#so i called wil an idiot to counteract it

[mysticalsoot]

marry the idiot on the stage (request)

Request; You're backstage at a Lovejoy gig, you and Will have been together for abt 3 yrs now (some backstory)and at the end of the gig he calls you to the stage and proposes to u - @tobyloveswilbur

A/N; thank you for the request btw! I started this Saturday and somehow managed to finish it today whilst in the hematologists office. they sung the no more chemo song for a kid while I was there too, I did cry. anywho, I struggled a bit w making it super mushy so I had to throw in calling Wilbur an idiot and a dumbass so I didn't cringe so much I deleted it lmao. anyways, I hope you enjoy it!! (also did change the whole backstage thing a bit but it still holds the same concept!)

TW; none besides like swearing!

Pairings; Reader x CC!Wilbur

Pronouns; not mentioned but uses of y/n and l/n (last name)

Words; 2,041

masterlist here

—★—

When you started dating Wilbur you had no intentions of becoming Lovejoy's travelling techie that designed and programmed their lights and projection visuals. And you especially didn't imagine yourself being ushered on stage in the middle of the show by Wil himself. This was not what you had in mind by any means.

The day had started off slow, pulling yourself out of the hotel bed (and Wil's stupidly tight grasp on you) so you could get ready for the day. It took a good thirty minutes to coax Wilbur to let you go, and bribery did have to be involved. Once you had convinced him, you were up and attom, rushing about the room, grabbing clothes, brushing teeth and hair, tying shoes, packing up your bag for the day—you were like a chicken with it's head cut off but in the most organized way. Wil found it endearing—seeing as he woke up shortly after your tactical escape from his arms (he would say "his love" but he is one for the dramatics) he layed in bed watching you go about your tasks.

He found it oddly domestic, despite how not domestic touring Europe for an entire month away from home was. The thought of you getting ready in the morning after peeling yourself away from him, every day, under the same roof—the concept was magical. But he had already realized how much he wanted it. He knew it and he wasn't afraid to show it.

You stuffed a bagel you had saved from the day before in your mouth, holding onto it before you grabbed your computer bag and slung it over your shoulder. You saw Wil leaning against the headboard, watching you with bright eyes and a soft smile. You walked over to the bed, took the bagel in your hand and placed a kiss on his forehead.

"I'm gonna go work on the set up for the show tonight, I'll be back later." You smile down at him, the only time you can barely tower over him is when he's in bed, partially because he slouches so much.

He wraps his hands around your waist, "Can't it wait?" He whines, pulling you closer to him.

You laugh, "No, it can't. You know how long this tech shit takes." You wrap your arms around his neck and kiss the top of his head. You pull away.

He sets his hands on either side of him and swivels his legs to dangle off the bed, "I love you."

"I love you too," You're already halfway headed out the door, bagel back in your mouth, and you take a bite before holding in your hand. Not too long after, you shut the door and head down the hall to the elevator.

Wilbur didn't particularly mind being alone, but he found you always managed to minimize the coldness that lone silence seemed to have. You warmed him, and when you weren't there, he was cold.

He hoped that cold wouldn't be felt for much longer as he was going to propose today. Yes, there was a gig that evening and there wasn't much time for a private well thought out proposal speech, but he was determined this was the day. This was right.

He had everything planned down to a T, he had already talked with the band of wanting to propose sometime while on tour. The Eiffel tower during their France gigs was an idea thrown into the air, another idea was a private picnic on the roof of one of the hotels you were going to be staying in—they were all great ideas but Wilbur was determined. He would propose during a gig.

Everyone was on board, Joe was baffled at how he didn't think of that while the rest of them teased Wil on how dramatic it would be, in the best way.

His plan was simple, halfway through the setlist, he'd ask the audience if he could invite a special guest onto the stage—he figured he wouldn't have to ask since his fanbase loved you so much but he planned to anyway; it was polite. Then he would look to you in the crowd (he already established with their other tech guy for him to usher you into the crowd for you to "enjoy yourself"), and ask you to join him on stage. Once you did, he'd pop the question. He didn't have a plan for a speech like most proposals and despite the other's protests, he assured them he would be fine. He would let it happen as it happened.

While the band was going through their usual soundcheck, you were backstage getting everything for your side of the gig set up. You went through your light programs and made sure they were all set up and not corrupted—unfortunately the file has corrupted before and you did in fact cry alot. Once all the light setups were checked, the cords were plugged in and the programs were running, you hurried back to your computer to check the animations you set up. It was a simple addition you had suggested back in the early days, before you were even a member of Lovejoy's backstage crew. It was the idea that made them practically beg you to join their crew, and you couldn't pass up their pouts and puppy eyes. So here you were, rewatching your own animation that you made for your partners little indie band and checking wires and connections. You've had issues with the projector not wanting to connect before so you were very thorough with how you checked wire and wireless connections—and making sure it was even plugged in at all.

The ruckus of soundcheck dies out a few minutes later and the band comes rushing back stage, Wilbur's curls already beginning to stick to his forehead with sweat. They all chatter amongst themselves, you keeping yourself busy at the computer. A few tweaks to the animation later and you're preparing to set it up for projection. The tweaks were small, little things you noticed last minute but you decided since you had time, it wouldn't hurt to fix them now.

You don't notice the band has vacated the backstage area until a while later, when you realized Wilbur didn't stop and say hello. He usually does when they go backstage after soundcheck, he'll stop over by wherever your spot at the computer is. He'll use some random pet name he wants to use that day and then he'll sit there, his arms around you and his eyes trained on what you're working on. He didn't do that today.

"Hey, I can take care of the rest of the show if you wanna go watch in the crowd for a bit. Is that cool, with you?" The other backstage tech, Dave, asks. He's flat with his delivery, not meaning any negative or positive tone to seep into his words.

"Are you sure?" You're weary, you know he knows the gist of everything just as much as you do but you still worry something will glitch and he won't know how to fix it.

The other tech nods, and gives you a curt smile. You nod back to him and quickly head out the side door and through the hallway, there's another door just ahead and it leads you to the main floor where everyone is meant to stand, not many people are here yet so you get one of the first dibs on barricade. You go ahead and take a seat close to where Wilbur and Ash would stand, more to the right of the stage, and you go ahead and open your phone.

—★—

"Before we continue, there's one little thing I want to do first—" Wilbur looks around in the crowd for you before spotting you standing in front of him, smiling ever so lovingly. "Y/N, would you do the honors of joining us on stage?" He asks, softly bowing and putting his hand out to help you up. What a true gentleman. The crowd all simultaneously gasp, and then all chant your name in that typical Lovejoy fanbase way. Cult-like is the word for it.

"Of course," you smile and take his hand into yours and he pulls you up onto the stage.

"I have something to ask you, love." He grins, his eyes soft with love.

"You're so fucking dramatic, Wil. You're pulling me on the stage to ask me a question?" You laugh, smiling from ear to ear. He's always been one for thematics, big and grand gestures. And they're often enough meant for you at the end of the day.

"Yeah, yeah, maybe?" He pauses, a smirk curling up on his lips. The rest of the band is watching, Joe and Leandra giggling together on the farthest side of the stage. Ash and Mark give each other knowing glances..and you know you're in for something ridiculous now. Wilbur reaches forward and takes your hands in his, "Y/N L/N, you're my best friend, my partner, and despite our sometimes turbulent history—we hold a deep love for each other, and so,"

He pulls out a ring box before going on one knee—you notice how the box is painted, half teal and half your favorite color, initials written poorly on the top. Wilbur and his stupid chicken scratch. Seeing the outside of the box makes you want to cry at that alone, forget the fact you're being proposed to infront of hundreds of people. This man made you a ring box! How fucking cool is that?

"Will you marry me?" He opens the box to show a thin sliver engagement band, a vine engraved all the way around it. The audience whisper-chants say yes together, the band joins in shortly after.

"What do you think?" You pause, eyes squinting by how wide you're smiling, and the crowd erupts into excited whispers. Wilbur looks to you expectantly, his smile not dropping once—he knows the answer, he just wants to hear it, "Yes, I'll marry you, Wil." Saying those words broke something in you, in a good way, and you began to cry. You swore to yourself you would never cry if you were proposed to—but you couldn't help it. Seeing Wilbur so giddy to ask the question, noticing the time and work he put into the fucking ring box—it pushed you over the edge. He was so thoughtful about it that the idea of all that he went through to make this happen seemed to trigger the waterworks.

He jumps up off his knee onto his feet, he gently puts the ring on your left hand and you wrap your arms around his neck. He pulls you in for a kiss, soft and sweet. His hands are on your back and he's just barely lifting you off the ground. The audience cheers and laughs, clapping excitedly. There's "Congratulations" being yelled and you swear you heard someone yell "my streamer finally gets bitches!" somewhere in the crowd. The band joins in the celebration, clapping and cheering just before Mark yells to get a room.

You pull apart, slightly out of breath, but still smiling as wide as ever. "You're a sap, you know that?" You tell him, your hands holding onto his shirt where it rests on his side.

"Yeah, but you love me for it." He leans his forehead against yours, noses touching.

"I sure do, Mr Soot." You laugh a moment, before pulling away, "Now get back to your show, dumbass." You lightly smack his chest and he holds his heart in fake offense.

"You're so mean." Wilbur gasps, his tone betraying his attempt at hurt.

"Oh but you love it," You smirk, holding up your left hand that he just put a ring on.

"I do, don't I?" He smiles just before turning back to the crowd to start the gig back. You sneak off stage and back into the crowd, easily blending in for the most part, aside from the few whispers from the people just around you. Congratulations and I'm so proud of you's are thrown around and you smile. You're happy, you're content and you're so excited to marry the idiot on the stage.

[type2diabetestreatments-blog]

Ask D'Mine: Addicted to Benzos, Too Many Correction Doses?

New Post has been published on http://type2diabetestreatment.net/diabetes-mellitus/ask-dmine-addicted-to-benzos-too-many-correction-doses/

Ask D'Mine: Addicted to Benzos, Too Many Correction Doses?

Substance abuse with diabetes, doctors who don't like the way you're using your insulin pump — these are just a few of the prickly issues we deal with here at our weekly advice column, Ask D'Mine, hosted by veteran type 1, diabetes author and community educator Wil Dubois.

Send us your queries related to life with diabetes — nothing is off-limits here! (except of course specific medical instructions for your own care; that's what doctors are for)

Need help navigating life with diabetes? Email us at AskDMine@diabetesmine.com

Megan from California, type 1, writes: I am addicted to benzodiazepines, if you know what they are, and I'm wondering if the drug abuse can affect or be the reason I'm a diabetic now? I'm having a really hard time coming off them ... I guess my question is, can it affect my blood sugars?

Wil@Ask D'Mine answers: Oh yeah, I know what benzos are. But just in case some of our readers don't: They're a highly addictive family of depressant meds—tranquilizers in plain English—intended to counteract seizures, reduce muscle spasms, relieve anxiety, or serve as sleep aids. They act in a dose-dependent manner. Small doses have a mild sedative effect, middle of the road doses chill people waaaaay out, and whopping doses knock your lights out. Ummm... and I'm not even sure if I should mention this, but benzos are one of the media-hyped "date rape" drugs.

Worldwide, more than 2,000 different benzos are in production, but here in the U.S. there are 15 different types that are FDA approved including the trade names Ativan, Librium, Versed, Xanax, and my personal favorite: the 38-year-old blockbuster Valium. More than 108 million prescriptions are written for benzos in the U.S. annually, placing them at the number 11 slot of the top-20 most prescribed types of meds. For perspective, in sixth place, are anti-diabetes meds, with 165 million prescriptions. (Inquiring minds want to know the top three? In first place are cholesterol meds, in second place are antidepressants, and in third place are narcotic pain killers. Welcome to PharmaLand.)

Oh, and just so none of you judgmental-types mistake Megan for a low-life, benzos are handed out like candy by primary care docs, are highly addictive, and benzo addiction is a lot more common than you might suspect. Try this on for size: six percent of the U.S. population has abused benzos at one point or another.

In addition to being highly addictive, benzos have some nasty side effects from long-term use. As the drug's effect is on the central nervous system, long-term bad shit includes amnesia, hostility, irritability, and funky dreams. Withdrawal is also markedly wicked, not unlike the DT's suffered by severe alcohol abusers.

I remember my wife's grandmother, a sweet little old lady of 86 years old, had gotten addicted to very high volumes of Ativan prescribed by her primary care doc. She had been hospitalized for some other issue and the hospitalist (who must have gotten his medical degree in Mogadishu) stopped her Ativan cold-turkey, rather than tapering it down as any first year Resident would know to do. That night she attacked a nurse and pulled out huge clumps of the poor woman's hair.

She had to be restrained and we were called in.

Grandma had a wild-animal look in her eyes when I arrived on the scene, and she was convinced that I'd been replaced by an imposter. "That can't be Wil, he's too skinny!" (I had lost around 70 pounds following my diagnosis.) As we wheeled her out to the car she was screaming at the top of her lungs that she was being kidnapped by strangers. Oh, and she also started screaming that there was a bomb in the hospital and everyone should run for their lives. Interestingly, no one came to her rescue and no one ran for their lives. I don't know if that says more about our society or how respectable I look.

Moving on... did your addiction cause your diabetes? Well, we don't really know what causes type 1 diabetes, but I think we can be pretty confident that it isn't benzos or we'd have a helluva lot more type 1s on our hands. And let's not forget that benzo-addicted kids, while not unheard of, are a lot less common than benzo-addicted adults — while most newly diagnosed type 1s are kids.

As to the effect the benzos might have on your blood sugar, not much, or least not much that I can find. (Although apparently scarfing down a lot of carbs can make withdrawal symptoms worse in some people trying to kick the habit.) Of course, coming off of benzos is going to entail some serious withdrawal, which can be pretty grueling, as you know. I wouldn't be surprised if you had some trouble with blood sugar control during this time as your body will be putting up quite a fight.

For what it's worth, I did find one source, from the Japanese Journal of Pharmacology, reporting on a study in Brazil, on diabetic rats... and at this point I wonder if I should even go on? Oh well, what the hell: this study showed that if you give diabetic rats benzos it increases their insulin levels and lowers their blood sugar. But I couldn't even find out how many rats were studied.

So if anything, your addiction should help lower your blood sugar, not make higher.

That said, I think you should continue your efforts to get yourself clean, and to do that you need some folks on your side. You'll need to come off the benzos slowly. You'll need expert medical guidance, some counseling, and a ton of support from friends and family. And don't forget your online family. We're here for you, Sister.

Kellan from Ireland, type 1, writes: My endo wasn't impressed when he was going through my pump and discovered I was having up to 12 boluses per day. Even though I'm achieving much better numbers now than I ever was, he feels like I need to change this. If I'm achieving better numbers, then what's the problem??

Wil@Ask D'Mine answers: For about 12 years, my mom's VCR flashed "12:00" all the time because no one could figure out how to set the damn clock and it really didn't matter because she never did any timed recording, anyway. Did that make the VCR useless? Heck no. She could still make Blockbuster runs or hit the record button to tape something she was watching.

Was she using the VCR wrong? Maybe. But who the f--- cares? It was working for her.

And speaking of little old ladies, I have a little old lady patient we put on a pump about a year ago (she chose the pink one). Epic medical politics were involved, as her primary care doc was in another city but couldn't sort out her diabetes so she sent the lady to us. We decided a pump was the best solution, but her particular insurance would only accept a pump prescription from an endo. Then the endo wanted the little old lady to see the CDE in the endo's office, and this particular CDE was a complete idiot. No really, she was. The patient was a type 2 but the CDE set the bolus limit so low the pump wouldn't give the patient any insulin at meals (type 2s need more). But I digress.

Anyway, this little old lady had, pre-pump, been doing absolutely terribly. Her A1C was through the roof and her blood sugar was highly variable. Like all over the map. Ambulances were called for lows. She spiked into the 500s. She was what I like to call a CTW: a certified train wreck.

Over a couple of months I got her back on track. Her mornings ran a hair low, 90ish, but stable, and her peak after-meal readings were coming in around 160. It was a frickin' miracle in my book.

But her endo had a fit.

Why?

Because she wasn't counting carbs and using the bolus wizard.

Did I mention this lady has had a couple of strokes? Or that her eating patterns are very uniform from day-to-day? I didn't think she was up to learning carb counting, so I did an end-run and had her use a flat-rate meal bolus from the pump. We got a good basal rate set up, and worked out an effective correction ratio for her rare high blood sugars, all of which were triggered by tangles with her alcoholic low-life daughter. (Not that alcoholics are low-lifes; this woman just happened to be both.)

Was I using her pump "right"? Not really. Did I give a shit? Not really. Look, a pump is just a fancy syringe. It's "job" is to help PWDs control their blood sugar to the best of their abilities. I was judging our success by our results. Silly me.

The endo blew a gasket 'cause we weren't using the pump to the fullest extent possible. She got so mad she yelled at my little old lady and made her cry. My patient came back to me with her tail between her legs, depressed and defeated that her 6.1 A1C and lack of ambulance rides just wasn't good enough for the endo. "I guess I have to learn to carb count," she told me.

Or we can use the phone book, I said.

"But how will the phone book help me count carbs?" she nearly wailed.

I won't, I said, but we can use it to find another endo.

So I'll confess to being willing to break all the rules. When it comes to health, at least, I do believe the ends justify the means. My mom's VCR served her just fine with no idea what time it was. My little old lady controlled her diabetes just fine using 10% of her pump's capabilities.

Kellan, I think if you have to take correction boluses 12 times per day it's true that your pump is not programed to its fullest capabilities. And I guess that in theory, if you took too many boli too close together you could "stack" your insulin and give yourself a down-stream low. But if you're not having lows, don't mind taking the 12 boli, and your diabetes is well-controlled, then the problem is your endo's, not yours.

Ireland, huh? I think you and your pump should go to the nearest pub, get out the phone book, and find a new endo.

This is not a medical advice column. We are PWDs freely and openly sharing the wisdom of our collected experiences — our been-there-done-that knowledge from the trenches. But we are not MDs, RNs, NPs, PAs, CDEs, or partridges in pear trees. Bottom line: we are only a small part of your total prescription. You still need the professional advice, treatment, and care of a licensed medical professional.

Disclaimer: Content created by the Diabetes Mine team. For more details click here.

Disclaimer

This content is created for Diabetes Mine, a consumer health blog focused on the diabetes community. The content is not medically reviewed and doesn't adhere to Healthline's editorial guidelines. For more information about Healthline's partnership with Diabetes Mine, please click here.

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