back,” Lilith apologized. 

The revelation that the two of them were keeping Tannis’s siren powers a secret was shocking to say the least, but Maya wasn’t upset. She understood. Her own siren powers had been used by others to threaten an entire planet’s population. “I get it. I’m glad to have another siren on our side.” Maya smiled at the scientist, who awkwardly returned the gesture. It was cute when she made an effort.

“How are you, Tannis?” Maya asked.

“I'm fine. No need to fuss,” Tannis said. “It was actually interesting to experience the leech power first hand.”

Lilith knitted her brows. “Troy could have killed you. We still don’t know his intentions. Who knows what other abilities he’s hiding.”

Maya recalled the look of shock on Troy’s face while he held Tannis’s wrist, and the way he kept his distance from the two sirens afterwards as they processed what the hell just happened. After the conversation she’d just had with the Calypso, Maya felt the need to voice her opinion. “It seems like he doesn't understand his abilities either. I really don’t think he leeched Tannis on purpose.”

The commander was unconvinced. “Even if that’s true, we can’t underestimate what he’s capable of. This is still Troy Calypso.” Lilith stared out of the window at Pandora below. “For now, he’s useful to us. We’re going to need all the power we can get. It’s about time to make our move on the Holy Broadcast Center. There’s been a lot of activity lately. I’ve got a feeling something big is about to go down.”

Claptrap’s eardrum piercing voice called from the command console, “Incoming transmission!”

Speak of the devil. Maya’s heart sank as Tyreen’s smug face appeared on the overhead monitors. She was beginning to wonder if the COV had tapped their coms. Their timing was unusually coincidental.

“Hey, Lil!” the cult leader said in a singsong voice. “How’s life been as a non-siren normie human? Does it suck? I bet it sucks. Not gonna lie, these powers of yours are pretty sweet.” Lilith was seething. Tyreen had a knack for getting under her skin. The Calypso continued, “But hey, you don’t have to take my word for it. You know someone who knows all about my Firehawk upgrade. Just ask my brother.”

Damn. Word had finally reached her. Now Tyreen knew the Crimson Raiders were harboring her disowned twin.

“By the way, did that traitorous freak happen to mention the fact that he stole something from me? Can you believe it? Yoinked it right out from under me. I don’t want your grubby normie fingerprints on my stuff so if he shared it with you, I’m gonna need it back.”

Lilith calmly replied, “I assumed you’d know better since you were the one who dumped him in the middle of nowhere. He wasn’t exactly in any condition to exchange gifts when we found him. He’d been stripped and unarmed.”

Tyreen paused before shrieking with laughter. “She said unarmed! Please tell me you meant to make that pun.” She wiped a tear from her eye. “I needed that. No big deal. It’s a matter of time until I find it anyway. Well, I’ve got places to be. Big milestone event coming up. You’re gonna love it. Oh, and tell Troy I said hi before he runs outta juice and shrivels up. 'Kay? Laterz!” The Calypso winked before the feed was cut.

Maya’s fists tingled with the urge to meet that punchable face. She hollered back at the empty screen, “Troy will be the one kicking your door in, you cocky bitch!”

Claptrap said something about the video transmission’s crappy production value, but no one was listening. Lilith grit her teeth. “Using Troy was the plan, but that’s only if we can keep him alive long enough to get there.”

Maya squeezed her fists tighter, causing her fingernails to dig into her palms. Tyreen was always one step ahead of them. She couldn’t care less that her brother was in the Raider’s custody. Because of Troy’s dependence on her, she never even saw him as a threat.

Tannis chimed, “I have a theory, but you aren’t going to like it, Lilith.” All eyes turned to the scientist. “It is apparent that Troy cannot absorb the life force from living things through touch alone, with the exception of sirens. According to my experiments, it’s highly plausible that he can gain the same effect by ingesting it directly via anthropophagy or hematophagy.”

The room was silent apart from the humming of the spaceship. Maya blinked and said, “Tannis, no one understands you when you talk like that. In layman’s terms, please?”

Tannis sighed in disappointment but explained, “Troy should be able to regain energy from cannibalism or drinking blood.”

~~~

Sorry it took so long for an update. I’ve been working through a serious creative block. Showing my girl Maya some love in this part. This was a little shorter than usual, but I hope it was still entertaining. As always, thanks for reading my garbage! <3

[shera-dnd]

Remember Me

So this came from an interesting little conversation on the Glitra Discord and now I turned into a fic

I know the action itself isn’t very detailed, but I kinda just wanted to focus on the ANGST!!!

Also I’m considering what I should write next. Do I write the fluffier follow up to this or do I just write some good clitra? I’ll think about that later, for now enjoy this mess

They were tired of fighting, of arguing, of losing, of being alone, that is why they were being so nice to each other right now, that is why they were so open, why they were always touching, always so close, at least that is what Catra told herself. They were tired and alone and that was the only reason why. It didn’t matter how much she questioned herself every time she woke up clinging to Glimmer and feeling more well rested than she had felt in months.

It had started with a touch. They didn’t talk much for these first few days, all they did was cry in their own corners of the cell, until someone reached out to someone, until a hand reached for a shoulder. They still cried, but at least they didn’t cry alone.

Those first days had been difficult, but things had grown a little better by now. Glimmer may have lost her sparkly magic, but she still had Weaver’s spells. Catra may have lost...a lot, but she could still fight, they could escape this, they just needed a plan.

“New plan then” Glimmer offered for the nth time that day and Catra rolled her eyes, expecting another suicidal plan “What if we sabotage the engines and crash the ship into the planet”

“We would die” Catra sighed and shook her head, though she continue to lean against Glimmer’s side - she hardly left it these days - “Painfully” she added

“I can teleport us out” She remarked

“With what magic, Glimmer?” She asked, tired of having to be the voice of reason every time.

“Once I get in range of the Moonstone I should get my magic back and teleport us both out” She explained “I’m sure of it” Catra got up so she could look Glimmer in the eyes, but still refused to let go of her. As if she would disappear as soon as they stopped touching

“How?!” Catra asked, her voice louder this time and carrying more than a little worry “How do you know we won’t just get ourselves killed?” ‘get you killed’

“I just know it. Trust me on this okay?” She pleaded “We can make this work” She clung to Catra too and gave her a reassuring smile.

“Fine” Catra sighed,  unable to argue with her “But we still have an army of hordaks between us and the engine room” Catra reminded her. They had used a spell to scout around the ship and no matter where they looked, Prime’s armies awaited in number.

Glimmer pondered this for a moment

“We need a distraction” she declared “One of us starts trouble and gets Prime’s attention and the other uses the distraction to sabotage the engines. Even if one of us gets captured distracting them, as soon as we get close enough to the ground I can just get us out of here”

“Yeah, one small problem there” Catra started, still not completely sold on this “Prime can read minds, remember. If he captures one of us the other is doomed”

Glimmer groaned. Another plan scrapped. At this rate they would have better luck just waiting for Adora and the other princesses to show up and save their asses, it was not like either of them had much pride left to take a hit anyway, but Catra still hated the feeling of having to be saved. There had to be a way to make Glimmer’s plan work, even if Prime got them, maybe if they got him to send his troops somewhere else, but how could they trick-

“How much did Shadow Weaver teach you again?” Catra asked, her voice and body tense now. She didn’t like this plan, but it could be their best chance.

“I got a hang of most of her spells” Glimmer answered, a little confused by the sudden question

“What about memory magic?” The words felt heavy in her mouth

“I’m not gonna just rewrite your memories like that, Catra”

“You just make me remember a different plan and then when Prime catches me he’ll send his troops a completely different way” Catra explained, she knew Glimmer would hate this idea as much as she did, but it was the best chance they had, so she left very little room for argument “it’s either that or hope your friends show up soon and save the day, but I’m pretty sure they got their hands full on the surface”

Glimmer took a deep breath. This was not something to be done on a whim

“Are you sure about it?” Glimmer asked, her voice was firm and her eyes looked deep into Catra’s. Catra flinched under the intensity of her stare, she was pretty sure of her decision a second ago, but now her uncertainties had returned full force. Still she nodded “You know that if I do this you…” 

“I’ll believe you’ve betrayed me and left me to die” Catra completed,  too aware of that fact “We’ll just have to live with it until you set my memories back”

“Catra, I can’t-”

“Yes, you can and you have to!” Catra interrupted, this was their best chance out of this shithole. She couldn’t just leave Glimmer trapped here forever, she had to do something “Just get it over with so we can both get back home” So Glimmer could back home, Catra didn’t exactly have one to return to anymore.

Maybe she could ask Glimmer to rewrite that too. Give her a childhood, make her life happy, make her a good person. That idea sounded more tempting than it should be. She had to focus on the plan, foolish dreams could wait for now.

“Fine, I’ll do it” Glimmer answered, sounding dejected. Glimmer approached Catra and held her face in her hands, it was soft and tender touch, yet it brought no comfort “Ready?”

Catra nodded.

___

Catra wiped away the stream of tears from her face. That was odd, she didn’t remember crying. Well, that didn’t matter, what mattered now was preparing for their big escape. Just book it to the escape pods. They didn’t have to know how to pilot those, just jump in, hit a button and hope for the best. It was a simple plan, but so much could go wrong. Catra had been stuck with a feeling of sinking dread as she considered more and more ways this could fail. 

“Glimmer” Catra eventually called. This was a stupid decision, but not the worse she’d make today, she was sure.

“Y-yeah?” She asked, her voice weak and tired. Did Catra miss something?

“I…” Catra started, the words getting caught on her throat “If we don’t make it”

“We will make it, Catra” Glimmer assured her, holding her hands.

“But if we don’t” Catra began moving closer to Glimmer “I just want you to know that I-” Glimmer seemed to pale, visibly flinching back and letting go of Catra’s hands

“You can tell me when we’re out of here” She interrupted, too fast and too loud. Catra immediately regretted that stupid decision.

“Fine then” Catra sighed “Ready when you are, Sparkles”

In a few moments they were both running through the corridors of Prime’s ship, running away from all his clones, dodging lasers and doing a lot better than Catra expected. This plan could actually work. That was until Horde Prime showed up.

His presence seemed to make the clones more coordinated, her aim more precise, he issued no command and fired no weapon, but just by being there things had taken a turn for the worse. She dove around a corner to get some cover and landed on top of something very soft.

For a second it was if time had stopped. Laser bolts froze in the air as Catra’s brain processed how close she was to Glimmer just now. Sure, she had been close to Glimmer nearly every moment since they arrived here, but never like this, never with their faces this close to one another. It may have been the adrenaline or how fast her heart was beating or the risk of imminent death, but right now Glimmer looked almost mesmerizing.

“I’m so sorry” Glimmer said, holding back tears. Catra hadn’t noticed the hand against her chest and the glyph that had formed there. Next thing she knew she was sent flying right back into the clone army. A boot holding her to the floor as she watched Glimmer leave her behind.

No no no, please no. This can’t be happening, this can’t be real, not again, please! This has to be a dream, please let this be a dream.

She felt prime lifting her up, followed by the terribly familiar feeling of someone prodding through her mind. She didn’t care anymore, she was too stunned to fight back.

“Such a foolish little plan” Prime mocked “Take her back to her cell and send troops after the other one” He commanded.

Of course Glimmer had left her, Catra thought to herself, she just needed someone to use as bait for her plan, she just needed an emotional play thing so she could feel better about herself again. Catra was just a complete idiot for thinking Glimmer ever even gave a shit. Catra was just another fucking tool once again. Why did she ever believe otherwise?

Catra was flung back into her cell, making no effort to get off the floor. That was it, there was no way out anymore and no one would come back to save her, all she could to was lay there and cry, cry until there were no more tears, cry and scream until she forgot how to feel anything else but this misery and hate that filled her heart. 

A bright flash of pink surrounded her and she clawed at it frantically. Glimmer was sent flying against a back wall, with a cut on her arm. Before she could react, Catra was already on her, wildly clawing at her.

“Why!? Why!? Why!?” She screamed, punctuating each word with a swipe of her claws.

“Didn’t-’” Glimmer began, but a cut to the face shut her up. Catra didn’t care why. She just wanted her to pay.

“I trusted you!” cut “I cared for you!” cut “I thought you were my friend!” cut, cut, cut. 

“Didn’t know you had it in you!” Glimmer shouted and Catra stopped, memories came rushing back as the trigger phrase dispelled the magic in her mind. What had she done?

“Glimmer!” She called, jumping back at the sight of everything she had just done “I didn’t...I didn’t mean…”

“It’s okay” Glimmer assured her, even though she was shaking and her face and arms were now covered in bloody cuts “Nothing Adora can’t fix” She put a hand on Catra’s shoulder and in a flash they were back in the Whispering Woods.

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry” she kept muttering as she held onto Glimmer. Still in shock after all that had happened. She knew now that her betrayal wasn’t real, that it was all an act, but it still stung, she still felt the pain of being thrown away by another person she loved.

“It’s okay, it’s okay. I promise” Glimmer repeated softly, with a shaky smile on her face and tears of pain in her eyes. Catra did this, the guilt adding to the turmoil of emotions inside her, she felt like she was about to vomit. Noticing the struggle on Catra’s face, Glimmer moved closer to hold her “Everything is gonna be fine. We’ll just go back to Brightmoon, Adora will heal me and everything is gonna be fine” She assured her.

“Please, never do this again, please” Catra pleaded, barely holding back her tears

“I promise” Glimmer said, holding Catra close. She flinched at the pain, but still held her as pink light enveloped them “I’ll never leave you again”

And with flash of sparkles, they were both finally home.

[bangtan-sonyeonddaeng]

Jungkook Scenario| You are a cover artist and get invited to Seoul to collab with him

“Ah hyung y/n is releasing another song! She just announced it on her twitter its coming out later today. I wonder what it will be this time!” Jungkook was practically bouncing in his seat with excitement, much to the displeasure of his makeup artist who keeps having to redo his eyeshadow every time he moves. 

“Ah your girlfriend posted a new song? Is it a cover or a song of her own?”

“It looks like a cov- HEY! She’s not my girlfriend Tae what are you talking about?”

“Jungkook you have such heart eyes for that girl it’s not even funny.”  Jimin chimes in.

“Yeah Jungkookie it’s pretty obvious you have the biggest crush on her. Why haven’t you talked to her yet?”

“What am I supposed to say Tae? ‘Oh hey I’ve been listening to your music for a year now and I have the biggest crush on you date me?’” 

“I mean you don’t have to be so forward but..”

“Shush! Let me just have my crush in peace okay?” He sighs heavily while looking at your post again. He doesn’t know why he suddenly decides to leave a comment underneath your tweet. 

Can’t wait! Is it a cover or an original song? -JK

He’s not expecting an answer back, you get tons of replies on your tweets everyday. So imagine his shock when a notification dings on his phone and he sees that you actually replied back to him. He jumps in the chair again and is scolded by the makeup artist for the 10th time. He blushes in embarrassment.

“Sorry noona.” He offers. He quickly opens up his phone and reads the reply from you.

It’s a cover. A song you should know well :) 

“Jimin?”

“Yeah Jungkook?”

“Am I dreaming right now?” 

“What do you mean?”

“Y/n actually replied to me. Oh my gosh I am fanboying so hard right now.” Jimin gets up from the couch and peers over his shoulder, reading the reply back from you.

“Ah no you aren’t dreaming. I wonder what she meant by a song you should know well..”

“Maybe it’s one of our songs!” 

“Ah you’re probably right. You won’t know until after our concert tonight though.”Jungkook visibly deflates as he sinks down in his chair.

“You’re right. Ugh this sucks.”

“Patience Jungkook. As soon as the show is over you can listen in the car on the way back.”

*****************************

The concert is over and Jungkook quickly runs over to his phone and sees that you posted a link to your cover with a message with it.

Hey everyone! Here is a new cover for you. I hope I did the song justice. I feel kind of intimidated covering Euphoria when Jungkook literally sounds like an angel ;~; but I hope you enjoy it! 

Jungkook nearly drops his phone again when he sees that you did a cover of his song. He immediately clicks on the link and he hears an acoustic guitar starting off playing the melody, the second he hears those opening lines his heart is absolutely melting. He thinks you sound absolutely beautiful and your voice makes him wonder if angels walk among the earth. He replays it at least 5x on the way back to their dorms.

“Jungkook you should invite her to come to to Seoul and do a song with you.”

“I’m sorry what? Are you crazy? Why would I do that?”

“Because clearly she is a fan of you too, and your voices would sound really good together. Look at all the comments on her new song a lot of our fans and her own are wanting a collab between the two of you.” He scrolls through the comments and realizes that Hoseok is right. 

“Should I just DM her or something? How does this work.. I don’t even know what I am doing oh god. Hyung help.” Hoseok laughs before he takes out his phone and messages you from their official account.

Hey, y/n! Your cover of Euphoria was really beautiful. I am pretty sure I have heard it at least 7x now because Jungkook has it on repeat. Anyway he’s way too shy to ask you so I am taking the initiative here to formally ask you to come to Seoul to make a song with him. He’s been a fan of yours for a really long time and he would love the opportunity to sing with you. -Hobi

Hoseok smiles to himself as he sets his phone down,

“Hobi what did you do?” Hoseok says nothing in return, just smirks at the younger. Jungkook opens up their twitter messages and sees what he wrote to you.

“Did you have to expose me like that?!”

****************************

The last thing you were expecting after posting that cover was to be invited to Seoul to collaborate with the man you had idolized since the start of his career. Jungkook was everything you wanted to be and more. He was such a talented vocalist, he could dance, and he had so much love in his heart. Not to mention you had a massive crush on him. You couldn’t help but find his smile endearing, his sense of humor was exactly like yours as well. You screamed into your pillow when you saw the message from Hoseok on your phone. After you allowed yourself some brief moments of fangirling you messaged them back.

I would be honored! I have been a huge fan of you guys for the longest time now. Wow this feels like a dream come true really. When would you want me there?

You wait patiently for a reply, not taking your eyes off your phone until it lights up with a new message.

Hey! It’s Jungkook now. Um honestly if it isn’t too soon we have a break in our schedule in a few days. 

Sounds good to me. I’ll see you soon Jungkook! Can’t wait! 

****************************

You step off the plane a few days later and spot someone holding a sign with your name on it. You walk over to the person who gestures for you to get into the backseat of a rather expensive car. You aren’t expecting to be met with eye crinkles and a bunny smile when you open the door and it catches you off guard.

“Sorry! I didn’t mean to surprise you. I just wanted to get started as soon as possible. I was too anxious to wait.” You can’t help but find him endearing, knowing that he was just as excited to get started as you were made your heart flutter. You told yourself to calm down, that it’s just strictly professional and you needed to get your little crush under control. You sit next to him and offer your hand out and he takes it gladly. 

“I guess we should introduce ourselves first though? I’m y/n as you already know. It’s nice to meet you Jungkook. I would love to get started on our song right away.” He’s still holding onto your hand and when you glance at your hands he quickly pulls away, a blush forming on his cheeks.

“It’s nice to meet you too y/n. We can drop you off at your hotel so you can unpack and then start working on some lyrics?”

“Sounds good to me.” You two spend the rest of the day, sheets of paper and your guitar sat out on the bed as you both come up with ideas for a melody and lyrics to the song. You glance up at the clock and notice that it’s getting quite late. You stretch and it doesn’t slip past Jungkook’s notice when your shirt rides up slightly exposing your stomach. He quickly looks away, willing his heart to calm down. Meeting you has done nothing but strengthen his crush on you and now he was starting to develop real feelings. You were so kind and nice to him, you made him laugh quite a few times as he did for you. He instantly fell in love with the sound of your laughter and realized he would do anything to keep that smile on your face and that scared him. You probably were seeing this as just a friendly collaboration between artists and nothing more. He doesn’t realize he’s zoned out lost in his thoughts until you are waving your hand in front of his face.

“Jungkook? It’s getting late you should probably head back now.” He glances at the clock and realizes it’s 10 at night.”

“Oh.. shoot you’re right I should get going. Umm.. what time did you want to meet up tomorrow?”

“How about you take me out for breakfast?” He stutters at your words unsure how to take them.

“Y-you want to go out with me tomorrow morning?”

“I mean I’ve never been to Seoul before. I want to explore the city but I have no idea where anything is or where all the cool places are. I would love it if you were my tour guide? We worked for hours today it wouldn’t hurt to take some time off and just have fun now would it?” He stares at you blinking rapidly.

“Unless you don’t want to..” 

“No! I mean, I want to. I’d love to take you out.” You smile at that and you both work out the details before he leaves. He rushes home and throws the door open, to find all of the members sitting in the living room waiting for him.

“Ah Jungkook! How did it go?” Jimin jumps off the couch and is immediately walking towards him, eager to hear the details.

“She’s.. amazing. God I think I actually have feelings for her what am I supposed to do. She’s so sweet and funny. And she wants me to take her out tomorrow.” 

“Aww Jungkook looks like a love struck teenager look at the blush on his cheeks!” Taehyung teases him and he can’t even be bothered to feel irritated because he’s just so happy that he’s going out with you tomorrow. 

“I mean you never know what will happen unless you try right? If things go well tomorrow just be honest and tell her how you feel. She’d be an idiot not to like you too.” Namjoon offers. Jungkook thanks him for the advice and then lays down, he tosses and turns for a while, feeling nervous about tomorrow but also excited. It isn’t until he turns on your cover of Euphoria that he instantly drifts off to sleep. 

****************************

The next morning you spend way too long fussing over how you look. You want to make a good impression on Jungkook. You quickly found after spending so much time with him yesterday that your little celebrity crush was developing into something more. He was way cuter in person and his smile sent your heart dropping into your stomach and butterflies fluttering against your rib cage. It worried you. You were uncertain how he felt about you and were afraid if you confessed to him he would just laugh at you. You were mentally scolding yourself for suggesting you two go out this morning, thinking that he probably just saw this as a professional relationship only. You were still scolding yourself when you heard knocking on your hotel room door. You open the door and the sight of him nearly takes your breath away. Even when he’s dressed so casually and has a mask covering half his face he still is breath taking. 

“Um.. y/n you.. you look really pretty.” You blush and smile at him.

“Thanks Jungkook. You look pretty handsome yourself you know?” You can see the tips of his ears turning red as you close the door behind you and you both head out into downtown. You eat breakfast together, chatting happily and getting to know each other better. He takes you out sight seeing, and although he would never admit it out loud he spent more time looking at you and your reactions than the sights he was taking you to see. It’s the end of the night and he’s standing outside your hotel room, neither of you wanting to say goodbye yet. 

“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

“Yeah, we can keep working on our song tomorrow. It’s coming along really nicely and I think after today I have some new inspiration for lyrics and a melody. I had a really great time Jungkook. Thank you.” You reach out and squeeze his hand before opening your door.

“Goodnight.” The second the door shuts he is snapped out of his daze. Before he can stop himself he knocks on you door. You open it and look at him, confusion on your face.

“Is everything okay Jungkook?”

“I just wanted to ask you something. Just so we’re both on the same page. Was today a date, or just me being a good host and showing you around Seoul? ” You furrow your brows as you think how to answer him, not wanting to give away your feelings.

“Did you want it to be a date?” He rubs the back of his head sheepishly, unable to meet your eyes. 

“I mean.. Um.. Gosh this is going to make things so awkward if you don’t feel the same way.” He’s mumbling and you are barely able to make out what he says. You can tell he’s nervous so you decide to swallow your fears and just be honest with him.

“I mean I was kind of hoping you saw it that way.” His eyes snap up and his gaze meet your own. “I kind of have had a crush on you for a while.. but after meeting you I think it’s developed into something more.” He doesn’t say anything, he’s too shocked to. He never would have expected you felt the same way that he did. 

“Can you say something please? I’m worried that this was just one sided and I just made an idiot of myself.” He doesn’t know where this sudden burst of confidence comes from. But he reaches out and places his finger underneath your chin to turn your gaze up to look at him. He doesn’t hesitate before he leans in and presses a chaste kiss to your lips.

“I like you too. I have for a while now too. I thought it was just some innocent celebrity crush, but after getting to know you I would really be an idiot for letting a chance with you go.” You smile as your mind is finally set at ease.

“Well I guess we better make the most of my time here in Seoul while we can then huh?”

“Let’s finish the song tomorrow, then we can just spend the rest of the time going out together.” You nod and kiss him again, this time letting your lips linger for a little bit longer.

“That sounds perfect.”

[theafshariamin]

My 12 days of COVID.

My experience with COVID-19 or SARS-COV-2 for the first 12 days. I was exposed Saturday Nov 29th at a small gathering of 5-8 friends. After one of my friends at the gathering reported he tested positive. I took a rapid antigen tested negative on Tuesday December 1st (negative) and received my first positive results for a PCR test done on Dec 3, on Dec 7th.

So Dec 3-till now (Dec 14th):

Day 1 - Dec 3rd. Normal day no real fever or symptoms kinda felt like a normal head cold or flu.

Day 2 - Dec 4th. Little fatigue, no fever, tingling sore throat.

Day 3 - Dec 5th. Went hiking- mask/no ppl on trail- it was difficult. My scent left this day- I was in a restaurant realizing that I couldn’t smell the their awesome food. Also it was 60 but my nose felt a tingling numbness bursts of icy sensation- almost as if it’s cold outside.

Day 4 - Dec 6th. lethargy and tiredness, felt cold, had to take a nap, sore throat, barely ate. No sense of smell.

Day 5 -Dec 7th. Got my PCR test result in the morning- left the house to quarentine away from my household. High fever. Sore throat. Brain fog. No sense of smell.

Day 6 - Dec 8th. Tired quickly after a walk no work done. Tired. Sore throat. Hard to breathe when lying on back- had to sleep on side. Rib cage and back pain (around lungs). Minor fever. No sense of smell.

Day 7 - Dec 9th. Energy improvement but still lagging. Breathing was a little bit easier but still soreness/heaviness in the lungs when lying on my back. Tired quickly. Brain fog. No sense of smell.

Day 8- Dec 10th. More imporovement with breathing. Still tired quick. More appetite, soreness of throat mostly gone. Brain fog. No sense of smell.

Day 9 - Dec 11th. Totally breathing good. Head still foggy- no real complex tasks or work accomplishments. Tired(but improving )

Day 10- Dec 12th. Some work tasks easier. Still tired quicker. No sore throat. Some headaches.

Day 11- Dec 13th. Physically more bandwidth for tasks and energy levels are well maintained throughout the day. Still a little foggy. Still no scent.

Day 12- Dec 14th. Feel almost normal- received a negative antigen test today- which should mean I’m not contagiousa- PCR will likely still test positive- but I no longer pose a threat to others. Excited to be back home. Scent is still gone and some fatigue definitely still present. Slight headache.

Basic notes thus far: DONT BE A HYPOCHONDRIAC. Your mind is half the battle with illness in general- think positively for best results.

Also. Advil/ibuprofen/Tylenol all help in reducing fever and severity of illness.

New experiences/sensation:

Brain fog- like a hangover but not going away and preventing you from living your regular life because it’s crippling your ability to process and solve issues.

“Smell Blind”- feeling a numb nose, being able to intake air but it feels numbing bursts without scent.

Definitions for diagnostic test.

Antigen Test- usually rapid, less accurate (still very accurate up to 90%), or sensitive, but show contagiousness of individual now.

PCR test- typically a 24-48hr test that is more sensitive (95-99%), completed by a lab, but does not give results immediately and may show positive even though you aren’t contagious or spreading the virus. The gold standard for diagnosis not for seeing if you are no longer actively a spreading hazard.

Notes:

Going to try and use NAD iv therapy to clear the brain fog.

[demisexual-deesaster]

Maybe Lilith x a new Siren/ ex bandit leader?? Just the conflict of her suppesed to be against her but falling for her instead

Ahhh this is an interesting ask! Thank you! I'll do my best to honour this request :3 In this HC, the reader will be the vault hunter! Major Spoilers for the fate of a character from Borderlands 3 included, so read at your own risk! Some non canon moments have been added too. Also, oof, this got really long I'm sorry haha

Moving into new Pandora territory because of the damn Calypso twins was annoying to say the least. More than three quarters of your bandits had become mutinous bastards, and you'd almost taken care of all of them, and had almost taken back your home, bit obviously, the Calypso twins had to ruin it with their grandstanding. You barely escaped with your life that day.

You meet Vaughn a few days later, and after seeing your 'super awesome banditness!!' he sent you on a super secret scouting mission, and after your concerns about this supposed Vault Key fragment, he assures you that it's in safe hands. "Go Sun Smashers!" He cheers.

When you return, it's to Vaughn hanging upside down from a chain, and when he sees you, he yells from happiness. "Oh thank goodness you're here! I was getting lonely all by myself! Yeah...stuff happened..." He explains everything to you. You and Vaughn haven't been the best of friends. While you're sarcastic, witty and quick on your feet, Vaughn is...the complete opposite.

You meet Lilith a while later, even if you have to rescue a robot and claim a COV Base as your own temporarily. That woman is no joke, and with the way her eyes sparkle, you know she means business. She doesn't seem overly enthusiastic about having to welcome an ex bandit leader, and when you realize that this is THE Lilith of the Crimson Raiders, your bandit instincts scream at you to turn and run.

Of course, you don't. You owe Vaughn that much. She warily tells you about everything that happened, even though her tone is light, you can sense it. She's probably desperate for help, given how COV trashed their HQ. As you're heading to the Holy Broadcast Centre, you truly wonder if this woman can be fully trusted, or if she can trust you.

But as you keep completing mission after mission for the Firehawk, it becomes clearer to everyone–Vaughn at least, as he won't stop teasing you about it–that you're probably one of Lilith's most favourite Vault Hunters. Oh yeah. You weren't just a Crimson Raider now. You were a Vault Hunter. Things were looking pretty good. Until everything went to hell.

After you rescue Lilith–she said she could walk, but no way were you going to let her, spluttering as she was– and carry her aboard sanctuary, you escape by the skin of your teeth. When Tannis calls you for something, you don't notice the brilliant blush that's dusting the Firehawk's cheeks. She starts calling you killer affectionately from then on, and you can't help but smile giddily when she does.

The crew of the Sanctuary, Lilith's family, are am interesting bunch, and you feel yourself becoming a part of them and caring for them more and more as the days go by. Be it sabotaging radios for Moxxi, scanning vehicles for Ellie, salvaging parts for Claptrap, killing people for Zero and animals for Hammerlock or finding logs and drops for Tannis, you enjoyed every last one of them.

*SPOILER*

Maya and Ava had breezed easily into your life, though Maya's death had been a big blow to the Raiders. You liked Maya, so it hurt even more that you were powerless to stop it. Ava had been assigned to you, so you were the one who held her back when Maya died. When everyone gathered on the deck, Lilith's back was turned away from the group. No one seemed to know what to say, their grief towering. So you thought to say a few words.

"I'm not good at speeches but...Maya was...strong, from what little I knew of her. Everyone here was very close to her, and I'm sure that they miss her more than I ever could. But I think if Maya were here, she'd want us to take the fight to them, to win for the Crimson Raiders, and to come out on top. So if anything...we don't just owe this to the world anymore. The Calypso Twins have to be stopped. We owe that to Maya."

During the speech, Lilith had turned to you, and her eyes were wide, brimming with emotion. You'd awkwardly cut yourself off, suddenly feeling like a child, and Tannis had taken over, but Ava had stormed off, bitterly spouting things about how you were there and should've taken action, and blamed both you and Lilith for her mentor's death. After everyone had left, you went to check on Ava, but the girl didn't let you in, so you went back to Lilith, the latter thanking you for checking up on the girl. "Did you really mean what you said?" She'd whispered, and you'd nodded. "Every word."

*SPOILER END*

It's slow, but after that incident, you can see the difference in behaviour when it comes to how Lilith used to interact with you before, and how she does now. Lingering glances, shy smiles–you didn't know Lilith could be shy!– and, something which took you by surprise the first time, hugs and hand holding. It's something you looked forward to everytime you went on a mission. A brief but small hand squeeze, and a hug that lingered too long when you returned. It was so obvious to everyone that even Tannis and Claptrap had begun to take notice.

After one particularly grueling mission involving that ass Killavolt, you were in Tannis' lab, the woman berating you for not wearing shock resistant shields as she dressed your bruises. "Honestly! It's like you want to be hurt!" She huffs, and five minutes later, she's told you to rest for a while until Rhys contacts your team. You'd begun to protest, shirtless as you were, when the door opened, and Lilith walked in, frowning. "Hey Tannis, could you help me with–"

Her eyes had widened, and you remember feeling a lot naked than you were. It would've been funny, had your eyes not been as wide as hers too. You willed your hands to move, but they stayed as still as led. Tannis meanwhile, was completely oblivious, and continued to poke your abs with her fingers, ignoring Lilith. "Just a moment Lilith. I have a very stubborn patient I need to examine."

It had seemed the words hadn't registered, because Lilith had begun walking towards you, and out of nowhere, she poked your abs. You yelped, wincing, a red blush colouring your face. "Lilith! Honestly! Stop poking my patients like that!" Tannis huffed. Lilith, startled out of her revere, had nodded and mumbled a "Sorry Tannis. Take care of yourself, Vault Hunter." Vault Hunter. Not Killer. Why did it feel you'd screwed something up? It was probably nothing, right?

So...turns out, it wasn't. Lilith had become increasingly distant. The hugs had stopped, and so had the hand holding. There was some tension in the air, though you didn't know why. Moxxi had assured you, telling you that this is normally how Lilith dealt with feelings, and while it was a comforting thought that your feelings were reciprocated, it still didn't help that Lilith was treating you like this.

After a particularly deadly mission involving the COV, where Tyreen herself had made an appearance. You'd been hurt really bad, but you'd saved the life of innocent people. An explosion had knocked you back, and you'd tried getting up, but had found yourself crushed beneath Troy's boot heel. "Careful Troy. That's my super fan you know! We don't wanna beat her up too bad!"

She'd echo cast your broken and beaten form across the galaxies. "What is up everyone! We've got a special video today. It's my very own superfan, the second biggest heretic in the universe! It's the Firehawk's Dog! Do you have anything to say, Vault Hunter?"

You'd said nothing, glaring at the camera instead. Troy had chosen to plunge a knife inside you, and you'd cried out in pain. "That's what I'm looking for! My my Lilith! You've been working my super fan to the bone! That's supposed to be my job! Well! There's no harm in sharing, right? Sharing is caring after all!" She winks, and smacks the camera with a cackle, and Troy decides, for added dramatics, to twist the knife in more. You scream, and their laughter is the last thing you hear, before you black out.

When you wake up, you're on Sanctuary, or, more accurately, in Tannis' lab. She tells you that the Calypso's had left you for dead in the desert, and that Ellie and Vaughn had helped bring you back. Everyone had been worried sick. It was a miracle you were alive. "Is everyone okay?" You'd croaked out, and Tannis had nodded. "Are you?" She'd asked, and honestly, you were a little sore, but you were fine.

"Lilith was beside herself you know." Moxxi says, and you realize with a start that she's been there the whole time. "After Roland and Maya...well...you can see why she has trouble getting close to people, trouble admitting she has feelings."

You understand what Moxxi means. At first, Lilith's apprehension was understandable. You were a former bandit leader, and she is the leader of the Crimson Raiders. Both of you should be hating the other, yet you'd grown impossibly close. Now, it seemed Lilith was fighting a war with herself, debating whether or not what she felt for you should be pursued.

"I need to see Lilith." You mumble, immediately knowing what you had to do, and ignoring Tannis' protest, you walked to her room. She wasn't there. She wasn't at the bridge either. Giving up, you walked back to your room, where you found her. She was on your bed, holding a picture the two of you had taken on Pandora. She'd looked up, when she saw you walk in, and you were surprised to see tears in her eyes.

For a second, no one moved. Then, slowly, you walked to Lilith, stumbling over to her, and she'd shit to her feet when you finally crossed the distance between the two of you.

Hugging Lilith for the first time in weeks felt amazing. You finally felt complete, as if two halves of a whole were reunited. "Are you okay?" You mumbled, and Lilith spluttered out a laugh. "You got stabbed, crushed under a boot and nearly bled to death, and you're asking me if I'm okay?"

"Yes." You said simply, smiling when you felt Lilith sag against you. "I will be." She whispered, and she was right. Both of you had already been through a lot. Both of you were hurting, but when she broke the hug, leaned in, a kissed you, again and again and again, you knew, that neither of you were okay, but both of you would be. In time.

Whoo! This was way too long for my first imagine, oof. Hope you enjoyed this, and if you did, don't forget to like, follow and obey!! ;) Kidding!!! Seriously though, likes comments and reblogs help us a lot!!! So please yeah? :3

[citrine-elephant]

The Anointed

The Vault Hunters are split up. Zane runs into a little trouble.

“Shite!” Zane hissed, rolling on the cement and pouncing to his feet, quickly raising his SMG towards his attacker. 

The operative reached for his remote digistructor, slamming his thumb on the button and ducking yet another fist coming for his face. Within a moment, his digi-clone sparked alive, equipping himself with a copy of the man’s SMG and firing at the assailant. 

“There ya are, ye handsome bastard!” Zane quipped, smirking as he dodged another fist yet again.

An Anointed Goliath. Troy had sent them, a bunch of them, splitting up the group. But Zane had never had a problem alone. He had his digi-clone and his other gadgets. It was just easier with a team.

“Why won’t you die now?” the goliath hissed, throwing a punch that made a hit, knocking Zane to the ground.

The operative tumbled, before rolling to his feet again, “Not today, boomer!”

“You are old man?” the purple hunk of meat’s skull tilted on it’s stem as he took a step back, momentarily stunned by Zane’s words.

“I’m an old man with spice! I’m a spicy old man! Zesty Zane boy…” the operative trailed off and chuckled, quickly raising his gun again and firing off into the goliath’s stomach.

The goliath hissed, stumbling back further, hitting the wall behind him. He huffed and shook the skull that lurched from his body, soon turning his attention back on the white haired man.

“Oof, are ye angry now?” Zane smiled, firing more shots into the big guy’s belly, then turning up the gun towards the head. His clone followed suit. 

The Anointed paused, then let out a laugh. Zane halted his firing for a moment, enough to cock his head in confusion. 

Before the operative knew it, he was knocked flat on the ground. His body hit the cement with a loud thump, his head cracking against the ground. It wasn’t enough to knock Zane unconscious, but was enough to daze him something awful… And give him quite the nasty headache. The man looked up through blurred and double vision, groaning as he grabbed his head. Above him were two goliaths, not one. The man blinked a few times to check his eyes, but no, it seemed like there were two Anointed goliaths standing above him. How had he missed the second one?

“You die now!” the first goliath spoke, grabbing Zane by the throat and lifting him off the ground.

The man gasped as the purple fist clenched around his neck, but he was too out of it to do anything. Zane reached weakly to pry the fingers off of him, but his body wouldn’t respond like he wanted it to. He let out a grunt as he hung there in the goliath’s grasp.

“No, you idiots!” Another voice spoke. A familiar voice.

The goliath turned and Zane got to see the fresh new blur. Two blurs, actually. Blurs with glowing red and blue… The pieces were starting to fall in place in his dazed and confused mind…

“We’re not killing him,” Troy Calypso. It was Troy Calypso, “We need him alive.”

Zane grimaced. His vision was starting to return to normal and he could start to see that rat boy’s face and his twin sister. Two leeches. 

“No kill? Aw!” the Anointed goliath whined, dropping Zane to the ground. 

The operative lay there on the ground, struggling to even get to his hands and knees. Before he knew it, he was lifted from the ground once again, this time, encased in some sort of energy… Maya’s powers… Troy had phaselocked him. 

“Aw, what’s wrong, Vault Thief? Having a little trouble?” The red tattooed Siren laughed.

“See, our followers needed something more, so we decided to do something big! Real big, right Troy?” Tyreen, the Siren with the blue tattoos, smiled. 

“Right, sis!” Troy looked towards his sister and beamed, “How’s about a little team switch?” 

Zane rolled his head as much as he could to look at the twins. He hissed through his teeth.

“We’re going to recruit you, Vault Thief!” The blue tattooed Siren smiled, “Well, we were going to try and recruit that Siren friend of yours. What is her name? Amara…? But you just fell right into our hands so easily!”

“You’d have to…” Zane struggled, “...kill me first…”

“Kill you?” Tyreen laughed, “Maybe later, but we need you, Vault Thief! Come on, this will be fun!”

Zane grunted, trying to summon his SNTNL, but he couldn’t release it on account of not being able to move much. On top of still trying to shake himself out of it, the energy orb he was trapped in weighed down on him as well. Soon, Troy walked up to his captive. The Siren leech watched the operative struggle to find his energy before deciding to pull out a small device of sorts.

“You know, ECHO technology is kinda flawed…” The red tattooed Siren began, “It’s just so easy to manipulate and mess with…”

“Yeah, and your ECHO encryption is wack!” Tyreen chipped in.

“It’s just that, there was this guy once who had an ECHO port in the side of his head…” 

Troy smiled, “Someone popped one of these babies right in there and boom!”

“His head blew up!” The other Siren exclaimed, “Not really, he totally got brainwashed,

haha!” 

“Tyreen, I got this…” Troy turned towards his sister, then back at Zane, “Yeah… Brainwashed... Something like that. I noticed, you’re equipped with all sorts of ECHO gear… I wonder if you’d happen to have something worth our time…?”

“Feck you...” Zane spat.

Troy simply smiled and pulled the energy orb holding the operative closer to him. With excitement in his eyes, he watched the man struggle and fight… as much as he could.

“Now where is that ECHO port…?” the red tattooed Siren walked around the orb, observing the man closely.

Troy looked like Zane like a predator would it’s prey. Like a hunter admiring his trophy. The Siren looked proud to have this Vault Hunter in his grasp… And hungry for something sinister.

“Ah ha! There it is… Smart placement, Vault Thief. The beard almost hides it!” the Siren smiled.

Zane could only watch as the Siren grabbed him and rammed the device into the port on the side of his neck. Troy released the man from the phaselock and took a step back, watching him collapse on the ground.

“Oh, ye bastard...!” the operative hissed through his teeth as he struggled to wrap his hands around the device, “I’ll… kill ya!” 

Zane made for a lunge, abandoning his effort to pull out the device in his neck, but his body would not cooperate. He fell short as a new feeling surged through him. Electricity. It doubled him over, completely incapacitating him. 

“What... the feck…?!” the operative croaked, falling on his stomach, hands unsure where to try to comfort.

The twins stood above him and laughed, watching him suffer in agony. Watching him as he made a new attempt to crawl away. A pressure landed hard on his back, knocking him on his belly. Troy Calypso’s foot...

“Oh no, Vault Thief, you’re staying right here,” Troy chuckled.

The operative yelped as a kick to the side forced him on his back. He groaned aloud as he felt the electricity in his body grow somehow worse than it already was. The worst parts were his stomach and his head. God his head, though. His thoughts became scrambled, unorganized, a complete and utter mess. He couldn’t think one way or the other.

Then, through the nonsense in Zane’s head came sparks of thought. His own voice coming through, telling him things.

“Worship the Twin Gods,” the operative’s mind told him, “Follow the God Queen!”

Soon, Zane’s mind was overwhelmed with all kinds of thoughts, thoughts in his own voice, telling him all sorts of things. Join the Children of the Vault, kill the Vault Thiefs, the Vaults belong to the Twin Gods and the COV… 

“Get out of me feckin’ head!” the operative yelled, pounding his fist weakly against the ground.

“You like that? Programmed that myself. Y’know, sitting in a room full of psychos for four hours is kinda the worst…” Troy’s beam turned towards a frown.

“But when they’re worshipping you… Hah!” Tyreen laughed, “Anyway, Vault Thief, what is your name? Sand or something, right? Who cares, you’re ours now. Our followers are gonna love this!” 

Zane tried to get up, but he just couldn’t. Whatever had been inserted into his ECHO port was corrupting his mind and incapacitating him more than being knocked flat on his ass by the Anointed. The electricity was too strong, even if he had his strength back… He felt himself losing the battle. He felt himself slipping.

“Aw, look at him!” Tyreen teased, “He’s struggling. What a battle! Are you getting this, Troy?”

They had been filming this the whole time. Zane would have felt angry at both the twins and himself if it weren’t for whatever Troy uploaded into his ECHO port. He felt more exhausted than anything. 

“Get a close up of his face!” Tyreen commanded.

Troy obliged and the camera drone flew closer. The operative was looking worse for wear. He soon gave up his struggle and just layed there, drooling on the cement. 

“The operative got operated!” Troy exclaimed.

“Oh, I like that one, Troy. Haha, ‘the operative got operated’. So good,” Tyreen joined in her brother’s joy.

Zane looked through exhausted eyes up at the twins, feeling himself slip into the darkness. Everything began to slip away as he blacked out.

…

“Good morning, sleepy head!” Tyreen was standing in front of Zane’s vision, smiling as wide as she could, “How ya feeling, my favourite superfan?” 

The operative groaned, but as soon as his mind adjusted to what he was seeing, he felt a pang of… excitement.

“God Queen…” The words left his lips before he had time to process them. Wait, what the fuck was he thinking?

The Siren gasped, “Troy! Troy, I think your little toy worked!”

“Did it?” Troy called, before walking into view, “Let’s wait to untie him before we’re sure.”

That’s when Zane realized he was tied down to a chair. His wrists were bound tight to the armrests and rope wrapped snugly around his chest and belly. His ankles received the same treatment: all nice and snug. Part of his mind was screaming in panic, while the other was screaming in joy. The Twin Gods were standing right before him… 

No, don’t feel joy, Zane struggled, don’t feel…

“The Twin Gods… right in front of me!” the operative smiled and let out a chuckle, before showing a clear struggle with his mind as he scoffed, “If only I could just… kill…”

“Wait, he’s struggling. Troy, I don’t know if it’s working now,” Tyreen turned towards her brother and frowned.

Zane felt a pang of anxiety seeing that frown. No, be happy, God Queen! Be… fuckin’ miserable!

“Maybe he needs a little extra… push?” Troy suggested, “Ty, pull up the TV and put some COV broadcasts on, maybe that’ll help him!”

Tyreen glared at Troy, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Or I could do it…” the red tattooed Siren rolled his eyes before disappearing from sight.

Soon, Troy returned, pushing a box with a television on top of it. He stopped in front of Zane and pressed the power button. A blast of light flooded the operative’s vision, his eyes taking a moment to adjust to what he was seeing. The operative knew it for what it was; propaganda. But he just couldn’t take his eyes off of it…

…

The twins left Zane strapped down in front of the TV, forced to watch broadcast after broadcast after broadcast. Even with the excitement deep down in his gut, he screamed, hoping his fellow Vault Hunters would somehow hear him and rescue him… But soon enough, his screams died down...

“How ya feeling now, superfan?” Tyreen Calypso appeared in front of him again. Zane didn’t even realize the television was off until a smack to his face brought him to attention.

“G-God… Queen…” the operative muttered. He was exhausted… Broken. 

“Oh, would you look at that!” the blue tattooed Siren smiled, placing a hand under Zane’s chin and lifting his head, “I think your propaganda idea worked. Finally brought him around! Don’t worry, Vault Thief, we’ll build you back up again…”

“Shame that we couldn’t just fry his brain in one go, but I guess this was faster,” Troy huffed, walking into view.

“I think we can let him go now,” Tyreen stated, “We gotta get going on the next part of this… Troy, will you do the honors?” 

Troy smirked, casting the phaselock on the already tied up Zane, “Welcome to the family.”

With that, a haze of purple surrounded the operative. Energy raced through him like a train, devouring every inch of him. It was over in seconds. Before Zane knew it, he had become one of the Anointed.