#if I have to start IV antibiotics I REFUSE to be bored while doing so

[mycological-mariner]

Just as with nature walks, I am not to be trusted unattended in a library. I went in to pick up one book and left with four others with two on reserve.

[xxforsaken-angelxx]

> Consult an expert

xxforsaken-angelxx uh knock knock?

centaurstechnician D—> Greetings xxforsaken-angelxx hi im eridan makara the grinmaww im fuckin doin shit i wwas told you knoww things about helm recovvery

centaurstechnician D—> I am called the Engineer D—> As it happens, I know quite a bit about the subject D—> As helm installation and maintenace was my primary focus for six sweeps D—> And the rehabilitation of uninstalled helms the last four

xxforsaken-angelxx ok cool so youre just a funky miracle man

centaurstechnician D—> If it pleases you to phrase it that way

xxforsaken-angelxx no i mean it thats more rehab wwork than anyone here has

centaurstechnician D—> Indeed, do you know how much of their physique is compromised by the biowire’s intrusion? D—> As well it w001d be helpfoal to know how long they have been filly on life support

xxforsaken-angelxx purportedly the biowire aint fuckin wwith anythin an theyvve been there bout fifty swweeps, on full life support for a lotta that

centaurstechnician D—> According to whom? D—> Helms are %tremely bad at self reporting D—> And technicians are apt to overlook anything which does not interfere with the job D—> But assuming all you are dealing with is musc001ature atrophy, and not compromised limb function due to %cessive scarring and nerve damage D—> The I have a regimin of physical therepy %ercises to deal with each stage of recovery D—> As well as diet suggestions. D—> It will take them an amount of time to adjust to taking food by mouth again, and you will want to start with liquids, though a high protein diet rich in calories is imperative to recovery D—> I also suggest that perminant ports be replaced with silicone seating for comfort while moving and laying in any position

xxforsaken-angelxx according to the techs but thats fuckin useful shit

centaurstechnician D—> Are they currently on broad spectrum antibiotics and antivirals? D—> Restarting the immune system is an entire process involving transfusions and system boosters D—> They abso100tely will find their body treating every new thing as a possible intruder once it begins to ramp up D—> So you will need to watch for anaphylaxis, and have epinephrine ready, as well as simpler antihistamines and steriods

xxforsaken-angelxx youre a fuckin useful bitch yknoww that like i knoww wwere prepped for that one but youre less dodgy than the clowwn nurses

centaurstechnician D—> I am nothing if not usefoal D—> Helping to rehabilitate helms legally and freely is a dream > centaursTechnician has sent file exercise&diet.zip D—> My notes

xxforsaken-angelxx *hell* yes

centaurstechnician D—> I understand the subject is entering this affair willingly? D—> There may come a point, more quickly, or further along, where they grow tired of constantly struggling to do normal activites. D—> I have found a simple and uncomplicated short term and long term reward system helps with motivation, as long as you are entirely transparent about your motivations

xxforsaken-angelxx yeah they apparently wwould really like this to be a thing, so but tell me more about that?

centaurstechnician D—> Between keeping a private journal that remains private, and finding out what motivates them, new books? Food? Food is quite popular with psions in general because of their abnormally high caloric needs.

xxforsaken-angelxx i cant evven guess wwhat theyd like but wwe wwill cross that bridge wwhen wwe get there

centaurstechnician D—> once off the automatic regulation of blood sugar by the life support systems, many psions have reported feeling like they are constantly hungry, so food as a short term treat rarely goes wrong

xxforsaken-angelxx noted

centaurstechnician D—> feel free to contact me with any further questions

xxforsaken-angelxx actually heres one wwhat do you do like speech wwise

centaurstechnician D—> Are the vocal chords damaged? D—> If the voice is damaged, cybershades or glasses present an alternative to communication while strength and dexterity is being rebuilt in the hands

xxforsaken-angelxx theyvve refused to talk their wwhole service so i mean i fuckin assume an wwhat the fuck is a cybershades

centaurstechnician D—> It may be a form of protest, specifically. D—> Ah, hm > centaursTechnician has sent file cybershades.pdf D—> I apologize for the slightly rough instructions, this was pulled from a site where they discuss building one from cheap and spare parts D—> But it should still be usefoal D—> They are shades that present a HUD display of a computer interface, and work via a touch contact neural transmitter. D—> They can be both single or paired with a other device for increased computing power.

xxforsaken-angelxx ...thats cool as all shit

centaurstechnician D—> They are invaluable for giving some freedoms to those who have trouble communicating D—> And also for using your computing devices on then fly

xxforsaken-angelxx i wwould FUCKIN imagine

centaurstechnician D—> Language

xxforsaken-angelxx im a clowwn if i dont swwear then i shrivvel up like an unwwatered plant

centaurstechnician D—> I suppose if it is medically necessary I shall allow it

xxforsaken-angelxx i kneww youd understand

centaurstechnician D—> Of course D—> Let me know if there are any other pieces of equipment you need schematics for or questions I can answer

xxforsaken-angelxx one more thing any tips on like keepin someone not horrifically bored wwhen they wwont tell you wwhat they like

centaurstechnician D—> Give them the resources to seek their own entertainment. D—> Remember that they are probably very angry about the fate that was handed them D—> However they choose to express that anger is the only act of will they have taken for themselves from the shambles left to them of their abillity to act D—> You are not entitled to know anything about them D—> Give them the shades, allow them to order and ask for things on their own terms D—> They can find their own way. D—> As long as things are available to them if they choose.

xxforsaken-angelxx mm that makes sense not wwhat nymede wwants to hear though

centaurstechnician D—> There are many realities of dealing with people on the other side of a system you have benefitted from which are.. difficolt by nature

xxforsaken-angelxx shes been havvin a rough time wwith it but its easier wwhen i like fuckin knoww wwhat else to tell her to do

centaurstechnician D—> Feel free to direct her to me as well, if I can help, I will D—> I have been tasked with restoring Goldwave, as well D—> So I do have familiarity with the particulars of the implants used.

xxforsaken-angelxx yeah good fuckin point just might do that ...on a scale a one to ten howw much of a bitch is he to deal wwith

centaurstechnician D—> I believe he is doing his best to behave D—> Although I personally find him enjoyable enough. D—> perhaps a six, a nine if you are not me.

xxforsaken-angelxx thats about wwhat i thought but also i dont knoww howw the fuck you like him

centaurstechnician D—> My Red’s pale would rate him a twelve I’m certain

xxforsaken-angelxx ha

centaurstechnician D—> I quite enjoy his quick wit, and Strength of personality and determination

xxforsaken-angelxx i mean thats one fuckin wway to put it ...youre also wwith the serial killer bitch or somethin though so i dunno

centaurstechnician D—> I am Vriska’s moirail, yes. Ive known her since we were wrigglers

xxforsaken-angelxx im sure theres somethin there for you but i only knoww her for a lotta felonies so its questionable to me

centaurstechnician D—> I am curious about what intellegence about those procedings youve managed to gather

xxforsaken-angelxx not fuckin much i knoww there wwas a lotta murder an some fuckers head got stolen an our one heiress aligned ship that got ovver to the scene fuckin hated it uh she used transportalizer tech wwe dont havve

centaurstechnician D—> I apologize for my little prank with the letter, also

xxforsaken-angelxx OH YEAH THAT BITCH

centaurstechnician D—> :) D—> I’m told she killed every coolblood in the station

xxforsaken-angelxx yeah that she did fuckin brutally

centaurstechnician D—> There is nothing I can say which will lessen the impact of her chosen methodology D—> And I am not going to attempt to. D—> I’m curious, though, Grinmaw D—-> How many people have you killed?

xxforsaken-angelxx none zero none people

centaurstechnician D—> We have the privilege of having that in common, then

xxforsaken-angelxx not the up close vviolence type myself

centaurstechnician D—> Do you prefer a hands off approach, then? xxforsaken-angelxx eh, kinda im supposed to knoww wwar strategy type stuff an i like studyin it but right noww if i havve to actually use it then thatd be a bad sign to say the least centaurstechnician D—> I sincerely hope that your hands can stay clean.

xxforsaken-angelxx nice a you you too though centaurstechnician D—> Thank you

[kuriquinn]

The Job Offer [part 2]

General Disclaimer

Rating: PG 13

Author’s Note: I was planning to do all random one-shots that weren’t connected to anything. But this was the only thing I could think of writing when I saw the prompt was “medicine”. So...here’s the next part of that mafia fic I started like two years ago. If you want to read the first part, you can find it here.

⁂ ⁂ ⁂ ⁂ ⁂ ⁂ ⁂

“So, I hear you’re refusing your medication unless I give it to you,” Sakura says as she enters the private room without preamble, two IV bags in hand. “Care to share why? And it better not be some macho, stoic bullshit.”

She should probably be a little more polite, but she’s way beyond sleep deprived at this point.

Uchiha Sasuke is propped up in his bed, glaring at her. His chest is a swath of thick bandages, turning what she has learned is a stunning physic into a comically shapeless square. They are incongruent with the vibrant colours of sleeve tattoos that depict snakes winding up either arm against a black background with red clouds. She knows there’s something on his back, too, but she was a little too preoccupied with his life-saving surgery at the time to identify it; some kind of bird.

“Your people are refusing to allow my men in here. I can’t be sure I’m not being poisoned.”

“After the show they put on in the emergency room, they’re lucky they’re even allowed in the waiting room,” she grumbles and begins to set the bags into the apparatus. “Why do you trust me not to poison you? I mean, you’ve been a bit of a pain since I met you, so you’d totally deserve it…”

She chances a glance over at her patient, who hasn’t taken his eyes off her since she walked in. She has a brief moment of being lost in endless black, and then he turns away with a noncommittal noise.

“You’ve already proven you have principles. Since a dozen Uchiha-gumi couldn’t make you waver, I doubt anything else could.”

He goes quiet, staring at the wall with a slight frown in his forehead, and long bangs framing his face rather fetchingly despite the fact he probably hasn’t had a chance to wash his hair in three days.

He is really, unfairly and ridiculously pretty.

Sakura swallows at that thought, hastily grabbing for his chart so he doesn’t catch her looking.

No! None of that! Bad idea! That is the worst idea. Just look at his arms, they tell you exactly why this is a bad idea!

“What are you giving me, anyhow?” he asks. “I don’t allow just anything in my body.”

“I’m trying not to find that ironic,” Sakura quips. “Anyhow, these are your next round of antibiotics and painkillers—and no, it’s not morphine, you already made it clear to my interns what you thought about that.”

“As I said.”

“Yeah, well, you could have been a little nicer about it. I think Dr. Ise is about to go to the administration and tender his resignation because of you. And they’re in enough of a tizzy already, they’d accept it.”

Uchiha watches her face, and something flashes in his gaze.

“You haven’t had any issues, have you?” he asks, frowning. “With regards to your employment?”

Sakura’s cheeks flame. “You mean since your boys were trying to intimidate Senju-sensei and the rest of the Board of Directors?”

“It would be remiss of them to suspend your privileges considering the situation.”

“Do you know how much of a problem their interference could be for me?!”

“Was it effective?”

“In this case…yes,” she admits grudgingly. He smirks at that, like he predicted this, and she clenches her fists. “But the Board’s going to make my life hell in other ways from now on! Constant reviews and check ins and…” She sighs, reigning in her temper. “Look, it’s not that I don’t appreciate it, but you’re making my life more complicated—”

“Complicated enough to leave?” he suggests, and there’s something too blank about his face just then.

Suspicion rears its head, along with a memory of the night they met.

“So what? Just come work for me.”

“I’m not quitting my job. I have responsibilities—"

“Take a sabbatical,” he suggests. “I’ve heard that’s common among the medical profession, either due to burnout or the desire to research areas of interest.”

“Not to go work for the mob!”

He doesn’t appear to hear her. “You doctors engage in research, right? Life-saving practices, new methods?”

“…Yes?”

“And that requires funding, if I understand it. Which is difficult to come by, considering you don’t exactly get paid much…”

Sakura narrows her eyes. “Are you trying to bribe me?”

“I consider it more of an investment.”

“No offense, but even if I were at the point in my career where I was trying to get funding for something, I’d rather not have the money attached to my name and methods be dirty. Especially not if I want to be taken seriously.”

“We maintain entirely legal businesses,” he dismisses. “My branch of the family has a thriving private security business, which has been very lucrative so far. Any funding you receive through us would be through legal channels and with clean funds.”

Sakura blinks, not entirely sure she’s understanding what she’s hearing.

“Why are you trying so hard to recruit me?”

“You have a good image.”

“Excuse me?”

“Not like that,” he rolls his eyes. Then as if in opposition to what he just said, his gazes flicks up and down in a way that has her blushing and torn between wanting to cover up in a blanket or shrug out of her scrubs in front of him.

Oh. My. God. What the hell is wrong with me?

“You are small and unassuming,” he continues. “No one would know to look at you that you’re anything more than that. And in addition to being able to fight, you have medical skills and respect discretion. In my experience, that is hard to come by without a lot of money being thrown around. And money doesn’t buy loyalty. You already have principles, so money wouldn’t be necessary. You’re a warrior and a healer. That’s valuable.”

“I…”

What the hell do I say to that?

“As it happens, I’m looking for another member of my security team. Suigetsu’s wife is having a baby soon, and she’s demanding. I don’t see him being able to maintain his commitments to my schedule for the next little while. You have no family connections or commitments to speak of, nor any time-consuming romantic relationships most women your age do.”

“How the— how do you know that?! Are you— did you have someone look into me?”

She’s entirely thrown off balance by this.

“My brother is very thorough. He and my parents wished to make sure of your credentials.” There aren’t many yakuza that the general populace are able to name off the top of their head, but Uchiha Itachi is one of them. If any of the stories about him are true… “You will likely meet him when I’m permitted to leave here.”

Sakura is only just able to hold back the choke of fear, but her patient notices, nonetheless.

“There’s no need for you to worry about him,” he says, bored. “He already likes you, from what Suigetsu told him. Something amuses him about the fact you can—what’s the expression? ‘Get me to take my medicine’? Anyhow, he’ll have a formal offer of employment drawn up for you.”

He is looking at her with a superior look, as if to say, this hospital may be your kingdom, but I have my own domain.

That confidence is simultaneously terrifying and sexy in a way it shouldn’t be.

“You may have time to consider the proposition,” he tells her, indicating the door; a clear dismissal.

Sakura bristles a little at that, irritated. “And if I still decline?”

He shrugs. “Then you decline. I’m not about to have your fingers cut off because you’ve done something I don’t like.” His eyes rest on her hands, then flick up to her with something indecipherable in them. “That would be a waste.”

And then he smiles.

Sakura feels a surge of want slam into her and oh, whether she takes the job or not, this is not going to turn out well for her, is it?

栗

[sunyoonandstars]

✨Linked✨ || BTS Soulmate AU Series || You x !Soulmate! Yoongi | You x Jimin || Part 18

Text/Social Media/Narrative Series || Soulmate & College AU

Previous Part | Next Part 

LINKED MASTERLIST

“According to Greek mythology, humans were originally created with four arms, four legs and a head with two faces. Fearing their power, Zeus split them into two separate parts, condemning them to spend their lives in search of their other halves.”

― Plato, The Symposium

Credit goes to the incredible @789cream for creating this beautiful moodboard for my series. Thanks again!

You should’ve known, should’ve been able to tell by the way [Suga] talked about his soulmate. About you. You should’ve figured it out before it was too late. Before he, somehow, made his way into your mind and heart. But you were just too preoccupied with Jimin and everything that was going on. You really stood no chance.

And now … What now?

Your thoughts keep racing, chasing their own tails.

How do you even feel about him? About Suga? Why do you miss him, although you left him behind in that hospital bed no more than thirty minutes ago? And are any of those feelings real? How will you ever be able to tell?

Pairing You x Soulmate! Yoongi You x Jimin

Word count 5.072

‘siblings’, according to age: Namjoon, Jimin, y/n, Taehyung (you grew up living in the same foster home as implied in earlier parts of this series)

fluff, angst, hints at/of smut

❗️Warning/s ❗️ mentions of emotional trauma, suicide/suicidal thoughts, death, hospitals/sickness, and child neglect

Previously, on ‘Linked’…

Eventually, after years of successfully having avoided it, you have come across your soulmate. An ominous stranger of whom you know no more than the back of his head, his phone number and that he works as a part-time barista at your (former) favorite coffee shop.

Having been pressured by a friend into contacting him, things start to get complicated. Because your heart already belongs to another. And, haunted by the ghosts of your past, the last thing you want is for your soul to find its one, true, destined mate.

After texting back and forth for days with the man only known to you as your ‘Soulmate’, you are forced to break contact since he is starting to get too close and your boyfriend Jimin is anything but pleased with that. When your paths, however, cross, the ominous ‘Suga’, as he calls himself, refrains from revealing his true identity to you - which would mean an instant link of souls and the end of his torture -  and, instead, is set on making his way into your life the right way.

A fateful accident at your workplace is followed by a visit to the emergency room and a falling out with your boyfriend, Jimin, leading you to turn to a virtual stranger for comfort ... 

CHAPTER 18

Now it all makes sense. Why I felt so drawn to you. Why you knew me so well. Why you appeared when I was at my weakest. 

How could you?? When were you planning on telling me your birth name?? Once I broke up with Jimin?? Or would you even have waited that long?? 

Shit. I trusted you. I was so blind. I should’ve seen it coming. 

Don’t contact me. I really can’t have this right now. 

“Shit. Shit. Shit.” Yoongi can’t stop himself from muttering this same word over and over again as he pulls the cannula out of his vein without giving it a second thought and gets up and out of the uncomfortable hospital bed, his mind racing, all his thoughts revolving around you. 

He has no idea how long ago you left. He doesn’t even know where you would go from here, where there is even the remote chance of finding you. But what he does know is that he cannot stay put here and let you walk away, just like that, sitting it out, not even trying to hold you back. His soulmate. He cannot just let you slip through his fingers. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. It was never supposed to be like this. End like this. 

No. He refuses to believe this is the end. It can’t be. It can’t. 

“Where do you think you’re going, young man?” 

Yoongi doesn’t get very far, though. Before he can make it out of the room, he is stopped by a firm hand grabbing his arm. Nothing seems to escape this nurse’s attention. 

“Back to bed. Now. The doctor responsible needs to discharge you before you can set a foot across this door sill.”

“But —”

“No buts.”

“But — Wait. Who even paid for my treatment?” 

“Your friend did, of course.” 

“What? She —?”

“And now stop wasting her precious money and go back to bed. The doctor will examine you again in the morning. Only then will he be able to tell if you’re free to leave. We want to do our job properly after all.” 

Reluctantly accepting the fact that there is no use in going against this unrelenting woman, Yoongi eventually caves in and does as he is told, watching the nurse re-connect the IV bag to his bloodstream. 

“What’s that?”, he inquires, gesturing towards the plastic bag filled with a clear liquid. 

“Antibiotics.”

“What for?” 

“You are suffering from pleurisy, young man.” 

“Of what?” 

“An inflammation of your pleura.”

“Due to what?” 

“Trauma, it says on your chart. Apparently, one of your ribs was badly bruised.” 

“Oh.” 

“Well. You’re all set now. Take a nap. Drink a lot of water. There is pain medication sitting on your nightstand, in case you need it to sleep.” 

“Thanks.” 

Pleased with her work, the nurse takes a step back and eyes him intently, her head tilted to one side like that of an attentive dog. 

“You’re so young, but your body is so tired already.” Hands resting on her hips, she sighs, shaking her head in discontent. “I hope that woman of yours takes good care of you in the future. You need someone who feeds you right. Good food. Home-cooked.” 

Her well-intentioned words hit him like a blow to the stomach. 

“Yeah. Sure”, he nods, struggling to conjure up a cordial smile. “I’ll let her know.”

If I ever see her again. 

“If you don’t, I will”, the nurse — Yoongi takes a quick look at her name tag — called Oh jokes. “Such a handsome young man, but far too frail.” 

She clicks her tongue in a reproving manner. 

“Now rest. Let the medicine do its work and get some sleep. You look like you could use it.” 

With that conclusion, she turns away and leaves Yoongi to his torturing thoughts, your last words echoing in his mind, haunting him until he, eventually, drifts off into sleep. 

Headphones on, your phone in airplane mode, hands buried deep inside the pockets of your black bomber jacket, you start walking at a smart pace, quickly bringing a safe distance between yourself and the hospital you just left. Even now you’re still shaking, your legs barely carrying your weight. 

It’s him. It’s really him. It can’t be. But it is. Your thoughts keep spinning. 

Suga. He’s your soulmate. No doubt about it. You could clearly read your name as you frantically checked Suga’s pulse, the letters standing out blood red against the pale skin of his wrist. Y/l/n Y/n. The possibility of him having linked with another woman of exactly the same name not too long ago, judging by the early stage of healing his tattoo manifested, and him coincidentally stumbling into the very bar you work at just about when you broke off any contact with your anonymous soulmate is close to zero. 

It’s him. It must be him. Suga being your soulmate makes an awful lot of sense, now that you come to think of it. It would explain everything. Why you were so drawn to this ominous stranger who didn’t feel like a stranger to you at all. Why you blindly trusted him from the very start. Why you felt so comfortable around him, felt like he was the first person on this godforsaken planet to actually understand you. Why your burn wound, or rather the inside of your left wrist, the spot on your skin that is supposed to be taken up by his name, started itching again every time you were near him. 

You should’ve known, should’ve been able to tell by the way he talked about his soulmate. About you. You should’ve figured it out before it was too late. Before he, somehow, made his way into your mind and heart. But you were just too preoccupied with Jimin and everything that was going on. You really stood no chance. 

And now … What now?

Your thoughts keep racing, chasing their own tails. 

How do you even feel about him? About Suga? Why do you miss him, although you left him behind in that hospital bed no more than thirty minutes ago? And are any of those feelings real? How will you ever be able to tell? And if they are, how could you just overlook the fact that he tricked you? That he lied to you, abused your trust? And, most importantly and purely hypothetical, how could you ever be with him without actually establishing the Link?

Because linking with him is still not even close to an option. The mere thought of it makes you sick to your stomach. 

After all, you don’t want to end up like her. Like your mother. Pitiful. Desperate. Without power or sanity.  

No. No way. Not ever. 

You will never let yourself abandon all control over your own life like that. You will not give in to genetics. Nobody other than you and you alone, not your soulmate, not science, not fate, will ever take the reins of your so-called destiny. 

That’s what you swore to yourself when you saw your mother’s lifeless body dangling from your kitchen ceiling all those years ago. Leaving you alone. All alone in this strange and cold world. Her own child, no more than four years old. Simply because her soul couldn’t take the loss of its one true mate. 

No. You will not become her. You will not surrender. Not ever. Not for the life of you. 

Even if it means you are to spend the rest of your existence in isolation. You will, under no circumstances, subject yourself to this kind of power. 

Your nails boring deep into your palms, the pain, at least to some extent, bringing you relief, you keep striding forward aimlessly, your feet carrying you to a location even unknown to yourself while deafeningly loud punk rock seeps out of your high-fidelity headphones, almost successfully drowning out each and every painful thought of Suga and Jimin. 

Because, as if you didn’t have enough on your plate already thanks to this unexpected revelation of Suga’s true identity, sitting in the hospital’s waiting room you forced yourself to face reality and turned your phone back on. A decision that resulted in you being presented with more than a dozen unread and exceedingly unsettling messages by your distraught boyfriend and worried brother. 

With shaking hands, you kept scrolling through the countless angry outcries Jimin had sent your way last night while you were sound asleep in Suga’s studio. Your muffled gasps echoed from the walls of the quiet anteroom as you skimmed the text messages depicting the progression of Jimin’s heartbreaking exasperation over the course of several hours.

Approximately 26 hours ago ...

Present Time. 

His words still haunt you, their tone desperate. 

‘You still love me, right?’

Jimin must have been hurting when he wrote [these words].

As you now mend your pace, tears burning in your eyes, blurring your vision, you can see him before you. The lost, ‘damaged’ teenage boy whom you shared your first kiss with all those years ago. In your mind’s eye, you can see it play back like a movie. The night of the thunderstorm when you had tried to run away from your foster home — the fourth in total that child protective services had placed you in. Jimin ran after you, despite the pouring rain. When he finally caught up with you, he begged you to stay and confessed his feelings. He told you that you were the most beautiful person he had ever met and that he loved you for all that you were, and if any fourteen-year-old ever spoke these words and truly meant them, it was Park Jimin. His eyes gave him away. They were genuine. You knew you could trust him.

Jimin was the first person you ever let in. If he hadn’t come after you that night, there’s no telling where you’d be right now. Dead, for all you know. He saved you. You saved each other.

The both of you had made an oath that night, to protect one another and always stay together, come what may. 

Back then, it had felt right and keeping your promise seemed to be possible, the only possibility, really. But now, at this moment, you don’t know anymore. If you ever truly reciprocated his feelings. If you ever loved Jimin the way he loves you. Or if you just needed a companion. Someone to catch you when you fell. A friend and nothing more.

Sure, your feelings for Jimin changed quickly following his heartfelt confession. You suddenly saw him in an entirely new light. Not as a wanna-be brother anymore. But as a man.

When you first got together, the two of you were young and both your bodies were riddled with hormones. You were inseparable and couldn’t keep your hands off of each other whenever you were alone. Being intimate with Jimin was exciting. You never even gave your reasons for craving after his touch and body much thought. You never questioned your desire. In hindsight, though, you’re not sure if you enjoyed the sensual part of your relationship merely for the satisfaction it gave you or because it was Jimin pleasuring you. If you’re entirely honest with yourself, you’re afraid the former is the case. It has been for a while, at least. But it never bothered you. Not until you learned what it truly feels like to want somebody. Need somebody. On so many more levels than just this one. 

Damn. And there he is. Back again. Suga. In your head. Haunting your every thought. 

You can’t erase the pictures. Of his pale face. His limp body. He looked so small in that hospital bed, so vulnerable. It took all the strength you had in you to leave him behind. But staying around until he’d wake up wasn’t an option, either. Right now, you’re in no condition to face him. Being around each other won’t do either of you any good until you have all of this figured out. Or at least some things are starting to make sense. Because, right now, nothing does. 

What you need is a drink. Or two. Your feet carried you to the right place then, you acknowledge as you lift your head to find yourself staring at the neon sign hanging over the entrance to the Plutarch. 

Great. At your workplace on your night off. How pathetic. On the other hand, though, where else would you come across an unlimited supply of free drinks at this time of night? Right. Nowhere. 

So, straightening your posture, you throw open the door and step into the bar where you are greeted by the all too familiar stench of sweat, booze, and nicotine.

Drink in hand, you stumble through the Plutarch’s back door and into the fresh night air, the boosted bass of the electronic dance music following you outside, echoing through the littered back alley. 

A few minutes pass until Taehyung eventually picks up, his voice low and heavy with sleep. 

“Y/nnie? What’s up? Where are you? It’s late.” 

You can hear fabric rustle in the background. 

“Shit. I woke you up, didn’t I!?”

“It’s okay, y/n. I’m glad to hear from you. Let me just — Wait a sec — I don’t wanna wake up Nana.”

Your heart stings at the mention of his soulmate and the image of them peacefully sleeping side by side, perfectly content in the knowledge of having linked with their mate for life. 

With a shake of your head and another sip from your beer bottle, you push aside that useless thought. 

“Where were you, y/n?” He pauses, the sound of a closing door filling the silence on his end of the phone line. “Is that music I hear? Are you out? Alone. Or with —”

“With Suga?”, you scoff, kicking an empty coke can. “No. No, I’m not with him. Not anymore at least.”

“He told you? That I called?” 

“Yeah. Sorry that I didn’t text you back. I read your messages. I didn't mean to worry you. It’s just — Everything is a little overwhelming currently. And — And I —”

You wanted to hold them back. So badly. The tears. You told yourself you wouldn’t cry again and you tried hard, so hard, not to give in. But the alcohol combined with the sound of Taehyung’s warm voice eventually break your resistance. 

“Y/n? What’s wrong? What happened? Are you crying? Are you okay!?”

“Funny thing’s that I’m perfectly fine. But Suga — He —”

“What’s wrong with him? Is he in trouble?” 

“He’s in the hospital, Tae. He — He just collapsed. Out of the blue. And I — I saw it, okay!? That he’s my fucking soulmate!” 

“Oh.” 

“Oh!? Is that really all you have to say to that, Kim Taehyung!?” you scream into the receiver, your voice cracking, drowning in stifled sobs. “He was wearing my fucking name on his wrist, Tae. Did you know? You knew, didn’t you!? You fucking knew!” 

Of course, he knew. 

“Y/n, have you been drinking?” 

“What!? Why?”

“It’s just. You’re cursing. A lot. And you only —”

“Does it really matter right now?” 

“No. I — I just want you to be safe, that’s all.” 

With one big gulp, you empty your bottle.

“I’m fine, Tae. Never been better. It’s your friend you should be worried about. You can find him in the Seoul National University Hospital, room 1346. I paid for his treatment and all, so no need to worry about that. Just … make sure he’s okay, I guess.” 

“Yes! Of course! I’m already on my way. But — Did you —”

“No, Tae, we didn’t link. I left before he even woke up. I still don’t know his name and I want to keep it that way.”

“Of course. Of course! I get it. I do. With all that happened to you. I get it, okay? I’d never tell you. It’s not my place.” 

“Right”, you snicker. “So, it wasn’t you who sent him to the Plutarch that night, when we ended up in the ER?”

You are met with silence. 

“It’s okay, Tae. I don’t hate you or anything. I mean, you should’ve stayed out of it. But what’s done is done and I know you meant well. Just — From now on please don’t get involved. I mean it.” 

“All right. I won’t. I promise.” He seems to mean it. And you know, Kim Taehyung is a man of his word and he respects you far too much to consciously go against what you want. 

“Thank you”, you sigh, running a hand through your hair, damp from sweat. “I just can’t have any more drama right now.”

“Then you should better not come over, I guess.” 

“Why?”

“Because Jimin’s crashing on our couch. He arrived here early in the morning, drunk as hell, and didn’t leave ever since.” 

Shit. He must’ve missed his rehearsal. 

“Okay. Thanks for the heads-up.”

“Where will you sleep then? Do you have a place to stay?”

“Dunno. Maybe I’ll stay with Catrina, my colleague. Her roomies are nice. They won’t ask questions.”

“So, you’re at the Plutarch?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s good.” He sounds relieved. “At least you’re safe there. But, don’t do anything stupid, okay? No going home with random strangers and stuff, okay?” 

“Tsk. What are you? My dad?”

“Please, y/n. Promise me you won’t fall back into old habits. I remember quite vividly what the sleeping around did to you when you, you know, were on a break from Jiminie.” 

Yes. You remember, too. And part of you wants to feel it again. Wants to be used again. To be treated like a piece of meat and thrown away after. But the other part knows very well where these kinds of escapades usually lead you. And you’re not to keen on going back to that place. Because, deep down, you’re scared that, this time, you won’t make it back. 

“All right, I won’t. I promise. No screwing around tonight. I’m not in the mood anyway.” 

“Haha. Good to know”, Taehyung laughs. His deep, warm, rich laugh. The laugh that makes you feel safe and grounded wherever you are. Like hot chocolate. You’d give anything for a hug from him right now. 

“I love you, Tae. You know that, right?” 

“Ah. You always get so sappy when you’re drunk.” 

“Stop it, or I’ll take it back.” 

He clears his throat before he speaks up again, his tone almost solemn this time. 

“Yes, I know, y/n. And I love you, too. You’re family. You always will be.”

“Thank you. Nana is a lucky woman.” 

“I’d say it’s the other way around”, he jokes, eliciting a genuine smile from you. Taehyung, the life of the party, so handsome heads keep turning wherever he shows up, always so humble. 

“Well, give my love to her. And —”

You stop in mid-sentence, your mind suddenly blank. You know what you mean to say, but the words just won’t come. 

“Yes, y/nnie. I’ll take good care of Suga. Don’t worry.” 

“Thanks”, you barely manage to croak out. 

“No need to thank me. Let me know later if you found a safe place to stay for the night.”

“Will do.” 

After you said your goodbyes, you end the call and are left with nothing but deafening silence. Even the music is gone now. And dawn is breaking already. 

As if by command, Catrina pokes her head out through the back door, her eyes searching the alley until they find you. 

“Here you are! Come on. Move your pretty ass. It’s time to leave and we have to lock up. I wanna fucking sleep, okay!?” 

Impatient as always, she waves you nearer, grabbing at your sleeve and pulling you inside as soon as you come into range.

“Do you have a death wish I should know about!?” She shakes her head, strawberry blonde hair flying. “Jeez, y/n. It’s freezing cold outside. What were you even doing there? You missed all the fun.” 

Playfully punching your shoulder, she throws her head back, her crystal clear laughter resounding in the now-empty club. 

“There was this hot chick who —”

“Cat”, you cut her short, having trouble to keep your teeth from chattering. “Could I maybe stay with you for tonight? Or this week? Or, you know, just for a while?”

“So, basically, I fainted because of this pleurisy thing, the resulting fever, extreme physical and emotional stress due to the proximity of my unlinked soulmate and the implied consequences, like cardiac arrhythmias and stuff. And, well, malnutrition over an extent of a few weeks, months maybe. On top of that a moderate panic attack. Things like that. They just all came together somehow. At that very moment. Or that’s what the doctors say, at least. I didn’t even see it coming.” 

Sitting on the edge of Yoongi’s hospital bed, Taehyung listens attentively while the other one cites his numerous bodily defects, his countenance suggesting that none of this is any of his business or reason for particular concern. Yoongi speaks as if he is talking about someone else, not meeting Taehyung’s eye. Nonetheless, the older one fails miserably in his attempt to hide his true state of mind. He’s anxious, restless, clearly tormented, judging by the way Yoongi’s fingers nervously fiddle with the rim of his sweater’s wide sleeve and his teeth keep gnawing away at his swollen lip, nails bitten short to the bloody nail beds. 

Taehyung can very well imagine what it must look like behind those dark, glossy eyes. He remembers the agonizing hours after meeting Nana and until she finally linked back with him as clearly as if it happened yesterday. And, at this point, Yoongi has been existing in this limbo of longing for a week already. It’s incredible that he is even still alive, Taehyung thinks to himself. His friend must surely possess a strong heart and mind not to be driven insane by this burning desire to be with his one destined mate. Especially the knowledge of your current situation should be torturous to him. Because, if his distant expression is anything to go by, Yoongi must have a rather good idea of how you are dealing with this whole mess. 

“That doesn’t sound too good, Hyung”, Taehyung eventually concludes after Yoongi has fallen silent and resorted to motionlessly gazing into space. “I talked to her, just a little while ago, in case you were wondering.” 

“To who?”

“Come on, Yoongi. Who are you trying to fool? She’s all you can think about.”

Arms crossed over his chest, Yoongi leans further back into his pillow, looking away, lips pursed in disapproval. 

“It’s five in the morning. What are you even doing here? Did you sleep here?”

“Kind of. Y/n called me to look after you. But that’s not what’s important right now”, Taehyung protests. “Don’t try and change the topic. You can’t just act like nothing’s different, Yoongi. Like this isn’t a big deal. Come on. Talk to me. Y/n basically went missing for 24 hours, dropped off the face of the earth. What happened? What did you do? What were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t, okay!?”, Yoongi snaps at him, having trouble keeping his voice down, it appears. The nurse shoots him a warning glance whereupon he pulls his blanket up to his chin like a sulky five-year-old. “Just — After I met her, thanks to you.” He pauses to dart a murderous look at Taehyung. “I couldn’t stay away anymore. I wanted — No, I needed to see her again, to be with her, to feel her close and make sure she’s okay. Because she didn’t seem like it when I left her that night.” 

“I know. Okay? I know what it’s like. From experience. But — You must’ve felt like shit.”

“No. Well, yeah. But she kinda made me forget, you know? Whenever I looked at her, the pain disappeared. Or at least I didn’t feel it anymore.”

“Or you fooled yourself into thinking you didn’t feel it anymore. Yoongi, you could’ve died. Of heart failure or something. Do you realize that?” 

The older one just shrugs in response. His indifference is starting to anger Taehyung. 

“Hyung, you shouldn’t be this reckless. I mean, If you don’t care about yourself, at least think about her. How do you imagine she would’ve felt if she found out she could have killed you? Or how she must be feeling right now, knowing that she’s responsible for your pain?” 

Finally, he engaged his friend’s attention. Alert, Yoongi’s eyes shoot up to meet his. 

“What did she say? How is she?” 

“Well …”, Taehyung sighs. “She’s not exactly great. But I think she’ll live.” 

“Is she staying at your place?” 

“No. She can’t since –– —” 

“Since what?”

“Well. That’s where Jimin is staying, so …”

“Oh.” 

Taehyung can literally watch Yoongi’s mood drop to an all new low. 

“Are they — Did she mention if they were —?” he cautiously asks.

“What?” Yoongi answers his tactless question with one of his own. “If y/n mentioned anything about making up with him? With this dancer guy?”

“Hey, careful there. Jimin’s like my brother. I love him. And he doesn’t deserve to be in the middle of all this, okay?” 

“All right, all right. Sorry.” Yoongi raises his wiry hands in defense. “But, no, it didn’t seem like she was particularly looking forward to seeing him again. She had a couple of, I don’t know, panic attacks or something, just talking about him. How she didn’t love him anymore but she didn’t wanna hurt him either.” 

“Yeah, sounds like her.” 

Poor Y/nnie, Taehyung can’t help but think to himself. You must be miserable right now. Knowing you, his sister, the last thing you’d want to do would be to hurt anybody, most of all Jimin. Taehyung is well aware of how special a bond the two of you had formed over the years. He watched it flourish with his own two eyes. Breaking it can’t possibly be an easy thing to do.

“So, Taehyung?” Clearing his throat, Yoongi props himself up on his elbows. “Would you mind telling me something? Because I didn’t get a chance to ask her.” 

Taehyung has a feeling he is about to break his word he gave you on the way over here.

“Sure. Ask away. I’m just not sure if I can answer.”

“Fair enough.”

Yoongi sits up, leaning in closer, his eyes eager.

“Y/n’s feelings towards the whole Link business are rather extreme, it seems. So, what’s up with her and this soulmate thing? Why is she so adamantly against it? There must be a reason and I think I deserve to know.”

He knew it. Taehyung knew he would regret making that promise to you. Because he is about to get so involved in your business, there will be no getting out of it again.

“Well, she has her reasons, that’s for sure”, he starts out, swallowing hard.

Please don’t hate me for this, y/nnie, he sends a quick prayer to the hospital’s unsightly styrofoam ceiling before he continues.

“Have you ever heard of phantom pain?”

Yoongi nods.

“Well, the soul can have it, too. And some people aren’t strong enough to endure it.”

“What are you getting at?” 

“Y/n’s mother — She committed suicide. Six days after y/n’s father, her mother’s soulmate died. The woman just couldn’t take it. And hung herself in their family kitchen, right in front of her four-year-old daughter eyes. After having neglected her child for days, not even feeding her, only screaming her husband’s name time and again, sobbing herself to sleep while her daughter was literally starving next to her.” 

Taehyung can barely fight back tears as he retells your life story, his voice trembling. He still remembers the girl he first met more than ten years ago. Frail. Pale. Scared. Untrusting. 

“When Y/n became of age and was first allowed access to her files, I got a glimpse of pictures that were taken when child protective services found her back then. She was in a terrible state. No wonder she’s still traumatized. She remembers everything, Hyung. Every. Little. Detail. But most of all the screams. She once told me that, sometimes, she still hears them in her sleep.” A cold shiver runs down Taehyung’s spine at the thought of it. He really hopes you’re not alone right now. All of this must surely, once again, have stirred up those horrible memories you tried so hard to bury. 

“Her mother turned into an entirely different person with her husband’s death”, Taehyung proceeds after a few seconds of silence. Meanwhile, Yoongi seems to have fallen into some kind of paralysis. Taehyung can’t be sure if his friend is even still breathing. 

“The second she lost her soulmate, she lost herself. And y/n never ever wants to go through that, to allow anyone or anything to have this kind of control over her state of mind. But can you blame her?” 

Wide-eyed, Yoongi stares at him, his even features distorted by agony and rage. 

“No. Of course, not. She’s not the one to blame here. I— I get it. I get it now.” He stammers, jaw clenched. “Why she hates me. And she’s right to stay away. Maybe it’s for the best. Knowing this, how could I ever see her again? How could I make her be with me? I must make her sick.” 

“No. Don’t say that, Hyung.” 

“But I’m sure it’s true. Maybe I should just leave her alone. Disappear from her life. I could never — How could you let me go to her, Tae? I — I can’t force this onto her. She must feel revolted by the idea of even being near me.”

Taehyung can see it in his eyes. Yoongi’s pain. His horror at the realization of what he most likely put you through. His misguided disgust with himself. 

“Yoongi, it’s not your fault.” He reaches for his hand, but Yoongi flinches, pulls it back under his blanket. 

“You didn’t know, Hyung. And her mother was just one case. One in a million. She was simply … weak. And you and y/n, you’re stronger. And she will realize that. Just give her a little time. Don’t give up just yet. Please”, he begs. But Yoongi seems unimpressed, cold even.

“I think you should go, Tae. I just want to sleep right now.” 

“If you really want me to leave, I —”

“Yes, I do”, Yoongi cuts him off, his tone harsh, as he already gets comfortable in a lying position, curled up into a ball. 

“Okay. I have to get to work anyway”, Taehyung sighs. “Have a good rest, Yoongi. And get better, soon. I’ll come by again tomorrow and I don’t care if you want me to or not. I’ll be here.”

“Whatever”, Yoongi grumbles, by now having been entirely swallowed up by his blanket. 

“Bye, Yoongi. And it’s not over, okay? Don’t forget that.” 

As soon as he is sure Taehyung has left, Yoongi kicks off his blanket, his limbs as restless as his thoughts. 

Being aware of what you went through and must be going through right now, how could he just stay here? Lying in bed? Sleeping, as if everything was right in the world? When it clearly isn’t? 

No. Merely putting up with the way things are and playing dead isn’t an option any longer. 

Yoongi has to think. To clear his head. And he can’t do that here. Not in this room full of the sick and dying with nurse Oh watching him as closely as if he is about to burn this whole place down. 

No. He has to get out of here. To get moving. To sort out his thoughts and figure out the right thing to do in this kind of situation. If such a thing even exists. And in order to do so, he needs to talk to somebody. 

Yoongi is curious what Jimin has to say to all this as he makes his way towards Taehyung’s apartment in the refreshing cold of the early morning hours.

END OF CHAPTER 18 || TO BE CONTINUED

Thank you for reading! I hope you like the series so far and this chapter didn’t disappoint. 😌

Here you can find my Masterlist in case you feel like checking out more of my BTS fiction.

Also, if you have Spotify, you can listen to the ‘official’ 🎶 playlist 🎶 to the ‘Linked’ series here. It contains all the songs having been sent back and forth between Yoongi and the reader in the past and some more tunes fitting the series’ vibe.  

Take care and have a great day! ☺️💖

NONE of the GIFs used are mine. Credit goes to the initial creators. Thank you for your hard work and dedication.

[blackleatherjacketz]

You’re The Boss: Chapter 16

Negan x Female Reader, Doctor Emmett Carson x Female Reader

Things go back to normal... or do they?

Warnings: Angst, Guilt, Doctor Carson’s Face :/

Read: Chapter 1  Chapter 2  Chapter 3  Chapter 4  Chapter 5  Chapter 6  Chapter 7  Chapter 8  Chapter 9  Chapter 10  Chapter 11 Chapter 12  Chapter 13  Chapter 14  Chapter 15  

Tags: @sonnshineandrainbows @acutecupidity @mblaqgi @destiel-lover321 @collette04 @littlepeachwhispers @dramaqueenarg @negans-network @beautifulfound @lokisaveus @sleepylunarwolf @haleyea

Working with Doctor Carson makes you feel whole again, complete, purposeful. The smell of alcohol pads brings back memories of renal patients who never wanted to follow their diets, diabetics who refused their insulin, and confused little old ladies. Sleepless nights working overtime as staff stayed home with the sickness were the most vivid memories for you at the moment. Exhaustion was a strong unifier between coworkers, bringing you and Bob closer in the wee small hours of the morning. You don’t know how close ‘normal hours’ will bring you and Doctor Carson now that you’re back to work, but you’re interested in finding out.

“It’s good to have you back.” Doctor Carson stares at you like a fish out of water. His pupils dilate against olive green irises as he takes you in.

“Thanks, Doc.” You pause as you feel him glare at you, your face and neck warming up. “What?” You put your hands on your hips.

“It’s just that…” He swallows hard and smiles. “No one ever comes back.” He smiles again and forces himself to turn around, sorting through the drawer of bandages.

“No one?” You ask.

No one ever comes back? No one?! Is Negan’s harem of wives like the mafia, where you stay in and do as you’re told, or you walk with the dead? Were you really the only woman lucky enough to get out? How had you managed to dodge this stereotypical fate?

You shake your head and take in a deep breath, deciding to put it from your mind. You return his rare smile, even though you know he isn’t watching. The subtle acknowledgement from your colleague is the boost of confidence you need to start your day off right. For the first time in weeks you don’t feel nauseous. You don’t feel the need to go to that safe place in your mind anymore; that place where you spent most of your time in that little black dress.

“You never came in for a check-up while you were…” He has enough sense not to finish his sentence. As loyal he is to Negan, his respect for you reigns supreme. He opens another drawer and examines the inventory of needles and syringes, struggling to make eye contact with you.

“Would I be too bold to suggest a pregnancy test?” He keeps his head down, fingering the large bore needles.

Pregnancy test. Pregnancy test. Pregnancy test!You say the words in your mind so many times that the syllables lose their meaning and sound like a foreign language. Why didn’t you think about that? You’re a nurse! Did you think you were immune to getting pregnant just because it was the end of the world? Or because you hadn’t been with anyone until Negan? Did you think that just because you didn’t want it to happen, that it couldn’t? God, how could you have been so careless?

“That is, unless the two of you didn’t…” Doctor Carson faces you with a pink and white box in his hand.

“No,” You sigh. “We did, but…” You think about the last time you had your cycle, and how you weren’t there long enough to sync up with Negan’s other wives. “I can’t take it until next week.”

Doctor Carson nods and puts the box back in the cabinet.

“So, uh, how’s Marshall holding up?” You ask, trying to change the subject away from your reproductive organs. “Is his face… is he… okay?”

Doctor Carson’s eyes widen, his pale blonde eyebrows disappearing into his forehead. He holds onto his stethoscope tightly as your words travel through the air and into his ears. “He didn’t tell you?”

What? Why does everyone in this office feel the need to ask if Negan tells you things? He doesn’t! Obviously! Jesus! Just tell me! What is it? Is he okay? “Tell me what?” You finally verbalize.

He steps toward you, placing his hand on top of yours as it rests on the exam table. “Your friend Marshall had a heart attack after Negan burned him with the iron.” He looks you in the eye. “The stress from his leg and the burn, and our lack of IV fluids, heparin, and antibiotics… he was fine after I washed his face and placed a bandage on him, but the next morning…” he lets out a long sigh and looks down at his brown leather shoes. “I did everything I could for him. The other men usually don’t have any other ailments when I…”

You nod silently. You’re not sure why, but in the back of your head you already knew that he wasn’t going to last long. You knew that agreeing to be Negan’s wife would only help a little, if at all. Even if Negan wanted to keep him safe, there is only so much Doctor Carson could do for him.

You’ve seen patients in worse condition recover and walk out of the hospital, but that was with a full staff and endless medical supplies. It’s only a matter of time before everything starts to expire, the bandages and saline run out, and herbal medicine comes back into practice. Maybe you should start consulting old texts…

“I’m so sorry.” He squeezes your hand as you stare off into space, bringing you back to the present.

“I know you did what you could, of course I know that.” You force a smile.

“After he passed, his girlfriend and her sister…”

Oh God, there’s more. Please don’t say it. Please don’t tell me they’re gone too. You were supposed to protect them, all of them. And now look at where you are. Look at what you’ve done! You’ve led them all to the slaughter! Because of what? A deep voice and a charming smile?

“They couldn’t stay here without him. At least I think that was their reasoning behind…”

You put up your hand to silence him. You don’t want to hear anymore. You can’t. You shake your head and press your lips together into a thin line. Three of your friends are gone. Gone! The three friends who watched mothers and fathers, sons and daughters get eaten alive by the walking dead. The three friends that listened to your ideas and hid in treetops to avoid herds of animated corpses from reaching you. The three friends who trusted you to bring them into the Sanctuary to get Marshall the help you thought he so desperately needed.

If only you had just kept walking. If only you had let Marshall die in the woods that day; then there would only be one person’s blood on your conscience. If only you were still living in the branches of oaks and elms as you traveled even further south. If only…

“It’s normal for people to experience the stages of grief out of order.” He tells you, letting go of your hand. “Nowadays it’s only a matter of time before we lose the ones we love. Acceptance often comes before Denial.” He takes in a deep breath. “I didn’t want to tell you this way, especially on your first day back…”

“It’s fine.” You sniff as you feel the tears start to well up in your eyes. “I’m glad you did.”

You look up at the hazy light in the ceiling, tilting your chin toward the sky. You wait for your tears to dry in their sockets and walk over to the controlled substances cabinet, trying to distract yourself. “Should we start our inventory for the day?”

[lifeafterten]

RtN 02: Sept 02 -Sept 12; Get Me the FUCK Outta Here

I’ve been here for days. Who the fuck stays in the hospital for days?... Fucked up people. And I’m in Fucked-Upville-- Population (points to self) this mother fucker. 

Okay. Okay. I’m turning the drama down.  Honestly though... I’ve been here a fucking while. I have an I.V. tube in each arm, one for fluids, because I’m perpetually dehydrated, the other is for the antibiotics that don’t seem to be working, because I still feel like death. I have to often lay in awkward positions so I don’t tangle myself and make the machines go off. So. Much. Beeping. And I swear to Christ, if they come at you with a little blue bag and claim it’s potassium... RUN--Fucking run, because once they hook your ass up to that shit you’ll feel like they’re injecting fire into your veins and you can’t scream because let’s face it: you’re too damn tired, so you settle for some weird case of facial Tourettes in the form of wincing and hissing. And they turn the drip down enough for the fire to feel like a sting... and you feel that effervescent sting until it’s done. It’s “supposed” to take 30 minutes-- they say. But my pansy ass can’t take the heat so the slowed down version makes it last at least an hour and some change. I pray I’m not stubborn enough today to take the morphine.  Why won’t you take the morphine, Ashley? I’ll fucking tell you why-- I have control issues.  And the morphine feels too fucking good that I need the pain to remind me that I’m still alive and to gauge between dream and reality.

At this point I’m agitated (by pain and impatience). I’ve been stuck by damned needled so many times, because of all the bloodletting I’ve been doing.  These assholes have been taking my life source (no, not coffee, you freak) twice a day. Oh, I’m sorry, they’ve been taking my “blood cultures” twice a day.

Why? They don’t say. They tell me to ask my doctor. My doctor is a pussy.  Soft spoken; pussy footing fucking pussy, who can’t give me a straight answer.

I dismiss my doctor more than a person dismisses alcoholism. Day drinking is not a bad thing. Who cares if it’s barely noon and you’ve been drinking since 9. ... Not speaking from experience-- Anyway!

I dismissed my doctor a lot. I couldn’t help it. I’ve been laying up in this bitch for weeks and you can’t give me some indication of what’s going on; let alone a time frame of when I’ll be able to go home-- on top of a mother fucking reason why I’m being kept in here for so damn long? Yeah. Fuck that shit. Dismissed, mother fucker. I have no fucks to give for useless asshats. Come talk to me when you can tell me what the fuck’s up. 

I’ve been moved to three or four rooms. From the ER bed to Surgery... Then to another room in Surgery... to the Telemetry ward, because my heart rate was too high-- which honestly I’m not surprised... I’ve been on permanent pissed the hell off for quite some time now.  They take my vitals every 30 minutes.  I’ve been counting because I literally have nothing else to do, besides... I only feel that it’s fair that I monitor them while they monitor me. But mostly it’s because I’m bored and there’s nothing on TV.  By now I’ve refused visitors.  I’ve dodged death a couple times.

Homicide via Mio overdose: Backstory: I asked for Mio, because they kept saying I was dehydrated and I thought I needed electrolytes like a muh’fug, so when my friend Kris came by (note she had no idea what Mio was let alone how to use it) and had dumped an entire bottle of Mio (24 servings) into my water jug (16 - 24 oz tops). I take one sip of it and I thought I was gonna die. Chest was on fire. My machines were going crazy, because I was coughing my lungs out and poor Kris is panicked and distraught. Its hard to convey you’re okay if you’re croaking like you’ve been smoking for about 300 years and your vision is obscured by tears. Sidenote: The incident still brings her to tears to this day, she feels so bad. Personally, I think it’s adorable and funny... Now, at the time...? Owie.

Suicide via Mother doth Love too much: I love my mother. I do. I love my entire family. But they like to hover and it was stifling. They’re looking at me with worried eyes when they think I’m asleep and I get it.  It doesn’t look good, kid.  My sister? God love her, she tries to keep the worry and her tears in check because she knows I don’t know how to handle them.  My Dad? Shit, my dad knows what’s up. He knows I’m gonna handle my shit the only way I know how. On my own terms. This is why I’m a daddy’s girl. My brother and sister in law on the other hand? My bother spilled water down the front of my gown (had to change that shit. not fun) and his wife, in her efforts to break my fever, stuffed my fresh new gown with ice packs.. And when I say ice packs, I mean latex gloves filled with ice stuffed in my gown. Stuffed. In. My. Fucking. Gown. That’s it-- I’ve had it! Everyone’s banned.

And it’s also hard to put on a tough front when all I wanna do is cry, but I end up just being angry instead.

The only human interaction I had is when the nurses are taking my blood, or my vitals, or switching my IV bags, or helping me to the bathroom to do bathroom things, or giving me sponge baths because I’m too weak to get out of bed, or shooting morphine into my body to ease my torment; or shoving pills down my fucking throat because nothing is fucking working. I’m still getting fevers out of nowhere.  People are coming in and out every morning to lift my gown up (they do it so much they don’t even ask anymore. A brief thought of charging them crosses my mind, and I allow a small giggle. Because it’s silly, because I’m glad I still had somewhat of a sense of humor.) Still, I think my cooter deserves some ounce of respect. Women’s lib and all that crap. I’ve turned this part of the day into a game (I’m SO fucking bored). I like to spot the face tightening moment when they assess whatever the fuck is going on with my leg (I don’t know. I haven’t seen... I don’t want to see yet). 

It’s fun for me, because they’re medical professionals-- they’re supposed to be used to this kind of thing. But the face tightening? To me that’s a victory. That just means they have to school their expressions to indifference so as to not alarm me. Ah, bed side manner.  They’re so sweet. But I know just by their non-expressions that it looks fucked up. I have to look at the small details; read between the lines of what they’re not telling me.  I’d be in the dark otherwise. What are they not telling me? I know they’re testing for something... But I don’t know what they’re testing for. I stamp down fear, because I don’t have enough data to panic.

My dreams are getting scarier, because of the morphine. No more morphine, I promise myself. Vicodin only.  Yeah, that seems safer. The nurses, I’ve learned, just need someone to listen to them. Since I can’t get a decent night’s sleep because they’re fucking coming in every 15 to 30 minutes all day, every day, all the fucking time... Why the fuck not? I got nowhere else to be. I seem to have opened Pandora’s Box, because it’s 3am and I’m giving life advice to Agnes who has a very rebellious son, whom I point out is 16 years old and he’s going through a phase, it doesn’t mean she’s a bad mother.  Which I reminds me that I need to tell Doris who’s part of the Day crew that Agnes is off on Wednesdays too and that they should hangout together, because I think they would get along. I make a mental note to pass Agnes’ number to Doris later. I really should start charging... This pro bono shit aint working out. 

During my hospital stay I’ve managed the following:

Make only 4 nurse assistants cry

Befriend most if not all the Filipino nurses (they gave me all the apple sauce I wanted)

Make that one stern Indian Night Nurse smile (she gave me yogurt and bananas every time she was on shift)

Counsel only 5 to 6 nurses, mostly 5.. the 6th one kinda got weird. Didn’t take whatever she gave me.

Snob my doctor almost every day. 

Made my main nurse laugh because she thinks I’m a riot. 

Days later it was time for me to go home. I knew this for damned sure.  I saw so many specialists from an infectious disease doctor to a surgeon. I was so fucking bloated from all the fluids they were trying to fill me with that they could barely find veins to stab to get their precious blood cultures from. 

I also decided that with my body like this the Mitchelin tire man was my cousin.

Sidenote: To hell with the Infectious Disease doctor. That heifer made me lay on my side for two fucking days straight. Fat load that shit did for me. With all the extra fluids in my body, it just shifted to one side. All it gave me was a backache and lopsided boobs... and some fucking fluid in my lungs. Fucking devil woman. I got a fucked up leg, I’m the size of a float during the Macy’s Day Parade, and now I got lopsided tits. It’s funny... now. At the time? Not so much. It was September 12.  I had broken out in a rash due to an allergic reaction to one of the antibiotics. (Let’s just add that to the list of whatever the fuck else is wrong with my body, shall we?) My “doctor” (doesn’t deserve the title nor respect. Sorry not sorry) was trying to get me to stay a few more days. I’ve had quite enough. I told him to get the discharge papers ready. I’m leaving. My fevers were gone. My leg wasn’t draining so badly anymore (ew, gross. sorry) I felt fine. Despite me constantly checking my hands so they don’t try to scrape my skin off. Fucking hell I was so itchy. I didn’t need to be in here. That’s when the good doctor decided to divulge that I hurt his feelings and that I was his least favorite patient. (Boo freakity hoo.) But I was a good girl and let him talk, said all the appropriate things. ... He’s still a pussy.  He was glad to be rid of me and the feeling was more than fucking mutual. I did not tell him to get fucked. I did not tell him to suck my dick. I did not flick him off. I did not throw shit at him. I was rather proud of myself. I showed great restraint.  But I did point out that just because he had the “MD” attached to his name, does not mean automatic respect. Respect is earned Dr. Pussy foot.  I signed the paperwork with relish. Jessie came to pick me up and I was whisked off to spend my mandatory (couldn’t argue my way outta that one) bed rest at the Joseph’s.  I’m so tired of laying down. TBC...

[kenzieam]

Embers and Ash - Chapter 5 (Eric X OC)

Rating: M (violence/torture/swearing/smut:p)

Notes/Warnings: Upcoming Trigger Warnings

Genre: Drama/Angst

Thanks everyone for the re-blogs and support!!! IT IS SO AWESOME!!!  

Please enjoy more of Eric and Fox!

@emmysrandomthoughts @beautifulramblingbrains @iammarylastar @tigpooh67 @bookwarm85 @frecklefaceb @mom2reesie @elaacreditava @badassbaker

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

Eric lay on his right side, sharing Fox's pillow, gently stroking his finger along her cheek and jaw line, content to just watch her sleep and be close to her. Fox lay on her back beside Eric, her left shoulder and hip touching him. As soon as Eric had lain beside her, Fox had relaxed fully and fallen into a deep sleep, a small moan escaping the lips Eric desperately wanted to kiss again. A nurse had come by awhile ago, frowning disapprovingly at Eric, and he'd glared at her until she'd left.

This was the calm before the storm, Eric realized. Once Fox woke, she'd ask about the baby; if she didn't already remember what had happened. Eric's heart ached for the loss of their child, and he couldn't fathom how devastated Fox would be. She didn't deserve this type of pain, and it killed Eric to not be able to shield her from it. The best he could do would be to hold her as she cried, comfort her with his touch and presence; with soft words and murmured promises that everything would be okay, that he loved her and always would; that they would try again for a baby if she wanted to. Eric's eyes roved over Fox as he stroked her face; some colour had returned to her skin, but she was still pale and drawn. She'd lost muscle mass, her collarbones now hard ridges, her cheekbones more pronounced. Her bottom lip was swollen and bruised, the delicate skin around her eyes a deep purple. Her knuckles were scabbed; she'd fought back, had refused to submit, had personified Dauntless. Eric gazed at the thick bandages on her wrists, they would be scarred unless she received the serum, he'd caught the glimpse of white bone as he'd fallen on his knees beside her in that hellish blood-soaked isolation cell. It didn't matter to Eric if Fox bore scars, he'd think her beautiful anyway, would kiss each mark and disfigurement until she believed it too. His body ached to touch hers again, he wanted to wrap himself around her, crush her to him and breathe in her unique scent; a scent that managed to both ignite his blood and relax him like nothing else at the same time. He'd been a tightly coiled spring for the last week, first with worry, then grief, followed by days of fear and anxiety, capped off with rage and devastation.

He didn't regret what he'd done to that piece of shit traitor; whose body Zeke's men had disposed of, he only wished he was still alive so Eric could kill him again, draw it out, a new cut for each of Fox's pains. His fist clenched beside Fox's thigh and he gritted his teeth. This wasn't the first time he and Max had been forced to question a suspect that way, wouldn't be the last, and Ellis would disappear just like the others had, no one asking questions about where he'd gone, why he'd left. Fox whimpered quietly and Eric turned his head to look at her. Her forehead furrowed and her bottom lip twitched.

"Fox?" Eric asked gently, caressing the back of her hand.

"Eric?" Fox breathed, her voice almost inaudible.

"Yeah, I'm here." Eric murmured.

Fox rolled to face him then gasped in pain, her eyes shooting open, wide with surprise.

"Fox?" Eric sat up, his hands hovering, unsure where to touch that wouldn't cause more pain. Fox eased back down and Eric gently touched her shoulder.

"You were stabbed on this side, baby. Just lay back." He looked around for the button to summon the nurse, finding it he stabbed it twice before easing back down beside Fox. He offered his hand and she took it, squeezing hard. Eric stroked her hair, murmured soothingly, his thumb rubbing circles on the back of her hand.

The nurse appeared. "You're awake. How do you feel?"

Before Fox could answer, Eric growled. "She's in pain, she needs something...now." His voice brooked no argument and the nurse hurried away, her cheeks flushing.

"Fucking Erudite." Eric grumbled, jolting slightly when Fox's palm cupped his cheek. He turned to look down at her, eyebrow raised.

"Be nice," Fox murmured. "Or people are going to think you're an asshole."

Eric snorted in amusement, the only opinion he cared about was Fox's and they both knew it.

Fox began shifting cautiously to her right side and Eric raised his arm to give her room. "Baby, don't move, it'll hurt more."

"I want to be closer to you." Fox whispered, rolling over with a pained sigh. "Hold me, please."

Like she even needed to ask. Carefully, Eric scooted his bulk closer to Fox's back, wrapped his arm gently around her and settled his head in the crook of her neck. He exhaled and buried his head into her hair. "Fuck, baby. I missed you. I was so scared....I thought you were dead." The confession came easily, Eric had never been able to hide his true feelings from Fox; she was the only one allowed access to his heart.

"I knew you'd come for me." Fox replied quietly. "He said you'd never find us, but I knew you would."

"I'm sorry it took so long." Eric whispered.

"You came, that's all that matters." Fox was quiet for a few minutes, then a harsh sob escaped her, her body bending into a bow of pain.

Eric lifted his head in alarm. That fucking nurse, what's taking so long? "Fox? Does it hurt?"

Fox shook her head and after a moment whispered quietly. "The baby....he's gone."

Eric exhaled hard, unexpected tears springing to his eyes; he lay his head back behind Fox's and tentatively tightened his arms. "I know baby. They told me.....I'm so sorry."

Fox sniffed, tipping her head back against Eric's. "I'm sorry," she murmured, her voice bleak. "I couldn't keep him for you."

Eric raised his head again, hand coming up to stroke her cheek. "Don't think that way. You were beaten, he targeted you and he targeted our son, it is NOT your fault."

"I should have-"

"No." Eric said implacably, he would not allow Fox to blame herself for this. "It is not your fault. Never think that, ever." He gripped Fox's chin and waited until she unwillingly met his eyes. "If you want, we can try again...when you're ready."

Fox nodded and closed her eyes, tilted her head back to rest again against Eric's. Closing his eyes, he relaxed against her, his breath fanning her cheek. "I love you." He murmured.

The nurse returned in a flurry of motion and Eric opened his eyes to glare at her. She flicked her gaze briefly over Eric holding Fox against him and her mouth set in a thin line, but she knew better than to say anything now. This was one of those Dauntless savages, he was protecting his mate and it was well known in Erudite that they were like animals in this regard, possessive and violent if threatened. She inserted a needle into Fox's IV line and depressed the plunger on the syringe. The liquid was faintly tinged red and thicker than water; it would ease Fox's pain for at least six hours. She pulled another syringe from the tray she'd brought and injected that one too. This was Fox's antibiotic and the nurse felt the man's eyes on her as she worked. She had no doubt that if she made the wrong move, threatened Fox in anyway that this massive man wouldn't hesitate to attack, would pound her to red jelly on the floor.

"Thank you." The woman said softly and the nurse smiled at her, moved over to the side of the bed to look down at her.

"Do you need anything else? Are you hungry?"

"I am actually." Fox confessed.

"I'll bring you something, that shot I gave you should start working right away." The nurse stood and left, breathing deeply again as she left the room; that man was intense, his devotion to her patient an awe-inspiring and intimidating thing to behold; she wouldn't want to be on the wrong side of him. ______________________________________________________________________________________________________

Fox rested again after she ate, and Eric held her tightly as she cried in her sleep, murmured to her and pressed gentle kisses to her hair and throat, stroked her arm and tenderly down her side until she stopped crying and relaxed back against him. Lulled by Fox's warmth and scent, Eric too fell asleep, his face buried in her hair, their bodies pressed together, his cheeks wet as he cried silently for the loss of their son. ______________________________________________________________________________________________________

Fox lasted three more days in the Erudite hospital before Eric worried that she would snap and lay the beatdown on someone.

Four and Tris had come by with clothes for the both of them; and Max had stopped by too, informing Eric that he was giving him another two weeks off to help Fox, and that he'd meet with Fox when she was ready to talk about coming back to work.

They met with the doctor who arranged for Fox to stay one more night and, since her infection had cleared, finally be given the healing serum, it was earlier than the doctor would have liked, but he understood that Fox was Dauntless and therefore patience wasn't a virtue. Eric spent the night with Fox sedated in his arms, her skin hot as her healing accelerated. She woke the next morning and waited nervously while Eric unwound the bandages from her wrists. The skin was smooth and clear again, with only a faint network of silvery scars, visible only if you were looking for them. Her ribs held a small mark as well, and Fox frowned in distress until Eric lowered his head and kissed it, then gently pulled her wrists to his lips to kiss them as well.

"You're beautiful." He breathed, lifting her chin to gaze into her eyes.

"You just want some." Fox snorted, softening her words with a grin.

"Well, yeah...that too." Eric grinned back.

Fox rolled her eyes and pushed at his chest. Eric caught her hands and pulled her to him for another kiss before letting her go.

"Ready to get outta here?"

"Fuck yes." Fox laughed. ______________________________________________________________________________________________________

The doctor had discharged Fox only after securing a promise from both Eric and Fox that she would stay on bed rest; and come back to be cleared by him before heading back into the training room. Eric was more willing to comply with that than Fox, and gave in to her pleas to go down to the Pit to celebrate her freedom with their friends only after she promised to spend the next full day in bed.

Eric hovered protectively next to her the entire time, rarely not touching her in some way, whether it be with his arm around her, or pulling her to sit on his lap or setting her between his thighs and hugging her from behind. Despite starting out strong, Fox quickly grew tired and, leaning back against Eric, asked quietly in his ear.

"Can we go home soon? I'm more wore out than I thought."

"Of course, baby." Eric murmured, standing almost instantly and pulling Fox up with him. Picking her up bridal style he said their goodbyes and began carrying her back to their apartment.

"Think I overdid it tonight." Fox murmured.

"Mmmm." Eric nuzzled Fox's hair. "You promised to stay in bed tomorrow."

"Only if you stay with me." Fox murmured back.

"Try and stop me." Eric whispered huskily.

Reaching their apartment, Eric entered the code and stepped inside. He kicked the door shut and carried Fox into the bathroom. Reaching in, he turned on the shower and set Fox gently down onto her feet.

"Want me to stay in here with you?" He asked. The doctor had pulled Eric aside yesterday and given him the rundown on how to help Fox recover; her body was almost back to normal due to the healing serum, but emotionally and psychologically she was still wounded and vulnerable; he'd cautioned Eric to prepare for rough patches ahead, nightmares, flashbacks, and irrational anger or sadness.

Fox lowered her eyes and nodded. Quietly, Eric reached out and began to undress Fox; once stripped he pushed her gently under the spray and pulled his own clothes off, climbing in behind her. Fox stood, her head lowered, letting the water pound over her shoulders and back. Although Eric had never shared the shower with Fox without holding against the wall and burying himself inside her, he told himself to forget that. Fox didn't need that right now, she needed time.

He washed her hair and cleaned her body, moving carefully over places he knew had been injured or bruised. Fox relaxed under his ministrations and waited quietly while Eric quickly soaped himself and rinsed off. Pulling on a muscle shirt and boxers, Fox slid under the covers and sighed as Eric climbed in behind her, tentatively touching her shoulder, not wrapping himself around her until she nodded in consent.

"Sleep well, baby." Eric murmured. If he was going to be completely honest with himself, he was finding it a little difficult to be laying beside Fox without making love to her, but he forced himself to relax. He would love her when she was ready, not before.

Fox's trembling pulled him from his thoughts. She was shaking, sobs wracking her body, but not making a sound. Eric tightened his arms carefully.

"Baby, I'm here, you're safe."

"Eric." She moaned, the agony in her voice tearing right into Eric's heart. He reached up and stroked her hair back from her face, pressed gentle kisses to her throat, murmured that everything was going to be alright. Gradually, her tears slowed and she relaxed into sleep.

Eric pressed one last kiss to her throat then lay back, nuzzling his face into Fox's hair. He'd hold her forever like this, would wait forever for her to return to him.

[drferox]

20 Questions with Dr Ferox #8

My gosh, there’s just so much stuff you vetlings want to know, isn’t there? Well, knowledge is good, so here we go with yet another info dump as I try to answer a big slew of your questions in one hit.

Anonymous said: I sometimes get your patreon emails or an update on your blog while I'm studying/struggling in the wee-hours of the morning (vetmed). I'm in WA, so where-ever you are it's also late/early. What are you doing up in the witching hours?

First of all, I am an AdultTM and as such I am permitted to set by own Bed Time. There are many reasons why you might receive notifications from me so ‘early’.

I have a blog post on queue every morning between 5am and 6am my time (so probably 3am and 4am your time). It goes up automatically, so I can see initial responses before I go to work.

I think Patreon sends its emails at the same time each day, regardless of when I post. I certainly don’t type there early in the morning.

Sometimes I’m on nightshift and can get kinda bored at 3am sometimes.

Sometimes I just can’t sleep, especially with the changing day/night cycles.

Most of the blog runs on queue, honestly. At least three posts a day do.

@banesidhe said: Just happened to discover your blog. Thank you so much for posting like you do (even the snark. I'm a 911 dispatcher, I appreciate the snark ;) ), and sharing your experiences. No vet question, but if you could only ever re/read five books for the rest of your life, which five titles would make your cut?

Ah, I have found many similar people to myself among emergency personnel. There’s a particular combination of gallows humor and wishing people would get to the point that unites us.

For fiction books:

Feral, Kerry Greenwood

The Shepherd’s Crown, Terry Pratchett

Monstrous Regiment, Terry Pratchett

Watership Down, Richard Adam

Good Omens, Terry Pratchett & Neil Gaiman

Hmm, bit of a trend there.

But the work books I couldn’t live without are:

Plumb’s Veterinary Drug Handbook

The 5 minute veterinary consult, Dog and Cat Edition

Ettinger’s Textbook of Internal Medicine, Expert Consult

BSAVA Rabbit Medicine & Surgery Handbook

Small Animal Surgery, Fossum.

Anonymous asked: what was the most exotic/rare patient youve ever had?

This fat meerkat.

Anonymous said: My dog is a shelter dog and we suspect she was abused before we got her (afraid of E V E R Y T H I N G) and weve been slowly working on getting her to at least ignore people we walk past or that enter the house and thats been making progress. But she hates the vet. Hates it. Gets in my lap and refuses to leave. New dogs people and smells. So her normal vet takes the approach of having one of us hold/console her while they do all the poking and listening and whatnot and muzzling her if they need to and just getting it done as quickly as possible. But this last time she saw a new vet and this vet took the approach of hand-feeding her almost an entire bag of treats and called it "stress-eating" and tbh you should have seen the look on my dogs face. She was so weirded out. Shes highly food motivated so it was like heaven to her but she was simultaneously very suspicious. Her face was like"i love this but idk if i trust it" it was great.Have a greatday!

If you an reinforce the behaviour by arranging frequent, short visits to the vet clinic where nothing happens but lots of treats, she may start to associate the vet clinic with positive things (food) ad no scary things. This might make the rest ofher life easier.

Anonymous said: I own fancy rats and just want to put out there to people, that while they are THE MOST amazing tiny friends, in my experience most vets are completely lost when it comes to their care & several I've seen refused to even touch my exceptionally friendly females. They often get respiratory infections requiring antibiotics. One of my friend's females passed away bc nobody would perform a simple surgery on her. So please be cautious when buying them. 

I would like to suggest that any surgery on a rat is likely to be not simple, because they do have particular anesthetic requirements that can make their recovery difficult. Also that a lot of traditional rat medicine hinges on using post mortem examination as a diagnostic tool, which is not useful at all with pet rats.

In dog and cat medicine most of our equipment and even medications are not suitable for rats, or very difficult to adapt. We simply have fewer options, and generally less experience with these species Most vets I know will attempt to treat them, but with a great big disclaimer saying I don’t do this often, and a quick question as to whether you’d prefer to go to a nearby clinic that does see rats more often.

Anonymous said: Hello, I recently took in 3 abandoned kittens and they're covered in fleas. They appear to be 6 weeks old and can't use meds or wash for them. I clean them with vinegar and dish soap and I was wondering if you knew of any other ways to help them since they hate getting wet. I also use a comb but they dislike that as well.

You can use capstar on kittens from 4 weeks of age, and Revolution from 6, probably earlier. Talk to your vet.

Anonymous asked: Strange question but do you know if that rage syndrome thing can happen in cats also? I know a cat who does that and also acts strangely in general at the same time?

It is not documented in cats, however Feline Hyperesthesia Syndrome may present in a similar way.

Anonymous said: Hey doc! I plan on getting my cat fixed soon and I'm worried about how it'll affect her. She's really skittish and prefers to stay in one room, could getting her fixed make it worse?? I guess like what are the possible behavioral effects is what I'm askin? For the qt: ive been here a while i just dont like or reblog stuff but i came for the vet knowledge and stayed for it too, especially the mythical creatures and dog breed info

She is probably not going to have any long term personality changes from being desexed, though might be out of sorts for a few days after the anaesthetic. If anything they tend to be less stressed because they’re not attracting Toms.

Another Anonymous said: My kitten was neutered yesterday and he's doing great, healing well, playing nonstop, remarkably agile despite the e-collar (navigating small spaces, jumping to high places), eating & drinking well. The vet didn't give us any aftercare instructions but I googled it -- and wish I'd done so before the surgery because I could've prepared better. A lot of it seemed obvious in hindsight but nothing I'd have thought of on my own. Do you have a flier or anything for your patients' humans? 

We send our patients home with aftercare instructions. We have a default one that we print for routine surgery like desexing, and a customized one for non-routine procedures.

We also read it out to our clients when they pick up their pet, and point out that all these instructions are written down, because it’s easy to forget details when you’re worried.

Anonymous asked: I have a question! I saw your desexing cats post and thought I might send it to you. I neutered my male cat but he still sprays and tries to roam the neighborhood. I try to keep him inside best I can. Is there a reason this happens?

It may be stress, but you should consult your vet to rule out any underlying urinary tract issue before assuming so. Your vet should be able to discus the various stress reducing techniques, changes and treatments that are available.

Anonymous asked: Whenever my roommate wakes up before me, she makes bacon for breakfast while the coffee is brewing. If she hasn't slept well, her coherence is sometimes a bit... lacking. If our cat happens to demand food, about half the time she ends up giving him a slice of bacon instead of cat food. We only recently figured out that she's been doing this. He's not getting fat, and gets actual cat food later, so is this OK, or do we need to try to figure out how to keep this from happening?

While bacon is certainly digestible, it is not a balanced diet. It would be ideal if you could minimize his bacon habit.

@nowgovanish said: Hello! I have a question about my 13 and 4 year old cats. They seem to have some pretty bad skin reactions to certain foods, and I've tried a lot of different food brands that my vet reccommended. The one that seems to work best is a grain free/ non chicken variant, but I see that you aren't a huge fan of grain free. Is there anything I should change or try sticking with what works?

I have said many times before that if it’s working, keep feeding it.

Novel protein diets, and ideally single proteins source diets, are more use for allergies than just going ‘grain free’.

‘Grain Free’ labelling on food particularly vexes me because it’s not regulated. You can find ‘grain free’ food that really mean ‘corn free’ and either use grain byproducts or straight up use rice. Last time I checked, rice was a grain.

It’s like ‘Hollistic’ - it means nothing on a pet food label. Neither does ‘Organic’, pet food companies do not have to use all organic products in pet food to label the food as organic. These are marketing ploys like ‘all natural’ which are targeting your emotions and don’t mean anything when it comes to the food.

If you’ve come across a novel protein diet, or a minimum ingredient diet, that is beneficial for your cats then stick with it. But recognise what’s marketing and what’s useful.

Anonymous said: I love my dog but he is a complete and total moron. He has strangled himself so often that his bark is now raspy. He even found a way to do it with a harness! We've resorted to jogging when walking him to try and keep up but is there some way to make it better? We've tried letting him learn on his own, pausing when he pulls, and getting a longer leash. If he was much smarter I'd accuse him of being into asphyxiation.

I would suggest that you potentially need to figure out what motivates your dog most. Consider using positive reinforcement to encourage him to heel on the lead, instead of wandering and pulling.

You might also want to consider something like a halti collar, which pulls the dog’s nose downwards to their chest when they pull, instead of something that goes around the neck.

Anonymous: Would you consider it a good generalization that dogs more closely resembling/related to wolves (like huskies) have less health problems? I am aware that no dogs are completely lacking in health problems.  Tax: came for good hard factual analysis.

No. And here’s the thing- all modern dog breeds are equally distant from their wolf-like ancestor, unless they have been recently mixed with wolves again.

Their health problems are different to those dogs with more extreme anatomy, but dogs that look like wolves are not inherently healthier.

@justslowdown said: a book i have discusses the man who created the GSD breed (aka isolated traits from a diverse population) pairing dogs with their daughters, granddaughters, great-granddaughters and onwards til more than 1/2 of the pups had to be culled. due you think this could be partially responsible for the health issues remaining more than a century later? "Very drastic inbreeding was espoused during the formation of the breed [...] to quickly form specific type" - The German Shepherd Dog by Ernest H Hart

Certainly.

This is called line breeding, where the offspring of a ‘perfect’ individual are repeatedly bred back to the same individual generation upon generation to try to recreate it. All you really do is lose genetic diversity very quickly and allow recessive deleterious genes to proliferate in the population.

This is why just about everywhere else that’s not the purebred pet world, this is considered a bad thing to do.

@eyestumblin said: Do you think horses would look significantly different if their wonky anatomy were more logical?

They would no longer be a horse.

@cirque-du-spoon said: I saw you mention sheep on the horse thread and I spent a fair bit of time on a sheep farm in Wales. The head shepherd once told me "sheep are born, they spend the rest of their life trying to die". Then he opened his landrover door, and the passenger footwell was maybe 6 lambs snuggled up to one of his old motherly collies.

The common phrase down here was “The aim in life of a Merino ewe is to die and take fifty of her friends with her.” It’s not really much of an exaggeration.

Anonymous said: I'm intrigued to hear the faults of sheep, lay it on me!

Oh I will. It’s on my list for a big write up.

@queenalia said: Hi! I love the post about why horses make no sense, and I was wondering if you would do a similar one for sheep (one of the most suicidal animals on earth in my opinion)?

It will definitely be done sometime in the next few weeks. As you understand, it’s not  quick answer.

@vulturegeorge said: Hey Dr.F, after reeding your "horses-are-spindily-legged-disasters" post and your comment about how sheep are worse, I was wondering if you wished to elaborate? I am currently working on a heard of 50 random sheep my uni bought with a ton of lung issues ... so it'd be super interesting to me. Question tax: came for the Lucifer story, stayed for all of your amazing advice & opinions. I hope you are finding balance between vetting and living. cheers!

I promise I will elaborate. I can’t leave a cliff hanger like that and not explain... eventually.

[theluckyjourney]

Kulani

It was ASEAN week and that meant no work for me. I savored those free days and spent most of the time resting and in bed. However, I kept tossing and turning as I really can't find a good position for sleep. Slowly, I developed pain in my neck which went away when I would put Moringa or Salonpas on those sore spots. But my neck on both sides, just under my ears still felt sore after the week was almost up. I thought a long shower would help but didn't. The pain kept nagging me even as I attended Joana and Genesis' wedding (Nov. 17), up to reception time. It was worse the next day as I lectured for my law class in Succession. After class, I decided to go to Nanay Inday to have my neck massaged and she said I had kulani (swelling lymph nodes) in both sides of my neck. She gave oregano leaves to place on my neck and advised me to sleep.

Brian and I went home and immediately tried to rest with no avail. As soon as I put my head on the pillow, whatever position, it hurt so badly. Brian got so tired of me complaining. It was then that I decided to text my doctor, Dra. Yarcia, 'Hi dra! Im experiencing neck pain and swelling (both sides po). Parang kulani. Cant sleep well. Kaya sumasakit din ulo, likod ko at joints. What can i do po?' She replied back and asked for my blood pressure and if I have fever. I said I had no fever and I don't know my BP. She told me to take Paracetamol. I told Brian to buy me Paracetamol and somehow find a way to have my BP checked. He was still annoyed at me somehow, as he himself was not feeling well too...and he had to take care of me still. He also questioned the need for meds, as he feels that it may affect the baby. I was so disappointed at him, all I can do was cry. I took care of him while he was not feeling well and expected that he would do the same for me. I was in pain and yes, I was complaining a lot...I was short-tempered and bratty. Brian just lost his temper and hated it whenever I cry, so he left. Knowing he was just blowing off some steam - I stayed in bed still uncomfortable as ever from neck to my belly - just crying myself into a stupor. Brian came back later with the meds and bbq burger from Burger Machine which he knows I like and some Yakult, as a way of an apology. The pain alleviated somehow and by some miracle, was able to go to sleep. Brian had to leave again to attend worship service and perform his church duties. He came back around 10pm and found me somehow looking a lot better. We both thought the worse was over. I thought so myself and was relieved that I won't be missing the worship service and my choir duties early the next day. At that point, I was wearing socks and layers of clothes under a thick blanket. As Brian got ready for bed, I told him to turn both the aircon and electric fan on and one by one shed my socks, some of my clothes and my blanket off. I was feeling a bit sticky and sweaty with all the layers of clothes I was wearing. Feeling a lot cooler, I fell asleep again.

And then, I felt a chill along my spine, coldness creeping from the soles of my feet and then to my back and all over. I cried out to Brian, who woke up immediately and found me having a fever and at the same time having the chills. He turned off the fan and aircon, and put back my socks, clothes and blanket on, while scolding me for removing them. For me, it was a terrifying feeling as I felt the chills over and over, and I was crying. I remembered how I was in a fetal position, years ago, naked on an operating table and an anaesthesia needle being injected onto my spine...and yes the chilling effect thereafter. I was reliving that moment over and over and the chills still did not stop. Brian lied on the bed facing my back side, trying his hardest to warm me up, but to no avail. He asked me what I wanted him to do and I said repeatedly to him, 'ampo, ampo, ampo' (Cebuano for pray). In our curled position, he started to pray (in Ilonggo) to our Amay, long and hard, both us crying, terrified for me and our baby in my belly.

The chills eventually subsided, but I was still hot as ever. Brian told me he was admitting me to the hospital, but I refused. I was adamant, going to the hospital meant I won't be able to attend the worship service and serve in the choir. He said I was not fit to be in the choir that day but I persuaded him, saying that I just need to rest again, there was still time for my fever to break and I'll feel better just in time for worship service. Brian had to leave me again. He had no choice, he had a cater order that day and had to go to the market. So he left again, promised to be back soon. While he was away, I tried to go back to sleep but was unable to, my head felt like it was splitting open and I was very hot. Trying to think of something else, I concentrated on Lucky. For hours, I was thinking about myself and forgot about my baby. I talked to him/her, asking how he/she was feeling. I told Lucky I was so sorry, despite getting the flu vaccine shot early on my pregnancy, I didn't take care of myself well enough to avoid getting sick. I concentrated on feeling my baby kick or move. I even intentionally rolled onto my stomach, but I can't feel my baby. Then I remembered what my doctor said about fetal movements, about getting sick while pregnant...and I started to worry because Lucky was not reacting. When Brian came back, I told him I can't feel the baby moving. He assured me that Bitok was still sleeping, but I was still uneasy. It was then that I decided to go to the hospital. We texted Dr. Yarcia about the fever and the chills. She replied and said CBC and urinalysis is needed. She also advised for my hospital admission. So, to New Era Hospital we went.

While at the emergency room, I told the ER doctor that I can't feel my baby. So the nurse tried to hear the baby's heartbeat but can't seem to find it. The ER doctor tried herself, but to no avail. I started to cry again, I feared the worst. But Brian tried to comfort me saying not to worry, he felt that those two personnel didn't know how to use the fetal doppler. We heard a heartbeat but I felt it was not Lucky's. True enough, what we heard was my heartbeat and not of the baby's. They took blood and urine sample, and soon enough was admitted to a private room. Brian texted my Mommy and Kuya. He needed someone to be with me while he attended to our catering business. I told him I need Jeaña, my sister-in-law, Kuya's wife who is a nurse. Hour after hour, a nurse would come in and try to check on the baby's heartbeat but still we can't hear any. I would point at the area Dr. Yarcia would usually position the doppler, but still no heartbeat can be heard. Jeaña and Kuya was there during one of those check, I just cried silently worried, Jeaña consoling me. I prayed again and asked God to forgive me my sins and misgivings. I said that there is really nothing I can do on my own, without His help and mercy. I have full faith that Lucky is His gift to us couple, an answered prayer and I pleaded Him not to forsake me at my time of need and not to punish me because I have sinned. I asked Jesus Christ to mediate and bring to the Father my fervent prayer, just as he did when we asked him to mediate and plea to God to finally bless us our baby. After I prayed, I felt thirsty and hungry. I asked Jeaña to give me some Skyflakes and Yakult. Just moments later, I felt Lucky kick. I remembered where and pointed to the nurse to check for heartbeat there. And there it was - a heartbeat - strong and steady. Another answered prayer.

Results of my CBC showed that I had an infection and needed to be administered with antibiotic thru IV. I still had fever and neck sores, and developed severe headache, colds and cough. I also complained of back pain but was alleviated when they changed the bed foam to a softer one and Brian was able to bring me another pillow from home. In the hospital, I was placed on round the clock check for fever, fetal heartbeat, CBC, and blood sugar. Round the clock, I was given antibiotics, pain reliever, insulin shots and nebulizer medication. I stayed in the hospital for 6 days, longer than I expected, bored to tears - I was not used to staying still and doing nothing. The TV had no cable, I was able to watch all INCTV and NET25 programs, but most of them were replayed. I had no choice but watch Eat Bulaga, Ika-Anim na Utos, Haplos, Wowowin, 24oras up to State of the Nation. The signal was intermittent, so Facebook was out of the question. Even texting I was not able to do. Ate Ping2x, my sister-in-law, Brian's older sister and business partner, stayed with me most of my hospital stay, which was quite a loss and sacrifice for my husband who really needed Ate Ping2x for our business, especially (and unfortunately) for that week was a busy week as they have cater services, party tray orders to attend on top of managing 2 of our store fronts. My poor husband was exhausted that week, clearly lacking sleep and rest. Though I looked forward to his visits when it was his turn to attend to me, while Ate Ping2x performs her duties in the choir, I would usually just give up my bed and have him sleep. He told me that though he tried to sleep at home, sleep evades him because I was not there beside him while he sleeps. It was a good thing that Janerie would come visit every night while I was there, we would talk, she'd give me massages, and for a while I would forget I was bored. I stayed in the hospital longer than I expected, and when I felt much better to take a bath, in preparation for my discharge, my doctors would come visit and say no, not today, maybe tomorrow.

There were things however that I looked forward to while I was in the hospital. First, when the nurse would come with the fetal doppler and I got to hear Lucky's heartbeat, knowing he/she is OK. Second, at 9am, deaconesses and ministers would go to each hospital room to perform the anointing of the oil for the sick. Third, worship services held at the hospital where I get to still sing hymns of praises even while I was sick. Fourth, when Brian would bring in food that I like (I never did like to eat the hospital food). Fifth, when good friends and family came to visit. And lastly, when Dr. Yarcia ordered for an ultrasound.

At that time, we still did not know the sex of our baby. Our past several attempts proved to be futile as our baby resisted showing his/her secret weapon. I counted the hours till my ultrasound appointment. But was delayed for another 24 hours because of miscommunication among the staff. I waited patiently again. There was nothing for me to do but wait, eat, sleep, go to the bathroom, repeat. The time for the ultrasound appointment came and Brian was right on time to accompany me. I know he was just as anxious to know as me. So when the sonologist, poked and prodded I couldn't help but tell her that we still did not know the sex of our baby. She said she can't be certain as my amniotic fluid was too low. But there was a 75% probability that we were going to have a baby girl. A baby girl!! I can see my happiness reflecting in my husband's eyes, though silent (and maybe a little overwhelmed), we're having a girl as our first born child.

Because my amniotic fluid was low, I had to stay in the hospital for another day to ensure that it'd be remedied. My IV drip was adjusted and I had to drink what seems like gallons of water. I still struggled with boredom though, anxious to go home, to go to work and perform in the choir. As we were then preparing for the Year-End Thanksgiving Worship Service, I did not want to miss another choir practice or worship service. I also had my Succession class to attend to, I was adamant not to miss a class day (but I still did, even after days in bed, I was still exhausted upon my eventual discharge). So I begged my doctors to discharge me, and said I'll come visit them as an out-patient instead. Somehow, I was able to persuade them and Friday, after 6 days of hospital admission, I was released.

It was only when I got hold of a copy of my medical certificate that I found out of my diagnosis - sepsis. I have heard of it before and I know it was a serious condition, that could lead to complications like miscarriage and even death. Diabetics are more prone to sepsis. Sepsis can manifest in so many ways, and mine started mysteriously with kulani. Had we not acted the way we did that week, had it not been for God's intervention and had it not been for my amazing doctors, loving husband, family and friends - I will probably be telling you a different story.

But this is the story. Of how lucky and blessed I am still. I will be forever grateful and thankful.

#25weeks #lucky