#but i think ill actually be able to buy food and items i need next semester 😩😩 wont go broke from traveling home | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bangchanshehe · 4 years

Text

Bodyguard Lee pt.1

You met a kind stranger wandering the streets of Athens who was willing to go out of his way to help you. But across the globe weeks later you cross paths with him again. Could having this many unexpected meetings be a happy coincidence or an ill-fated destiny?

word count:2k

“Okay, I think we got the last shot we can pack up and go back to the hotel now” your manager said looking through the camera monitor at the last clip the music video director shot.

You nodded your head and quickly bowed politely to everyone in the film crew who just contributed to the past few days of filming for your upcoming music video. You were dead tired, covered in clothes that were so bedazzled and weighted that walking in them alone was a workout, let alone dancing in them. You had about three pounds of glitter covering your body and your feet felt like they would explode if you had to wear the heels you were in for a second longer.

Your manager came next to you and gave you a soft pat on your head “good job y/n. Everything will be done once we get the jacket cover shot”

You looked up at her and let out a long sigh. This project seemed like it would never end for you, and of course you decided to do all of your filming overseas, so none of your normal routine was kept in place. And in efforts to not sound like a totally ungrateful brat you definitely were happy with how smooth things were running and how well everyone worked together in order to produce an amazing video for you. It’s just three days of running the same music over and over, dancing the same dance and working from 6am to 6pm was an absolute killer.

Your manager looked down at your feet and grimaced at bit noticing the blood that was starting to dry up from the blisters on your feet opening again and again the past few days. “hang tight, I’m going to go get the car” she said before she quickly disappeared.

You had spotted and empty chair so you wobbled over to it and quickly sat down and took off you heels. You winced as you peeled the demon shoes over your feet and you tried to massage the pain away before you had to put them back on.

“y/n!” you heard your name being called out from behind you

You turned to see a member of the set calling out for you as he ran towards you. You looked up to him confused as to why he was in such a rush. when he finally was within arms reach he softly smiled and bent over to catch his breath.

“y/n, I know this isn’t exactly business professional….” He gasped for air “but I’m actually a really big fan of yours! Would you mind taking a picture with me?” he asked with a shy smile

You chuckled at him for being so shy and you nodded your head “of course. But if you don’t mind…. Do you think you could bend over so I don’t have to stand up?” you asked him pointing at your bloodied feet

The crew member followed your finger and looked down at your feet only to look back up at you with his mouth open with shock. “of course! Thank you so much!”

He held up his phone and quickly snapped the photo of you two while the set was slowly broken down and packed away piece by piece in the background.

Just in record time your manager pulled around and stopped next to the chairs you were resting at and quickly jumped out to the open the door and help you get into your seat in the back. The moment that your door was shut you ripped off your heels and put on slippers. It was a shame that you weren’t able to take better care of your feet during this trip but having to maintain your perfect image was more important than your health sometimes.

As the two of you rode in silence you stared out the window into the busy streets of Athens and wondered where everyone was going. You watched as groups of friends were smiling and chatting with one another as they made their way to their destinations and as mothers walked hand in hand with their children on their way home. You had let a single tear fall from the corner of your eye and you quickly wiped it away before your manager saw anything.

You had loved your life and the abilities that you had now to do whatever you wanted and to take care of your family. Except that you couldn’t have the one thing that you really wanted… and that was to just be a normal girl again.

You faced the front of the car and stared at your manager for a moment as you gauged her mood. “do you think that tonight I would have time to take a look around the buildings near our hotel?” you asked her softly hoping that you would get a yes from her.

She turned her head to get a small glance at you before she turned back to face the road “with feet like that?” she asked jokingly. She was silent for a few moments before she finally spoke up again “you don’t have anything scheduled until 12 tomorrow so as long as you don’t stay out too long I don’t see a problem with that.”

You sat back into your seat and smiled to yourself. Out of everything that you had done this what you had looked forward to the most. Even if it was only to look around for an hour, you desperately wanted some alone time to smell all of the food and the wine, and explore what the city looked like at night.

“but you’d better wear some good shoes, because I wont answer the phone if you need me to come pick you up because your feet start hurting you!” she finished

“I wont! I promise” you said quickly

Within a few more minutes you were back at your hotel and you practically sprinted up to your room to take a shower. You thoughtlessly washed your face and hair, too excited to take your time and complete your usual routines when all you wanted to do was get out and explore. As soon as you were done rinsing off you found your most comfortable clothes and a pair of slides that wouldn’t rub the back of your heels and blow dried your hair.

“bye” you yelled out to your manager as you smiled and made your way to the front door of your shared room

“bye” she said back with a chuckle.

You quickly left the room and prompted the elevator to take you down and as you waited you could feel the excitement begin to bubble inside of you. You had thought about what all you wanted to experience in your short time of freedom. The elevator opened and you began to make your way down to the lobby. Once it opened up you smiled and decided that the first thing that you needed was to get a souvenir for your mom. She never asked you to bring anything back from trips because she knew how busy you were and how your trips were business based and you hardly left any time for you to actually relax and enjoy where you were. But despite not having the time you always tried your hardest to at least bring her back something.

When you were finally in the street you closed your eyes and took a deep breath, and allowed yourself to just enjoy this small moment. You looked up and down the road and followed the one that seemed the most busy, in order to avoid being taken to a residential area.

The street was filled with people walking around, taking photos, and eating on street side patios. You window shopped as you passed by each business and frowned as you noticed that the shops were for things that you couldn’t exactly take back home with you like glass blown items or things that were generic that you could buy anywhere. But instead of going back to the hotel you decided to continue to follow the flow of traffic into the next street.

Again, you were down on your luck and couldn’t find more than a few bistros and businesses, so you decided to enter a convenience store and ask for help to find a souvenir shop. You had waited in the line until it was your turn and tried your best to ask for directions, but your language barrier was really keeping you from making any progress.

“I’m sorry I don’t know what you are saying” the cashier said in her best English with her hands in the air

“excuse me…” the man behind you said in Korean and you immediately turned around, excited and slightly hopeful that maybe he could help you

“yes?” you responded

“if you need directions somewhere I can help you, but allow for me to pay for my items first” he said and you gladly moved out of his way so he could check out

As he placed his items on the counter you looked at his side profile, and smiled to yourself. He wasn’t bad looking at all. In fact he was one of the first few men who had caught your attention in a long time.

When he was done he turned to face you with his bags and gave you a polite smile. He walked outside and you followed him like a lost puppy.

“where are you trying to go?” he asked you

You smiled up at him “I’m trying to find souvenirs to take back home”

“like postcards, cups, shirts… that sort of thing?” he asked and you shook your head quickly

He sucked on his teeth and looked up and down the street as if gauging which way he should go before he looked back down at you with a frown “you’re kind of in a bad spot for that sort of thing” he said softly and your smile quickly faded into a sulk. “the nearest ones are in the opposite direction from where we are. You see we are kind of in a residential area so there isn’t much around here accept for some specialty shops and cafes” he explained

You looked down at your feet and then back up at the streets. You had already spent at least 30 minutes just walking around and waiting in line at this small store. Dusk was starting to fall and you were really upset that you might not be able to find anything before businesses close.

“thanks” you said politely before you began to walk back in the direction of the hotel.

You walked in silence for a moment before you felt someone’s hand on your wrist “wait one moment” you turned around to find the same man who had helped you before. You had stopped and turned to face him once more

“if you give me five minutes I can take these home and then come back and help you get around” he offered you kindly with a soft smile

You battled with the voice in your head that told you that walking around in a foreign country with a stranger was a bad idea but decided that without him you probably wouldn’t get too far without being able to speak the language or know your sense of direction in general.

You nodded your head and gave him a soft “thank you” before he returned a beautiful smile back

“just wait here and ill be back as soon as I can!” he said before he turned around and ran down the road.

You watched as he ran off and you smiled to yourself. Thank god you found someone who was kind enough to help you. And thank god he didn’t recognize you… or at least he was really good at keeping his cool…. Or maybe he just didn’t care. Regardless you were really happy that this man was behind you in this line today.

43 notes · View notes

kitkat1003 · 4 years

Text

For the Love of, and Full of Hope

Wakko isn’t book smart, or social smart, not by any means, but even he isn’t dumb enough not to know that his family is worn thin. Threadbare and dying. They need more.

So he goes to get it.

Or: A 12 year old spends a year getting a single hay penny. Wonder what happened there.

Warnings: Death, Violence

Edit: this is part of a series, here is the Ao3 link

@asilcorner here

The decision to leave isn’t an easy one, and he can tell Yakko wants to argue. Of anyone in their family, Yakko is the one least likely to mention a want, but Wakko can tell that there’s one on the tip of his tongue.

I don’t want you to go.

If Yakko said that, Wakko would stay, because Yakko works so hard, Yakko deserves his wants. But Wakko knows, and Yakko knows, that they both want Dot to be alive far more than Yakko doesn’t want him to leave. So he thanks the world that train fare is practically free and buys himself a ticket.

“Why do you have to go?” Dot asks, the night before he leaves. He’s resting right next to her, and her voice sounds hoarse. Tight. Weak. The reason he’s going, to make her better, cements in further.

“We need money,” He tells her, honest. “Besides, the ticket’s already paid for. It’d be a shame to waste it now,” he shrugs, smiling despite the ever present ache, from starvation and exhaustion and the chill.

“I wish I could go with you,” She whispers, and he sighs.

“I wish you could too,” Because if she could, he wouldn’t need to leave in the first place.

The next day is joyously morose affair. He leaves with the hopes of everyone on his shoulders. Yakko hugs him tight, and Wakko can feel Yakko’s hands tremble against Wakko’s back, balled up in fistfuls of his sweater.

“Stay safe,” It’s phrased more like a plead than a simple farewell, and Wakko would like to be able to make promises, but...

“I’ll try,” he says, and he means it.

“See you in a year, sis,” He ruffles Dot’s hair, and she smacks at his hands, but she’s smiling.

“Not a day late or early,” She orders, and he grins.

“You got it.”

And the train departs, and Wakko sits all by himself as the place he knew as his home for all his life gets smaller and smaller as he gets farther and farther away.

He lets himself cry when it disappears, because he’s young, and alone, and afraid. But he has to do this. He has to try. Dot and Yakko need him.

It’s not hard to fall asleep. Compared to the abandoned orphanage they live in, the train seats are far more comfortable.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He wakes up a town over, and the train offers hot food, but he declines. He doesn’t have the money for it, even though his stomach screams for food. He nibbles on the jerky Yakko bought for him before he left. Wakko knows just how long he can not eat for before his body rebels against him-earlier than most people. Yakko says he has what one would call a ‘Chronic illness.’ All Wakko knows is that it makes him more of a deadweight for Yakko to carry, because despite Yakko trying to be slick, he could see at home that his older brother was giving him bigger servings while Yakko got less.

Hopefully, now that Wakko is gone, Yakko can actually eat like a normal person. With how Yakko is, though, Wakko expects he’ll take that extra food and give it all to Dot.

People come off and on the train at every random stop, but Wakko’s ticket is for a long ways away. Five towns over. He’s heard stories there, about how there are always jobs open. He’s going to do them all. He’ll work himself down to the bone, and come back with a fortune, and Dot will get better and everyone will be happy.

Days pass. He gets up, on occasion, to stretch his legs, because the last thing he needs are his muscles atrophying because he couldn’t be bothered to move. He loses his seat once or twice, but he is very adept at annoying people into moving, so he never loses it for long. He makes the piece of jerky last, so that even on the last night before he gets off of the train he still has a quarter of a piece left. It’s easy to not be hungry when you don’t move much. That must be why Dot hardly has an appetite.

He’s asleep when he reaches his destination, practically thrown from the train by a conductor who holds no pity for a half starved child. This town is prosperous, due to it’s industrious mining community. He can see the ‘Help Wanted’ signs plastered on certain storefronts, and tries to figure out what to do.

Yakko had told him that under no circumstances was he to even think about going into the mines. The mines are where people go to die, and Yakko told him it was better if Wakko came home empty handed than not at all.

They’d had the conversation far away from the house, where Dot couldn’t hear. She was already near bedridden most days, looking half dead. She didn’t need to hear about how dire things were, when part of the reason things were that is because she was so sick. It isn’t her fault, but she wouldn’t see it that way.

He tries first, at the bakery. He’s young, spry, and wiling to do whatever they need him to. He’s made to be the janitor, because he doesn’t know how to bake and they don’t need anyone to learn. When things go in the oven, he clears the work space, sweeps the floor of the spilt flour, wipes down trays, cleans dishes. It’s not easy work, but Wakko would like to say he works well.

He does not, in fact, work well.

It was probably a bad choice to pick a place filled with food for his first job when he’s been half starved for most of his life, but it seemed a good option at the time. He can’t help but try and sample some of the goods, so hungry it hurts, and the owner of the bakery doesn’t have time for charity cases.

He gets caught on his third day, and after getting yelled at so loud that his hands shake and his ears ring, he’s unceremoniously thrown out, sliding across cobblestone so hard his skin scrapes and he’s glad that black fur doesn’t show off blood well. Three day’s pay is a pittance, but it’s enough to get him some food for the night. He sleeps outside, in an alley, by the dumpsters.

The next day he goes to the general store. It doesn’t sell food more so than it sells equipment. A lot of its sales comes from supplying the mining sector with its equipment, and the rest is from the random items the townspeople need.

Wakko is a stocker. It suits him fine. He’s always been almost abnormally strong for his age, and he works hard not to mess this up. It’s a nice routine, though his brain gets ever so slightly bored. He’s someone who craves unpredictability, who loves chaos. The doldrum does very little for him, mentally, but he shoves it down and keeps working. He takes a breath every moment even though the cold air makes his lungs wince and puts his personality on the shelf and works and works and works.

He manages well for about four months.

And then, one night, he gets cornered in an alley.

“Hey, kid,” There are three men surrounding him, tall and lean. Men is a strong word-they’re teenagers, older than Yakko but nowhere near and adult. “Heard you’re the new stocker at the general store,” Wakko has no idea why this guy cares, but he just nods, because it seems polite.

The response he receives is having his sweater be grabbed before he is slammed into the wall, head knocking against stone.

“You think you can step in on my job while I’m out of town? Huh?” He shakes Wakko, as if Wakko can reply when he’s still dazed from having his head knocked around. “I own that job. I can come and go as I please, and make money when I want. That’s how it works here.”

And Wakko hates that. Hates the cavalier that this teen holds, to be able to come and go as he pleases, to always have a job waiting for him. Has this guy ever had to wonder if his sibling was going to survive the night? Has he ever even gone hungry?

It’s the same entitlement Plotz has, and it brings out a fire Wakko didn’t know he had.

“It said help wanted,” he responds, shrugging nonchalantly. “Not my fault that you were gone.”

That is, apparently, the wrong thing to say. Wakko has never been good with his words, and that’s why Yakko always did the talking. He gets a fist to his jaw, dropping to the ground.

“What a smartmouth,” The leader sneers. “Why don’t we teach this kid a lesson?”

“Well, I’ve never been to school before,” Wakko wheezes, grinning like nothing’s wrong, and he gets a kick to his ribs for that.

He should really stop trying to be Yakko.

“Shut up,” One of the teens say, and he does.

It doesn’t stop them.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

When he goes to work the next day, he has a black eye he can’t see out of and a limp. Black fur doesn’t show off bruises, but he’s pretty sure one of his fingers is broken with how purple it is. He shows up to work anyway.

When he does, the owner looks over him appraisingly.

“I see you met the town boys,” He says. “The leader is the mayor’s son,” Wakko frowns-of course he is.

Wakko gets to work, but the owner follows him.

“I thought he was staying out of town for another week, figured I’d fire you then,” Wakko freezes, holding three boxes of pickaxes. “But I can’t have the mayor down my neck. Find somewhere else to work.”

And Wakko isn’t vindictive, not by any means, but he feels a little too good when he says “Okay,” and lets the pickaxes all drop to the floor, hearing the crash and running out before the owner can catch him.

From there, he goes through jobs like they’re candy. He trips at the candlemaker’s and nearly burns the whole place down. Tries the printing press, but he can’t really read well, so he can’t tell if there’s any errors, and makes too many mistakes. Works at a family farm, but one of the animals kicks him into the fence and the family says that it’s a sign that this isn’t his place to work.

No wonder this town has so many help wanted signs , if these are the guys hiring.

His favorite job of the bunch is the inn, because they let him sleep in a spare room so long as he cleans it before he goes to work, and it doesn’t count towards his paycheck. However, the mayor’s kid comes in one day, sees him, says something to the owner, and Wakko is back on the streets again.

He wants to break down and cry and go home. He’s trying so hard, he’s doing what he’s supposed to. It’s been eight months and he never has more than enough to buy dinner because he can’t save when he’s losing jobs a couple months in.

He needs something stable. Something no one would fire him from.

He looks toward the mines.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He remembers the promise he made to Yakko, to not work there. Knows he shouldn’t. But he’s out of jobs, and he’s out of options.

He promised, but Yakko’s broken promises too. When Dot first got sick, Wakko was nearly in tears with worry. That’s his little sister, why can’t she play? Why does she keep coughing? What’s wrong with her?

“It’s just a cold,” Yakko had said. “She’ll get better soon. Promise.”

But she hadn’t, and that’s why he’s here, so if Yakko can lie to make Wakko feel better than Wakko can break a promise too, to make sure that when he comes home he’ll have something to give. Because, as much as it would break Yakko’s heart if Wakko never came back, Wakko would rather that happen then come back with nothing and watch Dot wither away.

He goes to the mines, and puts on a hard hat, and gets to work.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The mines are a grueling place, and Wakko understands very quickly why Yakko never wanted him to work in such an environment. Half of the time he has to stop and cough, because every breath is coal ash in his lungs, every time he moves he feels like he’s going to drop dead. Lunch time is fifteen minutes and he doesn’t have anywhere to prepare a lunch so typically he buys some salted meats or preserved vegetables the night before and sticks it in his sweater pocket so he doesn’t starve to death. He supposes the upside to having been poor all your life is that you’re good at eating quickly.

You never know when the food you have could be taken away.

They get coal, and then they lug it to the minecarts to be taken out of the mine. Rinse and repeat. He doesn’t even have time to be zany when he’s so exhausted, so he’s just as dead eyed as the rest of the toons and men around him.

Every once in a while, there will be a rumble from above, and the whole cave will shake, and they will all freeze and hold their breath, because one wrong move could mean collapse.

One of the older men asks him, one day, “Why are you here, son?” in the soft, kind way that brings back a far faded memory, more a feeling, of a warm crackling fire, and someone large and familiar holding him, of feeling safe and full.

“I need the money,�� he responds, and the older man’s eyes go soft and sympathetic.

“Don’t we all, son,” He tells him, patting him on the shoulder, and Wakko half smiles, because kindness is rare like gold and he’s dreaming of diamonds. “Don’t we all.”

Three months in, and he’s gotten the hang of it. Nearly made three hay pennies, because the older man, who asks him to just call him Sir, tells him about the safer tunnels, directs him to the areas least likely to collapse. He takes Wakko under his wing, and if he finds something exemplary, he lets Wakko take the credit for it.

Sir is here because he sends the money back home to his grandkids. His daughter’s husband ran out on them, and she’s getting ill from the stress and work.

“Don’t have much left in this world,” He says, heaving the pickaxe down against stone. He teaches Wakko how to hit it just right, and Wakko copies his movements and wonders if this is what it’s like to have a father who is more than a few years older than you. “But I ain’t losing them.”

“Yeah,” Wakko agrees, thinking of the small shack that is his home, five towns away, with the two people there that are his entire world, that he’s spending his days suffering and working for.

It’s nice, though, to have company. Sir listens to Wakko’s crazy antics, claps when Wakko has the energy to sing him a song during lunch, and says “you remind me of my grandkids” one day, and Wakko doesn’t want to admit how happy that makes him.

Four months in, and Wakko is venturing into an older tunnel, with a bunch of experienced miners. That’s the only reason Sir says that Wakko could come with, because he knows this is Wakko’s last month and a big pay off from a new mine would be really helpful.

They get to work, and an hour or so in the ever familiar, paralyzing rumble from above starts. Only this time, the floor starts to shake, and the ceiling cracks, and rocks start to fall from above as the whole mineshaft collapses. Wakko is jumping out of the way of debris, letting his pickaxe drop as he moves towards somewhere safe, so focused on the different falling pieces and the people running around him he misses the rock falling above him.

“Kid!” He hears Sir shout, and he’s slammed into by denim overalls and flesh and bone and hits the floor. There’s the sound of a crack, and then he feels, hears, sees nothing at all.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Wakko wakes up to the feeling of something on top of him, covered in dust and soot and something wet and sticky. He blinks out the dizziness and realizes the thing on top of him is someone, someone he recognizes.

“Sir?” he says, asks, hopes. Carefully, he crawls out from under the man, and looks around.

The cave is dark, and he hears groans from the other men, but he looks back at Sir, and shakes him. A slab of stone falls to the floor with a loud thud, from Sir’s back, and neck.

Something is dripping from Sir’s mouth. It looks suspiciously like blood, but Wakko won’t think it is, no.

“Sir?” he tries again, and he shakes him harder. The older man drops, limp, laying face first on the ground.

Wakko. Stares.

“Is that the kid?” One of the other men says.

“Sounds like it. The old man must have got on top of him to save him from the rocks.”

“Poor guy,” The first one says. “Hey, kid, c’mere,” Wakko stands, on trembling legs, and walks toward the sound of the voices.

A hand rests on his shoulder, and he flinches, and the hand disappears.

“Hey, it’s just me, kid,” He hears. “The old man told us about you. There’s been a cave in,” As if that wasn’t obvious. “We’re seasoned, so they’ll look for us. They don’t always for the newer guys.”

“Okay,” Wakko says, instead of anything else, because he can feel the wet and sticky on his cheek and it isn’t his blood, and he can’t turn around because if he does he’ll be facing it.

He can’t. He just can’t

A hand leads him to a spot to sit, and Wakko does.

Time slips through his fingertips, and all Wakko can do is wait and breathe.

They consider making a fire, but it would waste their oxygen. The find a miraculously non broken flashlight, and Wakko can finally see. The cave is about half the size it was before it collapsed. There’s a pile of rocks at the entrance, and some of the men take their pickaxes and try to hit it, but it makes the walls shake so they stop. Wakko walks around the room, and stays away from one area.

He misses Sir.

A day passes. He nibbles on the old, near moldy piece of jerky he has, offering it to the other men. They rebuff him.

“You look like skin and bones, kid,” One of the guys says. “This isn’t our first cave in,” Wakko wonders when he became their kid, but he supposes it could be worse.

It’s two days and they’re running out of air. Wakko wheezes in thin, shallow breaths through chapped lips, and tries not to cry because he’s dehydrated enough. He doesn’t want to die. He has Dot and Yakko to go home to, he can’t leave them now.

Eventually, he just starts humming, because the silence hurts and he doesn’t want to think anymore. Isn’t this whole movie supposed to be a musical? Maybe it hasn’t started yet.

“There's always tomorrow,” It comes out wispy and small, like a a breath, but it sounds unbearably loud, in the small space, “For dreams to come true. Believe in your dreams, come what may,” His voice cracks on the final word, and he coughs, but the men are all staring at him, a tiny shrimp of a kid way in over his head, singing because there’s nothing else he can think to do.

“There's always tomorrow,” He mumbles out the words, barely keeping up the tune, because he’s so tired. “With so much to do,”

“And so little time in a day,” One of the men finishes the line with him, and Wakko blinks.

It seems that one joining in spurs on the others, because one by one they’re all singing too.

“We all pretend the rainbow has an end,” Wakko sees some of the miners leaning on each other. A couple of them have broken a bone of some sort, but that’s all forgotten in the ever thinning air, singing because what else is there to do, in times of despair.

“And you’ll be there, my friend, some day,” Wakko’s eyes flick to Sir, the still body looking pale and the blood dried on the ground, and he forces himself not to cry again.

“There’s always tomorrow, for dreams to come true,” Wakko leans his head back against the stone, coughing a little. There’s thudding in his ears, he thinks his heartbeat, growing ever louder.

“Tomorrow is not far away...,” They trail off, and then there’s a crack, from the wall behind him. He jumps, stumbling back from the wall, and he can see light peeking through the rock wall.

Standing was a bad idea. His legs shake, weak, and while he can see the light as he hears men from the other side calling for him there’s darkness at the edges of his vision, and before the the wall breaks he starts to fall and everything goes black to the sound of the men shouting for someone to catch him.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He wakes up at the local hospital. The mine is paying for the stay, so he gets to eat. He’s given 10 hay pennies for his trouble-the three he’d already made were lost in the collapse, but he doesn’t care too much because he lost far more important things there, too-, with the incentive not to take legal action against the mining company. As if he could. He asks around, asks if Sir’s family will be getting anything.

“Likely not,” One of the men from the cave says. “He didn’t have enough tenure for that, and his family lives far enough away and are poor enough that the mine won’t bother.”

“Do you know where he lives?” He asks, and he finds out.

He places 9 hay pennies into the envelope. He is not good at writing, but he knows how to write ‘I’m sorry,’ and ‘he was a good man’, and ‘he protected me’, and the sentences hardly make sense with how his hands shake but that doesn’t matter. He has one of the older men write out the address and sends it off.

It’s not enough, he thinks. But it’s something.

He tries to go back to work for a little more money, but every time he looks into the yawning pit of the entrance to the mines he can’t breathe and he thinks of the sticky and wet and red that stained his fur until he washed it off two days later.

He knows how to get it out of his clothes, too. Now. He knows now.

He didn’t think he would ever need to know, but the past year has been full of learning experiences, he’s sure.

A week and a half later, he walks out of town to that same train, and like the end of a circle heads back to where he started, sitting on that same seat. The taste of jerky as he chews makes him want to vomit, too familiar, too entrenched in memory to be anything other than unpleasant.

He comes home, and when he arrives he sees the smiling faces of his family and town, and they don’t need the depressing tale of cruelty and hardship, so he smiles and dances on aching feet and sings about silly jobs that seem more fun than difficult and shows off his earnings and lets himself feel hope because even if it hurt it was enough, because Dot is going to be happy and healthy.

Later, when he is playing a mournful tune on a makeshift harp, he wonders if there was even a point to trying. If he should have stayed, should have just taken his time with his sister before she was gone, because regardless of everything that happened he’s right where he started. Except, someone is dead and he’s the reason, and his lungs ache and will spend months to get close to normal and he has to pretend because he can’t let Yakko know he lied, and he was beaten and his youth has been stolen and Dot is still dying anyway.

He’s tired of the cyclical, he needs change, and he looks up the stars and searches for something, anything, to make the hurt worth something.

The Wishing Star gives him a reply to his song, like beams of light through the rocks, like hope in the center of a blackhole of despair that refuses to be swallowed whole, and when Wakko makes the homestretch he asks for the people to get what they deserve, what is fair, what is right, and hopes the mother miles away with two kids and no father or grandfather gets something, too.

#animaniacs #wakko's wish #yakko wakko and dot #wakko warner #yakko warner #dot warner #kitkat1003 #Listen its medieval times do you think people were nice to kids #i will pepper in the fact that wakko nearly vaguely remembers their parents #i will create a side character and kill him off because I think it'd funny to be mean #haha

48 notes · View notes

deeeelightfuldee · 3 years

Text

Are you better at cooking dinners or making cakes/biscuits/sweets? baking definitely. I want to get more comfortable cooking.

Have you ever cut someone else’s hair? yes. I used to be pretty good at doing my brothers hair-- even the fading. But I’m sure I’ve forgotten it all by now.

Who was the last guest in your house and what were they staying for? probably my sister or my nephews.

How many long term relationships have you been in? blegh. not many. Whenever I’d know that it didnt have long term potential, id drop it. no sense dragging out the inevitable.

Do you sleep with all the lights out, or do you leave a lamp or even the television on? so for the longest time I kept my room super dark. I slept well. once miller died and kile broke my heart, I couldn’t sleep without the tv playing. I needed to hear something calming and voices talking so I wouldn’t be left with my thoughts. I still can’t turn it off.

Who is one person you have forgiven, but still have not “forgotten” what they have done? i think its easy to say “forgive and forget” but the reality is that once we have endured trauma we don’t easily forget. I think its kind of unrealistic. I’m trying to forgive kile but thats going to take.. i dont know how long. As for what it was... it was just betrayal.. lying. for six+ years. lots of laughing at me.

Are you a fan of Lana Del Rey? I like some of her songs.

Do you know your blood type? o+

Do you know your mother’s birthday? Yes. its coming up.

Have you ever been pregnant? I dont think so. I was really late after my assault but who knows.

How old were you when you first went on a plane? like 7ish

Have you ever had to take out a loan for anything? Yeah, student loans. 15k feels so daunting right now.

Are both of your blood parents still in your life? One is. My mom.

When was the last time you went apple picking? highschool maybe?

Someone asked you what you wanted, what would you say? money.. or a trip.

Have you ever been drunk at school or work? definitely not.

How many bedrooms are in your house? four.

Are you smart about computers? I know some stuff.

Have you ever played Just Dance for Wii? oh heck’n yeah

Do you own a Xbox 360? I had one from my brother for a little while but I traded it for the gamecube since Kile was going to send me one of the 15 he had lol. That didn’t end up happening, but its OK i really dont need more gaming.

Would you ever do a sex tape for a million dollars? oooooooo.. probably not.

So, do you need a nap? all day is full of naps to try and get over this.

What would you rather be doing? school

What sport are you the best at? maybe volleyball or swimming

Do you have a little sister? What’s her name? Nope, im the baby.

Do you complain a lot? no, i try not to. I find complaining to be the most unattractive and yet common human trait and while there are definitely situations worthy of complaining, most of the time it just makes a situation worse than it actually was.

Would you rather go to an authentic haunted house or an ancient temple? temple

Do you like fruity or minty gum? definitely minty

Are you looking forward to any day of this month? i was really looking forward to Kile’s birthday on monday, but since we arent talking anymore then there is no joy in that. all the other special dates have been ruined by covid.

Have you ever gotten detention? Nope. homeschoolers and detention arent a thing.

Is there a traumatic event that you’ve experienced that’s changed your life? oh sure. heartbreak, deaths, assaults, etc.

Do you buy a majority of your clothes from a certain store, or do you just pick out items of clothing you could see yourself wearing, not caring about the store it came from? no, i can’t be super picky because not every store carries clothing long enough for me.

Have any of the artists you’re fond of released new albums recently? i havent got a clue

Would you ever keep your favorite animal as a pet? I mean I’m very fond of cats & dogs

Ever cried so much you threw up? this is what happened the whole 2-3 weeks following finding out about Kile.

Who is your best guy friend? I suppose now that would be Nathan

What do you two do when you hang out? drives, game nights, get food/drinks, or just talk.

What is a movie that you thought you would hate but you ended up loving? Her

Do you even like horror movies? not particularly. I’ll watch them if someone else wants to but its not my preference.

Do you live in the country? i live in the suburbs i suppose.

What is your favorite accent? Some southern and British accents. <same ... i have no idea how I made the font like this.

Have you ever had a boyfriend your parents didn’t like? Not that I can think of.

Do you drink Pepsi or Coke? diet coke

What do you plan to do on your 21st birthday? my family celebrated during the day and then I think nathan took me out on the town

Do you have any person in your family with an addiction to beer? nope.

Do you take a lot of pictures? man. this question is hard. I used to love taking pictures of myself. I had much more self confidence and some of it was because kile LOVED my selfies -- or so he said. and I just had so much fun doing that. Since the heartbreak, I’ve maybe taken 10 selfies. I just don’t have any self confidence in my looks anymore. its so different now. most of my pictures now are of other people or scenery.

What kind of face wash do you use? cerave when I want to. otherwise i use water and a very particular type of fabric.

Does drama always seem to follow you? No, i dont think so.

Does anybody in your family race? like cars? running? no.

Are you closer to your mom or dad? My mom.

How much money did you used to get from the ”tooth fairy?” I think i got it like 2x and it was a dollar.

Do you have a laptop or desktop? Laptop.

Do you like your parents? i love my mom.

Do you secretly like someone? No.

Would you ever date your best male friend? I don’t see any romantic feelings developing between nathan and I

What are you currently listening to? I have gilmore girls on.

Do you want to be single? oooof. Um. I am torn on this subject. On the one hand, i really am ready to be loved, held, protected, cared for, etc. I love the idea of building a life together with someone and us both protecting our unit. I miss supporting, cherishing, loving on someone. Yet on the other hand, im fine being single. I have so much insecurity about myself lately that I dk that anyone else needs to deal with that baggage. Idk

Did you go out or stay in last night? I stayed in. ill be staying in for some time.

Have you pretended to like someone? romantically, no. professionally, yes.

How is your heart lately? Sad. heavy.

Are you wearing socks? not at the moment.

What do people call you? Di, diana, dee, ana, di-nan-na, dine-uh, deenah.

Do you get stressed out easily? no, I really dont

Have you ever been taken to the emergency room in an ambulance? yes

What is wrong with you right now? im sick. im heartbroken.

Do you own something from Hot Topic? not that I know of. if I do, it’d be from like middle school. I never shopped there but people tended to give gifts from there.

Would you rather sleep with someone else or alone? Alone. maybe I havent found the right sort of person to share a bed with.

Do you still talk to the person you last made out with? No.

Have you ever seen your best friend cry? Yes, several times.

Did you get any compliments today? No.

Have you ever gone to a beach? many many many times.

What would you say if someone asked you to get high right now? not my thing. at all.

Do you believe that everything happens for a reason? Yes.

Have you ever done volunteer work just because you wanted to? Yes.

Do you have long nails? they are healthy length. I want to grow them out a bit more.

Do you like the gender you are? Yeah.

Do you generally look nice in photos? Not anymore

Have you ever had a stick insect as a pet? no haha

What colour are your father’s eyes? Blue.

If I handed you a concert ticket right now, who would you want to be the performer? uhhhhm, blue october

Would you ever get into a long distance relationship? maybe not anymore.

What’s your favorite hot beverage? hot chocolate from dunkin

Did you ever play an instrument? If so what? i did. no comment.

Would you rather carve pumpkins or wrap presents? oooooohhhhhhhhh man i love both.

Do you think you’re important? I mean i offer some importance to this world but eh.

What’s the best compliment you’ve ever received? Hmm no idea.

Have you been diagnosed with any mental disorders? no

Have you ever moved to another state or country? If so, how did it feel to be new? No.

Do you know how to properly eat food with chopsticks? Nope.

What was the first thing you ate today? I haven’t eaten since breakfast yesterday

If you could spend the day, doing absolutely anything, with anyone, anywhere, what would it be like? for the longest time it was to spend the day driving aimlessly and getting food and talking about everything and nothing with Kile. now, its just.. idunno. blank.

If I were to ask you how you are doing, and you were only able to answer completely honestly, what would come out? I’m not doing well.

What is the one thing that you have been avoiding that you should do? There’s a few things related to school.

Is there anything that you wish you could take back? not really, no.

What, in your mind, could make you truly happy? this whole covid nonsense going away, heartbreak to soothe, and my miller back.

If you could change one conversation in your life, what would you say differently? Would it have REALLY made any difference? i dont know.

When is the next time you’ll change your hairstyle? Will you color it? I just changed it up so itll be a bit.

Do people normally say you’re a fast typist, or are you rather slow? Fast.

Have you ever been considered the ‘smartest person in school?’ yes. several times.

How many drugs are in your system? lol lots of meds rn to kick this. usually none.

What’s on your schedule for tomorrow? the same as today.

Do you currently have any bite marks/hickeys on your body? No. i dont like the idea of bite marks but hickeys were fun for a time. in not visible areas tho.

Do you call anyone baby? Not anymore.

What’s your current mood? Bleh.

What were you doing before filling out this survey? Watching gilmore girls

How late did you stay up last night? I took PM meds at i wanna say 8? maybe 7? I don’t remember.

When was the last time you cried really hard? its been a few weeks since ive cried about Kile. I’m in the numb stage.

Is your hair longer than your shoulders? hahahahahahah

1 note · View note

bawkrya · 3 years

Text

Ok i’m answering all the questions from that one ask meme bc i was basically sent all of them from discord friends

🌳How does your clan use the landscape of their territory to their benefit. Do they alter it?

To give background on what Phrauge’s territory actually looks like, a LOT of it is actually desert. The sand is a deep red, and despite being a desert, dig a shallow hole and it’ll be filled with a toxic liquid that the scientists in the clan are still trying to figure out. Anura, the main city, kind of sits at the beginning of the desert, but is surrounded by trees in kind of a U shape. Then the Malignant Redwood, a super toxic jungle, sits along the border of Shadow

BUT! The main thing Phrauge has done is found a way to solidify the sand in a dragon-friendly way in order to make homes. A lot of homes are directly connected to the ground, so sloped homes are a common occurrence. It wasn’t until recent years that Phrauge started using balanced concrete pads to start building houses/other buildings. The one HUGE altercation they’ve made above ground was when Bawkrya started expanding their territory into the Redwood, where he built his home

The trees, plants, and animals found at the location his home is in was sent off to mages, scientists, etc. to be studied-- he actually didn’t plan to build a house there until it was offered to him

UNDER Phrauge is a dragon-made cave system for the most part that was expanded into an underground city, and the houses/buildings there share a similar look in that they’re built from the stones and all that. A good portion of the “Higher Mall” is carved into the walls of the cavern.

🏠What are the housing accommodations? Any architectural influences?

There’s housing in basically every part of Phrauge. Due to how old Phrauge is as a Clan, the majority of this housing are tall apartment like buildings where families have lived for several generations. These apartments tend to be PRETTY large as they accommodated Imperials and other large species for the most part

While the majority of the house will be made out of sand/concrete, wooden decor, supports, etc. are implemented throughout it, but like especially for decoration. Bone is also a common decoration, with both wood and bone being carved with smooth and stupid intricate designs.

For the wooden and bone decor like that, for apartments that had several generations in them, some of the decor may tell stories of those who lived there, or list position in the clan, or have a family tree. If the family ever moves from these houses, the decoration is either taken with them or sent to historians in order to preserve them

Also Phrauge really loves some tiling. Tiled floors with wooden walls is pretty common, esp with how customizable it can be. Despite the popularity, there’s not too many dragons in the clan who actually make tile-- so there’s maybe three or four dragons really well known for the tiles they’ve made.

As for influences, there’s a LOT. If you can think of a style, it’s most likely sitting somewhere in Phrauge. the housing described above is moreso the style that belongs to the clan, but since a LOT of dragons are moving in from various flights, housing of different looks tend to drop in all the time

❤️How are hatchlings raised? By the clan? Just the parents? Just one parent? Is there a nursery for eggs? How is that set up if so?

It really depends on the area. In Anura, it’s generally only the parents raising the kids, given how many different dragons run through the major city from different flights, but there are plenty of childcare options for parents who may be in the higher ranks of the clan. There’s mostly daycares, but teens can make a living off of babysitting!

In Gabbro, a smaller city based near the Earth border, it’s more communal based. Less tourists go through that area, so everyone knows just about everyone, and with how much security is in place, parents are generally at ease letting their kids run around doing more simple errands.

As for underground, it’s almost strictly just the parents. While Bawkrya is trying to make it a more safe city, dragons still try to do shady business there, and it’s an overall much more strict setting. Most families don’t live there unless they have to-- for ex; the home has belonged to a family for a long time. Still, for those on the richer side, they mostly keep security in place for that home in favor of buying a new one aboveground.

For members of the clan who are Officials, children are usually taken care of by other officials, or by specifically hired babysitters/tutors. For example if Xentheryn and Akeldama, the two official Blood Mages/Scholars of the clan, were to have children, Bawkrya (leader), Fortinbras & Valencia (Head of Trade/Supreme General), etc. would be some of the few who may keep an eye on the kid(s).

🌧How do they lay their dead to rest? Is it a cemetery? A hall of the dead? An item crafted to remember them by?

Due to the nature of the sand in Phrauge, most if not all are cremated. This is mostly so dragons may keep their family with them, as there really isn’t anywhere to bury someone. On top of that, Imperials used to make up the majority of the clan, so bodies couldn’t be buried even if the family wanted them to be.

Some families may build temple-like concrete buildings in order to store the urns of their deceased. These buildings are generally small, and located near the woods. They’re also able to be moved from where they’re placed if needed-- which is why Bawkrya, with the permission of the families, relocated a lot of these temples to a specific area thats under more security.

These temples are protected by a magic talisman that’s fueled by the living family. So, unless you’re blood related or otherwise bound to the talisman, you won’t be able to go in or move these temples. If a family no longer has a surviving member, it is usually bound to the clans Immortal (TBA Dragon), who will continue fueling it so long as their loyalty lies in Phrauge.

For Dragons of higher rank, with the families permission, their urn may be placed in the Capital Building. Urns in this building are protected by two talismans, one fueled by the family, and the overarching one fueled by the Immortal.

In the temples, important items that belonged to the dragon may be set next to the urn. For ex: Bridal Boas, small weapons, journals, etc. As for items families may keep, since jewelry is super popular in the clan, Rings, Necklaces, and other forms of jewelry are typically worn by the dragons Heir, or whoever they may have left it to. Bawkryas pendants are a well known example-- it’s rumored they belonged to his mother, but they only thing known for sure is that it was passed onto him when he was young.

⚔️How do they get along with beastclans? Is there tension even if they get along well?

Honestly, pretty well. The most trouble Beastclan folk might face in Phrauge is from tourists who aren’t familiar with the laws set in place protecting them against dragons. So, many tend to live in the Gabbro instead of Anura.

Dragons also still have beastclan familiars, like Bawkrya does! Familiars in this sense are treated equally, and are more of a partnership between dragons, whether it’s familial, platonic, or romantic. Familiar is just the universal title most end up using

🍽Any culinary inspirations or specialties?

There’s several Phrauge specific specialties, and every single one is a meat based dish. I don’t have names yet for them, but the most well known is a soup made from bone broth with lots of meat in it. Grouse is the most common choice of meat, with different sorts of seasoning, sauces, etc. depending on the region/who cooks it. Veggies and the like are mixed in too-- but again it’s all dependent on where you have it made

A special kind of beef jerky is super popular too, with magic based ingredients!

But, also, since plenty of dragons move into Anura every day, specialties from other clans or flights gain traction as well. Though-- nature specialties don’t really last long

🔑If your clan is land locked or lacks bodies of water how do you feed pescatarians? If its dry or frozen how do they feed herbivores? Does this area limit what dragons have joined your clan due to unstable dietary supplies?

A LOT of food is imported! Like a lot. Phrauge does a lot of trading among other clans/flights, so there’s rarely ever a shortage, especially since Bawkrya and Fortinbras have teamed up on trade. So, dragons aren’t really limited.

🎀Does certain clothing mean anything in your clan? Colors or items signal a rank or status like marriage, warrior, healer?

Bridal Boas are a super common, Phrauge specific thing. It’s something all partners in marriage wear, and something they make for each other. Bridal Boas are made from fur, decorative metals, and jewels. They don’t specifically have to be boas, just made out of fur! As for colors, white is the most common, but Reds, Dark Greens, and Dark Purples are other colors associated with marriage.

For Mages, they tend to wear metal masks with heavily jewelry. Xentheryn and Akeldama have the most prominent masks as they’re the Official mages, but all Mage related masks are decorated depending on what they specialize in. For those two specifically, being Blood mages, Red jewels, copper metal, etc. is used for their masks with more flowy designs

Bawkrya has a specific uniform he has to wear when doing Clan Ceremonies. The majority of this uniform is made from bone-- with the bones being from past enemies that Phrauge has defeated. The fabric used is from specific beasts too, all which past Leaders have killed themselves. Also, passed down jewelry and the like.

⭐️Is your clan healing magic based? Apothecary based? Surgical? A strange combination?

It’s more of a combination, with how many dragons there are. And, it really depends on the injury or illness a dragon may have. But, the most popular form is magic based, with most if not all mages in the clan basing their studies in healing.

✏️What are real world influences that have been implemented into your clan’s design or culture?

For fashion, a lot is inspired by the 1930s fashion from various countries! For a specific source, the fashion in Winter Begonia is a huge influence. I just tend to make the clothing sluttier LMFAO

so just really nice and layered tuxes and semi form fitting dresses. but in Phrauge theres boob windows somehow implemented. + STUPID heavy jewelry + LOTS of fur and potentially bones

#this is so much #Phrauge Lore

1 note · View note

gaamagirl565 · 4 years

Text

Matters of the heart S2 ep 14

Matters of the heart Season 2 Episode 14 Family never forgets

{OPENING CREDITS} {open to night in the dark kingdom; Isaiah shuffles around the alleyway packing items into a sack; Gaia gets up and walks over to him and tries to lick him and mess with the bag} Isaiah: AUGH! Gaia nooo! Shh! Let go you’re gonna- Benny: ‘saiah? {both turn around and look at a sleepy benny rubbing her eyes} Isaiah: Now look what you did. {he snatches the bag back} Benny: what are you doing? The moons still out...i’m sleepy.. Isaiah: Sorry I woke you. but I'm packing. we need to get on the road as soon as we can if we're going to make good time. {She gets up from her place on the ground and stretches then when she looks at Isaiah she cringes} Isaiah: What? Benny: you look dead. Isaiah: gee thanks… Benny: no I'm serious! you look pale and you got dark circles under your eyes did you even sleep? Isaiah: of course I slept! Benny: then you're not very good at it! Isaiah: I didn't realize sleeping was a skill set. anyway, now that you're up and we're all packed we might as well get moving. we could probably make some good distance from the dark Kingdom by sun up. Benny: do we have to? can we actually wait for sun up? Isaiah: sorry Benny but we have to get going my family is probably really worried about me if they don't already think I'm dead. Benny: they probably do think you're dead. I mean just considering you. Isaiah: aren't you just a ray of sunshine in the mornings? Benny: Well come on if we really are leaving... we can probably stop by the forest and fill up our goatskins in the river. Isaiah: good idea… {Benny stops and looks back at the town before fully exiting the alleyway} Isaiah: you okay? {Benny clutches her necklace} Benny: yeah! let's go! { Benny runs off towards the gate with Gaia; Isaiah shakes his head and smirks before coughing into his hand; when he pulls his hand away it has droplets of a black liquid that is now dripping from his mouth; he also looks startled at the condition of his fingers which have now turned a blackish purple with long black nails growing out of them} Benny: ‘Saiah!! Come onnn!! { Isaiah wipes the black liquid from his mouth and runs off towards her; cut to Zapada sitting in the kitchen sewing something with a cup of tea next to her; Noremoth walks into the room} Noremoth: ahem… {Zapada looks up and looks uncomfortable before going back to her sewing} Noremoth: Oh come on! you can't just pretend that you didn't see me! Zapada: if you had eyes you would notice that I had acknowledged you I just choose not to speak to you. Noremoth: you and about every other woman here… Zapada: hmph! Noremoth: Do you know where Varian went? Zapada: you mean Varian my husband? of course I know where he went he went to the fields. even with everything going on there is still a village to run. Noremoth: ... hey ummm.. your... you're a female right? Zapada:... if I wasn't I'd be concerned as to why I'm pregnant… Noremoth: sorry dumb question. Anyway, how can I get a woman to speak to me if they're angry I've never really dealt with any of this. Zapada: let me guess you're used to using your charm in a problem that involves a woman yes? Noremoth: kind of, yeah. I just want to talk to Catalina but I can't even get her to look at me. Zapada: you're completely hopeless. she wants you to recognize what you did was wrong. if you start with that she should be able to listen. Noremoth: everyone keeps saying this was my fault I wasn't even near Isaiah when he died! Zapada: it doesn't matter if you were near him what matters is you were part of the group that caused it! Poor Catalina probably feels hurt and used! she doesn't just want you to say sorry she wants you to show that you're sorry! Noremoth: how do I do that!? is not just saying it enough? Zapada: how you do it is up to you but- Augh! {Zapada clutches her stomach} Noremoth:...uhhhh...Should I go get someone? you okay? that thing isn’t going to go pop goes the weasel on me right now is it? Zapada:..shut...up… {Noremoth stares at her for a moment before she relaxes} Zapada: phew...Well that was...something... stop looking at me like that I'm perfectly fine. Noremoth: Y- you're sure? seriously I could go get someone. Zapada: I said I am fine... why don't you looking for my husband. Noremoth: R-right...umm.. thanks... for everything... I think. {He turns to leave and zapada rolls her eyes; cut to isaiah walking on the side of the road holding the map; he looks disturbed by the sunlight and tries to shield himself} Isaiah: Is it hot to you? Benny: nope! actually it's kind of nice today. Isaiah: of course it is… Benny: seriously you okay? Isaiah: I'm fine really… Benny: you don't look okay... you still look pale. actually you look like you're about to fall over and die. Isaiah: aren't you blunt.. {Peering off to the side we see Vergus and two cult members hiding in the brush with their wagon} Cult member 1: honestly why did we steal all this stuff if you're only going to hide in the brush every 5 minutes on the road? Cult member 2: she's right you know we do have enough money to buy stuff… we don't exactly have to steal. Vergus: honestly where's the fun in that? think of it as a tax for all that Society has done to us. also that's not the reason we're hiding. Cult member 2: then why are we hiding, Vergus!? Vergus: Shut it! Look! {He points over to Benny and Isaiah walking by} Cult member 1: it's just some kids… should we know something about them? Vergus: I wouldn't believe it if I wasn't seeing it right now...that's the child that holds some of the vessel's power. Cult member 2: what? well let's get him then? honestly, what are we waiting for!? Vergus: patience! we're on a busy road. people are constantly riding past. if we just run up and grab two children on a busy road people will see us as nothing more than kidnappers. Cult member 2: Fair point.. but then what are we supposed to do we can't just let them go and I thought Larkspur said this kid was dead! Vergus: To be honest we thought he was... the kid fell off the side of a cliff. but that doesn't matter now look at the state of him. the magic is finally overthrowing his system he won't be able to hold out much longer. even if he collapses during the day would be too dangerous to grab them in daylight. will wait till the cover of darkness. I'm sure Larkspur will be quite pleased. {They slink back into the brush; cut to an ax coming down on a log; pan over to Varian cutting wood and Noremoth walking over} Noremoth: There you are! Varian: what? Noremoth: I've been looking all over for you and-... what are you doing? Varian: chopping wood, what are you doing? Noremoth: no need to be hostile. I'm just confused. Varian: honestly how can you be confused by the concept of chopping wood!? Noremoth: well... because you're doing it. Varian:... I feel like I should take that as an insult but I am not sure… Noremoth: does everyone here take everything as an insult!? Cat: no just when it comes from you. {Noremoth screams girlishly and jumps back around} Noremoth:...DON’T DO THAT! Kiera: sorry not sorry… {they fist bump} Noremoth:.. as I was saying. the reason I'm confused is Varian is the leader why is he working as well shouldn't he just be supervising his followers? {They all stare at him puzzled} Noremoth: what? Cat: you're not serious... are you? Varian: that's not really how being the leader of the village works. Kiera: I don't normally get into this but even I know that's not how being a leader works. Cat: everyone pulls their weight. being a leader doesn't mean you get some sort of free pass from doing work. Varian: look… {Varian points out all the villagers doing their Fair Share of work} Varian: we all work together to survive. For example, the baker provides food s, Carpenters repair homes and build new ones, and the Millers provide flour and lumber for them, We all work together. Cat: its a cycle… {Cat and Noremoth share eye contact before she turns away} Varian: I'm doing my part. I'm helping supply wood for the village this is my job for now. Noremoth: for now? Varian: I still have to oversee Crop Production and make sure that the borders are safe. then I have to write a letter of my findings On the Border to the king. Noremoth: you do all of this for your village? Varian: everyone pulls their weight. Noremoth: what if... what if someone gets hurt? or sick? Varian: then we find someone to take their job for them. Noremoth: oh... so they're done away with. Varian: WHAT!? Kiera: what the hell… Noremoth: you just said that there were placed! Varian: until they're better! we don't just do away with them! we have a physician that nurses them back to health! we don't just leave a person behind because they get hurt or sick! Cat: is that what your people do? Noremoth:... yes… {They all look mildly shocked} Noremoth: minor injuries are no problem, the same with minor illnesses as well. as long as you're able to get on your feet you're fine. but if you're seriously hurt or ill... Larkspur orders us to… {catalina walks away with her hands up} Noremoth: Cat! wait I-! Varian: Let Her Go... that's pretty messed up to hear. Noremoth: …. as much as I still believe in our cause... perhaps it's time to accept that we're going about it the wrong way. {Varian drops his ax} Varian: what are you saying? Noremoth: our cause was to bring about a new form of society for those trampled by it. you already know that. at first I thought it was the right thing to do. but lately things have been changing. as time goes on we care less and less about the people who join us. we don't care who we hurt. what we have to do. Varian: let me guess, your great leader doesn't agree with your view of things? Noremoth: not even in the slightest. it's going to be the death of us. Varian: your idea is a good one. build a community in which you all work together and which those were down on their luck come to you to join a community of people who are just like them. but like you said the way you're going about it is incredibly wrong. A new Zhan tiri won’t help. it won't bring about a new Authority. it'll make things ten times worse. Noremoth: I think you're right... I hate to admit that and those words feel like they're burning my mouth. but I definitely think you're right. Larkspur has to be stopped. Varian: And Corona can help you stop her... we weren't there for you then let us be there for you now. {Varian unrolls a map onto a stump and hands Noremoth a quill} Varian: but you need to help me in return. {Noremoth looks seriously at him before taking the quill; cut to Varian slamming open the door to the house and running in and past a clearly distressed Zapada} Zapada: I-Iubirea mea? {Cat and Keira walk in with noremoth} Varian: not now Zapada...I have to write a message to the king… Keira: um, V? Varian: I finally have The Hideout that the cult is currently staying at! I need to write a letter to the king saying that I'm heading out immediately. Zapada: CE!? Catalina: Say what now!? Noremoth: this is not what I agreed to! Varian: you finally gave me their location I can't turn this opportunity down now! I'm going to send the letter to the king and he'll have reinforcements right behind me is I'm heading up there. {Zapada whilst clutching her stomach grabs his arm} Zapada: have you gone mad!? you've seen what they can do with a group of their own! you're only one man! they're dealing with one bee and then there's dealing with the whole hive! {Varian yanks his arm away} Varian: you don't understand what they've done to me! to my family! Zapada: AM I NOT ALSO YOUR FAMILY!? Varian: YOU KNOW YOU ARE! Zapada: Yet recently you treat me as if i’m not! Varian: YOU KNOW I CARE FOR YOU! Zapada: it would not kill you to show it! Varian: I’M DOING THIS FOR YOU! Zapada: no! you're doing this because you're filled with hatred! Varian: YOU KNOW WHAT!? I am filled with hatred! I am so filled with hatred for these people you don't even understand! they killed my father, my wife, and my son! there is no way in this world or the next someone like you could ever understand! Zapada: C-Couldn’t I!? Varian: No not in a million years! Zapada: AUGH! {Zapada grabs her stomach and doubles over; Cat and Kiera run over to her; Varian’s look of anger is replaced with shock} Varian: Z-Zapada? Zapada: ...it will cease in a few moments… Catalina: Zapada... have you been dealing with this all day? Zapada: Y-yes…and they get stronger... Catalina: Zapada...I-I think your in labour! {Zapada screams yet again and grips Keira’s arm} Keira: ow Ow OW! Noremoth: w-what do we do!? Catalina: uhh..umm… {Keira smacks Varian} Keira: HEY! Varian! Wife having baby here! Varian: R-right..sorry! Catalina: Come on! Lets get her to a bed! Noremoth: wait I want to help! What can I do!? Zapada: AUUGH! Catalina: Varian, take her up to your room! {Varian picks her up and carries her upstairs with Keira in tow} Catalina: Noremoth, we need towels! And hot water! Also, get some string and something sharp! {Noremoth salutes} Noremoth: Got it! {Cat runs up the stairs and to the room; when she opens the door, Zapada is laying on the bed with Varian holding her hand} Varian: i-it’s gonna be okay! I promise! Zapada: Ngghh!! I’m having trouble believing that! {Noremoth runs in with hot water and other supplies} Noremoth: I got it! Catalina: Thanks, now out! Noremoth: R-right sorry! {He runs out and Varian goes to follow him; Zapada grabs onto his arm} Varian: huh!? Zapada: Please no...i’m still...angry at you...but I’m frightened..please… {Varian hesitates for a moment before propping her up and sitting behind her, letting her rest against him} Catalina: Varian!? Varian: i’m not leaving! Look at her, she’s terrified. Catalina: but- Varian: I’m not asking permission. Catalina:...fine… Varian: it’s gonna be okay… I’m not going anywhere. {Zapada weakly smiles but it quickly fades and she screams again; cut to the countryside; Isaiah slowly tags along behind Benny} Benny: you okay ‘saiah? {Isaiah doesn’t answer; his vision looks blurry; suddenly The whites of his eyes turned pink and his irises turn a bright neon green; he collapses} Benny: ‘SAIAH! {She runs over to him} Isaiah: *in a deep evil voice* DON’T TOUCH ME! {she jumps back; he struggles to get up but only collapses and pants exhausted} Isaiah: grr...my body is weak… {more black liquid pours from his mouth; his eyes flicker in colour and his body twitches; he groans in pain; cult members watch from the thick brush; eventually, he passes out} Benny: Isaiah!? {she whimpers and checks his breathing then sighs in relief; she slowly drags him off the road and into the soft grass; she goes into their bag and takes out a small soup pot and starts setting up a fire; she then looks over at the forest} Benny: I'll be back... that’s a promise. {she walks into the forest and starts looking around; she looks over and sees a small stream; A turtle sits on by it; Benny picks up a rock} Benny:...sorry mister turtle… {She throws the rock; cut to Zapada letting out a scream of pain} Catalina: You’re almost there, Zapada! Varian: i-is she okay? Catalina: she’s fine Varian. This isn’t exactly a pleasant feeling. Keira: I can attest to that from what i’m seeing… {Zapada shouts and Noremoth flinches outside the room} Catalina: You’re almost done! Just one more time! I swear! {Varian wipes her forehead and kisses her temple before giving her a reassuring smile; Zapada’s lip quivers and she tightly shuts her eyes as she yells out one last time before flumping back against Varian’s chest; a cry fills the room} Catalina: YOU DID IT! You did it Zapada! It’s a boy! {she holds up the black-haired infant and Zapada lets out a half cry half chuckle; Varian smiles and laughs with her; Catalina wraps the baby and hands him over to them} Zapada: ei, bine ai venit, baietelul meu.. {Varian tears up and caresses his son’s face; Cat pulls Keira out of the room} Varian: he’s perfect… Zapada: he has your hair… Varian: and your nose. What a day...Zapada? Zapada: hmm? Varian: I’m sorry...i’m so sorry for..everything… {she kisses him} Zapada: I have already forgiven you. let us not focus on that…look at this beautiful boy that we've just brought into the world. what should we call you? Varian: oh man you're right we never really did decide on a name. Zapada: think I might have an idea... Sterling. Varian: Sterling? like sterling sil-... it's perfect… {Cut to Cat washing her hands downstairs; Noremoth walks in the room} Noremoth: ... nice work today. Cat: thanks… Noremoth: no really... none of us had any idea what to do. you took the helm and you steered us out of the storm. {Cat turns to walk away but Noremoth grabs her hand} Noremoth: Catalina I am trying. I know you hate me for what I did. you have every right to be angry with me. please realize that I am trying. damn it, I'm not going to stop trying. I know what I did was bad. and maybe I don't deserve it but all I'm asking is that you give me the chance to prove myself. Catalina:... fine... maybe I am being a bit unfair. but you can't really blame me. I thought you were my friend. I trusted you. even if you weren't the direct cause of it, somebody died because I trusted you! I should have warned the king that you were there. Noremoth: I never meant for him to die. it was never the plan. I thought I was doing what was right. I truly did. I'm going to be honest right now. I really do like you and the last thing on earth I wanted to do was hurt you. I'm just hoping that even if you are still mad at me can we start over? or is it too late for me to apologize to you? {Catalina looks over at him} Catalina: you know this might just be the adrenaline of me having just delivered a baby talking... but alright... but I want you to know it's going to be a long time before I can ever trust you. but I'll give you the chance to prove yourself in the time being. Noremoth: that's all I'm asking. {he pulls her into a hug; she hesitantly hugs back; cut to Benny stirring a pot of stew} Benny: I got everything from the forest! I'm sure you're going to love it! everyone loves Turtles stew!... I think... never really cooked before. {isaiah groans and rolls over to face her} Isaiah: I'm sure it will be great..sorry... crappy time to decide to get sick huh? Benny: yep pretty much… Isaiah: umm... Benny? what is even in that?

Benny: ummm.. a turtle... some tubers that I found... Wild Onion... also a bit of wild garlic. Isaiah:...better than nothing. {Benny continues stirring the pot but then looks up and gasps} Benny: ‘Saiah!!! {Isaiah turns around to Vergus grabbing him and the screen goes black} {END CREDITS}

#tangled #rapunzel’s tangled adventure #matters of the heart #tangled the series #fanfic #catalina and keira #Varian #zapada #varian x oc #MotH #Noremoth #TTS #RTA #tts oc #rta oc #Isaiah

8 notes · View notes

unfolded73 · 4 years

Text

Partners (1/1) - schitt’s creek ff

The third of a series of snapshot fics centered around stages in David and Patrick’s relationship and the way they label it. Set some time between 5x06: Rock On and 5x08: The Hospies. (ao3)

Rated Explicit, 3267 words. Previous fic in this series: Boyfriends; “I Love You”

__________________________________

Partner, n. a person with whom one shares an intimate relationship; one member of a couple

“Stevie, no,” David said as she put a big bottle of discount shampoo into her grocery cart. “We sell shampoo at the store.”

“And are you going to give me some for free? Because I can’t afford the shampoo at your store.”

He wasn’t going to give it to her for free. She got enough free wine from them as it was.

They rounded the end of the aisle and moved onto the next one, where Stevie threw a box of tampons into her cart. “No comments.”

“Why would I comment? It’s a normal part of being a vagina-having human.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean that. I just figured you’d have an opinion on what brand I was buying.”

David sniffed. “It would seem you’ve found the limit to my wealth of opinions.”

Stevie had moved on to the condoms, and she pulled two boxes off the little hook, throwing one in her cart and one in David’s.

“Oh,” he said. “I don’t—”

“Don’t tell me those aren’t your brand; I’ve seen you buy them plenty of times.”

“No, it’s not that.” He carefully put the box back. “I just don’t need any.”

Stevie shot him a pitying look. “Patrick’s not putting out anymore?”

“No!” he said indignantly as he continued pushing his cart down the aisle. “We’re just not, um, using… condoms. Anymore.”

Stevie stopped and stared at him. “That’s a big deal.”

“It’s not that big a deal,” David said, concentrating on his cart. “I have to go back; I forgot Patrick’s cereal.”

“So you’re saying it’s not a big deal that you’re here, buying groceries for the boyfriend with whom you’ve practically moved in and with whom you’re no longer using condoms.”

“I haven’t moved in, I just happen to know he’s out of cereal,” David said, trying not to smile.

“Because you’re exclusive,” she continued, bumping his shoulder. “Monogamous.”

“We aren’t seeing other people because we’re in a committed relationship.” David replayed Patrick saying those words in his mind a lot. Committed relationship. “And he says he has no interest in seeing other people, so.”

“Yeah, I heard about Ken,” Stevie said.

“Who told you about that?” David said, wincing.

“I got the full rundown from Alexis and from Patrick.”

David huffed. “So given that, and that we got tested ages ago, we decided to forego the condoms from now on.” He didn’t tell her the other thing that Patrick had asked him to promise: that if anything ever did happen with someone else, for either of them, the important thing was that they be honest with each other about it. Patrick said he could forgive infidelity, but he wouldn’t be able to forgive his health being put at risk in the interest of keeping a secret. It was an incredibly mature position to take, and David was still trying to wrap his head around the implications of it: that Patrick thought their relationship was solid enough to withstand something that serious. David had always thought of romantic relationships as something ephemeral that could be blown away by the prevailing winds. Not something stable, with thick stanchions sunk deep into the earth.

“That means you also have no interest in seeing other people,” Stevie said.

“Why would I want to see other people? I had a lifetime of seeing other people, and it didn’t hold a candle to…” He blinked. He was getting way over-emotional for the frozen food aisle, where Stevie was currently putting a couple of frozen pizzas into her cart. “Get one of the pepperoni and sausage,” he told her.

“These are for me. Get your own.” She shot him a smirk. “Didn’t hold a candle to what?”

“To being with someone who knows me,” David said quickly.

“Hmm.” Stevie led David over to the cereal aisle so that he could get Patrick’s breakfast cereal. “And you realize that he probably feels the same way, right? Which is why he doesn’t care about experiencing other guys at this point either.”

“Yes, I realize that now,” David said, meeting her eyes.

“Good.” Stevie nodded, but then her face contorted into a grimace. “God, David, you’re so happy. It’s disgusting.”

~~~

David found himself surprised by his own confidence in their relationship when he noticed Patrick checking out a hot guy in bike shorts who stopped by the store. Rather than a stab of jealousy, he just felt a sort of warmth about it, that after so many years of not knowing himself and even after the Ken debacle, Patrick was allowing himself to openly admire another man. So when the guy left with a bottle of juice and was back on his bike outside, David grinned and commented, “This town has a criminal shortage of asses that perfect.”

And rather than looking guilty, Patrick laughed. “Oh my god, right?”

“Aside from yours, of course.”

Patrick snorted. “Sure,” he said, and once again David had to restrain himself from delivering his well-researched, thoroughly-sourced lecture on the perfection of Patrick’s ass to the man himself.

“Maybe we should carry more items geared to cyclists. Reusable water bottles, energy bars, that kind of thing,” David mused.

Patrick looked impressed. “That’s actually a great idea, even if it is rooted in your desire to check out guys’ asses.”

“Not just guys. I like the asses of all genders.”

“Okay, fine. But my point is, Elmdale has a long-distance cycling club. We could do some good business with them if they’re motivated to stop in town while they’re out riding on summer weekends.”

They spent the rest of the afternoon putting together a plan for sourcing fitness-related products, with frequent interruptions to help customers or for shameless innuendo between the two of them, and all of it was fun. Working with Patrick was fun. Flirting with Patrick was fun. Just being in Patrick’s presence was fun, and the fact that they’d been dating for over a year hadn’t made any of it any less fun.

Of course, none of that meant David didn’t still have a possessive streak, and the next time the hot cyclist stopped in the store, David might’ve made a point of dragging his fingers along Patrick’s back where the guy could see.

“You might be interested in these new artisanal protein bars we’re testing,” Patrick told the cyclist, giving David a pointed look like he knew what he was doing.

“Are they good?” Hot cyclist asked.

“I make a point of not eating things with that much granola in them, but my partner assures me they are,” David said, winking at Patrick.

They sold him four bars.

~~~

The thing was, the word ‘partner’ had always been a regular part of their vocabulary since they owned a business together, so when it started to slip out of David’s mouth in contexts that had less and less to do with the business, at first he didn’t realize the import of it. It was Alexis who had to point it out to him one evening when he was hanging out at the motel while Patrick was at the Wobbly Elm with his baseball team.

“You’ve started calling Patrick your partner,” she said.

David squinted up at her from his journal. “What? He’s my business partner.”

“Yeah, but that’s not what you mean by it now. You mean partner. You know. Partner.”

He opened his mouth to protest, and then closed it just as quickly with a click.

“Like you guys are in it for the long haul.”

“Maybe we are,” David said, and oh fuck. Maybe they were.

“Are you going to propose?” she asked.

“What?” His mind whited out at even the suggestion of them… would Patrick want that? To marry him?

“You did always want to get married, David.”

“When I was young and naive and didn’t know that most people are terrible, fickle users.” But he thought about the wedding scrapbook from his childhood that he’d crammed into a suitcase on impulse when they’d been forcibly ejected from their house, the one that was now hidden under the knitwear in his cedar chest.

Alexis huffed, closing her magazine. “Yeah, but Patrick’s not. Patrick’s a sweetie and for some reason he loves you. You might want to lock that down.”

“Patrick’s been engaged before and he had an existential crisis about it,” David said.

“Patrick is gay and was engaged to a woman, so I don’t think that’s relevant.”

“Well, in any case, it’s too soon to… it’s too soon.”

Alexis shrugged.

“What would you do if Ted proposed again?” David asked.

“I’m pretty sure I ruined any chance of that happening. But who knows? Maybe I’ll propose to him someday. No reason I couldn’t ask him to marry me if I wanted to,” Alexis said, picking up her magazine and pretending to be interested in it.

“No,” David said faintly, not thinking about Alexis and Ted at all. “No reason at all.”

David’s conversation with Alexis about his and Patrick’s future was still on his mind at work the next day, which made Patrick’s grumpy mood particularly ill-timed.

“What is up with you?” David asked when Patrick thumped some of their precious merchandise down on a shelf a little too aggressively for the third time.

“I’ve been too busy to go grocery shopping and I was out of milk this morning,” he grumbled.

David winced, because he was pretty sure he’d used up a lot of that milk himself.

“And the stupid dryer in my apartment building ruined another one of my shirts,” Patrick continued.

“Well, is that really such a great loss?” David asked.

Patrick shot him a baleful look. “Really?”

“Sorry, sorry.”

Patrick waved it away and started heading into the back, then just as quickly swung back around. “Did you call the other contractors on the list about giving us a quote on the bathroom reno?”

“Ronnie’s quote is fine. I told you we don’t need—”

“David.” Patrick’s hands went to his hips.

“She’s our friend.” Which wasn’t exactly true — for some reason Ronnie’d never been more than politely skeptical of Patrick. But she was David’s friend.

“And conveniently, if we go with Ronnie you don’t have to call anyone else.”

“Excuse me, maybe I want to support another small business in town,” David said. “If it’s so important, why don’t you call the other contractors?”

“Because I’ve got a million other things to do!” Patrick shouted, his hands flung up in annoyance. “But whatever, do what you want.” And he stalked into the back.

Patrick stayed hidden away throughout the rest of the morning while David helped customers, his stomach in a knot and the press of tears behind his eyes. He hated when they fought. Fortunately it didn’t happen often, but David wallowed internally while he sold people jars of honey and hand-knitted sweaters and body milk.

He finally stuck his head in the back at a quarter past noon. “Do you want a sandwich from the café?”

“Yeah,” Patrick said, not looking up from the filing drawer he was searching through. “Thanks.”

When David returned, he walked carefully over to Patrick’s desk and set the styrofoam container down in front of him. “I told Twyla that you were angry with me, and she gave you an extra pickle.”

Patrick looked up, his eyes sorrowful. “I’m not angry with you. I’m sorry I shouted. I was having a bad morning and I took it out on you.”

David sat across from him, opening his own lunch container. “But I didn’t call those contractors.”

Sighing, Patrick took a bite of one of his pickle spears. “No, you were right. We should cultivate loyal relationships with other business owners in town. Especially since Ronnie’s on council.”

“Okay.”

They ate in silence for a couple of minutes.

“The store is doing particularly well this month,” Patrick commented, sandwich in one hand while the other still scrolled on his scratchpad. A crumb dropped from Patrick’s sandwich onto his computer keyboard, making David wince.

“Yeah?”

“Mm hmm. Between the new product lines and your summer series of events, we’ve raked in record profits.”

David drummed his fingers on the desk. “So will you pay that out to us as a bonus, or…?”

Patrick arched an eyebrow. “No, I was thinking I’d use it to chip away at the list of things we wanted to do to improve the store. The bricks need repointing, and you wanted that wine fridge—”

“Or we could take a trip,” David said.

“A trip?”

“Yeah, a trip. A vacation. You and me, a beach, rum-based drinks, and minimal clothing.” He shimmied his shoulders a little, although the effect was somewhat lost since he was sitting down.

“That’s a lovely thought, David, but it would be a mistake to shut down the store to go on vacation when things are just starting to go so well. We should at least wait until we can afford an employee or two to cover for us while we’re out of town. And I think we might be a year away from that, based on my projections.” Patrick’s eyes were still focused on his spreadsheet.

“So in a year…”

Patrick finally looked at him and smiled. “In a year or two, we should take a trip.”

And sure, it hadn’t been that long ago that David had used the phrase ‘five years down the road’ in reference to their relationship, but he still felt dizzy at Patrick so blithely making plans with him so far in the future.

“You’ll definitely have broken up with me in a year or two,” David demurred, a joke that wasn’t really a joke.

Patrick eyed him for a few seconds, and then stood up and came around from behind the desk. “Oh, I think the promise of rum-based drinks and minimal clothing will be enough to keep me around.” He reached out a hand and when David took it, Patrick pulled him to his feet. “We can start planning it, if you want. If the planning is something you’d enjoy.”

“I suppose that’s something I’d enjoy,” David said into Patrick’s mouth just before they kissed. It was slow and sweet, and David tried to ignore the fact that Patrick tasted like pickles.

“Why don’t you take the afternoon off?” David asked when their lips parted, his fingers kneading Patrick’s shoulders. “It’s been a while since you’ve taken some time off to relax.”

“I took an extra day off last week,” Patrick said.

“Yeah, and I came back to your apartment to find you working on the quarterly taxes at home. I mean, actually relax. Watch some porn. Read a book — and not a finance book! Read that baseball book you keep falling asleep on. I’ll take care of things here.”

Patrick raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”

“Mm hmm.” David kissed him again. “I insist.”

“Will you come over after?” Patrick asked, his hand squeezing David’s hip.

“Yeah.”

David floated through the afternoon on a happy cloud; he was even polite to Roland when he came into the store. It was equal parts relief that the small fight with Patrick hadn’t been that big a deal, and the smug satisfaction of having done something nice for his partner. At the end of the day, he didn’t even mind doing the tasks that he hated, like the bookkeeping.

When David slid his key into the lock of Patrick’s apartment and opened the door, the sparkling candlelight and the smell of something delicious cooking hit him simultaneously. Soft music was coming from the record player.

“I told you to relax,” David said, unable to keep his smile at the romantic tableau off his face. “Not slave away over dinner.”

“I did relax. And then by four o’clock I was bored and I decided to do this,” Patrick said as he poured red wine into two glasses, then he noticed what David was holding. “You got milk.”

“You said you were out.” David handed the jug to Patrick, who took it and put it away, a smile on his face.

David sipped his wine. “What did you do this afternoon?”

“Pretty much what you suggested,” Patrick said, pulling a roasted chicken and potatoes out of the oven. “Jerked off, took a nap, replaced that broken string on my guitar, flipped through the Netflix menu without watching anything, and then read my book for a while.”

“Sounds like a good afternoon,” David murmured, his brain stuck on picturing the first thing.

“It did improve my day enormously,” Patrick said as he put food into plates, “so thank you.”

“Any time. Well, not any time. The store is dull without you.”

They ate and drank and talked, and David thought again about what Alexis had said: that they were in it for the long haul. God, he was really starting to believe that was true.

Later, when they’d found their way into bed, Patrick’s hands were confident on his body, competent in the way he was when he operated a corkscrew or plucked his guitar. David felt a lazy kind of pleasure brimming over as Patrick touched him, a gentle thing that bubbled up as they moved together. They traded off using their mouths on each other’s cocks, slowly and without any need to race to the finish, just bringing each other pleasure for the enjoyment of the act itself, for the way it made the other man moan and gasp. The build was achingly slow until it wasn’t, until Patrick turned over onto his elbows and knees in obvious invitation.

David dragged out the process of preparing Patrick with his fingers until Patrick’s fists were clenched on his pillow, his voice ragged as he begged to be fucked. And then David kept at it a little longer still.

When he finally sank inside, Patrick was so keyed up that David worried he’d pushed things too far, that their orgasms would be too mistimed for them both to enjoy this as much as he wanted them to. But Patrick quieted as David fucked him, going to whatever place inside his head he went to stave off coming too soon. Then it was all long, slow strokes and David pressed against Patrick’s back, the sweat slick between them. God, it was a crime how good it felt.

“Harder,” Patrick finally said, finally giving in and stroking himself. “Please, harder.”

“I love you like this,” David groaned, his hips snapping forward with more force. “I’ll always want this with you. Always.”

Patrick had gone nonverbal, rocking back on his knees in time with David’s thrusts, and then he came and David could feel it, the pulses of it clenching around his cock, and he fell over the edge right after Patrick, his teeth against Patrick’s spine.

“Fuck, that was good,” Patrick slurred, collapsing onto his stomach once David had pulled out. They took turns cleaning up in the bathroom, a well-worn routine including comfortable pajamas and glasses of water before getting back into bed.

“This turned out to be a pretty good day,” Patrick said.

“We could go to Elmdale on Monday and I can help you pick out some new shirts,” David murmured, remembering Patrick’s morning frustration.

“You just want a mall pretzel,” Patrick answered, but then he leaned over and kissed David’s cheek. “Yeah, let’s do that.”

It was only minutes before Patrick was softly snoring next to him. David was wide awake though, lying still and watching him sleep, imagining what their future together might be.

#schitt's creek fic #schitt's creek ff #david x patrick fic #david x patrick ff #my fic

27 notes · View notes

twoidiotwriters1 · 4 years

Text

Written In The Stars XXIII (Harry Potter xFem!Oc)

A/N: I already finished this book as well and I’m currently writing book three, I’ve never been this professional in my fucking life- Sidenote, I should be doing my school work but I can’t even bother

P.S. If there are any mistakes or something I apologize, I sort of edited this like a month ago but never proofread cause I’m a lazy bastard

Words: 3,207

Warnings: The most glorious fight scene of the whole book

Series’ Masterlist

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Chapter Five: Gilderoy Lockhart.

She noticed Harry's condition improving after a week.

He gained weight and slept better because of it, Mrs. Weasley would fix his items of clothing that were a bit too big or sort of messed up and would give them back on his size and no longer ripped.

She could tell he wasn't used to positive attention, let alone coming from two adults that actually cared about him. Emily and Mel were more than happy to have welcomed such a lovely family into their lives.

A week after Harry's arrival they received their Hogwarts' letters listing the new books for their term:

'SECOND-YEAR STUDENTS WILL REQUIRE:

The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2 by Miranda Goshawk

Break with a Banshee by Gilderoy Lockhart

Gadding with Ghouls by Gilderoy Lockhart

Holidays with Hags by Gilderoy Lockhart

Travels with Trolls by Gilderoy Lockhart

Voyages with Vampires by Gilderoy Lockhart

Wanderings with Werewolves by Gilderoy Lockhart

Year with the Yeti by Gilderoy Lockhart'

"You've been told to get all Lockhart's books, too!" Fred said, looking at Harry's letter, "The new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher must be a fan - bet it's a witch."

"That lot won't come cheap," said George, with a quick look at his parents, "Lockhart's books are really expensive..."

"Well, we'll manage," said Mrs. Weasley, "I expect we'll be able to pick up a lot of Ginny's things secondhand."

Mel and Emily shared a look, maybe if the vault belonged to them fully they would be able to lend them the money they needed, but that vault belonged to the Dumbledore family. Technically, it didn't belong to her at all, she was a child.

"Oh, are you starting at Hogwarts this year?" Harry asked Ginny, he knew the answer, but he was trying to be kind.

Mel saw the little girl get completely red at Harry's question and looked away, stifling her laughter with food.

"Morning, all," said Percy, "Lovely day."

He was about to sit down when he squealed, holding what it seemed a grey, old bird.

"Errol!" said Ron, taking the limp owl from Percy, "Finally - he's got Hermione's answer. I wrote to her saying we were going to try and rescue you from the Dursleys."

He took the poor owl and laid it back next to his perch.

'Dear Ron, Mel, and Harry if you're there,

I hope everything went all right and that Harry is okay and that you didn't do anything illegal to get him out, Ron, because that would get Harry into trouble, too. I've been really worried and if Harry is all right, will you please let me know at once, but perhaps it would be better if you used a different owl because I think another delivery might finish your one off. I'm very busy with schoolwork, of course-'

"How can she be?" said Ron in horror. "We're on vacation!"

"Shh! Let me finish!"

'-and we're going to London next Wednesday to buy my new books. Why don't we meet in Diagon Alley? Let me know what's happening as soon as you can.

Love from Hermione.'

"Well, that fits in nicely, we can go and get all your things then, too," said Mrs. Weasley, starting to clear the table. "What're you all up to today?"

They had planned to go back to the hill where they usually played Quidditch, a safe land where the trees covered enough so the muggles couldn't see them.

Off they went, leaving Percy and Ginny -she hid in her room and said she felt ill, but Mel knew it was because she couldn't be in the same place as Harry long periods of time- and Harry asked why Percy was acting so oddly.

"Wish I knew what he was up to," said Fred, frowning. "He's not himself. His exam results came the day before you did; twelve O.WL.s and he hardly gloated at all."

"Ordinary Wizarding Levels," George explained, seeing their puzzled looks. "Bill got twelve, too. If we're not careful, we'll have another Head Boy in the family. I don't think I could stand the shame."

"There's no shame on wanting to be better," Mel scowled him, "there's no need to make others feel bad just because you don't share the same dreams"

"Lady, I'm sorry but if your biggest dream is to have a nice looking grade then you should try to keep looking, cause that's not it"

"Floo what? "

"Powder," Emily took a pinch and showed it to her, "it's faster this way, here," she put it on her daughter's hand, "it's alright, just threw it into the fire and say exactly to where are you heading."

"Watch us first," Fred said, and he took a pinch himself and threw it.

He walked into the green emerald fire and said in a loud voice, "Diagon Alley!"

He vanished.

Mel walked in next, not wanting to stand there and wait for anxiety to grow. She threw the powder and stepped in, the memory of the time she walked through flames with Harry made her panic a little, but she shook her head, almost yelling:

"Diagon Alley!"

She felt her body being pushed down onto the ground, but the floor was gone and a lot of images passed in front of her eyes making her dizzy, she was unable to move and didn't try to, scared of hurting herself she hoped it would stop on its own.

And it did, after a few seconds of aimlessly falling, she landed sideways on the dusty ground.

"Well done, lady," Fred offered a hand, helping her get on her feet, "How was it for the first time?"

"Why can't wizards just use cars," She whined, trying and failing to get off the dirt from her clothes"

Fred laughed.

"That's just not as fun," He tried to help her clean her sweater, but it was useless.

George appeared right after, swiftly landing and not caring to brush off the dirt from his body.

"Lovely, isn't it?" He grinned, examining the girl's ill expression, "you don't look happy"

Mr. Weasley landed behind his son, brushing the soot from his robes.

"We should get going, the rest will catch up with us"

They nodded and started to walk, Mel and the boys would gravitate towards the funny-looking objects with curiosity, but Mr. Weasley was quick to put them back on track.

"Is not like we can buy them anyway," Fred sighed, "we're just looking"

"Sometimes we can design things based on stuff we find around here," George told her in a low whisper, "it gives us an idea of what things wizards and witches find amusing"

"What for?" She asked with interest.

"We're planning to open our own joke shop someday," Fred said proudly, "one day we'll get the money and we'll make the best items for all kinds of pranks and tricks"

"It sounds fun," Mel agreed, "have you finished one of those inventions already?"

"Not really," George grimaced, "every time mum finds our experiments she throws them away, is not exactly helpful"

As he finished his sentence, Mrs. Weasley, Emily, Ron, and Ginny, ran up to them.

"Harry!" Mrs. Weasley cried, "We can't find him!"

"What!?" Mel rushed up to her mum, "What happened!?"

"He messed up the words," Ron lamented, "not his fault really, but now we don't know where he is"

"He can't be too far," Her mother tried to calm them down, "Harry's a smart boy, and he didn't completely mess up the words, just a little... must be around here"

They split into two groups, Mel going with her mother, Ginny, and Mrs. Weasley.

"I don't understand why everything always happens to him," Mel whispered to Ginny.

"I just hope he's okay," Her friend pouted, "poor Harry..."

"This is exactly why I think some traditions are just crazy, look how dangerous this is! What if he appears inside a muggle's chimney?"

"Can't happen," Ginny shook her head, "only magical places have floo line, no muggle houses are connected"

It took them almost half an hour to find the boy. He was in front of Gringotts, Hagrid and Hermione were also with him, though she didn't know how they had found each other.

"Oh, Harry - oh, my dear - you could have been anywhere-"

Gasping for breath Mrs. Weasley pulled a large clothes brush out of her bag and began sweeping off the soot Hagrid hadn't managed to beat away. Mrs. Weasley took Harry's glasses, gave them a tap of her wand, and returned them, good as new.

"Well, gotta be off," said Hagrid, who was having his hand wrung by Mrs. Weasley, "See yer at Hogwarts!"

"See you Hagrid!" Harry walked up to her and stare. "What?"

"You're not going to scowl me about this?"

"I'm not your mum," She crossed her arms, taking full offense, "I was worried but it wasn't your fault"

"Harry!" Emily walked up to him and hugged him tightly, "I'm so relieved! You have to be more careful, Harry!"

"You see, I don't have to scowl you when my mum can do it herself," She smirked.

"Hi Mel!" Hermione walked up to her and gave her a hug, "It's so good to see you!"

"Hi!" She replied.

"Guess who I saw in Borgin and Burkes?" Harry asked his friends as they climbed the Gringotts steps. "Malfoy and his father."

"Did Lucius Malfoy buy anything?" asked Mr. Weasley.

"No, he was selling-'

"So he's worried," said Mr. Weasley, "Oh, I'd love to get Lucius Malfoy for something..."

"You be careful, Arthur," said Mrs. Weasley "That family's trouble. Don't go biting off more than you can chew-"

"So you don't think I'm a match for Lucius Malfoy?" said Mr. Weasley.

But his anger soon went away as they met Hermione's parents at the main entrance.

"Nice to meet you," Mel noted the resemblance between Hermione and her mother, she wondered if she looked like that standing next to her own mother.

"But you're Muggles!" said Mr. Weasley, "We must have a drink! What's that you've got there? Oh, you're changing Muggle money. Molly, look!"

"Meet you back here," Ron said to Hermione as the Weasleys, Emily, Mel and Harry were led off to their underground vaults by another Gringotts goblin.

When the groups split, Emily discretely told Mel that she'd be going with Mrs. Weasley to buy Ginny's stuff and she wouldn't stop nagging until she accepted their help.

"Molly's been so nice to us, it's the least we can do"

"But, Dumbledore's vault-"

"This is from my own vault," When she saw her daughter's expression she added, "I have some savings there, enough in case Dumbledore's wasn't enough for your things. I didn't know they were so... rich"

"Okay," Mel nodded, "I'll see you in a while"

Harry bought four large strawberry-and-peanut-butter ice creams for them, they walked through Diagon Alley, examining the shop windows until Hermione dragged them to buy their equipment.

Inside a Wizarding Joke Shop, they saw Fred, George, and Lee Jordan buying Dr. Filibuster's Fabulous Wet-Start, No-Heat Fireworks. Percy was inside a shop of used, broken things that looked more like junk, reading a book called 'Prefects Who Gained Power.'

"A study of Hogwarts prefects and their later careers," Ron read aloud off the back cover. "That sounds fascinating..."

"Don't start," Mel warned him.

"Go away," Percy snapped.

"'Course, he's very ambitious, Percy, he's got it all planned out... He wants to be Minister of Magic..." Ron told them as they left.

"He's got a lot of work ahead of him," Mel raised a brow, "no wonder he stays all day inside his room"

They headed to Flourish and Blotts. As they approached, they saw a huge group of people trying to get in. A large banner above them:

'GILDEROY LOCKHART will be signing copies of his autobiography MAGICAL ME today 12:30 P.m. to 4:30 P.m.'

"We can actually meet him!" Hermione squealed. "I mean, he's written almost the whole booklist!"

The crowd was mostly witches, a poor worker stood at the entrance saying, "Calmly, please, ladies... Don't push, there... mind the books, now..."

Harry, Mel, Ron, and Hermione squeezed inside. They each grabbed a copy of The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2 and sneaked up the line to where the rest of the Weasleys and Emily were standing with Mr. and Mrs. Granger.

"Oh, there you are, good," said Mrs. Weasley, "We'll be able to see him in a minute..."

Mel grabbed her mother's hand to get her attention, Emily looked down to her daughter.

"You helped?" She asked in a whisper.

"As much as she let me," Emily frowned, "not even close to enough, she would only let me help with fewer things, potion ingredients and the floo powder because I insisted that we had used it too"

"That's something," Mel sighed, "wish we could do more..."

"We'll be right here if they need more help," Emily stroked the girl's hair softly, "don't lose sleep on it, love..."

Gilderoy Lockhart came into view, he was all too flashy for Mel's liking. He enjoyed too much all the attention, no one with common sense would enjoy his own face that badly.

"Out of the way, there," A photographer snarled at Ron, "This is for the Daily Prophet-"

"Big deal," said Ron, rubbing his foot since the man had carelessly stepped on it.

"Watch where you're going, don't be an animal," Mel said loudly, her mother clasped a hand on her shoulder and murmured in a horrified whisper 'Mel!'

Gilderoy Lockhart looked up. He saw Ron and then he saw Harry.

Then he stood up and shouted, "It can't be Harry Potter?"

The man sprinted towards them and snatched Harry away from the group, dragging him right up the front of the place. Mel watched in horror as the photographer took pictures of Harry, face red, hand trapped in Gilderoy's, who was whispering something to the boy.

"We have to get him out of there," She whispered to Ron.

"How exactly?" Ron said, just as shocked as her.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Gilderoy spoke up, now wrapping an arm around Harry's shoulders, "What an extraordinary moment this is! The perfect moment for me to make a little announcement I've been sitting on for some time! When young Harry here stepped into Flourish and Blotts today, he only wanted to buy my autobiography -which I shall be happy to present him now, free of charge-"

"How generous..." She grumbled.

"-He had no idea that he would shortly be getting much, much more than my book, Magical Me. He and his schoolmates will, in fact, be getting the real magical me. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I have great pleasure and pride in announcing that this September, I will be taking up the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!"

"Oh... great," Mel gulped, "why?"

"I'm not sure your uncle thought that through," Her mother said lowly, "but I trust you'll have interesting classes at least"

Mel nodded, she walked over to where Harry was heading now that he was free and planned to apologize for causing the whole situation. He stopped in front of Ginny, giving her the books.

"You have these," Harry mumbled, tipping the books into the girl's cauldron. "I'll buy my own-"

He was so considerate, all the time! ...There it was again, the nagging feeling in the pit of her stomach.

"Bet you loved that, didn't you, Potter?" Mel turned around, finding Draco standing a few feet away. "Famous Harry Potter, can't even go into a bookshop without making the front page."

"Leave him alone, he didn't want all that!" said Ginny.

She was giving Malfoy a deathly stare. Mel was surprised, she had never seen her spoke like that in front of Harry.

"Potter, you've got yourself a girlfriend!" Malfoy laughed.

Poor Ginny lost her courage, Ron and Hermione soon joined in.

"Oh, it's you," said Ron in disgust, "Bet you're surprised to see Harry here, eh?"

"Not as surprised as I am to see you in a shop, Weasley," retorted Malfoy. "I suppose your parents will go hungry for a month to pay for all those."

Ron dropped the books inside Ginny's cauldron and move towards him, Harry and Hermione stopped him before he could touch the kid.

"Sod off, Malfoy," Mel pushed Ron away, "we don't have the time for you"

"Ron!" said Mr. Weasley, who had seen the scene from a few spaces away, he had Fred and George with him. "What are you doing? It's too crowded in here, let's go outside."

"Well, well, well - Arthur Weasley."

That had to be Malfoy's father, he stood with the same air of superiority and was just as dislikeable from bare sight as his son.

"Lucius," said Mr. Weasley.

"Busy time at the Ministry, I hear," said Mr. Malfoy. "All those raids ... I hope they're paying you overtime?"

He reached into Ginny's cauldron and extracted a very old, very battered copy of A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration.

"Obviously not," Mr. Malfoy said. "Dear me, what's the use of being a disgrace to the name of wizard if they don't even pay you well for it?"

Mr. Weasley went scarlet red.

"We have a very different idea of what disgraces the name of wizard, Malfoy," he said.

"Clearly," said Mr. Malfoy, "The company you keep, Weasley... and I thought your family could sink no lower"

Mr. Weasley had thrown himself at Mr. Malfoy, knocking him backward into a bookshelf.

"Get him, Dad!" Yelled the twins.

Mel covered her mouth in surprise, unable to move.

Mrs. Weasley yelled, "No, Arthur, no!"

"Gentlemen, please - please!" The worker begged, "Break it up, there, gents, break it up -"

"Enough!" Emily pulled out her wand and made a swift movement, both men being pushed away from each other.

Hagrid then appeared, walking over to them and pulling them to their feet, keeping them apart. Mr. Weasley had a cut lip and Mr. Malfoy had a black eye. He gave the book back to Ginny aggressively.

"Here, girl -take your book- it's the best your father can give you-" Pulling himself out of Hagrid's grip and leaving the shop with his son.

"Yeh should've ignored him, Arthur," said Hagrid, almost lifting Mr. Weasley off his feet as he straightened his robes. "Rotten ter the core, the whole family, everyone knows that - no Malfoy's worth listenin' ter - bad blood, that's what it is - come on now - let's get outta here."

Mel found her mother's eyes and they had the same worried-amused expression. Emily turned to the Grangers.

"All right?"

"I think you should ask that to Arthur," Said Mr Granger politely, looking pale as paper.

"A fine example to set for your children... brawling in public... what Gilderoy Lockhart must've thought-" Mrs Weasley scowled.

"He was pleased," said Fred. "Didn't you hear him as we were leaving? He was asking that bloke from the Daily Prophet if he'd be able to work the fight into his report- said it was all publicity-"

"A brilliant professor, don't you think?" Harry asked her, a mocking smile on his face.

Next Chapter —>

Taglist.

@tiphareth2018 @vampiregirl1797 @siriuslysirius1107 @celestialhayi @omiwashere @mikariell95 @thesuitelifeofafangirl

#twoidiots writing #Harry Potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter xoc #harry potter x y/n #harry potter x reader #ron weasley #hermione granger #fred weasley #george weasley #ginny weasley #arthur weasley #molly weasley #rubeus hagrid #lucius malfoy #draco malfoy #WITT fic

36 notes · View notes

panelphysiciantorontoca · 4 years

Text

Is the Head-To-Toe Physical Exam Practically Worthless for Healthy Patients Who Are Asymptomatic?

As a wellbeing business analyst, I attempt to stay up to date with new patterns in medical care protection. One pattern I have found is that buyers would now be able to buy transient medical coverage approaches that will pay for specialist visits if the patient is debilitated, yet they won't pay for the standard "complete physical" related with an underlying visit.

Some essential care specialists won't see another patient except if the specialist can charge protection for $350 - $500 for a thorough visit. In the event that you search on the Internet for "head-to-toe physical" and "obsolete," you will discover many site pages that give contentions and proof that the total physical is to be sure redundant but rather might be consoling for certain patients. Conversely, the blood tests are multiple times more significant than a total physical for new patients.

We frequently hear the contention that a decent standard actual exam with lab work is significant and can help draw in the patients in their own care just as distinguish those patients in danger for coronary illness, diabetes, and different issues. The patient focused medical home model is based on coordination of care, not wiped out care. For standard medical coverage approaches (those polices other than momentary strategies), in any event one yearly "actual exam" or health visit is covered 100% by protection and no expense to the buyer.

I am searching for another essential care physician and will be seeing one toward the month's end. This arrangement is for another patient and will be coded for protection as "health visit, actual exam" despite the fact that there will be next to zero actual exam.

All things being equal, I intend to utilize an opportunity to mention to the specialist what blood tests I need on this visit to build up a standard, and during the time spent clarifying why I need them, he will find out about my medical history. I question there will be any time staying in the arrangement for even a restricted actual exam, however we will see.

My cholesterol numbers are not just superb, they are remarkable. The equivalent is valid for my C-responsive protein (a proportion of coronary failure hazard) and homocysteine (a proportion of stroke hazard). I have not had a total actual exam in more than 20 years and have not missed them the slightest bit.

I think that its shocking that any physician would touch my mid-region and afterward reveal to me I don't have any delicacy there, as though I didn't definitely realize that. I am all for preventive medical services, however I concur with the U.S. Preventive Health Task Force that the total actual exam has not been demonstrated to be practical at forestalling illness. Blood testing, then again, is basic to observing by and large wellbeing and basic to defining a system to forestall infections and medical conditions.

I have been approaching essential care docs for quite a while at this point in the event that they have ever discovered a variation from the norm on actual exam in an asymptomatic patient that was not gotten as a component of standard screening (PAP smear, colonoscopy, lab testing, and so on)

There have been insignificant positive reactions. (One specialist found an oral disease). Standard screening should be possible significantly more adequately and effectively by non-physicians as a component of a general wellbeing effort: think about the Polio immunization missions of the 1940s and 1950s.

Having said that, a conference with the patient/customer for wellbeing arranging purposes - distinguishing what is imperative to him/her and the effect of medical problems on those things that are significant and afterward thinking of a commonly adequate arrangement on the most proficient method to accomplish those objectives - is likely priceless, particularly if the physician has no monetary interest in the decisions that are made.

However we locate an astonishing absence of proof to help "yearly physicals exams" prompting early discovery of medical conditions. I welcome the famous intrigued peruser to tap on the connection at the lower part of this article to discover the reference for the National Institute of Health's pubmed interface identified with yearly physicals.

In examining a populace of middle school and secondary school understudy competitors who were needed to get "support physicals" to play on games groups, one examination found of 1268 understudies, 5% were alluded to trained professionals, yet just 0.2% were precluded from playing the games movement.

The creator presumes that most of those excluded would have been found by getting an itemized medical history alone. Another investigation of 763 understudy competitors discovered 3 positive references complete. Figuring in the expense of all the wellbeing laborers included, every one of these three discoveries included some significant downfalls of $4563. Furthermore, a sum of 16 medical issues were found over the span of the 763 understudy physicals, BUT 15 of the 16 issues were, and might have been distinguished, from taking the patient's medical history alone.

How would you figure most essential care physicians would respond if another patient went over his medical history yet declined in excess of a quick actual exam for getting his ideal blood tests? Would the normal essential care specialist just note "persistent decays total exam" and proceed onward, or would he/she badger the patient into getting a total physical, in light of the fact that that the manner in which the specialist consistently handles new patients? One issue with medical services is that patients are commonly deferential and fall into lockstep examples of getting certain exams or tests despite the fact that they have next to zero advantage on by and large wellbeing.

I habitually get with unfamiliar conceived and unfamiliar prepared medical specialists that "here in the US, specialists invest an excessive amount of energy on treating individuals after they get sick and insufficient season of keeping the disease from happening."

But I don't get this' meaning in useful terms? (1) specialists should arrange more blood tests to decide normal glucose levels (HbA1C test) with the end goal that all patients realize their HbA1C numbers and whether they are creeping towards diabetes.

Other supportive blood tests would incorporate a hormone board for all moderately aged or more seasoned patients, and afterward the specialists need to find out about ideal levels for these hormones, as opposed to unconsciously excusing results that fall in the "ordinary normal" range however might be problematic. (2) specialists need to have staff who can respond to patients' wellbeing questions, e.g., regardless of whether the patient should begin taking magnesium, without setting a weight on the specialist to address every one of these inquiries. (3) patients should be given focuses for HbA1C, HDL, complete cholesterol/HDL proportion, cortisol, and so on, to accomplish through their own proactive, educated determination regarding food decisions.

Visit this website and get in touch with our specialist.

1 note · View note

danielzetterholm · 4 years

Text

Seven Secrets To Choosing A Safe, Healthy Pet Food

Do you select canned food or dry food? What's? There are many diverse brands, all of size and shapes of dog food to select from and owners are given with hardly any facts to base your decisions on (apart from advertisements ) - it might become so confusing! Well, buckle your seat belt based on how far you are aware of your pet industry, this might possibly be a rough ride! You're just about to find seven keys - well maintained secrets - of Petfood. Sit right back, guard yourself, and read.

Beneful says it has'Premium Dog Food for a Happy, Healthy Dog' and retails for approximately $18.00 for a 3 1 pounds. Tote, Science Diet"promises"'precisely balanced nutrition through continuous research and the highest quality food backed by your Vets endorsement' and retails for approximately $21.00 for merely a 20 pound bag. Afterward there are a lot of pet foods which produce exactly the exact same statements 'Premium Dog Food, Highest Quality' - which sell for $30.00 or to get a 20 pound bag. And the exact same is true for kitty owners. . .Do you decide on Whiskas that says'Everything we do is about making cats happy!' Or can you select some of the highend cat foods which produce exactly the exact same promise of a joyful, healthful kitty however cost three times as much?

With the pet food remember pet-owners possess questions such as'Has this food been recalled?' Or'Is this food the next one to be recalled?' ...'Is my pet safe?' Wow that really is confounding! And scary too! Just what is just a dog owner ? Think about learning just a couple secrets! Built with all the wisdom of a couple keys of Petfood, it isn't anywhere near as confusing.

Secret #1...

All pet foods use descriptive words such as premium and choice, although some of these actually utilize premium or alternative components in their own food. The'secret' is that each the rules of their pet food business, no Petfood may create any claims or testimonials in the label or advertisements regarding grade or quality of ingredients. You seethe word'premium' if it is associated with pet-food DOES NOT mean that the ingredients from the food are superior. Together with pet foods, superior doesn't (can't ) clarify the foodstuff does it (is it) clarify the standard of the foodstuff. It's actually really just a marketing term and that's all. Per your Petfood businesses own regulations and rules,"There are no references to ingredient quality or grade" (law PF5 D-3 ). Therefore keywords such as superior, or choice, or grade are simply advertisements or sales provisions. They shouldn't be translated as terms explaining the standard of the food.

Why would not be a pet food label be allowed to share with a prospective customer the standard in these ingredients? Does a pet-owner deserve to be aware of what they're buying? This direct me into another location trick...

SecretNo 2...

If I will compare'people' food into pet food for only a minute, all of us know there are distinct qualities of food. There clearly was White Castle (I'm sorry, I really like the tiny guys!) And there's Outback Steak House (another favorite). Both restaurants serve sausage and meat. At White Castle at less than $3.00 it is possible to find two or three burgers along with also an order of chips. While at Outback you are able to find yourself a steak and baked potato for approximately $16.00. Both function beef and curry - yet you realize there are tremendous nutrient similarities between a fast food burger and a beef. . .right?

The issue from your pet food industry - is that a lot of owners do not think in precisely exactly the exact terms in regards to pet food. They don't really believe in terms which we now have fast-food kinds of pet foods also you can find still sit restaurant longer nutritionally beneficial kinds of pet meals. In reality, many years back a new man tried this incredibly experimentation with their or her own diet - eating only fast food for thirty days. In no more than 1 month of eating take out three meals every dayhe gained a fantastic deal of weight, blood pressure and cholesterol levels sky rocketed. Now, imagine your dog eating such a food its own' entire lifetime.

OK, so back to our two meals. . .if a chemical analysis of your meal at White Castle was compared to a chemical analysis of your meal at Outback - both would analyze with a percentage of protein, carbohydrates, and fat. Regardless whether you consider a steak at Outback a higher quality of protein than the burger - it would still analyze as protein. The analysis doesn't measure quality of protein.

So here is the secret. . .All pet foods come with a Guaranteed Analysis stating the percentage of protein, fat, fiber and moisture in the food. The REAL secret lies in the quality of the percentages of protein, fat, and so on.

In a chemical analysis of a pet food - chicken feet would analyze as protein, although granted it provides very little nutrition. And as well, a cow that was euthanized (put to sleep) because of a disease that made it unfit for human consumption - would analyze as protein although that could be considered dangerous for consumption. Both of those things - chicken feet and a euthanized cow - are allowable ingredients and commonly used in pet food. You see the secret within the pet food industry is manufacturers have a WIDE OPEN door to where they obtain their ingredients. The only strict rule they must follow is an adult dog food must analyze with 18% protein and an adult cat food must analyze with 26% protein. Sources to acquire those particular percentages range from a 'human grade' meat, to chicken feet, to euthanized animals, to grain proteins, to even man made chemical proteins and many variations in between.

Pet food labels do not have to tell - are not allowed to tell - the sources they use to obtain that required 18% or 26% protein. And to make matters worse. . .quality minded pet food manufacturers - the companies that use 100% human grade ingredients - are not allowed to tell customers or potential customers that their products are quality, human grade ingredients.

So how can you know if your pet's food uses chicken feet or euthanized cows or if it contains human grade ingredients?

Secret #3...

If the words premium and choice mean basically nothing with regards to the quality of pet food, and if some pet foods use chicken feet and euthanized animals in their food - how can a pet owner know what they are getting in their pets' food?

This massive secret lies in fixing definitions. Unlike'people' food at which you could look at the foodstuff to ascertain the caliber, Petfood is much different. All of'people' food needs to meet particular USDA (United States Department of Agriculture) and FDA (Food and Drug Administration) guidelines. The very same is incorrect for Petfood. Chicken feet and euthanized cows are NOT allowed in humans food for obvious reasons - that they don't have any nutritional value or else they are dangerous to take. The very same is NOT correct for Petfood. The single method to recognize if those fish foot or euthanized cows have been on your dog's food would be to understand what ingredients they are sometimes utilised in.

The frequent pet food component'Meat and Bone Meal' is ostensibly a combo of numerous lost left overs from the individual food market. Components of'meat and bone meal' may be such a thing from bunny heads, stomachs, and intestines, to (dreadful but-true ) Exotic animals such as cows, dogs and horses and cats out of vet offices, dog shelters, as well as farms. And combined side all those euthanized creatures your Petfood additionally comprises the medication pentabarbitol which has been used to euthanize the pet. 'Meat and bone meal' also can comprise left over restaurant grease, also diseased (such as malignant ) meat cells cut off from slaughtered creatures. To put it differently, this widely used fixing is a mixture of exceptionally poor and potentially dangerous left overs from the individual food market.

The Petfood component'Meat By-Product' or''Meat By-Product Meal' is virtually the exact identical item as'meat and bone meal'. It's an extremely poor Petfood component comprising literally who-knows-what.

Still another comparable ingredient to this aforementioned is'Animal Digest'.

Concerning the poultry feet I said earlier in the day - that this thing are discovered from the ingredients'Chicken By-Product' or''Poultry By-Product' or''Chicken By-Product Meal' or''Poultry By-Product Meal'. Any left overs from the poultry or chicken branch - containing but not restricted to poultry foot, epidermis including a few feathers, poultry or chicken thoughts, and intestines have been within those ingredients. It will NOT matter regarding wellbeing of the bird - ill healthy, deceased, dying. . .all is comprised in those ingredients.

So here is the thing you have todo. . .BEFORE you obtain some pet food, reverse the bag again and carefully inspect the set of ingredients. The aforementioned ingredients are recorded within the first ten or five ingredients. If you find ANY of the ingredients - it really is my proposal to NOT purchase that particular food. Recall - poultry feet and euthanized creatures do test as protein. This is all that's necessary in Petfood - only the suitable diagnosis.

Still another little trick a few pet food manufacturers utilize within this category would be using grains and compound additives to grain products to raise the protein proportions. That will be precisely the origin of your Petfood remember that began in March 2007 - compound proteins. Two different compound additives - which have NO nutritional significance for pets, however analyzed since protein - were inserted to your grain product (wheat germ, corn glutenfree, or rice ) solely to supply a inexpensive protein. Countless critters expired and hundreds of others became ill due to nobody relied upon the issue of this combo of both of these compounds would lead to kidney and sinus congestion. Their trick would be that the product needs to test as using a specific number of protein - that no body must supply an excellent beef protein.

As you're taking a look at the ingredient list - it's also advisable to observe the number of grains (wheat, corn, rice) or just the number of grain products (corn broccoli free, whole wheat, ground corn, whole wheat, ground corn, wheat gluten, rice, brown rice, brewers rice, poultry, soy, etc and on) are recorded within the first five or 2 ingredients. If you will discover more than 1 grain recorded from the first five ingredients - which is letting you know that this pet-food is gaining a number of its own nourishment .

What's protein got from potatoes significant that you be aware of? Several reasons - off mathematics demonstrates that cats dogs equally require and flourish on a protein. When your pet food is currently obtaining nourishment from grain resources, then your pet isn't receiving the meat it must flourish. Secondly, in the event the grain goods and solutions are a corn grain free, wheat glutenfree, or rice you require the probability of compounds like melamime added for it used rigorously to raise the protein investigation. Incidentally, melamime is just one of those compounds regarded as the reason for this March 2007 Petfood remember. And there was yet another concern with all grains - aflatoxin. Aflatoxin is just really actually a mortal mold that's not uncommon for wheat, corn germ, and soy plus it's really in charge of other Petfood remembers you almost certainly never found out of. In December 2005, Diamond Pet Food included improvised grains which murdered over 100 pets until the merchandise was remembered - all thanks to aflatoxin.

It's my recommendation in order to steer clear of any Petfood which comprises wheat, corn, or soy in ANY version. The danger is just too significant.

Secret #4...

I have more hints for one to search for while inside the fixing listings. . .chemical preservatives. A perfectly kept secret of this pet food sector is the ordinary utilization of chemical compounds. BHA/BHT are remarkably popular chemical compounds found in pet food and science has linked them into cancer and tumors. The other frequent preservative is ethoxyquin that includes understood risks into cancer. Ethoxyquin is ONLY allowed in human food in a few spices as a result of their very little proportions. Nevertheless it's enabled in substantially bigger proportions in Petfood.

If you scan the fixing listings, then you'll be searching for BHA/BHT and ethoxyquin listed anywhere. Commonly BHA/BHT can be employed to carry on the fat from the food that can be available higher among the. And look for at least one of these compounds near the close of the fixing list. As for me, I wouldn't touch a puppy food which comprised those compound preservatives. You desire a pet food that's maintained naturally - standard all-natural preservatives are'natural mixed tocopherols' or'vitamin E'.

Secret #5...

The absolute greatest food to supply to your own pet would be actually really just a well made food with ingredients that are human. This ought to be simple . . .How would you will discover that? You know that pet food manufacturers are NOT allowed to produce any statement concerning grade or quality of ingredients, so the only real means it's possible to figure out the grade or level of one's pets' food is to call the manufacturer and ask them.

Now, let's say you call the ABC pet food company and ask the question"Is the Premium pet food along with Premium cat food made with ingredients that are human " It could be that you get the response yes, we use human grade ingredients - when actually only a couple of ingredients are human grade. Here's the trick to asking. . .ask them if they are APHIS European certified.

Pet food manufacturers that are APHIS European certified assures you that ALL ingredients in their pet food are human grade. APHIS - Animal Plant Health Inspection Services - is a division of the USDA. APHIS European certification provides this pet food manufacturer with the opportunity to ship their foods/treats to Europe. When importing pet foods from the US, European countries demand that all ingredients are human grade and thus require this certification. Most pet food manufacturers that have APHIS European certification do not ship their products to Europe - they simply use this as a means to assure their customers to the higher quality of their ingredients.

Again, you WON'T see this listed on the label - it's not allowed. You must call the manufacturer and ask. Often times the representative of the pet food won't even know what you are talking about when you ask about APHIS certification - if that's the case, you can assume they are not APHIS European certified. APHIS European certification is a bonus to pet owners - it is not required or even suggested that any pet food manufacturer go through the extra steps to obtain this. This is a special effort some pet foods go through to tell their customers they REALLY CARE about the quality of their products. Personally, I would NOT buy a pet food that doesn't have it.

And by the way, if you can't reach the pet food manufacturer, or they do not return your call within a short time frame, lose their number! Any company that does not place a priority on answering customers questions - doesn't deserve your business!

Secret #6...

Minerals are a required ingredient in human diets as well as diets for our pets. Copper, Iron and Zinc are common minerals found in pet foods. Just as they are - copper, iron, and zinc are basically rocks, very difficult for anyone or any pet to utilize. Science has developed several ways to introduce minerals into the body (human and pet) for better absorption thus benefiting the individual far more. This scientific development is called chelating or proteinating and it's been around for years. Through the chelating or proteinating process minerals are absorbed about 60% better than just the minerals alone.

This secret is spotting the minerals in your pet food to see if they are chelated or proteinated. Notice the minerals on your pet food label, way down on the list of ingredients. You are looking for minerals that read 'copper proteinate' or 'chelated copper'. If you see just the mineral listed, your pet is sort of like Charlie Brown at Halloween saying'I have a stone'. If you want your pet to have the best, chelated or proteinated minerals are part of the best foods!

Secret #7...

This secret is called 'friendly bacteria'. Although'friendly bacteria' sounds a little scary, the reason for it lies in your pets' immune system. A huge part of one's pets' immune system is found within the intestinal system. Keeping the immune system healthy helps to keep the animal itself healthy. This friendly bacteria is similar to what's found in yogurt, however in pet food it is introduced in a fashion so that the cooking process doesn't destroy it. Looking at the fine print on your pet food label, this time you are looking for lengthy, scientific words like Lactobacillus Acidophilus or Bifidobacterium Thermophilum. If you do NOT see these words or some very similar, that pet food is not addressing the care of your pets' defense mechanisms. And , should you would like your dog to own the most useful, then you would like'friendly bacteria' in your own food.

There really are some seven very secrets that will aid you in finding the absolute safest and finest Petfood for your own friend. Equipped with those keys - you finally have the data to locate your dog the very best food potential! An Petfood which could extend their life and also prevent premature aging and disorder. In the event you never wish to bother doing this assignments included, I recommend you to register to my own yearly magazine Petsumer Report(TM). During Petsumer Report(TM) I've done all of the prep for you - monthly I examine and speed within 40 distinct pet foods, toys, treats, along with also several other pet supplies. Oahu is the ONLY book of its' kind providing pet owners with the information they need to know regarding their pet product purchases.

I want to share just a couple more things...

It's best to feed an adult dog or adult cat two meals a day. The nutrition they consume with two meals is better utilized than with just one meal a day. If you are currently feeding your pet one meal a day, split that same amount into two meals and feed in the AM and PM.

You should know that all canned or moist pet foods are anywhere between 70% to 85% moisture. This means that 70% to 85% of that can or pouch of food is useless nutrition - its water. Granted our pets need water, cats especially tend not to drink enough water. But since all canned or moist foods are mostly water, they do not provide adequate nutrition to be fed strictly a canned or moist diet. Use a canned or moist product to supplement your pet's diet - not as the only food.

The best pet foods are preserved naturally (secret #4) - but there is a concern with naturally preserved pet foods. . .freshness. Take notice of the expiration date on your pets food label - typically with naturally preserved dry pet foods (not as much of a concern with soft foods because of canning - very little need of preservatives) the expiration date is one year to 18 months from the date it was manufactured. Let's say the pet food you are considering to purchase on July 1, 2007 has a 'Best if Used by' date of January 1, 2008. This would tell you that this particular bag of pet food is already 6 months old. While it is still'good' a more healthy food - a tote that's 2 or 3 months old - is much way better. Needless to say pet foods lose nutrient effectiveness as time passes. Always work to come across an extremely fresh tote.

If you're thinking about shifting your own pets food, then ALWAYS check your Veterinarian first. You always need to maintain your vet advised of any changes which you create with your dog. Do not take chances. Of course should you switch pet food, then make the shift over very slowly. I recommend to pet-owners 1/4 fresh food to 3/4 old food for 4 weeks days to 1 week, 1/2 into 1/2 to get a second 4 to seven days, etc. Shifting food fast might cause gastrointestinal illness! Its short word, however we do not desire autoimmune disease!!!

1 final thing, since you're already aware cats and dogs have a much greater sense of smell than humans. Their food bowl may be wealth of scents - both bad and good. A few times a furry friend will won't eat because she or he snacks a preceding food in their bowl. Vinyl water and food bowls maintain scents that the most worst. And surprisingly does metal utensils. The ideal form of water and food bowl would be a ceramic . They maintain scents at the least.

2 notes · View notes

vityacristo · 4 years

Text

Grilled Cheese

Para: Grilled Cheese

Who: Vitya Cristo & Monty Prescott @montyprescottjoy

When: June 27th, 2020

Where: Vitya’s apartment

What: Vitya, mid-manic episode, goes grocery shopping for food beyond candy. Monty is waiting, unannounced, in his dorm room. They tip-toe through conversation, yet again, unable to break down each other’s walls. That does not mean boundaries aren’t broken, though...

Triggers: Suicide, Drug use, Abuse, Sexually Explicit

VITYA

Vitya was cursing to himself as he walked to his dorm room. Something processed him that morning, something gripped his gut and it would not go away; Go buy groceries. Vitya never bothered, just eating junk food. he figured, if he wasn't going to live long, why bother taking care of himself? He had no idea how to cook, anyway, so this could be a complete failure. the only guide he had was the 'diet recommendations' his doctor had, buying everything he could find on that list. His wallet was looking thin now. He opened his dorm door, noticing a familiar pair of shoes by it; Monty had let himself in. Vitya didn't mind. It felt... nice coming back to his dorm, knowing someone was there waiting for him. Even if it was Monty, of all people. Now that he thought about it, the voice in his head, telling him to do this, was less his own just telling him to get groceries, but more Monty's voice. 'Eat some real food, asshole' was more appropriate. Knowing the other man was likely in his bedroom, he passed by the kitchen and opened his bedroom door. Unceremoniously, he dropped one of the bags on the bed, the contents of apples, lettuce, and a loaf of bread spilling out.

"Get up. You're teaching me how to cook."

MONTY

Monty had been waiting for Vitya, he was rather surprised when he'd gotten no answer at the door and part of him was worried by that. as far as Monty knew Vitya didn't spend the night with clients so it was concerning to not get an answer this early in the day. It was barely lunchtime. Monty often showed up here without any warning these days and this was the first time there had been non answer. Monty pulled a small tool from his wallet and jimmied the lock, keeping his eyes peeled for anyone who might see him breaking in but luckily the dorms were quiet because it wasn't quite official move in day yet so only returning students were even on campus.

Monty looked around the dorm as he entered quietly, toeing off his shoes so he wouldn't make much noise just incase Vitya was still asleep. Monty found the apartment empty which made his stomach fall in disappointment. He huffed but decided to wait, after all it wasn't like he had anything better to do than hang around with the younger man for the day. Not that he would admit he wanted to spend the day here, just that he had nothing else going on with no classes to keep him out of trouble at the moment when he wasn't working on his research project.

Monty took a peek in the refrigerator and couldn't even find a beer. He grumbled under his breath about Vitya having finished off the last case he'd left here and flopped down on the bed. He let his mind wander as he laid there and was half asleep, face buried in Vitya's pillow when he was shocked from his sleep by the sound of Vitya's footsteps and a bag of groceries hitting his leg.

"The fuck asshole?" He groused, voice thick with sleep and hair sticking up in every direction. "Where the fuck ya been man? What with the bag attack?" He huffed, brow raised suspiciously at the food that had rolled out of the bag.

VITYA

Vitya couldn't help but laugh to the state of Monty. His disheveled hair, the sleepy tone of voice, the huffing and puffing. "I went shopping. I actually paid for something, for once." He stepped to the edge of the bed, leaning over and petting his hair back, kissing his forehead. "Come on, you're going to show me how to make something." Vitya said, standing back up and grabbing the tossed bag and walking outside the bedroom.

"I was able to grab you a bottle, too. I had to smuggle it out, since you Americans have moronic age gates for that, but I still got it," Vitya said, placing the bags on the table and starting to unpack. An array of healthy foods, fruits, grains, meat, as well as a few bags of candy, more due to Vitya's love of sweets and impulse to buy them. "I have no idea what I am doing with all of this, so I hope you at least know something. I'd rather learn from someone in person than a Youtube video," Vitya admitted, reaching into his left boot and pulling out the bottle of bourbon he stole. He set it to the side, for Monty to go at whenever he wanted.

MONTY

Monty hummed softly in appreciation of the gentle forehead kiss that helped bring him back to the land of the living and batted Vitya’s hand away playfully. “So you’re telling me ya didn’t just raid a vending machine damn kid what is this a special occasion?” Monty laughed teasingly. He’d never see this much food in Vitya’s apartment and he couldn’t help but wonder if the younger man was finally taking his own illness seriously by actually trying to live a healthy lifestyle.

“I see! The truth is finally out. The prince of poison himself doesn’t know how to cook. that’s why he lives on a diet of candy!” Monty actually laughed out loud, messing with Vitya and using his childhood nickname against him. “I ain’t exactly master chef ya know. I don’t just eat take out around you, but Nikko did teach me some shit an’ I do have my own famous grilled cheese I can show ya real east an it looks like ya got all the stuff for it. I see ya couldn’t resist ya sweet shit though.” Monty teased as he spied the candy while collecting the ingredients for a good grilled cheese and starting to throw the rest slightly haphazardly into the refrigerator out of habit, not thinking (or more like not allowing himself to think) how helpful he was being by doing it without being asked or forced. “Good call on the bourbon.” Monty moaned eying the label. “Ya got any ice goin in the freezer or do I gotta wait to have a glass of this?”

VITYA

Vitya laughed to himself, shrugging at Monty's question. "Not sure... You're here fairly often, and we always eat, figured I can have something here," Vitya noted, still pulling out various items. He looked at a rather girthy cucumber with a twinkle in his eye. "Thought of you," he joked, setting it on the counter.

Vitya could not control his impulsive laughter, this one making his eyes crinkle, his cheeks turn pink. "Shut up, I was a pampered prick. I never lived somewhere without a personal cook until moving America- Imagine my horror!" he said with both sarcasm as well as self-reflective truth. Feeding himself was hard at first, and that challenge made his diet of candy an easy choice. Nevermind what it did to his emotional state, eating junk all the time. It wasn't the cause of it but it certainly didn't help.

"Well, I am not expecting high cuisine here. You have just... lived more than I have, and if anyone is going to teach me how to be better at this 'feeding yourself' thing, it would be you." There were little butterflies in his stomach as that sentence came out. It was tart to say, sour but sweet. Monty had such a riviting life, of mob hits and gun fights and a brother he would die to protect. To Vitya, it was a far more exciting life than his. His eyes wandered to where Monty was helping him put the groceries away, tossing them inside. Hey, as long as they were edible, he didn't care where they ended up. First step was actually eating them, not organizing them like colors of socks. "Of course I do, Red Bull with vodka demands ice. It's in the freezer," the pointed to the top compartment.

Vitya collected the plastic bags, shoving them under the sink to be used as trashbags later. He grabbed his precious bags of candy and placed them on his desk, having to move some jars of dirty water and ink to give them a spot. He walked back to the kitchen, playfully resting his chin on Monty's shoulder. "So, are you going to make me watch you make the grilled cheese, or are you going to recreate the pottery scene in Ghost?"

MONTY

"Tryin' ta tell me ya sick of take out? Fuckin' sure they can cook more than me, but unless ya highness has a money tree we do need to cut down," Monty cocked his head, and stuck out his tongue in a way that wasn't exactly common with him but he was still a little pliant from sleep in a way that was also unusual so it seemed his guard was down for a change... though it didn't last long as he made his next quip he instantly felt his own insides shatter... "or ya need ta be takin' ya ass ta work more." Monty instantly bit his own lip. There was a time he didn't care about Vitya's job, he understood doing whatever a person needed to do to make money but now the thought of Vitya going out and doing that made him feel sick in a way he didn't understand. Monty turned away feeling himself blush, he never blushed.

Monty only looked back when he saw the cucumber waiving in his peripheral vision and he was finally able to laugh again, to took the produce from Vitya and lewdly imitated the motions of a handjob on the length of it before throwing it into the refrigerator with the rest.

"Fuckin' fine. Grilled cheese it is. It's one-a the first things Nikko showed me, figure if he let me do it you can too, and I throw slices or tomatoes in there so it counts for vegetables or whatever." Monty shrugged off Vitya's comment about having 'lived more'. He didn't find his life something to be proud of something people should be interested in, to him it represented the very worst of his memories and as much as he used his mob connections as a shield; something to terrify others with, it was the thing he was most ashamed of. Monty looked away from Vitya, keeping his eyes downcast as he moved around the kitchen area collecting a glass, ice, and the bottle of bourbon. He took a deep swig before pouring a half glass and topping it with ice. Monty leaned back into Vitya's body when he hooked his chin on a shoulder, he couldn't resist pressing a kiss to the younger mans jaw. "If by that ya mean forgettin' the food and going to the fuckin' I ain't complainin' but if ya wanna eat today ya better gimme a frying pan and the bread and butter." He chuckled.

VITYA

"What, and you aren't? There are only so many fucking times I can eat chinese food, or afford to." Vitya joked again, giving Monty the middle finger at him sticking his tongue out. The playful warmth between them froze like Hell in a blizzard, for a split second, when Monty let slip his addendum. Vitya's jaw locked a moment; it had been a long time. His last 'paycheck' was three days before his hospital visit, nearly two months ago. Vitya never said anything, but he was strapped for cash. "Let me worry about that," he said, in a somber tone. The reality was, Vitya knew nothing else. He had no other practical skills beyond sex, but he was having so much fun with Monty, feeling better than he ever felt, both inside and out- He didn't want to fuck someone else. Vitya had to be rational; he needed cash. And he wasn't going to take it from Monty anymore. So, whoring himself out it is.

The tone met in the middle, lukewarm, as Vitya watched Monty pour his drink, feeling the other man's warmth against him made it so tempting for Vitya to let his hands wander, maybe jerk Monty off from behind, but he resisted, for now. He chuckled, returning the kiss on his jaw with a lick up the shell of Monty's ear, biting the lobe and then letting it go. "Alright, hold on," Vitya said, letting Monty go, searching through the cupboards for a frying pan. he eventually found one, handing it to the other man along with the items he asked for.

"Normally I would take you up on the 'skip food, just fuck' thing, but the last time I ate anything was when you were here last, so I figure I better not skip this time," Vitya admitted. It affirmed one thing; his grocery shopping today had nothing to do with Monty coming to visit. Vitya had no idea he would be there today. He didn't buy it for when Monty was there; he bought it for when he wasn't. For when Vitya was on his own, not caught under Monty's eye, who Vitya knew watched him eat...

"Tell you what; once we're done here, I'll blow you. As long as you want."

MONTY

"Fuck, fine, okay, sendin' Nikko ta LA hurt my wallet an' I'm even more on the outs with pops after refusin' ta do a job for him but I should be gettin' some cash at the end of summer for this project I'm workin' on if I get all the fuckin' math figured out. That or we go Breaking Bad in here an' I start cookin' my own shit." Monty laughed dryly. Humour fizzling out as he mentally took stock of his current savings. Yes his graduate program got him room and board thanks to the scholarship prize but it barely stretched beyond the apartment rental. Textbooks and equipment in his field were not cheep.

"Ya know, ya could think about sellin' some of this." Monty gestured to the art littering the room. He actually did appreciate Vitya's art more than he would ever feel comfortable voicing and the thought of Vitya selling that rather than his body was oddly comforting in a way he couldn't understand never mind explain.

A shiver ran up Monty's spine thanks to the heat of Vitya's breath and the kiss in return. A blush raised in his cheeks and he cleared his throat distractedly, trying to refocus himself on the task at hand.

"Fuck Vitya, it's been two full days." Monty sighed heavily, wanting to punch the other boy for his idiocy but not wanting to expose his concern, already berating himself for the words he'd let slip so he kept the anger in check as best he could as he attempted to butter the bread gently so it wouldn't tear it up.

"Al'ight sounds like a fair exchange," Monty grinned, feeling more relaxed as their easy banter set back in. "Want ya ta swallow it too, look so fuckin' hot when ya swallow it down for me, pretty boy..." Monty couldn't help the words slip out as Vitya's lips caught his eye, reminding him of the image that was Vitya's lips red and puffy...

VITYA

Vitya snapped his fingers at Monty, in a small 'told you' sort of way. Monty was stretching himself, too; all the more reason Vitya needed to get back out there and work. Monty at least had a plan, one that involved his career, uplifting himself. It was admirable. His train of thought was interrupted at Monty's suggestion, eyes rolling over the mounds of art he had made. He grimaced. "Really? It's all depressive ramblings and... I don't know, devil worship? That's a niche market if I ever heard of one." He said. In all honesty, Vitya had no faith in his own work. He only chose it as a major so then he could get into this college; it was either that or be homeless, so Vitya chose college.

Vitya could hear the concern in Monty's voice. Instead of give in, he just smiled and shrugged. "Yeah, well... I'm working on it." he spoke softly, returning Monty's concern with a hopeful optimism. A rare form, in Vitya's case, the emotional vulnerability making his heart pound. "It takes a lot, sometimes, just to get out of bed, so the fact I made it to the store and back? I call that a win," Vitya threw his hands into the air, hoping this conversation would end here. He didn't want to talk about his mental health, or his behavior, right now. He wanted to make food with Monty, and ignore the past two days entirely.

"Mmmn," Vitya teased back, licking his lips when they caught Monty's eye. "Oh, I will, if you..." Vitya leaned to Monty's ear again, sliding his hands down's Monty's arms. "...Slide your cock so far down my throat, it makes my body freeze, and my head go all fuzzy-" He cut himself off, stealing Monty's glass of bourbon a moment and backing away, taking a sip before putting the glass back where it was. "Don't get too distracted, " he teased, motioning to the task at hand. "You need to earn it!"

MONTY

"Hey stop thinkin' so hard over there, ya know I can mock up some financial documents for ya, that's how I cleaned up freshman year, been doin' ma dad's taxes an' shit for years, the man's an ass but we know how ta play the system." Monty laughed, he'd never told anyone but Nikko about this and even then it was only recently, after he started college. Yet he didn't question the way he was opening up to Vitya, it just seemed natural and somehow he knew Vit wouldn't snitch.

"Nah man, crazy old collectors go mad for this shit. An' if tryin' ta sell legitimately doesn't work gettin' ya shit inta an established gallery is a scam I could work easy." Monty winked, letting his mind wander down the road of imagination. Even if scamming was part of his horrid upbringing it was something he often genuinely enjoyed. The thrill got his heart racing. Though that could just be from Vitya's proximity... Monty cleared his throat "Got a knife for cheese or did ya get craft slices?" he asked, concentrating more than necessary on the pan heading up and melting the glob of butter he'd thrown in.

"Did someone fuckin' sneak happy pills in ya mornin' red bull? Ain't seen ya this fuckin' optimistic since the idea of havin' my cock up ya ass" Monty teased, but it was soft, almost kind, pleased to see the younger man in a light he wasn't used to. Having someone to connect with, who understood his pain was one of the best things about Vitya, after fucking of course, but seeing him hopeful did something to Monty he hadn't experienced before except with Nikko... it made him proud. But even deeper than with Nikko it also made warmth stir in his belly.

"Fuck..."Monty groaned shamelessly at Vitya's response, that familiar tingling racing through his body, making his dick twitch in response, his head fell back onto Vitya's shoulder and he pressed his ass back against the taller man's dick instinctively. His body instantly felt cold when Vitya moved away and he had to press his hands hard onto the counter to regain his composure.

VITYA

Vitya shook his head. "Temping, I don't want charity... As nice as your offer is," Vitya added on the end, not wanting to sound ungrateful at Monty's offer. It was kind of him, and Vitya had no idea what to do with that. Vitya had nothing to offer Monty beyond sex, and yet he wasn't asking for anything by offering this to him. At home it was 'Smile for the camera and you get a treat', a concept that Vitya still used to this day with his prostitution.

Vitya laughed for a moment, a air of disbelief on his face. "You would scam my way into a gallery? I went to so many useless galas and balls at art galleries growing up, the people at those were posh and snarky and... gross. You think you can trick that crowd into thinking my depraved, sexual, borderline rancid work is high class?" Vitya reached into a nearby drawer, handing him one of the knives inside. The drawer was disorganized, taking a moment to find it.

"This is just... normal," Vitya said, cryptically, shrugging his shoulders. "I'm low, sometimes really low, for a few weeks and then, boom. Really, really high for a few days. It comes in waves. My professors back home would say I was 'manic'," Vitya explained. He had never gone to a therapist, psychologist, nothing. With his physical health being so poor, he hid all he could about his mental health. But with Monty, away from home, feeling more free than ever... He was able to talk about it. For the first time in his life, someone knew he had a problem.

A tingle of power went down Vitya's spine as he watched Monty fumble before him. It made him feel so strong, like he could take on the world, when he had Monty like this. In the palm of his hand... "Don't let the thought of me circling my tongue on your tip distract you too much. Go on, I want to learn how to make your sandwich..." he teased, grabbing a jelly bean from one of his many, many candy bowls and slowly sliding it onto his tongue.

MONTY

“Ain’t like I’d be the one giving ya money, just a few fake documents ta have the school giving ya what ya need.” Monty shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal to try and scam a huge business like a university. His perception of what constituted ‘a big deal’ was extremely warped thanks to his upbringing. Kindness, selflessness, compassion were things that terrified him as much as if not more than putting a gun to someone’s head and pulling the trigger but fraud was nothing.

Monty shrugged, continuing to work on the food as if it really wasn’t a big ask. “Sounds easy enough, those bougie pricks are easy ta manipulate, they’re like fuckin toddlers always wanting new entertainment and bein possessive little fuckers.” He laughed. “We’d persuade some hot dude who can pull off that mysterious shit ta play the part of you an’ charm his way into those inner circles with a bit of blackmail and the promise of a small cut.” Monty mused, letting his mind run wild planning a con. It had been a while since he’d done anything more than running drugs and the potential had his mind buzzing.

Monty listened closely to Vitya explaining some of what went on in his head. It was similar to how he felt when he was taking drugs regularly, but those feelings were chemically induced highs and lows not his own brain chemistry and he had heard enough from Nikko to know what Vitya was describing wasn’t healthy or normal but he had no idea what to do or say and it terrified him.

He did the only thing he could think of. He put down the knife and turned into Vityas arms and placed a hand on the taller boys neck, his thumb resting on his sharp jawline and kissing him hard. Not sexually and filled with desire but firm and filled with promise even though he had no idea what he was promising.

“Fuck you!” Monty tried to sound threatening at Vitya’s teasing but it came out breathless almost like a whine and he couldn’t even gather his thoughts enough to care how pathetic it sounded.

VITYA

"And I'm telling you, I don't need it," Vitya said again, this time more firmly. "You already have given me enough money, I don't need you goading the university to give it to me, too." He said, hoping this would be the end of it. Knowing Monty, he would bring it up again, butt hat was for another time.

Vitya snapped his head to Monty, a curious, and fake-offended look on his face. "What, you don't think I could pull it off? I've played The Game before, Monty. I've wowed a crowd or two. Mainly at my father's request, but if I can convince money-hungry dogs that I was, indeed, the perfect son with full intent to take over his business, I can con some art hacks into thinking I'm some bougie personality," Vitya glanced at his art again, pursing his lips.

Vitya was shocked at first, at Monty's sudden burst of affection, but didn't refuse it. He kissed back, with a similar fervor, taking Monty's waist with one hand and his hair with the other. He gripped tightly, wanting nothing more than to strip him down, there and then. It was so hard to resist.

"You really want it bad, don't you?" he whispered, the hand on Monty's waist sliding to the obvious bulge in his pants. "Really, really bad," he continued, sliding his hand up and down. Fuck, this is what Vitya needed! That dominating power, that hold on Monty like a vice. He could get drunk from this... "Be a good boy and finish cooking. Then, whatever you want. You'll be a good boy, right?"

MONTY

"Thought I was payin' for a service." Monty raised a brow trying to read Vitya but he didn't press any further no matter how much he wanted to. To be good at illicit activities you needed at least some level of perception and he'd quickly learned when not to push Vitya if he didn't want it to turn into a fight though he was still more in the dark about this guy than he would like.

Monty laughed. "I've got no doubt the littlest prince could pull it off but do ya want all them jerk-offs knowin' ya face? Aren't ya supposed ta be hidin' from Daddy? Figured ya'd be tryin' not ta draw attention to yaself but whatever we'll throw ya ta the dogs if that's what ya want." He rolled his eyes, feeling as though Vitya was only pushing this to prove a point and he didn't feel like fighting. Monty knew all about trying to be the perfect son but his families idea was far different than the Cristo family.

Monty held Vitya tight, the hand not at his neck was wrapped tight around his waist keeping them close. He let his eyes close and leaned their foreheads together in a comforting, intimate gesture once their lips broke apart. To some sex was intimate, but to him these soft gestures were more than he could bare. Usually.

"Always want you," Monty gasped out, losing himself to the feel of Vitya surrounding him. The taller man was taking over all of his senses and the thought of cooking completely left his mind as he tried to thrust his hips forward to find more friction for his fully hard cock. Vitya had power over him like nobody else and all he wanted to do was give himself over willingly and have someone take care of him in every way. Monty shivered with the words ''good boy" and he whined shamelessly. "Y-Yes." He forced out.

VITYA

Vitya looked at Monty with an unblinking stare, a mile long, navigating the words that came out of Monty's mouth. He broke eye contact a moment, licking his lips. "You aren't giving me more money." There. Final. Done.

Vitya shook his head. "Not really hiding anymore. He paid my hospital bills, sends me these medications he wants me on, but aren't FDA approved. He knows where I am. Why he hasn't come after me... I have no idea. I think he knows if I see him again, I will make damn sure he can't find me..." Vitya stopped, his hands balled into fists as he went on. he let the pressure go, breathing his fury out. "Besides, I don't want some rando claiming my work, even if we pay them."

Vitya continued palming Monty's erection, his wrist changing the angle every few strokes, letting Monty practically hump his hand. "Good. Then," Vitya turned Monty back around, but this time, pressed his chest to Monty's back, lightly grinding his own hard cock against his lower back. His hands were on Monty's hips again, but this time, one went up to play with his belt buckle. "You keep going, and the more you do, the more I do," he said. With the pace of a snail, Vitya started pulling at Monty's belt, slowly starting to take it off. He stopped, just before the last of the belt left the metal buckle. "See? Look what being such a good boy got you... So much closer to your reward."

MONTY

Monty rolled his eyes but dropped the subject, seeing it wasn't worth fighting anymore right now.

He took a moment to absorb Vitya's words on the subject of his father trying to process it. "So no Bratva followin' ya around?" Monty tried to tease, shying away from talking about fathers, it was an uncomfortable subject and he tried to block out the memories of the the last time his father had contacted him because his threats were still hanging over his head and he was both scared and glad his father hadn't yet followed up on the threats. "We'll make ya the perfect little Russian gentleman an' have 'em fawnin' all over ya." Monty chuckled, redirecting his attention to the image of Vitya suited and booted for a fancy party. It was a good image.

All the thoughts of scamming and scheming were driven from his mind as Monty tried his best to move his concentration back to the task at hand. The pan was smoking from the time he had been distracted, usually he was more than capable of preparing the food while the pan warmed but not today. A strangled moan left Monty's throat at the feel of Vitya's hard cock sliding against his ass. He had to clench his fists the stop them shaking from desire before he could turn down the heat on the burner and put together the sandwiches. He layered the cheese and tomato between the bread waiting for the pan to get back to a proper cooking temperature. "More, please...." He whined, trying to buck his hips up to the hands that were so close yet so far. He loved and hated how quickly Vitya could reduce him to begging. Monty Prescott did not beg for anyone. Except for this man.

VITYA

"If they are following me, they are doing a good job keeping themselves hidden," Vitya said, noticing that this was a subject neither of them wanted. Good, this was uncomfortable. Both of them had difficult connects with their fathers, and neither wanted to talk about the details too much. Yet one more thing they could agree on. Vitya smirked and ran his fingers in his hair, rolling his eyes. "You just want me in a suit," he teased.

Vitya watched Monty try so hard to keep it together. He really was doing everything Vitya said, without question. He was trembling, and each little shake made Vitya feel so damn powerful. Vitya kissed and sucked at Monty's neck, watching his hands work. When he whined, Vitya smiled against his skin. He gracefully unbuckled the last of Monty's belt, letting it dangle by the loops. His hands were on Monty's jeans, two fingers sliding up and down the length of his zipper. "Almost there," he whispered, undoing the button and peeling the zipper apart. Vitya's finger's danced over the elastic of his underwear, tracing circles around his confined cock through the thin fabric. "You're doing so well, so close. Such a good boy.”

MONTY

"We could throw a few Cugine on ya see if they find anythin'." Monty mused, though thinking how badly that ended after putting a few young idiots on Sam and it ending with him being robbed and putting him and Nikko on the outs. But it was worth it to protect someone he cared about... wait no he couldn't go that deep... but another thought cut him off as he realised it was too late now...

Monty winked, "Wouldn't say no ta that, bet ya look hot as fuck." He licked his bottom lip teasingly, letting his eyes roam Vitya's lithe body.

Standing there Monty felt completely powerless. Usually it was a feeling he hate more than any other. For his whole life he'd craved complete control because he'd been stuck under his fathers thumb doing things he hated but giving up control to Vitya was freeing. He didn't have to make tough calls and painful decisions because here was someone doing it for him, keeping him safe and steady. He didn't hate this because in the end the things Vitya was making him do were things he wanted to do, he'd just never understood how to ask...

Monty felt completely consumed by Vitya who's body was all over him; fingers, lips, chest, dick. He sloppily threw the two sandwiches into the pan and prodded them with a spatula he'd spotted in the draw Vitya had opened to find a knife so they didn't stick. Monty's body was getting hotter and hotter, every inch of him was tingling with too much not enough as Vitya touched and teased him. "Please man fuckin' touch me" He groaned, letting go of the pan handle and reaching back to fist his hand into Vitya's hair. "Been good, please, more." He keened, wiggling his hips, trying to grind back on Vitya's cock to get him as desperate for more as Monty himself was.

VITYA

Vitya cocked an eyebrow. "No. If I'm in danger, I run. Simple as that. I don't need protecting," Vitya said, in the same tone he uses when he is annoyed. The type of annoyed when someone asks how he is feeling, or if he is taking his meds. It felt like he was being babied, and having wanna-be mobsters keeping an eye on him? No, he'll brave it on his own.

Vitya's heart was pounding. He had this man, who was so loud and strong and independent, around his finger, whimpering and begging for release. He wasn't pushing, either, to get it himself, he was letting Vitya choose when. Vitya sighed on Monty's neck when he grabbed his hair, biting his lip and letting Monty rut against his crotch. The friction of the fabric made it so hard to saw no... But if anything was going to happen, he needed the energy to do so. And that meant eating before getting busy.

Vitya's fingers slid under Monty's waistband, fingers now touching the bare skin of his cock. He was warm, hard, and Vitya could feel Monty quivering. "Shh, shhh," he shushed in Monty's ear, slowly starting to pull his waistband down. "You're almost done, look," Vitya motioned to the food in the pan, cooking away. Vitya's hand coiled around Monty's cock, finally freeing it of it's cloth cage, and with an agonizing slow pace, his hand slid up Monty's shaft. "So hard for me, and waiting so patiently... Can you wait till after I eat? Just a little bit longer, for my mouth on your aching cock?"

The way Monty was shivering had Vitya's head going wild. All the things he wanted to do to the other man became possible realities, and not just his sick, twisted fantasies. And Vitya, being a man of unsound mind, grew a devilish look on his face. "If you wait, like a sweet, good little boy, then I'll fuck you, too," he whispered, his free hand slowly sliding down the back of Monty's jeans.

He made sure to give every opportunity for Monty to stop him, in case this was too far. "Would you like that? Would my good boy wait for my cock in his ass? Will he?..."

MONTY

Monty groaned, rubbing a hand through his hair. "Fine man, whatever." He groused. Vitya was being rather stubborn tonight and as annoying as he found it, he was rather impressed with his determination and pride. Maybe Vitya would find it in himself to apply those trait to his will to live. Monty could only hope.

Monty felt as though he was quite literally losing his mind the way Vitya was teasing him. It was almost painful. He' never felt need this intense before. It was driving him wild. The praise was doing something he had never experienced before and it was maddening yet wonderful. Part of him wanted to snap and make Vitya stop talking to him like he was a kid but a far louder part of his mind was screaming for more and had fire coursing through his veins.

"Feels so good" Monty moaned when Vitya's finally touched his hard cock. It felt so much better than rubbing through his boxers even it was torturously slow. Monty bit his lip, trying his best not to let any more of those pathetic sounds out but it was a fruitless effort when Vitya began talking again. He should have hated it but he couldn't.

The dirty talk was something that should have reminded Monty of Schuyler, because it always had before now and would inevitably lead him to trying to shut the mouth of whoever he was fucking or make them leave all together, even if he did give himself blue-balls in the process. But right now there was no room in his mind for Schuy, he was completely consumed by Vitya.

Monty's body began to sing at the thought of Vitya fucking him. It had been so long since Mont had bottomed and it made him moan deep and loud, so loud that if it wasn't summer break they'd have neighbours banging on the walls to try to quieten them. "Yes, yes, fuck me, I'll do anything, please fuck me." He mewled, pushing his ass back against the hand moving over it. The word my had come from Vitya's mouth and served to make Monty evenmore desperate. The food was completely forgotten to him.

VITYA

“Yeah? Feels good?”Vitya asked, rhetorically. The shake of Monty’s body gave him all the clues he needed, every whimper a sign that Monty was enthralled with all of this. In fact, Vitya was, too. Most clients would pop in, pop out, end of story. Monty was unraveling at his touch, giving Vitya a burning passion in his gut.

Monty’s sudden moan, his cry of desperation, his begging to be fucked; Vitya nearly did it right there. His ass pushing back against him made Vitya growl in his ear, looking down at the hot stove, then back at Monty. “Fuck it,” Vitya said, turning the stove top off and making Monty put the cooking utensils. His hand was on Monty’s cock, stroking at a fast pace to keep his attention, the other hand coming around to hold Monty‘s chest.

“Listen to me. When I let you go, walk to the bedroom and strip. Get on the bed and wait for me. You can touch yourself, finger yourself, but if you come before I am inside you... Well, you’d be a bad boy. And you want to be a good boy, right?” Vitya spoke slowly. Normally he doesn’t get turned on by his own talk, but this was every fantasy he had been having about Monty since he left two days ago!

He stopped his stroking of Monty’s cock, spinning his finger around the head. He have Monty a few seconds before letting him go. Vitya turned his attention to the forgotten sandwich, deciding to leave it for now and grab an apple out of the fridge. The moment he was done with this was the moment he would follow Monty.

FADE TO BLACK

#para; monty

1 note · View note

littlemissnellie · 5 years

Photo

i’m so unbelievably late to the party with this but i’m going to blame that on being ill and dumb revision. but i’m past all that now and i still wanted to do this because it’s not often that i get tagged in fun things like this, so i like to make the most out of it when i do. and i feel like it’s still early enough in the year for it to be acceptable, so here we go!

first, i got tagged by the ever-wonderful @smallcowplant to share my simblr goals for 2020. thank you, sam! i thought this was such a fun little thing and hopefully if i actually set myself these goals, i’ll be motivated to stick to them and work on productive things instead of just floating around and procrastinating. so, i’m not going to be super ambitious because lord knows i’m not capable of much when it comes to simblr, but i’m going to set myself three goels; i feel like three is attainable. so my goals for this year are:

finish the townie makeovers that i started on a whim

start posting my next story

keep spreading kindness and giving encouragements to my favourite blogs

and then i was lucky enough to be tagged in a different post, this time by the lovely @justkeeponsimming ! i mean, she tagged my main blog, @eleanorjtumbles , because i made the incredibly dumb smart decision to make my simblr a side blog so all my notifications are for that blog, but i wanted to do it nonetheless, so here we are on my sims blog! she tagged me to do the simblr 2020 wish list tag thing and again, i thought it was too fun to pass up on, so i thought that i’d squash it into this post so that i’m not awkwardly late twice. thank you so much for the tag, rae! it’s nice to know that you notice my username in all your notifications :)

rules: this tag is simple and is only of course for simmers! another full year of content is sure to hit the sims 4 and I wonder what everyone wants from the sims team and ea this year? especially since all of the usual packs are out of the way…I did this tag a few years ago and it sort of caught on so I’m happy to try it again! the rules are simple! just say what you’d like to see for the sims 4!

free update: i think it’s a bit of a long shot, but maybe pre-teens? i mean, they did it with toddlers, but i think there was more of a need for that with how bland they made babies. i just think that there��s a really big jump from children to teens, which is a bit awkward for storytellers. they go from looking like nine to looking seventeen so personally i’d love an in-between stage with some middle school drama and awkward phases.

stuff pack: i know this is probably pretty niche but i think that a retro pack could be quite fun. maybe sort of like that arcade pack option from the first community stuff pack idea vote. i just feel like big arcade machines, a little handheld gameboy/ds thing and chopper bikes (especially now that we have bikes from discover university) could be so fun in game. even just little things like kids being able to make friendship bracelets or play with walkie talkies too. plus i feel like it could have some pretty cool build/buy and cas items. but that might just be me lol.

game pack: i really want more activities. mainly for children and teens, but elders too! i know we're getting knitting but what about like cross-stitching or pottery or doing jigsaw puzzles or reading the newspaper and doing the crosswords? and i want more things for kids and teens to do. i want more after school clubs and skills and activities just for them. i want to be able to send them to dance class, or a sports club like football or baseball or something. i want them to be cheerleaders, or join the school choir, or the school newspaper or be a part of the student council. and what about skateboarding? that could be so fun. and more instruments too, like a drum kit or an electric guitar. i just feel like they could do so much more for the kids and teens and parenthood was such a good start but i want moooooore.

expansion pack: i'd really like to see a vacation-themed pack. i know there's selvadorada and granite falls, but i want a proper resort with a big hotel and scheduled activities and an all-day all-inclusive buffet. island living gave us a beach destination so i don't really know what the setting would be because i always pictured it as a tropical resort, but i think it could still be a really fun idea. maybe with all the talk of the snow-themed activities in the latest poll they could make it into a type of ski chalet? and the pack could have skiing and snowboarding and other fun winter sports type things and a nice fancy mountain resort to stay at. but idk, i just sort of want a pack to give more options and activities for vacations. like being able to book them in advance and then look forward to them. and being able to buy cute souvenirs or try foods that you can only get at that destination. oooh and maybe get special honeymoon or family vacation features, like unique activities to do or something? i feel like that could be fun, right?

the sims 5? i don't think we'll be getting it this year and tbh i'm not really interested in getting it. i'm pretty content with the sims 4 and i feel like they could just keep expanding on this for now. i don't think they need to be starting from scratch again and putting out the bare bones of a game, i'd rather just stick with what we've got, thank you very much.

okay, that took way longer than anticipated but idk why because i should have known that i’d ramble my ass off. but that was a lot of fun to do, so thank you again for the tags! if i hadn’t taken so long to do this then i’d probably tag a few people but i feel like that’s just a bit lame now. if you fancy sharing your thoughts on this stuff though then please tag me because i’d love to read what you have to say about your goals or wish lists for the year! anyway, i think that’s all for now. i’ll be back with some more townie makeovers soon! and if you’ve made it this far into the post, i admire your perseverence and i love you.

#simblr 2020 goals #sims 4 2020 wish list #littlemissnellie tag

6 notes · View notes

artificialqueens · 5 years

Text

Gloxalias and other ways to say I love you (branjie) - writworm42

A/N: Brooke works in a hospital gift shop. Vanessa is the mom of a young cancer patient who really loves flowers. It’s no match made in Heaven, but they might just be able to create their own.

This fic has the potential to be hugely, massively triggering. There’s grief, mentions of death, descriptions of anxiety, and explicit content to do with childhood cancer, surgery, and there’s a lot of medical content. PLEASE take care of yourselves.

Thank you Holtz for beta-ing this and for being a wonderful human. Also thank you to all the folks on AO3 who shared their stories with me. The responses from everyone who’ve been touched by cancer in some way have been truly humbling, and I hope readers here on AQ will find it resonates with them too.

The first time Brooke sees Vanessa, she’s combing through the hospital gift shop looking for flowers.

“Are you sure your unit allows flowers?” Brooke asks when the woman reaches the counter with an armful of daisies.

“Oh, um… No.” she looks taken aback by the question, like it was one she’s never considered. “You even allowed to ask me that? Consternationality an’ all that?”

Brooke is unable to keep herself from cracking a little smile. “Nah, confidentiality only applies to doctors. I’m just a lowly cashier,” she sighs with a fake forelorness that makes the other woman laugh, a loud, scratchy bark that makes everyone within fifty feet of the gift shop turn around in alarm.

Brooke thinks it’s infectious.

“Seriously though, mama, I ain’t actually sure.” the woman shrugs after they both finally calm down. “You know if the pod—peda—pom—the kids’ ward lets people have flowers? My kid loves ‘em.”

Brooke doesn’t, and she tells the woman so. For a moment, from the way the bright, lively twinkle in the woman’s eyes dies down a little, Brooke is afraid the woman might start to cry, or even yell. She’s seen it before; distraught family members upset at the exorbitant pricing of stuffed animals or the fact that their loved one’s favourite snack isn’t available taking it out on her, screaming until their voices are hoarse and their rage is subdued by a peace offering of a free purchase of any one item they want. Brooke isn’t supposed to do it, but it saves her jugular, and she can get the desperation and pent-up grief they’re feeling.

She’s about to offer the same consolation prize to this woman when the woman collects herself unexpectedly, letting out a sigh as her face smooths over into something that’s almost a smile.

“Alright, Mary. I’ll check with the nurse and come back if I can.”

“Brooke.” Brooke says, almost inaudibly, as the woman turns to leave.

“Huh?” the woman turns around, a confused frown knitting itself onto her face.

“Brooke. Not Mary. My name’s Brooke.” She blushes the minute the words are out of her mouth, realizing how nitpicky and stupid she must sound. But if the woman thinks so, she doesn’t show it; in fact, she smiles brightly, the sparkle returning to her eyes as she laughs again, making Brooke relax and laugh a little, too.

“Alright then, miss Brooke-not-Mary. See you soon as the nurses tell me I can come back down and pick up these flowers.”

“Alright then,” Brooke nods, an inexplicable thread of hope weaving through her chest, “See you around…”

“Vanessa. But my friends call me Vanjie.”

—

Vanessa comes back down a few days later, a triumphant smile spread across her face as she marches straight up to the counter.

“Guess who can buy flowers, bitch!”

Brooke looks up from the stolen magazine she’s not supposed to be reading and grins.

“I was hoping you’d come back.”

Vanessa arches a brow. “You flirtin’ with me, Mary?”

Brooke almost chokes on her tongue.

“I’m—no, I’m so sorry, I’m not—“

“Relax,” Vanessa chuckles, raising her hands in mock surrender. “I’m just jokin’, I ain’t mean nothin’.”

Brooke can’t figure out why she feels a little disappointed at the words, nor why Vanessa’s voice seems to hold the same feeling.

Or maybe she’s just imagining it.

Nonetheless, Vanessa circles the flower section for about five minutes before returning to Brooke with the same armful of daisies she had picked out yesterday. Only this time, there are twice the amount, such that the brunette’s face is almost completely hidden behind their petals.

“You good?” Brooke laughs as Vanessa drops the flowers onto the counter with a huff.

“Just ring ‘em up, mama.” Vanessa rolls her eyes, but she can’t hide the little smile she’s clearly trying not to crack.

Brooke starts to do just that, and soon the only sound that fills the room is the rhythmic beeping of her scanner.

—

“So… your kid really likes daisies, huh?” Brooke ventures the next day, when Vanessa was back with the same armful of flowers. The younger woman just blinks.

“I mean, they like most kinds of ‘em, I just don’t wanna fuck up, y’know? I been reading up on all that petal-talk shit, I ain’t want to get them somethin’ that means divorce when I’m tryna make them feel better. I know daisy means happy shit, so that’s what imma stick to.”

Brooke’s heart softens. She’s been working at the gift shop for about five years now, and she’s seen countless parents blow through looking for something to either get their kids or pass the time while trying not to worry about them. She’s never met a mother so hung up on details that she’d worry right down to the hidden meanings of the flowers she’s buying. It’s downright adorable, and even though she probably shouldn’t, she can’t help but get involved.

“Y’know, I used to be into flower language myself.” She shifts on her feet, suddenly acutely aware of how her suggestion could be taken. And, just as she feared, Vanessa laughs.

“There you go, flirtin’ with me again.” Vanessa winks, still giggling as she watches Brooke’s face go crimson. “Tell you what, I gotta go ‘cause my kid’s got an MRI, but imma be back tomorrow, an’ you can teach me all about that daisy tulip pussyfoot mumble-jumble. Sound good?”

“Sounds good.” Brooke smiles.

For some reason, even after she gets home that night, her body is still buzzing with nerves and something that feels suspiciously like excitement.

—

As it turns out, Vanessa isn’t just back the next day—she’s back the day after that, and the day after that, and so on for the rest of the week. At first, they stick to flowers; Brooke runs through every plant in the gift shop’s small collection, rattling off any fact she thinks Vanessa might find interesting.

“You know, even though tulips are commonplace now, in the 1600s, these things were actually more valuable than gold in the Netherlands. Isn’t that wild?”

“I actually read that the juice from bluebell flowers can be used to make glue. See how sticky it is?”

“Orchids are actually my favourite flowers–Did you know that they don’t even need soil to grow? They can get nutrients from the air!”

Vanessa always listens with intent, nodding and smiling in a way that Brooke can tell shows she’s genuinely interested.

Slowly, they get to talking more, Vanessa hanging by the counter long after she’s traded a creased wad of fives for a new vase or packets of plant food. Sometimes, she doesn’t buy anything at all, only stands across from Brooke, or drags her over to the flower section to talk, the perfumy smell of pollen tickling at their noses as they trade snippets of their life stories.

Vanessa is a fashion designer who works part-time for a swimsuit company, part-time on her own small business designing adaptive clothing for disabled people of all ages. Vanessa’s kid, Frances, is twelve years old and loves soccer, flowers, and their pet frog, Bertha. They’re in the seventh grade but doing math at a grade eight level, and they had come out as non-binary when they were ten, the same year they were diagnosed with a tumour lodged in their occipital lobe. Vanessa and Frances were Catholic, and even though cancer, transness, and faith were difficult to reconcile, the chaplain at the hospital was fearless and the two of them had managed.

Vanessa had been married before, but he had died of the same illness that Frances is struggling with now, long before Frances even knew him. They don’t remember him now, and for that, Vanessa is grateful.

“I still haven’t told them,” Vanessa shrugs through a noseful of baby’s breath. “I don’t want them thinkin’ that they’re goin’ the same way. It’s been two years now an’ the cancer’s gonna be gone after this last round of chemo and then their resection, I can feel it. I don’t want them worryin’ about how their daddy didn’t get the same chance.”

Vanessa leaves that day with an armful of violet chrysanthemums and a weight lifted off her shoulders.

–

“I can’t tell you how nice it is you don’t pity me.” Vanessa says the next day.

“Mm, what do you mean?” Brooke frowns as she deadheads a pot of violets that nobody’s buying.

“I can tell. Whenever I tell people it’s my kid I’m here for, they get all sappy, an’ tell me they’ll pray for me. An’ it’s nice and all, but it gets old real quick, you know what I’m saying?”

Brooke does. She’s seen it too many times before not to. It’s one of the reasons only she works at the gift shop now; other than the fact that it’s stocked by a rotating parade of high schoolers and a few well-intentioned volunteers on her days off, she’s the only person who’s ever been able to shut that pity off. Most of the time, it’s a survival mechanism.

With Vanessa, though, it comes easier than that.

“You don’t need my pity.” Brooke shrugs. “You need this pot of violets more.” she kicks the massive pot over to where Vanessa is kneeling, and relishes in the barking laugh that follows.

Everyone in the lobby hears Vanessa’s laugh so often now that no one turns snaps to attention at its melody anymore.

And as for Brooke, it’s become one of her favourite sounds.

–

The date of Frances’ resection approaches far too quickly, and the closer it gets, the more Vanessa asks to hear about Brooke’s life.

“Well, what do you want to know?” Brooke passes the illegally-opened bag of maltesers that she and Vanessa have been sharing into the smaller woman’s hands.

“I dunno.” Vanessa wiggles on Brooke’s stool, a spare volunteer vest that’s far too big for her framing her hunched-over form. She’s not supposed to be wearing it, not even supposed to be behind the counter, but at this point, nobody would know the difference, and Vanessa needs the shelter. “Tell me how you got into flowers, an’ how come you ain’t a florist.”

“I am one, technically.” Brooke pops another malteser into her mouth and chews casually. “It’s just hard to get work in a flower shop these days. I’d save up to open my own, but…”

“This job ain’t pay well.” Vanessa nods. “I can tell you kinda like it here, though.”

Brooke shrugs. “Some people collect stuffed animals, I collect stories.”

Vanessa looks at her with an expression she can’t quite decipher, but dares to hope means something good. Her hopes are realized when Vanessa’s face smooths out, her voice suddenly gentle.

“I bet you got lots of interesting stories yourself, huh, miss Brooke?”

Brooke can feel her face grow hot, and hopes to God she doesn’t look as flustered as she feels. Taking a deep breath and pulling herself together, she forces out a joke. “Wow, now who’s flirting with me?”

Vanessa arches an eyebrow, but doesn’t protest. In fact, she only hums as she pops the last malteser in her mouth, gets up, and walks away, a swing in her hips, twinkle in her eye, and stolen volunteer vest still hanging off her shoulders.

–

“Tell me more about you.”

Brooke is locking up the shop when she hears the telltale scratch of Vanessa’s voice behind her.

“Oh, hey.” she smiles reflexively, the muscles in her face so used to stretching into a grin when Vanessa’s around now that it feels second-nature. “I’m actually just about to close–”

“I’m not tryna buy anything.” Vanessa shakes her head. “I wanna… I just… Please. The third floor Tim’s is twenty-four hours, let me buy you a coffee or somethin’.”

The realization hits Brooke in the chest before she can feel any sort of celebration at the suggestion.

It’s April twenty-fourth.

The evening before Frances’ surgery.

“Okay.” Brooke nods, “Let’s go get coffee.”

–

Brooke can tell that Vanessa doesn’t drink coffee much from the way her hands start to shake about halfway through her first large triple-triple. Or maybe she’s just that nervous; either way, when Brooke offers her hand, Vanessa takes it without hesitation.

Their fingers knit together almost too comfortably, and Brooke pretends not to notice Vanessa’s blush as the warmth of Brooke’s hand connects with the cold sweat against her own.

It’s just a comfort gesture, Brooke tells herself, but from the way Vanessa grips back, soft and natural and like her hand has found its way home, she’s not sure she believes it.

They talk for hours, bouncing from topics like Brooke’s favourite childhood TV shows to how she used to dance to her top five role models. At some point, they run out of things to talk about, but rather than settle into silence, they lapse into a spontaneous game of truth or dare, letting swigs of even more coffee keep score as they trade escalating challenges between one another.

At first, the questions and dares are innocent enough. Vanessa asks Brooke her favourite hockey team, Brooke dares Vanessa to try to throw a balled-up napkin into the trash from her seat at the table. At some point, though, when they’re both full up on coffee and their box of forty timbits is running low, things take a different turn.

“Truth.” Brooke nibbles on one of the last sourcream glazed in the box, watching Vanessa intently. She’s expecting another commonplace question, something boring and by-the-book, but then Vanessa pauses, chewing her lip.

“What is it, Ness?” Brooke prompts. Vanessa exhales deeply in response.

“Are you single right now?” Brooke’s heart stops as Vanessa spits out the question, her eyes locked on Brooke’s face and anxiously searching for an answer in her expression.

It’s nothing; it’s probably nothing. Vanessa’s just trying to make conversation, that’s all. Their connection, their jokes about flirting, Vanessa’s hand still stuck intertwined with Brooke’s–it’s all just two women brought together by an unfortunate circumstance, two women who have become friends, no matter how much Brooke wants it to be more. Vanessa’s different. Vanessa doesn’t want the same thing as Brooke. She can’t want the same thing as Brooke. She’s a mom, an amazing, fearless, talented working mom, and Brooke runs a hospital gift shop. Vanessa is fierce and passionate, and Brooke sells flowers and candy while watching her life go by. There’s no way Vanessa is asking for the reason Brooke wants her to be. Brooke shouldn’t get her hopes up.

She can’t help but get her hopes up as she answers with a quiet, hopeful, “Yeah. I’m single. Yeah.”

She can’t help but have her hopes melt into relief when Vanessa smiles.

“Your turn.” Vanessa’s grip tightens on Brooke’s hand, and the sparkle in her eyes, that beautiful fucking sparkle that always seems to feel like it’s just for Brooke, is somehow incredibly reassuring. Encouraging.

Almost like a dare.

Brooke takes a deep breath, and then she takes a chance.

“Truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

“Why do you want to know if I’m single or not?”

There’s a beat, and Brooke falters, an apology readying itself on her tongue. Before she can completely lose her nerve, though, Vanessa stands up, and then she’s crossing around the table, walking towards Brooke, and then she’s leaning down, she’s leaning down with her hands cradling Brooke’s face, and–

Oh.

Brooke’s eyes flutter closed as she leans into the kiss, her thoughts fading away as everything becomes focused on the feeling of Vanessa’s lips against hers, soft and wanting and tinged with the bitter taste of dark roast that’s been mixed with too much sugar. And when Brooke kisses back, Vanessa sighs just a little, her thumb instinctively moving forward to stroke against Brooke’s cheek, and Brooke finds herself wishing that the moment will last forever.

But eventually they separate, and even when they do, Brooke is still buzzing with nerves and happiness and, most of all, relief. Relief that Vanessa likes her, that Vanessa likes her back , likes her back enough to kiss her. Relief that she’s not the only one that the kiss left absolutely breathless, and that she has the foresight to push back a little in her chair so that Vanessa can collapse onto her lap, relaxing against Brooke’s still-pounding heart.

Relief that not a moment later, Vanessa kisses her again.

“Wow.” Brooke mutters against Vanessa’s lips.

Vanessa’s mouth is too busy to answer back.

Brooke doesn’t leave the hospital that night–they’re too busy talking, giggling, and kissing some more, the weight of Vanessa’s body on top of Brooke’s keeping her awake and content until dawn.

–

Vanessa comes in a little later than usual that morning, but when she does, she’s not alone.

“You must be Frances!” Brooke exclaims as she bounds towards a little kid whose arm is interlocked with Vanessa’s, the hospital gown and cover-up robe they’re wearing billowing around them and almost sloping onto the white cane they hold in front of themselves. “I’m Brooke, I work here at the gift shop. I’m a friend of your mom’s.”

“No you’re not,” Frances smiles wryly in an expression that looks remarkably like their mother’s, “You two kissed last night, my mom told me.”

“Okay, that’s enough!” Vanessa blushes deep red as she shushes her child, “Brooke, we came by to see the flowers before Frances’ surgery.”

“I came to meet you, too, but the flowers are a good bonus.” Frances adds, and this time, Vanessa joins in the laughter.

“You’re just like your mom, you know that?” Brooke jokes, sticking her tongue out at Vanessa when she gets a silently-mouthed fuck off in response.

But still, Vanessa is smiling, and Brooke’s heart picks up a few beats.

Vanessa told Frances about Brooke.

And Frances is eager to meet her.

“Okay, well, if I swap places with your mom, I can take you to where the flowers are.” The minute Brooke suggests it, she’s seized with anxiety–what if that’s too much too soon, and she breaks the budding camaraderie between herself and Frances? What if Vanessa hates her because of it?–but Frances only smiles and starts to wriggle free from their mom’s grip.

“Sounds good.”

Within a few moments, Frances is leaning down to trace their hands over the petals, leaves, and stems of the plants around themselves, breathing in their smell and rattling off theories as to which plant is which.

“Okay, this is definitely a rose.” they say matter of factly, carefully tracing their fingers along the flower’s thorns so as not to prick themselves.

“Did you know that the world’s oldest rose is 1000 years old?” Brooke leans down, tentatively placing a hand on Frances’ shoulder and sighing with relief when the child doesn’t shrink away. Instead, they grab a handful of the flowers perched next to the roses and shove them excitedly into Brooke’s face.

“Carnations.” they state proudly, and Brooke smiles. Before she can tell Frances that they’re absolutely correct, though, a voice from behind them drags both their attention away.

“There’s a legend that says when the Virgin Mary cried at Jesus’ crucifixion, carnations sprung up where her tears fell.” Vanessa cuts in. “What?” she cries indignantly when the other two look at her in surprise, “Y’all hoes ain’t the only ones who can use google.”

They continue to pass the time like this until an alarm goes off on Vanessa’s phone, and the air in the room changes.

“We gotta go get you prepped, baby.” Vanessa’s voice is soft, and Frances’ mood is sober.

Brooke has seen this before; families seeing their loved ones off, spending time cruising the magazine racks instead of sitting in the waiting room worrying, not knowing if their husband or daughter or best friend will come back. Those moments are always the hardest for Brooke, the times when her sense of empathy leaks out just a little too much for her not to feel affected even a little bit.

Somehow, even though she’s only just met them, it hurts even more knowing that it’s Frances.

“Hey, good luck today, okay?” Brooke helps Frances up and wraps them in a friendly hug. To her surprise though, Frances only shrugs as they pull away.

“I’ve been through this surgery once before. My mom says this is gonna be the last one, she can feel it. I can feel it too.”

Brooke thinks about that long after Frances and Vanessa go, planting one long, calming kiss on Vanessa’s lips before the two retreat back up to the pediatric floor.

–

Brooke isn’t supposed to leave the giftshop unattended by whatever disaffected sixteen-year-old volunteer she’s working with that day, but no one really ever checks up on her anyway. Besides, being by Vanessa’s side is more important right now; so she tells the teenager restocking stuffed animals that she’ll be back before leaving with a bag of maltesers and huge stuffed frog under her arm.

She finds Vanessa in the chapel, sitting on a pew with a rosary in her hands, the beads clinking as she runs them through her fingers nervously.

They sit together for a while, saying nothing, Vanessa leaning over to rest her head on Brooke’s shoulder and Brooke hugging her close, humming the closest thing to a hymn she knows under her breath.

Later on, Vanessa will tease Brooke for thinking of ‘Always With Me’ from Spirited Away as spiritual, but right then, from the way she closes her eyes and breathes into the melody, Brooke thinks that Vanessa might just think of the song in the same way.

–

Brooke visits Frances the day after their surgery while they’re in the pediatric ICU, fading in and out of sleep.

The nurse lets Brooke and Vanessa know that they can’t bring flowers into Frances’ room, not while they were still at risk of infection, but after some fierce negotiation, they reach a compromise, and Frances snuggles happily into the frog’s overstuffed side as Brooke reads to them from a book about gardenias.

–

Two years later

“Babe, come on! ” Brooke calls upstairs to Vanessa, who crashes about in response.

“I NEED TO FIND MY EARRINGS! FRANCES, HAVE YOU SEEN MY EARRINGS?”

“No, mami, I haven’t seen anything in four years!” Frances calls back sarcastically, and Brooke has to stop herself from cackling when Vanessa answers back with a string of threats to whoop Frances’ disrespectful ass. But the rant doesn’t stop Frances from beginning to laugh too, their chin-length brown waves shaking as they double forward, lost in giggles.

Not for the first time, it strikes Brooke just how much Frances looks like their mother.

Eventually, Vanessa does stomp downstairs, rolling her eyes but smiling despite herself as she fixes her earrings into their place on her lobes.

“Can’t believe we’re gonna be late for our own grand opening because of some Claire’s jewelry.” Brooke teases sarcastically.

“ Claire’s? Bitch, this shit is from Pandora, so don’t you dare–” But Vanessa’s indignation melts into begrudging forgiveness as Brooke pulls her close and smothers her in kisses.

“Alright, alright, kids, before I puke, let’s go open this shop.” Frances coughs with false irritation, moving briskly right through Brooke and Vanessa and breaking the two lovebirds apart.

“Yes, mom.” Brooke replies saccharinely, hooting with laughter when Frances responds with loud gagging noises.

Consisting of only one room, Hytes-Mateo Flower Emporium isn’t quite as grand as the name makes it out to be, but to Brooke, it feels like a palace as she roams between rows of planters, pots, and perennial blooms.

“I’m so proud of you, baby.” Vanessa comes up behind Brooke, leaning on her tiptoes to kiss Brooke on her cheek as she wraps her arms around Brooke’s waist. Just beside them, Frances reaches up to flip their sign from CLOSED to OPEN, and Brooke lets out a deep, contented breath as the waiting crowd of family and friends begins to trickle in.

Everything in the room has been two years in the making, and now, it feels like home.

#rpdr fanfiction #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #branjie #angst #lesbian au #hospital au #writworm42 #tw cancer #tw death mentions #tw surgery and medical content #tw grief

36 notes · View notes

tiredcowpoke · 5 years

Text

TITLE: Price of Travel [1] PAIRING: Undecided, Arthur/OC/Reader leaning. REQUEST: Unprompted. BLURB: Finding Francis Sinclair was supposed to be simple. She just had to gather what he had found and return back to the correct time, but Francis was suddenly a baby and his notes were about as understandable as child’s drawings. She wouldn’t have even found that out if it hadn’t been for a somewhat familiar looking cowboy. WARNINGS: Mentions of anxiety and panic, vomiting (referenced), blood, time travel nonsense. NOTE: I put a 1 there but I’m not 100% if I want to continue this into a full thing or not? If enough people want it, I guess? Also could be seen as a bit of a reader-insert due to the first person and me making the character’s appearance purposely vague outside of her being female. Anyway this is just a bit of a thing I had kicking around in my head.

LOG ONE – date unknown.

Well, everything they warned me about was true.

I'd heard it so many times that it stopped being an idea of a reality to me, just stuff to scare new employees off until...well, until they found more struggling collage students who needed money to pay off debts. Should I write that on company paper? I don't even know, things are bad enough as it is. The disorienting first day I've almost completely forgot, along with whole ones in between. Got sick. A lot. I think people were growing weary of me because of it, and I don't blame them. I bled from my nose a bit, something I wasn't expecting but they said the settling symptoms could be different from person to person. Some don't make it. Lucky me?

I don't know what DAY it is, but this is definitely my first log. My handwriting is sloppy because my hands are shaking. Everything is so much. Too much. I'm not exactly prone to anxiety, but this is enough to push me to almost panic at points. I'm in the past. The actual past. I mean, I'd been prepared for this for a couple years, went through the training, the mission statements, symptom management, and...well, I'm here. Here, alone, and scared. Found some fitting clothing and moved on to where I need to be. Strawberry? I do remember that. Francis Sinclair, too, however mostly in name.

Anyway, log one.

Mood: confused, lost, and getting pretty homesick. Never thought I'd miss a cellphone or a car so much, even if just for GPS.

Physical: Okay. Still a little sick, some sickness after sleeping or eating and the splitting headaches are dying down. On and off nosebleeds.

Mission: Still looking for Sinclair, heard he was in Strawberry but I haven't been able to ask around much yet.

Thoughts: I'm never doing this again.

Breakfast consisted of two apples I had picked up from the general store, having already sold a couple things that they had told me to. I thought it hadn't been much at first but with how the prices are, it held up better than I had been expecting. The apples, however, didn't sit too nicely. My stomach still liked to do flips and twist whenever I ate things, which was typical if I could remember correctly. It wasn't like I could ask a doctor here, though my luck in finding anything other than odd looks was proving to be a challenge. I still couldn't get anybody to tell me if they knew where Francis was—which put a pit of anxiety in my stomach the more that carried on. Really, I was only supposed to gather what he had found, maybe talk to him a bit, and then he'd be able to get me home.

At least, that's what they'd told me time and time again.

Almost over a week in this year and I felt like I was getting stuck, which was terrifying. I had no horse, no weapons, the idea of riding out into the woods scared the hell out of me. However, it was quickly becoming more apparent that might be the next step. I'd asked a couple random people around town, nobody seemed to know where or who he was. Still, he had to come down eventually, didn't he? Really, reason was constantly telling me that I wouldn't find him in Strawberry itself, but I couldn't help but hope I could force things my way. I really was getting a little desperate—the more the sun set at the end of each day, the longer I was going over the required stay time. They never talked to me about if things would happen if I stayed longer, but I was scared to find out.

Which, in turn, had me visiting the general store again for the third time that week. I wasn't alone, however, a man was standing over the counter, his head down as he flipped through the catalog there. I couldn't see his face, a worn looking black hat sitting on his head as he seemed to be looking over the pages with some focus. More notably, I noticed the guns hanging from his hips, what appeared to be a rifle slung over his back. However, I didn't get to linger on him too long as the shopkeeper glanced up at my entering, the irritation that flooded into his expression was almost comical if I hadn't been feeling at such a loss.

“Miss,” he greeted in a clipped tone as I lingered by a stand and glanced down at some of the candy there.

The sight made my stomach turn, in all honesty. Felt like I was dealing with the flu, the sight of food making me ill because of what I knew it would do. Breakfast had settled finally, and I was sure the anxiety wasn't helping. After a few moments, I felt a sigh rip itself from my lungs as I walked toward the front counter as the man in front of it pointed at a couple items.

“I-I know I've asked this already, and I'm terribly sorry for it, but—“

“Miss, I don't know how many times I have to say I don't know a...Francis Sinclair. My answer ain't changed since you asked a day ago.”

“I know. I know, I'm...I'm sorry. Just...was there anybody who came through here acting strange? Weird clothing or...words?”

“I see a lot of strange folk. Lots of strange clothing or manner of talkin'. I ain't seen your man. Now, last time, you have to buy somethin' or I'm gonna have to ask you to leave again.”

“I...fine, fine. I'm sorry to disturb you again. Just, if you—“

“—Francis Sinclair?”

The gruff voice caused me to jump slightly, coming from beside me as it seemed the man flipping through the book had suddenly tuned into the conversation. I was met with a quizzical stare by a pair of eyes that had the strangest color to them, a gloved hand resting against the top of the closed catalog as he seemed to look me over. He seemed...familiar, somehow, but...well, I couldn't place him. At the same time, he also just looked like Mister Cowboy Man, so the thought wasn’t doing me any good. Still, his response had some hope filtering into my chest as I straightened up, meeting his gaze.

“You know him?”

He let out a huff, glancing at the shopkeeper who appeared to be gathering what he'd asked for, but I could tell he was listening in. How could he not be?

“In a way, though I ain't so sure no more.”

“What?”

“Sir,” the man behind the counter butted in, handing him a couple cans of food and a bottle of alcohol that the gruff looking man took from him with a nod. I lingered for a moment, somehow more confused about the conversation than when I had originally started, but ended up following the man outside against my better judgment.

Really, if this was my ticket out of here, I'd take feeling like I was being desperate over being stuck here. He seemed to pause as he noticed me following, casting me a somewhat annoyed look—like he hadn't inserted himself into the conversation in the first place, but at least he stopped as I repeated my question. Any sort of answer would help me, even if it was a crumb of hope. It was better than the pile of nothing I currently had.

“He was just some odd feller out in the woods, talked real strange...” he explained, gesturing down toward the path leading up into the mountain with his free arm, “Asked me to find some sort of...rock carvin's.”

Rock carvings? That was the first I heard of that. I could feel pressure in my face with how tight my brow was, a deep frown settling as I glanced toward where he had pointed. Though, something gave me pause—was? He was?

“Is he...still there now?” I asked, glancing back toward him as the man shrugged his shoulders. Considering how he talked about him, I was afraid of the answer.

“I...I ain't sure? At least...well, no way to explain this without soundin' crazy, but...well, when I returned after I'd gotten the locations for those rocks, he...he weren't what he was before.”

“This...okay,” I muttered as I pressed a hand against my forehead. Well...maybe I didn't need Francis. Could look over his words or rocks or whatever he was looking for here, note it down in the book and maybe he had some details to get back home. That really was my only hope at that point. With a sigh, I pressed a shaking hand to my mouth.

This wasn't over. If anything, it was better than what I had gathered in the last week.

“Could you...I hate to ask, but could you take me to where you last saw him?”

“Miss, I ain't—”

“I've been looking for him all week, mister. Please. I don't have much on me as it is, but money's no use to me. I can pay. I can give all I have on me if that's what it takes.”

“You really this desperate to find him? I hate to tell you, but you're gonna be disappointed.”

“It's better than what I have.”

Really and truly. I watched as he seemed to mull that over—I knew it was a lot, and I'd met this man not even a couple minutes ago. He could end up taking me out into the woods and shooting me, but I needed this. Needed something. Though I found my attention returning as a sigh fell from his lips, ducking his head down as his hat shielded me from the expression on his face before he glanced back up.

“You have a horse?”

“No.”

“'Course you don't...” he muttered under his breath, “Well, guess you can ride with me until we get there. Though, I'm tellin' you, it ain't worth really lookin' at. I ain't been able to make sense of it for days now.”

“Thank you,” I returned, the relief in my voice almost surprising me, “Whatever is there, it's better than what I got...”

He nodded, gesturing I follow as he started to cross the street toward the hotel. Two horses were hitched out front, though it appeared he was headed toward the bigger one as I stumbled and half jogged to catch up. I couldn't help but feel my limbs shaking slightly from anticipation. A flood of anxiety, too. I really just wanted to get back home, more than anything. I had never been too prone to homesickness, but this? It was nothing like I'd ever experienced before and I couldn't seem to balance the awe with my terror at points.

The man I was following pulled himself up rather effortlessly into the saddle, glancing down at me once he had settled as I stared up at him. Finally, he seemed to get the hint, extending a hand down as I attempted to pull myself up onto the animal before. It took some strength, but I had pulled myself up to be sitting sideways behind him on the horse, letting out a sigh of my own as I glanced around myself. Though, I found my hands flying to the man's sides as he steered the horse away from the post, not used to the movement. He stiffed a bit under my tight grip, turning his head over his shoulder somewhat as I made sure I wasn't going to fall off. Though, his voice sounded more amused than offended.

“You ever been on a horse before?”

“No, not like this. Never had to...well...” Just shut up.

“...No offense, miss, but you might be one of the more stranger folks I've met today...” he muttered as he spurred his horse on down toward the wooden bridge, a chuckle escaping me despite myself. Was probably the first time I'd let out any sort of laugh in a week.

“I get that a lot.”

Riding out into the woods didn't do much for my mood, despite not being alone. The man I was riding with at least had the means to defend himself against any animal that could want to eat us. Yet, really, the ride wasn't too far out from town. Maybe I wasn't wrong in thinking Francis could have stopped in there, but...well, I didn't know what he looked like, sounded like, or anything outside of the fact that I needed to find him. That he was like me. The notion of being a time traveler frightened me a bit, but that was a truth of the matter.

“So why did you want to find this feller so much?”

The voice cut into my thoughts, pulled me from going too far down a path I wasn't sure I wanted to go down just yet. This was all so confusing and the idea that he wasn't there anymore...well, I couldn't count out the fact that his information could be all I needed to get home. If he even left that behind.

“Was he your...husband? Brother?”

“Oh, uh, no,” I replied, shaking my head slightly, “We, uh...well, we work together, I guess? In a way? I was told I could find him out here, that he'd answer some questions.”

“Well...I already told you what I think 'bout that. Just...don't hold your breath.”

“Hope's not a terrible thing to have, mister. Especially in a situation like this.”

“You stranded?” he asked, my eyebrows raising slightly at the question. There was a twist to my gut—he wasn't wrong, in a way. If I didn't find him, couldn't find him...well, I could be stuck. Stranded. It was possibly the worst thought I could have but it was a common one. Had it almost every night the past week.

“We'll see, I guess...” I muttered, my voice not really carrying over the sound of hoof beats against the ground and the horse panting as we rode.

We eventually turned off a patch of road into some wilderness, not having to wander too far before a small house came into view. It was rustic and old, a pair of antlers hanging over the door. At least, it was old to me, as most of the buildings appeared to be. I was far away from the skyscrapers and paved roads. Would have been nice if I could actually relax and not have to think about the fact that I'm able to see this at all. The man pulled his horse to a stop in front of it as I took it in. It looked...dark, not quite lived in. From the outside, anyway. It wasn't a good sign, but then again most places looked like this.

“Is this it?” I asked, the man giving a nod before I slipped off the horse.

I landed on the ground with a soft grunt, my ankles pinching in protest slightly but eventually I started to wander forward. Though, I wasn't expecting the man behind me to get out of his saddle and wander after me. I gave him a quick look over my shoulder, but paused before the steps as my heart started to beat hard in my chest. This had to work. I had been almost blessed with such blind luck at this point and, well, maybe it was all according to plan.

“Don't think anybody's home,” the man remarked, his voice much closer up behind me than I'd been expecting. I glanced at him over my shoulder for a moment before I nodded softly, letting out a sigh.

“Well, might as well see what's inside...” I muttered. It wasn't my house, I shouldn't have been entering without permission, but...well, at this point I just needed some sort of answer on how to get on the right path. Get home.

However, I wasn't really prepared for what I was greeted with inside. The door was unlocked, my hand lingering against the wood of it as I stopped after a step inside. The house was dark, the day being somewhat overcast, so it took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the darkness from the gray brightness outside. However, on the wall across from the door sat an almost mural of sorts. The wall littered with drawings of a man, wagons, the pyramids—if it was the same man or not, I had no clue. It was just confusing, my mind taking note of the portals he seemed to be stepping out of, but there was no indication on how to summon one. If that was even what I needed. There were papers everywhere, more drawings.

“Are these...are these the rock carvings you sent him?” I asked, turning slightly to glance back at the man with me as I managed to find my voice.

“Yeah, but if you can make sense of 'em...” he muttered, shifting about the cabin to pick an object off the kitchen table, seemingly more interested in that.

“Did you ever see him?”

“Yeah, the carvin's look like him,” he confirmed, glancing back up to meet my gaze before glancing at the drawings himself, “He sent me a letter. Said he was...travelin' soon, but didn't say where. Though, when I showed up here...can't make sense of it, but a woman showed up holdin' this baby. Same red hair, same birthmark. Said he was Francis.”

My stomach sunk almost painfully, a breath escaping me as I glanced back toward the drawings as his words took a moment to process in my head. A baby. Francis was a baby, but he'd been a man first? This man had seen him in the state I needed him to be in, and yet I was too late? Did this mean...?

“No...no, no, no...” The whispers came falling out as I started to wander, picking up random pieces of papers, looking them over. Nothing made sense, couldn't click. Couldn't make any sense of it. This...no, this wasn't supposed to happen. “He...he was supposed to be here...”

“Wish I could make some sense of that...” he muttered, his voice sounding somewhat distant in my ears as I looked back to the drawings on the walls. He had moved on, did he know I was coming? There was nothing marked for me to see, or to make sense of. No indication that he had any idea this would happen.

“He was supposed to take me home...” My voice sounded tiny in my ears, I could feel the burning behind my eyes as I exhaled a shaky breath. This wasn't happening. This wasn't supposed to happen. They had prepared me, it was supposed to be simple, and yet...oh, I never should have agreed to even...

“I...am real sorry 'bout that,” the man's voice registered in my head, the awkward comforting apology. I turned to glance back at him, surprised at how close he was. I jumped slightly, moving back from him as I wrapped an arm around myself.

I was stuck here. My worst fear. I had friends, I had family—they had assured that it would be fine while I was gone, not much would have changed once I got back, but...well, they hadn't prepared me for this. I could feel some panic starting to grip, my arms shaking hard as I couldn't seem to focus on one thing. I was stuck here. I was stuck. There was no way to get back home. Not...

Breathe. Need to breathe.

“You need to sit down? You don't look good...”

“I'm—I'm fine. I'm fine...just...” I needed to focus on something else. I glanced at him, more of the situation filtering into my head as I took in another breath. “I haven't paid you yet, I have I? I'm—I'm so sorry. Just...here. Here, take all of it.”

“I...don't worry 'bout it, keep your money,” he muttered with a sigh, seeming to look me over, “This ain't...this ain't what you were expectin'?”

“No, no. Not in the slightest,” I muttered, my voice thick as tears threatened to fall.

God, what a mess. What a damn mess. I couldn't very well ask a baby how I could bend time and space enough to get back to the right time period, if I could even find him in the first place.

“I...I kept you for so long, I'm sorry,” I continued, sniffling despite holding back the tears, “You can go, I'll just...”

“...In all honesty, miss, I feel like I'm kickin' a dog if I leave ya here...”

A let out a bitter laugh, rubbing at my eyes. “That's awfully nice, thank you.”

“You want to ride back to town? A train station?”

“I have no damn idea where to go...” I muttered, shaking my head, “This...this is it. This is what I came here for. I'm just...I have no idea what to do.”

There was a heavy pause after that as I felt my shoulders drop, my head tilting downwards as I stared down at the floorboards. As if I could look at them hard enough, look into the dirt, it would tell me the secrets I needed. I hadn't intended to stay in the cabin, but it had a bed. It had all the papers I needed, but...what use were they? Just drawings, scribbles... I heard the man with me shift somewhat as he sighed, my gaze moving from the floor up to his face as he covered his eyes with a hand, his head down turned as he muttered something under his breath.

“I...can't believe I'm sayin' this...” he sighed, glancing back up, “I know we just met, but...I'm campin' out here. Just for a few days, lookin' to hunt. I'm headin' down to Valentine after, if you...want to stay there or catch a train. Can't offer much, but...better than stayin' here. Can't even tell if people live here no more but...”

“I...” The words of protest seemed to die in my throat as I looked him over—there really was nothing here for me, not that I could use. It was probably the nicest offer I'd gotten since someone offered to buy me a meal when I had first shown up in Strawberry. “...Can I get your name, sir?”

“Arthur,” he replied, my head nodding in acknowledgment as I ran a hand over my mouth.

I really didn't want to be alone right now. It felt...needy, but with everything...well it was nice of him to offer his continued company. A small sigh escaped me as I quickly tried to remember what fake name I said I'd give—couldn't leave any record that I'd existed before my birth. Before my parents' births, even.

“Irene,” I muttered, the name still odd on my tongue but it was safe. “I...already took so much of your time, but...that sounds nice. Thank you. Just...let me gather some things here...”

#my writing.#this is long I hope that read-more works.#arthur morgan #original character #reader insert #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x oc #rdr fanfic

31 notes · View notes

showmetruecolors · 5 years

Text

Being a nurse during the COVID-19 Era.

I was a nursing student during the Ebola crisis where they taught us how to suit up and doff properly without being contaminated. It so happens that the hospital I was interning in at the time was planned to be the hospital in NY State that would take on the first Ebola case if it were ever to hit our state. They made it clear that if the case were to come to the hospital, the student nurses were to not even be on the same unit, and that they would move us. However, in cases of lack of assistance, they would need us to know how to properly enter and exit the room with the hazmat suit without providing contamination to ourselves and the environment.

I have also been a nurse the past almost four years during crazy and erratic flu hits. I have seen flu kill the terminally ill and the elderly. I have also seen the flu hit my coworkers pretty bad as a result of working in health care. Working overnights in a section of the emergency room, we always have flu patients and we are always prepared to a certain extent, how it would affect our patient once getting report.

But not with COVID.

As of two Saturdays ago, I am currently a part of one of the designated groups of nurses for COVID-19 for my hospital. I am on the float pool and they started by emptying out one of our main units to reserve them for COVID-19 rule-outs and positive patients. (Obviously the expansion of designated COVID units grew over a week...) There are cameras watching us every time we enter and exit a room and put on and off our PPE gown. With that, staff must sign (pretty much their life away) each time they enter or exit the room, by providing contact info, DOB, who watched us and their info, etc. This includes staff that also enter to pick up the garbage. Everyone in the hospital had to learn the steps of putting on and taking off the protective equipment. Not just nurses and doctors. At this point, it felt all hospitals were ready to respond to this clientele and the caseload.

At first I was so thrilled to be one of the COVID nurses and to be assigned on one of the COVID units. And then, came the first time another nurse and I actually had to gown up. Each time we gown up in the protective equipment, we must have another nurse on the other side of the glass watch us and check off a checklist of things we are doing. The purpose of this is to also catch any contamination to ourselves or the environment quickly. The first situation of us gowning up, I was actually the observer. Gowning up takes some time so after a few minutes of checking off the checkboxes, watching her, and giving her a thumbs up after every step, then comes the part of the eyewear which then caused me to look up at this nurse’s eyes. She had tears filling up her eyes , something I didn't notice while checking her method of donning her equipment, and her hands were shaking as she was placing the eyewear onto her face. She has a young child at home and she used to tell me about how she is also a caretaker for her parents. I wonder if this is what she was thinking of before entering the room. I heard rustling behind me and I turned around. Two evening administrators were there intensely watching from the distance almost unsure about walking near the door where we must stand to observe.

Later that evening when it was around the 3rd time I had to gown up to go to my own patient’s room, I went in the with PCA so he can assist me with closing the back of my gown as well as him getting comfortable coming in and out of the room per protocol. I looked up halfway through our gowning process, to see staff and admin watching us as well. Everyone had a look of fear in their eyes. I turned to look at the PCA who would not make eye contact and always had a strong demeanor when it came to things like codes, rapids, etc. He looked startled and like he didn’t want to talk about anything. At that moment I realized, we actually don’t know anything about what is behind those isolation doors once we enter. All we know is that it is airborne, we have only SOME information about the viral processes and the human body reaction, and that the human race can only receive oxygen in only three different ways before complete intubation... (Breathing on their own, nasal cannula, and Non-rebreather. The other options would cause viral shedding, leading to worsening of the viral spread and even contamination.) We also knew that each time we gowned up and enter the room, we were able to see facts and theories in front of us and assist us in understanding the virus more and how to manage based on other EBP methods from past, and new methods. Which made the situation SO interesting.

On my second shift being one of the COVID nurses, we learned more about the virus. And one thing was confirmed about my previous shift, and it was that the beliefs even among staff/the hospital and community members about what it all is, varied...

We started learning that after a couple of days of confirmed testing, people were coding. There seemed to be a peak time that the virus was causing severe respiratory failure and a systemic failure response and our managers told us that this was an ongoing and similar experience with other hospitals that they have collaborated with when discussing support during emergency responses. Days later, a nationally recognized public health organization actually published a report online that showed the timeline graph of peak levels during viral process and that proved the theory to possibly be correct. After a certain amount of days, almost regardless of intervention, certain people were rapidly deteriorating.

I walked into shift that day briefly assisting my colleagues in a code. Although this person had several cofounding factors that would've made even the basic flu difficult for the person to overcome, it was scary to see. Next thing you know a staff member’s gown had ripped in the process of helping the patient. Some staff were actually nervous for her. She followed proper decontamination protocol but it was still the fear of the unknown that is controlling everyone that is causing complete mayhem and chaos.

It is also the lack of supplies causing unreal scenarios....I took complete pride in the fact that my team would be some of the first COVID nurses , until I realized we didn't even have enough n95 respirators...that we were reusing products...(Which almost puts us at risk for contamination of ourselves and our environment and loved ones) we also don’t have enough face shields or goggles. So we are reusing them every shift. We can blame politicians or our actual health care orgs or whomever you feel is responsible when it came to emergency prepardness and allocation of funds. But all I know is that I am, as well as other staff, are becoming more and more at risk every shift as well as at risk when community members can't follow basic instructions and educate themselves with resources that are actually not factual. Which brings me to my next thanggg - When I see families out in the super market using gloves and masks, I get angry.

1. The masks you see people wearing are not n95 respirators so you will catch corona and even TB regardless. Jokes on you, folks.

2. Gloves? Are you serious? You think that will protect you? Each time you pick up an item wearing gloves and touch your face/fix your hair (which is what I actually saw the other day) you’re not protecting yourself. That glove is now contaminated regardless, and unless you’re bleaching the shit out of the products you are buying before placing them in your vehicle or bag, they are holding onto whatever the environment has, as well. Contaminated or not.

3. I understand the fear of the city/stores closing down so you must stock up on essentials and food. However, you are now defeating the purpose of preventing viral spread and you’re causing large groups in one tight area to take place. (Shoutout and much love to grocery store / restaurant employees, etc.) It’s to the point where I am less of a threat if I walk into a patient’s room with symptoms of COVID and then run over and cough on and hug 100 people, than those who have been at Walmart or the grocery store everyday this week spending a long amount of time getting items. I understand the need to have essentials, and that online services may be more expensive, but at times like these, they may be worth it especially if you or someone you are at home with is compromised in some way. This also, by the way, helps with the job industry including forcing one to have more self-awareness with WIC covered products and can assist in monitoring that they are not taken off of shelves and into carts out of pure human PANIC as opposed to other replacement products.

4. This happening does not give you the excuse to blame a certain group of people. If you do not know what corona is (and by going to CVS the other day to pick up my acid reflux meds and hearing chatter about it at my second job by non-medical personnel , I realize this is the case) then you need to shut the fuck up and not be an inherently racist prick. The end. No excuses.

Do not panic. BUT. Stay home once all your essentials are brought together. I know that during these times, there may be job and financial hardships, loved ones you are concerned about, and some children’s/college students’ education is on the line and being effected as a result (as is mine...), and that there is fear due to the unknown contamination of the virus and due to the different directions in leadership and advices. But please try to stay calm. And stay home. Staying home is the only thing you have control of at this moment, that can eventually help restore everything going on. The more you stay home, the more you’re helping ease the situation/exposures which can eventually lead to the life we were living before where you can work, go to school, etc. And since you will all have time now, educate yourself on the spread of Corona and understand WHAT it even is. One of the leading issues seems to be that no one was properly educated on it, causing the reaction everyone is having which is putting more people in danger and hospitals in complete stress and OVER the capacity to diligently care for patients that have the virus, among with other serious illnesses.

Flatten the mother fucking curve.

Love,

Emily RN

#COVID #Sincerely a nurse #Corona #stay home #flatten the curve #covid19

1 note · View note