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zuffer-weird-girl · 5 years

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Mano eu amo vc kkklkklk só entro aqui pelo meu amado Royai , Todomomo e por Vc , amo headcannons do Chisaki com enfermeiras 😏 queria ele com uma no tartarus , e ele dando chilique pq só quer ser atendido por ela kkkkk ( se não for abusar ) bjs

"Man I love you kkklkklk I only come here for my beloved Royai, Todomomo and for you, I love Chisaki's headcannons with nurses 😏 I wanted him with one at the tartarus, and he giving a tantrum because he just wants to be attended to by her kkkkk (if not to abuse) kisses"

"MISS (L/N)!" a young male nurse had just barged into the room you were currently on, and the poor thing seemed both devasted and like he was attacked by something.

"Woah there kiddo calm down!" You exclaimed while getting up, holding the poor young worker's shoulder as he breathed in and out desperately, somehow finding comfort in you again. "What's wrong? Did you went to All for One's cell and he sayed bullshit and then you fell down the stairs?" You giggled while the poor young man growled.

Being a worker on the the most famous villains prison always did indeed messes up with your mind... Tartarus had the most dangerous and cruelest villains ever that Japan had, and clearly sometimes ghey did messed up with tbe workers minds... or at least try it to.

"N-no... please just go talk with the guard outside. I can't deal with this anymore. I don't get ONE STEP closer to that man's cell!" He exclaimed while abruptly getting a cup of coffee on the machine.

You blinked at that and hesitantly walked out of the rest room to be met with one guard and your superior.

"Good morning gentlemans. What's gotten into him?" The guard huffed a puff of irritated air as he pointed with his chin at one direction while your superior sighed in desperation.

"The same thing that happened with the other four nurses that covered your shift on that man's cell (Y/n)... no one can enter that place besides you, is a fact by now." You tilted your head in confusion before the guard manifested.

"That bastard Chisaki, miss (y/n). Even without his arms the son of a bitch can still kick anyone's ass who dares to take one step inside his cell.... except you apparently. "

You really had to hold back your laughter at that one.

Overhaul, Chisaki Kai. He was the new prisoner that had just got in Tartarus one year by now... you were the first; your coworkers sayed 'poor soul'; one to get inside and talk face to face with the villain as you explained to him.

His eyes were so empty and yet so full of terror... only nodding and shooking his head numbly, not even dating to meet your eyes... but even despite that he was still a very arrogant and stubborn man, not letting you touch him by any means for the first few visits you made.

You were patient though... making small conversations, slowly getting why he was here exactly... hearing him talk instead of hearing humors or reading his profile.

After some weeks he allowed you to touch him with gloves; you threatened to his wounds and let him vent... you knew he needed that more than anything by that moment, and you were more than glad to hear that beautiful voice...

After you hearf what exactly took his arms away you were shocked, disgusted and sad... surprising the man in so many levels.

After months of talkating, threating and knowing each other, he was slightly infatuated by you, and the moment you explained to him you were quirkless was just the cherry on top for Chisaki to threat you completely different than his forst meeting with you.

He wouldn't at least complain THAT MUCH when you feeded him at least... both arms losted made the simplest activities seem like it was impossible.

Although there was this one time you couldn't come and sended one friend of yours instead while you took care of a newbie on the prison..

Poor woman came back traumatized and asked to leave her job the next day.

Then another time when you were sick, knewing about Chisaki's mysophobia you asked gently another coworker to go in there instead of you.

The man came back with a beaten up face and in the end the nurse needed to be treated...

This happened at least four times by now... and always ended on the same thing.

"(Y/N), not even us can enter his cell. He knocked out at least five or six guards of ours..." the man exhale desperate.

"And had the nerve of demanding your presence and leaving me with a damn scar on the left side of my face." Yhe guard showed it to you the medium scar adoring his jaw.

"Jesus Christ..." you whispered with widen eyes as you sended him to see the nurse inside, he had a minor healing quirk to that would help a bit... at least.

"Please (y/n) go into his cell, he hadn't eaten anything the whole day and didn't changed his bandages... and with the fight he had with our guards and nurse he surely afquired more bruises." You nodded before picking your stuff and walking towards Overhaul's cell.

You placed your card and passed through the door which quickly closed, safety measures in there were serious, as you looked around the cell and smiled at seing the back of the man sitting on his bed.

"You need to stop doing that you know?" Your voice caught his attention as he turned his front to you with a monotonously look while you gave him a sweet but yet nervous smile, pointing at outside.

"Poor thing looked like he had just come out of a war! What did you even do?" You picked a washcloth and rubbed the hints of blood from the walls, which you couldn't help but wince.

"They sended a incompetent useless brat that surely wouldn't be fit for a decent job." He said numbly before sighing when you sitted on a chair next to his bed.

"Then I do a 'decent job' then?" You giggled while he only stared back at you "I will have you know that one of the womans that came in here were one of our best nurses... until she left her work after covering me that timr." You eyed him with a cocky smile and a eyebrow lifted up.

"Didn't sound like she was. And don't get full of yourself now, you just happen to be only one I can atture." He growled, easing up a bit at hearing your giggling a apology.

Such a sweet thing on this dark, depressed and dangerous place... how surprised yet blessed was he?

Did he really deserved any of your kindness? Any of your sweet as honey words?

You brought up on your bag before breaking apart the chopsticks. He arched kne eyebrow at it before noticing that the usual disgusting food or soup; gosh he hated soup more than germs; that he was served at tartarus weren't in the room.

Placing the pieces together he sighed in annoyance and embarrassment before laying his head on the wall.

"You will be fired for that idiot. Giving a prisoner proper food instead of that disgusting and nauseous things..." you look up at him, already a takoyaki on the chopsticks.

"Don't worry." You chirped "First I told them this was my lunch, then after I lost the hunger. Simple as that!" You sayed cutely while he deadpanned.

"What a poor and dumb strategy."

"Hey! Is a good one!"

"No of course it isn't." He showed with his chin at the camera "Those sick can see us and hear us by now."

"Only see. And like my genius plan will work, we've got nothing to worry about it!"

"You will be fired." He said monotonously but still feeling a painful bitter grow on his chest.

You being fired meaned that you weren't coming back. Others will try to replace you... dumb and idiotics... no one could replace such a divine creature.

"Actually I don't think I would be fired... especially when I am the only one that enters in here that Isn't... you know, knocked out or simply left here terrified of everthing."

He hummed in annoyance before frowning at seing you standing a bit of the food you had for him to eat.

He had to control really hard to not to blush.. he never ever had these problems, so why with you was so... warm and left him without air?

He reluctantly parted his lips, averting his eyes before you placed gently the food inside his mouth.

He sighed in bliss at not feeling the lifeless taste he was used to by now or the disgusting misoshiro soup they offered. The flavors on his mouth giving him a moment.

"Is it good?" He nodded monotonously still munching slowly, averting his gaze away from your at seing you had smiled sweetly at him. "That's a good thing Chisaki-kun!"

He swallowed before feeling shivers of displeasure at hearing that name, he wasn't Overhaul anymore and had demanded you to not call him that either... but his first name? Were you even going to accept it?

"Chisaki? Don't want the rest?" Your voice broked him out of his thoughts as he looked at you extending another small amount of food to him again.

He growled again before accepting and opening his mouth again.

This was humiliating...

After he finished you were relieved at least, since your superior had told you that Chisaki havent eaten anything since your last visit...

"Kai." He suddenly said before you offered him a cup of water.

"Huh?"

"Call me this. Do not call me 'Chisaki-kun', it sound ridiculous, so call me 'Kai' instead."

He looked at you from the conor of his eye and got surprised at seing the hint of pink on your cheeks.

"Ok then.. Kai." You smiled warmly at him and for the first time that you ever met this man, he half smiled.

You wanted to scream at the sign, despite being a villain, you couldn't deny that Chisaki was attractive, but seing him smile? It was just another level.

"U-uh.. Oh! I remembered!" You messed around on your bag before taking out a black surgeon mask, his eyes widening a bit at the sign. "I brought this for you. Sorry for taking too long, im such a cloud head!" You rubbed the back of your neck in embarrassment as his eyes still were pierced to the mask.

"Why...?" He asked sorely and weakly, making your soine go cold.

"Well, I know how you aren't the most comfortable in here, and also your mysophobia... so I went to look for masks, but I knew you also prefered black so it took me a while to find it... the majority of them are always white or even blue..."

He looked up at you, eyes full of disbelief yet shock.

"C-Can I put it for you?" It ook a bit of time for him to answer back before he slowly but suspiciously nodded.

Instead of feeling jis skin errup in irritation, he felt waves of electricity and warmth surround all of his body when he felt the tinies and quickiest brush of your fingers on both sides of his face.

He arched one of his eyebrows at you when he heard your whine when you got back. Silently demanding a explanation for that sound.

"Is just that... now I can't see your smile neither your whole beautiful face anymore..." you immediately smacked a hand over your mouth in panic.

Did you really just said that OUT LOUD?!

His low disbelieved yet relieved chuckle made you ease uo a bit before tensing at seing how tjose golden eyes were luff red, but knowing him, he wouldn't let any tear fall, evem if he needed.

"I think you're mistaken things here... you're the... you still have bkth of your arms and also are the... beautiful one... not the lther way around... I'm hideous... not from outside, but inside... can't you see..?" he swallowed the sob before he saw your own eyes tearing up.

"Why are you crying for now?" He asked quite angrily before returning to his cold composture again.

"I guess... its because I think you're the last lerson that deserved to go through this..."

"You're a idiot." He dropped his head hund low "I know you readed and know what I've done, so stop pretending-"

"You just wanted to repay your father... righ Kai?"

He felt his body freeze at your commentary, he slowly looked up at you and cri ged at the sign of you, ghe most beautiful and pure person he ever saw, crying because of him.

"I know how you feel... I'm so sorry. The yakusa shouldn't had ended in that way..."

Before he knew it a sob escaped from his mouth and he immediately cursed out loud. He felt your arms envelope around him, not feeling irritated but instead... relieved.

"I can check on him if you want..." you offered as his silent tears fell from his eyes.

"I did that to him...he just wouldn't accept it and I did that with him... I-" he interrupted himself at feeling your hand to pat his head gently.

"I know... I know." He let himself relax at your body, it was way comfortable than that project of bed of his...

"You better had showered and not to tell this-"

"Showered at least two times today and why would I tell this to someone?" You asked while resting your head on his neck as he did the same with your head.

"... I have no idea. You're definitely the most weird perso I ever met... and I have met plenty."

"Is that a good or a bad thing at least?"

"...good. A... good thing. A weird... angel.." you widened your eyes and vlushed furiously at hearing of what he called you.

You looked up and saw how his eyes were peaceful closed... poor man didn't get good sleep...

A guard passed through and you made a signal to him, clearly telling him to go away and that you were spending your whole shift on here.

You were falling for this criminal... it was wrong? Deadass wrong... but you couldn't control it.

Both of you had putted each other on a spell and didn't even knew it...

#overhaul x reader #overhaul scenario #fanfic overhaul #overhaul #kai chisaki x reader #chisaki kai x reader #kai chisaki #chisaki kai #chisaki kai imagine scenario #bnha imagine #bnha characters #bnha villains #bnha #bnha x reader #bnha imagines #my writing #zuffer writings

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jackalopefreckles · 4 years

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I feel like Ive aged at least 6 years since covid started. Im angrier. Less adapted to being outside then I used to be- which is saying a lot. This time last year I was?? Actually healthier mentally then I had ever been and looking forward to having the house alone for a month which?? Was the most freedom I wouldve ever had.

A lots fucking changed. I drove halfway across the country- all 30 hours at once with my big brother AND two elderly dogs, plus my cat. All animals on too many drugs (the vet said they couldnt overdose, and then failed to give any further instruction) cami peed on herself twice, unable to move. I had to waterboard her in Phoenix, a truly terrifying hell city where all the roads are raised and overlapping and its a hot as shit cause its?? What june?? Time was so fake this year I mustve just been stoned the whole time till I ran out of weed, and since moving its been a relief to be able to turn off the spinning anxious thoughts for a few hours

my big brother joined us. He brought a new dog with him which?? Is always a lot, plus I have this pack of dogs now cause the puppy wouldnt leave the super cancer ridden dog alone, and Im able to get her cbd regularly here, so shes always comfortable now instead of just?? Sometimes which is a lot nicer. We didnt think shed make it to chrisrmas. I thought shed die with me home alone to take care of everything, like always. It was almost a relief, I wouldn't have to coach my brother through the grieving process at least, and I had already finished. Its hard now even, for me to realize she might even have another christmas (but I wont hold my breath)

I feel safer going outside here then I did in Austin. I only went out a handful of times in texas, for the last few months I was ordering almost all groceries, and only going to the store once mask mandates were mandatory (theyre not anymore. Im so worried for texas. I missed a huge freeze by mere months. I dont think my elderly dogs wouldnt survived it. If I was alone with them, Im not sure I woudlve.

My parents took my brother to mexico with them. I begged them not to go, told them how irresponsible it was to travel across boarders. To visit an island and take all the plane germs with. I told them that even if my mom and brother were staying at home all day with me, my dad was still going to work and he didnt know what his coworkers were doing. That they wouldn't know what the people on the plane were doing. That at any point they could become the stupid americans that killed half an islands population.

They left a week after today last year. The boarders were closed the next day. Their friend has been traveling back and forth ever since. I have no idea how, except for the fact shes white and rich and wont hesitate to destroy a child, so I can only imagine how shed treat costomer service.

I will no longer allow this angry aggressive woman to ever make me feel bad, and I will allow myself to finally fight back. Im an adult, maybe not all the time (cause lets be real I'll always be a bit too eccentric for most) but when I get angry and allow myself that anger, it's not a bad thing. Anger doesn't have to make me feel like Ive done something wrong. Im usually very just in my actions, and I wont allow my parents influence to tell me all anger is misdirected and hurtful for reasons I couldnt understand. Its okay for me to be angry.

I think being alone with animals for months is at least reassuring that my childhood was unreasonable if nothing else. Which of course is a silly polite society term for pretty fucked, if nothing else.

My aunt had to gall to say weve had a good 2020 cause our family wasnt hurt, and I had to walk away from the zoom call. I haven't attempted communication with any of them since, not that I normally do. Of course none of us died, all rich old white people, most of them retired and able to stay home all day (not that all of them did, I learned about my grandfathers routine and just.. Im honestly surprised no one got it yet. Of course I knew from the beginning if anyone was gonna get it and die, it probably wouldve been me. Hence the 8 months of solitude before the move.

Was the move in August?? Im so unsure about time. Even with 2020 vision.

I tried to date when I moved here. Strictly on tinder. What was the point? On and off testosterone due to the wonders of texas, hadnt changed my body nearly as much as they should've a year after being on them. I look much more handsome now. Im also allowing myself to toss gender aside completely. He/him doesn't mean man, and they/them dont mean nonbinary, so why not mix them since Im?? Not really either.

It wasnt even a thought process like that to start. Much more "this is nice" which I think more gender should be allowed to be. Dont gotta be deep just comfortable.

I wont ever allow my parents to forget what they did. I ended up with three dogs I didnt want (I was so looking forward to not having any dogs) and I ended up taking care of my brother. Again. Its easier without my parents at least. Everything always is. My dogs are even happier. Cami finally isnt anxious 24/7. Again, a sad reminder my childhood wasn't great. Daisy is healthier. Trauma can be stored emotionally or with health issues, often both. I think the cancer dog getting better and?? Surviving and thriving so much longer then the vet said (how good was my old vet?) Is another unfortunate nail in thay proverbial coffin.

Im not as soft and openly loving. Im even more touch starved somehow. Harsher. I still want to choose love and compassion, but Im not letting myself fall into the trap of being so nice people wont be nice to you. Fighting back is something I wont feel shameful about, because it never stopped me from doing it completely anyway.

I was already reaching this on my own though. This was just more coffins, more nails. This didnt need to happen. We know our government let this happen. Its still letting it happen. Im not sure when Im getting my vaccine. My big brothers sick of quarentine and keeps trying to get us to go out. Sometimes I yield, and we go to a park, or the top floor of the parking garage. I get a vegan hotdog from nearby. We talk and laugh and were genuinely just. Boys being boys.

I shouldn't have to deal with parent shit anymore. I do though, especially since two out of three are unemployed and we can really only afford to live here cause of them (they owe me if anything though. Especially with my brother and these animals) I hope I can get a job soon. Or maybe even go back to school. Im lucky I had so much saved up (for top surgery, which I guess wont happen before Im 25 like I really tried for. I wouldve done it before now, but texas waitlists and rules kept holding me up. I literally went to an appointment in dallas, a 4 hour drive, just to found out the surgeon canceled on me for the second time)

Its incredibly depressing, and I know Im lucky to have had that stash. So many people didnt have anything and lost so much. People lost people. Half a million at this point. I remember when it got to 300,000 and I just?? Felt so awful it was so close to how many people we lost to AIDS. Its over that by so many now. It doesn't really stop, does it??

Is that catholic guilt?? Or maybe just irish guilt in general. Is it something I inherited or earned through all the end of the worlds and once in a lifetime recessions Ive been through. Im not sure how many off the top of my head, theyve been coming since I was so small and its always more and more. Im not even catholic anymore. I cant stop being irish though, even though the brits tried (and succeeded. Weve lost a lot. The current royal cotastrophy is bullshit as well, the only person who deserves a royal title is from Meniappolos

My home is decorate all inside for st patrick's day. My big brother loves it so Im going all out, and its def making me feel much more irish then usual (which is a lot Im over half)

I think I just wanted to say Im not the same. I hope I can still be happy an obnoxious is public. I wonder if I remember how

#TIRED #happy covid anniversary #time to post this without reading it lmao #long post #rambles

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deafwestnewsies · 5 years

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stop and stare

The Losers must keep living after the summer of ‘58. Living and breathing the air that was stolen from the victims of that horrible monster.

richie x eddie, bill x stan

read it also on my ao3 and ff.net!

This town is colder now, I think it's sick of us

It's time to make our move, I'm shakin' off the rust

There were whispers now. Whispers that Eddie just couldn’t seem to shake.

As he walked through the pharmacy aisles, searching for the bandaids with the little prong things on the end that wouldn’t fall off when he moved his elbows, he heard the first whispers. “That little Kaspbrak boy. Over there. So tragic, what he did to his mother.” Eddie’s back stiffened at the other woman’s titters as the pair of old ladies walked away from the cough syrups. Not even knowing who they were, he glared at their backs until they strolled into the next aisle. Swiping whatever bandages were in front of him and stowing them in his front pocket, Eddie stormed out of the store and into the alley behind it.

Bill’s expectant gaze met him first as he held out his hand. Eddie put the box of gauze down and stood near the wall, almost leaning, but not willing to risk the germ exposure. Everyone watched with bated breath as Bill’s steady hands cleaned out the gash in Mike’s arm and began dressing the wound. His strong hiss of pain made Eddie jump and cover his eyes, making him feel four years old again. He felt a pair of arms wrap around him, covering his face from the scene and murmuring It’ll be okay, Eds. He’ll be okay. Not having the willpower to correct the boy on the juvenile nickname, Eddie relaxed slightly into Richie’s chest and tried not to wince at the wimpers coming from Mike.

Henry Bowers might’ve been gone, but that did not mean there were other gruesome bullies waiting anxiously to take his place. Bullies who were just as mean (because when there wasn’t a maniac clown to deal with, there were tenth graders) and just as vicious (because Derry was cruel that way) and just as armed. This time it meant waiting for Mike on the path he always took into town with a barrage of insults and a serrated blade. When he retold the tale later, clutching his bleeding arm and staining his work boots, Mike said that they called him names that even Mike wasn’t really allowed to say, that they had heard he was one of the crazy kids who claimed they were attacked by a demon. If you want something to be scared of, boy, we’ll give it to you. Ain’t no monster under your bed. They had whispered it, right before slashing his arm wide open.

That was the latest town gossip, and the whispers that seemed to invade every moment of Eddie’s waking life. A group of seven kids emerged from the decaying house on Neibolt street, bloody yet victorious, when eight had entered. They would tell anyone who would listen that they fought off a killer clown, the same that had killed Betty Ripsom and ripped off Georgie’s arm and left him for dead. Instead of believing the children, everyone made snide remarks about the poor Bowers, both father and son dying under mysterious and inexplicable circumstances. Of course, the initial blame was handed directly to the Loser’s Club, but as the investigation went on they found that the blood on their clothes belonged only to each other and the fingerprints on the knife used to kill Detective Bowers didn’t have a match. They still spent a night in jail. One cold, dark night with only one another to keep warm.

So no, it wasn’t a surprise when Mike came staggering up to the Aladdin, where they had all planned to meet. Each of them had been attacked at different times, some getting it worse than others, (people liked to pick on the color of Mike’s skin, the way Eddie blushed when he walked into the boy’s locker room, Ben’s size. The list could go on.) and every time, they banded together and stood as a united front. There would always be a small voice in the back of their minds, however. The same that played in Eddie’s as he clung to Richie, trying to be strong for Mike’s sake. Maybe this town is as sick of us as we are of them.

I've got my heart set on anywhere but here

I'm staring down myself, counting up the years

Richie began making the plans absentmindedly, mostly as a way of escape during boring classes and sleepless nights. As soon as he turned eighteen, he would turn on his heels and run from Derry, run from all of the monsters who lived here, run from the clown and his parents and everyone who had ever called him useless. He didn’t quite know where he would run to, but the maps in his mind always led somewhere bright, where it didn’t rain quite as often and he could wear his shorts during the winter time.

At sixteen, he realized that his daydreams could all be tracked with some scraps of paper, red yarn, and a bulletin board, so he began doing exactly that. Behind a poster on his wall, Richie began sketching out the Great American Roadtrip (Richie Tozier Edition). First, he would work on making sure the truck he had inherited was reliable enough to drive across the country.

He began working part time in the town’s auto shop, picking up spare pieces wherever he could and making some half-hearted tips. The only reason Mr. Kurtz, the head mechanic, had hired the boy was that for the most part, he lived oblivious to any town gossip. All of Richie’s coworkers avoided him like the plague and tried to whisper warnings to Kurtz when he first began the job. Staring curiously at the gangly boy who kept his head down and did all of his work in a prompt fashion, the man waved all of the rumors away. “Leave the boy be,” he’d respond. “Ain’t nothing wrong with a tale to tell.”

With a decent engine and enough money to make it wherever he was planning on going, Richie began looking for work that he could do while he was out there. He wasn’t half bad at the whole mechanic thing, and once he was nearing eighteen he began to consider it very seriously. Richie, ever the trashmouth, could still make whole crowds hysterical with a well-timed joke and a fake voice or two, but he didn’t dare tell anyone that he almost wished he could do that for a living. Maybe that was why he finally settled on Los Angeles, a place that people would speak of in hushed voices and stars in their eyes. It was seemingly perfect, except for one minor detail.

It was dirty. Not that that bothered Richie, of course, he once had a record of not showering for three weeks and two days. No, this would bother someone else, someone who had always been in the back of his mind, someone who Richie just couldn’t imagine living without so he put him on this metaphorical trip, right alongside him. Eddie Kaspbrak and Richie Tozier had done everything together since the beginning of time, and now Richie was going to ask him to do one more thing that would change their life completely. So Richie set off to do the final thing on his checklist: Ask Eddie to throw his entire life away and be reckless, for the first time in his tiny, asthmatic life.

The knock on the Kaspbrak’s door seemed too loud, too forceful, and he winced when Sonya, Eddie’s evil hag of a mother, answered the door. “Hey-y-y-y, Mrs. K. Eddie ‘round?” Her frown was enough to tell him exactly where Eddie was (down at the Barrens) and how she felt about it. (She hated it.) “See ya later Sonya!” Richie shouted as he turned and began running in the right direction. Her grumbling was lost on deaf ears as he could only hear the wind whistling through his hair and the sun beating down.

By the time he arrived, Richie was sweaty and completely out of breath. He wasn’t sure why he had run, maybe it was just the feeling in his chest that if he didn’t ask Eddie right now he’d explode. So when he saw Eddie peacefully reading a book on top of a blanket and slathered in sunscreen, Richie also couldn’t explain the way his heart fell into his feet.

“Richie?” Eddie called, book sliding to the floor. He smiled so warmly at Richie that he had to remind himself to move his feet, lift them off the ground, one by one.

He settled on the ground next to him. “Hey Eds. I’ve got somethi-”

“Don’t call me Eds.”

The sentence that Eddie had said before, maybe a thousand times over, made Richie’s throat ache with familiarity. Suddenly he felt twelve again, with glasses too big for his face and feelings that he would never be allowed to talk about with anyone. “Eds. Please listen to me.” Eddie made a displeased noise, but leaned his chin in his hands and gazed up at Richie with wide, expectant eyes. “I’ve been thinking,” He began, nervously pushing at the bridge of his glasses. “That I can’t stay here. Derry, I mean. There’s just too much shit to remember and now that we’re older and everyone still manages to hate us- and I hate them, I think. I don’t wanna ever spend another moment here if I don’t have to. So uh, I’m leaving. Four days, to be exact.”

Eddie’s eyes kept widening, kept growing at a pace that was almost worrisome. “Four days?” He whispered. “Four days and you leave me? How could you, Rich! We swore we would never-”

“I want you to come with me.” Richie cut his rambling off.

“No. Absolutely not.” Eddie said it with an air of finality that made Richie almost unwilling to fight back.

“Eds…” He almost whispered.

They were so close, their noses only inches apart and staggered breathing intertwining. Eddie turned away suddenly, looking at a spot that was somewhere over the creek. “Don’t call me Eds. I’m not moving away with you, Tozier. My whole life is here. My college is here. My mom is here. It’s selfish of you to even think I’d go.”

He felt his heart splinter into a million pieces. “Okay.” Richie said dumbly. “Thank you for giving me my answer.” Eddie’s sniff filled the air, and Richie realized he wasn’t the only one on the brink of tears. “Eddie?” The smaller boy’s head turned slightly, still not making full eye contact. “Please tell me one more thing. Did you ever… did you ever-” He cut himself off before he let his trashmouth be the death of him again. The insinuation was enough. Eddie understood.

It was a bold move, but one Richie had to make before he left for good.

Eddie’s eyes swept over the creek one last time as a perfect tear rolled down his cheek. “No,” he whispered softly. “I don’t think I did.”

Richie left four days early on the Great American Roadtrip (Richie Tozier Edition). He was set on anywhere but here, but he left his heart in a diddly little town in Maine, on a creekbed.

Steady hands just take the wheel

Every glance is killing me

His knuckles were turning white with force as he gripped the leather steering wheel, trying desperately not to crash the car. The nerves of driving back into his hometown were practically choking him, ghosts of the past reaching down into his throat and cutting off all circulation until he had to pull over to the side of the road. Gulps of air came flooding in as Ben stared at his surroundings.

It was a bright, sunny day, unusual for the middle of April, and he was parked right underneath a cheery sign that read Welcome to Derry! The irony was enough to make him laugh, but it escaped as more of a wheeze, and Ben hit his head on the steering wheel. Truth be told, he really couldn’t pinpoint the reason he was so nervous to be back in Derry. Life was halfway terrible when he was a kid, but that was because of childhood bullies that would sneer awful remarks at him on the playground. Surely they had all grown up, right? No one would call him fatso or loser when he walked past the shops in town, even though the storekeepers were the same as his middle school tormentors. Ben knew that he could walk through town and name the baker, the town drunk, the new ninth grade science teacher, because no one left Derry. No one left, no one came.

Benjamin Hanscom was what most would call an anomaly, because he got to escape the fate of a childhood growing up in Derry. Ben, a beautiful redhead named Beverly, (January embers, Ben thought in the back of his mind. What did that mean?) and someone he could only remember as Richie the Trashmouth. These were the kids who actually made it out of the small town. There was a postcard tucked under his bed in a box of junk addressed to a house in Connecticut. Ben had moved there was he was fifteen, four years after- Ben couldn’t quite remember what that was after. Four years after something important happened. Something that made receiving the postcard fill his stomach with dread.

December 12th, 1965

Ben! We’ve missed you! Wish you would write more, Stan thinks you’re pulling a Bev on us and never looking back. I told him that you’d never forget about your old panty waists back in Derry. Stan says hi, by the way. Yes. Hello Ben. Miss you. So do Eddie and Mike. And that’s what I’m writing to you about! Guess who made it out! The trashmouth himself! Richie upped and left for California two days ago without telling any of us. For some reason I can’t find it in me to be mad at him because I’m so damn proud he made it out. Eddie’s real bummed though. Only speaks when he needs to and always leaves early. But it’s fine though. Richie’s like you and Bev, he’ll really make it now! Maybe he’ll go the rest of his life without seeing It. Sorry, not a funny joke. Stan’s laughing a little bit, though. And that means it was probably not a great joke. We miss you, Ben. Please try to write. We sent you some stuff to inspire your inevitable poems of your life and times here in the shithole.

Losers forever,

Bill Denbrough

Ben pulled the box from his backseat now, the strange urge that had him bring it with him now telling him to rifle through. A small, leather bound notebook with the title Derry’s Unofficial History by Mike Hanlon. There was nothing else written, just an ominous page written by a boy he didn’t remember. A green bouncy ball. Handful of arcade tokens. A bridge built with toothpicks. One bottle cap off of a cheap brand of vodka. Shoelaces tied into a noose. A book of town history. Finally, another postcard, splattered in something red, smelled vaguely cherry-like, and written in handwriting Ben would never be able to recognize.

Your hair is winter fire.

January embers,

My heart burns there too.

(Really takes ya back, huh Ben?)

Back to what, though? Ben had read this poem a million times over and still, nothing ever rang a bell. It was like having a kernel of popcorn stuck in your gums or a phantom rock in your shoe. Always in the back of his mind and never seeing the light of day.

Giving the poem one last glance and then tossing the box to the side, Ben slowly started the car again. He drove past the sign and into the main center of town, just a row of damp store fronts with sad, dull signs advertising the different sales. All of a sudden Ben couldn’t quite remember what he was here to accomplish, why he had left his comfortable life to visit the place he grew up. Nostalgia wasn’t the answer since there was nothing to reminisce about, just a handful of vague emotions that left him feeling uneasy.

Thinking he should just turn around and go home, Ben began to pull a U-turn when he saw a man standing on the corner of the street. He had a vendors cart with him, but there was no description as to what he was selling, just a bunch of red balloons tied to the handle. Ben couldn’t quite see his face since the balloons swaying in the nonexistent breeze covered him up. As he turned around and drove back up the street, he glanced in his rearview mirror once more. The balloons were gone. The man locked eyes with Ben and leered, for just a second, long enough to make his blood run cold. His smile was terribly wide, lips stretching over his teeth in an inhumane way and pulling the flesh to be shiny and tight. Black holes stood where eyes normally did. Big orange puff balls suddenly decorated the man’s apron. When Ben whipped around in his seat to get a better look, there was nothing left. Just a single red balloon, floating up, up, up.

Time to make one last appeal

For the life I live

No one said a single word. If they even tried, Stan shut them down. “Shut up.” He’d say, even if Richie began thinking of a joke. There was no room for laughter in a holding cell.

They had been arrested and Stan was trying to figure out a way of telling his father without being murdered before he was bar mitzvah-ed. Well, more murdered than the crazy fucking killer clown had tried to accomplish before Richie clobbered him over the head with a baseball bat and they all just started screaming and throwing things and at some point Stan definitley ran him through with an iron rod. But that was nothing compared to Mr. Uris and a good reason to yell. No, the true horror awaited him when he got home tonight. He could already see his mustache trembling with anger, the red creeping up the sides of his neck.

Stan took a deep breath and clenched his fists, feeling the crescent of his nails bite into the soft skin on his palms. This was momentary distraction from the monster headache he currently had, courtesy of the painting lady. A shudder ran through him as he thought about the woman who wasn’t truly a woman, just an evil twist of a face that had skittered at him, like a cockroach.

“Guys?” He called out, the panic settling in. “Guys, where’d you go?” No response. The quiet hung in the air, heavy, only penetrated by random drops of water. Stan swept the flashlight around, trying to figure out which pothole he had just emerged from, when a piercing giggle erupted out of nowhere. “Hello?!” His voice more frantic, more desperate for Richie to just be fucking with him in a bad moment, for Bev to start breaking out in her normal peals of laughter and reveal that she had been okay this whole time. The laughter was more of an echo this time, sending chills down his spine. It was an echo… but it was closer. Closer. Closer.

Behind him!

Like the sound of his mother’s drumming nails when she was irritated with him, the lady in the painting flew at him. Stan jerked backward only to hit the wall, knocking the wind out of him, rendering him useless for a second. That was all she needed. Her smile widened as rows of teeth, dank and dripping with gray water, flashed in the quickly dimming beam of his flashlight. He screamed, screamed with terror and hope that Bill would come flying out to save the day, but her jaws stretched and suddenly he could only feel unimaginable pain. Her teeth bit into his skin and he had given up screaming, and now was writhing around, which made her clench down harder on the sides of his face. Stan was giving into the darkness that crept into the sides of his vision when a loud clang rang through the sewers and he heard a bewildered “What the fuck is that thing?”

The woman leeched off into the darkness before Stan could register what had happened, and suddenly there was a crowd of people surrounding him. Stan! Stan, are you okay? Stan please say something! S-S-S-Stan! Stan’s eyes flew open at the sound of Bill’s voice and he immediately began screaming again. “You left me!” He scrambled backward and hit the wall again. “You all left me and you swore you wouldn’t!” Hot tears ran into the wounds, causing them to sting. When did he start crying? Still pushing back at them, accusing them of things beyond their control, Stan began growing hysterical. “You left me! You left me! You

‘ve left me no choice, laddies.” Mr. Nell said, causing Stan to jump back into the present. “I hafta call your parents ta come getcha in the mornin’.” Nobody but Richie was bold enough to groan at this statement, and he only did after the policeman was out of sight. Stan knew he was in for it once he got home. He might’ve almost died three hours ago, but he was definitely never going to see his twelfth birthday.

Leaning his head against the wall, Stan tried to close his eyes and ignore the pounding in his head. Some shuffling noises were made as Eddie curled into Richie, buried himself in the fabric of his t-shirt and Richie threw an arm around the smaller boy. Beverly made no noise while tipping her head onto Ben’s shoulder and squeezing Mike’s arm, and both boys smiled softly in response. For a moment, Bill stayed completely still, but then reached for Stan’s hand. Stan jerked his eyes back open to only find Bill staring at him with the inevitable question in his eyes- Are you okay? Lacing their fingers together and squeezing hard, Stan closed his eyes again.

In the morning he wasn’t only berated for coming out of the Neibolt street house half alive, but also that the Uris couple found their son lying cheek to cheek with that no-good Denbrough boy, fast asleep with their limbs entangled together. He got an earful, but Stanley didn’t mind much. He felt much braver than he ever had before.

Stop and stare

I think I'm moving but I go nowhere

Beverly Marsh was almost fourteen years old and she was trying desperately to remember the name of the boy with bug-eyed glasses. It began as a joke she was trying to tell to Ella, another freshman who kept her head down and avoided the popular girls at all costs. “Tangled up there, lass?” Beverly had remarked when Ella came out of the bathroom stall with her skirt caught in her underwear. The girl laughed and asked what accent that was supposed to be, and Beverly began to answer when she caught herself short. “Well… it’s called the Scottish Cop.” She said slowly. “This boy… he used to do it all the time… even straight to a policeman’s face.” Ella then laughed once more and led them both out of the bathroom, a place they never willingly spent more time if they didn’t have to. (Another feeling Beverly couldn’t quite place- restrooms made her nervous. Like she was helpless.)

Spending the rest of the school day thinking it over, she still didn’t have a name when she pulled her bike up to her aunt’s back door. A quick hello and a dash up the stairs led Beverly onto the floor of her bedroom, thinking about her life in Derry.

She was born in Derry, Maine. Raised in a house with light blue shutters and a broken living room window. Inside lived Beverly and Al Marsh, a sweet child with cherub cheeks and a father who liked to beat his daughter senseless whenever he had the opportunity. Al had died in that house too, but from what? A lot of dying was happening, Beverly could remember that much. That’s why she was sent to Portland. Her father… but who else? Who else had died- G-G-Georgie. Georgie Denbrough. Little brother of Big Bill Denbrough, a tall boy who had a stutter but also a sweet dimple and layers of freckles that Beverly suddenly remembered being incredibly charmed by. Bill was the leader of the ragtag group of kids that followed him around on his heels and took heed of every word he stuttered out, and Beverly was no different. Like a puppy and it’s owner, Beverly saw stars when she looked at Bill.

That was a long time ago. She was tougher now, she didn’t let any boys tell her what to do or when to do it. Not that the boys she had loved back in Derry were mean, they were just in charge. Beverly was the captain of her own destiny now.

However, there were days when a sickly feeling would crawl up the back of her neck and make her turn around fast, for one second, to find nothing but a breeze behind her. There were days when walking into a bathroom meant going straight to the toilet to throw up, because the sight of white-tiled walls made her inexplicably nauseous. There were days when she would cross to the other side of the street to avoid a storm drain with an open grate. There were days when Beverly Marsh did not feel in control at all, and she wished that Bill Denbrough was there to tell her what to do.

He was back in Derry, however, and sent her postcards every once and awhile to remind her. They were never waxing letters of love and longing, (although she had one of those too, but it stayed in the back of her closet and in the back of her mind) but instead cheerful reminders to write to her old pals back in Derry. She had tried once, but after crying in frustration when she couldn’t figure out the name of the place they used to spend all of their time, that dusty forest with the great big cliff drop off, the letter went into her wastepaper basket. Beverly now kept the postcards in a plastic pencil case box at the top of her closet.

They now sat scattered around her as she tried to figure out the kid’s name. Bill’s letters mentioned Stan the Man, Trashmouth, Eddie, Benny Boy, and Mike, but Beverly couldn’t decipher the differences between all of them. It was like they were characters in a book she had read long ago, all blending together to make a ball of personality- Someone hated taking their shirt off when they swam, another kept an inhaler glued to his hand, one worked on a farm and brought them all apples when the season was right. Bill was the only one that stood out in her mind, but that was because he had always stood out. He was first the boy with the dead brother. He then became the leader of the group. Bill never wore glasses, though, this much she could remember.

Giving up after a last ditch skim through the letters, Beverly lied down on her bed and curled up into a ball. Perhaps it was for the better that she couldn’t quite remember Derry. After all, she had left her father there, and that was definitely for good.

In the morning, Beverly had forgotten all about the conundrum of the boy with the bug-eyed glasses and ate her toast and jam in complete peace. After kissing her aunt on the cheek and grabbing her brown bagged lunch, she mounted her bike (an old, rickety thing that glinted in the sun and caused her aunt to worry when she made a sharp turn around the corner of the neighborhood) and lifted her fist in the air, crowing with triumph, “Heigh ho, Silver away!”

Yeah, I know that everyone gets scared

But I've become what I can't be

He dropped to the floor, clutching his ears and trembling. The bang of the gun was too much for him to handle, even though it had been ten years since he had a reason to actually fear it. Staring the sheep right in the eyes to mirror the eye contact Henry had held with him before attempting to blow his brains out was a bitter pill for Mike to swallow.

One he often choked on.

The farmhand, a younger boy named Thomas, tried to hide the sigh that escaped as Mike took a deep breath, calming the tremors that ran through his body. He didn’t chastise him for the disrespect, because he knew he would’ve done the same thing if he was fifteen and working for a crazy man. “Do you mind finishing up here?” Mike asked. The boy nodded and picked up the abandoned gun, hanging it off of the shelf and slung the sheep around his shoulders. Mike’s stomach turned with the sight of blood dripping from it’s head, the one he had just put a bullet through, and pushed through the barn doors.

Dropping to his knees and taking in deep gulps of breath, Mike let the heat of the sun beat down on his back. The memories of that day were too vivid in his mind. Things were never truly the same afterwards, he knew it, the Losers Club knew it, even his parents understood that there was a change in their boy. He was no longer the delicate yet strong boy they had raised. He no longer wanted to explore all of the unbeaten paths of Derry. Mike had lost the spark of curiosity that made so many people love him. Each member of the club had reached a level of adulthood that no eleven year old should be able to understand.

They handled it in their own ways. Beverly, for starters, moved away. Completely. It wasn’t really her choice, but she wasn’t arguing. She had told them all once, in a hushed voice at one of Bill Denbrough’s sleepovers, that she heard noises in her house still. Dripping water pipes. Child-like whispers. Faint circus music. Beverly Marsh left Derry with a skip in her step and a promise to write them all at least once a month with a review of the latest horror movie in theaters. (They never heard from her again. Bill kept sending letters, however. They would gather around and write it together, jutting in with their own handwriting and stories of things they thought she would like. Mike always wrote lengthy descriptions of the butterfly migrations. Bill would sign each one with Losers Forever.)

Bill began to write. He was always good at english and he came up with the best lies to get them out of scrapes, but this was something different. Pages and pages of horror stories began surfacing, dropped off at their doors with varying notes. (“Is this something to actually be scared of?” “Can you check my grammar?” Mike was always asked to see if the story was historically accurate, to see if pilgrims would’ve been in Utah during November, 1650, or something of that nature.) The group never acknowledged it, but the stories became increasingly real, increasingly familiar, until they just had a specific recount of the day at the Neibolt house and they all gathered together and cried, as thirteen year olds are wont to do.

As if nothing ever happened, Stanley Uris would refuse to talk about anything that had occurred. He began spending less time with the group as well, and they all hated to see the strained look on Bill’s face when any of them questioned where Stan was. Sometimes they saw him riding his bike around town, or birdwatching in the park, and none of them really said anything about it. Stan was affected in a different way that day, because he had to face the monster alone. When they made a promise to come back and fight if It ever resurfaced, Stan’s hand shook when he held out the broken coke bottle. He was with them until he wasn’t.

Richie and Eddie became RichieandEddie and no one was brave enough to bring it up. Not brave, there was no bravery in that sort of confrontation, but no one was willing to take away something that made them happy. They each had their thing, and they happened to be each others. So if cuddling so tightly you couldn’t distinguish who was who during movies nights, Richie comforting Eddie alone during his panic attacks, them spending more time together than with the Losers made them happy, what else could they do except stand there and think Thank God we are safe and we have one another?

Ben and Mike began spending more time together as well. They both migrated toward the library and found solace in the quiet stacks of books, arming themselves with knowledge and words instead of weapons and fire. It began subconsciously, showing up at the same time because they had wordlessly made a schedule, sharing a table and putting each other’s books away as a favor. Then one day Mike wasn’t there because of some chores and Ben called his house breathlessly wondering if Mike was okay and if he could speak to him, please? Suddenly showing up was a lot more purposeful now, Ben bringing two sleeves of Necco Wafers, Mike having enough paper for both of them to take notes. Library days became Mike’s favorite because he knew that he wouldn’t have to face the world for a while, and he had a great pal beside him.

This is where Mike found himself drifting to, ten years later. Benjamin Hanscom had left Derry when they were fifteen years old, but Mike still loved the library and the peace it brought him. The rattle of his beat-up Ford slowed to a stop outside of the Derry City Library and Mike suddenly didn’t feel as nauseous as he once did. Greeting the librarian with a quick smile, he took his spot at the table he had occupied for so many years and cracked open whatever book was lying on the end. A tale of princesses and knights in shining armor.

The lazy afternoon light filtered in as time went on, and Mike looked up. The clock on the wall told him it was definitely time for him to head home. As he put the book back, something etched into the surface of the table caught his eye. Result of a day where Ben and Mike tried to convince the others to meet at the library, Richie had taken out his pen knife and carved LOSERS FOREVER BITCH into their sacred reading table. Ben had almost cried when he saw it and Mike threatened to punch him before Bill had stepped in and calmed everyone down. Mike knew that it was Eddie who had snuck back in and scratched out the ‘BITCH,’ risking the chance that he would be teased mercilessly. He grazed the carving lightly, remembering fondly of the moments where he felt invincible standing next to the rest of his friends. He felt a surge of protection even seeing it, feeling guarded by the ghosts of the Losers Club. And by God, isn’t that what Mike wanted? To feel safe again, even if for one day?

Stop and stare

You start to wonder why you're here not there

The top button of his shirt was making his neck itch something fierce. He wasn’t quite sure why he had to wear it so tightly around his neck, but the striped tie he also had held it up fastidiously. The itch, in the end, did not matter. Because when you’re attending your little brother’s funeral, trivial things like the top button of your shirt seemed to be important for only seconds at a time.

Technically, the funeral had already passed. Bill had spent the morning in the local church, holding his mother’s hand as she cried. He had been strangely stoic for a just-turned eleven year old boy, but maybe it was to show his father that he was a man, that he was strong enough to be his son. It didn’t matter. Zach and Sharon Denbrough cried through the entire service, and their adventurous (alive) son sat between them, unblinking. On the way home Sharon accidentally caught Bill’s eye in the mirror and for the first time in his young life, she did not smile back.

Bill’s top button was itching him as he sat in the middle of the upstairs hallway listening to the people that were gathered downstairs. A low murmur crept up from the crowd, people apologizing to his parents while trying to mask their secret relief that it wasn’t their own child’s funeral and eating crudites. For a while Bill had stood with them, but he got antsy and his dad tapped him on the back, relieving him of the duty. Not really sure where he wanted to be, (not his room because he could see Georgie’s bed and Georgie’s toys and Georgie’s things but there wasn’t a Georgie anymore) Bill slid down the wall and hid from the rest of the people.

He untied the tie around his neck with clumsy fingers, just pulling at the knot until it came loose, and then unbuttoned the itchy culprit of a top button. Just as he sighed with relief, pairs of footsteps came bounding up the stairs and almost stepped right on top of him. “Hole-lee shit!” Richie exclaimed. “I faouwnd ‘im, boys!” For an inexplicable reason, hearing Richie’s terrible Cowboy Joe voice relaxed Bill just a bit more, and looking into the eyes of his best friends made him release all of the tension in his small, eleven year old shoulders.

Eddie and Stan looked impeccable, as if anything else was to be expected of them. Both in little suit jackets that were broken out for special occasions, like Sabbath when Stan’s Bubbe came to dinner or Christmas when Eddie was dragged by the ear to church for an incredibly boring amount of time. Richie was in a clean pair of jeans and a button-up, since his parents did not believe in buying such an expensive item of clothing for a growing boy. The trio looked very nice, but they also looked out of place, as if their very faces told the story that they should not be dressed in their nicest clothes on a Thursday afternoon. The slump in their shoulders and pity in their eyes said I should be playing in the sunshine, not mourning the loss of my best friend’s little brother. However, there they stood. At the feet of the boy with the dead brother.

“H-H-Hey guys.” Bill said quietly, smiling half-heartedly up at them. They all crowded down with him and wordlessly wrapped their arms around each other, making Bill the center of their small universe. He said nothing, just let them pat him slightly and make comforting noises for a second before slinging an arm around Stan. A small sniffle escaped from him, and the boys all let go for a second. They settled in the middle of the hallway, a tight circle with their knees overlapping each other. Eddie was wrapped up in Richie’s side, and Bill didn’t let go of Stan.

They still sat in silence and watched Bill fight back tears, tears that he wasn’t allowed to shed in front of his father, tears that he would probably get made fun of by Richie for later, but tears that suddenly spilled over when Stan carefully bumped his forehead against Bill’s. The small act of sincerity reminded Bill that he would never be able to feel Georgie’s small hand grasp for his when they were crossing the street, and now he was a blubbering mess. He didn’t dare try to say anything because he knew his stuttering would be terrible, but the other boys seemed to understand everything he was feeling. So Bill just cried, and his best friends held him while he did.

Later, Bill sat on his bed, his feet dangling off of the edge, staring at his closed door. Eddie was brushing his teeth, Richie looking through his meager record collection, and Stan sat next to him, reading from a book about birds. “Hoopoe is a national bird of Israel and one of the birds that were considered sacred in-”

“I-I-I-I wis-sh-sh it had b-b-been me.” Bill cut Stan off. The soft slap of a record hitting the floor came from Richie. “H-He d-d-d-didn’t deserve t-to d-d-die. Sh-Sh-Should’ve b-b-been m-m-m-me.” The Big Book of Birds closed with a thump. “I s-s-sent hi-him out th-th-there with-thout anyo-o-ne.” Stan reached for his hand, but Bill drew it away with a suddenness that made Stan jump. “D-D-Don’t p-p-pity me. I-I-it’s t-t-true, and I-I-I c-c-can’t take it b-b-back.”

Bill jumped off the bed and flung open his bedroom door. He stared at Georgie’s bed with a hard look in his eye and then made the decision that he would never close the door again, because he deserved to be reminded of the thing he had done, and he wanted to make things fair. Georgie had died because of him and Bill was going to make himself pay.

And you'd give anything to get what's fair

But fair ain't what you really need

This isn’t fucking fair, Bill thought. My friends are going to die because of me, and that just isn’t fair. The clown had him by the throat, his breath hot and rancid and making Bill feel slightly dizzy. “As I feed on your fear.” It finished, giving that wide, maniacal grin. “Or.” He tried turning his head to look at the thing, but it tightened its grip, the talons biting into his flesh. “You'll just leave us be. I'm taking him, only him. And then I'll have my long rest and you will all live to grow old and drive and lead happy lives until old age takes you back to the weeds.”

Bill’s shoulders fell with relief. His friends could live, really live, have long lives where they got to do more than build a dam in the Barrens or watch crappy horror movies all day long. All he had to do was convince them to leave. Their spouts of protest suggested otherwise, but he knew that they would go if he told them to. He was Big Bill after all. Always the one to make the decisions. “Leave,” he commanded. The room went quiet for a moment, because that’s what the world seemed to do when Bill Denbrough spoke. All of creation paused just to hear him speak. “I’m the one who dragged you all into this. Go!”

Like deer in headlights, his friends stared at him as they tried to make their decision. After a pregnant moment of silence, Richie took a step forward. “Sorry, Bill.” He shook his head. “I told you, Bill. I fucking told you, I don't want to die…” Bill took a deep breath. Richie was going to lead them all out of the sewers, Richie was going to save their lives, Richie was going to leave him to die. And Bill wasn’t even angry about it. “It's your fault. You punched me in the face, you made me walk through shitty water, you brought me to a fucking crackhead-house. And now… I'm gonna have to kill this fucking clown!” Before Bill could react, Richie swung his bat with the power of God himself. “Welcome to the Loser’s Club, asshole!”

A flurry of pipes being thrown and children grabbing onto his back and Bill being released from it’s terrible grasp then commenced. He immediately joined in on the fight and they all fought back, harder and harder until it took the form of a man none of them had seen before. Except Beverly.

The man had asked a question Bill did not understand, called her a name he had not heard before, when Beverly screamed a terrible and ugly scream and rammed an iron rod down his throat. They all watched as it flung itself down the larger sewer hole and stood together, beaten and bruised, but alive.

In the quiet, Bill came to a decision. Maybe his life wasn’t fair. If it was fair, Georgie would be almost seven by now and starting the second grade. If it was fair, he would be able to sit with his parents and feel the love and light his home used to carry. If it was fair, Stan would look at him just like Beverly did. His life wasn’t fair, but he tried his hardest to make it right. Bill fought for Georgie, for his parents, for his friends. Fair wasn’t what he needed. Bill needed things to be just.

hello this is really fucking long jesus @ me. anyways pls leave a comment and i will show up outside of your window at midnight with a boombox to serenade you

#it #it 2017 #it chapter one #it chapter two #it 2019 #eddie kaspbrack #richie tozier #ben hanscom #stanley uris #beverly marsh #mike hanlon #bill denbrough #stenbrough #reddie #reddie fanfiction #stenbrough fanfiction #it fanfiction

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aroll765 · 4 years

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Covid-19 and Me

Welcome to my blog about Covid-19 and Me. I’m Amanda. and it’s nice of you to stop by. I hope you’re staying safe, well, and AT HOME. Fun fact I love to write so this is looooong blog but I wanted to describe as much as I could to help someone and remember this intense scary time in our World. The last few days have been a whirlwind. I’m honestly still trying to wrap my brain around it, I’ve been extremely calm yet to panic or be in fear, I’ve found my zen place and by some miracle have been able to stay there even when I feel myself slipping ( crazy right? The anxious drama queen is the most calm out of everyone) but others not so much. I would rather you pray or send amazing positive good vibes to my family and friends that are extremely worrie, despite then playing it cool to me, my empath skills can pick up on everything and I know they are not okay, so send those prayers and good positive calming vibes to them cuz I got this. Okay here goes I want to be as detail oriented as possible. So put on some music, grab a cocktail, and read. I’m writing this, as an awesome friend suggested, so I can let you know how getting Covid-19 is for me. What happened, my symptoms, the onset of everything, the process, and hopefully I can ease someone else’s fear, anxiety, or save their life. Even if I help one person, than to me I’ll swallow all my insecurities about sharing my journey and putting everything out their for the world and I know it”ll be worth it. I know I’ll have haters too, but let them hate. We only drive out negativity and hate with love. So, yes I honestly didn’t want to share anything. I know people will judge me. It’s a very private personal matter. I don’t want more people worried about me than need to be or cause more fear, panic, paranoia, or be judged honestly. But again even if this helps only one, then okay it’s worth it to me. This is extremely serious not only in our community, but we here in the United States are the leading number of cases in the world, and I believe we haven’t even seen the impact yet. So yes it’s serious and it needs to be taken as such. STAY HOME! Stay safe. Stay healthy. I did everything as I was supposed to and I still got it but that doesn’t mean you will. Monday I was in my feels and sent my best friends videos on why I loved them, what they mean to me, and just had to express it. It’s like my body and intuition already knew I had it, I just didn’t pick up on it. Weird, maybe, but I am a very emotional sensitive loving person so telling people what they mean to me is really not out of the norm but sending 3-5 minute long videos is. I believe I am so sick so I can help spread awareness and help others take it serious! So one thing you should know is when I get sick, I do it right. I get real sick. I’ve had tummy issues for over a week now, I knew a sinus infection was coming over last weekend, as I rarely get them in my maxillary sinuses, but with the weather changes I thought okay...here we go. Then I had a lingering migraine for days it comes and goes and it’s nothing like my normal ones. It’s on the top of my head and the back of my skull and it comes in waves or a constant pain. But no vision loss, sensitive to sound, just very odd and different but painful. Monday I was feeling yucky and couldn’t get my sinus rinses to go threw, could tell I was swollen, bit of a sore throat but pushed thru. Wednesday awful migraine and extreme sinus pressure. When I get sinus infections they are normally my upper sinuses not the ones in my cheeks, but not this one. I was struggling. Thursday I woke up and knew I was for real sick and something was a bit off. It was sinus infection and probably bronchitis cuz it had moved in my airways but what is this horrid punching pain feeling in my back? My chest was tight. Dry cough. Terrible sore throat. Fever ,I think I lost or broke mine and haven’t bought a new one, cuz I was warm to touch but freezing. Felt achey and overall rough...but I had not slept very much or well. Regardless, I know my body well and I called my Dr. she was available within 30 minutes to have an appointment over the phone! We talked and she said it could be my usual stuff (sinusitis/bronchitis or walking pneumonia) but I also had symptoms of covid-19 so I would need to be screened. My inhaler I was trying to use it but having difficulty because I would start to cough so bad. I couldn’t get a deep enough breath. I do have medicine for a nebulizer but not the machine. A coworker has offered to let me borrow one if I needed it a few weeks ago when we were planning for this, but if I have corona virus I wasn’t leaving my home and risking getting others sick. Plus, if I couldn’t breathe to get the inhaler how would I breathe with the machine. I didn’t want to risk leaving my home really so I didn’t. She recommended I also buy a thingy they put on your finger to monitor your oxygen/heart rate, but warned me I wouldn’t be able to find one. So to look online and invest in one for the future and also a nebulizer and gave me some great advice. I get this about two maybe three times a year so it’s a good investment. She said to try and keep using the inhaler but not push it and called me in medicine (steroid and zpack) and to do the screening for Covid-19. She told me what app to download and so I did and logged in, and did the virtual screening process, it’s kinda like FaceTime! Super easy and you talk to a nurse. We were chatting, I answered questions, she had me walk around my home, did a certain breathing test—-the goal is to get to 30 and I only got to 10, she said I need to put you on hold a minute and I’ll be right back. She was so sweet and kind and I thanked her for working just like I did my Dr. She came back and the dr she was talking to over the phone at the hospital wanted me to come to the hospital. The dr hung up and the nurse said do you want to come or ride it out at home? I was like wait, what? She said the dr wants you to come in because of your breathing she’s marked you as severe case. You can’t walk to your bathroom without getting out of breath, coughing, wheezing so it’s a concern. I said no no I want to stay home and she agreed that was best, and changed me to moderate. She told me she had spoke to someone before me that was much worse that also decided to ride it out at home and this person was much older. I was like okay. Cool. I said ya sure? She said yes I think it’s best I’ve been doing this for weeks and yes you’re not well but if I didn’t have it I would be subjecting myself to more germs while sick, and I’m more comfortable at home and can rest easier. She told me if I got worse or trouble breathing to call back and they would arrange with the ER my arrival, if there wasn’t time and I needed to call 911 I would have to tell them I failed the screening and have Covid-19 symptoms so they could prepare themselves. I said so wait, I have it? She said you have all but one symptom, vomiting. Which I had done with the migraine. So basically yes but they only do screening and tests are limited and sent me a note in the app inbox and told me what to do and self quarantine for 7 days. She said they are there whenever and to call back the virtual screening and talk to a nurse if I needed to. (The 7 days is if you’re in a home with anyone else you HAVE to be in an isolated room and bathroom so no one else can get it) you also need to stay away from pets. I asked her how? I explained my cat is my life and she said well just don’t let the animal eat after you. Ewww I don’t do that anyway. After 7 days you quarantine for the additional 14-21 days. This 7 day thing is very confusing to some. I called back later that night with more questions. That nurse answered my questions and said even if I had come in there was no guarantee I would have been tested. You’re only tested if admitted. Testing is for the medical staff and high risk patients but to call my Dr in the morning, saying I failed the screening I have all but one symptom, and they should give me the test. Okay. So finally drifted off to sleep around 5/6am. It was an awful night. But surpassingly I still had not freaked out, cried, panicked, or had anxiety or anything, I was more worried about my loved ones and how they were handling this. I wake up Friday and I feel even worse. Like a plane and a train have hit me and ran me over. The pain in my back is like bricks are now punching me, someone is laying on the back of my chest, my chest is so tight and I’m getting sharp pains in my back and chest randomly. Mainly left back around shoulder blade and right front chest area, I can’t smell anything, taste is off but occasionally I can taste, I am wheezing no matter what. I’m sneezing. My throat feels like sandpaper fire, it’s just rough. I couldn’t get a deep enough breathe yesterday for my inhaler to get down into my lungs and today was extremely painful I just coughed trying to breathe before doing it. Tried again and coughed so bad I was dizzy. But, positive thoughts positive mind so I try and fake out my parents and called them each and told them I was feeling okay and trying to downplay it, so they could stop worrying. They don’t need to worry cuz I’m fine. I’m totes fine, just the normal crud right. So I change jammies and get ready for work at home. Oh, sitting up is awful!!! I’m nausea and dizzy and wow this is bad. But I can work I got this. But first I call my Dr. I’m getting that test!!! My Dr is working from home today...but they are amazing at the office and she said she would get to the bottom of this and figure out what to do and get back to me. Yes, I thanked her for working. You’ll see this is a pattern. It’s hard to breathe, I’m in so much pain but I’m okay, I can do this I keep telling myself. But I honestly know I’m different than ”normal stuff”. I see the Dr office is calling back, it’s someone else. She starts talking to me and we’re talking and she says Amanda, I’m looking at your chart and you were screened yesterday? I said yes. I failed. She said failed? I said I have all but one symptom. She said I am going to call the on call Dr and call you right back! Don’t put your phone down. I’m like ohhhh I bet they found me a test hahaha sweet. She called back fast. She said you need to get to the ER right now. I said ummm what? No no. I’m riding this out at home. We talked yesterday the screening nurses it’s all worked out. She said no, you have to go right now to the er your symptoms are worse, you’re wheezing and chest is tight, this virus moves fast and you could die. Go now! I said uhhh what!? But are you calling or do I or do I call the screening nurses cuz they said I can’t just show up we have to alert the er, I’m starting to spin, she interrupts me and said there’s no time...it’s fine GO NOW! I’m referring you and we are your PCP Office and they referred you back to us so we are telling you go now, By golly I’ve never put a mask and shoes on so fast and driven to the er that fast in my life. I sent out texts to those who had been chatting with me, And I called my dad. I knew if I heard my mom I was going to breakdown. So I had to call my dad and told him as calmly as I could that I was en route to the er per the dr office telling me I had to go right now because the virus moves fast and he said okay glad you’re going and I’ll tell mom just go and keep us updated. You grabbed your phone charger right? I was like ummm no. Crap but I’m fully charged love you!!! Then my bestie called me as I was pulling in. I shouldn’t have answered but knew she was worried! But that’s when I got a little scared and started crying. She assured me I was in the best hands and it would be okay. But pulling into the hospital parking lot it was so empty, a police vehicle had one of the entrances blocked off, we chatted and I cried and we said I love you. I walked in. That was a difficult walk. I tried to be calm but it was hard to breathe. I just kept thinking this is the longest walk ever! It was surreal to be there. I entered through the ER department, per my drs office telling me to go in there. You’re greeted by a security guard wearing a mask. I said I have covid-19 symptoms and was told to get to the ER now, he said please go in. I said thank you for working! I got a mask when I was in the waiting room of the lobby answering questions and I was the only one in there. A lady was there when I walked in but left and I could tell she was scared and I stayed as far back as I could from absolutely anyone and everyone! I thanked those working! I had to answer many questions and I was so winding I squatted down. I didn’t want to touch or sit down anywhere in case I did have corona virus...but man standing is hard. The nurse was working as quickly as she could. I was nervous and couldn’t think straight. They gave me a mask immediately too and I put it on wrong. A nice male nurse came out to the lobby and fixed it for me and put it on correctly while wearing gloves and a mask. When the nice nurse asking me so many questions wheeled me back in the ER I was scared but she had a good positive energy around here. It helped ease my fear. I’ve never seen or heard the ER so quite and no one around. Their is a section for us potential corona people and my goodness they have it organized and down to nearly perfection, it’s impressive at IU HEALTH BMH!!! It’s also terrifying. But I remained in my zen place. Idk how but I did. So we turned the corner and you see the hallway lined with red carts of equipment outside each room. My group of nurses were waiting for me outside the room. Over the speakers they announce “incoming patient room 38” so they are ready for when you’re wheeled back! I heard this ALL. DAY. I got in the room and they shut the big sliding glass door and curtain and I had to put on a gown. Then a nurse came in fully covered. Face mask, gloves, gown, protective eye wear. I was just thankful it wasn’t a hazmat suit. I would have cried and fully went into a panic attackS He was in the room with me for a long time. Other nurses stood outside, my private window view room, and handed him things through the crack of the door from the cart or ran and got him whatever was needed. This is so nothing was set down or touched by me or anything of the matter, I assume, Even when he was done touching me or near me he’d sanitize the gloves before taking them off and the gown and throw it in the bin before leaving the room. An outside nurse would slide the door open for him to fit thru and he’d slide out and it would be closed again. It’s extremely important they don’t touch anything as they could easily spread it or get it themselves. Everything was done with such precision and teamwork!!! AMAZING! Always nurses in the hall so if someone was in a room with a patient and their team of nurses were helping someone else, they would yell hey anyone in the hall that could hand me____. They had great spirits and were and are superhero’s in my eyes. At one point a janitor was cleaning my window door and he waved to me and I waved back. He gave me thumbs up or down and I did a thumbs up and tried to smile. It was just sweet. You better believe anyone I came in contact with I thanked! They were each taken back by that because it’s their job but I just had to thank them for being our hero’s!!! One nurse I said thank you, she said you already thanked me I checked you in, I said well I just appreciate ya all so much. She said rain or shine it’s what we do, I love what I do so I’m here. It makes me want to cry thinking about. I first got an EKG which was handed to my nurse in the room thru the opening. Another nurse stood in the hallway and recorded all info. After it was over he sanitized it so well and handed it back out to her. Again, he was in the room with me quite some time...To lighten the mood I made him and I plan out if zombies would attack what are game plan would be. But then I’d get coughing and oxygen levels would drop so the fun would be over til I would try to make another joke, because humor was the only way from keeping me from crying, being terrified and panicking. He was laughing himself. I said humor is getting me thru, he said I love your positivity!! You’re so sick and yet you’re a beacon of light. I said no sir, you are. The Dr came in and was amaaaaaaazing! He explained they would be testing for pretty much everything because they want to rule out as much as they can. So hence the ekg, tons of blood work, blood pressure monitored, I was hooked up to machines to monitor my heart I guess, cuz I accidentally took it off and boy did it make a loud annoying sound, iv of fluids, monitored my oxygen ya know all that fun stuff. My nurse got my iv thingy done in 1 poke, that rarely happens so I knew I was in great hands! He took so much blood! I was just like ya going to leave any for me? Again with the jokes. Then I’d have to stop cuz I couldn’t breathe. Dr. Also came in pretty quickly as my nurse was still working and charting things. He was dressed the same. He was awesome as well!!! I said thank you, he said what? I said thank you for doing what you do and helping me. He said I haven’t done anything yet. I said you’re here and you’re a hero thank you. He said wow, well it’s my job and I love it of course. Thank you. He explained that they were testing for everything; heart issues, blood clots, blood tests, flu to make sure it wasn’t any of that since I do have covid-19 symptoms he wanted to rule out that anything else could be going on, especially with my sinus and bronchitis history. The flu is going around as well. He explained that a few weeks ago if you tested positive for the flu you didn’t have covid-19 but NOW people are testing positive for both the flu and covid-19. He said it’s ever changing and he just has to make sure and rule out everything else. I was extremely grateful for his thoroughness and ALLLLLL my questions. He made me feel calm and in good hands in the chaotic scary situation I’m in. He said the virus does move extremely fast and it was so important that I listened to my dr and got here as fast as I did. He asked if I had been around or in contact with anyone who had it or symptoms. I said no and explained I had only been out a few times for groceries, gas, medicine, groceries to survive for a month. I explained everything I did and said I was the most cautious. Hand sanitizer with me, mask, washed hands constantly, stripped and washed clothes in hot water ASAP if I came in from outside, Clorox wipes highly touched surfaces etc. he said “it’s spreading like wildfire” He left and my nurse continued doing his awesome thing. He had been in a similar situation overseas before so I’m like I got the winning nurse suckers! Muhahahaha. He did things like take my temp (only time I removed the mask when he was in there) blood pressure, started iv, administers pain meds and a fever reducer, moves my bed up so I wasn’t wheezing and coughing so much...I feel like a few more things but I kinda lost track. He finally left and I was alone. I had the nurses call button, and a phone right next to me. I literally just was sitting/laying there taking everything in trying to remember how it looked and felt. I saw nurses walk by, some run by, janitors, people pushing machines, others calmly walking, but everyone had a face mask on! Another nurse would be walking by and I’d wave and they’d smile and wave back. You could tell they were trying to make us feel a sense of calmness and peace during this scary time. I witness patients being brought in, not many but I’d hear “incoming patient room 32” and I thought dang it no neighbor for me. I had a room kinda across from me and it was dark. I was kinda hoping for someone else to be there so I wouldn’t feel so alone. My friends who I told I was in the ER were amazing and I was keeping them entertained and them me. I was texting my family updates constantly as well as my besties. I was snap chatting friends. Anything to keep my mind occupied because I knew I would go into a panic attack which would cause even more distress. This big machine came rolling down the hallway. She stopped in front of my gorgeous window view room and I could see her putting on a gown and gloves and preparing and I thought, oh crap what’s that. My oxygen was dropping cuz of my panic. So I went to my zen place. Oxygen back up. She came in and it was an X-RAY machine! Yeah! They bring it to you so I put my mask on before she entered. I mean you do not leave that room! I thanked her for working. Again confusion. She said no problem happy to help I love what I do. See a pattern? Oh I just want to hug these heroes of ours! So she put this thing on my back. Told me to hold still and breathe in deep, that didn’t go well so we had to try again and move me over and she got it that time. She said I’d have results within probably 30 minutes. I thanked her again. She did the same as everyone else. Sanitized the gloves. Took off her gown. Sanitized again. Took off the gloves and someone opened the door for her. Okay, Back to people watching. But it wasn’t very hopping in the hallway. I thought of myself as an animal in the zoo locked behind glass. I feel sorry for them. I started to drift off and then would wake myself up hacking. Dr came and asked if he could stand at the door and had it slightly cracked, he didn’t have protective gear on, only a mask and the glasses, and I said oh of course. He told me that my blood work was great, flu test was negative, my vitals are the best in the er. However he feels I do have sinus infection and bronchitis and X-rays show I have pneumonia on my left lower lung, and my right lung has inflammation, and I have Covid-19, as I have all the symptoms. I just stared at him. (Hear people yelling codes and chaos something about respitory...his face changed and he looked around and said brb) and took off running with a slew of other nurses...idk where they were hiding. Then a second later he was back in my doorway and apologized profusely I said dr no need it’s a crazy intense time! He said where were we yes ok so this is...I cut him off and said doctor you are sure it’s my left lung? My right lung feels like it’s the one with pneumonia cuz it’s hurting and my back left area is hurting and feels like I’m being punched with bricks and everything in my chest front and back feels twisted all up. He explained how and why that is. He explained everything in such great detail and was just phenomenal. I can’t explain it. Then I said wait, so I have Covid-19? I’m just trying to process it all. He said you’re extremely sick. I said it’s how I roll and he just kinda laughed and said you poor thing. He said yes I am diagnosing you as being positive for covid-19 because you have every symptom and pneumonia. However, I’m not admitting you because your vitals are the best in the er, your age, and you are a healthy person. I’m admitting those with cancer, the elderly, and those with respitory illness. The only way to be tested is to be admitted and I just can not admit you when your vitals are the best, he said look your oxygen is back up to 100. But I’m only sending you home under “extreme caution” meaning if you can’t breath or get worse you immediately come back to the ER and we will admit you! You have to stay hydrated, get plenty of rest and stay quarantined for 7 days. I told him how scared I am to go home and ride this out alone when my dr office said the virus moves so quick and I could die. He said I understand and that’s why you’re under extreme caution and if anything changes you are to come back and we admit you. I just can not in good conscience admit you when you’re a healthy, young person who’s vitals are the best in this hospital. Which I understood. I hope I’ve helped describe it in the best way possible from my experience. Now the symptoms and onset: Diarrhea was first for I think 7-10 days until the other symptoms started (I could be wrong on the amount of days) then about 4-5 days before it was sinus problems that kept getting worse and slight throat off and on, then about 3-4 days before it was headaches/migraines but not my normal type. So if you are a chronic migraine suffer it will feel different. 1 day before which would have been Wednesday the migraine was awful and had vomiting with that and continually just didn’t feel well, couldn’t eat. The day they said I probably have Covid-19 and to start as DAY 1, Thursday. Day 1: Thursday morning I woke up feeling awful and sick. I couldn’t breathe out of my nose, migraine but again different like on top of my head and bottom of skull, and would go away and come back, still tummy issues but NO vomiting, my throat hurt and uvula swollen, sharp back pain, chest tightness, dry cough, occasional chest pain, chills, I think I had a fever but not 100% sure, and achey. I knew I was sick, it was sinus infection for sure and felt like bronchitis but also it hurt worse than that. Maybe walking pneumonia? But I don’t remember the back pain being that bad before. Barley slept. Just too much pain and coughing and muscle aches increased, couldn’t get comfortable, everything just hurt. Day 2: Friday morning when I woke up after just a few short hours oh my! I felt like I had been hit by a plane and a train and backed up over too. The chest pain and back pain was almost unbearable. Sore throat was worse, bright red and uvula swollen, it felt like sandpaper on my throat when I was swallowing, I couldn’t smell anything, wheezing even just laying there not doing anything, muscle aches and cramps, I woke up drenched in sweat but was freezing and couldn’t get warm, tummy issues with nausea, couldn’t really taste much, sneezing, dizzy, and just awful feeling. I felt like I couldn’t catch a good breath either. But I was determined to ride it out at home. Then as you know I had to go to the er. After the er the meds and the antibiotics they gave me and fluids I not only felt better I sounded and looked better! (I either am pale or red face when sick and fever and I was going back and forth between the two depending on the time of day) by Friday night I sounded almost normal, no wheezing, and had color back in my face!!! But it took me nearly 4 hours to finish 32 ounces of Gatorade because of my nausea and sore throat. I Barley slept. Rough night indeed. My pain level in the er was about a 7 sometimes 8, last night at times it would go to a 10 but drop back down quickly and I was breathing okay so I stayed home. I will admit I have zero pain tolerance. I’m a baby. Just couldn’t sleep. Was coughing/hacking a lot. Just when your body is all achey and your chest is so tight and hurts and your back feels like bricks are constantly punching you it’s hard to sleep. Day 3: Saturday morning I woke up and got about 5-6 hours of sleep which I was excited about!! I wanted to go back to sleep but I know per my PCP I HAVE to drink 8 ounces of fluid every hour and I’m failing at this. And the er dr said it’s extremely important to stay hydrated so I was not allowing myself to go back to sleep til I got fluids in me. I called my parents to check in and knew mom would help hold me accountable to get liquids, food in me so I could take meds. You’re the best mommy! But oh my. I thought Friday morning was bad. Saturday morning I had everything I did the day before except wheezing! Yay! Well, until I stood up and walk a few steps. Wheezing, heavy breathing and hard to catch my breath. Also...Sooo dizzy. Almost fell over a few times. I have vertigo a lot with my migraines so I’m a pro balancer. Hehehe. And my head is just extreme pain today it’s top and middle of skull and been constant with extreme waves of pressure. But what was so different besides the extreme dizziness was the fatigue! You would think I ran a triathlon. I had to take breaks to get places in my house. Usually I’m zip zapping around in seconds with Bella chasing me. Today she was so confused. She also doesn’t leave my side when I’m sick and she’s been distancing herself so that’s been a lil strange. She still comes and checks on me but it’s not my usual kitty. They say to stay away from your pets so maybe she is picking up on something. Poor Bella boo. Okay sorry got side tracked. Literally no drama picking up a 32 ounce bottle of Gatorade was too heavy for me. Are you kidding? A week ago I was carrying a bag of 6 of them in one hand. Nausea comes and goes but I have no appetite. I don’t want to eat or drink, but I know I have too and I’m forcing myself liquids. I took a 3 hour nap this afternoon and I’m keeping myself elevated with multiple pillows to help with the congestion and coughing. The pain in my back and chest hurts, it’s constant pain and tightness and you can’t feel like you ever get a good deep breath. Day 4: Sunday I got a little bit more sleep (7 hours) and woke up feeling a little better. Not as fatigued. Headache but not migraine. Overnight was rough!!!! Saturday into Sunday I was in a lot of pain and couldn’t get a good breath. I found a video online of an ICU nurse that went viral about the cupping/patting technique. Someone is supposed to cup their hands and pat on your back, it breaks up the mucus. With covid-19 the mucus sticks to your lungs and you can’t breathe etc. my anxiety was like oh no this is why I can’t breathe well and I didn’t want to go to the er as I know they’ll admit me. Space is limited. I can ride this out. I want that for those that truly need it, that have husband and kids, that have a huge house full of people that they can’t isolate from, a Grandma, idk...I just it may sound silly to you but it’s how I feel. I can’t get over the er dr telling me I had the best vitals in the er when everyday you hear others are dying. So I threw myself up against a wall protecting my head and could feel the mucus come up as I was staring to choke a bit and cough! Woah! It works. It hurt extremely bad but it was working so I continued it. It wore me out so I’d take a break and do it again. It worked because I spit up some mucus. I started to realize what was happening...oh no. I’m really sick. I started getting emotional and text my bestie...golly I am extremely grateful for 3/4 am convos with my bestie who has a newborn because I was in a lot of pain, my breathing was hard, and just starting to realize the severity of what’s happening to me. Finally I drifted off to sleep. Again woke up feeling a bit better. My chest didn’t feel as tight, I felt more with it not so in a dream foggy state, but my left arm was a bit swollen hot to touch and had some red splotches. Hmm. What’s that about? Well, My parents, my living angels, dropped off Gatorade, tea, sugar soup, muffins, etc and it was just so amazing to wake up to those texts and that stuff on my front porch. I can’t emphasize enough, although they don’t tell me I KNOW they are having a hard time...they are so scared and feel absolutely helpless. I feel so bad for doing this to them. I was able to pick up the bag of Gatorade! Remember yesterday I couldn’t even lift 1 Gatorade-woah! This is exciting! I walked to the kitchen without having to take a break. Again exciting. But I was still so dizzy and almost fell. Thankfully the stove and cabinets caught me. I was like a pin ball all day slamming into things left and right and bouncing off them. Good lord. And it’s not like vertigo. It’s like you’re walking fine and then boom you’re in a door. Well how’d that happen. Bella found this amusing. She came out of isolation a bit today and hung out with me which was really nice to get some kitty cuddles. My cheeks still red so I’m pretty sure running a fever and still cold constantly. Throat feels a little better. Oh what’s that I’m hungry?! Yesss! One bite and I’m full. Dang. Still can’t taste or smell. And my nose is super stuffy. I drank hot tea which was amazing on my sore throat! And it helps break the mucus up. I did finally take a shower tonight!!!! I realized in the shower since I was standing I still have a broken toe. My poor body, it doesn’t know what to fix! I got completely fatigued during and after. But the steam and hot water felt so nice. I had to take multiple breaks just to finish and walk to my room like 5 steps away. I was spent!!! Also I started noticing later tonight my right side of my back is also in a lot of pain like my left. Yikes. I’m losing track of time. I thought it was like 2 pm and it was 5:30 pm. I thought it was like 9 and it was nearly midnight. I know I need more sleep. I did a little better today getting liquids down! Nausea care back. Had to call the er for some questions, they referred me to the virtual screening nurses, so I think this is going to be a nightly thing...on Thursday my breath test I got to 10. Tonight I got to 6/7 and that’s being generous it was more like a 5/6 But since I feel somewhat okay the nurse consulted with the dr and said I could be transferred to the on call Drs and pay or to call my dr in the morning and discuss with her my arm, as they noticed what I was seeing (swollen and red splotches) and it’s the opposite arm of iv, and also about my breathing. I decided to consult my dr in the am. As I was trying to sleep I got an intense sharp pain in my back on the left that had me in tears. It went away after about a minute. I hope I can work tomorrow but the dr wrote me off for two weeks. The best way to describe this for me, remember I have multiple things not just covid-19, is having a cold, the tummy flu, pneumonia, and mono all at once.

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musette-thornsong · 5 years

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OJ: God’s Right Here

Aura Zurie had found out years ago during her childhood that she was not all cell but only half. If being treated like crap by the entire city of Frank wasn’t bad enough, the virus, Thrax, whom she once called friend betrayed and stabbed her in the back (in more ways than one). After losing so much and being used by those she trusted, she had become officially devoid of all emotion and decided never to trust or let anyone inside ever again. The return of Thrax may change that when they are paired off to hunt down the resurrected mob boss, Scabies, who has kidnapped Ozzy and Drix and will only release them if they hand over a recently acquired rare artifact. But soon everyone (including Thrax) will realize the huge mistake they have made when messing with the wrong girl.

One-Shot Parody

Warning: Violence, gore, language, psychological humor

Words: 6,216

Aura, Meth, & Opius girls belongs to me

Staphylococcus Aureus borrowed from a real bacterium.

It was a dark time in the City of Frank. The Chief of Frank Police had just recently assigned a case to Osmosis Jones, Drix, and (recently hired) Thrax. The case followed the inconspicuous murder of Leah Estrogen from only a day ago. Apparently, she was killed in her sleep with no visible signs of a struggle and then her corpse was hung upside down from Ozzy’s apartment door with a message from (horrifyingly enough) the late mob boss Scabies. This gave an indication that somehow, he was still alive (even though Thrax had turned him into a pile of goop). The team had split up to find clues and came across one at the memory banks archive in ancient text about a gem that revives the dead. Ozzy and Drix went to go find it only to suddenly get kidnapped by unknown assailants. Thrax was then left a note by Scabies that if he wanted his teammates alive, he would find the item in question and bring it to them. Knowing he had little to no intel on ancient artifacts or spells and apparently had no other options, he sought out some help from his fellow coworkers. They suggested he talk to Aura Zurie since she was one of the few citizens who dabbled in that department given her “recently discovered” heritage. Thrax found this to not only a big help but also a chance to get close to her. Although she grieved for the loss of her foster mother, Leah, certain circumstances would have Thrax find that Aura would be less than willing to help him.

Thrax: (eagerly catches up to Aura as she walked down the street) Hey, baby, wait up!!

Aura: (continues walking on, stubbornly) I have nothing to say to you.

Thrax: (tries to play it cool in attempts to charm her) Aw come on, baby. I thought it would a nice opportunity to reconnect… (whispers in her ear) especially given our “special” history together.

Aura: (stops dead in her tracks before turning around facing him, angrily stating) First of all, as far as I’m concerned, we have no history. Secondly, I know why you came breezing down my path and I’m not pulling the pin on that grenade. I made the mistake of trusting you once all those years ago. And in return, it destroyed what was left of the innocence that was my life. I’ll be damned if I get involved with you and make the same mistake again (turns her back to him and proceeds to continue walking on)

Thrax: (feels guilty, knowing she was right but decides to play on her insecurities as a last resort, sighing) Well, I guess I can’t fault you there. I don’t blame you for not wanting to help. But even if you don’t, just know…it’s not your fault.

Aura: (halts with wide eyes upon hearing those words, flashes back to her mother on her deathbed when she was a child uttering those same words)

-FLASHBACK-

*Lisa: (sick in bed, barely stable) I’m afraid I don’t have the strength to go on any further. I’m sorry, Aura. I’m going to leave you all alone.

*Aura: (tearfully holds her mother’s hand) Please don’t go, Mommy

*Lisa: (weakly smiles while cupping little Aura’s cheek, wiping her tears away) Don’t cry, sweetie. I know it’s hard, but you must be strong and endure. I just wish your father could have been here with us (coughs) but know that he did love you very much. I love you, Aura. If things were different back then, we could have become a happy family. Even though my life was turned upside down, I don’t regret having you for a daughter. Just know, this is not your fault (utters before her hand falls from Aura, dying peacefully)

*Aura: (tears fall as she screams agony)

-END OF FLASHBACK-

Aura: (hears the words “Your fault” torment her mind over and over until her mental barrier suddenly breaks down from the inflicted guilt, shouting painfully while barely keeping her composure) WHAT’S WRONG, THRAX!?

Thrax: (surprised he got through to her and gave her the details [unfortunately more details than necessary for dick-move torment]) Well, I suppose it all started when I was born, my mother…

Aura: (facepalms her eyes before pulling the metaphorical pin off the grenade in her mind, groaning) Uuuuuuuuuugh….

Knowing this would take long, they stopped a nearby pub where Thrax continued the conversation for several hours until finally getting the main point for why he sought her out in the first place. He explained how Jones and Drix had disappeared and somehow Scabies was alive demanding for the artifact they were previously looking for in order to bring Leah back. Aura’s brain was about ready to implode from all the mental torture.

Thrax: (continues) …and then that old fart of a germ left this note stating where he was and that he had Jones and the cold pill. And unless the gem is given to the old codger, they can kiss their asses goodbye. And, well…you know the rest, baby.

Aura: (bangs her head on the table repeatedly from the long conversation until Thrax finishes, vents her frustration) GOD, DO I EVER!!! I CAN NEVER UN-KNOW!!! These nuclei receivers could have been used to formulate the perfect strategy in solving this case! Instead, they’ve memorized the different types and amounts of beatings you used to receive since you were four!!!

Thrax: (makes a callous reference) Yeah, much like you, my mother was one emotionally unstable bitch

Aura: (retorts sarcastically) Yeah, I know. And it’s because of that shit to this day, you are still a continuously blunt, all-around, never-ending ASSHOLE!!! (calms down after getting it all out of her system, sighs) Look, if I tell what you need to know about your stupid rock, will you leave me alone?

Thrax: (corrects her) Gem.

Aura: (annoyed) Honey, no language on Earth has a word for how little I care. A quantum super-computer calculating for a thousand years could not even approach the numbers FUCKS I do not give. The friggin’ heat death of the universe could not-

Thrax: Baby, are you going to tell me or not?

Aura: Eh, sure. Whatever. Allegedly, the once lush garden of Frank that was closed off (due to the strange death tolls) was turned into a restricted grave site called “The Valley of Remembrance”. At its center is a jeweled staff known as the Archangel’s Beacon which can pin-point the exact location of the Revival Gem.

Thrax: (mildly happy to hear this news) Seriously, then let’s go get it right now!

Aura: (halts him) Upbupbup, cool your jets, Hot-Shot. There’s more to it than that. For one thing, the gem can easily work on viruses at any time of death, within 15 years for germs and bacteria, but won’t work for cells 3 days after death. And seeing as how a day and a half has gone by already, not to mention you just spent the last 7 HOURS making me consider the pros and cons of a lobotomy via soup spoon, I’d say you got your work cut out for ya.

Thrax: (shocked by this news, eager to get going with only one day left) Oh boy! Well, let’s get going. We’ve got no time to lose (cups his hands around hers)

Aura: (brow twitches before giving her answer) Yeah, about that…

Aura was suddenly outside the pub walking through the crowd of cells out at night, minding their own business. Thrax trudged alongside her confused by the answer she gave him.

Thrax: (hysterically states his predicament) What do you mean you’re not going?! This is completely different from my life on the run trying set a record and getting into the medical books. I don’t know the unknown territories of this body like you do nor what dangers to expect from any of this. I could die on my own!

Aura: I believe I made myself clear about my number of FUCKS and willingness to give them.

Scabies: (pops out of nowhere looking worse for wear in many ways) Ebola Boy? Oh my god, how are you? I believe the last time we met was….oh yeah! When you sliced me up and painted the steam room floor with my carcass

Thrax: (expresses rather irritably, but restrains himself not wanting lose it and kill the only suspect they had in this case, grunting) Fiiine…

Scabies: (mockingly) And where’s the old crew? Haven’t seen them for quite some time

Thrax: They’re dead. Much like how you’ll be again if you don’t beat it.

Scabies: (feigns caring nature) Aww, ain’t that a pity? You at least make some good trophies out of em’?

Thrax: (disgusted) AW HELL NO!! I may be one sick sadistic motherfucker but I ain’t that sick, old man!

Scabies: Ah, such a waste…

Aura: (callously adds on) He’s right you know. Keeping specific remains of your enemies can make for some pretty-sick trophies.

Thrax: (annoyed) Okay, seriously, Aura!? That’s not funny. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a gem to find, two idiots to save, and a dead broad to revive.

Scabies: (looks to Aura scanning over with familiarity) Oh, Aura is it? You his new girl? Well, ain’t you a saucer of cream! It’s so nice to see that even the legendary Ebola-knockoff found someone on his level.

Thrax: (growls at the remark and how he was looking at Aura)

Aura: (laughs casually before eyes widen, clearly insulted) Ehehehe…What?

Scabies: Oh no, it’s cute. I just love the whole “tough-girl” persona ya got goin’ on here. Very convincing. Well, don’t wanna take up any more your time. Sure you sweet kids got a lot to do. I’m sure you’ll have no problem clearing “The Valley of Remembrance”.

Thrax: (attempts to speak for Aura) Actually, Aura just made it clear that she’s not-

Aura: (slightly deranged) Come on, Thrax. We got two idiots and a broad to save (starts walking past Scabies)

Thrax: (walks beside her rather delighted) So, you’re actually gonna help now? Well alright! Operation: Damage Control is a go (places his arm around her)

Aura: (firmly) Don’t touch me

Thrax: Still not there yet?

Aura: Not even close.

Scabies: (smiles wryly)

Thrax and Aura had stopped at a nearby inn for the night in order to get an early start on their mission for the Revival Gem. However, some would come to find it difficult to sleep that night. By morning, they had left the inn and made their way to the Valley of Remembrance where Thrax burned off seal to the gate to save time. Aura lead the way through the silent yet beautiful gardens and enchanted glades. It was all lovely but had an eeriness to it considering there was not one living thing around thus hinting to the term “silent as the grave”.

Aura: (calmly yet alert) Keep your eyes and ears open for anything. There’s no telling what might be lurking around.

Thrax: (smugly) Please. There ain’t nothin’ Big Daddy Thrax can’t handle.

Aura: (rolls her eyes, grunts) Uuugh

Thrax walked on casually next to Aura. He figured this would be a good opportunity to try to get close to her. But given the atmosphere, he wasn’t entirely sure how to break the ice nor certain if she even wanted to talk. Aura was unsure of a couple things too but figured she’d ask just to be sure.

Aura: (chuckles awkwardly) Hey, uh, random question. Uh, you didn’t hear anything…weird last night…Did you?

Thrax: (ponders back to last night) Uuuuuh….

-FLASHBACK-

*Aura: (cries loudly through the wall) Momma Lisa!!! (cries more) Oh god, why couldn’t I save you?! Why?! Momma! MOMMA!!! (cries even more)

*Thrax: (hears her sorrowful wails in confusion unable to sleep)

-END OF FLASHBACK-

Thrax: (slightly goes bright crimson, goes into immediate denial not wanting to say the wrong thing) Uh, no. Definitly not. I’m like a super heavy sleeper, so… (walks on)

Aura: (laughs nervously) Good, good (clears throat) Yeah, sleep is…sleep is good (continues walking)

Thrax: (comes to her, curiously) Sooooooo…Who’s Momma Lisa?

Aura: (snaps) I KNEW IT!!!

At the same time of her outburst, random vines sudden bursts out from bushes and quickly wrapped around Thrax’s ankles, lifting him straight off the ground. The vines revealed to belong to a giant Audrey II-like plant monster that became attracted to closest heat source. It opened its trap preparing to devour Thrax.

Aura: (slightly giggles at Thrax’s awkward predicament)

Thrax: (screams at the sudden lift coming face-to-face with the monster, embarrassment sets in as this was happening in front of Aura of all people) AAAAAAAAAAHH!!! Baby don’t stare at me like this!!

Aura: (yells in response) First off, I’m not your baby so quit calling me that! Secondly, I think you have more pressing concerns!!

Thrax: (slashes around frantically) Well, WHAT DO I DO?!

Aura: Just stay calm. You already have everything you need to beat it.

Thrax: (responds sarcastically) Oh, and what’s that? The power to believe in myself?

Aura: (irritated that Thrax was deliberately trying pluck a nerve) Noooooo, your claw, smartass!! Stab it!!

Thrax: Oh…right (slices off the vines from his ankles before diving at the plant beast, burying his claw straight through and causing it to explode before landing safely on the ground)

Aura: (sighs, locking arms Thrax against her better judgement) Yeah, maybe you should stick closer to me. Those things are attracted to heat and will not think twice about snuffing it out. And seeing as how you’re walking blazing inferno, you’re aggroing everything in this place.

Thrax: (blushes a bit then puts back on the “tough guy” façade before pulling away from her with a smirk) First off, if it’s one thing I know how to turn up and down, baby, it’s heat. Secondly, there’s need no need to worry your pretty, little head. Big Daddy Thrax can take care of himself (walks ahead before suddenly stepping on a random vine which woke up several more plant monsters, screaming) AAAAAAAAAAHH!!! BAAABYYYYYYY!!!!!

Aura: (raises a brow, unimpressed before sighing) This is gonna be my whole day, isn’t it?

After saving Thrax’s hide many a time from becoming every plant’s main course, they had finally reached the center of the valley. There atop an ancient pedestal stood the bejeweled Archangel’s Beacon staff in all its shiny, dusty, cobweb-covered glory.

Thrax: (grabs the staff) Hey, look. There it is!

Aura: Alright, now all we need is the dust!

Thrax: (excited before suddenly catching on to her sudden remark) Yeah- wait, what do you mean?

Aura: Well, I mean, we’re going need the Spark Powder to activate the staff. And we can only purchase said powder from the only drug dealer in this part of Frank who deals in the mystical department (for a certain price). Then once activated, the staff will guide us to the stronghold containing the gem where we’ll navigate ourselves through a series of traps within the catacombs (where most people would never think to look first), leading us to said gem and hopefully the quickest path to the throne/ritual room.

Thrax: (felt like his head was about to explode from the news) That’s INSANE! Just how paranoid were these people?! And since when did this magic stuff get so complicated?!

Aura: You don’t know much about Viral Ancient History or Magic, do you?

They continued their mission in hunting down the only drug dealer, Methadoneus Papaver, who contained the mystical Spark Powder. Once found at a nearby Opium Den, they could see the place was full of ill-repute as there were several Opius female germs publicly seducing several male cells on either ends of the establishment. When they all caught sight of Thrax, they brushed pass the others to gather around him since they never had a virus visit before (let alone a tall, strong, and handsome one). Though Thrax was flattered, he was more concerned with the mission at hand. Seeing as how it would take longer pushing through to get to Meth, Aura decided to take the high road and push Thrax into the crowd of horny germs who wasted no time in smothering him. Thrax was completely helpless in this situation. While he was known for being quite the “Ladies Man” & “Lady Killer”, he never had to deal with so many girls at once.

Aura: Hey look, girls! A present! (pushes Thrax into the Sea of Opius girls)

Thrax: Whoa!! (sees predicament he was suddenly in as the girls wasted no time going down on him, screaming out) NOOOOOO!!! They’re soooo hornyyyyyy!!!!

Aura: (caddy) But I thought there wasn’t anything Big Daddy Thrax couldn’t handle.

Thrax: (glares at her menacingly) Oh, you are SO gonna pay for that later!!

Aura: (chuckles sarcastically) Relax, this won’t take long. If anything, I’ll probably be down by the time you finish (heads upstairs the main den)

Once she found Meth, she got straight to the point about the Spark Powder. He attempted to hustle from her a ridiculous price as that was one of his rarest products that tended to go out quick. He even caused greater insult by trying to get Aura to “entice” the deal further. Meth asked her how much she thought the powder was worth believing she couldn’t do much to threaten him since she was a cop or the fact that she was just a dumb pheromone capable of only screwing her way to the top. But that was a mistake he would soon come to regret. The room suddenly went dark as Aura wasted no time in suddenly grabbing him by the throat, brandishing her claws near his chest, bearing fangs, and her crimson red eyes flashing gold as a warning. Getting the picture, Meth gave her a 75% discount on the powder in exchange for not killing him. When the lights came back on in the room, Aura warned him not to push his luck from now on before heading back down only to find that all the girls completely whored out and Thrax looking an absolute mess, barely keeping his composure and covered in kissy marks.

Aura: (looks over in shock and disbelief) DAAAMN!!! When I said I’d be down by the time you were finished, I was kidding!! But…DAMN!! (sees all the girls with blissful satisfied looks on their faces) Who would have thought you had that kind of stamina. Remind me never to question your libido again.

Thrax: (pants in moderate exhaustion) I never thought…in a million years…that I’d have to screw my way…out of a jam…like that. You got what we need?

Aura: (holds up the bag with the powder) Right here.

Thrax: Good (weakly grabs her by the collar, pulling her close to him) So don’t you EVER…do that…AGAIN!!

Aura: (pushes him off before dusting the staff with the powder) Oh, chill. I thought you would appreciate a group of women going ga-ga over you. (snarky) At least they’re the only ones dumb and horny enough to anyway. Now let’s get going, nearly half the day is gone and we’re running out of time.

Thrax: (grunts, thinking in frustration) *Why do I bother with this girl*

The staff glowed and blinked leading them to the gem’s location. When they were nearing the end of their journey, they came to the stronghold known as Mrsa Castle where they found a secret door leading to the catacombs. Just far up ahead was the Revival Gem on a pedestal. They made their way up to the end when suddenly trap after trap went off as they narrowly escape each one (especially Thrax as he was already worn out the orgy earlier). By the time they had barely made it out of the traps alive, they grabbed the gem and luckily found an elevator that lead them straight to the center of the throne room.

Aura: Man, I thought we were done after that 7th trap with the spiked wrecking balls, but then BAM!! There’s number #8 with the projectile acid worms!

Thrax: (less than enthusiastic) I just…I just want to go home.

Aura: (stops Thrax in his tracks) Wait. Hold on, Thrax. Do mine eyes deceive me?! Tis the fable Blob Throne of Staphylococcus Aureus! A being of microscopic knowledge and devourer of souls! Quickly, good sir! We must spirit away before- Oh my god! Will you just come out already?!

Scabies: (comes out from behind the throne and sat down in all his zombified glory) Well, for a pheromone you’ve got some rather keen instincts for you to have known I was here.

Aura: (casually) Scabies?! Oh my god, how are yo- Oh god, wow, that’s enough of that. (disgusted) Jesus, how do you put up that act all day?

Scabies: Ah, so you saw through me, did ya? You’re quite the clever pisha to haves figured I was once leader of the Sweat Gang

Aura: (laughs) The Sweat Gang? Wow, I thought you might be someone more dangerous, like Thrax over here or even Ebola! Never even heard of you.

Thrax: (looks to her, mildly blushing at the partial compliment)

Scabies: (confidently) Laugh all you like. We’re still one of the most feared gangs in the restricted zones of Frank.

Aura: (snarky) Ooh, impressive. You can frighten cells that think Pollen Pods are terrifying.

Thrax: (points out) Actually, some cells do find them rather terrifying considering Frank’s allergic to them. I mean, when you think about it, have you seen their eyes? They have no souls.

Scabies: Ah, so quick with the snark. Of course, that’s really all ya’ have goin’ on, isn’t it? A witty retort to distract everyone from what you really are. A sad, lonely little girl with no one who loves her. Someone so dead inside, she’d use a lethal virus as bait just to lure me out

Thrax: (defensively) Ok, seriously? My girl may have done some terrible things lately, but I know for a fact that she would never do something that horrible!

Aura: (bluntly) Nah, he’s right. I totally did that.

Thrax: (shocked) What?! How could you do that?!

Aura: Not so much fun when the shoe is on the other foot, is it? Keep in mind that you used and deceived me to meet your ends, remember? I just simply gave you a small taste of your own medicine.

Thrax: (dumbfounded by this newfound sinister change to her personality, though remained silent knowing she was right and should have seen this coming)

Aura: Yeah, that’s what I thought.

Scabies: And to top it all off, you play the “tough girl”. This invincible force you could never hope to be out there in the real world. Getting promoted to the FPD as a top-rated cop was probably the only best thing to ever happen to you. But there’s one thing your position will never let you hide. The one thing that’s haunted you your whole life, that you can never escape…

Aura: (narrows her eyes in annoyance)

Scabies: (smiles smugly) You are the bastard child of former cop-turned-all-around-whore. And trust me, I should know. She was one of my top earners

Aura: (laughs) What?! No, I’m not bastard child of a-…my mother wasn’t a-… (slips into psychotic laughter, finally snapping from the repressed memories of her dear mother) That’s crazy. That’s CRAZY!! HAHAHAHA!!!

Thrax: (looks at her worriedly) Uuuuh, baby, you feelin’ a’ight?

Scabies: Well, looks like my work here is done. I do so enjoy our chats, but I really have a ritual to get going. We’ll be taking the Revival Gem now, if you don’t mind.

Aura: (deranged) Really? Little old you is going to take from us? That’d be a neat TRICK!!

Scabies: Indeed. But a magician is nothing without his lovely assistants (snaps his fingers, giving a signal)

Suddenly, the old crew of the Sweat Gang suddenly came out of their hiding places looking as bad as Scabies. Like Scabies, they were all zombies out for revenge and ready to strike up some mayhem the second they were back to normal. The largest of the crew soon dragged two familiar faces tied up securely

Ozzy: (expresses joyfully upon seeing them) THRAX!! BABY GIRL!!! Boy, aren’t you two a sight for soar eyes!! It’s the funniest thing really. We found out the gem was here as well and came to retrieve it. And we would have called but (chuckles) these guys nabbed us out the blue and we’ve been trapped here ever since. (put on his usual facade) But of course not before Germinator Daddy opened a can of WHUP-ASS in honor of your moth-

Drix: (interrupts) Uh, Ozzy? I’d hate to interrupt such a “tearful” reunion, but do you think it could wait until after we’re rescued?

Thrax: How the hell are these clowns alive anyway?

Drix: (explains) It would appear when you killed Scabies and what was left him disappeared into the pipes, somehow the pipes were connected to the ones here at Mrsa Castle. The power of gem manifested once it sensed a dead soul, bringing Scabies back from the dead…um, partially. He then used a spell stolen from the archives to bring back the rest of them to seek out revenge. He used all of us to get to the gem so he could fully return all of them and himself to their original states before his 15 years comes to an end tonight!! (points out one last thing) Oh, and right now we’re probably about to die. Did I miss anything?

Ozzy: Uuuuhh, nope. That’s seems about right

All Germs: (start to move in on Thrax & Aura for the kill, snickering sinisterly)

Thrax: (worried, steps in front of Aura defensively) Oh crap, there’s too many of them, baby. I may be tired but that’s never stopped me before. I’ll back you up.

Aura: (places her hand on his shoulder, calmly but still in deranged state) Aww, that’s adorable.

Thrax: (raises a brow, confused) What is?

Aura: You think they’re a threat because we’re out numbered and they’re twice as strong due to them being undead. Well, you just sit tight. Show’s about to start. Careful, though. The first 3 rows are a ♫splash zone♫ (walks ahead of Thrax)

Thrax: (goes wide-eyed, worried) Baby, what do you mean by that?

Aura: (laughs psychotically)

Aura had officially snapped. As if things weren’t bad enough when she was reminded of her guilt. Or when she unknowingly aided Thrax in his plans to take down Frank when she was a child. Or when others saw her as a monster or a dumb pheromone whose only purpose in life is to screw or to kill just because she was born half-cell and half-virus. She could deal with all the taunts and slanders. But the moment someone insults her mother, the one organism in all of Frank that brought her into this world and held dear to her heart, that’s the moment when all she can see is red and loses her mind completely. All of that became clear when the entire throne room suddenly got darker and started to freak everyone out, especially Thrax. He had never seen her like this or any cell or virus with this kind of aura. He actually found it to be more terrifying than he was. It was at that moment Thrax realized all that she had to endure from the time of her birth, through her mother’s death, and living as an orphan on the street for years treated poorly by everyone in Frank. But the worst of it was when he walked into her life and used her in his scheme even though she trusted him, believing she had finally found a friend. His betrayal became the official turning point for what she was now. And the germs who were set to kill, started to get nervous and began to think otherwise about the whole situation.

Joe Cramp: (concerned) Um, boss? A-A thought occurs. This cop thought she was going up against someone as dangerous as Ebola, yet she brought herself and our…former boss. We sure we wanna mess with this chick?

Scabies: (callously confident) Please! The girl is all talk! And now that I’ve broken her, she’s not even THAT, anymore! She’s nothing but a gibbering mess, grasping at straws!

Aura: (still emanating the dark presence) Ooh, another one of your famous theories! Tell ya what. I’ll give you the first shot (eye twitches) See how that goes!

Joe Cramp: (thinks momentarily before concluding) Boss, I think this might be a trap.

Scabies: (abruptly) Enough! You’re all undead with twice your normal strength and there’s SEVEN of you! I think you’ve got this!

Aura: (smiles wryly, baring her fangs and eyes glowing yellow like a cat)

Scabies: Now, kill her!!

In a flash, they all came bearing down on her with no restraint. Each one either slashed at her with claws, beat her with a club, bit at her, stabbed her with knives, etc. And the whole time, she stood there not screaming in pain or giving in an inch. This made the others worry and wonder why she was refusing to do anything.

Drix: (shocked at the damage being done) Oh no, I knew it! Scabies must’ve really gotten into her head! She’s not even fighting back.

Ozzy: (worried for his adoptive daughter urges Thrax to help) Thrax, don’t just stand there! Help her!!

Thrax: (snaps out of it, adjusting himself while getting ready to jump in, thinking) *Oh, baby. Now I understand completely. It’s my fault this all happened to you. And right now, you need me more than ever* Well, I guess it’s up to me to save her or else-

Aura: (smiles as one of her wounds suddenly healed instantly along with the rest of her injuries)

Thrax: (stops in his tracks, stunned at the sight) Wait what?

All Germs: (pants, completely exhausted and shocked that she didn’t scream or go down after all they did to her)

Aura: Man, you guys are out of shape! Really oughta do some cardio.

Scabies: (frustrated) What are you Sissy Marys’ doing?! Quit screwing around and finish her!

Bruiser: (pants) I don’t understand, Boss! We threw everything we had at her! How is she still standing?!

Aura: How? Well, it’s quite simple, really. You see, ASSHOLE, you may think you’ve got all figured out. True, I was born a pheromone cell but that’s only half of it. There’s just one thing you didn’t account for.

Scabies: (getting angry)

Aura: As it turns out, the 2nd half of my makeup…is Chiroptera DNA!

Ozzy: (confused) Chiro-what now?

Drix: (explains) If I may, Chiroptera is the scientific classification order of bats more particularly the common vampire bat. They have many known diseases with one being the only rarest exception among them. And that rare disease is known as the legendary Draculine virus.

All: (gasps)

Ozzy: (curious) And you know this how?

Drix: (admitted truthfully) I studied her during that time she was in the hospital fighting Thrax’s venom. I managed to dig up some research on the subject as well as her background. I felt it was necessary for future medical reasons should you need it.

Aura: (sarcastically explains, chuckling) It’s funny how life works really. A respected female cop doing her job has an unexpected run-in with a virus that later puts her in a position she has absolutely no control over. Said events soon results into a half-breed child who eventually loses everything. But after years of loneliness and hell, you hoped you finally found someone whom you could trust that you felt connected to. And that goes out the window when he stabs you in the back in more ways than one and leaves you drifting in the void between this world and the next. Suddenly, the part of you that you didn’t know existed ends up being the thing that saves you from a near-death experience. Get to that point in your life where that side brings out more in you emotionally and physically, turning you a lethal force to be reckon with, and you’re basically untouchable. My wounds heal faster than you can make them. We could do this all day and you dumbasses would not be any closer to killing me. (laughs) Not that it wouldn’t be fun. But I’ve got good news! You see, there’s no need to wonder where your God is. Cause she’s right here… (whispers menacingly) and she’s fresh out of mercy.

All Germs: (whimpers and cries in terror)

Scabies: (scared, finally fed up) W-Well, way to prove my point, bitch! Lording your origins over them like some kind of god! Your strength is nothing but an illusion to cover-

Aura: (blazes swiftly like a gust of wind)

And what happened next shocked everyone. When everyone looked up, Aura was no longer where she was. They turned see that she was where Scabies was, who looked pale with fear as blood came out the corner of his mouth. It was at the moment they all could see something big and slimy pulsating. Aura had drove her claws deep into Scabies, creating a huge hole in his chest and ripped his barely beating heart through his back. Never had anyone there seen someone do anything so ruthless without hesitation or mercy. Scabies was shocked by this revelation as well as he weakly turned to meet her deadly gaze.

Ozzy & Drix: (shocked and horrified at the scene)

All Germs: (jaws dropped in shocked)

Thrax: (shocked and amazed, yet horrified)

Scabies: (whimpers, choking on his blood) Uuuugh….

Aura: (whispers before crushing his heart with her bare claws) I’m gettin’ real tired of your first-year-psych-student bullshit.

Scabies: (weakly) Enjoy this…while you can. It’s the deepest…a man will never be…in…you (goes up in blue flames disappearing from existence)

All Germs: (go up blue flames as well at the death of their master)

Thrax: (stares in confusion of everything that just transpired)

Aura: Yeah, well, you’re dead, soooooooooooo…. (frustrated, unable give a retort) DAMMIT!!!

An hour had passed since the incident. Aura sat on the throne staring off into space with a soulless gaze. Ozzy and Drix were still in shock that she had that kind of force in her and were worried for the well being of her current mental state. Thrax was even more worried for Aura as he was still processing the fact that this was all his fault for turning her into this, feeling untold guilt that she had become as ruthless and virulent as he was. It was all completely opposite of the sweet soul she used to be. Unable to bear the silence anymore, one of them had to speak up.

Thrax: (came up and sat beside her, concerned) Soooooo…how are you doing, baby?

Aura: (glumly) Fine. Why?

Drix: (points out) Well, you did just kill someone.

Ozzy: Which in turn killed a bunch more.

Thrax: As someone who’s killed more than his fair share of organisms, I usually feel a great sense of satisfaction from it. Which makes me kinda wonder, doesn’t that make you feel…something?

Aura: (nonchalantly) Oh, feelings? Yeah, thanks to you, I no longer have those. Went cold turkey

Ozzy: (shocked) What?! Baby girl, you can’t just do that! What’s the point in living if you can’t feel happiness, wonder, love…?

Aura: (lights up a little) Or the sweet taste of revenge! You’re right, Ozzy! What’s the point in living if I can’t enjoy such simple things?

Thrax: (sighs before lightly smiling) Close enough.

Aura: (feels a slightly new sense of being) You guys are good friends. We should go on more missions like this.

Drix: Um, I don’t think so

Ozzy: Don’t take this the wrong way, sweetie. We’re grateful for your help, but you’re-…

Thrax: Like the worst person we’ve ever had to work with.

Aura: (silent for a moment before responding) Is that your big plan? Huh? Make me feel feelings so you can cut me down a peg? That cuts deep, guys. But I respect that.

Ozzy: Yeah, that’s kinda the problem. But I suppose it’ll all be worth it to have Leah back.

Aura: That’s the spirit. Let’s get started.

They set up the ritual circle where Drix took Leah’s corpse out of his compartment (to keep her body from decaying) and laid her in the center. Using her blood, Aura brought the Revival Gem to Leah’s body. As the drop of blood glowed from the gem’s power, it fell onto the body making it glow brightly. It got brighter and brighter until suddenly…

Gem Voice: *Lifeline time limit has expired*

Leah: (goes up in blue flames, disappearing)

Ozzy: (stares in shock at what just happened)

Aura: I’m…sorry for your loss

Ozzy: (bloodcurdlingly screams) AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!!

The aftermath of that incident was no better. After everything they went through, it was all a waste. And now Ozzy was running around the streets of Frank going on rampage, having officially lost the love of his life.

Thrax, Aura, & Drix: (suffers Ozzy’s wrath with some rather critical injuries, shocked)

Thrax: He took that well.

#osmosis jones thrax #Osmosis Jones #american dad #sao abridged #sao abridged ep 4 #scabies #ozzy and drix

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nyctolovian · 6 years

Text

Trust

Merry christmas, Sincere! So hi im ur secret santa hahahaha! I know it’s kind of weird to have a sickfic for christmas but I rly tried to write something christmassy and ummmm yeh as u can see it didnt work out hahaha! Hope u still enjoy it with its fluff!!

Summary: Trucy is running a fever while Mr Wright's at a trial so Apollo takes on the nursing duty. But health issues aren't the only issues Apollo will help with today.

AO3 Link

“Trucy has a fever?”

Upon hearing that, Apollo and Athena turned away from the client to look at their boss concernedly.

“Mm. ... Yes. … Oh... But I’m in the middle of a trial...” Mr Wright glanced at the clock. They only had five more minutes before the trial began again.

Eyes wide with worry, the client stared at him, wordlessly begging him not to leave. At that, Mr Wright flashed her a smile that assured her that he will be staying.

“I’ll ask someone to head over to fetch Trucy on my behalf,” Mr Wright spoke into his phone. “I’ll text you that person’s number. ... Yes. Thanks.” He pressed the “End Call” button before pulling his two protégés aside. “Well, you guys heard it. Trucy’s school called and she’s running a fever. And I can’t exactly leave halfway. Could one of you help me out?” he said with a sheepish grin. “I’d usually ask Edgeworth but he’s in Germany now...”

“I’ll go,” Apollo said, raising a hand. “Our client seems to need some help managing her fear, doesn’t she?”

“She does,” Athena affirmed. “It’s making her mess up a lot of her statements.”

“Then, it’s decided. I’ll go.”

Mr Wright wrote down something on a notepad and tore the page out. “This is the school’s address.” He handed Apollo the note and patted his shoulder. “Thanks for your help, Apollo. I’m counting on you to take care of her till the trial is over. I trust you’ll be fine though.”

The bailiff called the defense back to the courtroom and the defendant jolted in fear. Calmly, Mr Wright turned to her and comforted her. Athena held the defendant’s hand and squeezed it comfortingly.

Apollo glanced back as the three of them headed back into the courtroom before heading out. He took a look at the note Mr Wright had passed to him. The school wasn’t far from here. He quickly reached there by bus and got a visitor’s pass from the security guard before heading to the reception area.

“Hi, I’m here to pick up Trucy. Trucy Wright?” he told the receptionist.

“Ah, she is in the sickbay. I’ll wake her up,” the receptionist said.

Apollo pursed his lips. Was Trucy asleep? This fever seemed to be doing a number on the usually energetic magician. And he was right. As Trucy walked out of the sickbay, she looked incredibly exhausted, slinging her bag over her shoulder.

“Oh! Polly?” Her hand flew to her mouth. “You’re here?”

“Uh, yeah. Your dad’s in the middle of the trial so I’m here instead,” Apollo explained. He glanced over her quickly before gently tugging at her bag. “I’ll carry that for you. You look terrible.” For a moment, Trucy stubbornly tightened her grip around the strap. But Apollo was just as stubborn and she was feeling tired after all so she let go and sat at one of the benches.

The receptionist took out a form and told Apollo to fill it up so Trucy could sign out. He nodded and quickly filled it up. When he gave it back to the receptionist, her eyes widened in surprise. “You’re her coworker?”

“Um... Yes?” Well, technically I’m her employee but that’d be harder to explain. Apollo thought, cringing internally.

The receptionist laughed good-naturedly. “You two look so alike. I almost thought you were her brother! So you are a magician as well?”

“No, I’m not her brother,” he said, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. “And I’m not a magician either. I’m a defense attorney. See?” He lifted his lapel.

“Polly, are you flashing your badge again?” Trucy asked from behind him.

“... No.”

The receptionist giggled as she filed the form away. “You two really get along well. Thank you for picking her up.” She craned her neck to look at the sick girl. “Rest well, Trucy!”

Seeing how tired Trucy was, Apollo got an Uber to take them back to the Wright Anything Agency.

As soon as they got in, Trucy started to nod off. However, when her head began to droop, she would suddenly straighten up again and the cycle would repeat.

“Just close your eyes,” Apollo said, leaning towards her. “You’re tired, right?”

“Ey, lass, y’ sick?” the Uber driver boomed, peered behind.

“Please look in front while driving,” Apollo reminded.

“Yep,” Trucy replied. “Fever.”

The driver nodded and turned his body slightly to look at her. “Thought so. Take forty winks, lil’ lady.” (“Oh god! Please look where you’re driving! Car! Car!”) Yer brother there can wake y’ up when we reach.”

“He’s not my brother,” Trucy said with a slight pout. “He’s just Polly.”

“Ey! Sorry ‘bout that! Y’ two got the same face!” the driver guffawed so loudly the car seemed to be shaking. Apollo clung to the roof handle for his dear life.

“Why do so many people say that?” Trucy mused aloud. “My friends in school say that too. Remember that time when I forgot my umbrella, Polly?”

Gulping, Apollo nodded. He won’t be remembering that any longer if the driver kept turning around to talk to them. “Alright, nice. Can you please nap now? No talking while napping,” Apollo said, patting her head. At least then Trucy won’t goad the driver into talking again.

“Good night,” Trucy muttered absently as she curled up in her bed.

“Good night,” Apollo replied even though he knew that was a weird thing to say at 10am. As he sat at the living room, he texted Mr Wright.

You: Trucy’s home now. She’s running a fever of 38.5 degrees. [10:34 AM]

Tentatively, he peered into Trucy’s room. Apollo felt pretty useless as he watched her tossing and turning uncomfortably. Never had he been needed to take care of someone else with a fever. And usually when he was sick, he’d just sleep it off.

Surely, he shouldn’t just be telling Trucy to sleep and leaving it at that. He frowned in thought for a while and paced around. Then, he picked up his phone again.

You: im taking care of trucy cos shes got a fever. 38.5 but wth do ppl usually do for fevers??? [10:39 AM]

The reply was almost instantaneous.

spaceman: Oof [10:39 AM]

spaceman: Give her water [10:40 AM]

spaceman: And paracetamol or watever [10:40 AM]

spaceman: Put a wet towel on her forehead [10:40 AM]

You: im not sure where mr wright keeps his medication stuff though. i asked trucy and she doesnt know either [10:40 AM]

You: shld i ask mr wright??? [10:40 AM]

spaceman: Yeah. Do that. [10:41 AM]

You: not sure when he can reply. hes at a trial now [10:41 AM]

spaceman: Ohhhhhhh [10:41 AM]

spaceman: No wonder ure the one taking care of her [10:41 AM]

spaceman: Good luck bro!! Dont die!!! [10:41 AM]

You: ok tks i wont [10:41 AM]

spaceman: Btw for the towel, get a basin so u dun need to run abt [10:41 AM]

You: k [10:42 AM]

After sending a message asking Mr Wright where he kept his medications, Apollo placed a cup and a jar of water on Trucy’s bedside table. With a bit of nudging, she finally sat upright to down an entire glass of water before sinking back into her bed with a flop. Then, he followed what Clay said and got a basin of water and a towel. Apollo soaked the towel and wrung it before placing it on Trucy’s forehead.

Apollo noticed the minute relaxation of her facial muscles so he supposed he was doing this right at least. Thank god for Clay. What would he ever do without him?

Feeling his phone vibrate in his pocket, Apollo picked it up again.

spaceman: AND SOUP OR PORRIDGE [10:53 AM]

spaceman: FOR LUNCH [10:53 AM]

spaceman: Im kinda assuming mr wright wont be back before lunch cos ure usually MIA for almost an entire day when uve got a trial [10:54 AM]

You: good idea [10:54 AM]

spaceman: Careful not to drop the entire bottle of pepper in the pot again. Itll kill the poor girl. Her dads a lawyer, apollo. Dont risk it ;-;[10:54 AM]

You: THAT WAS ONE TIME [10:55 AM]

spaceman: Tell that to my poor tongue :( [10:55 AM]

You: I GET IT STOP [10:55 AM]

spaceman: RIP Clay Terran’s tongue. 2004-2024 Death by pepper poisoning. [10:55 AM]

You: ITS TIME TO S T O P [10:55 AM]

spaceman: Dont. Stop me nOOOOWWW [10:55 AM]

You: why r u quoting queen in 2027 [10:56 AM]

spaceman: Why r YOU quoting filthy frank in 2027 [10:56 AM]

You: why r we even friends [10:56 AM]

spaceman: What do u mean?? This is precisely why we r friends [10:56 AM]

spaceman: IVE BEEN CAUGHT MY PHONE NOOOOOOOO [10:56 AM]

You: wow. a murder right before my eyes. ngl i feel nothing for ur death. [10:57 AM]

spaceman: Aura speaking, apollo, stop texting clay while hes at work. [10:57 AM]

You: Noted. Sorry. [10:57 AM]

“Trucy, please get back in bed,” Apollo said. “You’re still sick.”

“My fever’s gone, isn’t it?” Trucy said, puffing her cheek, as she continued to carry things out of the fridge to be defrosted.

“Well, yeah,” Apollo said. “But you’re not completely well yet. The sick should stay in bed to rest.”

“Do you even follow your own advice?” Trucy said, arms akimbo.

“Yes?” Apollo tried, rubbing his bracelet.

The piercing look Trucy gave him made him shrink back. Lying was futile. She could perceive lies too after all. Was this what it felt like at the other end of courtroom scrutiny?

“Okay, fine. I don’t,” he admitted. “But you’re a kid! A growing kid! I’ll do the cooking, alright?”

“The guest shouldn’t be doing the cooking.”

“I’m not guest, Trucy! I’m supposed to take care of you!”

“Look, Dad’s coming back for lunch. I can’t leave him hungry,” she said.

Apollo drooped with a sigh. “I’m sure what he means is that he’s coming back to settle lunch for you. Look, I could even ask him right now!

“I highly doubt he can cook,” Trucy stated, pouting.

“Mr Wright’s an adult. I’m sure he can settle his own meals. But if you really think that, I can just do the cooking. Your germs are going to get in the food anyway.”

“I can wear a mask,” Trucy rebutted.

Apollo waved his arms wildly before dropping them in exhaustion. “Rest. Please? Trucy?”

Trucy frowned at her feet. “It’s just a meal. I can do a meal.”

“Exactly! So can your dad. It’s just a meal. He can handle that by himself,” he said.

“I’m cooking,” Trucy insisted, stomping her foot.

“Why are you so stubborn about this?” Apollo sighed. Then, he noticed her fists shaking with emotion. “Trucy…” He watched her closely. “Is this really just about cooking?”

Her sharp blue eyes shot up to glare at Apollo. “Polly! You’re perceiving me?!”

Rubbing the bridge of his nose, Apollo muttered, “Sorry. Habit. But answer me truthfully, Trucy.” He looked at her again, his brown orbs warm and gentle now. “This isn’t just about cooking lunch, is this?”

“I’m supposed to be the one who cooks lunch every day,” Trucy replied.

“So you see it as a- um… a duty?”

A silent nod.

“So skipping out makes you feel bad?” Apollo asked as he pulled a chair out and sat on it. “Like you’re not doing your part?”

Another nod. This time, she tentatively added, “It’s like a contract.”

He hummed in understanding. Then, he dragged another chair out and patted the seat.

Gingerly, Trucy sat down beside him. Her hands gripped the sides of the chair, tense.

“I kind of get it,” Apollo began. “I mean, being a foster kid, most of my relationships with my guardians feel like contracts too. ‘If you don’t do this and that, you won’t get, um, whatever.’ So I kind of get it. That kind of spread to my other relationships to be honest. So I always get this guilt when I’m not — I don’t know — performing?”

Trucy huffed in amusement.

“Have I ever told you about my best friend?”

“Clay?”

“Yeah, him. I used to always set rules for myself on what I should do for and with Clay,” Apollo continued. “I’d, um, not go for things, like parties or school projects, if he wasn’t going with me because I felt bad enjoying myself without him and stuff like that. When he found out, he got so mad at me and said it was dumb.”

Trucy snickered. “That is dumb.”

“Yeah, because, you know, he really hated that I wasn’t doing things for myself because I had set my own rules for our friendship. Well, the point I’m making is this,” Apollo said. “People who care about you wouldn’t want your relationship with them to restrict or hurt you, you know? People who really care would want the best for you, I think.” He looked up at Trucy. “And I think your father cares about you. A lot.”

Trucy was silent. She wasn’t meeting his eyes.

“I-I hope the things I said made sense,” Apollo stuttered. “I was just saying what I thought. I’m really not that good with words- URNGH!”

Trucy had slammed her face into his chest. Stiffly, Apollo’s arms hovered at his shoulder level as the teenager tightened her embrace. A fond smile spread across his face. Slowly, he lowered his arms over her shoulders and pat between her shoulder blades.

“Thanks, Polly,” Trucy said as she pulled back. She shot him a cheeky grin. “You make a pretty decent older brother.”

Apollo rolled his eyes. “Quit teasing me. Now, go sleep. I have a meal to make.”

#ace attorney #ace attorney secret santa #apollo justice #trucy wright #clay terran #sickfic #shenanigans #light angst #fluff #mostly fluff #hurt/comfort #humour #siblings #my writing

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jeonsorgasm-blog · 6 years

Text

mommy | jjk

requests : open!

pairing : reader x jeongguk

genre : smut | fluff

warning : submissive jjk, thigh riding, minimal cum eating, crotch stepping, degrading (like one line), pegging?/ anal, orgasm denial & mommy kink

word count : 2k

summary: jeongguk couldn’t wait until you got home for work so he went to go see you at work.

jeongguk whimpered lightly as he pressed your contact another time, checking the previous conversation you two just had ten minutes ago.

he eventually called again and sighed softly as your phone went straight to voicemail but he nonetheless left his third one of the hour.

“n-noona, it’s getting late and i’m lonely will you please come home for me?” jeongguk whispered into the line.

your coworkers got tired often of the continuous phone calls at work and so did you but they understood how things got sometimes.

you had just stepped back into your office after a long meeting before being notified by your secretary that jeongguk has been calling nonstop and that made you croon a little, your little boy missed you.

as you made your way to the phone a timid knock was heard on your office door before it slowly creaked open and slammed shut after.

“mommy!”

it was your boy jeongguk.

he engulfed you from your backside and pouted into your neck.

“ggukie, this is your second time this week coming here and i know it’s not an emergency.” you scolded him but held him close anyways as you turned around to face him.

jeongguk finally pulled away to look you up and down.

your heels had made you a slight inch taller than him as he usually was taller than you and you were dressed in your casual crisp black pants suit.

“mommy can i please please stay” his lip quivered and he made his eyes glassy for a moment.

“alright” you finally gave in.

“but.”

“butt.” jeongguk repeated and laughed amusingly.

you rolled your eyes at him and went to go sit at your desk,”but you mustn’t distract me from my work like yesterday okay?”

“okay mommy! i promise.” jeongguk nodded but a glint of mischief already lit his eyes.

two hours into typing away at your macbook jeongguk crawled your desk and sat in the confined space both hands placed on your knees.

you could see him from your peripheral vision and you continued to focus on getting your papers done for your boss.

jeongguk spread ur legs slowly and trailed a hand up your inner thigh though the more closer he got to your unaffected core your legs closed shut tightly around his hand.

“ggukie, get off of the floor. too many germs” you mumbled and scooted your rolling chair backwards for the younger to have an appropriate amount of space to get up.

jeongguk took this as an opportunity to annoy you even more and continue to stay in the confined space.

“fine, stay comfortable gguk.” you gestured slyly while continuing to type away at your laptop.

your foot inched towards his crotch within every step you took to scoot back into the comfort of your desk.

jeongguk gasped lightly as he took notice of how dangerously close your pumps were to his clothed bulge.

he scooted a little closer to you to feel your heel press against his now painfully hard erection.

with no hesitation you pressed the tip of your heel into the front of his jeans, gently at first but the more you felt him squirm from under you the more applied pressure.

“m-mommy!”

his eyes widened in alert and his hand flew up to your calf to cease the amount of attention just the tip of your heel was doing.

“sit still, gguk. you’re gonna sit and be good.”

jeongguk let out a broken moan as your foot rocked back and forth against his bulge.

“you’re not gonna cum yet are you baby? gonna cream your pants like the filthy little whore you are?”

you scooted back in your chair a little and removed your foot as you slid back, watching gguk pant and whine.

“mommy, let me ride your thigh please.” he rubbed his hand over his clothed cock and moaned feverishly.

“get your pants off for me.” you patted your thigh and swirled the tip of your finger around the top of your knee.

jeongguk got out of his tight jeans and sat on your lap wasting no time sliding his bothered cock across your soft pant suit material.

“feel good baby? doesn’t it?” you cooed and stuffed a finger into his mouth which he gradually sucked on while you turned your attention back to the papers you almost needed to finish for your boss.

gguk nodded timidly and breathed heavily through his nose in response.

slowly with the hand that was occupied in his mouth you slipped the finger out and grabbed a hold of his ass before stretching back his cheek and plunging one in.

jeongguk’s eyes shut tightly and he panted now. “fuck me mommy, fuck me” he mumbled and switched his back and forth pattern to a rouch bouncing one.

you noticed how his hole swallowed your finger immediately, almost inviting.

“such a good boy, let’s see how you can take two fingers.”

jeongguk’s eyes widened and he was about to mouth something out but you stuck in another fingering silencing him.

a sharp knock was heard at the door then, throwing gguk into shock and making you smirk the biggest you’ve ever have done before.

you scooted into your desk hiding everything from waist down as the person then stepped in the room; your flirty co-worker jimin.

you absolutely hated that man, he had NO shame whatsoever when it came to hitting on gguk and you at the same time.

jimin’s presence didn’t disturb you at all today, in fact it only pleased you even more.

jeongguk hid his flushed face in his arms as he put his head down on the hard wood desk.

“jimin-ah. is there something you need today? and before you speak here i’ll answer every question for you. not your business, not available, and not interested. anything else?”

your fingers still worked inside jeongguk until you pushed deeper and brushed over his prostate making him shiver and clench his fists.

jimin opened his mouth for a second before closing it and nodding his head unsatisfied with your quick responses.

with your other hand you grabbed a hold of jeongguk’s thigh, brushing over his neglected tip and spread his legs, fucking into him with now three fingers.

jimin turned to the door to leave before hearing jeongguk whimper, a deadset wolf like smile etched its way onto his face and both of their eyes locked and you knew both of you were fucked.

gguk blinked up at jimin as he drooled out onto the desk.

“what’s wrong with gguk, ms. y/l/n?” he pressed still keeping his eyes on the younger boy.

“mmh, just sick that’s all. needs a nap, right babyboy?” you seethed quite noticeably.

“y-yes” jeongguk heaved and tore his stare away from jimin’s.

jimin furrowed his brows before walking out of the office, full of suspicion.

you tucked your thumb into him as well as adjusting your pointing finger and rocked half of your hand into his hole.

“mommy! i-i need to cum please let me cum mommy please!” gguk cried out and threw his head back, tongue out and panting like some tired dog.

“you can hold it.”

gguk sobbed at that and his balls clenched while his tip leaked profusely.

“mommy i-i..” he trailed off and threw his head back onto your shoulder.

jeongguk was shaking as his thigh was twitching and his hole tightened around your fingers. slowly you removed your hand and wiped it down onto his quivering leg.

you waited until he came down from his intense orgasm to shove his face down onto your desk which he completely creamed.

“you’re getting punished when we get home, jeonggukie.” you mumbled in his ear while he whimpered and cotinued to dart his tongue against the now clean dark wood.

gguk quickly turned his head to give you a sweet kiss, just a reminder that he loved you so so much.

you hadn’t broke a sweat, meanwhile jungkook’s hair was matted and his back was drenched.

jeongguk panted tiredly and slid off of your lap, lazily throwing his clothes on.

“i’m going to get some coffee, noona. i’ll be back” he mumbled drowsily and pulled the door handle, swinging the door open gently.

you nodded in acknowledgment as you begin to type as if nothing ever happened.

as soon as the door opened jimin fell to the floor, wide eyed making you and gguk screech in surprise.

“o-oops.” jimin looked up with a hand stuffed down his pants.

“PERVERT!” you both screamed at him.

#bangtan #bangtanboys #bts reactions #bts preferences #bts jungguk #bts smut #bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts fanfic #bts jungkook #jungkook preferences #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook smut #jungkook imagines #jungkook fanfic #jungkook

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paintedmegolden22 · 6 years

Text

174/365 Reasons I Love Taylor Swift

365 Days of appreciation for my girl since ‘06 @taylorswift @taylornation

#174

Well, I tried my best. I took all of the steps, and I gave it all I had....but.....I got sick. I know I know, it’s “that season” where everybody is getting sick, but I pride myself on having a strong immune system, and I had been taking preventative medicine/treatments to keep myself from catching everything that was going around. It worked for awhile. All of my coworkers were sick, and of course working at an elementary school I’m surrounded by germs all day. Like, a kindergartener actually sneezed directly into my mouth...like....mid conversation she just let one out and my mouth was wide open. I STILL didn’t get sick. But, alas all good things come to an end. I have the sniffles, headache, just generally feel crappy. I wanted to take today’s post to shout out how much of a ROCKSTAR Taylor is during tour. She’s traveling all over the world, meeting tons of people, and performing a really taxing show night after night. The girl gets sick! She powers through it though. I don’t even know if she cancelled any shows during reptour!?!? She is a true superhero.

#taylorswift #taylor swift #taylornation #reptour #taylurking #365 days of swift

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forestwater87 · 7 years

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Gwenvid Week - Day 4

Hanahaki Disease (with some tweaking of the rules, shh)

Hanahaki Disease is an illness born from one-sided love, where the patient throws up and coughs of flower petals when they suffer from one-sided love. The infection can be removed through surgery, but the feelings disappear along with the petals.

“David?!”

He would’ve answered his co-counselor, but his mouth was . . . occupied.

“Christ, David, why didn’t you tell me?” Gwen’s hands landed on his shoulders, trying to pull him back, but he wrapped his arms around the bathroom wastebasket he was hunched over and shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut against another attack of coughing.

Hanahaki Disease was poetic, in theory. The curse of the lovestruck. In movies and art it was almost elegant, brilliant red rose petals falling like rain with each cough. A good Hanahaki scene was enough to get David sobbing like a baby because it was tragic, so very sad, but so so beautiful.

Of course, art didn’t usually take into account the fact that lungs were wet, and so were throats and mouths and rose petals that clumped together in leaden dense globs that sat heavy in his chest and stuck along the sides of his throat and mouth. By the time it looked like the movies, a beautiful torrent of red that fell like a dry waterfall with each breath, dry because there were so many that the ones that made it out were protected from the dampness by layers upon layers of other petals, it was often too late.

So really, David should feel quite lucky that this disease was so disgusting, this hacking and retching, a tickle in the throat and spasm in his lungs and waves of pain that scraped his throat raw and left him feeling lightheaded and nauseous. Because if it had progressed to the stage of being beautiful, he might already be suffocating.

He believed in looking on the bright side.

Once the coughing fit subsided he rested his head on the rim of the wire garbage can, looking down at the damp scarlet that half-filled it. “I’m . . . I’m okay,” he said, wincing as the words felt like fingernails along his damaged windpipe. “I just need a minute.”

Her grip on his shoulders had loosened, but never let go. “How long?”

“Three days ago.” While the campers had found out pretty quickly about the end of his relationship with Bonquisha, he’d done his best to keep it a secret from Gwen. She didn’t need something else to worry about, after all, and he’d been certain that everything would be fine.

When that evening he’d cleared his throat and a limp rose petal had fallen into his palm, he’d been a little less certain. And by the time he couldn’t hide it anymore that certainty had shrunk to a faint, quavering hope.

“Jesus.” She squeezed his shoulder gently, and for a second he thought she was going to comfort him. “Why the fuck haven’t you gone to the doctor yet?”

David shrugged. The truth was, he didn’t want to have to admit what’d happened. His plan was more or less to pretend he’d never dated BonBon and ride this whole thing out.

He coughed again, a bone-jarring wheeze that left him shaking and breathless.

Gwen sighed. “Hold on, I’ll be right back.” A few seconds later she knelt down by his side again, taking his hand in hers and tapping an orange pill bottle against his palm. “If you won’t get a prescription, just take mine. It should last you a couple days at least.”

He turned the bottle over, reading the label with blurry eyes. “Suppressors?” he asked, glancing up at her. “Why do you have these?”

“Got dumped right before the summer. Didn’t last long, so I never brought it up.”

“Well, gosh, thank you. But I don’t know if I should —”

“Either take them or I’m just gonna throw ’em out, David.”

He carefully unscrewed the bottle, shaking a cream-colored pill out into his hand. He did hate waste, after all. “They really work?”

“Have you noticed me coughing up a flower garden all summer? Trust me, they work.” She stood and pulled out her Camp Campbell Official Campteen, the water bottles issued to the counselors every summer. Filling it in the bathroom sink, she handed it to him without looking down. “Might take a couple hours to kick in, so why don’t you take the rest of the day off? Today’s activities are pretty low-maintenance anyway.”

David really wanted to object, but he was struck by another coughing fit, one that made his vision swim and darken at the edges. Finally he just nodded, and she helped him off the floor of the bathroom and into bed, emptying the garbage and setting a new one within easy reach. “Thank you, Gwen,” he mumbled into his blankets, feeling ashamed and stupid. What kind of pathetic loser not only got dumped, but got himself sick over it?

Bonquisha was right. He really wasn’t much of a man at all.

Gwen waved dismissively, pulling the curtains shut. “Happens to everyone,” she said. “Don’t worry about it.” She paused at the doorway, looking uncertain; he was about to ask what was wrong when she darted back over to his bedside, squeezing his shoulder awkwardly. “Take care of yourself, CBFL.”

“CBFLs,” he repeated, smiling.

As usual, Gwen was right. By dinnertime he was feeling almost back to normal, and by the next day he was more than ready to take on the world. “Wowzers, those are really something!” he said, bouncing alongside Gwen as they made their way to the mess hall for breakfast.

She nodded, never one for conversation before she’d had her coffee. Raising her fist to her mouth, she coughed and grimaced, wiping her hand on her shorts. “Fucking allergies,” she muttered.

“Are you gonna be okay?”

“They’re allergies, David, not the flu,” she snapped. “I’ll be fine.”

He ignored her bad attitude; that was just Morning Gwen. She’d feel much better with a little caffeine and sugar in her system!

By mid afternoon, Gwen had hunted down a box of tissues and kept backing off to cough into them, causing some of the campers to call her Mr. Poe (a reference he didn't recognize) and Typhoid Mary (a reference he did). He kept them off her back as much as possible, and she was as capable a counselor as usual, but as the day wound to an end he'd started to worry.

“Listen, if it's gonna keep you up all night I'll sleep on the couch in the mess hall, it's not that big a deal,” she grumbled, stabbing at one of the meatballs provided for dinner; her fork bounced off, splattering them both with sauce.

“That's not what I meant!” He didn't really sleep, anyway. “I just thought -- if you're not taking care of yourself --”

“I'm fine. I'd be even more fine if you'd let me be allergic and miserable in peace.”

David couldn't help feeling like one of the campers when Gwen got mad at him. Dropping his gaze to his own plate, he murmured, “No problem,” and let it drop.

And he did. For a few more hours.

“Gwen! Since we're here, why don't you go to the pharmacy and pick up some allergy medicine? I don't need any help at the General Store.”

She glared at him. “This is why you made me come into town with you, isn't it?” He just smiled blithely at her and she sighed. “Yeah, fine. Need more tissues anyway. Don't buy anything stupid this time, okay? We don't need more knives.”

He found her a half hour later leaning against the wall of The Only Bar, looking down at her phone with a tissue pressed over her mouth. “Knives?” she asked, narrowing her eyes; when he shook his head she held out a small paper bag with another orange bottle inside. “Looks like my doctor sent refills for the whole summer. You still —” The tissue returned to her mouth, catching her cough, “— need them?”

“I really think I’m feeling much be . . .” He trailed off, his face suddenly cold as the blood fled it.

David hadn’t seen Bonquisha since Max and his friends’ disastrous attempt to get them back together. He hadn’t seen her new boyfriend, either — although he had sent Jacob a bouquet of apology flowers while he was in the hospital and received a lovely thank-you card in return (which he’d promptly torn up and fed to the platypus).

And he certainly hadn’t seen them together, his arm draped casually over her shoulders and their fingers interlinked, her head resting against his chest in a way that seemed highly impractical for walking down the street but there they were and there he was and for the first time in days he felt the back of his throat itch, the insistent tickle that infected the roof of his mouth and inner ears and made him want to claw his neck open to get at the irritation and make it stop stop stop —

He nodded, clearing his throat and trying to swallow away the feeling. With a quick glance over her shoulder at the couple, Gwen dropped the bag into his hand and led him back to the Campmobile.

If clearing his throat turned into sniffling, and if in a quiet, slightly shaky voice he asked her to drive home, and if he spent the ride back to camp looking out the window and occasionally brushing at his cheeks with the back of one hand, neither of them brought it up.

He was glad to have the refills, though. Just in case.

The next few days weren’t easy, but Gwen was there and she made it better. She kept the counselors’ mini-fridge stocked with his favorite Ben & Jerry’s and listened to his same sad complaints over and over again. She was even less hug-averse than usual, more than once letting him curl up against her side and rest his head on her shoulder when he found himself missing touch more than usual. He didn’t even care about her coughing, even though it was starting to sound a whole lot worse than allergies ever should, because even if he got sick too, it was worth seeing his normally caustic coworker soften her apathy into something a lot more like protectiveness, even affection.

Quality time with his CBFL was worth a couple nasty germs.

And he did his best about letting her treat her own allergies, even though the over-the-counter medication she’d bought in town didn’t seem to be doing much good. If anything she was getting worse, more than once having to disappear in the middle of an activity and returning a just bit more drawn and tired. Still, he wanted her to know that he trusted her judgement!

But he finally had to put his foot down when Gwen stumbled into the mess hall at the tail end of breakfast, catching her shoulder on the doorframe and hardly seeming to notice. She was paler than he’d ever seen her, with circles under her eyes that looked like they’d been drawn there with a soot-covered finger and her hairline dotted with moisture that didn’t match the comparatively cool morning. She brushed a strand of limp hair out of her eyes with fingers that were almost as lifeless, her eyes glancing off the campers without seeming to fully focus on any of them.

“Gwen!” David pushed past Nerris and Harrison — who were arguing over something magic, he was sure — and took her by the shoulders. “Golly, you look like a mess!”

“Thanks,” she muttered, but it lacked her usual snarl.

Normally he’d chalk that up to her being sleepy, but he’d heard her coughing all night. “Listen, I think you might have the flu. Why don’t you get some rest and —”

“I’m fine, David.” She shook him off and shuffled past him toward the rasping coffeemaker. “I just need some coffee, calm down.”

For a moment he was lost, watching her fumble with the paper cups. He wasn’t used to telling her what to do, but . . . Drawing himself up to full height (he had an extra three inches on her, and he planned on using them), he caught up with her, gingerly tugging the empty cup out of her hand.

“Now, Gwen. I hate to pull rank on you —” Her lip curled and his courage flagged, “— but — but I’m technically the senior counselor here, so . . .” David lifted his chin and squared his jaw, hoping he looked more intimidating than he felt. “You’re sick, and you need to go back to bed. I’m . . . ordering you. To. Do that now.”

“You’re ordering me?” she repeated, disbelieving.

“I can handle the camp just fine for one day, and you need to rest, so —”

“Fuck you.” She tried to push past him again, back toward the coffee, but he grabbed her upper arm and tugged her back, a little alarmed at how easily he could move her. “I —”

She cut off with a hacking wheeze, nearly doubling over; he was positive that if he hadn’t been holding her she would’ve fallen. It sounded violent, like if she pulled her hand away from her mouth her palm would be filled with bloody chunks of lung.

For a second he thought he was going to faint, because he caught sight of a splash of red between her fingers, just a momentary glimpse, and it felt like his horrible vision had come true. “Is that — is that blood?”

She was still struggling to catch her breath, but she tilted her head to glare up at him. “I’m coughing my asshole out,” she finally said, dropping her hand from her face and curling it into a fist against her chest. (He could still see tiny flashes of wet crimson between her fingers, not a lot but enough to terrify him.) “Sorry my throat’s a little irritated.”

“Gwen, maybe I should take you to the doctor —”

“No.” She shook her head, taking a couple unsteady steps back. “Fine, I’ll . . . I’ll fucking lay down, okay? If you’re gonna make such a big deal out of it.”

Well, it was a start. “I’ll check in on you at lunchtime.”

“Whatever.” She turned and made a beeline for the door. In the quiet stillness that remained David was suddenly reminded that he had a building full of campers to counsel.

He turned to the sea of upturned faces — some wary, some curious, most just bored — and clapped his hands. “All right, kiddos! It’s just us today, so let’s put on our best faces and campe diem!”

The day was a bit hectic without his cocounselor there to help, and the sun had disappeared by the time he remembered his promise to check in on Gwen. As soon as the campers were all put to bed, he practically raced back to the cabin, berating himself for being so thoughtless. When he opened the door to their shared bedroom, he thought for a second that she must’ve been writing, or . . . or something. Because the moonlight-pale floor was drenched in black, ink that oozed from her bed and dripped down her blankets in fat drops.

“G- wen?” He flicked the light switch on and clamped a hand over his mouth, forcing his jaw shut around a high-pitched scream that would’ve woken the entire camp.

At first he was sure Gwen’s side of the room was covered in blood, but he realized after a moment that the red, which had looked black in the darkness, wasn’t fluid at all but wet rose petals, more than he’d ever coughed up. More than he thought could even fit in her body.

She’d lifted herself onto her elbows when the light turned on. Just long enough for him to see her red-rimmed eyes and the petals that stuck to her damp face like open wounds. “Da — !” The word was drowned in another barking cough, liquid and thick with the flowers that plopped onto her pillow.

It wasn’t beautiful.

David leapt forward, accidentally grabbing some of her blanket as he scooped her into his arms and not caring, trailing the fabric behind him and leaving the cabin door open on the way to the Campmobile, because there wasn’t time, not when every breath rattled and whistled like that, when she was too weak to struggle against him, when each step dislodged more petals from her clothes and hair and blanket, leaving behind a trail like blood that led to the passenger side of the car.

Maybe he should call an ambulance, he thought for a second, but Gwen coughed again and the thought was shoved out of his mind. They didn’t have time to wait for an ambulance.

The drive was fast and dark and winding and terrifying and silent, even though he was brimming with questions. He just couldn’t imagine how Gwen, the most levelheaded, responsible person he’d ever met, could have messed up like this. Had she forgotten to refill her prescription? Had it just snuck up on her somehow?

No, no, that didn’t make sense. She’d gotten it refilled at the pharmacy, when they went into t —

Town.

Oh.

The car swerved dangerously as the wheel jerked in his hands, the result of a full-body tremor that sent ice down his spine and curled like a snake around his lungs.

Had . . . she wouldn’t have given all her pills to him, would she? Not if she’d needed them herself? Then again, he hadn’t heard her mention a breakup all summer, and she was usually pretty open about those things, if only so he wouldn’t eat her “heartbreak ice cream.” Maybe . . . had she met someone in town, then?

“Gwen,” he said, even though she wasn’t listening, even though he thought she was asleep — hoped she was asleep. Even though the words felt wrong in his mouth, because he wasn’t supposed to be the voice of reason and she wasn’t supposed to be reckless. “Gwen, what were you thinking?”

The only response was a quiet cough and a pained inhale, and even though he considered himself a very safe driver with a healthy respect for traffic laws, he pressed down on the gas pedal until it nearly touched the floor.

“Sleepy Peak General Hospital, what is the nature of your emerge — holy fuck.”

David ignored the receptionist’s question as well as her language. Cradling Gwen against his chest as well as he could while reaching for the “new patient” clipboard, he said, “Yes! Excuse me, my friend — w-well, my coworker, but also my friend, she’s . . . she keeps coughing and I don’t think she can breathe very well and I’m not sure what to do, she has medication but she hasn’t been taking it and —”

The receptionist had seemed to mostly be ignoring his rambling, fumbling through her desk until she found a call button. Regaining her composure — though still unable to take her eyes off of Gwen — she said, “Sir, your friend’s condition requires immediate attention. If you could just step to the left there will be an attendant with you in just a —”

The end of her sentence was lost in another coughing fit, so intense that Gwen nearly toppled out of his arms with the force of it. He gingerly set her on the ground, figuring it’d probably feel better to have something steady to brace against, and she immediately rolled onto her hands and knees, her forehead nearly touching the ground as she struggled to breathe through the petals gushing from her lips.

The medics appeared before the attack had died down, and her agonized hacking didn’t interfere with their work as they bundled her onto a stretcher, talking rapidly in a code he didn’t recognize — or maybe it was English. He wasn’t really in a state to tell.

Gwen rolled onto her side despite the medics’ attempts to keep her on her back. Her head hung over the side of the stretcher, her hair falling in her face and her limbs shaking. The rose petals were so thick and so fast that they came out of her mouth dry, a ruby flood that cascaded against the white tile like a waterfall. It was beautiful.

It looks like just the movies.

The doors slammed shut behind the attendants, leaving him alone in the waiting room with clammy skin and a puddle of rose petals at his feet.

They finally called him in at three a.m., told him she was out of surgery and awake, that she couldn’t talk much but had requested to see him if he was still there. (And of course he was; he’d fallen asleep in a plastic yellow bucket seat after filling out the hospital paperwork and ensuring the Quartermaster was prepared to watch over the campers for the night. He wondered if Gwen had really thought he’d leave her there.)

David was used to seeing Gwen with her feet planted in packed dirt, staring down a group of uncooperative campers. Or slouched back against a wall with a magazine between her fingers. Not curled up in a sterile white bed, hooked up to a beeping machine with needles in her arms and bandages around her neck. She looked small, and tired, and sad, but she lifted her chin and gave him a wan smile as he entered and sat down on the side of her bed.

“Good thing you never sleep, huh?” she joked weakly, her voice hoarse and breathy like her throat was lined with cheese graters. When he didn’t say anything — didn’t know what to say, or how to say it, despite having had hours to prepare — she sighed. “I’m sorry, David.”

“I know.” Her hand was sitting in her lap, a thin clear needle sticking into it; he rested his fingers on top of hers, avoiding the taped-in syringe. “What happened?” he asked, and after a moment of silence added, “You owe me this, Gwen.”

“Yeah, I do. But . . .” She groaned, shaking her head. “I mean, does it matter? I’m okay, Campbell will pay for the surgery and I’ve got medication —”

His fingers tightened in hers, and he pulled his hand away before he hurt her. “Yes, you have medication! Now. Why didn’t you before?”

“Because you weren’t gonna get any for yourself, and if one of us has to be the camp counselor it has to be you! I can’t keep that place running like you can.”

That . . . was touching. But it wasn’t good enough. “That was really dangerous,” he said, forcing himself to keep his voice steady and firm. Discipline wasn’t his strong suit with the campers, let alone Gwen.

She rolled her eyes. “Whatever, it’s not that big a deal.”

“We’re in the hospital! It’s pretty much the biggest deal possible!” He lowered his voice, suddenly remembering where they were and what time it was. “You could’ve died, Gwen. Then where would I be?”

He’d expected that to make her laugh, maybe remind him how hopeless he was without her to keep his head on straight. He hadn’t anticipated the flush that came over her too-pale skin, or the way she gnawed on her lip nervously. “I . . .”

“Good morning, Gwen!” A nurse bustled in, her voice somehow both a whisper and a song. “How are we feeling? You gave us quite a scare!” She didn’t seem to need a reply, pulling out a small paper cup of water and another with a pill. “Make sure your girlfriend takes her suppressants,” she said with a wink to David. “Don’t want her back in here again, do we?”

“O-oh! I’m not her . . . boyfriend . . .” But the nurse had already handed him the cups and rushed out of the room, leaving them and a thick, spiraling tense silence behind.

Gwen laughed, then winced and touched the bandages on her throat. “That was awkward.”

He chuckled, holding out the cups. “Pills first or water?”

She took the medicine under his watchful gaze; he even made her open to mouth and stick out her tongue to prove she’d really swallowed it. “Thank you,” she said she he sat back, satisfied. She was looking down at her hands, and he realized she hadn’t met his eyes since he walked in.

She must feel really guilty, he thought with a pang of sympathy. Then: Good. She deserves it.

“I just . . . wanted you to be happy.” The words were barely a breath, low and stilted like she always was when admitting something she didn’t want to. The voice when she’d told him she hadn’t gotten the job he’d driven her to the interview for, or when she’d mentioned that her parents kept calling her writing a “cute hobby.”

David felt like he’d been punched in the stomach.

Gwen hadn’t been taking those pills for someone who’d broken her heart before that summer.

The person who didn’t love her back wasn’t hundreds of miles away.

He was sitting on the side of her bed. His thigh was touching hers.

“I . . .” He couldn’t finish that sentence. Because what was there to say?

“I’m going to bed,” she muttered, pulling back as much as she could and turning onto her side. Her voice was thick with exhaustion and tears — exhaustion and tears, he reminded himself, not rose petals. Not this time. “They said I can leave the day after tomorrow, after some observations. You . . . you can send QM to pick me up. Or I’ll take a cab or something, it’s fine.”

He should stay. He should at least promise to visit her tomorrow, or to pick her up the day after. He should tell her she was beautiful, and amazing, and that he was so sorry. That it would pass. That he hoped she wouldn’t have to leave camp. That he’d never in a million years imagined that — that of all the people —

“Of course, Gwen,” he said instead, standing and backing up to the doorless entrance of the hotel room. “Get some rest.”

The waiting room was empty when he came downstairs, the sleepy town apparently having exhausted its emergencies for the night. Even the receptionist was gone, a “Be back in 5 minutes” sign propped up on her desk.

David collapsed into one of the chairs, resting his elbows on his knees and putting his head in his hands. For a few minutes he just focused on breathing, on staring at the tiles between his feet and trying not to imagine the awfully-beautiful, just-like-the-movies splash of blood-red petals that’d painted them just a few hours before. Trying not to think of what it must’ve felt like for Gwen, to have so much clogging your throat and lining your lungs that you couldn’t breathe or speak with the weight of it. Trying not to think of what it must feel like for Gwen right now, lying upstairs in a sterile empty room.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

“Fuck.”

#this bad boy is almost 11 pages #and 3.5 hours late #whatever i'm really proud of it #campcamp #cc david #cc gwen #gwenvid #gwenvid week #and yeah she still has her feelings #because that's more fun for me

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xtruss · 4 years

Text

— By Occupy Democrats | May 5, 2020

"I am a Covid ICU nurse in New York City, and yesterday, like many other days lately, I couldn’t fix my patient. Sure, that happens all the time in the ICU. It definitely wasn’t the first time. It certainly won’t be the last. What makes this patient noteworthy? A few things, actually. He was infected with Covid 19, and he lost his battle with Covid 19. He was only 23 years old.

I was destroyed by his clinical course in a way that has only happened a few times in my nursing career. It wasn’t his presentation. I’ve seen that before. It wasn’t his complications. I’ve seen that too.

It was the grief. It was his parents. The grief I witnessed yesterday, was grief that I haven’t allowed myself to recognize since this runaway train got rolling here in early March. I could sense it. It was lingering in the periphery of my mind, but yesterday something in me gave way, and that grief rushed in.

I think I was struck by a lot of emotions and realities yesterday. Emotions that have been brewing for weeks, and realities that I have been stifling because I had to in order to do my job effectively. My therapist tells me weekly via facetime that it’s impossible to process trauma when the trauma is still occurring. It just keeps building.

I get home from work, take my trusty companion Apollo immediately out to pee, he’s been home for 14 hours at a time. I have to keep my dog walker safe. No one can come into my apartment.

I’ve already been very sick from my work exposure, and I’m heavily exposed every day that I work since I returned after being 72 hours afebrile, the new standard for healthcare workers. That was after a week of running a fever of 104 even with Tylenol around the clock, but thankfully without respiratory symptoms. I was lucky.

Like every other healthcare worker on the planet right now, I strip inside the door, throw all the scrubs in the wash, bleach wipe all of my every day carry supplies, shoes and work bag stay at the bottom of the stairs.

You see, there’s a descending level of Covid contamination as you ascend the stairs just inside my apartment door. Work bag and shoes stay at the bottom. Dog walking shoes next step up, then dog leash, then running shoes.

I dodge my excited and doofy German shepherd, who is bringing me every toy he has to play with, and I go and scald myself for 20 minutes in a hot shower. Washing off the germs, metaphorically washing off the weight of the day.

We play fetch after the shower. Once he’s tired, I lay on the floor with him, holding him tight, until I’m ready to get up and eat, but sometimes I just go straight to bed.

Quite honestly, I’m so tired of the death. With three days off from what has been two months of literal hell on earth as a Covid ICU nurse in NYC, I’m having an evening glass of wine, and munching on the twizzlers my dear aunt sent me from Upstate NY, while my dog is bouncing off the walls because I still don’t have the energy to run every day with him.

Is it the residual effects of the virus? Is it just general exhaustion from working three days in a row? Regardless, the thoughts are finally bleeding out of my mind and into a medium that I’m not sure could possibly convey the reality of this experience.

There’s been a significant change in how we approach the critically ill covid-infected patients on a number of different levels over the last two months. We’re learning about the virus. We’re following trends and patterns. We are researching as we are treating.

The reality is, the people who get sick later in this pandemic will have a better chance for survival. Yet, every day working feels like Groundhog Day. All of the patients have developed the same issues. This 23-year-old kid walked around for a week silently hypoxic and silently dying. By the time he got to us, it was already far too late.

First pneumonia, then Acute Respiratory Distress Syndrome (ARDS), essentially lung failure. Then kidney failure from global hypoxia and the medications we were giving in the beginning, desperately trying to find something that works. Then learning that it doesn’t work, it’s doing more harm than good in the critical care Covid population.

Dialysis for the kidneys. They are so sick that your normal three-times weekly dialysis schedule is too harsh on their body. They’re too unstable. So, we, the ICU nurses, run the dialysis slowly and continuously.

They are all obstructing their bowels from the ever-changing array of medications, as we ran out of some medications completely during our surge. We had to substitute alternatives, narcotics, sedatives, and paralytics, medications we’re heavily sedating and treating their pain with, in an effort to help them tolerate barbaric ventilator settings.

Barbaric ventilator settings while lying them on their bellies because their lungs are so damaged that we have to flip them onto their bellies in an effort to perfuse the functioning lung tissue and ventilate the damaged lung tissue. Ventilator pressure settings that are so high that some of their lungs are being blown out completely in an effort to give them enough oxygen, because lung-protective ventilation measures aren’t working for these patients.

Lungs that are perfused with blood that doesn’t even have adequate oxygen carrying capacity because of how this virus attacks.

Blood that clots. And bleeds. And clots. And bleeds. Everything in their bodies is deranged. Treat the clots with continuous anticoagulation. Stop the anticoagulation when they bleed.

GI bleeds, brain bleeds, pulmonary emboli, strokes. The brain bleeds will likely die. The GI bleeds get blood transfusions and interventions.

Restart the anticoagulation when they clot their continuous or intermittent dialysis filters, rendering them unusable, because we’re trying not to let them die slowly from renal failure. We are constantly making impossible treatment decisions in the critical care pandemic population.

A lot of people have asked me what it’s like here. I truly don’t have adequate descriptors in my vocabulary, try as I might, so I’ll defer to the metaphor of fire.

We are attempting to put out one fire, while three more are cropping up. Then we find out a week or two later that we unknowingly threw gasoline on one fire, because there’s still so much we don’t know about this virus.

Then suddenly there’s no water to fight the fire with. We’re running around holding ice cubes in an effort to put out an inferno. Oh yeah, and the entire time you’ve been in this burning building, you barely have what you need to protect yourself.

The protection you’re using, the guidelines governing that protection, evolved with the surge. One-time use N95? That’s the prior standard, and after what we’ve been through, that’s honestly hysterical. As we were surging here, the CDC revised their guidelines, because the PPE shortage was so critical.

Use anything, they said. Use whatever you have for as long as you can, and improvise what you don’t have.

As we’re discussing medication and viral research, starting clinical trials, talking treatment options in morning rounds for your patient with the team of doctors and clinical pharmacists, suddenly, surprise! Your patient developed a mucous plug in his breathing tube.

Yes, that vital, precious tube that’s connected to the ventilator that’s breathing for them. It’s completely plugged. Blocked. No oxygen or carbon dioxide in or out. It’s a critical emergency.

Even with nebulizer treatments, once we finally had the closed-delivery systems we needed to administer these medications and keep ourselves safe, they’re still plugging. We cannot even routinely suction unless we absolutely have to because suctioning steals all of the positive pressure that’s keeping them alive from the ventilator circuit. One routine suction pass down the breathing tube could kill someone, or leave their body and vital organs hypoxic for hours after.

Well, now they’re plugged. We are then faced with a choice. Both choices place the respiratory therapists, nurses, and doctors at extremely high risk for aerosolized exposure.

We could exchange the breathing tube, but that could take too long, the patient may die in the 2-3 minutes we need to assemble the supplies and manpower needed, and it’s one of the highest-risk procedures for our providers that we could possibly carry out.

Or we could use the clamps that have been the best addition to my every day carry nursing arsenal. You yell for help, you’re alone in the room. Your friends and coworkers, respiratory therapists, doctors, are all rushing to get their PPE on and get into the room to help.

You move around the room cluttered with machines and life sustaining therapies to set up what you need to stave off death. You move deliberately, and you move FAST. The patient is decompensating in the now-familiar and coordinated effort to intervene.

Attach the ambu bag to wall oxygen. Turn it all the way up. Where’s the PEEP valve? God, someone go grab me the PEEP valve off the ambu bag in room 11 next door. We ran out of those a month ago, too. It’s all covid anyway, all of it is covid. Risk cross-contamination or risk imminent death for your patient, risk extreme viral load exposure for you and your coworkers, and most certain death for your patient if you intervene without a PEEP valve.

You clamp the breathing tube, tight. The respiratory therapist shuts off the ventilator, because that side of the circuit can aerosolize and spray virus too if you leave it blasting air after you disconnect. Open the circuit. Respiratory therapy attaches the ambu bag. You unclamp. Bag, bag, bag. Clear the plug. The patient’s oxygen saturation is 23% with a PERFECT waveform. Their heart rate is slowing. Their blood pressure is tanking. Max all your drips, then watch and wait while this patient takes 3 hours to recover to a measly oxygen saturation of 82%, the best you’ll get from them all shift. These patients have no pulmonary reserve.

All of our choices to intervene in this situation risk our own health and safety. In the beginning we were more cautious with ourselves. We don’t want to get sick. We don’t want to be a patient in our own ICU. We’ve cared for our own staff in our ICUs. We don’t want to die. Now? I’ve already been sick. I am so, so tired of the constant death that is the ICU, that personally, I will do anything as long as I have my weeks old N95 and face shield on, just to keep someone alive.

I’ve realized that for many of these patients in the ICU, it won’t matter what I do. It won’t matter how hard I work, though I’ll still work like a crazy person all day, aggressively advocate for my patients in the same way.

My coworkers will go without meals, even though they’re being donated and delivered by people who love and support you. Generous people are helping to keep local restaurants afloat. We can always take the meal home for dinner, or I can devour a slice of pizza as I walk out to my truck parked on the pier, a walk I look forward to every day, because it gives me about eight minutes of silence. To process. To reflect.

I’ll chug a Gatorade when I start feeling lightheaded and I’m seeing stars, immediately after I just pushed an amp of bicarb on a patient and I know I have at least five minutes of a stable blood pressure to step out of the unit, take off my mask and actually breathe.

Every dedicated staff member is working tirelessly to help. The now-closed dental clinic staff has been trained to work in the respiratory lab to run our arterial blood gases, so that the absolutely incredible respiratory therapists who we so desperately need can take care of the patients with us.

Nurses in procedural areas that were closed have been repurposed to work as runners. To run for supplies while the primary nurse is in an isolation room trying to stabilize a patient without the supplies they need, runners to run for blood transfusions.

Physical therapists, occupational therapists, speech and language pathologists being repurposed to be part of the proning teams that helps the nurses turn patients onto their backs and bellies amidst a tangled web of critical lines and tubes, where one small error could mean death for the patient, and exposure for all staff.

Anesthesiologists and residents are managing airways and lines when carrying out these massive patient position changes. Surgical residents are all over the hospital just to put in the critical invasive lines we need in all of our patients.

The travel nurses who rushed into this burning building to help us are easing a healthcare system. The first travel nurse I met came all the way from Texas. Others terminated their steady employment to enlist with a travel agency to help us. Every day there are more travelers arriving.

A nurse from LA came to me after she found out I was part of the home staff, in my home unit, where this all first started in my hospital what feels like a lifetime ago, and said, “I came here for you. For all of the nurses. Because I couldn’t imagine working the way you guys were working for how long you were working like that”. During our surge and peak in the ICU, we were 1:3 ratios with three patients who normally would be a 1:1 assignment. And they were all trying to die at the same time. We were having to choose which patients we were rushing to because we couldn’t help them all at the same time.

The overhead pages for emergencies throughout the hospital rang out and echoed endlessly. Every minute, another rapid response call. Another anesthesia page for an intubation. Another cardiopulmonary arrest. A hospital bursting at the seams with death. Refrigerated trailers being filled.

First it was our normal white body bags. Then orange disaster bags. Then blue tarp bags. We ran out of those too. Now, black bags.

The heartbreakingly unique part of this pandemic, is that these patients are so alone. We are here, but they are suffering alone, with no familiar face or voice. They are dying alone, surrounded by strangers crying into their own masks, trying not to let our precious N95 get wet, trying not to touch our faces with contaminated hands.

Their families are home, waiting for the phone call with their daily update. Some of their loved ones are also sick and quarantined at home.

Can you even IMAGINE? Your husband or wife, mother or father. Sibling. Your child. You drop your loved one off at the emergency department entrance, and you never, ever see them alive again.

Families are home, getting phone calls every day that they’re getting worse. Or maybe they’re getting better. Unfortunately, the ICU in what has quickly become the global epicenter for this pandemic is not a happy place. We are mostly purgatory where I work, so this snapshot may be more morbid than most.

These people are saying goodbye to their loved ones, while they’re still walking and talking, and then maybe a week or two later, they’re just gone. It’s like they disappeared into thin air.

That level of grief is absolutely astounding to me, and that’s coming from a person who knows grief. It changes you immeasurably.

But this grief? This pandemic grief? It’s inconceivable. These families will suffer horribly, every day for the rest of their lives. They might not even be able to bury their loved one. God, if they can’t afford a funeral with an economic shut-down, their loved one will be buried in a mass grave on Hart Island with thousands of others like them. What grave will they have to visit on birthdays and holidays?

Yesterday, I was preparing for a bedside endoscopy procedure to secure a catastrophic GI bleed in this 23-year-old patient.

It was a bleed that required a massive transfusion protocol where the blood bank releases coolers of uncrossmatched O negative blood in an emergency, an overhead page that, ironically, I heard as I was getting into the elevator to head to the fourth floor for my shift yesterday morning; a massive transfusion protocol that I found out I would own as a primary nurse, as I desperately squeezed liters of IV fluids into this patient until we got the cooler full of blood products, and then pumped this patient full of units of blood until we could intervene with endoscopy.

Before the procedure, I stopped everything I was doing that wasn’t life-sustaining. I stopped gathering supplies to start and assist with the procedure.

I told the doctors that I would not do a required “time-out” procedure until I got my phone out, and I facetimed this kid’s mom because I didn’t think he would survive the bedside procedure.

She cried. She wailed. She begged her son to open his eyes, to breathe. She begged me to help her. Ayudame. Ayudame. She begged me to help him. She sang to him. She told him he was strong. She told him how much she loved him. I listened to her heart breaking in real time while she talked to her son, while she saw his swollen face, her baby boy, dying before her eyes through a phone.

Later in the day, after the procedure, his mom and dad came to the hospital. He survived the securement of the bleed, but he was still getting worse no matter what we did. He’s going to die. And against policy, we fought to get them up to see their son.

We found them masks and gowns that we’re still rationing in the hospital, and we let his parents see him, hold him. We let them be with their son.

Like every other nurse would do in the ICU here, I bounced around the room, moving mom from one side of the bed to the other and back again, so I could do what I needed to do, setting up my continuous dialysis machine, with the ONE filter that supply sent up for my use to initiate dialysis therapy. This spaceship-like machine, finicky as all hell, and I had one shot to prime this machine successfully to start dialysis therapy to try to slowly correct the metabolic acidosis that was just ONE of the problems that was killing him as his systolic blood pressure lingered in the 70s, despite maxing all of my blood pressure mediations.

Continuous dialysis started. You press start and hold your breath. You’re not removing any fluid, just filtering the blood, but even the tiniest of fluid shifts in this patient could kill him. But you have no choice.

His vital signs started to look concerning. I could feel the dread in the pit of my stomach, this was going south very quickly. Another nurse and the patient’s father had to physically drag this mother out of the room so we could fill the room with the brains and eyes and hands that would keep this boy alive for another hour.

She wailed in the hallway. Nurses in the next unit down the hall heard her cries through two sets of closed fire doors. We worked furiously to stabilize him for the next four hours.

Twenty minutes before the end of my shift last night, I sat with the attending physician and the parents in a quiet and deserted family waiting room outside the unit. I told his mother that no matter what I do, I cannot fix this. I have maximized everything I have, every tool and medicine at my disposal to save her son. I can’t save her son.

The doctor explained that no matter what we do, his body is failing him. No matter what we do, her son will die. They realized that no matter how hard they pray, no matter how much they want to tear down walls, no matter how many times his mother begs and pleads, “take me instead, I would rather die myself than lose my son”, we cannot save him.

We stayed while she screamed. We stayed until she finally let go of her vice grip on my hands, her body trembling uncontrollably, as she dissolved into her grief, in the arms of her husband.

This is ONE patient. One patient, in one ICU, in one hospital, in one city, in one country, on a planet being ravaged by a virus.

This is the tiniest, devastating snapshot of one patient and one family and their unimaginable grief. Yet, the weight is enormous.

The world should feel that weight too. Because this grief, this heartbreak is everywhere in many forms. Every person on this planet is grieving the loss of something.

Whether that’s freedom or autonomy sacrificed for the greater good. Whether that’s a paycheck or a business, or their livelihood, or maybe they’re grieving the loss of a loved one while still fighting to earn a paycheck, or waiting for government financial relief that they don’t know for certain will come. Maybe they’re a high school senior who will never get to have the graduation they dreamed of. Maybe they’re a college senior, who won’t get to have their senior game they so looked forward to. Maybe they’re afraid that the government is encroaching on their constitutional rights. Maybe it’s their first pregnancy, and it’s nothing like they imagined because of the terrifying world surrounding them.

Or maybe they lost a loved one, maybe someone they love is sick, and they can’t go see them, because there are no visitors allowed and they’re an essential worker. Maybe all they can see of someone they love is a random facetime call in the middle of the day from an area code and a number they don’t know.

Everyone is grieving. We’ve heard plenty of the public’s grief.

I don’t blame anyone for how they’re coping with that grief, even if it frustrates the ever-living hell out of me as I drown in death every day at work. It’s all valid. Everyone’s grief is different, but it doesn’t change the discomfort, the despair on various levels. We are at the bottom of Maslow’s hierarchy of needs. Basic survival, physiological and safety needs. I’ve been here before. I know this feeling. How we survive is how we survive.

Now that I’ve had the time to reflect and write, now that I’ve let the walls down in my mind to let the grief flood in, now that I’ve seen this grief for what feels like the thousandth time since the first week of March as a nurse in a Covid ICU in New York City, it’s time you heard our side. This is devastating. This is our reality. This is our grief."

— Jeannine Nicole

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agoodflyting · 7 years

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How customer service jobs fuck with you for life

My semi-annual sinus infection is in full force and this year I’m not even going to fuck around with trying to work while I’m sick. I’m already called out for tomorrow. I’ve got a cat, blankets, hot drink, neti pot, and some movies, and I’m resting until I stop feeling like death.

Every year for the past decade I’ve gotten this sinus infection and every year I try to soldier through it, which usually does nothing but drag it out and make me feel like walking death. It’s one of those things where I get it so routinely that it all seems routine to me, but my sinus infections are pretty severe and I usually get a little bit of a fever, body aches, chills, laryngitis, dizzy spells, plus all the usual symptoms. I’ve had one of my eyes crust shut so badly I had to get a hot towel to get it open. I usually tear the lining of my sinuses and start sneezing blood everywhere.

And despite all this, I feel guilty about taking days off even when I’m sick. When I mentioned it to my Grownup Job coworkers they always react with surprise. Friday I was running a low-grade fever and could barely talk, but I still came in to work, and several people on my hall had comments to the gist of ‘what the fuck stay home you idiot’. I was surprised because I’m used to it just being accepted that you don’t call out of work for anything less than a severed limb, not if you want to keep your job. And it made me realize how much working a customer service job all during your twenties years can fuck you up for life. How NOT NORMAL a lot of that shit is. I’ve had to re-learn that it’s okay to value your physical health over performing your job duties.

Just saying that a little part of my brain goes, ‘that sounds fake but okay’.

That’s how pervasive the ‘work yourself to death for us’ mentality is in American customer service. I’ve been ORDERED to come in (TO A FUCKING FOOD SERVICE JOB) when I had a stomach flu and was throwing up into trash cans on the back line in between serving customers. Because they were short staffed and my manager didn’t give a shit about spreading germs or about my comfort if they impacted his bottom line. I’ve had to wait tables (which requires... you know, communication) when I couldn’t talk and had to write everything on a markerboard, because that was considered a ‘frivolous’ reason for calling out and I risked getting fired for it. I’ve seen women come in and be expected to cook on the line within a week of giving birth, because there was no maternity leave and your boss doesn’t give a shit you just squeezed a human out of your vagina, the store is short staffed and it’s busy season so get your ass in here if you want to keep your job.

I once totaled my car on my way in to a double shift, and my boss only excused my from the first shift. And even that she was pissed about. I was expected to go straight to work when I got out of the hospital, even though my body was so sore I couldn’t move my shoulders or neck.

That’s the level of dedication you’re expected to have to a job that offers next to no benefits, no salary, no raises, and still gets away with paying less than minimum wage on the expectation you’ll make the rest up in tips directly from the customers.

Now that I have a Real Grownup Job with a salary and insurance and benefits and everything, the mentality is ‘take care of yourself/don’t work yourself to death/take a sick day when you need it’. Now this is within reason- if I stub my toe I better suck it up and get my shit done. But if I’m actually sick I have sick days. I have vacation days because they don’t want me to be overworked (and thus less productive).

But my brain spent so much time as a customer service drone that this all feels strange and fake and weird, and I still feel that residual guilt for daring to actually take time when I need it.

#sick rambling #hi sorry #customer service #GEEEERMS #germs in my brain

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sickdaysofficial · 7 years

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Anywhere but here!... Too late.

My OC submission for this prompt. I wrote this while in pain from four fricken shots and also didn’t proofread so it might suck, but whatever. The others will hopefully be better. Mild language warning.

—–

“Hi, what can I get you?”

Jesse usually doesn’t mind his job, repetitive phrases and all. The coffee shop is small and locally owned, so the customers are nearly always polite and undemanding, and hectic days are uncommon. Today, though, he’s struggling to make it through his shift, which still has an hour and a half left.

The girl ordering gives a charming smile. “Just a hot chocolate is fine.”

“What size?”

“Medium.”

It takes Jesse a second longer than it should to remember what comes next. “Your name?”

“Mallory.”

Silently hoping to himself that he’s spelled it right, Jesse scribbles the name on the side of a cup. “Coming right up. That’ll be $3.49.” He sets the cup on the counter next to him for Rhiannon, who was filling the orders.

The girl hands him a five, and Jesse carefully counts out her change. He’s messed up the last three times, and his coworkers were starting to notice.

Rhiannon in particular is suspicious. As she grabs the two cups waiting for her on the counter, she shoots him a sideways glance.

“Jesse, I really think you should sit down.” Jesse only shakes his head. There’s no need to defend himself to her; he’s fine to work the rest of his shift. Anyway, it’s none of her business.

Rhiannon bites her lip. She doesn’t say anything more as she moves to fill the orders, but instead gives her friend a silent once-over. Now that there’s nobody in line, Jesse has leaned up against the counter with his eyes closed. He’s seemed a bit shaky on his feet, and she notices for the first time that he looks flushed - a faint pink tinge stands out against the pale skin beneath his eyes.

Rhiannon’s coworker, Missy, gives her a nudge. “Those are done, yeah? Put ‘em on the counter.”

She snaps out of it. “Right, yeah, sorry. One hot chocolate and one black coffee!” The two who had ordered walk up to get their drinks, nearly crashing into one another. Rhiannon and Missy watch the ensuing awkward apology with some amusement.

Before the situation can be totally resolved, a dull THUD catches Rhiannon’s attention. She turns on instinct and stiffens when she sees Jesse sprawled facedown on the countertop.

“Crap,” she hisses under her breath, rushing over to check on him. Missy follows behind her, worried and uncertain.

“Is he okay?” one of the customers mutters. He shuffles a bit, looking like he wants to do something but isn’t sure what.

Rhiannon lays a hand on Jesse’s shoulder, followed immediately by a fierce scowl. She can feel just how hot his body is through his shirt, but just as concerning is the slight, constant shivering.

Missy takes one look at Rhiannon’s expression and reads the whole situation immediately - there isn’t much that makes Rhi angry like this. “How bad is he?” She comes around to Jesse’s other side and attempts to lift his so that she can support his weight. Her eyes widen as soon as she touches him. “Pretty bad,” she finishes, answering her own question.

“You idiot.” Rhiannon sighs and looks over at Missy. “Let’s take him to Jeff’s office.” The two women heft Jesse’s limp body and carefully maneuver around the equipment and towards their manager’s office, followed by the quiet buzz of gossiping patrons.

Jeff looks up with his usual genial smile at the sound of the door opening. Upon seeing the three workers, though, his face immediately crumbles into a look of concern. “What happened?”

“He passed out,” Rhiannon mutters. “He’s running a crazy fever, I’m pretty sure he’s sick.”

Jeff comes out from behind his desk and hefts the younger man easily in his arms. “Mmm, I can feel it. Poor boy.” He carries Jesse over to the couch in the back, usually reserved for employees on break, and lays him gingerly onto the plush cushions.

“Now, let’s see here,” he begins, turning to face the girls and placing his hands on his hips. “We ought to call someone to pick him up, he can’t be allowed to work like this.”

“I’ve got his boyfriend’s number,” Rhiannon offers.

Jeff smiles at her. “Perfect!” The simple statement exudes pride, far more than most would feel for a simple phone number. “Why don’t you call him and then sit with Jesse while we wait for him. Missy, you and I will take over for now.”

Missy looks relieved that the situation had been handled with such ease. “'Kay.” Jeff strides out without another word, Missy right behind him.

Rhiannon sinks down beside her sick friend, leaning up against the couch. As she searches for Matt’s number in her contacts, she uses her other hand to feel Jesse’s forehead, frowning in consternation when she does so. She slips off Jesse’s glasses and pushes herself up from the floor, heading for the bathroom to wet a paper towel.

Simultaneously, she presses her phone to her ear, silently praying that Matt would pick up despite also being at work.

—–

Matt is surprised when his phone rings. He doesn’t get many calls at work, or in general, really, so he has no idea what this might be about.

“I - sorry, can I take this real quick?” He meets his frazzled manager’s eyes. Brent sighs but nods, waving him away.

“It’s fine, just make it quick. Your break ended a minute ago.”

Matt nods and steps outside. Pulling his phone from his pocket, he frowns when he sees “RHI” emblazoned across the screen. She should still be at work - why would she be calling him now of all times?“

"Rhi? What’s up?”

“Your boyfriend’s an idiot.” Her uncharacteristically angry tone catches Matt off guard, but what really surprises him is the worried undercurrent.

“Why, what happened?” Matt knows he’s more of a risk-taker than his boyfriend is, so if either one of them would do something stupid and get hurt, it would usually be him.

“He passed out at work. He’s running a fever and he hasn’t stopped shivering since I’ve been sitting with him.”

“Seriously?” He feels himself tense up. “Why didn’t he tell anyone before it came to that?”

“That’s what I’d like to know. It doesn’t matter now, though, you need to come get him. We don’t have medicine or anything here, I can’t take care of him like this.”

“Shit, uh, okay. Hold on a second.” He dashes back inside, dreading the conversation he’s about to have with his manager.

“Hey, Brent? I’m really sorry - ” As soon as the work sorry leaves his mouth, Brent’s expression morphs into one of frustrated resignation. “ - but my… my roommate passed out at work and I need to go get him.”

Brent sighs, dragging a hand down his face. “There’s no one else who can get him?” Matt shakes his head. “No one who can look after him until your shift ends?” Another shake. “All right. I’m going to assume that I won’t be seeing you back today. Call as soon as possible if you can’t make it in tomorrow. And kick his ass once he’s okay. You realize this is less pay for you and a busier time for the rest of us.”

A twinge of guilt runs through him, but Matt knows that his boyfriend needs him more than his coworkers right now. “Yeah, I know. Sorry again.”

“Not your fault. Just get going.”

—–

The bell above the door tinkles cheerily when Matt walks into the coffee shop, contrasting with his mood. The shop is mostly empty now - just a few patrons engrossed in their laptops.

The man working the counter looks up when Matt walks in; Matt recognizes him as Jesse’s boss, although he can’t remember the guy’s name. “Where’s Jesse?” he asks without preamble.

The man smiles kindly. “You must be Matt. Jesse’s told us a lot about you.” He points to a door behind him. “He’s back there. You can come around that side of the counter.”

“Thanks.” In the blink of an eye, Matt is behind the counter and stepping through the doorway. Rhiannon looks up when he walks in.

“Hey,” she says. “Good timing. He just woke up.”

“She won’t give me back my glasses,” Jesse mutters in irritation, voice raspy.

Matt kneels down next to him, brushing Jesse’s cheek with his thumb. He frowns upon feeling the feverish heat. “You won’t be needing them anyway. You should still be asleep.” His initial thought had been to chew his boyfriend out about hiding his sickness from everyone, but the sight of Jesse lying stretched out on the couch, clearly miserable, soften him. “C'mon, sit up. I’m gonna bring you home.”

Rhiannon lends a supporting arm around his shoulders as Jesse eases himself into a sitting position. He turns so that his feet are on the ground, but hesitates to stand. “I’m… I feel kinda dizzy,” he admits. “I don’t know if I can stand.” The words are laced with embarrassment, and Matt’s heart goes out to him.

“Here, I’ll carry you.” Matt carefully works an arm under the crook of Matt’s knees, cradling his warm, lightly trembling boyfriend close as he lifts carefully. Despite his earlier cover-up, Jesse has fully embraced the fact that he’s sick; it’s a testament to how badly he’s feeling when he buries his face between Matt’s neck and shoulder.

Rhiannon follows them out, holding onto her sick coworker’s glasses. Missy and Jeff wave as Matt makes his way toward the door. “Feel better, Jesse,” Jeff says genuinely. Jesse makes a weak noise of assent, not lifting his head.

When the group of three reaches Matt’s car, Rhiannon opens the passenger door so that Matt can deposit him there. She wordlessly hands Jesse’s glasses over to Matt and leans over to buckle Jesse’s seatbelt. Matt walks around to the other side.

Once everything is situated, Matt rolls down the window. “Thanks for calling me. I don’t know what we’d do without you looking out for us.”

She sighs. “Die, probably.”

He offers a rueful smile. “You might be right.”

“Come on, we’re not that bad.” Jesse barely speaks above a whisper, but the faintest trace of a smile paints his lips.

“You kind of are.” Rhiannon softens her demeanor. “Rest up, okay? We all want you to stay away from work until you’re better. Customers included, they don’t want your germs.”

“Fine, fine.”

“Good. Bye, guys.” Seemingly satisfied, she turns and walks back to finish her shift as Matt rolls up the window.

The car is silent for the duration of the ride home. Matt is content to let Jesse rest. They are definitely going to have words once Jesse is more coherent - he still needs to kick Jesse’s ass for this, after all. But for now, Matt is all gentleness as he carries his ailing boyfriend to his room.

“Call me if you need anything,” he whispers, running a hand through Jesse’s sweat-damp hair.

Jesse’s eyes open, swiveling to look vaguely in Matt’s direction as a tiny smile appears. “I always will.”

—–

(If I can shamelessly plug myself real fast, my url is @swiggity-swump.)

#fever #July 24 2017 #day 2: anywhere but here #sickdays 3.0 #submission

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alo-piss-trancy · 7 years

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Okay I found one of the super/girl drafts on my laptop and was relieved for a minute and prepared to start writing, only to find that all I had saved was the prompt itself c':

I don't have the energy to try and recreate what I had rn (it was at almost 1000 words so far and about Cat and had great sassy lines I am dying) so instead take these ideas for Winn and Kara omo bc their bff relationship gives me life and no one talks about it even in general much less in omo and also I really want Winn to soak himself bc he's cute and I'd kiss him

1. Consider the day when Kara first started working at Cat/Co. Ah yes, the cute new assistant who sits right next to Winn and they have a nice enough time chatting with each other while he gives her a general idea of how things work around the office. They have a few more conversations between projects throughout the day, and towards the last hour or so of the day Winn realizes that Kara hasn't left her desk for anything ALL DAY except to bring Cat lunch and some papers (and maybe you could have guessed that she'd gone then, except he'd admittedly been unable to take his eyes off of her whenever she walked by, so he knew she hadn't gone near that direction), and he naturally gets a little concerned that she's probably dying by this point and oh crap maybe no one told her where they were and she's just been too nervous to ask? He's super embarrassed to even bring it up but finally manages to blurt out a casual (aka not casual at all but awkward af) "Hey, uh, you know the bathrooms are just down that hall, right? Like, in case no one told you...". Kara, of course, with her superhuman bladder of steel, hasn't even felt much of an urge yet, and just casually nods with a "Yeah, I know, thanks." before she goes back to her work. Winn probably looked her over just to make sure she wasn't just faking casual because he knew some people were shy enough to deny it even if they were about to burst, but she honestly looks just as unbothered as she sounded, so he drops it and wonders how on earth this girl is fine when he's had to take at least 3 breaks today.

Throughout the rest of the week Kara continues to last the entire workday from morning 'till night without bathroom breaks, and Winn is probably impressed but it also makes him kind of self-conscious to be the only one getting up and drawing attention to himself multiple times or interrupting their conversations. So the next Monday he decides to try and start holding back and hopefully match Kara's unholy endurance, because if someone as normal as her can do it then maybe it isn't actually that hard and he's just kind of weak (he's already the office nerd, it probably isn't much of a stretch now that he thinks about it). He makes it through the first few hours and his first break okay (well, not okay, but he can keep still), but about an hour after lunch he's starting to really feel it, pressing his legs together or crossing them at the ankles or scooting his chair around as a distraction. Kara probably gets a little concerned by the soft moans under his breath that her superhearing picks up and asks if he's sick or something, but he manages to brush off her worries and insists he's fine. It works, but only a half hour after that he's absolutely DYING and he can't sit still and nothing is comfortable and he decides to cave and get up because he really can't do this except the second he tries to stand he feels a leak into his boxers and sits right back into his chair with a strained squeal. And by this point Kara is definitely worried because poor Winn is all sweaty and blushing and she definitely heard that leak and figured out what was going on, so she casually scoots her chair over to try and talk to him without drawing everyone else's attention, and he finally admits that he's never had to pee this badly in his l i f e but he really doesn't think he can stand much less move and oh gosh every breath is slicing into his bladder and he has to stop whispering to her so he can grab himself and hunch over with a nervous little moan bc holy shit he can feel it running right up to the edge of his dick and he doesn't know what to do and what if Cat comes over how on earth is he going to explain this and he's just rocking in the edge of his seat trying to hold on and shaking like a leaf. Kara really has no clue what to do either because she can't exactly justify using superspeed to rush him to the bathroom bc there's no way to explain suddenly teleporting there or even just scooping him up bc you don't just do that to your coworkers, and helping walk him there isn't even an option since he can't stand.

There are two ways this could play out.

Either A. she tells him to try and hold it in for just a few minutes while walks out as casually as possible before whooshing around the different floors looking for something useable, and if they're lucky she comes back and manages to sneak whatever the object is (like a large soda cup or a personal trash can or smth) under his desk and Kara finds some loud distracting way to keep everyone in the room from hearing (maybe she sets off an alarm in another part of the building or just 'accidentally' bumps someone else's computer to play music really loudly while they struggle to shut it off) while Winn gushes into the makeshift toilet with the force of a firetruck's pressure hose.

Or B. Kara really can't think of anything to do to help and before she can think much further Winn starts leaking harder and gasping and groaning and he's trying to keep quiet but it's hard when the feelings are so strong and painful and he loses complete control a second later in the chair, warm piss completely flooding his pants and running down his legs into his shoes and it's pooling in the seat and drenching the carpet and it's hissing loudly enough to draw attention and it's honestly all Winn can do to keep from crying bc it hurts but it's also SO relieving and also completely mortifying he's going to be the laughing stock of the office and once it's over Cat pipes up from where she'd arrived in time to witness the last of the event and makes some kind of snarky remark comparing him to a toddler before snapping at him to go get cleaned up, change at home if he needs to, and then come back to work bc he's still got half a day left and she isn't paying him to hide under a rock in shame. Once Winn slinks out and people go back to work Cat's probably about to call the janitor but Kara insists she'll clean it up bc she doesn't want more people to find out about it ('Kara you should know I'm not paying you overtime for doing someone else's job') and Cat relents bc as long as that mess gets cleaned up before the germs multiply she really doesn't care who does it. Kara probably uses a smidge of secret superbreath to make sure his spot is as dry as can possibly be when he gets back and she probably got him some kind of sweet treat to brighten him up a bit.

No matter which ending happens Winn is absolutely beyond mortified bc he just almost/actually pissed himself in front of Kara and everyone else and he probably looked completely pathetic and gross and she's never going to want to talk to him again jfc. Of course then Kara is nothing but sweet and understanding and tries her very best to help take his mind off of it and get things back to normal and makes him feel a lot better about the whole incident. She also takes the hint after that and starts taking more frequent bathroom breaks at work even though she doesn't really need them, just so he's more comfortable about it.

Okay this was intended to be a whole list of cute scenarios but look at my wordy ass getting WAY out of hand with number 1 jfc I guess I'll save the rest for more posts lmao at least you get this one for now I'll do the rest later

#omorashi #male omo #male omorashi #bear txt #superpiss #dunno if that tag counts since it isn't kara wetting but its the same show so #lowkey praying this doesn't pop up in the character tags bc this site is lagging way too much for me to put slashes through all of them #@the fandom i'm sorry if you find this and aren't into omo just ignore it lmao #dc omo

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shianhygge-imagines · 8 years

Text

REQUEST: Sick Week [DedSec/Reader]

Lol, I’ll try not to get sick. No guarantees though. The weather in New York suddenly got cooler, and I tend to get sick with the radical changes in temperature/weather conditions. It sucks. :P I tried to treat all the characters as equals... but I am very biased and uninspired for some of these. I won’t lie.

|Masterlist|

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Horatio (he’s dead but...)

~ The Situation: Normal flu, bit of a cough, lots of sneezing... Just feeling all around miserable, honestly. You got sick from kissing Horatio when he was sick and you were taking care of him...

~ But it was your week off, so honestly, you didn’t want to worry him. Your boyfriend already gets enough shit from work, so you didn’t need to drag him away from his job and get him into even more trouble. And besides, Horatio always made time for you, so it was about time that you let him have some time away, yeah?

~ No. Because Horatio notices when you aren’t around. Like he’s innately always looking for you by his side. Whenever he’s not at work, you’re usually next to him, or texting him. You were a constant by his side. So, yeah. Once you get sick enough to not want to go outside or go on your phone, Horatio notices.

~ Horatio will give you a call or two... and then text you. But when you don’t answer after his first few attempts, he’s quick to go to your place, ringing the doorbell until you drowsily shout out for whoever the hell it was to quit it and leave you alone.

~ Your boyfriend is insistent about seeing you. But you’re telling him to go away because you don’t want him sick as well. “Babe... I know you have work, so please just leave me alone, okay?” You care about Horatio a bit too much, and he knows it, so he’s stern in his next course of action.

~ He calls into work and takes the next few days off, ignoring your protests through the front door. And when it’s done, he opens the front door using your spare key. You call him an idiot, but Horatio is all smiles as he hugs you.

~ The world could end, and he’d still be there for you.

Josh

~ The Situation: You probably got sick from some sort of illness that’s been spreading around your university campus. You’d expect that with the amount of money that you payed to stay in Cali for schooling, that the school would go around disinfecting populated areas every night. But no. They don’t do that in my university and they don’t do it in yours.

~ So now, you’re sick... like dry cough, sore throat, and migraines sick (it sucks. These symptoms together were just awful last year... my head hurts thinking about it). But you know? You’ve only been dating Josh for a few weeks, so letting him know about your being sick feels like you’re inconveniencing him. Plus the fact that Josh has a light phobia of germs, you just didn’t want to bother him. But, your roommate’s gone for a competition that week, so you’re alone... and sick... and you’re not very good at taking care of yourself. The symptoms just get worse... and you kind of end up in the hospital from dehydration... and you’ve been coughing so often that your throat has been scarred and is bleeding just a bit.

~ But here’s the thing... Josh... when he gets into his work, he barely notices how much time has passed. So it’s no wonder that you don’t get a visit from your boyfriend until much later that week. Sitara had pointed out that you had yet to call Josh, and it had been a few days. So, like the hyperfocused and dutiful boyfriend he is, he immediately skips calling you, and tracks you down via data mining... and reluctantly pays you a visit at the hospital.

~ There’s an unimpressed expression on his face, like he’s baffled that you had managed to get sick enough to be sent to the hospital, but he’s also glad that you weren’t in worse shape. He won’t kiss you for a while, but he’ll let you hug him. He’ll also feel bad that he wasn’t there for you, but he’s not comfortable showing it, so you’ll find that your hospital bill has been paid in full. Lol.

~ Give him some love... please... ;.;

Marcus (bit longer because I have literally nothing for our dear, dear Marcus)

~ The Situation: Since I’ve been basing my Marcus characteristics off of Ray Narveaz Jr. aka Brownman’s, playthrough... You kind of got a stomach virus... okay... maybe a really bad stomach virus... From eating tacos... Because your neighbor made tacos, and Marcus is always raving about the damn taco truck. So why not try it?

~ Erm... big mistake... You’re pretty sure the meat was cooked all the way... but you’re not quite so sure that the other ingredients were properly prepared. I would hazard a guess and say that the taco was stored properly by your neighbor after they made it. And if you cool something hot way too fast, or heat something cold way too fast, it’s called “temperature abuse.” And that type of situation promotes bacterial growth. (I’m sorry if you feel uncomfortable now.) So now the microbial ecosystem in your body is out of wack... and... well... diarrhea... and it gets progressively better as the week goes on because you have Pepto in your medicine cabinet... Still, you haven’t called Marcus yet and it’s making him worry a lot...

~ You’ve been dating Marcus since he accidentally tested the bank hacking software on your account. You’d been depositing your recent paycheck after a hard day at work (it didn’t help that your coworkers and superiors were all grade A assholes to you all the time.) And Marcus had seen how hard you work through your online info, and how little you get in return for your work... so he decided to give you money instead of taking money... but he made a mistake, and with a swipe of his finger, he’d given all your money away to needy children. And you, who have to work so hard to pay back for your student loans, pay rent and utility bills, as well as support your family... well, the sudden unfairness of life just caused you to have a mental breakdown at the ATM, just sobbing your heart out because rent was due that day. Marcus felt so bad about what he did, that immediately went into your account and added everything back and then some (like ten times the amount, lol)... and then he went to personally apologize to you... you’d hit him... but the two of you ended up dating so...

~ But anyways! You’re always sending each other memes or he’s always texting you for dates, so it’s an established routine, yeah? But when you’re sick, you don’t really want to deal with phones, people, lights, the cold... So you haven’t contacted Marcus in a while and now he’s worried. After maybe fifty texts from him in a row, you finally answer and tell him that you wish to be left alone. (*cue a picture of a sad puppy) <- that... is what he sends you. And he won’t stop... so you eventually give in and tell him that you’ve caught a stomach virus and are recovering, “Please don’t come over, okay? I just want to get through this.”

~ Eh... nope. Marcus is having none of that. Instead, he shows up on your balcony... he used a lift to get up there... and he has a ton of water jugs and healthy foods... and a teddy bear that says “Get better” on it. Honestly, it’s too sweet that you can’t shut him out and you end up passing your sickness with your devoted boyfriend watching over you.

Sitara

~ The Situation: Health-wise, there was nothing wrong with you at all. Simply put, all the stress of life just kind of piled onto your shoulders all at once one day, and you’ve been distressed since. You’d tried the adult way, simply working through your seemingly endless responsibilities, balancing work, bills, your relationship, social life, physical health, etc... But it’s simply to say that simply trying to work your way through problems with intense vigor doesn’t really help much. Headaches came and went, sometimes you had to try and fall asleep with a migraine. So, you decided to take a few days off. Mental health days. To take a step back from the responsibilities and reevaluate everything.

~ You let Sitara know of your decision because you know that she would probably go a bit ape shit if you suddenly disappeared off the face of the Earth for a few days. No. It’s simply not right to ghost on your significant other. NEVER. EVER. DO. IT.

~ Of course, Sitara is completely understanding of wanting to take some time away from your responsibilities. She would join you, but work with DedSec is a near 24/7 job. She’ll probably recommend some things for you to do on your time off, but she’ll leave it up to you in the end.

~ Though... if you do request her presence, with you during your off days... She’ll be glad to stay with you. Sitara can do work from your place. Though, expect her to mother hen you a little... or a lot.

Wrench

~ The Situation: You’re new to this whole dating thing... and your boyfriend is Wrench... you’ve been dating him for only a month so far, so it’s still a fairly new relationship and you’re not really knowledgable about what Wrench is comfortable with, what he’s uncomfortable with... You’re a few years younger than him, but your mental age is higher. So when you come down with a simple cold (coughing, phlegm, stuffy nose, light sensitivity, and bodily aches), you play the ‘responsible’ adult and tell Wrench to leave you alone for a week... or two... depends how good your immune system is.

~ Wrench is... okay with you not being around him for like... the first few days... and then he’s missing you. First, he’ll text you. Then, he’ll call you. And like Marcus, if you don’t call back within the first few hours, then he’s booking it to your home. I don’t think he’ll even knock on the door, he’ll probably pick the lock open to get in... or hack into your apartment building’s security feed to check up on you.

~ You’re a student, and you’ve been too sick to attend lectures, but it still doesn’t excuse you in the eyes of your professors, so you’re probably still doing school work while ill. There’s textbooks spread out in your living room and notes pinned or taped everywhere because you either have exams, projects, research, essays, or homework problems to do... or maybe all at once. And the professor expects you to turn them in on the days they are due... so you still have to leave your apartment to hand shit in. (The professors in my university have no mercy)

~ But yeah, even when you’re sick you work hard, and when Wrench lays his eyes on your form, huddled in blankets, but surrounded by work, he nearly walks back out and to your university to give your professors a piece of his mind. But you turn around and see him at your door. “Hey, Wrench. Did you come to see little old me? That’s sweet.” And there’s this loving smile on your face that has Wrench changing his mind, shutting the front door closed and strolling over to pull you onto his lap. And he just cradles you to him.

~ Don’t get me wrong, Wrench’ll probably scold you for working too hard because it’s been a few days and you don’t even look the slightest bit better. He’s probably going to stubbornly stick by your side as you do work, while also making you soup and other foods, keeping you hydrated. Because Wrench is used to living alone, so he’s had to know how to take care of a sick person. So, you have Wrench to give you extra lovin when you’re sick. ;3

~ If you don’t get any better though, I think Wrench will be the one to escort you to the hospital. He refuses to fuck around with your health.

~~~~~~

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