#i was also given an inhaler which ive been too scared to try because the third side effect is. DEATH. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mandelene · 3 years

Note

✿: feeling so out of it, they need constant attention

You’ve got it! 💕 Thanks for the ask!

Someone asked me to write asthmatic Matthew in the ER a while ago, and I didn’t do it, but here it is now. 😂 I hope it's not total trash.

Sweet Normalcy

Word Count: 1555

Chest pain, the dull aching kind that flares up every time he inhales, that’s all he feels. Keeping his eyes open takes a great deal of effort, but the constant hissing flow of nebulized albuterol being delivered through the mask on his face makes it hard to get any sleep. Maintaining a train of thought for longer than fifteen seconds is also a sudden challenge. When he rolls his head to the right and looks up at the monitor behind him, he sees his heart rate is in the 140s and his oxygen saturation is at ninety-five percent on albuterol and oxygen. That’s not normal for him. None of this is normal. He can’t remember the last time things got this out of control.

“Matthew? Any better, love?” Dad asks him from the chair to his left. He’s been sitting there for hours now, continuously keeping vigilant watch.

It’s a busy night in the emergency department, and it feels a bit like he’s in a bad fever dream. The doctor checking in on him introduced herself earlier, but he can’t recall her name. An alarm goes off every few minutes from someone’s monitor, and it takes him longer than it should to recognize that it’s his monitor making that noise and alerting his nurse to keep coming over to assess him due to his seesawing oxygen saturation and heart rate.

Matthew’s not even sure what time it is anymore. He barely remembers anything. Every hour or so, he will doze off into a fitful half-sleep for twenty minutes or so before waking again and feeling disoriented. A nurse could tell him he’s been here for a week, and he’d believe them.

“Matthew? I asked if you’re feeling any better?” Dad asks again, leaning forward in his seat to grab his clammy left hand and squeeze it gently.

“A little,” Matthew lies, for his father’s sake. He wonders where Alfred and Papa are. They were here earlier, he’s pretty sure.

“I can tell when you’re not being truthful,” Dad sighs, squeezing his hand harder. “You’re not improving. You need to be admitted. This is ridiculous. You should have been admitted hours ago.”

Matthew hates seeing him stressed like this, but he also knows there’s nothing he can do about it at the moment. He feels himself slipping into momentary sleep again, and his eyes flutter shut. He wants to go home. Wants to be in his bed…Is it morning yet?

“Sixteen-year-old with a history of asthma…Patient accompanied by his father. Patient began oral corticosteroid treatment two days ago at home after experiencing wheezing, chest tightness, and coughing that was not fully improving with usual rescue medications…”

They’re talking about him—Matthew realizes that much, at least. He opens his glazed eyes and sees a new doctor approaching him. His ID badge says he’s a critical care doctor. Matthew’s not sure what the difference is between him and the other doctor he saw earlier, but he honestly can’t be bothered to care. He wants to sleep. Desperately. And he wants the chest pain to stop.

“Matthew, buddy?” the doctor says, putting a hand on his shoulder.

He doesn’t want to breathe anymore. His chest hurts too much, and speaking would require taking another agonizing breath.

"Mmmrgh" is all he can manage.

“He’s been less and less responsive,” Dad supplies from the other side of the room, and Matthew can hear the nervousness in his voice, which is unsettling. Dad rarely ever shows how anxious he is when someone’s sick. “I can’t get him to talk to me in full sentences anymore—just phrases.”

The doctor carefully sits him up, and Matthew feels his whole body shake. He rests his elbows against the stretcher to brace himself. A cold stethoscope touches his back, and he shivers.

“He’s still not moving air. He needs to be brought upstairs to intensive care to be monitored. We’ll continue IV steroid treatment and continuous albuterol. If he’s still like this, we can consider non-invasive ventilation and take it from there. Our main priority is to protect his airway.”

Dad says something, but Matthew doesn’t hear it over the noise of the nebulizer. He just knows he’s going to be moved soon and the treatment is going to become more serious now. If he weren’t so tired, he might be scared.

The doctor leaves, and Dad goes back to holding Matthew’s hand. “It’s going to be all right, love. You’ll receive better care soon and hopefully, you’ll start to feel better,” Dad tells him before using his other hand to pet his head. “Try to rest. I’ll be right here, and I won’t let anything happen to you, understand?”

Matthew nods. His eyes do close again, and he does get some brief rest. The next time he’s aware of his surroundings and wakes up, he’s already in the ICU, which means he slept through his transport. The respiratory therapist is setting him up on a BiPAP machine, and once it’s on, it makes his chest hurt even more, which he didn’t think was possible. He grits his teeth against the pain and tries not to make a fuss about it—it would just make Dad worry even more. The air being forced into his lungs is welcome yet excruciating at the same time.

But he doesn’t have to say anything for Dad to know he’s suffering. It’s written all over his face. “I know, poppet. It’s just temporary. It should help.”

It’s so exhausting that he falls asleep again without even needing to think about it. Again, he has no idea how much time passes until he sees the sun shining through the windows of the hospital, indicating that it’s finally morning. The BiPAP mask squeezing his face gets replaced with a regular oxygen mask again, and it occurs to him that his chest feels much lighter and his head is clearer. The worst is over. The air in his lungs feels crisp and refreshing...Almost sweet, even.

“How are you feeling?” Dad asks for the millionth time, still perched next to him.

“Better…For real this time.”

Dad hasn’t slept, of course. He never sleeps in such situations. He was likely watching him all night and conversing with his care team. “Good. You gave us all quite a scare.”

“Sorry.”

“Oh, no, it’s not your fault, love. Not at all…Do you think you’re feeling well enough to have some breakfast?”

“Yeah.”

Dad gives him a relieved smile and then goes off to request a breakfast tray for him. It gets brought up within half an hour, and even though Matthew feels a bit nauseous from the steroids in his system, he knows he needs to eat to gain some energy back.

He’s given some pancakes, a fruit cup, and orange juice. He decides to make a move for the orange juice first because his mouth feels incredibly dry and gross. He picks up the carton and that’s when he notices just how shaky he still is. His hands are trembling violently from all of the bronchodilators in his system.

Dad quickly takes the carton from him, sticks a straw into it, and then brings it back up to Matthew’s lips. “Here, poppet, I’ll hold it for you.”

“…I can do it.”

“You’ll spill it. Don’t be stubborn.”

It doesn’t feel great to have poorer motor skills than a toddler, but Matthew sips some juice through the straw anyway, allowing himself to be fed because he doesn’t have a choice. He finishes the entire carton, one pancake, and half of the fruit cup before his stomach protests. Dad doesn’t seem too happy about him not finishing the meal, but he doesn’t push it either.

And just as he’s finishing up, he finds out Alfred and Papa are outside of the unit, waiting to be allowed in. He’s only permitted to have two visitors at a time, so Dad leaves to take a quick trip home to eat and shower while Alfred and Papa take watch next.

“Dude, you’re alive! Thank God, man. No offense, but you were looking really rough and out-of-it yesterday,” Alfred exclaims upon arrival, bright-eyed and full of pep as always. “It’s good to see you’re looking more like yourself now.”

“We’re so relieved, mon chou. Your father said you may be able to come home as soon as the day after tomorrow.”

“I hope so…Sorry for making everyone worry.”

Alfred throws his hands up in the air and shakes his head dramatically. “I have to teach you everything, don’t I, Mattie? You’re not supposed to apologize for being sick. You’re supposed to milk it for all its worth and make everyone feel bad for you and buy you get well soon gifts. Tell Dad when he comes back that you wanna play the new Pokemon Snap on the Switch.”

“That’s what you want to play, Alfred.”

“Yeah, but we can share it, right?”

“Alfred, your brother is seriously ill, and all you’re thinking about are video games again! Where did your father and I go wrong? You could show some sympathy!” Papa scolds, pinching the bridge of his nose in aggravation.

“It was a joke! Kinda…Obviously, I love ya, Matt! I was really worried, too!”

And he has never craved normalcy as much as he does now.

Yup. Things are already going back to normal.

#hetalia #aph canada #hws canada #aph england #hws england #aph france #hws france #aph america #hws america #aph face family #hws face family #drabbles #hurt comfort #asthmatic matthew

43 notes · View notes

elisaphoenix13 · 5 years

Text

Trigger The Light (Ch.1)

It was just the three of them. Tony, Nebula, and Quill. The men were in bad shape after almost a month of drifting in space (Quill could keep them on track for Earth, but actually flying the ship would burn their resources faster), and miraculously, Carol found them and got them back to Earth. They were both taken into the compound and given an IV before meeting up with the remaining Avengers and discussing their next move. Tony shut down when he saw Stephen and Peter on the screens in front of them, as well as another teenage boy, and when he tried to leave the room, he collapsed. Quill kept uncharacteristically quiet throughout the whole thing as he studied each face that popped up on the screens, and only when the others talked about going after Thanos did he say something.

"The ship needs repairs." He mumbles.

"How long will that take?" Steve asks and Rocket was the one to answer.

"We can leave in the morning. Quill...you gotta stay. You're in no shape to go back out there."

Quill shrugs. "For once in my life, I want to stay on Earth. Just make sure you bring my ship back in one piece."

That had been the end of that conversation. The able bodied team members left to confront Thanos in space the next morning, and Tony and Quill took the next few days to recover. The engineer's baby daughter had survived the snap out of his entire immediate family, and when they were well enough to leave the medical ward, he approached Quill in the common area. The outlaw had been lazily scrolling through the internet on one of Tony's Starkpads, but nothing processed in his mind. He wasn't in the mood to try to catch up on what happened in the past thirty years while he was gone, and he didn't really see the point because of the Snap.

"Quill."

The man looks up at Tony and finds not only baby Diana on his hip, but also another little girl standing beside him with an overnight bag. He had recently met her just a couple of days ago, found out her name was Cassie, and that her Dad was one of the victims of the Snap. Her mother and stepfather were in the middle of traveling and they had no way of contacting them.

"I...I can't stay here. I bought a cabin by a lake and I'm taking the girls with me. You're welcome to come if you want."

Quill looks at the trio standing a few feet away and he nods. "Yeah...sure."

__________________________

Five years passed. Tony and the girls made the best of it, and Quill stayed because he bonded with Diana and Cassie. It wasn't like there was much for him out in space anyway. Rocket and Nebula were borrowing his ship, out doing who knows what, (helping out the world and the universe probably) and Quill was helping Tony raise the girls. Well, not so much raising...just helping. Being the uncle Diana called him and making sure Tony didn't get lost in his head or lock himself in his lab too long. There were very few pictures of his late family around the house and those few still hurt the engineer to look at sometimes.

"UNCLE QUILL!" Diana yells from outside, and the pirate flies off the couch and out of the cabin to find the little girl standing under the apple tree and looking up. Cassie was a couple feet away reading a book.

"Shit, don't scare me like that. What do you need kiddo?"

"I want an apple!"

Quill looks up at the tree and, considering how high up the lowest apple was, figured that not even Cassie would have been able to reach. He was the tallest member of the household anyway so it made sense that Diana automatically thought to ask him for help. With a smile, he grabs three apples, tells the little girl to wait, and walks back inside with the fruit to wash them. After that, he goes back outside and hands one to Diana before following her over to her little fort and handing another apple to Cassie.

"Is Tony in his lab again?" She asks as Quill sits on one of the lawn chairs and Dia crawls into her fort.

"Nah. I think he's making dinner actually."

"At least it's not you. We still haven't refilled the fire extinguisher." Cassie sasses and Quill flicks her forehead.

"Maybe we should talk about that window you broke-"

"Okay truce!"

Cassie bats away his hand and he chuckles as Gerald walks over to see what all the excitement is about. The alpaca nudges Quill with his muzzle when he notices the man's apple, and the pirate groans before taking a knife out of his pocket. He cuts off a slice and offers it to the animal and then gently pushes him away.

"Alright, now get out of here. Go raid the garden."

He stands up and herds the alpaca away from the girls' area and he watches curiously as a car pulls into the driveway. As far as he knew, neither he nor Tony were expecting company, so he waits until the car is parked and sighs when Steve and Natasha climb out of the car. Another person gets out of the back seat but was quickly hidden behind Steve as the trio made their way over to Quill.

"It's been a hot minute since we've seen you." He says to them and pulls the Captain into a hug. The hug gave him the opportunity to see who else came with them and it had his eyes widening. He recognized the man as someone that had been on the monitors when he and Tony made it back to Earth. A Snap victim.

Steve moves away and motions toward the shorter man as Diana leaves her fort to hug Natasha. "This is Scott. Scott Lang. He's-"

"Not to be rude, but they said Cassie was here." Scott interrupts.

Before Quill can turn to ask Cassie if she knew this man, she was rushing past him and falling into Scott's arms. The way he held Cassie was clear enough to the pirate that Scott was Cassie's father, and it brought a warm feeling to his chest. It was nice to see that the teen got one of her parents back and how happy it made her. Quill loved the girls. They were family, and he would do anything to keep them happy.

"I'm a little confused." He finally says after a few minutes of letting Scott and Cassie reunite and they all look at him. "Weren't you snapped?"

"No. That's partially why we're here." Steve answers.

"Explanation after food. I'm starving." Scott says just as the screen door opens.

"Hey! Chow time!" Tony yells as he heads toward them after stepping off the patio. He raises an eyebrow when he notices the three extra people. "Good thing we always make extra. Porcupine eats like Capsicle."

Tony then notices Scott and his mouth drops open as the younger man leaves Cassie's side and hugs the engineer. Tony pats his back in bewilderment and Scott pulls away after a few seconds to endlessly thank him for taking care of Cassie. They all go inside, Natasha carrying Diana on her hip, for dinner and once Scott gets a good amount of food into his stomach, he explains where he had been the last five years. The conversation did get sidetracked to Cassie's care again and Tony had recovered enough from his earlier shock to hold his hand up to quiet Scott.

"Hang on. I'm not the only one that took care of her. Quill had a part in it too."

Quill stops chewing on his bite of pasta and shakes his head after swallowing his food. "I didn't do anything." He clears his throat when Scott's golden eyes settle on him. "Tony did all the...parenting. I just...babysat sometimes I guess."

Tony and the girls immediately denied his words. They let Scott know that Quill did a lot for them just like Tony, and Scott stared at the pirate for a few more moments before turning the conversation back to the subject of the Quantum Realm and his theory. When time travel came up, Tony rubbed his hand over his face as he thought it over.

"We've all lost someone. Maybe I didn't lose a lover, but I still lost friends." Scott says quietly and Steve nods.

"We all did. We lost friends...family. You lost your kids."

Natasha reaches across the table to gently grab Tony's trembling hand. "You lost Mama Bear too. We all lost him. He means everything to us too. If it weren't for him, this family wouldn't be one."

Tony inhales and let his breath out slowly. "I...I can only promise to try. I don't want this to backfire and end up without more of you. I can't risk the girls."

"That's enough for us. Take all the time you need so you're confident it will work." Steve says.

The billionaire nods and they all finish their dinner on a more positive note. They all caught Scott up on what they could, and afterwards Steve and Natasha left for the compound after Tony promised to call them when he found anything. Scott obviously was going to stay with them because Cassie was with them, and Tony showed him upstairs to the room he would be using. The one next to Quill's.

Quill himself was cleaning up after their meal. Since he couldn't do much cooking, he was usually stuck with the chore to do the dishes and clean the kitchen. Which took him a little longer since there was more to clean. Even though there was a fifth person living at the cabin now, it was still quiet and Quill just assumed that Scott and Cassie were catching up. Maybe all four of them were. Diana was only a baby when the Snap happened but Scott still knew her brothers and Stephen. The pirate was pretty much a stranger. He only knew Stephen and Peter for a few hours.

"Shit!" Quill hisses under his breath when he cuts himself on a knife hidden in the sink full of soapy water.

"There's a reason there's plastic on one end." Scott says from beside him and the pirate nearly jumped out of his skin.

"The hell?! How long have you been standing there?"

Scott smirks and Quill's heart flips at the sight.

Wait.

Where the hell did that come from?

Sure, Gamora was just a really good friend when he lost her, but was he actually attracted to Scott? Maybe the younger man was nice to look at, and maybe his eyes were really pretty in the light of the setting sun...

...Quill was in some serious trouble. It hadn't even been five hours and he was pining after Scott. This wasn't him. He flirted. Looked at potential lovers all together, not specific parts. Not golden eyes, not the shy smile Scott was giving him, not how the man smelled of mint and oranges. Stop. Stop paying so much attention.

"Do you need a bandage or anything for that?" Scott asks as he motions toward Quill's finger.

"No. It's not that deep. I've definitely had worse." The pirate sucks on his finger and then returns to his task of finishing with the dishes.

"I...uh...wanted to thank you. For taking care of Cassie when I couldn't."

"I told you, Tony did everything."

"That's not what he and the girls told me."

"You're welcome then I guess. She's a good kid." Quill says as he puts the last of the dishes on the drying rack and dries his hands. "I thought you would be spending time with her."

"I had a few hours with her, but she and Dia are getting ready for bed."

Quill looks at Scott and blinks. "Hours? How long have I been cleaning?" He looks at the clock. "I must have zoned out. Beer?"

Scott nods and Quill grabs a couple of beers from the fridge, and the two make their way into the living room. Once they collapse onto the couch, Quill hands one of the beers to Scott and then turns on the tv, putting a movie on. The rest of the evening passed in somewhat comfortable silence as they watched the movie, and just when Quill was about to strike up a conversation, he looked over at Scott and found the man fast asleep. He turns off the tv when the movie ends and grabs the blanket off the back of the couch, throws it over Scott, and grabs their empty beer bottles. He rinses them before throwing them in the recycling, and quietly asks FRIDAY to turn off the lights before retiring to bed himself.

#peter quill #scott lang #antlord #antman #starlord #mama bear au #ironstrange #tony stark #diana stark strange (oc)#cassie lang #avengers endgame #avengers

45 notes · View notes

xxx-cat-xxx · 5 years

Note

Peter running away

So, this fic.It wasn´t the prompt, it was just me. I wrote a draft, then changed the storyline and deleted it all. I talked to @awesomesockes, changed the storyline again, and wrote about 2k words more than originally planned. Then amazing @whumphoarder beta´d the hell out of it, for which I´m infinitely grateful. I hope that it´s sort of acceptable now.

Hurt Tony, hurt Peter, Irondad. May and Bruce also play their part. Angst, injury, blood, panic attack, vomiting.

One of These Days

Peter’s spider senses don’t even have time to warn him before the barrel of a gun presses hard into his temple. Tony is still in the middle of an angry lecture while simultaneously blasting a hole into the wall and relaying their status to the rest of the team, so Peter doesn’t blame him when he completely misses the incident.

“ - told you a million times that no means no, but of course Peter Parker has to know better and follow me inside when I explicitly told him not to, because he’s got years of experience fighting evil and -”

“Mr. Stark?”

“Don’t. Interrupt. Me. I have every right to be pissed at you -“

“Mr Stark.” This time it’s a much more feminine voice calling his name, and finally Tony turns his head around. “Step out of the suit.”

In a split second, Tony takes in Peter, the gun against his head, and the woman aiming it. The fingers of his right hand start to move, inconspicuously signalling his armour to do who-knows-what. But it seems their enemy caught the attempt as well.

“Get out of the suit,” she orders. ”Right now.”

“Okay, okay, Ms Trunchbull, no need to get aggressive,” Tony says. He orders the suit to open with a rough gesture before stepping out of it.

Tony is still wearing a Foo Fighters shirt with an oversized print of Dave Grohl’s face, paired with the sweatpants he was working in before the Avengers were called out for the mission, all of which would be funny to Peter if he wasn’t busy decidedly not freaking out about the whole situation. He desperately wishes that the two seconds of warning Tony had were enough for him to do whatever is necessary to get them out of here, because Peter has fucked up big this time.

“Now,” the woman says, a bit of triumph playing into her otherwise calm tone, “make the suit come over to me. Slowly.”

“Not a fan of turning over my property,” Tony says. He’s playing for time, his eyes seeking Peter’s and signalling something urgently. Be ready, Peter reads, and hopes with all he has that he’s right.

“Stark. I won’t wait any longer.”

The woman pushes the gun harder into Peter’s temple. He tries not to flinch, not to show how loud and fast his heart is beating inside his chest. But Tony picks it up, anyway—Peter can see the briefest moment of panic crossing his expression before it is replaced by determination. He gives the suit a signal and it slowly starts moving towards their captor. Peter holds his breath. Any second now, and -

“Down!” Tony shouts in the same moment that the suit blows up and all hell breaks loose.

The shockwave of the explosion hits Peter and throws him off his feet even before he has time to duck. He feels the gun going off more than he hears it, and this is when he is sure that he’s done for. At least I died on a mission, he thinks as he drops, but it’s cold comfort, with nobody saved and nothing gained from dying in a stupid ambush.

But Peter doesn’t die. It’s worse.

There’s a choked inhale on his left, a muttered curse, and then Tony’s body hits the ground, limp and lifeless.

Peter’s brain skips. Suddenly he is kneeling next to the older man, bending over him, pressing his hands into Tony´s stomach where the bullet hit him. There’s blood all over his palms, thick and wet and too much, and he’s never known how bright the colour red can be.

The next thing he knows, he’s lying in a SHIELD medical van. May isn’t there. Tony isn’t there. He’s alone, the world is all wrong, and it is completely his fault.

Peter’s suit is pulled down to his waist, revealing a number of ugly bruises covering his torso. There’s a dull ache all over his body, an IV plugged into the back of his hand.

“… ran right into the trap.”

His enhanced hearing picks up someone talking into a phone just outside of the van. The voice is unfamiliar, but given the scenery, he’s pretty sure that it must be a SHIELD agent—a medic, maybe.

“Stark´s in surgery right now, they say there won´t be any lasting damage. Lucky bastard. We told them a million times that it’s silly to take a child on missions. But you know Stark, he’s even more stubborn than he is rich. Hope he learned his lesson.”

The realization that Tony made it through is dwarfed by the enormous wave of guilt that washes over Peter.

He doesn’t think when he stumbles down from the gurney and onto his feet. The IV is pulled out even before the dizziness in his head has settled. The suit follows next. He grabs an oversized SHIELD sweater from a hook where someone has left it and throws it on without caring how the sleeves dangle, empty, over his hands.

And then Peter runs.

Several of his ribs must have been broken in the explosion, as each pace is accompanied by a stab of agony around his chest, and there’s a burning kind of pain on his shins and forearms where the skin has been grazed. But it’s good. It gives him structure, distraction, something to mute his thoughts while he makes his way through the city, not caring about which direction he’s going and never looking back.

Peter stops only when the pain gets so bad that he can’t breathe anymore. Then he stumbles into the entryway of a house in a shady neighbourhood, presses himself into a corner and wraps his arms around his knees. It’s cold, and for a moment he longs for the suit’s integrated heater before remembering that these days are over now. That Tony will take the suit, again, and this time there won’t be any second chances. Peter is not even angry. He probably deserves far worse.

It’s hours later, when the cold starts to seep into his bones and he can’t stop trembling, that he starts to realize the gravity of the situation he’s brought on himself. He doesn’t have money, or even his phone. He definitely won’t be knocking on people’s doors at night and ask for help, not in boxers, not with blood still smeared all over his arms and legs.

The pain around his ribs hasn’t let up; they’re not healing as they should between the cold slowing him down and the hunger gnawing in his stomach. The ache and exhaustion are making him lightheaded.

He doesn’t realize when he lies down, but at some point, he finds himself curled up on the floor, biting his lips bloody in order to stop his teeth from chattering. He’s not sure if he could get up even if he wanted to. He’s not sure if he cares either. The last thought that comes before he passes out is whether he´ll at least be allowed to say good-bye to Karen.

It’s Bruce who finds him. He must have been trying to rouse him for a while, because there’s fear edged around his mouth and a hint of green on his neck when Peter opens his eyes.

“Finally.” He sighs with relief when Peter blearily glances up at him. “What on earth were you thinking?”

“Nothing,” Peter mutters. He shakes his head awake, then stops dizzily, but the world doesn’t cease spinning around him. The memories come back in a disorienting rush.

He closes his eyes again.

“No, you stay awake with me, Peter,” Bruce says with an urgency that somehow manages to get through the haziness clouding his thoughts. “Here, drink this.”

He presses a bottle of water into Peter’s hands. His fingers are numb, and half of it spills down onto his shirt while he tries to drink. The drops feel warm on his icy skin.

“Are you hurt?” Bruce asks.

“No,” Peter says without caring to check whether that’s true. Then, because he has to know, even if he’s scared of the reply, he asks, “Is Mr. Stark okay?”

“Yes, Peter. They had to do an emergency surgery, but he is stable now. He mistook me for Jarvis the first time he woke up, but once he’s thinking clearer he’ll want to know where you are. I’m glad I found you before he realized what’s going on, or else he’d probably go looking for you with IV bags trailing behind him.” Bruce chuckles a bit before he turns serious again. “We were all worried, kid, your aunt most of all.”

“May called you?”

Bruce nods. “She thought you’d spent the night at the compound, but when you didn’t message in the morning, she got nervous.”

“What did you tell her?” Peter asks, his voice trembling a bit.

“Well, Jarvis picked up your face on the security footage just before that. Otherwise we wouldn’t have had a choice but tell her the truth. Pepper told her that you were at training and will call her back once you’re done.”

Pepper lied for me, Peter thinks. He wouldn’t have thought it possible to feel even more guilty, but somehow it happens. It must have shown on his face, because Bruce’s expression softens visibly.

“Look, Peter. I’m not great at people stuff,” he admits. “You need someone else to talk to right now. But I promise that nobody is angry at you. Let’s get back to the compound, and you’ll see everything is alright.”

You can’t know, Peter thinks. You weren’t there when I nearly got Tony killed. You weren’t there the last time he took the suit.

But he gets up all the same, steadying himself on the wall, and whispers back, “Okay.”

“Pepper made me promise not to crack any jokes that could potentially aggravate your guilt, but honestly, it’s so hard to resist right now.” Tony grins through half-lidded eyes.

Bruce has forced Peter to call and reassure May, shower, eat, and drink a litre of water before finally letting him see Tony. The engineer is propped up in a hospital bed, tubes and wires sticking out of him at odd places, and, in his own words, he’s high as a kite.

“You look like a sad puppy, kid,” he giggles, and Tony Stark giggling is definitely the weirdest thing Peter has seen this week, Ned’s YouTube history included. “Like those kids they use in aid commercials for orphanages.”

Peter doesn’t know what to say. He’d braced himself for a lot of things, but this is definitely not what he expected.

“But seriously? Leaving your suit and taking off?” Tony continues.

He’d barely been awake when Bruce had explained the situation, so Peter can’t help but admire that he even remembers their talk despite the mashed-up state his brain must be in from the post-surgery meds cocktail. “I understand that SHIELD medics are scary, and you’re definitely not the first one to bolt from a van, but that’s more a move I’d expect from Barton. Or myself.”

“I wasn’t thinking,” Peter starts. “I just - “

“See? Told you he’s doing okay,” Bruce interrupts, opening the door with his shoulder since his hands are full between the two smoothies he’s carrying. He sets one on Tony’s nightstand and presses the other into Peter’s hand.

“So, how are you feeling?” he asks, facing Tony.

“’m good,” the man declares unconvincingly. He rubs his eyes with one hand and his face screws up in pain at the movement. “If I promise not to stand up too fast, can I get back to the workshop?”

“Sure,” Bruce snorts, not bothering to hide the sarcasm. He fiddles with the IV and Tony’s features relax visibly after a few moments. “Tell me, what is it you’re working on?”

“It’s top-secret, Brucie.” Tony frowns as if trying to concentrate, his eyelids drooping ever so slowly. “’m tired. Tell Dum-E…make some coffee…”

The rest of the sentence is lost as Tony’s eyes fall shut and his hand goes slack over his face. Bruce places it back down on the mattress with a gentleness Peter has never noticed about him before.

“You should get some rest, Peter,” Bruce says, turning back to him. “Your aunt is on the way, but knowing the rush hour traffic, she’ll take at least half an hour to get here.”

“Yeah,” Peter mutters. The realization that she left work early for him—because of him—adds another knot of guilt to his stomach. He doesn’t want to go out and face Pepper or the other Avengers. “Can I just sit here for a few minutes?”

“Sure.” Bruce gives him a once-over. “But promise that you’ll finish that smoothie.”

Peter nods. He waits until Bruce shuts the door before looking back at his mentor.

The hospital gown Tony is wearing has slipped out of position, exposing the large network of scars on his chest where the arc reactor had once been. It’s the first time Peter sees it up close. He thinks of the massive hole that must have been there in Tony’s body to create such a scar, and then thinks of the bullet that tore through him because of Peter’s stupidity.

Peter blinks and suddenly feels himself back on his knees, Tony’s blood soaking through his clothes. His stomach clenches. Peter swallows thickly, tasting the sandwich he had earlier at the back of his throat. He sets the smoothie down on the table as far as possible away from him.

There’s still blood under the fingernails of his right hand. He picks at it, but it won’t come off—just sticks to the nail of the other hand instead. Peter can feel his breaths speeding up, his chest going tight, and suddenly tears are streaming down his face.

He stumbles to the adjacent bathroom and lets himself sink onto the tiled floor. He hugs his legs to his chest and cries and cries and cries, over everyone he’d put in danger and everyone he couldn’t save.

There’s blood everywhere and air won’t reach his lungs. He’s sobbing, then choking, then gagging. Bile runs down his chin as his vision starts going black.

“Breathe, Peter, in and out,” a voice says firmly, and Peter tries. The first inhale does nothing to help him feel better. The second as least sends a bit of oxygen back to his brain. The third brings sick with it.

“Over the toilet,” Tony directs, pushing him towards the bowl. Peter bends over it and heaves up the remainders of a sandwich, the broken ribs screaming in pain, tears still running freely down his cheeks.

“I’m so, so sorry,” he chokes between retches.

“It’s alright, kid,” Tony replies, his hand steady on Peter’s back. “You’re okay.”

Peter is sure he isn’t, but at least he can breathe again, and the nausea is slowly letting up. He takes the glass of water Tony hands him and rinses his mouth.

“Now. If you think you’re done, we should consider moving back to the room. I’ve got approximately 18 seconds until I pass out, and I’d really, really, like to avoid doing so on these bathroom tiles.”

Peter looks up at Tony, who is standing, albeit barely, colour draining rapidly from his face.

“I’m sorry,“ he repeats, wiping his mouth roughly and getting up.

“Save it for later,” Tony says, his voice a bit shaky. He closes his eyes when Peter puts an arm around his mentor’s shoulders to support him back to the bed.

“Should I call a doctor?” Peter asks hesitantly.

“Nah, just - need a moment,” Tony says through gritted teeth. It’s evident that he’s hurting, but the last thing Peter is going to do is call for help against his will.

They sit on the edge of the mattress for a bit, Tony breathing deeply in an attempt to get the pain under control, Peter sniffling occasionally.

“Now, will you tell me what that little episode was about?” Tony asks. He takes a deep breath and finally opens his eyes.

“Nothing,” Peter says quickly. But he can still taste the bile at the back of his mouth - still feel the blood slick and warm on his fingers.

“Peter, “ Tony urges, “I’ve got a hole shot through me, I’m half-drugged up, and I’m definitely not a patient person on my best days. So please, let’s just skip to the part where I have consoled you enough that you open up to me and tell me why the hell you were gone the whole night and then had a breakdown in my bathroom.”

“It was all my fault,” he whispers, finally letting out the words that have been echoing in his head for a so long. He doesn’t look up at Tony. “I followed you into that building, and you got hurt because I screwed up.”

“Yeah, I already know that much,” Tony says flippantly. “So what?” He waves his hand in a casual gesture. “We are superheroes, or whatever you call that nowadays. Getting shot is an occupational hazard.”

“But…” Peter is at a loss for words. “I didn’t listen to you,” he says helplessly.

“And you certainly learned your lesson.” With a groan, Tony pulls his legs up on the hospital bed and lets himself sink back against the pillows. His words reverberate in Peter’s head and the memory of the medic saying the same line about Tony comes back to him.

“You’re-You’re still going to let me go on missions? You’re not gonna take the suit?” he asks, his heart beating fast, as if saying the words loud would make Tony change his mind immediately.

“The suit?” Tony gives a short laugh that turns into a hacked cough. “It’s not like you’d stop being Spider-Man if I take the suit away. And I wouldn’t want you to, either. The last thing we need is another vigilante roaming around the streets of New York. I’d rather be the one in control of your activities than watching you go underground.”

He grimaces painfully as he dabs a bit of blood from his lips. “Internal injuries, nothing to worry about,” he adds upon Peter’s alarmed gaze.

“You-You should probably -”

“You are not in any position to tell me what to do, young man,” Tony warns. “Just because I’m not going all Howard Stark on you doesn’t mean I’m not still pissed off. ”

“Yeah,” Peter breathes. “Okay.”

He knows that he should be relieved. And he is, sort of. But the guilt is still sitting hard and tight around his heart.

His thoughts are interrupted when Bruce comes back to tell him that May just arrived.

“You’re better now?” Tony asks when Peter hesitantly gets up from the mattress. The pain in his mentor’s eyes is duller, but he looks infinitely more tired.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Peter says.

“Good.” Tony is slurring a little now, his eyes fighting to stay open. “See you in the lab tomorrow.”

“In your dreams,” Bruce snorts. “You try again to get out of this bed in the next 48 hours and Pepper will lock down the suits for a month.”

“That’s not fair,” Tony protests weakly. Bruce hides a smile.

May still smells like hospital disinfectant, but she also smells like home.

“So, what happened?” she asks once they are sitting in the car. “The last time you had this look on your face was when you and Ned used up my perfume for a science experiment. And I’ve seen the news, so don’t tell me that it was just a training weekend.”

“I - Mr. Stark got hurt. Because of me,” Peter confesses. His voice sounds so, so small.

“I see,” May says. Then she doesn’t say anything for a while. And it’s good, because she doesn’t ask how he is feeling, or what he needs, or any other questions he can’t answer. She keeps an arm around him while Happy drops them back at the house, then nudges him into changing back to his own clothes and makes him the largest mug of hot chocolate he’s ever received in his life.

He’s sipping it when a bit of it drops on his pyjamas. It’s not red or even remotely resembling blood, but it’s enough to make the tears start all over again.

“I- I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” he mumbles, wiping his eyes futilely.

“Nothing’s wrong with you,” May says. “Sometimes the world can be too big, even for Spider-Man. It’s okay to be overwhelmed.”

She hugs him tightly, holds him close until the tears dry out.

“What, none of your genius superheroes thought of simply giving you a hug?” she teases, and he chuckles through the sobs.

He’s not alright, but then, nobody ever is. Especially not superheroes.

329 notes · View notes

elvendara · 7 years

Note

Part 4 ?for werecat mc and werewolf saeyoung alternative meeting Please! !

OMG This is turning into a book!! With so many parts, I’ll just post the previous ones here for ease:

1, 2, 3

Shecould barely walk, but she didn’t dare let go of Saeyoung’s hand. A nurseeasily pulled her hand away from him and kept her from moving forward. Thestretcher he was on kept rolling down the hall. She tried to go around thenurse, but he held her easily.

“Youcan’t follow him in there miss. I’m sorry, you’ll have to wait here.” MCstopped moving, her eyes on Saeyoung until the double doors closed and he waslost to her. She nodded absently at the nurse and he walked away. She stood,dazed and woozy. Her vision faltered and her body went cold. Darkness seepedinto the edge of her sight and she was sucked into a tunnel where her worldturned upside down. The pinpoint of light vanishing completely. She never felther body hit the floor.

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

Sevenwatched her sleep, holding her hand, hoping for any sign that she was waking. Thefirst thing he had thought upon waking himself was Saeran and MC. How had thosetwo become his priority? His brother was obvious, but he had only known MC fora day, if that. Could he count the hours he’d known her as only a cat? He smiledat the memory of her curled up under his arm. He hoped he would be able to seethat part of her again.

He worriedfor her, as much as he worried for his brother. The doctors were trying todetox him, but he was being difficult. They had had to restrain him because ofhis violence. MC had been right, Saeran’s mind was muddled and broken. Even ifthey were able to cleanse his body of the drug, would his mind ever recover?

Hesqueezed MC’s hand, willing her to wake up. He felt a small twitch, her fingerscurving around his palm. He quickly focused on her face, standing and loomingover her.

“MC?”

Her eyelidsfluttered as she tried to open them. he reached for her cheek and caressed it,waiting for her eyes to open completely.

Whenthey did, he breathed a huge sigh of relief. She answered with a small smileand another squeeze of her hand.

“Saeyoung…”she exhaled with a croak. He laughed, his heart thumping rapidly at the onesingle word. Her first word. His name.

“What…whathappened?” she asked shakily. “You…” she tried to sit up, her head spinning. “Oh!”

“Staystill, you were severely dehydrated and malnourished. Your body is still veryweak.”

She gazedat him and tried again, “How, how are you here? You were shot!”

Saeyoungsat on the edge of the bed, his hip against hers. He shrugged, “I heal fast.”

She shookher head, “How long have I been out?” she whispered.

“Fourdays. They’ve been feeding you through those.” He pointed to the IV in herarms. Two bags of liquid flowing into it.

She didfeel better in a way, but her body somehow felt more fragile than when she hadfirst been able to revert to her human form. She was grateful for Saeyoung’s presence,and her heart felt lighter knowing that he was safe. There had been so muchblood, his already pale face whiter from the loss. He looked healthy now, hiseyes still sad, but not as anxious.

“Yourbrother?” she asked finally.

Helooked down and away. “He’s here too, but…” he shrugged. “He doesn’t want tosee me. He isn’t doing well. They, they want to move him to the mental ward.” Hiseyes teared up at the thought.

“I’mso sorry Saeyoung.” he swallowed and nodded.

“Iwish…I wish things were different…he…he’s so broken…” his voice broke and hisbody was wracked with emotions he’d been trying desperately to hold in. Shegathered him into her arms and he fell across her chest, his head buried into thehollow of her neck. He wept against her, the flow of tears saturating the frontof her gown.

His handsclutched at her arms painfully but she held onto him anyway, letting him purgehimself. Eventually his sobs quieted to sniffles, but he did not let her go.Instead he climbed onto the bed and curled himself around her, his right legover her two small ones.

“Am Ihurting you?” he asked.

“No.”she ran her fingers through his red curly hair, it was soft and smelled earthy,like a forest. She inhaled slowly, taking him in, she didn’t want to let himgo. How had this strange man twisted himself into her heart so easily? Why wasshe so drawn to him? He obviously had a lot of issues. Family drama, emotionalbaggage, secrets, and lies. Yet, even if she had been able to, she knew shewould never walk away from him.

“Whatare you thinking?” she finally broke the silence.

“I’mscared.” He replied softly.

“Of?”she prodded.

“Losingmy brother. Losing you. Losing my friends. I’ve never had anything to losebefore and now, everything I have I want to keep. Am I worthy of keeping itthough? My life was shit, I was shit, shit doesn’t deserve to be happy, it justdeserves to be flushed down the toilet.”

“Don’tsay that! You aren’t shit.”

“Youdon’t know me MC. The things I’ve done. The people I’ve hurt.” She could feelhis tears fall again, this time slow and steady. She lifted his face and lookedinto his eyes. They were drowning in sorrow and self-pity.

“Fuckyou Saeyoung, Seven, Luciel!” she growled under her breath. “How dare you callyourself shit! I would never care about shit! Are you saying that there issomething wrong with me for caring about you? For wanting to stay with you? Forwanting to make you happy? Is that what you’re saying? Because if it is, then,fuck you more!”

Saeyoungcouldn’t help but laugh at the profanity that was coming out of this smallwoman, in her squeaky voice.

“Andyou’re laughing at me now?” she arched her brows and scowled at him.

He snappedhis mouth shut, “I’m sorry, no…I…I just…can I…” he leaned in and waited for herto close the distance, not wanting to presume. She made him wait, but finallyshe did connect her lips to his. He kissed her gently, loving the feel of herplump and velvety lips. Her hands caressed his cheeks and made their way intohis hair where they tangled into the curls and clutched at them, pulling himmore firmly against her. He moaned into her mouth and she parted her lips. His tonguedelved in at the invitation. He connected with hers and they twirled aroundeach other taking turns sucking at each other’s tongues. Saeyoung pulled away,trying to catch his breath and clear his mind. She made him question everythingabout himself, his life, his future. He rolled off the bed and stood, runninghis hand through his hair, trying to think.

“Issomething wrong?” she asked weakly.

He turnedto her, lips parted, tongue trying to moisten them. How did his mouth get sodry?

“No.I just. I’ve never…” he shook his head and clasped her hand. “I think we shouldtake things slow. There are things about me, things you should know.”

“Ifit’s about your past, what you’ve done…I don’t care.” She insisted.

He smiledsadly, “I’d still like you to know. And…there are other things…please, just,give me time.”

She smiled,“Of course!”

………………………………..

MCsat in her apartment, it had been weeks since she had been released from thehospital. She had seen Saeyoung a few times since then, but he was busy withgetting his brother better. She had met several of his friends, Yoosung, Zen,Jumin, and Jaehee. She was especially grateful to Jumin Han who had been theone to send in the security team that rescued them and saved Saeyoung.

Theyhad all seemed quite concerned for her as well. Yoosung had brought her flowerswhen he first met her, walking into her room unexpectedly. She had been shockedto learn that Rika was his cousin, and by the way he spoke about her, no onehad told him that she had been the “Savior”. She decided not to break it to himeither. He was so sweet and kind and caring. While she hated that he seemed toput her up on a pedestal, she was not going to be the one to knock her off forhim. She hoped he would never realize the truth, he was so happy to find thatshe was alive and not dead. Apparently, he believed that she had been heldcaptive by Mint Eye like Saeran and they had messed with her mind as well. MCwas silent as he talked about her, her hands clutched into fists, knowing thetruth. But how could she ever cause those innocent lavender eyes pain?

Saeyounghad brought the others to her room and introduced them as well. Zen flirtedwith her the entire time and she kept looking to Saeyoung to see if he wasjealous, but he only seemed amused, tossing her a wink. She took this to meanthat Zen was always a flirt with all women and therefore she did not take himseriously. Jaehee was attentive, asking all sorts of questions, offering tocall her parents and let them know where she was (which had never even crossedher mind, her family must have been worried sick at her disappearance), sheaccepted the offer and Jaehee flitted away to make the calls.

Juminhad been intimidating. He was tall, handsome, rich, and powerful. But he hadnot hesitated to send help when Saeyoung requested it. He also apologized fornot having acted fast enough and arriving before Mint Eye to the cabin. Shegave him her condolences when she found out that the blue haired man, V, hadbeen a childhood friend of his. Jumin looked away, but not before he saw thesorrow in his eyes. He was very good at hiding his emotions, but if you reallypaid attention to his eyes, they expressed so much.

She hadbeen overwhelmed by the attention the small group had given her. She’d neverreally had friends outside her family and small werecat society. They tended tokeep to themselves. Relationships with humans was not forbidden, but you formedthem at your own risk.

Shewas sure Saeyoung had kept her secret, she only worried about how she was goingto tell her parents that these twins knew she was a werecat. And one was sounstable, he might babble about it. In the end, she decided not to tell themthat Saeran knew. She made it seem as if she had been captured as a cat andkept in a cage, only to have Saeyoung save her. She asked him how he wanted herto introduce him to her family, he had decided on Saeyoung. In fact, he haddecided to throw away both his other identities and be only Saeyoung. Hisfriends seemed supportive of his decision.

Thedoorbell rang and she jumped off the sofa to answer it. She threw open the doorand there stood Saeyoung, the hoodie he had left her back home on his body. Hishair was windblown, his eyes sparkling amber behind his glasses. His eyebrowsfurrowed when he saw her at the door.

“Don’tyou even ask who’s at the door? What if I was a kidnapper? Or a rapist? Youhave to be more careful MC. I could put in a security system for you if youwant. That way you can see who’s at the door.” He pointed above her door, wherehe could attach a camera. She giggled and pulled him in.

He seemeda bit tense and nervous, but he allowed himself to be pulled.

“Uh,I can’t stay long. I just wanted to come by and see how you were doing. If youneeded anything? You look really good.” He ended, looking her up and down. She hadfinally filled out, her curves returning. She wore a mini skirt that fell toher mid-thigh and a t-shirt that hugged her body. Saeyoung licked his lips, hisheart racing. He tried to look away, he knew this had been a mistake. Hismating week started today and he needed to get home to lock himself in. Heclosed his eyes and shook his head, trying to clear his mind, but all he couldfocus on was her scent. He wanted to mate with her, he had known that for awhile now. But, he had not told her about himself. She stepped closer to himand he took a step back, hitting the wall behind him.

“Saeyoung?”his blood was rushing, shit, what was he going to do? He should have knownbetter! Her scent was too strong! It filled his nostrils, filled his mind,filled his cock! He placed his hands down to cover himself, but it only madeher eyes fall on his shame.

“I…Ineed to…I…can’t be here…” but he couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe.

He brokeout into a sweat, his body trembling, his desire rising. Tears sprang to hiseyes, afraid that he would lose control and hurt MC.

She tooka step back with a sudden realization.

“Whatare you?” she asked, her hand at her throat.

Hiseyes widened, his breathing harsh and rapid.

“I’veseen this before, you aren’t a werecat, it isn’t mating season for us. So, whatthen, are you?”

Heslid down the wall, this was not how he had intended to tell her. Between gaspsof breath, he looked at her, a mixture of desire and apology, and with greatdifficulty he hissed out, “Werewolf.”

Werewolf AU

#my posts #werewolf choi twins #werecat mc #saeyoung #mc #alternate meeting #this is getting to long?#but I like it #Anonymous

14 notes · View notes

brittnisfoodchallenge-blog · 6 years

Text

Reflection

My food challenge week has come and gone and unfortunately by the end of it, the story does not turn out to be a great one. The next morning after the last day of the challenge, I couldn’t even get out of bed and make it to the bathroom. It was crying, dry heaving, throwing up whatever I had tried to eat, pale skin, cold sweats, and terrible, terrible, terrible, body aches. My mom and I were starting to get worried. Almost two years ago I experienced a severe kidney infection which left me going to the hospital to treat it with IV therapy antibiotics for over a week. Nurses and medical students may know that a kidney infection has many symptoms that are similar to the flu which is what we first mistook it as. So I started into panic mode, I could not have another kidney infection, it was a nightmare the first time. I made a doctor’s appointment here in Sylvan and they got me in right away. I had my mother come with me just because of how rough of shape I was at the time. The doctor did some routine checks on me and concluded that I had the latest strain of influenza and there was no medication to treat it with. OH GREAT. He strongly recommended that I be out of school and work for the rest of the week because it would take 7-10 days for it to pass through my system. Man, did this ever throw a wrench in my school agenda. I was given a doctor’s note which I sent out to my teachers and stayed at home to rest hoping to get better fast. That was not the case. It took me until Halloween to recover fully. I had fallen very far behind in STAT 251 and the midterm was 5 days from then. Here’s to say that I spent all of my time trying to teach myself what I had missed and then failed my midterm. Luckily I was granted an opportunity to rewrite it and did much better. And now here we are and I am struggling to get caught back up in IntD 370, with the Country Analysis and Interview Assignment looming over all of my other commitments, it was been a very very busy month so far. So without further ado, here is my reflection of the challenge plus my two daily links I had missed.

*** UPDATE *** December 4th, 2017 - As I have been working on my final reflection submission and editing, my dog and best friend of 10 years, Zack, has suddenly passed away this morning due to health complications. I am in shambles and unfortunately this has happened at a very hard time of the school year. I would like to acknowledge Shireen Bell, my IntD 370 instructor, and thank her for the kindness she has showed me during this difficult time and allowing me to have an extension. I am very thankful and so is my family, it seems to be an impossible day for me and it will take time to be alright. Thank you Shireen.

A tribute to the best study buddy I ever had, RIP my boy, I am doing it for you<3

Day 6 Daily Link

https://www.hindawi.com/journals/ja/2014/160363/

This academic article from the Journal of Allergy by Clarke, A., Elliott, S. J., & Minaker, L. M. (2014) explores how financial barriers affect dietary needs of those with anaphylactic food allergies with a study based in Ontario. During the introduction, the article provides some results from other previous studies which I found to be quite interesting. For example, one of the studies found that there were barriers faced when seeking management for anaphylactic children in low-income families yet another study had found that the utilization of health care associated with the severity of an allergy did not change based on financial status. Granted, when I was inspired by my own allergy to do some research, my condition is very minor compared to an anaphylactic allergy, so already I am leaning so much that I have not even experienced. The study’s purpose was to interview low-income individuals who are affected by food allergies. Many of the testimonials from individuals and some mothers whose children have allergies say that it is hard to find brands of food that cater to the allergy that are inexpensive and that most times they go without an EpiPen or a medical drug plan because it is too costly. Even though there are outlets for assistance like the food bank or soup kitchens, it is fairly rare that specific dietary needs can be met when in need of food. This sounds like it can be a very risky game of life or death in which if someone doesn’t eat they will die or if they eat something they are allergic to the will die if not acquiring the proper health care and tools. It is crazy and sad to think about and may seem like it is hard to help but I think a simple step in helping could be when donating food to a food bank, make sure to include some allergy conscious food like gluten-free or nut-free items.

Day 7 Daily Link

http://theglobalfool.com/childhood-poverty-effects-on-the-immune-system/

I was not able to really look into this topic until I was back to full health so when I did some research I found that almost all articles associated with poverty and the immune system trace back to childhood poverty and the lifetime impact it has on those affected. This article from The Global Fool reports that childhood poverty and stress results in a continuous inflammation, chronic inflammation, which leads to degenerative diseases such as diabetes, cancer, and cardiovascular disease. When the body contracts a “flu bug” and immune system responds with heat, redness and swelling, known as the inflammatory response. The proposed model includes “social and physical pollutants that, together, enable childhood disadvantage to become embedded in the function of monocytes and macrophages, which represent two different maturation stages of the same cell type and play a major role in orchestrating the immune response.” Also known as “anthropogens”, lack of family structure and care mixed with a leu of violence in the neighbourhood not only contribute to childhood stress but also make these children more at risk for infectious germs and second hand smoke inhalation. The article goes on to say that a journal called Child Development Perspectives, observes that “these pollutants enable disadvantage to become embedded in the function of monocytes and macrophages – in other words, because exposure to pollutants occurs during a sensitive period of immunological development, these cells acquire a pro-inflammatory phenotype, and this phenotype persists across the lifespan.” With all of this into consideration, in my own experience, with all of these allergens and pollutants with a combination of lack of healthy food this makes a recipe for life long disaster. Personally, I have not been exposed to these specific anthropogens yet after 1 week of eating food with minimal nutrition and being exposed to school and work, my immune system had totally crashed and I had contracted influenza and let me tell you, it was not fun at all. It scares me to think that these children are facing these risks on a daily basis. They are not receiving the care and healthy food required to build a strong immune system, I cannot imagine the illness and flus and colds these kids endure. Like stated in the pervious Daily Link, many families living in poverty simply cannot afford the health insurance or proper food to provide for their families. Absolutely breaks by heart.

REFLECTION

RIGHT NOW!

This food challenge has been an emotional and [kind of] physical rollercoaster. Now reflecting on how I felt at the beginning to how I feel now, I can definitely say I was WAY too cocky about this challenge. I went into this week with a “hit me with your best shot” kind of attitude. I was known for not eating a lot or very often so I believed that I would have no problem with the challenge. I have to say, I have learned so much about not only myself and my health and diet, but also about global food security and that it has major impacts psychologically and physically. My research has opened up a part of the world and society that I knew little about. I have volunteered at the food bank when I was younger but I didn't have the understanding I do know after experiencing that way of life. I would have made better choice in my food on the grocery shop. I went for quantity over quality and substance and it really bit me in the butt. I had so much left over food which was just awful and wasn't going to eat when I could have bought some real healthy food and had enough to keep me full and balanced in my nutritional needs. What I was left with after the week was a quester of the juice, 3 packets of ramen noodles, more than half the bag of uncooked rice, half the bag of frozen veggies, half a loaf or bread, a marjory of the cheese slices, and left over mac and cheese in my fridge. That is a lot of uneaten food for a week. Maybe I could have done better and ate more food more often but honestly, I didn't want to eat any of it, I was really turned off from most of the food just because it tasted like a load of cheap crap. But this is some people’s lives, this is all that they have day in and day out and that is the part that impacts me. I get to go back to ordering pizza whenever I want or helping my mom make a nice steak dinner for our family or going out to nice restaurants with my boyfriend. And what really blows my mind is that most of the people who experience this food insecurity are supporting families with young children. I don’t considered myself wealthy, but I am rich with love and gratefulness that I am blessed with the privilege I have. This project has really drove me to want to help and make a difference in people’s lives which is why I believe so strongly that nursing is the right profession for me. I am walking away more educated and globally aware and that is the greatest reward from this challenge.

0 notes

fakwed · 7 years

Text

I just had a fight with my mom and I feel like she’s completely dismissing my feelings. Like, I’m really stressed out rn over homework, and have been since the first day that summer vacation started.

Every day I worry “I’m not going to be able to finish all this work” and it’s so stressful to constantly have that at the back of my mind all the time. Our fight started because I didn’t want to go to music class. I use to tell people it was a way to get relieve from my stress, but now it just feels like a burden and it’s even started to cause me more stress, so there’s that.

It also doesn’t help when any amount of homework causes me to stress and the work load for this summer is 3 chapters worth of reading for history, study guides and 2 other parts that go with it, my 3 section math homework with khan academy lessons, video lessons, and problems from a calc book, memorizing about 100 words for English and separate mini essays, my science homework, and my remedial online English course. So I feel <i>really</i> stressed out.

I have had less than 60 days to finish it all (i have about 2 weeks and a half left), and I’ve only finished my Spanish homework and a Spanish course to get ahead in my classes. So even with busting my ass for basically a whole month to finish Spanish stuff, my mom basically calls me lazy, “you already had a whole month to do your homework.”

Ok so now I’m going to write what pretty much happened: Before my mom gets home I text her “ma, can I stay home to do homework please” (note how I fuckin even said please, which I rarely say to others unless I really want something). When she gets home with my brother, I can obviously tell she didn’t read it because she still tells me to get ready to go to music class. I say “no I have to do my homework” which is what I was currently doing

She said “you had the whole day to do it”

I said “ i HAVE been doing it all day”

She said “good for you. Hurry up and get ready.”

Now I’m there like, ‘I can’t, I have homework. You’ve seen what i have to do, please let me do this.’ So I tell her, again, “I have to my homework.”

She says I can do it over there, or even on the way there. And I say “ I can’t concentrate there”

So I keep doing homework and my older brother says “you better not be missing out on music” And I’m just thinking in my head 'it’s not like I’m going to do anything with it,’ but I don’t say it out of fear. He stands up and is preparing to leave, but not without fucking trying to tickle me. Which I fuckin hate. I hate it when people touch me when I haven’t given any signal of “ok”. Even if it’s a hug or whatever. Don’t touch me unless I’m ok with it and you.

So I’m there very uncomfortable and already very upset and angry. The second time he tickles me I really wanted to just stab him with the pen I was holding. I was obviously not happy and angry but he kept on trying to tickle me. The third time I was fed up and brought the pen I was holding with my right hand next to my face and pretty much stabbed/poked him REALLY hard, but not hard enough for him to bleed because that would be god awful and I honestly don’t want that to happen.

But he goes ahead and says “god you stabbed me in the eye” but the tone in his voice wasn’t that of a pained person getting stabbed in the eye. And then he said, “just kidding. But you really almost did.” And he walks to the kitchen I think

*this is where things start to get abbot blurry

Mom comes back and something about me needing to get up to go. I stay put, continuing my work.

She insists, “hurry up. We need to go. You can do that over there.”

And that’s where I say that I can’t concentrate. Then she says I can do it on my way there during the car ride. I get upset but I don’t remember if I said I can’t concentrate there ether or if I stayed silent.

I go back to doing my work and I seal my lips. My mom says “hurry and get up.” I’m silent. She says it again, “get up or I’m going to take those from you.”

So I think, 'Really? You’re really going to take away my HOMEWORK???? FOR NOT WANTING TO GO TO MUSIC CLASS???? SO I CAN HAVE THE TIME TO DO MY WORK???’

So now I’m even more upset. How can she criticize me for trying to do my homework.

“Stop throwing a tantrum,” she says. I stay silence and continue my work.

She loses her patience and snatches my history homework and puts it on the bed. I internally laugh because I know I have enough papers to take out if she continues taking my papers. So I get my history chapter 1 study guide, but she takes that away too.

“I dot have time for you to be playing around!” She’s furious.

“IM NOT PLAYING AROUND,” I fuckin lose it. Never have I been playing around. Actually, I stopped messing around months, maybe even years ago. It just feels like too much.

She speaks again, “Don’t yell at me!”

I respond with something like, “YOURE THE ONE YELLING AT <b>M E </b>!!!!” So now we’re both furious, but I have years worth of stress and being looked down upon all pent up and boiling inside me. But instead of it fueling my anger, it just made me brake down crying. I felt totally useless, upset, angry, heartbroken, and very small. I hunched over onto the table and brought my arms up to cover my head, crying. I was whimpering.

She yells something like “you’ve had ((a certain amount of time of something)) to do your work, so I don’t wanna see you stressing on the last day because you didn’t do your work!!”

And I scream, “I HAD A LITERAL MONTH!!!!”

And she responds, “YEAH a 'little’ month!”

She misheard me, so I repeated, “A 'L I T E R A L’ MONTH!!” By now my words are starting to slur.

While we were fighting, I’d notice my brother on the bed silently listening, we were in he living room btw. God I felt so ashamed, but my anger pushed that aside and we’d continue arguing.

She says something about my phone being the reason I’m so stressed out or whatever (not sure if it was before or after I scream at her–what I’m about to type)

And I scream, “IVE BEEN STRESSES SINCE THE FIRST DAY!!!!” And I swear, I broke my own heart. The tears began their, what felt like a never-ending flow.

I don’t remember what she yelled back (probably about the phone being why I’m so stressed). But I remember her being fed up and told my little brother to get up because they’re leaving.

To somehow prove my point of how desperate I am to finish my homework, I lean over to the bed as quickly as I can and I grab them, noticing I crumpled up part of them once I retrieved them.

After they left, I couldn’t stop crying and I couldn’t contain the noises that slipped out. I was a mess. I was shaking, I couldn’t breathe properly, with sharp inhales and such, and I felt so broken.

I tried things that might help me calm down, like pacing, rubbing my legs, and breathing exercises. I went to the bathroom and blew my nose. I got a paper towel and got it wet with cold water and put it under my eyes.

Of course the first thing I do is try is to stop crying and look like nothing happened. Of course.

Ive been crying for over an hour, with tears being on and off.

I caught myself saying “I can’t be like this,” and quickly assured myself I shouldn’t say that, but instead, “it shouldn’t be like this. It’s not fair. I don’t deserve this. This shouldn’t happen.”

I tried to assure myself, but that just made me cry more, because I knew I had such a horrible self-esteem and that’s a whole other issue I brought in.

While crying, I thought “great. Know our relationship is ruined. When she comes back, I’m not going to talk to her.” Because that’s how I am. I ignore things I don’t like. I try to stay away from them. Now the only good relationship I have is with my little brother and I’m terrified i might mess it up. He doesn’t deserve this either. And the thing is, i used to take my frustration out on him, and recently I’ve noticed I’ve become more irritable with him. So now I’m scared of making him feel horrible too. I don’t want to hit him again, we’ve finically mended our relationship. I don’t want to break it again. Recently, I’ve noticed how lonely I am.

#very personal #still crying #so sad #sad #heartbroken #I feel so powerless #summer of 2017

0 notes

sometimesbuzz · 7 years

Text

Death be not strange.

So this is a thing I wrote for a media assignment on the horror genre.

Warnings: Horror, gore.

The human fear response fascinates me. The dilated pupils, the body shaking with anticipation, their brain trying to predict what I’ll do next and failing. Once a person is in my sights, they have no chance of survival.

First off, let me tell you the story of Jonathan Taylor, an average man, at best. I first met him when he ordered a flat white from the café I work at. Jonathan was tall, with a bit of fat round the middle, perfect for roasting. He paid more attention to his phone than his surroundings, making him an easy target. Jonathan, stupidly, decided to walk into the alleyway next to the café. And whilst he scrolled through Twitter, I beat him to death with a coffee pot. The one downside of killing people in broad daylight, is trying to get them back to my apartment without raising suspicion. But everybody has tricks up their sleeves, or just good biceps.

Once back at my apartment, Jonathan loses a lot more than just his clothes. Peeling the skin off a body is just as simple as peeling an orange. Except with blood instead of juice and more time consuming. Once skinned and useless appendages are given to my dog, it’s time for the cooking process. Most people like me prefer to eat humans raw, but I’m a sucker for a good long roast in a marinade. The thigh is, in my opinion, the tastiest part of the human body. Slow cooked for three hours and served with a glass of red, is the way to go. A full human body can last me about a week’s worth of meals, before more meat is needed. While I get my fix of human meat, my dog gets to chow down on bones. In all honesty, Jonathan was a disappointment. When I cut into him, I discovered that he had a shoulder replacement and no one wants to eat metal alloys. It’s like picking bones out of a fish dish. It makes the entire dining experience a bit of a hassle. It also increases the clean-up job, which is usually just disposing of clothes. So, Jonathan Taylor, an average man, at best, was an average meal too.

I haven’t been eating people for very long, but in my ten months of cannibalism, I have found that men are a significantly better feed than women. Breasts, although nice to look at, are just a big chunk of fat. No one wants their meals to arrive with a big lump of fat connected to the meat. Don’t even get me started on breasts implants. Large amounts of fat on food is awful, but trust me when I say, that a balloon of silicon turning up on your plate is worse.

I think it’s safe to say that I never intended to kill people and eat them to survive, but some lifestyles you just stumble into. When there is no food, and it looks like there won’t be food anytime soon, the insatiable hunger consumes you. And getting a meal is all a person can think about. The mere thought of food is enough to stop muscles aching. When you’re indescribably hungry, nothing will stop you getting your next meal. It’s an addiction, worse than any drug or adrenaline rush. I’ve gone a week without a meal and my body can’t handle it. You start to shake uncontrollably; my skin gets stretched tautly over my bones and starts to turn grey and ashy. Though the physical changes to my body are awful, the mental changes are worse. You lose all sense of reality, of humanity. You lose your moral codes. You will risk everything to get a single, fleeting bite of fresh warm flesh. Hannibal Lector got cannibalism wrong, there is nothing strangely beautiful about eating human flesh. You do it to survive. In life, everything comes down to an inherent desire to live. You do what you have to, even if it means killing people for food. Some may say that makes me a monster. They’d be right.

Contrary to popular belief, it is rarely a dark stormy night when I stalk or kill my prey. I like to see the sunlight reflect off their bodies whilst I open them. I want to see every wrinkle, every indent, every stretchmark that my dinner has. Human flesh is beautiful, but what’s underneath is truly exquisite. I learnt more about the human body’s muscles, tendons and inner working by dissecting them, than going to biology class. Speaking of biology class, that is where I happened upon my next meal. Most people despise group assignments at university, and I don’t blame them, but I have found them to be a good source of food. Because, let’s be honest, who doesn’t want to kill someone after completing a group assignment? For the record, I try to kill the person who does the least amount of work. Geoff never turned up to meetings and my group was half convinced he didn’t actually exist. We were shocked when he walked into the classroom for the presentation, I decided that he was my next meal.

Do you ever get the feeling that someone is watching you, following you? Geoff certainty did. There is something enjoyable about playing with your food before eating it. I relish making my meat paranoid, making them fear the unknown, making them scared of turning around, just in case I’m there. Geoff was already paranoid, possibly due to the large amounts of marijuana I later found in his house. I observed as he looked out into the street before going inside and locking the door. Such a shame that locks can’t keep me out. I scaled the side of his house, and sat on the roof. I could hear cartoons blaring from the TV, the smell of Cheetos wafted up to me, within the haze of marijuana stench. Despite the loud cartoons and awful stink, the sound of his heart beating and the smell of his skin draws me in. I shimmy off the roof and kick open a window on the top floor. Geoff is so high at this point that he doesn’t notice. I make my way down the stairs towards my next meal. He does not notice when I enter the room. Eventually he sees my reflection in the TV, after mumbling something about me not being real he runs out of his house. Geoff is surprisingly quick, for a guy high on drugs. But even the fast humans are no match for my speed and strength. Unlike in horror films, he doesn’t trip over. Instead he runs straight into a traffic light pole, in doing this, he was kind enough to knock himself unconscious. Allowing me to easily pick him up and run him to my own apartment, without being seen by the general public.

It’s strange how peaceful a person can look when they are knocked unconscious. All the muscles in the face relax and you instantly look younger. It looks like they don’t have a care in the world and in that moment, they don’t. When you wake up, that’s when you start to worry. It takes time for people to register the fact that they are in danger. Geoff, in his concussed and still slightly high state took even longer than most. I find that it is best to prolong death, to ensure that the meat is fresh, a process that I’m sure Geoff will not enjoy. I prefer to remove each limb, one at a time. Then, attempt to keep the human alive through a series of sedatives and IV drips. Large amounts of screaming can cause neighbours to call the cops and explaining a partially dead person on the couch is not easy. Next, I strip the skin off the meat, which is a surprisingly lengthy process. Then I cut any fat off the meat, unless it will help with the cooking. Then I’ll let the leg, usually, to sit in a marinade whilst I deal with other parts of the body. When it comes to a human body, every part can be used for something. Liver, intestines, brains anything can be cooked up and eaten, if you know a good recipe and have a good storage system. Storage of all this meat is extremely important. A big freezer, whilst expensive, is crucial to keeping things from going off. When I first starting eating humans I didn’t take enough care with keeping my meats frozen and let me tell you that food poisoning is not pleasant and can be particularly violent.

While Geoff’s leg is marinating, I start to shake, not a good sign. It has been too long since my last feed. I look in a mirror and see my skin turn translucent and grey. My hair is practically ejected from my scalp and my skin is pulled tight against my skull and bones. My vision blurs and adjusts making the lights in my house hurt my eyes. I shut them tightly and fumble to find the light switch. After failing to turn off the painfully bright lights, I throw a punch to where the light switch should be. The lights go out and I remove my hand from the hole I made. I hear a whimpering coming from the corner and turn to see my dog shaking about as much as I am. The scent of human flesh enters my nostrils and consumes my thoughts. I race over to the couch, pushing furniture out of my way, to get to where Geoff is lying unconscious. I rip open his ribcage with ease and stuff as much muscle, meat, lungs, whatever I can get my hands on in my mouth. I inhale as much of Geoff’s body as I can, eating every last bit of skin, bone, intestine. My only thought is about getting the human flesh inside me. When Geoff’s body has been devoured, I am still not satisfied. I bolt into the kitchen and tear the freezer door off its hinges. Luckily there are a few left-over pieces of someone, that I was going to feed to the dog. I scoff them down and exceedingly slowly the curse starts to back off. My skin grows plump and warm, my hair grows back and my eyes are now attempting to adjust to the darkness of my apartment. I get up off my kitchen floor and look for a torch. I eventually find my phone and use it to survey the damage. My couch is torn is half, there is the hole in the wall, my freezer door just lying on the ground and Geoff’s blood covering a decent proportion of the apartment.

It was foolish of me to go too long without a meal, I could have revealed the curse’s existence. As far as humans are concerned vampires and werewolves are fiction. I thought they were for a long time, but then I was trapped. Trapped in an elevator of all places, for six days. Humans can only survive three days without food and water. After the other people in the elevator died, I ate them to keep myself alive. In doing so, I was cursed and discovered that every nightmarish creature that you can read about is real. They live among us, silently to protect themselves. Quietly feeding off the humans that are forgotten, the homeless and the runaways.

When a human consumes another human’s flesh they become cursed, cursed by the Wendigo. If we don’t keep feeding on human flesh then we become uncontrollable monsters. But other than that, it’s a manageable condition.

#Horror #Gore

0 notes