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Rowaelin Month Day Eight: Single Parent Au @rowaelinscourt

Rowaelin Month Masterlist Where We've Been Masterlist

Warnings: nothing too major? ~6.5k words

Where We've Been, Where We're Going--Part Six

Aelin awoke with a start the next morning.

Sprawled out on the small couch in the waiting room, she’d forgotten where she was for the briefest of moments. Her dreams had been filled with running through a small apartment trying to get free from her pursuer. Constantly looking over her shoulder. The impending knowledge that she wasn’t safe. Needless to say, she didn’t sleep well.

As she remembered where she was, that she was safe, she sat up and ran a hand through her hair. The small window of the waiting room showed off an early morning sky that wasn’t yet dusted with the pinks and golds of a rising sun.

Outside the door were the usual sounds of a hospital: nurses talking quietly, med carts rolling, shoes squeaking on linoleum. It hadn’t bothered her throughout the night, for which she was grateful. The hospital was slowly waking up with the usual ins and outs of operation which meant Aelin would soon need to leave.

She only had a dinner shift at the diner, and she knew Nox wouldn’t be mad if she was late, but considering she was on an hourly wage and needed the tips, getting there on time would be better for her.

Sitting up, she stretched out her sore back. She’d have to make sure not to wince or waddle when talking to Malakai or she’d never hear the end of her stubborn refusal to go home to a real bed.

She stuffed her hair into a bun, certain it still looked like a rat's nest, and gathered her jacket and phone. The battery was well on its way to dying so the sooner she got to her car where the spare charger was, the better.

As she headed up to Emrys’ room for a quick check in, she ran into Yrene who was finishing up at a nurses station.

The brunette smiled. “Hey, did you stay here all night?”

“Yeah, I wanted to be close in case anything happened,” Aelin said.

Yrene nodded in understanding. She reached out and gave Aelin’s arm a squeeze. “He’s a strong man. And stubborn as they come.”

“I know.” She did her best to smile, unwilling to break down in front of Yrene who always appeared so strong and composed all the time. “I just want to swing by the room before I head back to Terrasen.”

“I’ll walk with you.”

Yrene initialed a patient file before putting it back where it belonged at the nurses station. Her hair was pulled back in a braid, but there were a few flyaways escaping. The curls framed her face, emphasizing her dark hazel eyes.

“So, how have you been?” Aelin asked. She didn’t know Yrene very well, only from the occasional check-ups and some medication prescriptions. But, Yrene had a quality about her that spoke to kindness and surety that Aelin appreciated.

“Oh, same old,” Yrene laughed. “A few nurses quit last week so my workload increased a bit.”

She rolled her eyes even as Aelin stared in slight horror.

“It’s fine,” Yrene insisted, “I get double overtime and everything. Besides, I’ve gotten really good at sewing up barbed wire injuries.”

“You still deserve a break,” Aelin insisted.

They stepped on the elevator to head up to the recovery wing. Unlike yesterday, Aelin was able to remain mostly calm. She kept herself as close to the door as possible still, ready to jump out at the first chance.

“Who needs rest?” Yrene chuckled.

“When was the last time you had a girls night?” Aelin asked. “You should come into Terrasen. You, Nehemia, me and Marion, we can have a night out of fun.”

That gave Yrene pause. She fiddled with the pager at her waist as she thought. Aelin had a feeling she knew exactly what was going through the other woman’s head: new friends, too busy, do I really have time, easier to ignore it. She knew those thoughts. As much as Aelin loved new people and having fun, she’d grown warier as of late. She knew how easily her cover could be blown, sending up a smoke signal to Arobynn telling him where she was.

It had come close to happening after the debacle with Chaol over a year ago and why she didn’t entirely trust the man anymore.

“If you don’t want to,” Aelin began.

“No,” Yrene said quickly. “No. It sounds fun. I’ll take a look at my schedule and let you know.”

The elevator opened up a floor and had Aelin bouncing out as soon as she could. Despite the care she took to hide her emotions and her unease, she’d been failing more often in recent weeks. She used to be good at it--protecting herself from other’s eyes. For her own sake and the sake of her daughter she needed to get back to that point.

“Great!” Aelin flashed her brightest smile. She had to be careful around Yrene’s keen eyes. The woman had seen some of Aelin’s past medical records--the healed broken bones and scars--and would know what they meant. While Yrene was a professional, and bound by HIPPA, she was still a good person who would look out for someone in a bad situation. As long as Aelin acted like everything was alright, Yrene wouldn’t comment on it.

She could hope.

“Marion doesn’t seem like the type to go out,” Yrene commented with light amusement.

They headed down the hall as dawn slowly began creeping in through the skylights and windows. It was set to be another beautiful summer day, even with all the turmoil surrounding them.

“Oh, she doesn’t,” Aelin agreed, “she’s always been a little closed off. She bit my head off the first time I invited her out to lunch. It just takes a little bit for her to feel comfortable around people.”

We all have things we need to keep hidden, she almost said. She bit her lip and kept those words to herself.

The recovery wing was quiet as they rounded a corner to Emrys’ room. Malakai was already up and in the hall as the doctor and a nurse did a morning evaluation.

“You look terrible,” Malakai said, giving Aelin an appraising look.

She rolled her eyes. “Oh thanks.”

“I told you that you should have gone home,” he said.

“I’m fine.” The crick in her neck said otherwise, but Aelin ignored that. “How is he?”

“He woke up,” Malakai said, “still groggy and confused, but he did wake up.”

“Good,” Aelin said, “that’s good.”

She glanced to the room where the curtains were drawn. She wished she could have gotten to see Emrys at least once, but she did need to get going, especially if she wanted to relieve Nehemia from Meiri duty.

“Will you give him my love?” she asked. “I need to head back to Terrasen.”

“Of course,” Malakai agreed, “go. I’ll let you know if anything happens.”

Aelin nodded. “I’ll check in with Luca and make sure he’s going to his summer classes.”

“Chaol knows what he’s doing,” Malakai reminded her.

Aelin kindly ignored him. She pressed a quick kiss to his cheek before turning to Yrene.

“Text me about your schedule.”

Yrene told her she would and satisfied, Aelin headed back to Terrasen.

…

Rowan stood at the top of the ladder and stared at the window pane he was trying to install. This really was a two man job but considering he knew no one in this damned town, he was determined to accomplish this on his own.

Last night he’d made the impossibly stupid decision of staying in Terrasen to help finish the renovations on the Inn. He wasn’t entirely sure why he did it--other than the fact that he actually liked Malakai and Emrys.

Maybe it also dipped into the idea that he wanted to make a difference. For so long he’d been entrenched in pain and war, blood and misery. For so long he’d done what others had told him to do to the point he never really knew what he wanted. Until the end.

Until that last raid when he’d made a deadly choice.

But this wouldn’t lead to death.

Unless he slipped off the ladder.

Rowan looked down. He’d probably survive.

Good thing heights had never bothered him.

He turned back to the window pane. With careful leveraging he could manage this on his own. But for the rest of the windows? Maybe he would have to enlist some help. Which would require talking to people.

Hell.

After another twenty minutes, Rowan did manage to finagle the window pane into place and secure it with the necessary equipment.

Sweat poured down his skin as she finally made it down the ladder. It was barely one in the afternoon and he was ready to call it a day. Even after spending years hauling equipment through the Kovac desert and sitting in a sniper's nest--there was something particularly grueling about this today.

He hadn’t been sleeping of course. Hadn’t been training every day, all day. His body was trying to adapt to its new circumstances and seemed to be failing miserably.

When his feet hit solid ground, he stripped off his shirt to wipe off the excess sweat that was dripping from his forehead. As he’d come to learn about this part of the state; it was endlessly sunny. The blue sky allowed for no relief. Not that Rowan wanted it.

He stood in the parking lot of the Inn, bare chested and let the sun pour down. He could taste the remnants of dust on his tongue and hear the quiet hum of cars drive past on the main road. If he focused, if he closed his eyes and waited--he was back in that desert waiting for orders.

The low growl of a closely approaching car drew his attention and he opened his eyes to the blinding light of the sun as a black SUV pulled into the parking lot. The engine cut off and a man hopped out of the driver's seat. He had to be Rowan’s same age if he had to guess. He was handsome with black hair and a charming smile. There was something familiar about the easy way he held himself.

“You must be Rowan.” The man proffered a hand to shake. He wore a suit that had to cost at least as much as the SUV he drove. “I’m Dorian, the city mayor.”

Rowan shook his hand but was otherwise unsure what to say to the man. He’d met many political types in his time in the army and hadn’t liked any of them. All he could really do was nod and mop his face with his shirt again.

“Malakai mentioned you might be staying in the front office for the day,” Dorian said, glancing at the ladder and mess of window equipment. “He didn’t mention you’d be working.”

There was such an easy way about him, that Rowan could see how someone could be disarmed by the man. Since Rowan could now count on one hand the number of people he trusted in his life, it was easy to keep his defenses up.

“I figured I’d try and repay them by helping out,” Rowan said.

He remembered meeting a business man out in Kovac who would essentially loot abandoned villages and look for any opportunity to get his hands on money. It was one of the things that led to Talbot’s death. And that final raid.

All because of one man.

Rowan knew why Dorian was familiar.

“Havilliard,” he said slowly. Dorian’s smile froze in play. “Dorian Havilliard. I’ve met your father.”

“That’s unfortunate,” Dorian said, “the man’s a bastard.”

Rowan eased back a step. Henry Havilliard had come to Kovac because his business was investing funds in the war and had wanted to see sites where his money was being used. Which had led to the attack miles outside of base camp.

In reality, Rowan knew he couldn’t blame the sins of the father on the son. He knew that. But it would be so easy to.

“You served in Kovac, didn’t you?” Dorian asked. “That’s mostly where my father invested.”

“Three tours,” Rowan said. Three tours over four and a half years. And then a year of training stateside before that. It shouldn’t have happened that way, he should have had more time between tours. Should have given himself a break, but after Talbot…everything had spiraled out of control.

“My father never understood what it was like to serve,” Dorian said, “never really understood what his work was doing.” He held Rowan’s gaze for a few moments before looking away. “Even with all the time he spent over there.”

No one understood what it was like. Not until they were holding a dying kid in their arms and had blood staining their lips.

“Did you need to get into the office?” Rowan asked. He didn’t need to talk about his military time nor did he need to try and bond with a Havilliard.

“No,” Dorian said, he cast another look over the motel. “I just thought I’d stop by and introduce myself.” He paused. “Are you planning on finishing the renovations yourself?”

Rowan shrugged. “May as well. Sartaq is still finishing my truck.”

Though, if the last text was to be believed, the truck would be finished by the end of the day.

Dorian nodded absently. “Malakai was worried about being ready for the county fair. You know--”

He was cut off by a loud squeal.

“Uncle Dorian!”

The small voice carried across the parking lot and was followed by the emphatic pounding of feet. When Rowan looked around until he saw running along the sidewalk toward them was Meiri. Her blonde hair bounced wildly about her face and an infectious smile beamed at him. As she got closer he noticed she wore a pink tutu skirt paired with a blue Spider-Man shirt.

Behind her trailed Aelin at a quick pace with Meiri’s backpack slung on one arm, coffee in hand.

“Hey kiddo!” Dorian knelt down as Meiri nearly bowled him over.

“You missed pizza night with Mia!” Meiri told him. She smacked her hands on Dorian’s cheeks and looked him dead in the eye. “You never miss pizza night.”

“I’m sorry,” Dorian said, he genuinely seemed apologetic. Though Rowan wondered if that was from missing the pizza of missing time with Nehemia. “Next time I’ll be there, I promise.”

Meiri held out one hand, pinky in the air. “Pinky promise!”

Aelin watched the exchange in bemusement that had Rowan wondering how often Meiri sealed deals with pinky promises.

“Pinky promise,” Dorian agreed. He hooked his pinky with hers.

Satisfied, Meiri turned to Rowan. Much like the first few times they’d met, she shied away from him, just a little. Though, she still eyed him with interest.

“Hi,” she said, “did you get pancakes today?”

“Nope,” Rowan said, “no pancakes.”

“That sucks,” Meiri said.

“Meiri!” Aelin scolded, dropped a hand on her daughter's head. “That’s not a word I want you using.”

“But Luca says it,” Meiri said. She shook her mother off and patted down her hair aggressively.

“Yeah and he’ll be in trouble too,” Aelin assured her daughter. “It’s not a nice way to talk.”

Meiri immediately became uninterested with the mild chastisement and ran over to the tool box sitting out beside the ladder. She poked and prodded before she found a measuring tape and got to work measuring out every little thing she could.

“I thought you’d be gone by now,” Aelin said, drawing Rowan’s attention away from Meiri who crouched beside Dorian’s SUV, tape measure extended over the tires. “Sartaq left me a message saying your truck was done.”

Rowan ran a hand through his hair, the sweat helping it stick back out of his face. He nodded to the pile of window and construction equipment off to the side.

“Decided to help out a bit until Emrys was back on his feet,” he explained. How long had it been since he last checked his phone? If he’d known Sartaq had finished he would have gone to pick the truck up.

Aelin’s expression betrayed nothing even as her head cocked to one side. She didn’t exactly trust him, that much was for sure. But she didn’t dislike him either. At least…as far as he could tell. Though, Rowan was certain that she’d never admit to such a thing.

“You should stick around for the county fair,” Dorian said. He had an earnest grin on his face that had Aelin scoffing, but Rowan didn’t think the malice was directed at him. “It’s a good time.”

“You’d do anything to keep numbers up,” Aelin said. She rested her hands on her hips and gave Rowan a look. “The reelection is coming up.”

“I’m just saying, food, music, and fireworks,” shrugging, Dorian looked a little chagrined. “And, there's a sharpshooting competition. Been around since the fair started. I’m sure Chaol would like the competition, no one’s beat him in three years.”

The offer was genuine, easily extended. Rowan, however, had no inclination to pick up a gun again. Not for a long time. And not unless he had no other choice.

“Yeah, maybe,” Rowan said. He ran a hand over his jaw contemplating if he could get out of this conversation by just walking away. He hadn’t touched a weapon of any sort in months, not since being discharged and the thought of handling something else…

Meiri ran over to Dorian, the measuring tape flailing behind her.

“Uncle Dorian! Your car tires are this big!” Meiri held up the metal tape that made a distinct whipping sound.

“Thanks kiddo,” Dorian smiled down at Meiri.

“Momma’s gotta go to work, can I stay with you today?” Meiri asked. She released the tape measure so it snapped together sharply.

“Sorry, princess, I’ve got a lot of meetings today.” Dorian cast an apologetic look to Aelin who grimaced.

“I should have texted you beforehand,” she sighed. “I guess I can ask Mrs. Olmstead…”

“No Momma!” Meiri cried. “She never has any cookies and she doesn’t like to dig holes. Plus she smells funny.”

Dorian had to turn away to keep his laugh hidden and Aelin’s lips were pursed so tightly, Rowan worried she’d bite into them.

“The cookies are the biggest crime,” Dorian said. He patted Meiri on the head. “I need to head down to my meeting. Have all the fun with this.”

He nodded to Rowan and gave Aelin a peck on the cheek before returning to his SUV. The car turned out onto the main road, disappearing around a corner with a honk in farewell.

It was only then that Aelin cleared her throat before plucking the tape measure from Meiri’s hands. “I’m sorry you feel that way, but she is a very nice lady. We can dig holes tomorrow.”

“Please, Momma?” Meiri clung to her mother’s leg and tugged insistently.

It was a moment that was amusing and endearing. Meiri in her tutu and large blue eyes and Aelin’s will crumbling bit by bit. Rowan could remember a similar situation years ago.

A daughter. A mother.

Each desperately clinging to the other.

“I can watch her,” Rowan said, the words leaving his lips before he knew what the hell he was thinking.

Aelin blinked, clearly shocked by his offer. Well, there was no turning back now.

“Do you like to dig holes?” Meiri asked. Her blue eyes widened expectantly as if it were the most important question in the world.

“Sure,” Rowan said, “I spent my summers burying my school books so my mom wouldn’t find them.”

Meiri pondered for a minute before she nodded once. “Okay. We can have pancakes too!”

She took the measuring tape back from her mom before running to his tool box and taking the level out. She held the tool in her hands with obvious care before heading over the window ledge of the front office.

It was easy to see Aelin’s uncertainty on the matter with the way she gripped Meiri’s bag in one hand.

“We can just hang out at the diner if you want,” Rowan offered. “You can keep an eye on her, I’ll color with her or something.”

For as long as he could remember, Rowan had never been a kid person. He’d never known what to do around them or with them or…anything really. The last kids he’d been around were his cousins but that had been ages ago, back before the war. And frankly, Rowan wasn’t sure if he should volunteer for this. After spending years around Lorcan and Fenrys combined there was no telling what Rowan would let slip.

Plenty and cursing that was certain.

“I,” Aelin began. She sighed and rested a hand on her hip. The tank top she wore left her golden arms on display. She even had a few freckles spotting along her shoulders. Summer looked good on her. “Alright. Marion has reading hours sometimes at the library, if you stopped by I’m sure she’d help you out.”

“Alright,” Rowan said. That would work out well. He remembered how much Sellene liked to read and Endymion could spin tales like no other. “We’ll stop by.”

Aelin slowly pulled a key ring from her pocket and unwound a key. She held it out between two fingers.

“I’m going to trust you,” she said, “don’t make me regret it. I’m off at eight, but Nox might let me leave early. You can go back to my place and watch Barbie movies if she gets too rowdy.”

Rowan accepted the key, tucking it into his fingers. The metal was cool on his skin and seemed to weigh a little heavier in his grasp.

Trust was a heavy burden to own and he really wasn’t sure if he deserved it.

Meiri skipped back over to them holding up the level so she could peer through one of the small openings between one of the bubble vials.

“Are we gonna get pancakes?” Meiri asked.

“Better,” Aelin answered, “Rowan’s going to take you to the library.”

Meiri gasped in excitement. “Yes!”

Aelin smiled as she crouched down next to her daughter. “Listen to Rowan, okay? I’ll see you tonight after work.”

“Bye, Momma! I love you!” Meiri threw her arms around Aelin’s neck, nearly smacking her in the head with the level.

Chuckling, Aelin dodged the near assault. She gently took the level from her daughter. “Let’s be careful with Rowan’s tools, these aren’t toys.”

Meiri nodded, the picture of innocence.

Aelin stood, drawing this good-bye out as long as she could. Even Rowan wasn’t completely detached from human emotion to notice.

“I’ll make sure my phone’s charged,” Rowan assured her, “and I’ll get your number from Marion. If that’s alright.”

“You have a phone?” Aelin asked, brow raised. For the first time that day she was actually directing her amusement at him and not disdain.

“I haven’t used it in a while,” Rowan admitted. The only reason he new where it was was so Sartaq could keep in contact.

Despite the small bit of humor she’d just displayed, Aelin still looked hesitant. One hand flexed toward Meiri who now butted her head into Aelin legs. “Just keep me updated.”

“Updates every fifteen minutes,” Rowan promised.

That got a genuine smile. “Thirty minutes is fine.”

…

“Do you like reading Meiri?” Rowan asked as not more than ten minutes later he and Aelin’s daughter were rounding the steps to the library.

The building was small, tucked right up against the post office. When they entered the double doors, Rowan got the distinct scent of fresh paper and static cleanliness that could only belong to a post office. It mingled with the subtle undertones of cedar and book musk.

“Yeah!” Meiri said. “My favorite is the story of the princess who has to go find her family in the lost castle. Do you know that story?”

“Uh, no.” The last book Rowan had read was…hell, he couldn’t even remember.

Meiri sighed. “Do you know the story about the ducks?”

“No.” Whatever fascination Meiri had once had for him was certainly draining away now. Quickly.

They entered the main lobby of the library where there was a large display of children’s books set in the summer months and a cutout of a puppy with balloons tied to its collar. Fly away with reading! Was written out overhead.

“Well what do you know?” Meiri asked.

Rowan thought back to what Sellene would have read at Meiri’s age. “What about Snow White?”

“She doesn’t have a sword.”

Well at least Rowan knew Aelin was giving her daughter a well rounded view of the world. Though, admittedly, a lot of fairy tales could be improved if the princess had a sword.

“I’ll ask Marion for help,” Rowan assured Meiri.

He found a small table where he could plug his phone in and let it charge enough to make sure it would actually turn on, before making sure Meiri was settled in the picture book section. He made sure not to go too far where Meiri was out of view as he looked for Marion. Despite how small the library was, he wouldn’t take his chances on Meiri running off.

It didn’t take long before Marion appeared from a back room with a stack of books in her arms. She paused when she saw Rowan.

“Hi,” she said, “what are you…?”

Rowan jutted a thumb back to where Meiri was picking out books. “I’m helping Aelin out with Meiri.”

“Aelin let you take her daughter out of her sight?” Marion obviously did not believe what Rowan was saying. She propped the books she held on one hip as she walked to the main counter. “She doesn’t know you.”

“Yeah,” Rowan said. He shrugged. “I don’t really know why either.”

Marion set her books down and brushed adjusted the bun her hair was knotted in. She reached for the small phone sitting next to her computer. Rowan didn’t even try to argue as she immediately began texting.

“Her shift just started,” he offered helpfully.

Marion only glared up at him. For such a small woman, she would have made an excellent army ranger. He could see her ordering a group of soldiers around without much effort at all. Hell, she could even give Lorcan a run for his money with that scowl.

“Why would I kidnap a five year old and immediately bring her to a library?” Rowan added after Marion finished her message.

“Because you’re up to something,” Marion said. “Showing up to a small town and offering no information about yourself. Helping out a family you just met. Don’t think I haven’t heard about what you’re doing for Emrys and Malakai.”

It had been, maybe, a half hour since speaking with Dorian and already the gossip was circulating.

Determination flashed in Marion’s eyes. As well as mistrust. Rowan had spent plenty of time trying to understand people, interrogating them, learning everything he could about them that he knew these subtler human emotions.

“I tell you my secrets if you tell me yours,” he offered. And then, to make a point he added: “Marion’s not even your real name, is it?”

That got a reaction. Marion stiffened, just barely, but it was enough to tell Rowan enough. It was a cruel thing to point out, especially given how protective and cautious she was--but he knew, he knew, there was something different about her.

“Can I have Aelin’s number? I told her I would text her with updates.” Rowan tapped a pad of sticky notes for emphasis.

Marion muttered a curse under her breath but did as requested. She handed him the note, jaw set with anger.

“Thank-you,” Rowan said.

He went back to where his phone was charging, unlocking it and disregarding the missed messages waiting for him. Those weren’t important. There were only three people who had his number and he didn’t want to talk to any of them. Well, technically a few others but dealing with ghosts never got him anywhere.

He tapped out a quick message to Aelin.

>>This is Rowan. Meiri is currently well on her way to emptying out the entire library.

He debated sending a picture along with it but decided against it. He doubted Aelin would want a near stranger having pictures of her daughter on his phone.

Hell. She must have been desperate to let him take Meiri for the afternoon.

Just as he moved to set the phone back down a new message buzzed through. He thought it was Aelin already responding until he saw the I.D. He should have known they would reach out like this.

<<im back stateside

<<we need to talk

<<its important

<<you cant ignore me forever

Rowan frowned. Well he sure as shit could try.

He locked the phone and went over to the small play area where Meiri was rapidly accumulating a large pile of books. She sat at a small table with a book propped up before her. One finger trailed along the words as she slowly mouthed the words out.

“K-k-kwik,” she said, “the dog was quick.”

Rowan didn’t know much about kids, but he had a feeling Meiri was far above the usual reading level. She glanced up when he approached and waved her book in the air.

“C’mon, you said you’d read with me.”

So, Rowan went over and took a seat in the tiny plastic chair beside her and read about the dog that ran all through a small town wrecking havoc as it went. Every few books, Meiri would get up and wander around to find another book or two and bring them back for Rowan to read.

She was so entranced by each story, Rowan didn’t have the heart to shirk his duties so he wound up doing voices and accents for the different characters. He made sure to send Aelin messages along the way--ignoring the ones from his old contacts--and just tried to keep Meiri entertained.

Eventually Marion came over with a coloring book and giant box of crayons for Meiri to color with. The girl happily took the items and set to work, choosing to go sit in a corner next to a giant stuffed elephant.

Marion sat in one of the kid chairs across from Rowan, chin propped in one hand.

“You know,” she said, “that kid is one of a kind. And Aelin loves her more than anything.”

It wasn’t anything Rowan was surprised to hear. Meiri did seem like a different kid than most. And Aelin’s love for her was one of the first things Rowan had noticed in the diner that first day in Terrasen. He eyed Marion wondering what she was getting at.

“When Chaol and Aelin were dating, well, if you could call it that,” Marion shrugged, “he wanted something serious and she was just trying things out. Anyways. They were doing whatever and he tried to find her family. Or…I think he did. Almost told them exactly where to find her too. I’ve…I’ve never seen her more upset.”

Marion paused, picking at a hangnail.

“I don’t know exactly what happened in her past,” she finally continued, “but I know enough. And if…if it was anything of what I went through then she deserves to be happy, to have this time and place for her and her kid. You should have seen the look on her face when Chaol said he found her cousin. I swear she was going to leave right then and there, murder him too. She just wants to raise her daughter.”

The words sunk in slowly, taking their time to nestle into Rowan’s brain. He could hear what was left unsaid and come to his own conclusions. It didn’t mean he could trust any of it. Not that Marion or Aelin would blatantly lie about this sort of thing, but they could certainly leave out bits of truth.

“I’m just here for myself,” Rowan said. “I’ll leave as soon as Emrys is back on his feet.”

Marion smiled. “Didn’t you say the same thing about your car?”

She was, unfortunately, right.

“Rowan?” Meiri said, scrambling up from beside that stuffed animal. Crayons went flying as she moved. “I’m hungry.”

He smiled at the little girl with her wild hair and mismatched clothes. Confident and strong just like her mother.

“Alright, let's get something to eat.”

If there was anyone that could keep her child safe from the wiles of the world, Rowan was sure it would be Aelin. He just hoped that one day, maybe, she’d be able to stop running.

…

The heat of Kovac dissipated only slightly when a storm blew in. Instead of being a dry and consuming heat it had turned into a melting pot of humidity. Dust and sand kicked up from wind and the few trucks that were still on the move, leaving everything in a hazy glaze. Adding to that a burst of rain and lightning, the desert felt like a whole new type of misery.

Supposedly, the one thing to come of it all was that there would be no scouting or fighting that day. Rowan wasn’t sure if he liked that or not. For a while now, he’d felt on edge. As if he were always waiting for something to happen--and IED to go off, a sneak attack to occur, something that he couldn’t fix.

He tried to play it cool, to ignore the way his thoughts would latch on to every negative and dangerous thing. Tried to pretend he was being logical in his worry, that he was simply preparing for what may come. It was flimsy at best and a part of him knew it. Ever since the raid last week and the reality that they'd be getting a new commander…Things were changing and Rowan didn’t like it. Lorcan or Gavriel were more than capable leaders and if Maeve wanted to divide the squad, she could just keep Gav in his current position and promote Lorcan. Or even Vaughan. Bringing in a new body now seemed like a stupid idea. Rowan knew better than to argue against Maeve when she had her mind set on something, though. It wasn’t worth the demerit.

He simply tried to keep his frustration at bay. His squad mates had only offered the usual glare in Maeve's direction at the announcement. They each felt the frustration but there was nothing to be done at this point. Not if they wanted to keep things running smoothly.

Unfortunately, they were set to meet Hammel that day. He’d arrived sooner than anticipated, which Rowan would choose to see as a good thing, a way to get into a new rhythm and normal before the next planned raid. In the week since the announcement, Rowan had done his own background check on Hammel. Perhaps it was an abuse of power to call in the favors he did, but he’d wanted to learn everything about the man he could.

He’d spent the last year and a half in Oregon on a small base up there as a trainer. Many of the men he’d worked with had gone on to get accommodations, many even being stationed in Kovac as well. There was a brief incident report of someone breaking into his off base apartment and beating his girlfriend before stealing some cash and the tv. Something about that didn’t seem right, but it was only one report relating to Hammel. He was an excellent marksman and scout but his true skills lied in stealth work.

Officially, Hammel was a good soldier. One of the best.

Unofficially…well. There was only one comment from a young cadet who had been discharged part way through boot camp after “over escalating” a situation between her and a fellow cadet.

Lieutenant Hammel did not take my comments or safety seriously in this investigation. I would formally request placement in another unit. The cadet had instead been honorably discharged before vanishing entirely.

It wasn’t a lot to base his opinion on, but Rowan was already coming to his own conclusions.

So when the official call came in for the Cadre, as they were known by, to meet with Hammel--Rowan did his best to let the irritation fade away.

"Gentlemen," Hammel greeted once they were all seated.

The briefing area was as hot and muggy as ever, settling them all with another level of discomfort.

Lorcan as usual chose a back corner seat, hardly sitting at attention. Gavriel maintained his decorum and the twins were as lanky and childish as ever. Rowan glanced at Talbot who had been whisked into the squad after the last raid and Hernandez transferred him. Rowan didn't know the reasonings, but he liked the kid so he didn't argue.

Before them now, Hammel stood tall and at ease. Though, there was no mistaking the cold silver of his gaze and the harsh lines of his face. His red hair hung to his shoulders and he wore a cold ring on one finger. He didn't seem the least bit concerned with anything but himself.

“I've heard you're undisciplined and like to cause problems." Hammel raised a single brow looking as though he couldn't have cared less about the lot of them. "Not under my command. There have been too many slip ups and unsuccessful raids. These mess ups will no longer happen or I'll make sure the rest of your weeks here are as miserable as your lives."

It was quite the speech, not that Rowan was truly intimidated by it. He'd already experienced hell and this man wasn't going to make things worse.

"We'll start with a practice training tomorrow, no matter the weather conditions, you've got to be capable of working through anything. Sniper!"

Rowan sat up, lifting his chin.

"Only five confirmed kills," Hammel lifted a lip. "Do better."

"None of my men have died in the last two tours I’ve done," Rowan said, "sir. I've protected my men."

That sneer only broadened. "When I give you an order, soldier, you accept it. No arguments."

Rowan only stared at the other man. He fought the urge to gauge everyone else's reactions. Hell, he wanted to see Gav most of all. Gav who’d been their leader for nearly two years now and was being sidelined for someone younger.

Rowan had known war wouldn’t be easy. He’d known he would kill, potentially be killed. He knew his perceptions of life would change and that nothing, nothing, would be the same when he was finished. But to be told to take more lives? To add more chaos into the world?

“Yes, sir.” Rowan didn’t salute. He didn’t move a muscle until Hammel turned the conversation to the next raid that would take place as soon as the storm passed and this time they would see results.

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.

Tumblr isn't allowing me to tag blogs properly so any reblogs would be greatly appreciated! <3

#rowaelin #rowaelin month #rowaelinmonth2023 #aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #rowan x aelin #throne of glass #tog #fanfiction #throne of glass fanfiction

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mbti-notes · 11 months

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Anon wrote: Hi, I want to ask for perspective on my working method as I've been getting complaints about my "behaviors". I'm an XXTJ. A doctor, confident in his expertise with great experience. I'm respected for my competency. I work in a big hospital where I'm well paid by the patients that want my service. This job is suitable for me because I can be professional without bringing up personal life. Being a senior doctor, I see myself as someone who has well-established working method and ethics.

But when I told my nurse so, she refuted, which took me by surprise & ruffled my feathers. She said that I was good as a health worker but bad as a doctor! Going further she explained that my way of never explaining anything to the patients whenever I give patients prescription is condescending, evoking insecurity & worries to them.

She went further by saying that some patients who had to visit my room said I was their last choice as they were afraid of me, & even reminded me of those who stopped using my service half-way to shift to another doctor who was better at “soothing them”. She dared to compare me with other potentially more incompetent doctors that could be only a “better” doctor due to her subjective, personal feelings ‘fueled’ judgments. “Some explanations should be fine, but you didn’t even bother” - she said.

Why would I have to explain about medicine to people who have zero knowledge on that? Wouldn’t their further questions be stupid irrational insecurities that they would project onto the ask? Why do I have to deal with that? They can’t heal themselves, so they find me. What you don’t know, you listen to authorities. I know what I’m doing, so listen to me. Don’t want to, don’t use my services. This has worked since I’ve been a doctor. I feel personally attacked because a nurse who doesn’t have expertise on medicine dares to comment on my ethics, her status doesn’t grant her authority to say that freely.

[addendum] I feel personally attacked because a nurse who doesn’t have expertise on medicine dares to comment on my ethics, her status doesn’t grant her authority to say that freely. But then, as she dared to comment on my pride, I went further by asking colleagues I respect about my method to prove her wrong. Disappointingly, some gave similar comments with the nurse. What would explaining things patients don't understand contribute to my working life, be It either productivity or moral obligations? Thank you.

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

I get more questions than I have time to answer, so I have to be selective, and I usually reject ones like yours. Among the many factors I examine to determine whether it is worth my time to respond, one of the most important is the person has to display a genuine motivation to realize more of their positive potential.

You not only don't display such motivation, you seem to be actively searching for excuses to avoid change. You even brag about doing the same thing for years, without realizing that it actually indicates an unhealthy resistance to improvement and progress.

Against my better judgment, I chose to respond, not because I believe it will benefit you, but because I feel for the people around you. If there is even a small chance that something I say can lead you to reduce the suffering/harm done to the people who experience your "behavior", my ethics requires me to take the chance.

One of the best ways to get the "perspective" you are after is to actively make the effort to see yourself through the eyes of others, by being open to their feedback and criticism. The nurse has helpfully provided some perspective for you without getting very nasty about it, but you have chosen to discredit her in a childish act of shooting the messenger, just because your feelings got hurt. If I end up agreeing with her, will you shoot me as well?

It seems the main issue underlying your predicament is you suffer from extremely low self-awareness. An important aspect of self-awareness is being able to perceive and evaluate yourself accurately and objectively. The feedback you have received, now from multiple people in agreement about the facts, indicates that there is a huge discrepancy between how you see yourself and how others see you. This is almost always a sign of a deeper psychological issue.

The degree to which you lack self-awareness is troubling because it is akin to blindness. You live in your own little bubble of distorted reality and your self-concept is built upon false/problematic beliefs. In this aspect, I do feel for you, because I know it is painful to be blindsided and experience a break in the protective bubble you have carefully curated for yourself. I think the evidence speaks for itself, if you can manage to be objective about it:

You believe you do no wrong despite the fact that you have to rationalize away a pattern of patients literally fleeing from you.

You believe you are competent despite the fact that you have no understanding of the mental health of your patients and the major impact it has on the maintenance of their physical health.

You believe you are ethical despite the fact that you celebrate a cold and detached attitude that discourages patients from fully entrusting themselves to your "care".

You believe you "keep the personal to yourself" without fail despite the fact that your personality flaws are obvious to many people and produce negative social consequences.

You believe the nurse is being "subjective" despite the fact that, in a classic case of projection, you are the one who has repeatedly exhibited a refusal to acknowledge any perspective but your own.

You believe the nurse is only speaking from "feelings" despite the fact that she is relaying actual details of what has transpired among your patients.

You believe the nurse is unqualified to speak despite the fact that her job places her in an excellent position to objectively observe and understand your relationship with your patients.

You believe the nurse doesn't know anything despite the fact that the manner in which you reacted to being criticized only proved that every word of her critique is true - a testament to her people-reading skills.

You believe you have integrity despite the fact that you harbor biases and prejudices against people based on outdated notions of social superiority. The condescending manner in which you speak about your patients and especially about the nurse, who is your colleague and your equal as a fellow human being, should evoke moral revulsion in anyone with a proper moral conscience.

If you don't know your exact type, the first thing you ought to do is figure it out before contacting me, otherwise, you might have trouble understanding what I say about function development. You exhibit many of the common manifestations of unhealthy Te-Fi including:

insensitivity

egotism

small-mindedness

arrogance

pridefulness

condescension

pompousness

willful ignorance about the experiences of others (that deters anyone from speaking the truth and bursting one's bubble)

The remedy to Te-Fi misuse requires self-development. Restore proper balance between the functions through learning how to use them more appropriately. In your case, there should be a particular focus on learning and nurturing genuine humility, objectivity, empathy, and compassion. Consult previous posts about these development issues in TJs.

Ideally, medicine is supposed to be a noble helping profession, but reality tends to fall short of the ideal. Unfortunately, because of its imperfect reward system, the field sometimes attracts the wrong kinds of people, i.e., people who don't actually possess a strong motivation to be of help and service to others. I don't believe you are a terrible or evil person. I believe that you believe you have done your best to be a good doctor. However, you seem to be lacking the one fundamental quality that all members of a helping profession should possess: empathy. It is unclear as to why you lack empathy. This is something you need to reflect on and figure out for the sake of your own personal growth.

Reeducate yourself about what it means to be a good doctor. Your idea of what makes a good doctor is remarkably narrow and self-serving in only including your own perceived strengths yet conveniently excluding everything related to the personality weaknesses you don't want to acknowledge, especially with regard to Fi. You glorify the idea of core competency when it is really just the basic/minimal requirement of the profession. A truly "good" doctor must meet many more criteria than that.

Like many people with ego development issues, you conflate the two separate and distinct concepts of "smart" (i.e. knowledge) versus "good" (i.e. values), which means you don't really understand what it means to be moral or ethical. To be a moral person is, first and foremost, to CARE. Care arises from a willingness to feel and an openness to understanding how people feel. But you treat feelings as a burden and something to be avoided, even derided, because you really only care about benefiting yourself. In the absence of care, your own desires will always conflict with others', which renders you incapable of fully understanding what another person needs for health and well-being. Until you can remedy this, perhaps you are better suited to positions in the medical field that don't require you to interact with vulnerable people on a regular basis, i.e., positions that make good use of your intellectual skills but do not require good people skills as well.

#criticism #arrogance #small mindedness #willful ignorance #empathy #ethics #morality #ask

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donnerpartyofone · 1 year

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My Personal Birdemic

Yesterday was very much a part of the ongoing narrative. That might sound like a description of ANY day, but let's be real, a lot of days are just filler or digressive interludes that don't support the key themes or story arc. Unlike yesterday, when I returned to a skin clinic where I'd had many bad experiences, just because it was the closest place for me to go in an emergency and they could see me right away. A new asthma medication was both driving me insane and destroying my face, and the remediation measures I took in the skin department had nightmarish consequences, so off I went. Let me just say that you really don't want to be forced to choose between your lungs and your face and your mind. As soon as I was in front of a doctor I started sobbing violently. I just couldn't control myself anymore, which is a sensation I really hate. It probably didn't help that I was actually being listened to for once; kindness can trigger a breakdown as efficiently or moreso than adversity. The nurse seemed pretty alarmed and brought me a bottle of water, which made me want to disintegrate into my irreducible components forever, but I managed to get enough of my shit together to leave peaceably.

There were stupid hiccups at the pharmacy that kept me there way too long, and I realized that if I went home I would miss my televisit with my other doctor to explain what was going on, so I just went to the park to do it outside. There were lots of technical problems with that, and it took about half an hour to get it working. In the meantime I thought, Who the hell is making that terrible racket? There was a sparrow on the ground behind the park bench who I thought was taking a dust bath, but she was yelling her head off. I ignored her for a while, but eventually she was so persistent that I decided to inspect her. She had a snarl of hair, threads, and other fibrous materials wrapped tightly around one leg, which seemed to be the reason she was almost immobilized. I picked her up and unraveled it, but it seemed like it had been that way for a long time, and the leg was definitely not doing well. Fuck. Now I know the bird is injured and I am responsible for this information.

I remembered the water bottle the nurse gave me and poured some out for the bird, who drank. Then I emptied out my prescription bags, made a little nest to put her in, and set it on the bench next to me. I didn't realize that she was probably a fledgling because I thought she was pretty big, but then she started making some Feed Me gestures. I collected a couple of Cheerios from a baby sitting on the other end of the bench and tried to feed the bird, but I wasn't doing a good job. I put the last intact Cheerio down next to me and started calling 311, and animal control, and finally the Wild Bird Fund. While I was sitting there, a male sparrow came and started feeding her, inches from me. He gave her a big beakful of seeds and then he stuffed the Cheerio down her gullet for good measure. I was astounded. I mean birds in a city park are pretty bold since people feed them, but I just couldn't believe this scene was happening so close to me. It was heartbreaking.

Actually, I had witnessed the very last time that that sparrow would ever be fed by her parents. This thought has been haunting me since yesterday and might do forever.

Time passed and I still wasn't sure what was the best thing to do, and I started to panic. The thought of taking the bird away from her family, who were right there, was awful, but I was pretty sure her leg was too messed up to leave her there. There were lots of dogs passing through, and there are always rats. I decided we had to go to the Wild Bird Fund on 86th street, about 45 minutes away. While I was on the train I started to get replies to my tweets (ahem) @ the WBF, and texts from a volunteer who got my voicemail. Both of them seemed very concerned that I had overestimated the injury and interfered with normal fledgling behavior. I was completely terrified for the entire journey that we would get there only to find out that I had done something really bad.

When I was about 19 and home from college on break, my stepmother rescued a very young sparrow from our backyard. We took care of her for several weeks (a couple of months? idk). We did a bad job. A friend of my stepmother who supposedly rehabilitated wild birds told me to feed her all kinds of seeds and nuts, which I did, and one day I came home to find that the bird was coughing up blood. I looked up the number of an actual wildlife organization and described the situation to a volunteer who absolutely wanted to kill me. They explained that the bird was far too young for what I was feeding her and that I should switch to wet cat food, even though she probably wouldn't live. Actually, she did live, and we treated her like a pet for a while--although I had intense ERASERHEAD-like nightmares about her getting sick and turning inside out and suffering because of my poor husbandry. Looking back, I'm sure the bird didn't get enough attention, enough warmth, enough constant feeding, even though she did appear to get stronger and more confident. One day while I was out my stepmother took her to a vet, who naturally confiscated her and told my stepmother to get the fuck out, and that was it. A godsend for the bird. I've been feeling bad about it for like 20 years.

That experience is why I knew how to pick up a bird, which is not hard at all if you are gentle. The thing about a bird is that in order to maintain their equilibrium, they have to grasp whatever they're holding, unlike a cat or a dog or a baby that will just flop in your arms. Even a bird who does not want to be grabbed will perch on your fingers while it tries to assess what's happening. I remembered this recently when my husband and I were strolling to our favorite neighborhood, and we passed a construction site where a bird was desperately trying to get through the door in the wooden barriers. I picked that bird up and ushered it to a gap under one of the barriers, and it happily scooted to where it wanted to be, where we could hear other birds cheering it on. My husband and I had just started looking for a new apartment, and I said maybe this is a good omen, maybe if we got that bird back to its nest then we'll find our new nest. This is exactly what happened.

Because of the omen, and also because of the college bird rescue, I felt incapable of leaving the sparrow in the park. Her leg was dragging, the foot didn't seem to work well if at all, and I think her wounds were weeping. Still, for the entire train ride, I was deeply worried that we would get to the Wild Bird Fund only to find out I had made everything worse. I felt bad enough about just subjecting her to the subway. But, we got there, and a volunteer came out to meet us on the sidewalk. She didn't make it at all ambiguous, I was right to bring in the bird. As I filled out the intake form, the woman looked over my shoulder and said "What is that?!" (Always fun to hear when someone is looking over your shoulder) I turned around and saw two people with a starling in a neat black bird cage; it had an extremely long beak that almost reminded me of the proboscis of a moth. Then the actual vet came out and he also said "What is that?!" It seemed to be an old family pet that the people had inherited from another relative, and from the way they talked to and about it, I assume it was coming in for a checkup, not to be surrendered. I tried to look up long-beaked starlings and learned that their beaks can grow like that if they get a bad break, then the tissue can regenerate excessively. It made sense to me that if someone had rescued that starling with a broken beak a long time ago, then that's how it would look today.

Anyway. I was profoundly relieved that I didn't totally fuck up the sparrow's life for no reason, but my body was racked with tension from the last week of personal drama and housing drama and medical drama that had seemingly climaxed with the bird drama. I needed someone to stick a needle into me, in whatever spot would cause my stupid vagus nerve to release all the emotional toxins it was carrying. A friend commented that if something good happened the last time I helped a bird, maybe something good will happen this time. I like that idea, although I was also thinking about the religious idea that an opportunity to do good is a blessing in and of itself. I believe that, and I believe that it's a good idea to meditate on that, to orient your attitude on it: I got the chance to make a difference and that's pretty exciting in and of itself. But, you know. I wouldn't hate it if I found a new job pretty soon, either.

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panopticonatthedisco · 10 days

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A fun thing I'm working through as a trans person in inpatient care.

To start, I have like ALL of the privileges and resources at my disposal. Not only am I highly researched and informed on gender care and mental health, but my partner runs a gender affirming care clinic, and I have an effective relationship with my family doctor (who handles all my care) and I personally know many doctors and other practitioners handling gender affirming care in the region.

I gave the unit two days notice that I receive my estrogen injection on Tuesday mornings. At this time, we informed them that we would need to supply this because it can only be created in a sterile compounding facility and the hospital will not have it in stock. In Canada, the product that was approved for injectable estrogen was removed from the market by the supplier (distribution to Canada wasn't worth it, not due to health concerns) so there is no registered product/DIN and a sterile compounding facility makes it for you instead. We brought my current vial into the hospital to do the injection. The vial had my deadname, because my legal name change only occured a month or two ago just after my last refill. It was explained at dropoff why this difference occurred. Prior to dropoff, I asked if we needed to supply any supplies, as I draw with a 21G and inject with and 1.5" 25G. They said no, they have everything they need for the injection.

Tuesday morning, I get told they just need the pharmacist to look at it, and then we'll be good to go. Then the nurse asks me what I need estrogen for (🙃). A few hours go by. The pharmacist assistant comes out and asks me for all of my information regarding the prescription (dose, how long I've been using it, the pharmacy it's from), all of which is available on the label of the drugs.

A few hours go by. The pharmacist assistant comes back to me to let me know the hospital doesn't have this medication and if I had any at home that could be brought it (for the readers at home, my bottle of estrogen was already in the clinic before she talked to me the first time). Upon learning it's here, she says she'll get it and it should be ready soon.

A few hours go by. The nurse then comes out and says my injection is soon, and to wait in the room. I wait, fifteen minutes go by. My partner and sister arrive for a visit, so we go knock on the door and ask what's happening. The nurse says the pharmacist finished their day without giving clearance for me to use my estrogen and I will have to wait until tomorrow. My partner immediately takes charge and explains how this is not acceptable care, and that we can get whatever type of physician they need to contact the hospital to resolve the situation. The nurse says they'll try again, and we say please interrupt us if there are any changes.

Around when my partner is supposed to leave, the nurse comes back out and says okay we're good to go on the injection, get ready in your room for it. My partner and sister leave and I go to my room. Five minutes pass, the nurse comes back and says just a couple minutes longer. More time passes, the nurse comes back and says the name on the drugs is too different from my name so they can't give it to me. I show them a digital copy of my legal name change certificate, which then gets escalated to the charge nurse at the entrance, who then takes a picture of the document on my phone with their phone and says we'll send this to the pharmacy. Another pair of friends arrive for a visit around this time. We sit in the room next to the nurses station and I say please come get me if there is any additional information or contact I can get to help this process along.

The nurses change shift, and around 7:30pm (12 hours after when I regularly take my estrogen) the nurse says they are still working on it and are unsure if it's going to happen tonight. I make it clear that this is significantly impacting my mental health, and that if I don't receive my injection I will need the as-needed prescribed anxiety medication to sleep tonight.

My friends leave. At 8:30 the now new nurse says still no update but they will phone the pharmacy around nine. I got for a walk around the courtyard to try to release some of the anxious energy I am feeling about being told off and on all day about whether I'll be receiving my injection. They keep saying it will happen tomorrow but after waffling all day I simply can't trust that either. Just before nine, another nurse tells me I have to come inside because they lock the courtyard at nine, so I instead walk around the unit inside.

At 9:15, the nurse tells me the pharmacist has approved it but the drugs are at the pharmacy and need to come here, it'll be about 20 minutes and then we'll get me the injection. The nurse asks if I'd like the anxiety medication in addition, and I say very much yes. I keep walking around the unit. 9:35 hits with no new updates. At ten, I start to get ready for bed and get changed into pajamas and brush my teeth, then continue to walk around. Finally, shortly after ten, the nurse comes out with my shot. I ask the gauge of the needle, the nurse says 22, I say I normally inject with a 1.5" 25G do you have that? The nurse returns with a 23G and says they only have 25G on the children's ward.

I get settled to take my shot, and look at the needle and it's definitely no more than an inch long. I know my body, and I have large thighs. I know the inch and a half needle length is important to ensure I get my shot into my muscle tissue, but at this point Ive spent so much time and energy trying to advocate for this, that after asking and learning there is no longer needle here I take it with the smaller length and hope it's fine. After the shot, I ask if I bring my own needle tips if we can use those next week and they say yes (I offered to bring my whole kit previously and they said they have everything they need).

Overall, while I did get my shot at least on the day I should (which is an outcome I know so many trans patients don't receive), I am feeling so defeated. It took relentless questioning and proof providing, and I have all of the resources at my disposal to ensure it can happen. If my partner was not there the one time they told me I wouldn't get my shot, I don't think I would've received it that day. Nurses named they know nothing about HRT to me.

It makes me very scared for the future. Not receiving HRT while under supervised medical care is a legitimate nightmare I have and many trans people share. With the political climate, it's hard to see how this will get better in the short run. With my own medical issues, I also foresee a future where I will need some type of nursing home or supervised care for other reasons and now I am even more questioning if I'll receive the care I need to survive. Furthermore, how will any of my trans kin be treated?

I am in inpatient care because of how my desire to care for my community has left me like a squeezed out toothpaste tube, and now my care providers are showing the urgent need for toothpaste.

#trans #2slgbtqia+#mental health #text #queer community #inpatient #trans rights #death before detransition #trans hrt #hrt on demand #hrt estrogen #hrt

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inkyquince · 2 years

Text

DAY 04: Through The Eyes of Madness (Harper/ Alice Madness Returns)

A new perspective of the truth though the unorthodox.

content warning. wowza. gaslighting, hypnotism, implied past noncon and prostitution, once again its... Pc has been with a number of people but Harper is the focus here. Reader is called some unsavory names regarding their sanity. dubcon, somewhat?

“Now, now.” The doctor sighed as you tried to ignore him. Always probing, always questioning, never letting you sleep or rest.”How can I help you if you won’t let yourself be helped? Maybe you want to stay sick, is that it?”

“Ignore him.” A flat, bored voice murmured. “This isn’t so fantastical, is it, little loon?”

“Stupid caterpillar.”

“What was that?” Harper looked up from his clipboard.

You didn’t say anything, just shut your eyes and hugged your torso tighter.

“If only you listened to me, y’know.” The voice grew snide. “You’d be saving the world, ten minutes at a time.”

“Shut up.” You whispered. “Shut up, shut up, shut up.”

Harper shook his head, and set his clipboard aside.

“Your mental state keeps getting worse, doesn’t it? I only wish to help you, yknow. I’ll be giving you new prescription pills, which you will take before dinner. Incidentally,” Harper’s voice grew chilly. “You will be having your meal in your room.”

You ground your teeth together as the doctor stood, checking the buckles of the jacket you were kept in before giving his door two knocks, the sign to have you led away to your room. Harper watched you shake as the guard precariously double checked your restraints, keeping out of biting range from you, obviously used to dealing with you.

“Easy as a kitten with me, and rabid as a dog with others.” He mused quietly to himself as you were led away finally, before noting the time on his notes.

You were the only one who had daily sessions with the doctor. The nurses would chastise you, for spurning his generous help when the other patients barely got one session a week. Grimacing as they plugged your nose to make you swallow down the pills, chalky on your tongue, before allowing you the gasp of air your lungs burned for.

“Not the first time either. Swallower or spitter? Pleaser or Quitter?” A warm voice laughed and as the nurses wiped their hands clean of spit, you felt your world quiver.

You didn’t know if… You were in a little cottage, on the edge of the estate, or sitting with a man, with ears and a tail and nefarious eyes and a warm smile. Sitting on a tree stump as you spat out the drink he pressed into your hand.

“Spitter? Quite the viper you are.” The cat smiled, blond hair curling against his face.

“What was that?”

“Makes you shrink, I think. Or grow.” The cat leaned back on the log, so far that he should have fallen over, but he didn’t. “Maybe it’s something of myself and I think it would look best smeared across your face.”

You crinkled your nose. The Cheshire Cat laughs, with his easy grin and offers you another round of cards.

“One more round of cards. I wanna see if you win my matches or I win your underwear.”

“I don’t think the pills are doing me any good.” You whispered hoarsely to the white rabbit and he checked his watch and twitched his tail.

“They help you remember, y’know. In their own way. And what you remember, then you can make a decision.” Hare wrinkled his nose and tucked his watch back into his jacket. “Can’t stay mad forever, little one.”

“I’m not mad!” You stomped your foot in anger. Childish, you could admit, but if everyone else was going to be, so could you.

The white hare just gave you an inscrutable smile and beckoned you closer, red staining the white fur of his tail and ears.

“Then hurry and prove it. Mad for a minute, mad for a millenia, mad for too long, and madness makes you march into the madhouse with me.” He whispered, quoting the Hatter you ran away from, who threw his tea cups at you as his compatriots laughed and clapped.

“Shut up!” You shouted again and turned sharply on your heel, not willing to believe any whispers from the White Hare’s mouth.

“Remember or not, you’re marked as mad! Stay and lay in our loony love for another other, not leave and lie and cry!”

Harper smiled at you, chin resting on the palm of his hand, content in just watching you at times. He made another mark in his notes and leaned back.

“You know, you are quite fascinating. Bouncing between believing you are sane and then going off into your own world. Honestly, wouldn’t you be happier right here, where you can be kept an eye on, safe and secure. I can’t actually let someone like you be let out on those streets, can I?”

“Your only use is on those streets.” The caterpillar sighed, running the pipe over his bottom lip, lounging carelessly on his pile of slowly quivering bodies, faceless and strangely bare, missing genitals and nipples and holes. “You are not much use otherwise.”

He exhaled into your face, making you cough and splutter, waving the smoke cloud away.

“But I was told you could help!” You glared at him, resting upon his mound, with chestnut hair delicately framing his handsome face.

“I can help.” The caterpillar pulled on his pipe, lazy eyes trained on your flushed face. “But are you desperate enough to take my help?”

You looked around, your Wonderland falling to pieces as you stood, arguing with him. Blood dripped from the clouds, the blue of the sky had long since gone grey and no one was as you remembered. The Queen had already ruined you, so why not…

“Fine.”

The Caterpillar smiled and motioned for you to step forward. You glanced at the slowly moving pile of bodies, shivering and supporting his weight before taking a deep breath. One step and you were already sinking, sinking into the squirming bodies, entrapped in their heat as your clothes dissolved.

It hurt.

“Why do you focus on your first meeting with Briar?” Harper asked and you were ripped from the daydream.

“What?”

“Briar.” Harper leaned back in his chair, somehow closer than he was before you zoned out. “He gave you fair employment, did he not?”

“He let us be abused.” You whispered.

“You were the one asking for it.” Harper smiled, patronisingly. “Your poor body, craving such touches but you need to have someone to blame for the way you turned out, hm? So, who do you blame, when you’re not blaming your employer, or the brothel you walked into willingly for money?”

“I didn’t!”

“You don’t?”

“I didn’t!”

“Liar!” The Queen stood up, cold eyes glaring into yours. “You took it!”

“I didn’t take anything!”

The Queen glared as he held a ruined pile of notes, the insides dripping out all gooey and disgusting.

“Liar!” He snarled again, before walking down the stairs from his throne, orphans scattering as he made his way down.

“They were mine to begin with!” You curled your hands into fists, stomping your foot. “I don’t owe you any fruit tarts.”

The skittering frog servants shuddered in terror as the Queen of Hearts finally was face to face with you, towering and hands dripping red from the fruit tarts and the beatings he would administer to his attendees.

“So, upon this morning, you cannot hand me what I am owed?”

You only stared up in defiance, chin jutting out as Robin held the money you gave him, horror etched on his face as he realised the situation he had put you in, by asking for help.

“Fine.” Bailey sneered, tucking your money into his pocket. “I shall hand you over to the knave.”

“Your caretaker looks after all of you.” Harper shook his head, as if disappointed. “Bailey is the most generous provider in the entire town. He looked after you when no one else did.”

“He didn’t.” You couldn’t help it, feeling your chin wobbly and tears beginning to drip down your face. “He makes us pay back our debts, or he won’t let us finally leave. He makes us resort to sex work-”

“Nonsense.” Harper murmured, running a hand over your knee before pulling you into his lap, wiping away the tears. “If any of the other orphans were led into that work, it was because of you. This is your guilt speaking. You cannot blame Bailey.”

Harper continued to wipe at your face, big clumsy hands gentle against your bruises. The Knave towered above you, exhaling slowly.

“Please, I need to get back home-”

The Knave shushed you, his gentle look dropping into an annoyed one.

“Eden, please, let me return to town for a bit-”

“I said no.” The Knave scowled, tightening his grip around your throat. “The Queen gave you to me. You’re mine now.”

You just shivered, feeling something thick drip out of you and onto the floorboards as Eden continued to look you over, pulling his zipper back down.

“We are safe here. No Queen coming to hurt you.” The Knave rumbled, annoyed you weren’t pleased with the safe haven he provided. For the first time since falling back into Wonderland, you wondered if you found someone who was willingly more in denial than you had been. No one was safe down here, everyone was mad.

“There is no man in the woods.” Harper whispered, shaking his head as his fingers skimmed over your thighs.

“He’ll come to get me.” You sniffed, his touch making the hair at the back of your neck stand up. “He doesn’t like when I’m away.”

Harper gave a soft chuckle, adjusting so his clothed cock jutted against the back of your thigh.

“If you’re entertaining such thoughts about leaving, I’m going to have to keep you locked up in your room again.”

“You can’t keep me in here!” You hit the door repeatedly of the strange room the Hatter had thrown you in, giggling. “Let me out!”

The key jiggled in the lock and the door was flung open, the Mad Hatter grinning down at you, a rat scrabbling to keep its tiny claws in his weathered jacket.

“We just wanted to make the tea party perfect for you!”

Without warning, the Hatter grabbed your waist and flung you over his shoulder, carrying you down, out of the strange shoe house, to the messily arranged tea party table on the withered grass.

Some tea cups lay shattered on the table, others simply chipped, strangely goopy little cakes clumsily arranged in piles and on shattered plates clumsily pushed back together. The mad hatter deposited you into a chair missing a leg, giggling as you tilted alarmingly. His greasy ginger hair clung to his face, his manic wide eyes boring into yours as he ruthlessly fucked into you, your finger nails scrabbling at the sewer bricks before he pulled away and flung himself into his chair, tossing aside ruined tea cups to find one to pour your steaming tea into.

You could only now notice your two other tea party companions, a shivering twitchy hare, more mousey than the White one, with longer ears, bitten and with tufts of fur missing. Next to you, a snoozing dormouse rested on an ancient camera, drooling while a tuft of grass was stuck in the corner of his mouth. His ears twitched, pieces of metal embedded in the soft fur.

“Hare!” The hatter smacked the table, causing the entire thing to shake and nearly collapse, startling the mouse awake and the March Hare fell out of his chair, his rabbit-y feet sticking up in the air as he squealed.

His deep green eyes desperately stared into yours, black hair sticking to his damp forehead as he jerked his cock next to you in class, deaf to Mister Doren’s lecture as cum dribbled from his cockhead, and the March Hare stumbled to his feet before planting his tailed rump back into his seat.

“No staring at the guests, its unfathomably fucking rude!” The Hatter shouted and the Hare kicked the table, collapsing it completely on one hand, while grabbing at his ears, pretending to not be able to hear him.

The mouse blinked, sleepy, and looked at you, lost in all the indignant shouting and bickering, cool eyes surveying you over his camera, the hay sticking to your form, as Niki ordered you to spread your legs more for the camera, Remy watching close, eyes brimming with lust, and just picked up a piece of crumbly cake off the grass, cramming it into his mouth.

“Sleepy bastard. Bitty and bitey and boring.” Hatter finally stopped beating manners into the Hare, dangling him from his torn ears before dropping him onto the collapsed table, making the smaller boy yelp in pain and clutch his ass, where shards of shattered china had stabbed him.

The hatter fussed over the blearily blinking dormouse, who just tucked his chin on his folded up knees before giving up trying to get comfortable and grabbing your thighs, tugging them apart hastily, a flush covering the doctor’s neck.

“It seems you truly are too sick to be allowed back out.” Harper murmured, pawing over the plain underwear the asylum gifted its patients, fingertips already trying to press into your hole. “You need the proper therapy to make you comfortable, then we can work on reversing these strange lies you cling to, to negate your own agency in your poor choices.”

You finally stopped falling into the strange daze you slipped into every few seconds from the pills, dread rushing to your stomach.

“N-No, stop!”

Harper froze up momentarily before sighing and pinning you down to the cold floor, wrestling pills out of his pocket to force down your throat, thin fingers pinching your nose as his other hand curled into your mouth.

“Normally,” The doctor panted, fingers shoving the pills to the back of your throat before pulling them out and clamping your mouth shut. “I’d be quite lovely to you. Let you take your time. But you, you tease, have made my patience run thin.”

You could feel the pills slowly going down, slow and heavy in your gullet, and tears began to spring to your eyes, only to be wiped away by a bloodied handkerchief, the White Rabbit cooing at you.

“Nasty fall there, little loony loon. What would your parents say about going down a rabbit hole, hm? Quite impossible.”

You let him dab the tears of pain away, his own floppy ears accidentally tickling your chin as he turned, tucking the handkerchief away.

“I think you ripped your clothes falling too.” The Rabbit blinked at your white garments before fiddling with the buttons.

“What are you-”

“Well, you can’t very well walk around in ruined clothes.”

“But I can’t very well walk around naked!”

The Rabbit smiled, smiled wide as you blinked slowly up at him. Harper continued to pull your asylum clothes off, bearing your flesh to the world as his breathing grew heavier.

“Stay in your little Wonderland a bit more, just for me. Stay in your head and you can stay here, pretty thing, and I can keep you close.”

“But my parents will be wondering where I am.” You let the Rabbit push you down, the withered, white grass gone, your knees hitting blood spattered brick.

“You don’t have any parents, little loon.” The White Rabbit smiled lovingly at you, now pulling the socks off your feet, thumbs running over your ankles. “But you would like someone to worry about you, no? Someone to worry and wonder about you, hm? Stay and see how many rabbit holes you’d climb down with me.”

The Rabbit turned your bare form over on your stomach, pawing at you as you shivered, as if trying to keep you warm with his touch. His nose pressed against the back of your neck, whiskers tickling you as his hair danced across your skin, Harper rubbing his cheek against yours with his eyes closed. Your knees already felt sore from being on the cool tile for this long, his fingers running across your bare skin greedily.

“I’ll treat you so nicely, wouldn’t you like that? Stay with Doctor Harper, the only one to ever care for you, hm?”

You were too dazed to answer, just melt into his probing touches, your hips lifted to meet his thrusts, bare skin slapping wetly against yours. You could only whine and whimper as The White Rabbit used his strong legs to hump into your weak form, whispering little ideas to you.

“Easy as a kitten with me,” He panted lowly, only to chuckle darkly in your ear as you arched your hair, his throbbing cock hitting a sensitive spot deep inside of you. “Rabid as a dog with others… And as horny as a rabbit when madder than a hare!”

You slowly dragged your watery eyes up, only to come face to face with a looking glass, propped up so you could watch your first link to Wonderland ruin you in the reflection, his bunny cock leaking as he pulled out to drop to his knees, nuzzling his face closer to your intimate area, licking along your hole.

His rough tongue pressed into you slowly, Harper tasting his own cum deep inside of you, fisting his cock back to full hardness, quite dizzy himself.

“This is all you need,” He murmured hoarsely, in between hot licks. “You can make it through the day, when your favourite doctor gives you some love, hm?”

“Y-Yes.” You murmured, head swimming and the room spinning, the little pills doing their job.

“What was that, my dear?”

“Y-Yes!” You whimpered, watching The White Rabbit stand to his full height, white liquid running down his lips, hard cock jutting against his stomach. His fuzzy ears flick happily as he lies back over your back, warm chest against your bare skin.

“Stay down here with me.” The White Rabbit whispered, cockhead clumsily dragging over your bare thighs, trailing precum. “Not all who are mad, have to be lonely, and I’ve been waiting too long for you.”

You met his eyes in the reflection of the looking glass and realised that you had been wrong.

Little Loony you weren’t the first one down here, and you won’t be the last. A strange blond haired boy also fell down here, but he burned his patient clothes and donned a doctor’s jacket, and began playing with brains and emotions and tugging at strings and unravelling people and now he lay on top of you, naked, and waiting for his companion to stay with him in Wonderland.

Madness could be shared, maybe.

That’s the thought that had Harper smiling at your still form, snoozing at his patient couch with cum dripping out of your holes and streaked across your face. He sat, still naked from your shared love making, and finished up his notes on you, to send off in the morning.

You sighed in your sleep, eyelids flickering with your fantastical dreams and Harper smiled warmly, even as his cock began to gain interest again.

So, to start the rest of his life, with his weird, fantastical, mad companion, he added his signature to his late sentence on your file.

Doctor Harper recommends not to release this patient back into the public for their own safety. Indefinitely.

MAIN EVENT POST

#UP TO DATE #I WRITE EDEN LATER TODAY AND IM UP TO DATE #WOO #inky halloween event #harper the doctor #dol #nsft #quincewrites #degrees of lewdity #SO #IM GONNA SLEEP #AWAKE #WRITE EDEN #AND THEN INKY IS UP TO DATE!!#also tea and quiet got to watch me go stupid with my favourite trippy writing techniques #shout out to them

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jlilycorbie · 11 months

Text

Didn't See Any of This Coming

Late at night on Thursday, October 19, I drove myself to the emergency room. I fully expected to be treated and released, and after I saw triage just barely after midnight, it looked like exactly what would happen.

Instead, my entire life changed.

I went in for an abscess in an embarrassing location, which shouldn't have stopped me from seeking treatment earlier, but absolutely did. I figured they'd open and drain it, put me on some IV antibiotics, then send me on my way with a prescription for oral antibiotics. And for a while, that looked like exactly what would happen.

At least, until someone came into the room to ask me, "Are you diabetic?"

"Not as far as I know," I said.

"Did you know your blood sugar is 330?"

I've known for a long time things weren't great with my health, but I didn't see that one coming. Honestly, I was hoping whatever was wrong would kill me, preferably painlessly and in my sleep, within the next five to ten years.

That was already my first trip to the ER as an adult. What followed were a lot more firsts.

First IV.

First person who has seen my butt as an adult (a number that unfortunately kept climbing).

First CT scan.

First minor surgery (lidocaine is weak, I felt almost all of it).

First admission to a hospital.

First time taking insulin.

First major surgery under general anesthesia.

First time receiving fentanyl (or any opioid). After all the hype on the news, I thought that should be good, and instead it did absolutely nothing. Found out afterward that my dad and grandfather both got morphine a few times after surgery or in the ER for injuries and it did nothing for either of them. Just my luck to come up with chronic pain and a resistance to opioids.

I've suspected for a while that I have an autoimmune disorder, though I don't know which one. And a collagen disorder, probably EDS, but not sure which one. I've heard all the nightmare stories about fighting for diagnosis, so it was a little unsettling to mention autoimmune disorders and have every single medical professional say, "Yeah, that sounds right." Or to do my stupid human tricks (bending fingers and moving my trachea only, I never got far) and have people immediately go, "Yup, that's a collagen disorder."

Also, surprise! I have a heart murmur.

Shout out to my liver and kidneys, apparently the only organs in my body quietly doing their jobs without any drama.

The following days were frustrating. Everyone was eager to explain what diabetes is to me, but not what I needed to do. People kept mentioning that I had a sliding scale for my insulin, but no one would tell me what that meant. A diabetes educator would be coming to my room to explain it to me, so they didn't need to tell me anything.

After surgery, I never saw the surgeon again. No followup of any kind. Also absolutely no pain management. Before surgery, someone would occasionally offer me Tylenol. Afterward, I didn't even get that. It's apparently acceptable to leave a patient in so much pain she doesn't sleep for more than 36 hours, and after the 24 hour mark, you can offer melatonin.

Honestly, I don't think Tylenol would have helped, but a few throat lozenges would have made a huge difference in my world.

No one ever really explained or showed me how to care for the open wound left after surgery. The wound is located somewhere that is very difficult for me to see or reach, especially both at once. One person told me, "Just take a corner of gauze and poke, poke, poke it into the hole, but not too far, because you don't want to make the wound worse." When a nurse pointed out the difficulty of seeing the location, wound care sent a hand mirror smaller than my palm.

The doctor gave discharge orders, but the nurse at the time didn't want to let me go because the diabetes educator still hadn't come. I didn't know exactly when to take my blood sugar or insulin or how much to take. Because no one would tell me. So the nurse talked me into staying an extra night.

The doctor and several nurses also said someone with the hospital's social services would come talk to me about handling the bill and about getting a primary care physician because after 12 years without one, I can't keep not going to a doctor.

Neither the diabetes educator nor anyone from social services ever came to my room. I finally got a frustrated nurse to explain the sliding scale for insulin to me and when I should take my blood sugar and when I should take insulin. The next nurse diligently avoided me at all times until she announced I was getting discharged, better get ready. I stayed an extra night for literally no reason, for help that never came.

A pharmacist called me to tell me the doctor had ordered a glucometer and some other supplies for me, but my insurance had a really high copay on them, and she wanted me to know that I could buy them way cheaper on my own if I'd like to do that. When she found out that no one had explained most things to me, she was outraged. She spent a long time on the phone with me, explaining everything that she could. Bless that woman. I've told everyone who would listen her name and that she was so helpful when I was desperate and alone.

I got discharged just like that. I didn't get any written aftercare instructions from my surgery. I still don't know if I'm caring appropriately for my wound. I have a followup scheduled for three weeks after my discharge. I have since reached out, and people will apologize, but no one will give me the information I need.

I left the hospital terrified and confused. I'm used to figuring things out on my own, but the repeated promises of help that never came almost broke me completely.

I got two different types of insulin in reusable pens. No one had shown me that type of pen or how to use them. I had to figure it out by myself after I was home.

After I got home, someone from social services did call me. I had an appointment for the next day with a diabetes educator...who heard about me for the very first time after I was discharged, when social services called him and he immediately arranged an appointment for me.

Also, no one ever told social services they needed to talk to me about anything. They arranged an appointment with a primary care physician. It was written in my discharge paperwork, but no one told me.

The diabetes educator was actually pretty helpful. Turns out I'd gotten about half the information I needed about when and how to take my insulin. Since he gave me a different sliding scale and more instructions, I've actually kept my blood sugar consistently under 150, and mostly between 110 and 135.

I did tell him that the last time I saw a doctor, he dismissed all of my concerns to pressure me to join his high intensity weight loss program. At the time, I weighed around 300 lbs. I figured before I could get real help, I needed to wait until I was old enough, thin enough, or sick enough for people to take me seriously, and in the 12 years since then, I've done my best to take care of myself. When I arrived in the ER, I weighed 208 lbs. I was the sickest and most miserable I've ever been.

He told me he expects me to lose at least 20 lbs by the next time I see him.

#medical #medical horror #frustrating #cw weight loss talk #I would say I'm doing ok but I'm still frustrated and scared

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aao1024 · 2 years

Text

Darlin’

Chapter 4

Masterlist

Lee couldn’t have been more uncomfortable during his drive back home. He and the deputy made conversation on the way back. The deputy could not seem to drop the subject of Lee’s nurse. In his defense, no regular nurse comes in on her day off to see a patient and give them their number in case they need anything. He was excited to arrive home, but mostly so he could call Y/n. Lee was surprised that he had received her number, especially without having to ask for it. He didn’t think he would need any help, though it gave him a good excuse to call her.

As they arrived in Lee’s driveway, he had become exhausted from the drive and constant repositioning in the car. Matt took his belongings into the house and returned to the car to follow Lee into the house. Lee would have loved nothing more than to go to his own bed, but walking up the stairs was not an option yet. He set up camp at his recliner. He had a small stand next to the recliner, and there Matt had set the TV remote, newspapers, candy, a few pens, the phone, and a few files from the station to prevent him from going stir-crazy. All the officers' wives had banned together and made small meals for Lee so he wouldn’t have to worry about cooking. Matt bid his goodbye to return to work and reiterated that if he needed anything to call. Lee thanked him and wished him a good day.

He knew the first thing he was going to do even before he got home. Before he could reach for the phone, his pain started to increase. As he looked at his watch, he realized he needed to take his meds again. Lee kept the prescription in his pocket so he wouldn’t forget it. But he didn’t have any water nearby and knew he couldn’t take them without any. He was able to stand up and started making his way to the kitchen. The texture of the carpet in the living room was drastically different from the hardwood floors in the kitchen, especially on crutches. He made two full hops into the kitchen before he got ahead of himself and slipped. He knew it would hurt, but the impact took his breath away and brought tears to his eyes. Lee sat himself up, but he knew there was no way he could get up by himself. He sat there for at least ten minutes until he could muster up the strength to drag himself back to his recliner. He propped his back against the foot of the chair and reached for the phone. He was not going to call Matt. He felt too embarrassed to call him for help. He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out the small slip of paper he received earlier in the day. He was going to call her anyway, so he called Y/n.

He dialed her number and tried to prepare himself. It had rung three times before anyone had picked up.

“Hello”, A bubbly female voice said.

“Hi, is this Y/n?”

“Yes, it is. May I ask who I’m speaking to?”

“It’s Lee; I wanted to let you know that I got home.”

“That’s great Lee. How are you feeling so far?”

“Well that’s the thing Darlin’, I am currently on the floor right now, and I guess I need some help. I hate to pester you like this, but I don’t want any of the boys from the station to see me like this. If you can't, that's okay. I can figure something out. I don’t want to waste your-”

“Lee, what’s your address? I will be over as soon as I can.”

Lee gave her his address and thanked her for her kindness. He was quite nervous for Y/n to come to his house. To keep himself distracted he ate some of his candy and read through a newspaper. And in what felt like no time at all Lee heard a car pull into the driveway and the slam of a car door. Y/n had rushed her way into his house to find Lee sitting against his chair. She immediately crouched down next to him.

“Lee, are you okay?”

“Besides being in more pain than one can imagine, from this level I have realized that I need to clean more often.” He tried to joke in order to downplay the situation.

“You have been home for three hours and already causing trouble,” she chuckled. “How did you even get on the floor?’’

“Well, I was heading to the kitchen for some water when I fell on the floor in there and drugged myself in here to get to my phone, and my candy. Want one?” He offers her a small piece of candy.

Y/n shook her head and gave him a small smile. “Let’s get you off the ground.”

Y/n was much stronger than she appeared. She gave Lee a crutch to help push himself up as she put her arms underneath his in order to grip him and pull him up. Once she got him into the chair, she reclined it to lift his leg and got him a pillow to make it more comfortable.

“What can I get you?”

“I need water to take my meds, and I should probably eat too.”

She entered his kitchen and looked through his cupboards to find a cup. She gave him the water and watched him take his medication. She could only imagine how much pain he was in after his fall. He told her that there should be some food in the fridge if she wanted to throw something in the oven. Y/n threw in some mystery casserole and went back into the living room to talk with Lee.

“Lee, you need to be more careful. I don’t think it is safe for you to be alone at this point.”

“I will be more careful Darlin’, and I don’t have anyone to stay with me and help. No one should have to help me anyways.”

“Lee, stop it. If you don’t have anyone else to be here, then I will stay.”

“No, Darlin’ you can’t do that. You have to work.”

“I have plenty of vacation days to use, and you need the help and helping is what I do. End of discussion Lee. I am helping you, and you can’t stop me.” Y/n stood in front of him with her hands on her hips knowing that he was not going to fight with her about it. “If I don’t stay I will just be worried sick about you. I always keep extra clothes in my car just in case, and I’m sure there is a store I can visit if I need anything, right?”

“Yes, Darlin’.” Lee nodded his head in awe. He never felt so important to someone before. Why did she want to help him so badly? Lee didn’t know why, and he wasn’t too bothered to find out. He felt bad about taking up her time but was extremely thankful to have time to spend with her. Lee was pulled out of his thoughts when Y/n brought him a plate of some kind of casserole. Neither were too sure as to what it exactly was, but it tasted good, and that’s all that mattered to Lee.

After they ate Y/n cleaned what little dishes there were and joined Lee in the living room to watch tv. She didn’t know how long it had been, but she started hearing small snores from Lee. She grabbed a blanket off the back of the couch and draped it over him. Before she got settled in she retrieved a few items from her car, and changed into an old shirt and pajama pants. Y/n left a glass of water beside Lee in case he needed it throughout the night.

Y/n began to look around for more blankets but didn’t find any in plain sight as she did the first one. She noticed a door that was close to the front door and opened it hoping to find a closet with some blankets. She indeed found a few blankets, but she also found one of Lee’s sweatshirts. She hoped he didn’t mind and she threw it over her head to keep herself warm. To her surprise, it fit her well and smelled of his cologne. She noticed this smell when she first met him and couldn’t get enough of it. She covered herself up and got as comfortable as she could on the couch. She was excited to see where the next few days would take her.

Taglist: @eclecticpatrolroadlawyer

#lee bodecker x reader #lee bodecker x plus size reader #lee bodecker #plus size reader

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