#CW: illness

[promptful]

50 Reasons to Share a Bed

I am SO SOFT for this. Call me basic, but it's my favorite trope. I love it so much. I will take any excuse to write it. DO NOT ADD.

WARNINGS: Illness. Kidnapping mentions. Injuries. Death/dying mentions. Vague spice.

1) Because you’re sick. 

2) Because there’s only one bed, and it feels wrong to let you sleep on the floor. 

3) Because I have the thicker blanket out of the two of us. 

4) Because you won’t stop clinging to me on the couch. 

5) Because you have a broken leg, and I don’t want the guilt of leaving you here all by yourself. 

6) Because your health is deteriorating, and I don’t want to miss your final breaths. 

7) Because you’re crying as if I’m about to disappear. 

8) Because this is what we’ve done since we were kids, regardless of the adult implications now.

9) Because it’s so cold that I can see my breath, and tangling together is the best way to warm up. 

10) Because your house was broken into. 

11) Because you fear the dark, or what’s in the dark. 

12) Because you’re scared to lose me. 

13) Because your room is flooded. 

14) Because I would rather you sleep here than with someone else. 

15) Because you can’t afford a hotel room. 

16) Because I prefer your heartbeat as my sound-soother. 

17) Because I prefer your phone as my night light. 

18) Because I prefer your weight to my weighted blanket. 

19) Because you were kidnapped, and I won’t let anyone else get to you again. 

20) Because I don’t trust anyone else to take care of you like I can. 

21) Because you feel most protected with me. 

22) Because what’s the difference between snuggling and hugging? (A lot.) 

23) Because you’re visiting and need a place to stay. 

24) Because we’re too caught up in the past to remember that we broke up. 

25) Because we drank too much last night. 

26) Because you fell asleep on my shoulder, and I carried you to bed. 

27) Because my bed is the most comfortable. 

28) Because you keep the nightmares away. 

29) Because we’ve just married and we’re taking things slowly. 

30) Because this is an arranged marriage. 

31) Because I have nowhere else to go.

32) Because we don’t trust each other, we have no option than to keep one another close. 

33) Because I’m dying, and I don’t want to leave any regrets. 

34) Because I’ve been kicked out, and you’re the only safe place to go. 

35) Because you’ve let me crash so many times before. 

36) Because I love the way you wrap around me. 

39) Because the little hums you make against my ear to send me to sleep also send warmth down my body. 

40) Because your fingertips over my muscles send me to sleep. 

41) Because your cat sleeps on my chest. (I’m not here for you… of course.) 

42) Because it’s between you and the outdoors. 

43) Because we’re making a mistake. 

44) Because your breakfast is my favorite thing. 

45) Because we’re best friends. 

46) Because this is the first time I’ve ever seen you cry. 

47) Because everyone else left you. 

48) Because I’ll always be the one to patch you up. 

49) Because there’s nowhere else I’d rather be. 

50) Because I love you.

#writing prompt #otp prompts #prompt list #story prompt #writing prompts #creative writing #fanfiction prompts #rp starters #writeblr #cw: illness #cw: injuries #cw: death #cw: kidnapping #p.

[steddieas-shegoes]

pitiful little guy

for @steddielovemonth prompt ‘taking care of them when they’re sick’

rated t | 514 words | cw: flu and all its glorious symptoms (vomiting, fever, aches, etc) | tags: established relationship, sick fic, hurt/comfort, Eddie is a baby when he’s sick

♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️

The cold washcloth against the back of his neck was refreshing, but it was only a temporary relief from the raging fever and sweat and nausea he’d been fighting for more than 24 hours now.

Eddie was maybe dying, a delayed reaction to the bat bites or the general funk of the Upside Down. He’d never been this sick. If he had, he’d blocked out the memory.

Steve’s hand was rubbing his back slowly, not saying anything because the last time he’d tried to comfort him, Eddie snapped at him. Eddie didn’t deserve any of his care.

“You wanna try some water again?” Steve asked.

Eddie shook his head.

“Baby, you’re gonna get dehydrated. It’ll just make you feel worse.”

Yeah, obviously. But he’d just thrown up the four sips of water he’d taken a few minutes before and he wasn’t too thrilled at the idea of it happening again.

“Maybe I’ll pass out and sleep through it,” Eddie finally said.

“Eds-“

“Don’t,” Eddie felt the saliva gathering in his mouth again. “Not again.”

But apparently his body still had something to expel.

When he was done, he felt lightheaded, a little dizzy, and the cool cloth on his neck was no longer refreshing.

“Bed?” He rasped.

“C’mon, love,” Steve wrapped an arm around his waist to help him up, managing most of his weight as they walked into the bedroom. “You can take more Tylenol now. But you have to try to drink some water with it.”

Eddie groaned.

“I know you don’t want to, but I’m not giving you a choice.”

Eddie pouted.

“That’s not gonna work on me and you know it.”

Eddie whined.

“That was pitiful.”

“I’m a pitiful little guy, what can I say?”

Steve snorted. “You can take the medicine and go back to sleep.”

And after the last 24 hours of being beyond miserable and making Steve deal with the worst of him, he figured he could suck it up and do one thing Steve asked of him. Maybe it would actually help this time.

Steve got a new cool cloth for his forehead as he settled in the bed after taking his medicine.

“You want me to put your hair up again?” Steve asked.

Eddie shook his head, but immediately regretted the head rush it brought.

“You want a massage?”

“Please don’t touch me,” Eddie sighed. “I want one, but everything hurts too much and I might throw up.”

“Mkay.” Steve sat on the edge of the bed, being careful not to touch him. “I love you, you pitiful guy.”

“Love you. Sorry I’m…like this,” Eddie’s eyes were closed, but he could tell Steve was smiling at him.

“It’s alright. Just know you’re doing all the laundry when you’re better.”

“Fair.”

It took two more days for Eddie to be able to eat more than a cracker, and another day after that to meet Steve at the door when he got home from work and wrap him up on his arms.

“Thanks for taking care of me,” he said against his neck.

“Always will, baby.”

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddielovemonth #love is taking care of them when they’re sick #established relationship #hurt/comfort #sickfic #cw: illness

[frudoo]

Like a Stone — Johnny “Soap” MacTavish

Y'ALL. I apologize in advance. Literally sobbed writing this one.

Warnings: Unspecified illness, reader death, smut, poorly written Scottish accent.

Here you go, @xoxunhinged!!

MDNI

Any day now. 

     That’s what the doctors said. Any day now and you would be gone. Dead and gone, a ghost where your body used to reside. To be so young, only just married and so full of potential, diagnosed with the deadliest of circumstances, a waste. And oh, your poor husband, who was so excited to finally have the love of his life to keep by his side forever. How distraught he was to have to stay by your bedside in this dull hospital and watch you slowly shrivel away, resembling more of a corpse than that of his beloved wife. 

     A dry cough that leaves your lips startles Johnny awake, immediately standing from his chair and hovering above your bed. 

     “Ye alreit, bon’?” He brushes a strand of brittle hair away from your face, smiling down at you softly. 

     Your glossy eyes crease with love, admiration, as you look up at him and nod, carefully scooting over to make room for his large body. He wordlessly obliges, settling under the thin sheet and blanket just because you held it up for him. He presses a soft kiss to your cold, chapped lips, nuzzling his nose against yours. It’s a habit that formed after your wedding day—you can still picture those sparkling blue eyes staring into yours, that bright smile nearly blinding you. The memory feels like it’s centuries away, now, although it had just been a little over a year ago. 

     “I talked to the nurses,” you hum softly, cuddling closer and running your fingertips along his bicep. 

     Johnny frowns almost imperceptibly, but you pick up on it anyway. You’ve learned more about each other since being admitted into this hospital than in the two years you two had dated. 

     “Aboot wha’?” 

     “Johnny…” you whisper, tangling your fingers into the overgrown mess of hair that his mohawk had become over time. “I know you’re going on assignment soon.”

     He doesn’t bother to hide his discontent this time, fingertips gently caressing the skin of your sunken-in cheek. You’re practically all skin and bones and it tears him apart. 

     “We dinnae have tae talk aboot tha’,” he mutters, his heart pounding in his chest. 

     “The nurses are giving me—us—an hour alone,” you explain gently, eyes scanning his face cautiously. “I… I want you to make love to me.” 

     Johnny’s breath catches in his throat, and his fingers stall on your face, resting there as he stares at you dumbfounded. Surely you can’t be serious. Not when you’re in this condition—so frail and weak and pitiful. 

     “Bon’, ah-”

     “Please,” you interrupt, eyes glazed over with hot tears that threaten to spill. “In case this…” 

     “In case it’s the last time,” he finishes for you, his cerulean eyes just as glossy as yours. 

     There’s a moment of pregnant silence in the air between the two of you. Johnny glances at your heart monitor as the beats steadily increase in pace, before returning his attention back to you and nodding slowly. God, he thought the worst pain in the world was the time he broke his leg in primary school, or getting shot in his shoulder on the field. But this is far worse—the longing in your dull eyes, the coolness of your fingertips raking over his abdomen beneath his shirt. The knowledge that this could very well be last time he ever sees you, feels you. 

     You’re the first to lean in, lips carefully brushing against his like it’s the first time all over again. The shyness and innocence of it all makes his heart flutter, and he quickly melts into the kiss, large hand cupping your cheek in his calloused palm. He hums softly into your mouth as your lips part, fingernails gently digging into the meaty flesh of his bicep. His hand moves to the side of your neck, then down your arm, eventually meeting your bare thigh. He grins when he feels goosebumps rise on your body, pulling away from the kiss with a soft gasp. 

     “Ye’re sure aboot this, hen?” He asks gently, voice just lower than a whisper, almost inaudible. 

     “Yes, Johnny. Please,” you nod quickly, tugging at the hem of his shirt and staring up at him with wide, eager eyes. 

     Johnny has to fight back tears when he sees your expression. He can’t remember the last time he saw you like this—after the diagnosis, you had been treated and admitted so many times that any intimacy other than cuddling or kissing were long forgotten. He missed this, the beautiful glint in your eyes that reminded him that he was the only one who could make you feel that way. The last one who ever would. 

     Johnny climbs on top of you but is careful not to put any weight or pressure on your limp body, his lips brushing against yours before lowering to your jawline. The giggle you let out makes his stomach jump, and he can’t help but smile against your clammy skin. His lips trail down your neck and to your collarbones, and with gentle fingers, he helps you out of the flimsy gown. He bites his lip at the sight of you, thinner and paler, but still nonetheless as gorgeous as the day he met you. Healthy or not, he would always be a fool for you. 

     He cups your breasts in his hands, thumbs gently flicking over your nipples. He smiles softly with content when he hears your little moan, leaning in to kiss you again. You wrap your shaking arms around his neck, fingernails gently scratching at the back of his head. His body is so warm against yours, full of life and hope like you used to have. It makes your head spin. 

     “Ye alreit?” Johnny feels you tense up and immediately pulls back, worried eyes scanning your face. 

     His eyebrows unfurrow when you nod your agreement, but his movements are still slow and calculated, like he’s afraid he’ll break you. You shake your head softly, grabbing his wrists and encouraging his hands to move lower. 

     “Touch me, Johnny. It’s okay,” you grin slightly, leaning up to press a kiss to his clenched jaw. 

     With trembling hands, his fingers descend down your stomach and rest right above your mound, hooded eyes looking up at you cautiously. Johnny spreads your legs carefully, placing your thighs over his shoulders and pressing soft kisses to the insides. He knows you won’t be as wet as you need to be—the medication you take gives you dry-mouth, and parches you in other inconvenient places. No matter to him. He lets saliva pool onto his tongue before gently parting your folds with his thumbs, letting the warm liquid drip onto you slowly. The gasp you let out makes him grin and squeeze the soft flesh of your thighs gently. 

     “Is this alreit, bon’? Ye want me tongue?” He questions, peppering kisses to your inner thighs, making sure his stubble doesn’t rub your delicate skin raw. 

     “Please, Johnny,” you whisper hoarsely, grabbing at his dark hair and tugging slightly, trying to push his face further between your thighs. 

     He huffs softly in amusement, making sure his tongue has another sheen of saliva on it before swiping a long stripe through your slit. He moans, dragging the tip of his tongue up to your pulsing clit and flicking it a few times. Your legs are already trembling, and he digs his fingers into your thighs to keep you grounded as he dips his tongue into your entrance, eyes shutting once he finally gets a taste of the unmistakable tang of your arousal. Your whimpers are music to his ears, and he takes his time licking and sucking at the sweetness he’s craved for months. In the back of his mind, he wonders if you’d missed this, too. He assumes as much by the way you’re already grinding your hips against him, salty tears streaming down your flushed face. 

     You whine when Johnny pulls away, and he’s quick to replace his mouth with the pad of his thumb on your clit. With his other hand, he sucks two fingers into his mouth, coating them in his spit and making sure they’re nice and wet before circling the tips around your entrance. He kisses your thigh before resting his cheek against it, oceanic eyes staring up at you in silent question. The need displayed by your quivering lip is all the consent he needs. He slowly slips his middle finger inside, breath hitching as your velvety walls contract around it. He pumps it in and out a couple of times before adding a second finger, wrapping his lips around your clit once more to distract from the stretch. Fuck, he forgot how tight you are, how your walls flutter like they’re trying to kiss the intruder. He flicks his tongue over your clit right as he curls his fingers, and by the way you tug at his hair, he knows he’s found the spot.

     “Doin’ so good fer me, bon’. Want ye tae cum on me fingers, aye?” He coos, circling your clit with a flat tongue while he stares up at you eagerly, an almost boyish glint in his eyes. 

     He curls his fingers against that squishy spot again, and that’s all it takes before you’re seeing stars. Your thighs clench violently, and your back pops as it arches, a soft ringing in your ears as your husband coaxes you through your orgasm. He groans in delight at the taste of you, savoring the gush of sticky cream that coats his fingers. Once your body relaxes, he presses a final kiss to your clit before pulling away. He pants, the heady taste of you on his tongue making him smile as he leans back up to kiss your lips. Dazed and lightheaded, you kiss him back the best you can, fingernails clawing at his back as you try to bring him closer. 

     “Want you, Johnny, please. Please,” you pant, chest still heaving as you recover from the bliss that you’ve been lacking for months. 

     Johnny hesitates, though, worriedly gazing over at the heart monitor. The beeping had become more rapid, and it concerned him. He rakes his fingers through your hair, nuzzling his nose against your cheek as he waits for your heart rate to return to normal. Once your body has calmed, he kisses your lips again.

     “Are ye sure, hen? Ah dinnae want to hurt ye if-”

     “Johnny. I need you,” you murmur, eyebrows furrowed as you peer up at him desperately. 

     Johnny nods, momentarily standing from the bed to remove his jeans and boxers. You gasp softly at the sight of him—you’d nearly forgotten how he looked completely bare, scars that you’d previously memorized like brand new to you, and you reach out to caress them with a feather-light touch. Johnny grins, grabbing your frail wrist and pressing a kiss to the inside before climbing onto the bed once again. He strokes himself a couple of times before helping you get into position, pressing the leaking, dusty-pink tip against your entrance, still slick with your spend.

     “It might hurt a bit,” he whispers, pressing his forehead against yours. “Tell me if ah’m hurtin’ ye, alreit?”

     You nod and reply with a soft okay, hooking your arms beneath his to rest your hands on his shoulders. Slowly, he pushes in, covering your mouth with his own to swallow your gasp. Tears prick your eyes as he continues to penetrate you, your slick clinging to the bulging veins that protrude from his shaft. He’s so much thicker than you remember, the intensity of his girth seating itself inside of you bordering on unbearable.

     “Ah ken it hurts, bon’. Ye’re takin’ me so well, so perfect fer me,” he murmurs, kissing away your tears and cupping your clammy face in his hands. 

     It takes a while for you to adjust, and it feels like losing your virginity all over again. You cling to him tightly as he mutters reassurances and praises into your ear, not moving until you give him explicit permission. He’d wait for eternity if that’s how long you needed. 

     “You can… you can move now. Please,” you whimper breathlessly, opening your eyes to meet his patient gaze, so full of love for you–his perfect girl.

     He waits for another moment before nodding, slowly pulling out until just the crown remains inside of you. With a deep breath, he pushes back in gently, like you’re fine china and he’s a bull threatening to break you. Your nails dig into his tan skin but his mind is focused on how good you feel, how much he wants to make you feel just as incredible as he does. His pace is slow and calculated, and he doesn’t dare break eye contact with those beautiful globes of joy that he fell in love with. Fuck, he’s lost in you, staring like he sees right into your soul, like you’re another part of him. 

     The longer he studies you, the slower he strokes, unwilling to let go of this perfect moment, the absolute euphoria he can’t find anywhere that you’re not. He sees heaven in the black of your pupils—the future he would never have with you. He always imagined having a family with you, filling up the cozy home he’d buy for you with precious little rugrats. God, he’d be so gentle, always caressing your pregnant belly and kissing your temple, dancing with you in the living room to teach his bairns how to treat a proper lady. He’d watch you grow old together, comfort you as the pair of you becomes empty-nesters, reliving the honeymoon days and reminding you just how much he loves you. 

     He always thought it’d be him to die first, killed in action or succumbing to the forces of nature in his old age. 

     He doesn’t even realize that he’s crying until he feels you flinch when a teardrop lands on your face. He’s quick to thumb it away, leaning down to capture your lips in a slow, tender kiss. It reminds him of your wedding night, how timid you were despite having been with him before, how stunning you looked with your parted lips and eyes clenched shut. He remembers it like it was yesterday, how the two of you fit flawlessly, like your bodies and souls were handcrafted just for one another. 

     “Are you okay?” You ask softly, pulling back to study his face and wiping away the tears that pool up in those sapphire eyes again. 

     “Ah’m alreit, bon’,” he whispers through a sad smile, nuzzling his nose against yours once again. “Ah jus’ love ye.” 

     “I love you, too, Johnny,” you hum, scratching the back of his neck gently, trying to soothe him.

     You know exactly what he’s thinking. You’ve spent days, weeks, months imagining how different things would be, had this illness never corrupted you. You’ve come to terms with it, but you know Johnny hasn’t. You’re not sure if he ever will with the way he’s looking at you. All you can do is kiss him again, moaning softly into his mouth when you feel yourself on the brink of ecstasy once more. 

     “I’m close,” you mewl, head falling back against the creased pillow beneath you. 

      Johnny nods frantically, grunting softly as he thrusts the slightest bit quicker, still worried that he’ll hurt you. But God, he’s so close, too. He needs to feel you clamp down on him just one last time, engrave it into his memory, tattoo it into his brain. 

     “Me too, sweet girl. Cum with me, aye? Let me feel ye.” 

     With that, the coil in your belly snaps, and you let out a squeal as you climax. He cups your gorgeous, flushed face between his rough hands, forcing you to meet his gaze as he finishes with you, simultaneous bliss lingering in the shared air between the two of you. Almost as quickly as they came, the highs dissipate, little tremors and jerks taking their place in the afterglow of euphoria. He leans down to kiss you yet again, quickened breaths mingling together. It feels like eternity before he pulls away, a shaky sigh escaping his agape mouth. When he meets your gaze again, he knows. He’s seen the emptiness, that blank, peaceful stare one too many times.

     “Ah love ye, bon’,” he whispers, smiling softly when he feels your head turn into the palm that still holds your face.

     “I love you, Johnny.” 

     He pulls out of you for the last time, pressing one more kiss to your quickly-cooling lips. You hum contentedly, and it’s all the closure he needs. He tries to block out the rapid beeping of your heart monitor as he gets dressed, tears streaming down his face as he glances at your still figure, watching as you fall into perfect, eternal rest. He covers your bare body with the sheet and kisses your hair, whispering a final goodbye just in time for the doctors to come in and call the time of death. 

     Time stands still.

#cw: illness #cw: death #cod mw2 #cod #johnny mactavish x reader #johnny mactavish #call of duty #soap mactavish #soap x reader #johnny soap mactavish #cod x reader #sorry for being depressing #Spotify

[littlescaryinternetguy]

A dramatic groan woke him up. He bolted upright at the volume of it, remembered the situation, relaxed a little. He slid out of his bed and pulled on a bathrobe, padded through the front room, and opened the front door onto a vista of sadness. There, in the early morning light, was the woman he loved, and who loved him, even though he was very, very small. So small that now his home easily fit onto her bedside table.

“Carol?” he called across the abyss between the bed and the bedside table.

“Oh fuck I feel like a cat who got run over,” said Carol, weakly. She stared straight up, blinking slowly. “I dunno if you should be here. I don’t wanna make you sick, Will.”

Will considered this. He shrugged mentally. “I’m not sure I can avoid it. If it’s coming for me, it’s coming. We’re in the same room and all.” She replied with a brief groan of acquiescence. He stepped onto the rickety but (so far) safe suspension bridge they had rigged up from the table to her bed.

When he made it across, he could feel the fever radiating from her, just from standing near her neck.

“You should probably call my sister. You’re gonna need some soup and lots of liquids.”

“Yeah…” She sighed and grunted and pushed herself up, called Tanya, who said she could be there in an hour or so. Carol hung up and flopped backwards, bouncing Will off his feet. “Oh fuck, sorry…” she whispered, and then clenched her eyes shut.

Will considered her. His partner, who had stayed with him even when he became smaller than a toy. Who was now largely immobile, breathing slowly and loudly. When her eyes were open she stared at the ceiling. She was the size of a demolished building lying on its side.

“I wish I could do something, hon,” he said. He put his palm on her neck. She flinched a little.

“That actually feels nice, little Mister Ice Hands.”

“Oh. Good.” He leaned his whole front against her, feeling her heartbeat thud dully against him. He felt her shiver pass through him.

“Ugh. Thanks.”

“I just wish I could do more.”

“You’re doing everything you can, hon. You are doing literally everything you can.”

“Yeah.”

“Not many people do literally everything they can.”

He leaned forward and kissed the warm soft wall of her neck.

“I’m supposed to be making you feel better,” he said.

“You are.”

He nodded, forgetting for a moment that she couldn’t see it. He thought for a moment. And then he started climbing the pillow by her neck.

“What are you doing?”

“Tell you… soon…” he replied, breathless with effort. Soon he came to a more gentle slope in the pillow as the weight of her head sunk in. Beneath limp strands of her hair was her ear, delicate and very sensitive. He waited to cool down some.

“It’s soon, Will. Spill it.”

“I’ll demonstrate.” He reached out and touched the back of her ear, near the top. She almost yelped, and jerked a little, enough to make him fall back. “If you stay still, I might be able to cool you off a bit. Every so often. Mr. Ice Hands, remember?”

“OK, I’ll try to stay still. Agh.” She clenched her eyes tight.

So he tucked his whole body between the top of her ear and her head. It was like climbing into a furnace for him, but he felt her shiver, then sigh.

“That’s actually really nice,” she said, weakly. He rolled out to cool himself down. “Come back!” she said, piteously.

“Let me cool off a second first,” he replied.

“Oh. OK.”

He did it again, and again she shivered.

“Look at us,” she said.

He looked at himself, and then the thicket of brown hair he was in, and the pink shell of her ear that disappeared into it. “Look at us,” he agreed. She breathed in sharply, pained, then let it out.

“I love you, hon,” she said. “Nobody has ever… gone so far for me.”

“Nobody has ever gone so far for me, either. I love you so much.” He pressed himself to her ear again, and was rewarded with another tremor. The phone rang and Carol turned her head with a jerk, catapulting him over her cheek, into the blast of her hot breath. She made a small noise of surprise, reached her hand up and caught him between thumb and finger. She gave him a kiss. Time was that such a tumble would have caused both of them to panic, but that time was a while back, and they knew the limits of what their bodies could and could not do to each other.

It was Tanya, saying she was running late. “It’s ok,” said Carol. “I’m feeling a little bit better. I’ve got a l’il bit here helping me feel better.”

#g/t #sfw g/t #g/t fluff #sfw giant/tiny #giant/tiny #sfw gt #cw: illness #my dreams are not so extravagent #if I could have this I'd be happy

[dreamdaddydutch]

Javier x reader crying during an argument??

Thanks for your request - as always it's appreciated. This ended up being longer than I'd planned.

As a side note - I reference that the reader was sick with a virus a few months previous, this isn't based on any particular virus/illness, so if you think symptoms don't really add up with anything - that's why. It's just for the stories sake.

Pairing: Javier x gn!reader Word Count: 1,782 Warnings: Intensity of argument and accusations. Some swearing. Descriptions of illness.

As you stormed through the camp, you knew all eyes would be on you and that most of the others would have heard the harsh words spoken between you and Javier. But you cared little for gossip, you cared little about what they thought, they didn’t know Javier like you did and they didn’t know you.

Fuck them, you thought, I don’t care.

But lies don’t last long, not even the ones you tell yourself. They either get buried and fester until they become something ugly, something you eventually believe but never for the best. Or within moments the truth seeps through and you’re unable to deny the truth any longer. Today was one of those days.

Javier had gone to rob a stagecoach with Sean and John, he’d asked you to stay behind. Pretty much commanded it. But you were bored of being left behind and longed for adventure, longed to do your bit. Hunting was more your thing, hunting and gathering berries, herbs, whatever you could forage. Occasionally you’d see some action when it came to robberies and the little missions Dutch sent the others on but hearing the excitement in the voices of those who’d come back frequently from such excursions, made you want to do it all the more.

Additionally, you missed Javier. The two of you would go fishing together and sometimes he’d come hunting with you, but you wanted to be gun slinging by his side as it felt like it was somewhat romantic to you. It’s not that Javier didn’t think you’d be good at it or that you’d be a liability, he knew you could handle yourself, it’s just you were better with a bow, better at hunting and tracking. Better with formulating plans and the theory behind the actions.

Besides, recently you hadn’t been well. You’d caught a nasty virus in Clemens Point that left you bed bound for several weeks and even now you were still feeling the effects. You suspected this was the real reason Javier had been so adamant about you not joining them on any jobs for the foreseeable future. But Javier didn’t own you and so on this day for this particular robbery you’d decided to surprise the other three and turn up to help.

Only it hadn’t gone to plan. If anything, it had hindered the others, who had returned empty handed. It

On the way back to camp Javier had remained silent, furiously riding Boaz behind you so that he didn’t let you out of his site, while the others rode in front. You felt like you were being punished, that the other 3 had no trust in you so were escorting you back. Any time you tried to speak to Javier he said nothing, his face angry and hurt, the only words he said the entire time was, “Not now.”

That was what hurt, the fact he wouldn’t even acknowledge your presence. Did he really think that little of you now?

Back at the camp it was little better, you hitched your horses and then John and Sean departed quickly, not wanting to get caught in the crossfire between the two of you.

You could handle the silence no longer, it hung in the air cloying, suffocating, unrelenting, “I’m sorry, okay, I’m sorry I don’t know what…” Javier held his hand up to silence you, “Don’t.”

“What do you want me to say?” You begged

“Nothing!” Javier shouted back, “Nothing, there is nothing to be said okay. It is done, it’s done,” he said, his voice calming a little.

“I just wanted to be…helpful.”

Javier shook his head in disbelief, “Well, look how that turned out huh? We came back empty handed, you nearly died… Sean could have been shot. You just don’t think do you?”

“Don’t think?” You snapped, “All I do is think, you’re away so often it’s not like I can talk to you about anything. I think about you, where you are and who you’re with, especially when you don’t come back at night. Is that why you don’t like me coming with you?”

The genuine look of shook on Javier’s face at your implied accusation made you regret your words immediately. Javier was the most faithful and loyal of the lot.

You hung your head in shame, “I’m sorry Javier, that was cruel. I know you’re not…I know you’d never.”

The damage was done, “I need some time on my own.”

You looked up with tears in your eyes, but Javier had already turned away and begun walking.

All the things you wanted to say, to tell him to fuck off, to tell him to grow up, to tell him how sorry you were and how much you loved them. You opened your mouth but nothing came out, the regret just swimming in your stomach causing nausea, bile climbing your throat.

So you’d stormed through the Shady Belle camp and into the house, straight to the room you and Javier shared, slamming the door behind you.

“Trouble in paradise?” You heard Micah shout as he started laughing, “Told me you should be with me and not that…”

“Shut the fuck up or I swear to god I will ram my fist down your fucking throat you!” You paused as you saw Abigail stare at you, Jack by his side. Oh…

You turned away from the window, slamming that closed too and pulled the curtains close.

For a few minutes you stood alone, agitated and unsure of what you were supposed to do now, what he expected of you. You pulled your arms round yourself into a tight hug and tried to fight back the tears, they came anyway whether you wanted them or not. Maybe Javier was right, you should have listened and not put the others in danger, yourself in danger. It was only now you realised how close you’d come to death.

The door flung open and Javier stormed in, his presence looming over you, a shadow cast across the wall.

“Don’t Javier, if you’re here to berate me, make me feel stupid, I already feel like shit.”

“Ay, ay ay,” Javier shook his head, “Don’t you get it? I’m not mad at you over the money, I couldn’t care less. They’ll be other stagecoaches. I’m mad because you nearly got yourself killed.”

You bit your lower lip, “It wasn’t that bad…” you whispered.

Javier put his head in his hands, “Wasn’t that bad huh? If…” he stopped, clearly pained as he thought about what had happened, “You know how close you were to getting a bullet through the head?”

You shook your head, actually…you weren’t sure. “If…if…that horse hadn’t of bucked when it did you would be dead do you hear me? You would be dead.”

Dead, the word pierced through the air.

“And I,” he patted his chest, “Would be all alone and forever I would carry that guilt, what could I have done to protect you.”

“I’m not your property or some creature you can just keep Javier, it’s my life.”

He gave a mirthless laugh, clearly exhausted from the day and tired of trying to make you understand, but right now this seemed impossible.

“Mi amor, that virus that struck you down, don’t you remember?”

“Of course, I remember, how could I forget, throwing up onto the floor and having to watch the girls clean it up. Pissing myself, coughing up blood, snotty nose. What an attractive beast I must have been.” Javier let out a small chuckle, “You were still beautiful.”

He took a step closer to you, “But that isn’t what I meant. What I meant was what the doctor said afterwards, when you’d mostly recovered?”

He looked at you as he reached for your shoulder, you shook your head. You didn’t remember what he said.

“That for some time, possibly six months the illness would still have an impact. You may feel dizzy very quickly, struggle to remember things, to focus…struggle with things like taking aim, your reflexes.”

Your heart sunk as the penny dropped, shit, the doctor had said that hadn’t he? Javier wasn’t trying to keep you back at camp because he thought you were incapable or better doing camp jobs, it wasn’t that he didn’t trust you or think you’d fuck things up. He was doing it because he knew it wasn’t safe for you to be participating in anything like that right now, he knew the very real danger and how easy it would be for you to get lost, confused or fail to react quickly when reacting quickly would be the only thing to stand between life and death.

You struggled to meet his gaze for a few moments, as his words sunk in, feeling foolish and ashamed you finally faced him. A sob erupted from your lips, “Oh Javier, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…I didn’t remember. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I should have listened to you.”

Stepping forwards you sobbed into his chest making it damp with your tears as Javier held you, the palm of his hand pressed against the small of your back.

“It’s okay, shhhh mi amor. It’s done now, it’s done and you’re still here as is Sean,” Javier attempted to reassure you, though you barely heard his words through the sound of your tears and heart pounding in your chest.

He tilted your chin up gently, his thumb gently brushing over your lower lip, “I know you didn’t mean what you said. I know you didn’t mean for that to happen.”

His dark brown eyes studied you, saw how you reacted to his words, whether you trusted in him, whether you believed in him. You did, no matter how hard it was, you believed because you had to.

“I love you, there is no one else for me. You know I respect you,” Javier begun but you reached up and placed a finger to his lips, “I know, it’s me who should be apologising and not you.”

Javier shook his head, “No, we both said things we didn’t mean, I over-reacted,” he paused, “A little anyway,” his lip curled into a small smile, his hand reached for your face, fingers tracing back across your scalp.

“Just promise me you’ll listen going forward if I say no there’s a reason, okay? Please trust me.”

“I will and I do, I do trust you.” Javier placed a kiss to your lips and held you against him for a few seconds.

As he held you he made the best suggestion you’d heard in a while, “Let’s stay in here for a bit before we go out to the others huh?”

#Javier Escuella #javier escuella x reader #reader insert #requests #writing #gn! reader #arguments #swearing #cw: illness

[conkers-thecosy]

Current WIP: "Backs to the Wall" Music: On The Nature of Daylight by Max Richter Beverage: Homemade lemon and ginger tea, with honey Mood: Lethargic

So, it's been a mixed bag this week! Knocked out two new chapters, both of which have had a truly wonderful response, and I'm sublimely happy with that! Also, had my most successful week of the year for my word count -not including the April Camp NaNo- and I'm only around 5k away from my year-long goal, so that's very exciting!

Less positive news is that I got so much writing done this week because I've been poorly with Covid, which has been vastly unpleasant, I won't lie. Also, my great aunt died on Friday which is quite sad - I've had a lot of family bereavements this year, and I don't have a lot of family to speak of as it is. So. Bit sad just now, and I worry it might have an effect on my writing.

Anyway! I'm about halfway through chapter eight, so I'm hoping to post that Thursday or Friday. Not going to stick to regular upload days after the poll this week, so thank you everyone for your feedback! I'm not sure what will happen with updates over the last week of December - not sure how many folks will be reading fanfiction then?? But I will keep you updated! 💛

As always, thank you to everyone who has been cheering me on, I'm so pleased you enjoyed both chapters this week!

#writing update #conkers corner #conkers-theficwriter #cw: death #cw: covid #cw: illness #backs to the wall #bttw

[oonaluna-art]

A Patreon commission of a Jedi infected by the Rakghoul Plague ~ Spooky Stuff for the Spooky Season.

—

[My Ko-Fi] [Patreon]

#star wars #jedi #rakghoul #rakghoul plague #cw: illness #cw: zombie

[aria-benedetto]

The Quiet Princess

So... I kind of accidentally wrote a short story? No idea how that happened.

Content warnings: Sexism, death, illness, war (mention) and I think that's about it?

1780 words

The story goes something like this:

Once upon a time, there was a princess. She was an only child, born after a great many attempts and struggle and waiting. Her birth greatly saddened the king, for his heir had to be a son. Tradition demanded it.

And so the young princess was raised to be a bride. One day, her husband would be king, but for now, she had to learn.

And there was much to learn for the young princess.

The princess was an energetic child. She loved to run, to climb and to play. But a good bride had to be quiet and still and so the princess had to learn to sit and be still.

The princess was an emotional child. She loved to laugh and she cried and she grew angry. But a good bride never inconvenienced others with her emotions and so the princess had to learn how to smile and not feel.

The princess was a talkative child. She loved to speak and to joke and to argue. But a good bride never raised her voice and never spoke without invitation and so the princess had to learn how to be quiet and never to speak unless spoken to.

And so the princess learned and she grew. She grew to be still and elegant. She grew to smile and always show the proper emotion. She grew to be quiet and never spoke unless spoken to.

She grew to be a bride.

And when the time came for a groom to be chosen, she wasn't perfect, but she was close. When the men who would be king came to her father, she sat and she smiled and she did not speak unless spoken to.

She laughed at their jokes and didn't make her own. She admired their strength and bravery and wit, just like a bride should.

And soon, her father made his choice.

Her groom was to be a prince from a neighbouring land, a youngest son, never to inherit the throne of his own country. A long-term ally, who could be trusted to keep agreements and know how to rule and how to be.

And the princess sat and she smiled and she did not speak unless spoken to.

A royal wedding could never be truly soon, for there were envoys to send and treaties to set up and preparations to be made, but it would take place soon enough. The prince stayed in his new home, of course, for there was much for him to learn.

He needed to learn about the lands that would one day be his. He needed to learn about the lords who would one day answer to him. He needed to learn about the castle that would soon be his home.

He did not need to learn about the woman who would soon be his wife.

And the princess sat and she smiled and she did not speak unless spoken to.

In the castle, ambassadors and envoys and nobility, both foreign and not arrived. The wedding was to be a joyful occasion for all.

There were decorations and flags and banners all around. The wedding was to be a beautiful occasion to be remembered in history.

The cooks and servants and tailors worked day in day out. The wedding was to be flawless, lest it ruin the celebration.

The princess was groomed and dressed and decorated. Dozens of tailors had created her gown, representing the devotion of the people. Jewellery adorned her neck and arms and head, representing the wealth of the country. Her face was painted beautifully, representing wonders to be found in the nation.

She was not perfect, but it was close.

Her handmaidens led her to the hall and the ceremony went beautifully. The ambassadors and envoys and nobility celebrated joyfully. The castle was beautiful, a wonderful background fit for the history books. The cooks had cooked flawless meals and the tailors had tailored flawless gowns and robes and suits and the servants served flawlessly. Nothing marred the celebration.

And at night, the newly wedded bride and groom were to render their flawless marriage into a perfect union.

But even a flawless celebration can only last so long and soon all the ambassadors and envoys and nobles went home. The decorations and flags and banners were taken down and stored for the next flawless ceremony.

The cooks kept cooking and the tailors kept tailoring and the servants kept serving, for what else was there to do? And while only a celebration had to be flawless, there never should be flaws when serving a king.

There was still much to learn for the prince. After all, he would one day be king. And so there was never much time for his bride but that had never been the point of the marriage anyway.

And while he learned, the princess should see to her own duties. She was to be quiet and demure and do what a bride should.

And so she sat and she smiled and she did not speak unless spoken to.

And the king was happy, for he had gained a son and the crown had gained an heir and the country would have a king. But the prince still had to learn and the kind would show him how to rule.

And so it was determined that there would be a grand sweep throughout the lands, for there must be no discontent and all the subjects must be loyal and devoted.

And the people were afraid, for an investigation always found discontent and doubts and treason, for that was its purpose.

And the princess sat and she smiled and she did not speak unless spoken to.

Before the hunt for malcontents and doubters and traitors could start, the king fell gravely ill. It was a strange illness that baffled the physicians and confused the healers and frightened the priests. For it had came upon him suddenly and without warning and no matter what they did, he only ever got worse.

His life was soon despaired of and the hunt was soon forgotten, for why hunt while the king is dying? There were other things to do, duties to assign and preparations to be made and positions to fight over. The prince did his duties as a prince should, for though he had been the youngest, he had grown up as the son of a king, so he knew how to rule.

And the princess sat dutifully at her father's bedside, as a daughter should. And she did not speak, for she was not spoken to. But neither did she smile, for no daughter should smile at her father’s deathbed.

And when the king died, the princess sat and she did not smile and she did not speak unless spoken to.

And when the king was buried, the princess stood at the grave and she did not smile and she did not speak unless spoken to.

And when the new king was crowned, the new queen stood at his side and she smiled and she spoke the words supposed to be spoken by a queen when her husband is crowned.

The new king was young and ambitious and he knew what he wanted and how to get it. Soon, the soldiers were polishing their weapons and the generals were planning their tactics and the king was drafting a declaration of war.

And there was great unrest among the people of the kingdom, for the last war had been costly and many still mourned the dead.

But when a king wants war, war he shall have, for what are the common people to do?

And the queen sat and she smiled and she listened.

And when the young king fell gravely ill as the old king had before him, there was great unrest, but no more than there had been before.

For an ill king cannot draft a declaration of war and a dead king cannot send a declaration of war. And while the generals still planned their tactics and the soldiers still polished their weapons, for those were their duties, the people watched and they waited and they planned.

In the castle, the physicians brewed their medicine and their tonics and the healers collected their herbs and their plants and the priests said their prayers and sang their hymns, but the young king grew worse rather than better, as the old king had before.

And the queen sat at his bedside, as a bride should.

Then the great nobles came and they talked of succession and inheritance bloodlines. And they fought, for they all believed themselves to be the next king. But the king lay dying and he could not speak.

And the queen sat and she smiled and she spoke:

"This is not your choice to make."

And there was a great uproar, for even a queen should never speak unless spoken to. And though her husband would be king, a queen could never choose. And though she was the old kings child, a queen could never rule.

But the queen stood and she smiled and she spoke:

"There is no need to fight over a broken throne."

And out the window behind her, the night was lit by flames. For while the nobles had debated their politics and the generals had planned their tactics and the soldiers had polished their weapons, the people had risen up, for they had suffered enough.

And the castle gates were wide open for the people, for servants are of the people. And many a soldier had long since stopped polishing his weapon and joined the people, for they were of the people and they were weary of war.

And when the great nobles finished watching the people spill into the castle and turned back to the queen, they found that she had gone, for no queen wants to be in the castle when the revolution comes.

And the revolution came and the generals looked at their tactics, but they could do nothing, for a general without soldiers is just a man. And the nobles made speeches, but they could do nothing, for a noble without an army is just a man. And the king lay in his bed and he could do nothing, for he was just a man and he was dying.

And the queen had disappeared, for she could have done nothing, for she was just a woman.

And outside the city stood the woman who used to be queen and she was laughing and crying and shouting. And she would no longer be quiet for she had no more reason to be.

#ari writes stuff #ari writes short stuff #cw: sexism #cw: death #cw: illness #cw: war #I am not sure what this is #but it was fun #it just happened #I wanted to play with style a bit #and with leaving things unsaid

[thehungrycity]

Finally have a diagnosis for our sick kitty.

It was not kidney disease, or heart disease, or a lung issue, or a gastro intestinal issue. He has immune mediated hemolytic anaemia. I.e. His immune system is attacking his own red blood cells :(

Prognosis is ... unpredictable. Could be complete recovery, could be the worst outcome. He has been given medication that should help, and we just have to wait and see. :/

#cw: animal illness #cw: illness

[genesiswrld]

I’m sick as fuck!😭 ugh this is the worst! I think I have a fever too, need Bi-Han to freeze this shit out of me cuz I’m so miserable😔

#cw: illness #like this might be the worst sickness I’ve had in a while #this shit ain’t it😣 #sub zero #bi han #mk1 #mortal kombat 1 #mortal kombat #me things

[starandsims]

The spring of 1903 brought with it a fever that swept through not only the Carter family but all of New England. Every member of the Carter family felt its effects in some form, and most sadly, they received word from the coast that the fever had taken the life of William Carter, George’s older brother. William was buried on the coast instead of with the rest of the Carter family, a fact which burned George up even more than his fever. They weren’t able to attend the funeral because Harry was too sick to travel and George didn’t want to go without his family. He had no love for Isabel, keeping his brother one final time from his family.

#carter decades challenge #carter legacy #cldc #cldc g1 #cldc g2 #cldc: george carter #tw: illness #tw: death #cw: illness #cw: death #simblr #sims 4 #sims 4 story #ts4 gameplay #the sims 4 #ts4 decades challenge #sims 4 gameplay #sims 4 screenshots #ts4

[bita-bita]

As I said, my doctors are panicking abt my medical test results. And I'm still in the process of having more tests done.

Um.. so last night I was really depressed cuz my doc literally said I might die ://// idk if he meant it FOR REAL or if he just wanted to make sure I know it's a serious case and I should keep getting checked just to make sure it's nothing. Ok Idk, my body feels alright tbh, I'm really surprised they're suddenly saying that sort of stuff- ANYWAY.

What I wanted to say is that I believe anything that happens is connected to our inner feelings and thoughts. Like.. idk, illnesses can be a sign of oppressed emotions, jealousy or long-term anxiety, holding a grudge, envy or fears and stuff like that. Um, so when I was faced with this situation, I tried to find a lesson in it. And sometimes "bad things" that happen can actually help push us in the direction we desire.

For example, I'm a very anxious person. I have anxiety. And I'm hard on myself in the sense that I think I'm responsible about how I make ppl feel. (And yes that's true to a certain degree, I shouldn't go around kicking ppl. But do I need to overthink my every word and tone and action to the point of being extremely anxious? Do I have to hold such a high standard when it comes to every move I make?) I KNOW it's not good. It bothers me. It feels bad. But it was never bad enough to make me wanna make a serious change, yk? It's easier to just.. let it be and have the same familiar thoughts and feelings.

And so, the importance of the situation made me FORCE MYSELF to take some time and direct my thoughts in a way that I intended, not just some default patterns that cause me anxiety. Not to go with the familiar flow.

Cuz if I keep being the same person, having the same thoughts and feelings, doing the same things, how can I create something different? How can I expect to be a better, healthier, happier Bita?

I actually thought about it, cuz I was forced to! And I'm glad I was. Cuz otherwise I probably wouldn't have. and I realized, well I am gonna die someday, whether now or years from now, really doesn't make a difference, but thinking about the possibility of it all coming to an end, made me realize I don't want to live a life filled with worry and anxiety. I noticed I have goals and dreams. There are things I wanna experience, as Bita, in this time space reality. I know it doesn't end, and I know my experience of existence isn't limited to 100 years in Bita's human body. but still, there are things I wanna do AS Bita. And so I've decided nothing is worth getting mad at, and nothing is worth worrying over or getting anxious about. It's not worth it, not if it's going to cause distress to my lovely body. It's serving me well, it's doing its best, how can I put so much stress on it? How can I be so hateful towards it? How can I not be gentle and appreciative with it? It deserves all the love! It connects me to the physical realm! It lets me taste delicious food that's only possible in this amazing physical world! It helps me breathe, it pumps blood and life through my vains, and it moves me around the world, to beautiful places! Yeah nonphysical is cool and all, and yeah, I'd love to go back there and get the answers to my many questions, but.. but this world is soooo cool too! It's limited in a sense, yes. Things take fucking long to get created here, yesss. BUT CAKE! I WANNA EAT CAKE! You can't grab a piece of cake and bite into it in the nonphysical, you can't tasteeee the sweet taste on your tongue, it's not a concentrated feeling, it's great yeah but it's vague and it's... it's not physical!! I realized I LIKE physical! I still want to be physical! I'm not done with this world yet! And more importantly, I refuse to go out with an illness!!! I want a cool way of going *wooosh* back to nonphysical!

I mean if it's nothing and I'll keep living, I'd like to live a better life here for now! And if I'm to die, then I'd like to die with a good feeling, not like a miserable saddd person :/

Surely I still feel anxiety about the situation, and other things. but that's just a pattern that's familiar to me. it will take some time to change, but if I hold onto this feeling, this memory, this awakening, I'll eventually grow out of this habbit.

Mom is complaining abt something I did? Not worth getting upset about.

My friend did something I didn't like? Why get mad when I can keep my heart open and see people as.. just people. they are trying too, they have challenges too, not everyone wants to harm me, not everyone has ill intentions. I should love, for my sake. Not because they deserve it or don't.

I am my responsibility. I'm willing to let go, to forgive, to trust, to love, because of myself. Because it feels good to ME. It feels better than hating and criticizing.

To put it simply, I'm gonna chill out y'all!!! Everything has a solution. Everything can be fixed or replaced. Life is not a big deal. It's really not.

Pt. 2

#talk talk #cw: illness #cw: death #tw: death #tw: illness #law of attraction #spirituality #or whatever you wanna call it #just tagging to find it later if I need

[crowbone]

I am still in the hospital. This is to be expected when your gallbladder explodes and has to be removed the hard way.

That said, I’m on the rehab floor with an expected 7-8 days of rehab work left. Basically have four hours of rehab— both Physical and Occupational Therapy— per day. It tuckers me right out, I tell you what.

The best part is that I no longer seem to be having any more delusions at night.

I am still feeling extremely positive about leaving here during the expected date range.

I’m also extremely lucky to have encountered so many wonderful people helping me convalesce.

#cw: pain #cw: illness #cw: hospital #cw: gallbladder

[redacted-may]

May awakens from the worst nightmare she's ever experienced with a scream, and barely has time to catch her breath before she has to stagger her way into the bathroom and vacate her stomach's contents.

Even when the nausea passes, the hammering of her own hearbeat remains in her ears. Worse, why is it so hot in her quarters? Did something happen to the air conditioning?

She hauls herself back up to her feet and shakily makes her way to the sink so that she can splash her face with some cold blood a-

What. The. Fuck. Why are the faucets running with blood!? She squeezes her eyes shut and tries to wake up from whatever nightmare she's trapped in this time. Whatever is going on in the bathroom can't be real. It can't be.

Don't look in the mirror. You don't want to see the Grimm staring back at you, grinning with those gleaming fangs. No, go back out to the main room and...by the Brothers it's so hot that the air is wavering.

She has to get out of this nightmare. She has to! Grabbing up her weapon, an unsteady May exits her quarters and heads out into the hallways of Shade. She doesn't even know that she looks like she's looking like a walking corpse, pallid and drenched in sweat as her depleted aura flickers in and out. Even her breathing seems labored...

#startcom may #open batchall #cw: absolute nightmare scenario #cw: blood #cw: illness #cw: hallucinations

[batwynn]

Chronic Illness/health doctor and insurance question:

Does anyone know the magic words that can get you to circumvent the ‘you must try this med before we can put you on this med?’ Thing with doctors and insurances? My new PC doesn’t seem to get how bad my digestive stuff is and I’m trying to explain that taking Metformin and the side effects would most likely end up with me in the ER or worse. Like, my digestive track already gives me those side effects at a 10, I’m at risk of ulcerative colitis as it is, and I really can’t handle making things worse. I honestly would just straight up pretend ‘I tried it and it sucked ok let’s try the next one’ but they want to do blood work to see how it’s going so I can’t exactly fake it.

Is there some specific word I can use that they can send to the insurance about loss of quality of life not worth the risk or something?

(*The other medication options apparently aren’t like this so the fact that I have to ruin my body more because the Metformin is cheaper just pisses me off to no end.)

#chronic illness #Metformin #health insurance #request for help #advice #cw: illness

[akindplace]

In case anyone might come to my ask box and call me a communist again (I know, it doesn't make sense but I guess human rights are considered communism by some people), this blog is indeed pro-vaccine, pro-masks.

I have a chronic illness that makes my body more susceptible to infections. I already live in a huge amount of pain and everyday it feels like I am forcing myself to do simple things like eating and showering and going to appointments while most people can do that without feeling excruciating pain. I am not about to make my life more miserable or contribute to making someone else's life worse or even put them in danger by not taking safety measures.

It's about learning to live in community, believe in science, checking sources that are not fake and honestly you should care about the people around you, even if you don't even like them.

I live in a country where most people chose not to wear masks since the beginning of the pandemic, a country with a very negligent government, at one point we had one of the world's largest death records and that's not something to be proud of.

Help yourself and help others by vaccinating and using masks and keeping yourself clean. There are still disabled people out there who need to be protected from this disease because their immune system is already overwhelmed by fighting chronic illness, they shouldn't have to add another one to make their health worse.

And yes, I am all up for people who haven't vaccinated to be withheld from entering other countries, for people to have to wear masks while the virus is still out there, especially indoors.

It's better to be safe than sick. Take care.

#cw: covid #cw: safety #cw: chronic illness #cw: pain #cw: illness