i was just about to go to sleep and i went to put my bottle of acetaminophen back and for some reason the lid just came right off even though i closed it all the way and the acetaminophen bottle flew through the air and all the pills spilled out and flew all over my room and apparently just one acetaminophen pill can kill a cat and usually the first symptom of acetaminophen poisoning in cats is death and idk what to do bc i dont think its possible to find every single acetaminophen pill in my whole room and my cats are very attracted to small little items and pieces of stuff and my cat will play with and eat little objects like that im so scared
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“What is it?” Hero asked, hand not moving to take what Villain held out. “A poison capsule?”
Villain rolled their eyes. “No, dumbass. It’s Tylenol. I’m tired of hearing you complain about your head hurting.”
“...I need water to swallow it.”
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cw: suicide, abuse, self-harm
when i was seven or eight i remember holding knives out to keep my father or mother away from me. eventually they would just come take it so i held them to myself. my throat, my stomach, my eyes. then one day, my father took the knife from me anyway and when I struggled he ended up stabbing me in the shoulder from behind. hospital, stitches, etc. its blurry but it still makes my right shoulder blade hurt to this day. i know once even earlier i did this and slashed myself under the chin. it was thanksgiving and his friends all kept quiet about it too.
i started shutting down then. he would hurt me, i would go numb, then later i would hurt myself. i used paperclips or mechanical pencils or thumb tacks. shoved them into my thighs or arms. i wished i could die but i was afraid. i still am.
in middle school i remember taking bottles of tylenol all at once more than once. my mom never took me to the hospital and i never felt anything more than mildly nauseous. i still wonder if ill pay for that down the line but apparently my liver is fine.
in high school i managed to stop for a while. i threw myself into band as a way to keep my mind busy. it worked for a while, but as pressure weighed down and my mom got more openly cruel and i noticed how different i was from my peers i had my worst breakdowns. i tried hanging myself three times? i think. i woke up once with the blanket-noose i stupidly thought would work still wrapped around my neck and a chunk out of the wall above my door where i thought some drywall would hold my weight. i was stupid then. im fucking stupid now.
i tried in college several times. or got close at least. stood on the whitney center roof and looked down. drank myself stupid and took immodium to try and poison myself. tried to buy percs from my roommate after he bought them from my girlfriend.
how long do i need to do this before i just tip over? how long do i need to keep trying to deal. how many doctors. transition helped a little, but it moreso just gave me a plethora more reasons why my fundamental brokenness has ruined my life already.
my father raped me. my mother destroyed me. its a wonder ive lasted as long as i have. isn't that enough? isn't that enough? cant you love me enough to let me rest, finally? cant i just have peace. i cant function. im not normal. im in pieces.
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Part 2...less scary pictures this time lol
March 31. A couple days on 40 mg of prednisone, as well as antibiotics (which they prescribed a sulfa drug and I’ve never taken sulfa drugs, so I was like...hope I’m not allergic to that too!). Blisters were gone at this point and started to peel/scab. Luckily, the rashes that weren’t on my arms never blistered but were still really itchy.
April 2. The night before I hadn’t slept at all because my arms were on fire all night. I’d finished my first round of steroids the morning of April 1. I was in tears on the phone in the morning trying to get a dermatologist appointment booked. Went back to the CareNow and got a steroid shot and more oral steroids at a higher dose. Was able to book a dermatologist appointment for a couple days later. I made it through the weekend with Tylenol, steroids, ice packs and lots of time just sitting/sleeping with my arms propped up on pillows.
Today, April 25. After 3 weeks of prednisone (took my last dose this morning). The spot on my wrist is still giving me trouble. It’s from my watch. I’ve only worn it two times since all this. I soaked it in dish water and cleaned it but I still don’t think I’ve gotten all the oil off. I’m going to have to buy a new strap.
All the other rashes are gone but my skin is still a little discolored and feels a bit drier than places that didn’t have a rash.
My mom and I took a look in the backyard yesterday and the poison ivy is even more widespread than we thought. We’ve had warm weather and rain quite a bit the last couple weeks and it’s flourished. We’re trying to figure out the best way to get rid of it since there’s so much.
oo right now ‘m watching “The Great Molasses Flood”!! and favorite episode?? that’s so hard!! 🤧 but maybe D.B. Cooper, or the Poisoned Tylenol Murders?
and omg for puppet history, my favorite ep. would probably be the titanic one, or the video about the dancing plague!
what’re yours?? :O and omg wait are you the boogara to my shaniac?- 😩
ooo i haven’t watched that one yet! and pfft the d.b cooper one is so funny i always come back to that one 😭 NSNSWJ I LIKE THE TITANIC ONE TOO !!
hmm my fav episode would probably be the watcher or the van gogh one ! and for the puppet historyyyy i’d say the policarpa one :P and yesss i’m the boogara to your shaniac miss ma’am 😩 let go hunt some ghosts together rn
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Characters/Themes: Tony & Peter (Irondad), Steve Rogers, Clint Barton, Nick Fury
Words: ~1600 and counting
A/N: Originally made for Day 11 of Webpril (a little late, whoops), I have also published this into a separate fic. If you'd like to stay up to date with how this pans out for chapter 2-3, you'll find that on my AO3 or FFN on the 'Standalone Fic' links below :) x
~Read it on AO3 | Webpril | Standalone Fic
~Read it on FFN | Webpril | Standalone Fic
Peter had never thought he’d be afraid of plants. Alright, maybe poison ivy and rhubarb, but not vines of all things. He also never thought he’d see the day when plants came to life...well okay, plants were already alive, but sentient was a whole other can of worms that Peter wished was never opened.
“Remind me to add a herbicide feature to the suits next time,” Tony chimed in over the comms. Peter couldn’t see his whereabouts, a cloud of smoke barring his view. It seemed like no matter how many explosives or sheer blunt force they sunk into these things, they were getting nowhere.
“New York is struggling with the trees as is, Tony, I don’t think we need you nuking the last patch of grass in Central Park,” Clint fired back.
“Look, can we talk about saving the forests later? I could use some more hands on deck here.” Steve was about a block and a half away from the rest of the team, having appointed himself to ‘perimeter’ duty but had soon been confronted with a writhing mass of vines that sprouted from the ground like heads sprouted from a Hydra.
Steve’s request was met by an enthusiastic “coming!” from Peter, who promptly proceeded to assume the role of a modern George of the Jungle, but instead the jungle was made of concrete, and the vines were...well the vines were vines.
Peter locked on to the small speck of blue weaving in between a forest of green, and proceeded to deploy the four mechanical arms that erupted from the back of the Iron Spider. Each arm seemed to operate on Karen’s schedule, but Peter couldn’t complain; the AI had faster reactions than Peter ever would, and if he thought about that too much it scared him.
As each metal appendage slashed and carved its way through the thick stems, thick sap oozed out like blood, but as soon as the incisions appeared, they were gone, replaced by cell membranes that were multiplying way too fast.
“Uh, guys? This isn’t working…”
“You’re telling me,” Clint grumbled, feeling more useless than ever. It didn’t matter if his arrows were covered in acid, produced flames, or were laced with electricity - the outcome was still the same. As soon as Clint came to that realisation, he had perched himself on the balcony of a nearby highrise, not wanting to risk being caught amongst the chaos. There was many a time he wished he weren’t as human. Moreso, he wished he weren’t as fragile.
“Hold on, I’ve got this.” Tony rounded the corner of the sidestreet nearest to Peter and moments later as the suit brushed past Steve, a long thin pike that exploded out from a Tylenol sized capsule dug into the ground right next to one of the vines besides Peter.
Within less than a second, Peter felt a shudder beneath the ground, followed by a geyser of dirt. The vine writhed for a moment before falling limp with a heavy thud. It suddenly looked so much smaller, no longer resembling a gigantic green tube man from outside the local car dealership.
“Well that wasn’t so bad.”
Peter groaned internally, not needing his Spidey Sense to tell him that those would be Tony’s famous last words.
The vine began convulsing, and Peter was reminded of the nurses from Silent Hill. For a moment he wished they were; then he wouldn’t have to deal with something at least half the size of his apartment building.
Rising once more to its full stature, half a dozen smaller vines broke out from the soil beneath it. Now it really resembled a Hydra.
Tony registered simultaneously the resurrection-including-birth and his position that put him at the epicentre of it all. Firing all repulsors at maximum capacity, he took off aiming vaguely for Hawkeye’s vantage point on the balcony.
That would’ve been the plan.
One of the smaller vines had snaked its way around the suit’s foot, up the ankle, and began to relentlessly squeeze. Sparks were beginning to fly out of Tony’s right foot repulsor before sputtering and going dark, and in that brief window where full-flight momentum had been compromised, the vine arched back.
Peter watched with mild panic as Tony whipped into the ground with the vine still stubbornly attached. He knew the suit could handle a lot, but what he never knew - and he was fairly sure Tony didn’t really know either - was if the suit was going to be able to come back to the workshop in one piece, preferably with Tony in one piece in it. And speaking of the workshop, after the dust cleared Peter’s heart sunk as he took in the scuffs and the scattered uneven plates that normally fit together like a puzzle. Of course, with all of their recent calls to action over the last few days and most of the other suits undergoing major upgrades and testing during an almost two month long quiet period - which turns out was a major oversight - the only suitable suit candidate was already semi out of commission.
Tony’s communications stuttered back online, jarred momentarily by the impact, and a low groan filtered over the comms.
“Tony, you alright?” Steve was almost 300-feet away, jumping back in after spending an frustratingly inordinate amount of time trying to pull an answer out of S.H.I.E.L.D who had sent a few airborne vehicles to try and scan and triangulate.
“Just. Peachy.” Each word was punctuated by a forceful attempt to remove the vine’s grip from the suit. Tony didn’t want to admit it out loud, but the strength at which it was constricting was starting to hurt. A lot. He really didn’t want to think about how much pressure the baby vine had to be exerting for him to feel it beneath the suit. He was suddenly a lot more alarmed about the larger vines.
S.H.I.E.L.D used that moment to broadcast, Nick Fury’s voice filtering over the present team’s radios. “I see we might have a bit of a weed problem. I would’ve thought gardening was a bit below the Avengers’ paygrade.”
“Just tell us how to get rid of these things, they’re giving me the creeps.” Clint broke his silence, his time surveying the convulsing vines of chaos in Central Park not bringing him any answers.
Fury was all business now. “This thing’s set up camp over by the boat house to your north. Scans picked up a large form that looks like a bulb about 32-feet below the surface. Find it, kill it, and we can all go home.”
“Roger that,” Steve replied, shifting his shield to sit more securely. “Tony, are you rea -”
“I’m gonna need a bit. As kinky as being tied up would be in any other situation…” Tony never quite finished his thought, turning off his radio as the vine constricted once more and he gritted his teeth against the crushing pressure. More of the baby vines had seemed to smell the nearby prey and had turned their attention to his figure lying supine on the ground.
Peter winced, hearing the (almost) disguised strain in Tony’s voice. The parent vine didn’t seem to care about his mentor anymore, and if it had eyes, Peter was sure they’d be twinkling in a lazy kind of sadistic pleasure. It had minions to do its dirty work now.
“Alright Queens, you and I have got this.” Steve looked at Peter and nodded. Clint had one arrow left and that method of attack had so far proven incredibly useless. Except…
Peter swung his way up to the balcony Clint was occupying near the East Green section of Central Park. “Hey, can I have your last boom arrow? Maybe it’ll work, but I’ve got a plan.”
Clint raised an eyebrow, loathe to give over his last projectile and cementing how inessential he had begun to feel. Pressing his lips together, he reached behind him and pulled out his last arrow. “Just press this bit in the middle of the arrowhead, okay? After that you’ve got about five seconds before you need to get the hell out.”
“Cool, got it. Arrowhead, five seconds, run. Thanks!” And as soon as Peter had appeared, he had started his commute back towards Steve.
Tony was lying incredibly still. He discovered that if he barely twitched a muscle - which these abominations could somehow tell beneath a layer of armour - the rate at which the squeezing increased slowed down.
“Today would be great.” Tony turned his head towards Steve, who had just shifted his attention to Peter who had arrived with an arrow in hand. Steve at once understood the plan.
“Hold tight, Tony.” Steve’s voice dripped with an authority that Tony found profoundly irritating but Peter found comforting.
“Not going anywhere, Cap.”
Steve took off at a sprint next to Peter, who was using the surrounding trees and lamp posts as targets for his webs. The closer they got to the epicentre of it all, the more concentrated the vines were. What started as sporadically placed vegetation now looked more like a dense jungle.
Peter landed softly on the grass as Steve slowed to a jog. Looking up, they were confronted with a writhing mass that looked more like a Kraken than it did a plant.
As they deliberated their next course of action, Peter’s blood ran cold as over the radio he heard Tony’s agonised scream.
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Tylenol is a brand of drugs advertised for reducing pain, reducing fever, and relieving the symptoms of allergies, cold, cough, headache, and influenza. The brand name is owned by McNeil consumer healthcare, a subsidiary of Johnson & Johnson. The year is 1982; seven people in Chicago died after taking Tylenol due to an unknown suspect lacing the capsules with cyanide after the products reached the shelves. The Chicago Tylenol Murders were a series of poisoning deaths resulting from drug tampering in the Chicago metropolitan area in 1982. The victims had all taken Tylenol-branded acetaminophen capsules that had been laced with potassium cyanide. In the immediate aftermath, Tylenol's commanding 37% market share dropped to just 7% nationwide, despite the problem being contained to the Chicago area. There are a lot of disparities about how the victims are not being compensated well and that the incident has taken place due to the sheer carelessness of the company. The Tylenol tampering incident still causes fear in some people which is stopping people from taking Tylenol as their first choice of medication.
Task at Hand:
Johnson and Johnson have appointed your team to come up with strategies to remove the fear in the minds of the people about the Tylenol products. You are to present your strategies to the board members of Johnson and Johnson.
Three Times Eddie Kaspbrak Was Ready To End His Own Life (Plus One Time He Was Glad It Hadn’t)
The decision had been a point on the map for so many years, it was a little startling he had finally arrived at it.
Richie Tozier/Eddie Kaspbrak
Suicidal ideation | Suicide Attempts | Depression | Gore
Also available on AO3
College turned out not to be the life-changing experience promised to Eddie by hundreds of books and movies throughout his childhood and teens. At least, this was where he assumed his notions had come from.
Formative years were fuzzy in the way they always were upon growing up. Misty around the edges and far away, traded for the present.
Reminiscing wasn’t this precious thing it seemed to be for everyone else. Unlike other students' stories of family bike rides and picnics, high school parties and first times, all Eddie had were endless, sickly days alone in the suffocation of his mother’s shadow.
Not that it was going to matter soon. Not if Eddie went through with it.
Suicidal ideation wasn’t anything new, but it had never been so close, boxes of Tylenol stacked up in a neat little row on the bed.
Eddie was roommate-less again for his Junior year (this bunker, Simon, had lasted a little longer than Eddie’s first two, but not by much.) It was understandable. Eddie knew he was a nightmare to live with. Unlikeable and uptight. Despite popular opinion telling otherwise, he was self-aware of his flaws.
At least it gave him the freedom to rock and puff through the night without fear of disturbing anyone’s sleeping patterns, no end in sight, leaving little crescent moons in his arms that would bloom purple and red.
If all that was waiting for him was a life of miserable, anxiety-ridden solitude, he might as well do it eternally.
As he removed the blister packs from their cardboard sleeves, Eddie wondered how long it would take for him to be found. Two days? Three? Maybe even four. He lived in a hall full of self-absorbed fuckwits, after all. The stink of death would be ignored, unrecognised until it was unavoidable, creeping out into the hallway, seeping into the carpets and walls.
The thought of himself, locked up and bloated, rotting where his soul had escaped his body, it sent a shiver through him.
Destined to dissolve into everything he feared the most: a soupy pool of dysentery. A place for flies to lay their eggs. Fused against cheap sheets, basked in his own shit and vomit. How much of himself would peel away when they lifted him up? he wondered.
He swallowed the nausea of the image. It wouldn’t matter. Not Eddie’s problem. Whoever’s job it was to get him in the body bag would have no doubt seen worse.
It soothed Eddie popping out the chalky, white pills. Like he was a squirrel hoarding nuts for the winter, his little pile of poison expanding before him. He hadn’t even realised how hard he was breathing until it hit his ears, wheezy and short.
Eddie paused the job to use his inhaler, the spray of albuterol calming his lungs but not his heart. He gave a squeaky laugh. It was almost comical, after all, how easily Eddie had gathered what he needed.
Stores might limit their sales of over-the-counter painkillers to two per customer, but what had that mattered when he had five shops at his disposal in the university’s town alone. He supposed it would have been easier to just pry the blade from his shaver, but Eddie was too much of a coward to go through with slicing an artery.
He kept going, tossing the empty packs as he finished with them.
It wasn’t going to be pretty at first, but Eddie was holding out for the delirium winning over so it wouldn’t matter. That his slip from that into unconsciousness would be quick and painless.
Maybe he was being naive, but he supposed he’d find out soon enough.
Ma would just have to get over it.
The pile was high by the time he was finished. Eddie tossed the rest of the blister packs, so many pills he couldn’t fit them in both hands, the dusty little ovals spilling out from between his fingers. They dusted his hands white as he let him spill back down.
Eddie licked a pad. Bitter.
Settling under the covers, he dragged the pile over to him, his inhaler remaining gripped tight in his left hand. He sniffled, bottom lip wobbling at how truly pathetic this was. Here lies Edward Kaspbrak, twenty-one, resting place a shitty NYU dorm bunk.
But sobbing just delayed the inevitable, and God knows Eddie was tired of crying. He brought the first mouthful to his lips, could barely see what he was doing through fresh tears.
That was when the door went. “Hey, Kaspbrak, you in there?”
Eddie flinched so violently the pills scattered everywhere. Down his front, over the sheets, onto the floor. “Fuck!” he hissed.
The knocking grew impatient. “Kasprak! You got a call!”
“Jesus fuck, I’m coming!” snapped back Eddie, gasping, roughly fisting his eyes. “Give me a fucking second, bro!”
When he got there to tear open the door, it was Ryan from next door. Ryan, who played Rastafarian music at 3AM and always stunk of pot. Eddie hated his guts, and he had an inkling it was mutual.
If he could tell Eddie had been crying, he didn’t let on.
“Well?” said Eddie. “Who is it?”
Ryan rolled his eyes. “I dunno, man, they just asked for you—”
Eddie didn’t let him finish, already stomping away toward their floor’s pay phone.
He found the receiver upturned and waiting for him by the time he got there, snatching it up and bringing it to his ear. “Hello? This is Edward Kaspbrak.”
“Hello, Mr Kaspbrak, this is Portland General Hospital,” said a steady, professional voice. “I’m afraid I’m calling you today about your mother…”
All Eddie could do was hope Marty forgave him.
If he managed to pull this off, she wouldn’t even have to see him, and even if she did manage to get the door down before the police did, the scene would be as non-graphic as possible, just enough to let her know the job had long since been done.
A sleeping bag in the bathtub made for easy cleanup. A pillowcase over the head for discretion and minimum splatter. The revolver would make for a painless exit and, hopefully, would alert one of the neighbours to contact the authorities.
He had toyed with the idea of calling them himself, leaving the phone off the hook, but Eddie disliked being rushed in any capacity, and this was no different. There wasn’t a lot he had control over these days, but he was determined for his death to be one of them.
That morning he had feigned all the motions. Gotten showered and shaved. Gelled his expensive haircut and tightened the silk tie Myra had gotten him for his birthday. Sat at their african mahogany table whilst she’d served him breakfast and poured his coffee. Guatemalan roast with a drop of almond milk.
(They were on a keto kick currently, but Eddie had found the donuts and pretzels Marty was hiding behind the pots and pans, not that he’d ever comment on it.)
Coat on, Myra pressed his lunch into one hand, his briefcase into another, her perfume wafting thick up his nostrils as she pressed the hot squish of her lips to his cheek. She told him to drive safe and Eddie told her to tell his sister-in-law hello . There were no regrets as he left.
Cellphone tucked away into its final resting place, the glove box, Eddie drove mindless laps around their block. Once certain Myra had left for downtown for brunch with her sister, he turned back around.
Although he left his work documents in the car, he returned with his thermos and tupperware with him as he buzzed back into the building, rode the elevator for the last time. He strained the soup, separating the vegetables into the compost and the broth down the sink. Tossed the lettuce wrap into the compost, too. Washed all the containers out with castile soap and hot water to save Marty the hassle. She’d have enough on her plate.
Eddie decided against changing out of his suit. The more formal he kept this, the better.
The decision had been a point on the map for so many years, it was a little startling he had finally arrived at it.
Most days Eddie was numb to how much further his life had gone than he had ever expected it to. A wife. A mortgage. A six figure position that came with a pristine, glass office and a company car. Neat little checkboxes he’d ticked off one-by-one, the only sense of purpose he had in the monotony.
Maybe a few second thoughts were whispering by then, but everything would have been meticulously planned for nothing if he fell at the last hurdle.
There was an opening at the company he had recommended Sarah for—Eddie’s secretary— so she wouldn’t be out of a job. There was a plethora in his and Myra’s joint savings account to cover the last two payments of their mortgage, and then the apartment would become hers outright, to sell, or stay in, or rent out. Eddie had several healthy investments in the stock market that he had put in an order to be cashed out in the next three days. That would be more than enough to cover the costs of his funeral, and that was only a fallback in case his life insurance denied the payout due to the suicide clause.
Best case scenario Myra got both. Either way she’d be taken care of, and there was no way her parents would see her starve, no matter how testy things were on her side of the family.
He needed to just do it.
If he didn’t seize this moment of bravery now, it would slip through his fingers, and Eddie would rather not attend Barbara and Paul’s dinner party next Thursday.
He retrieved the revolver from the false bottom of their shoe closet, fetching the sleeping bag from their bedroom. Into the ensuite, Eddie set the gun on the sink so he could unfurl the bedroom in the tub and lock the door. He cursed when he realised he’d forgotten the pillow case, stalking back out into their bedroom to remove it from their bed. Already, he sweated like a pig.
Into the bathtub he went, his polished work shoes making it harder to get into the sleep sack than he’d anticipated.
The gun laid forgotten on the sink. Eddie cursed again, louder, forced to hop out awkwardly to rescue it.
Back into the tub in a heap, on the pillow case went, into his mouth the gun arrived.
His heart thumped at the click of steel against his teeth, his wheeze dampening the cold metal with condensation. The pillow case was more constricting than Eddie had considered, almost suffocating.
Images of the lifeless corpse he was about to become bubbled to the surface like they always did when he got this close, a different flavour of the same ultimatum. He saw the golf ball shaped hole in the back of his skull, the chunks of grey matter on the freshly scrubbed tiles, the crimson blood pouring out every orifice of his face.
There was that slim possibility he was going to survive this, end up rotting in a hospital bed for a grave, a fate worse than death, unwashed and forgotten at the back of some ICU ward, bed sores oozing with pus—
For the first time in years, Eddie wept openly. A boy again.
His hands shook so hard he couldn’t find the trigger. Could barely even hold the gun, jaw aching in protest at being pried so wide. He hyperventilated, desperate for it to just be over.
Do it. Just do it, Kaspbrak. There was nothing for him here. He couldn’t live like this anymore. He couldn’t live. Couldn’t. Wouldn’t. Fuck, he couldn’t breathe. He needed his inhaler. He needed— No . What he needed was to pull the fucking trigger.
With a strangled roar, Eddie found it, numb with terror as he finally ended it.
He tried again, and again. Flinched with each one to no avail.
Arm too weak to hold the firearm any longer, the barrel of the gun slipped out of his mouth, to his lap. A string of something wet hit the back of Eddie’s hand, sweat or drool, he wasn’t sure.
Relief had never tasted so dreadful, whiplashed as he tore off the pillow case, drenched and panting.
Wild, dark eyes looked for the problem. Numb fingers fumbled. The safety appeared off. What was the problem? His thumb popped open the cylinder. Six chambers stared back. Five empty. The sixth filled with a bullet that lined up with the barrel. He must have knocked it out of place somehow.
Afraid to lose further momentum, Eddie snapped the gun back together.
The bang deafened as it fired, ricocheting off ceramic and careening into the sink cabinet. The mirror’s glass exploded, woodwork splintered, and Eddie jolted violently.
Far away, a woman screamed.
“Hey, fuck face!” Richie’s cry echoed backwards through the passage and Eddie automatically cowered, glued in place.
“You wanna play Truth or Dare?” he said, just out of sight, brash and angry in a way that could only be directed at one person. One thing . “Here’s a truth: you’re a sloppy bitch! Yeah, that’s right! Let’s dance! Yippee-ki-yay, mother—”
A thrumming hum boomed, a rush of kinetic wind hitting Eddie so violently it unsteadied his feet, almost losing the fence spike in his grip; his new, makeshift comfort blanket in the absence of his inhaler. Pathetic.
“Richie,” he breathed, and scrambled towards the blinding light.
He’d failed him once before, he wasn’t going to do it again. His shoulders squared with the sentiments Richie had given him, unconditional and tender, unlike anything Eddie had known for decades.
Braver than you think.
Much like they had when he was a child, Richie’s words rung weighty and true. If Richie said he was, then he was. Eddie was brave. And as that thirteen-year-old boy Eddie had once so cherished had once said—he was gonna have to kill this fucking clown.
And under the screeching, white light of the devil, it became no longer a question of will it , but it will as Eddie wrapped both hands around that mangy, rusty piece of scrap that killed monsters if he believed it did.
His own life didn’t come into the equation. It never had. Years gone by and Eddie had remained a tattered, gnarled scrap of tissue paper trapped in the whirlwind of Myra’s decisions, his mother’s before that. Eddie prepared to lose everything. He wasn’t a Bill, or a Bev, or a Ben, or a Richie. Hadn’t built anything from the ground up. No one relied on him the way they did them. He wasn’t a Mike. Hadn’t dedicated his entire life to helping others, in preparation for this day. This was what he was good for. This was what he was meant to do.
Time to put his carefully maintained decelerators to good use. Forgotten memories of track and field emerged like trapped bubbles under ice, and Eddie channeled a javelin throw so fierce it would have won state-wide championships. Eat your heart out, Ma, came to mind. He would have been unstoppable if she hadn’t dragged him and his memories away to Portland.
“Beep beep, motherfucker!”
Instead of batting the spike aside like the insignificant thing it was, IT howled and vomited acid fire upon impact, releasing its prey from its clutches. Richie fell hard. Splatted against the slimy limestone like in the Wile E. Coyote and the Road Runner re-runs they used to watch together when they were small. Their tiny, knobbly knees touching. Snacking on grapes and sugar cookies Maggie would set out for them. Only this time the impact wasn’t so funny.
“Holy shit,” stammered Eddie, watched like they all did as IT collapsed backwards in a heap, pierced by humongous stalagmites that tore open IT’s chest, heaving lava like phlegm, before IT deflated.
Eddie ran to Richie’s side, the ice of his blood warm once again when he seemed about okay as he could be. Disoriented, but breathing. Just like Eddie.
He’d never been more empowered. Eddie might have been willing to give up his life, but it hadn’t been like all the others—those pathetic attempts at abandoning something not worth living. This had felt victory. Like he’d jumped in front of a gun, took the bullet, and survived.
He roused Richie awake. He wanted to share his epiphany with the only one who mattered. The only one who had ever mattered. He’d killed IT. They were safe. IT was dead, and they were alive.
Because Eddie was alive. Truly and wholly alive for the first time. He never wanted to stop feeling like this. Bereaved, at long last, of this curse, this caricature, this charade of Edward Kaspbrak that had slogged on-and-on, no end in sight.
This was it’s end. He wanted to be Eds again. He wanted to make a home inside Richie’s arms. He wanted a divorce. He wanted to live.
Richie’s eyes lolled one last time before they finally focused. Eddie grinned so madly he tasted copper from the slash in his cheek, adrenaline taking care of the pain. His mouth ran ahead of his mind. There were a thousand things he wanted to say and he stumbled over all of them. Lost in the feedback loop of what he’d just accomplished.
“I think I killed it for real—!”
Eddie saw it before he felt it. Heard the blood curdle of Beverly’s shriek before he registered that the hideous, hooked claw through his middle had bursted guts—his guts—all over Richie, painting his open mouth.
Wetness rose up his throat like a broken faucet, and Eddie choked on it, his blood viscous and hot where it spilled down his chin. He struggled to touch Richie’s face, to call his name, but his nerve endings didn’t cooperate.
Dragged up like some hooked, squealing pig for slaughter, Eddie lost consciousness.
When he came back to, he was suspended high above. He saw everything; everyone. He heard IT’s gleeful guffaws. A hunger for survival he’d never known kicked in, and he struggled for footing that didn’t exist.
No! It’s not fair! I want to live! I need to live! I need—!
Swung from side-to-side, Eddie blacked out for a second time.
Re-awoken, the world tumbled all around him. Elbows and knees took the brunt of the fall damage, not coherent enough to make an attempt at slowing or cushioning his rolls. His head took a nasty thwack during the process, and again, he lost time.
When he could process again, many arms were helping him up into sitting. Numbed from the neck down, Eddie couldn’t even feel the cold, damp rock they propped him up against.
Different mouths were moving, and he knew the losers were all making noise, talking to one another, but his brain couldn’t process the meaning.
He understood Richie was panicking, at the very least. He had spotted it immeadteily behind the glint of his glasses as he’d torn that dumb leather jacket off his shoulders, the one Eddie had wanted nothing more than to bury his nose in the moment he’d seen him in it. His chin slumped down to where it had been draped across him by his big, paw hand. Eddie was frightened of what laid beneath it.
He’d tried to be brave.
Finding Mike’s face in the crowd, Eddie tried to tell them about the Leper at the pharmacy. About taking back IT’s power. About how he made it small.
Then, Stanley came into view. “Eddie, stop talking. Why are you all just standing around?! Richie, compress the wound before—!” was the last thing Eddie heard, just before the darkness consumed him completely.
Some days were more difficult than others, but Eddie wouldn’t say they were bad ones.
Even in the beginning of the end, when everything had been at their most chaotic and stressful, the light shone bright from the end of the tunnel.
Waking up to Myra, stood over him like a watchful hawk, the first words out of his mouth had been that he wanted a divorce, before she’d even pressed the button for assistance.
Even when the doctors broke the news he’d never be the same again, where most would have been knocked down into helplessness, Eddie’s hunger for freedom was insatiable. His friends had saved him, granted him this second chance, and he wasn’t going to waste it.
He refused to return to the slog of a job he hated, a cold living room of creams and whites and an even colder wife who smothered, and smothered, and smothered until Eddie popped pretty red-and-blue pills just to get through the day. The worst of them had ended on Brooklyn Bridge, staring out across the inky water and lying to Myra he was still at the office. Working late. Always working late.
He doesn’t work late anymore.
Now, late nights are reserved for eating out at restaurants Mr and Mrs Kaspbrak had always vehemently avoided, be it thai, indian, italian or seafood. For movie nights, snuggled up on the sofa in a way Eddie had always poked fun at, sharing sticky caramel popcorn and open-mouthed kisses. Those kisses on his body getting him hot-and-bothered. The heavy weight of a body Eddie wanted close once they were sated, better than the best weighted blanket money could buy.
Eddie used to hate Myra’s body touching his, needed his own space, but now he can’t imagine sleeping without the press of his lover’s caress.
The sea breeze floats loftily over Eddie’s face as that very lover rolls him down the a quieted strip of boardwalk, the broad slats sending a rumble through Eddie’s wheelchair, into legs that don’t feel it.
Los Angeles skies bathed pink and orange, he’s parked beside a bench with the clearest view.
A hand rests on his shoulder. “This okay, Eds?”
Eddie smiles at the horizon. He has been softened by the year they have spent together, and affirms that it’s perfect.
“Tell me if it gets too cold,” says Richie. “You can have my jacket.”
“Stop fussing and sit down,” replies Eddie snippily, because although his prickles may be duller than they once were, he still has them.
“Sir, yes, sir!” Private Tozier makes a brief appearance, but is gone again by the time Richie eases onto the bench, sighing in the way he does when his knees are giving him pushback.
Not that he ever complains about it—Richie’s aches and pains, like all his problems, take a little prying to discover, and Eddie sees through the lens of adulthood he’s always been this way. Endlessly vocal about everything that wasn’t him. The real him. His Richie.
Eddie’s happy to see him.
At first Eddie had hated that the chair meant he had to crane his neck just to catch a half- glimpse of his face, obscured by a thick-cut jaw and the under-rim of his glasses, but now he kind-of likes it. Makes seeing his face unobstructed all the more special.
When he smiles, crow-eyes and warm embers, Eddie’s rusty parts ache, still re-learning what to do with all this happiness he’s never had. He reaches for Richie’s hand, who turns Eddie’s palm face side up and laces together their fingers, gives his knuckle a melodramatic kiss.
Eddie understands now. He’d never been alive before, merely existing, aimless, just like Richie had been; drifting out of VIP lounges, into strangers’ beds, onto stages where he’d dance like a monkey for likes of people who would have bullied them in high school.
He’d once confided in Eddie, curled up with his cheek pressed against Eddie’s stomach, that he’d had so many masks he hadn’t even known which one was him anymore.
A hollowed shell of a person, just like they’d all been.
He thinks of telling Richie his thoughts, but then changes his mind. He doesn’t want to blemish the beautiful expression on his face, a flower unfurling under the sun. They have the rest of their lifetime to reminisce on such things. To laugh, and cry, and fight, and make up, and make love, and plan, and build, and live.
Eddie smiles back.
Tomorrow has never sounded so sweet.
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Sooooooo I’m awake. It’s 1:22am. I slept for about 18 hours following a solid night of vomiting from food poisoning and let me tell you, i should have listened to the universe yesterday when we ordered delivery and my little sandwich just didnt arrive. I should not have ordered something else from some other place instead. I should have just said ‘I am not meant to eat today’ i should just not have.
Anyway its been long enough now the pain has stopped. The nausea is gone. there is an odd sweetness on my tongue. My stomach has only plain white rice and water and its been hours since that but i can taste the calm emptiness now. I had to take some Tylenol for the coffee headache. No matter how often i get betrayed by my insides (which when you have a chronic autoimmune digestive disease and a pre cancerous condition which they say is unrelated but feels all connected in a holistic sort of way, is very often) i am still left in awe when the pain finally stops. I am still reminded again, how much i take the moments without pain for granted. It was a different flavor of pain this time. But pain is pain when youre stuck inside of it.
I wish everyone who lives with chronic pain a peaceful evening every once in a while. I hope you are well tonight.
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covid has killed my apetite
And I push from my lungs
an ache and a burden
I scrape dough from my skin
drop it into compost
less to bake, less to eat.
I cough first
and groan second
I knead ahead
and bake after
I fill myself on tea and tylenol
and watch as my liver poisons
muddy river clogged
wet dough and bits of lung.
lymphocites littering the shores.
Sick and thin
This is Not a Bit
Fun Fact: food tampering is actually a felony, so it’s probably not a good idea to pretend your food has been tampered with to go viral on the internet. They’ve taken tampering pretty seriously since those Tylenol poisonings in the 80s.
Leatin prompt: (i got this from supercorp prompts)
Fatin pretending to be sick to get leah to take care of her.
She gets sick one day and loved how leah took care of her. So little by little, every once in a while she "gets sick" again.
This was such a cute prompt! I would never have thought of something like this. Thank you for sending it in!
(Also on AO3) Almost 4k words of Fatin being/acting sick, Leah taking care of her, and cuddles under the cut
Fatin couldn’t remember the last time she was sick, excluding the time on the island they had all gotten food poisoning. She had had a couple of hangovers since returning to civilization, but it was never something some advil, water, pancakes, and turkey bacon couldn’t fix. So, when she got sick for the first time in over two years, it was a bit of a shock.
She woke up one Saturday morning in mid-June to sunlight streaming in through her window. Both her body and her brain felt like it had been in a stampede, she was both too hot and too cold beneath her single bedsheet, and she could barely breathe through her nose.
Fatin groaned and tried to bury her head deeper into her pillow to block out the sunlight. Maybe if she tried to fall back asleep, she would wake in the afternoon and feel better. A few agonizingly slow moments passed before Fatin realized she wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep, no matter how tired she was. She really wanted to close the blinds (Leah was too much of an early riser, but Fatin could always sleep through the sunlight until now), but her body ached too much to move.
She felt absolutely awful. Sure, getting food poisoning had probably been one of the worst physical experiences of her life, but all she had to do was vomit up the muscles she had eaten and she had begun to start feeling better. Fatin didn’t think it would be that easy this time. Her muscles ached like she had done some sort of full-body exercise routine the day before, which she never did. Her brain hurt all over, but especially behind her cheeks and forehead. She had to breathe through her mouth, so she felt disgusted by that. Her throat was sore and, of course, she didn’t keep any water on her bedside table. To top it all off, she was sweaty and cold, but was only wearing a t-shirt and shorts beneath her singular bedsheet. It was summer in L.A. after all.
Fatin grabbed her phone from her side table and opened her text conversation with Leah. She was probably one of the only ones still home and was Fatin’s first choice out of the girls to ask for help (Dorothy was a very close second). She typed out a message, but hesitated before hitting send. I need you the text read. She deleted it. Instead, she sent I’m sick :((((.
No reply. Then, a few seconds later, Fatin heard footsteps on the stairs, the creak of a hall cabinet being opened, and someone rummaging around in the plastic bins that contained miscellaneous items that couldn’t be kept elsewhere in their house. The rummaging stopped, the cabinet door was closed, and the door to Fatin’s room was opened. Leah held an assortment of items in her hands. She crossed the room to Fatin’s bed and set everything down on the side table.
“Okay, I have a thermometer, Advil, Tylenol, cough drops, VapoRub, and tissues,” Leah listed off as she counted each item on her fingers. “I wasn’t sure what you needed, so I brought it all.”
Fatin was caught off-guard and could only stare up at Leah from where she lied on her bed. Not hearing a response, Leah looked down at Fatin.
“What? You said you were sick,” Leah said it as if it explained everything.
“Yeah, I just didn’t expect… I don’t know.” The raspiness of her own voice surprised her, as well as the pain in her throat as she spoke. Fatin swallowed, but winced as it only made the soreness of her throat worse. Leah’s eyebrows pulled together in concern and she gingerly sat on the edge of Fatin’s bed.
“You texted me that you were sick and didn’t expect me to take care of you?” It wasn’t asked sarcastically. Fatin could only nod.
She didn’t know what she expected, if she was honest. The last few times she remembered ever being sick, she was in charge of taking care of herself and making sure she was still practicing cello. She wasn’t entirely sure why she had texted Leah. Maybe to let her know that if she came into their shared room, she might expose herself if Fatin was contagious. But she had reached out to Leah for help, so why was she so surprised when Leah did what she had wanted her to do?
“Fatin, we’re friends, of course I’m going to take care of you when you’re sick.” Leah said it so caringly, Fatin glossed over the way her heart hurt at the word friends. Leah was staring at her as if she expected a response, so Fatin nodded her head. Leah smiled and turned to inspect the items she had brought into the room.
“I’m going to take your temperature,” she said as she grabbed the thermometer. Fatin wasn’t sure why Leah was verbalizing what she was going to do, if anyone else tried to do that, Fatin was sure she would feel like she was being treated like a child. But, Leah’s voice was soothing and Fatin only felt comforted.
The thermometer was placed under her tongue and it was a bit uncomfortable, but Leah was watching her with a soft look in her eyes, so Fatin held back her gut reaction to complain. Leah wasn’t actually that close, she was sitting next to Fatin, her hips barely touching Fatin’s side, and she wasn’t leaning in, but Fatin felt like she couldn’t breathe (but, maybe it was just because her mouth was closed and she couldn’t breathe through her nose). The thermometer beeped and Leah pulled it out to check it, the movement felt way too intimate. Leah read the display and frowned.
“You’ve got a fever of a hundred and one.” She placed the thermometer back on the side table and picked up the two bottles of painkillers, inspecting the backs of the labels.
“I can’t ever remember which of these is for a fever and Dot’s on a hike with Rachel this morning so she won’t get back to any texts for a while,” Leah mumbled to herself as she read the labels. Fatin just stared up at her furrowed brows, at the way she pulled her lip between her teeth in concentration.
In the end, after looking it up online, Leah gave her some Tylenol and set up her bedside table so everything she might need was within reach. There was a glass of water, cough drops, tissues, a package of crackers (the thought of food made Fatin nauseous, but Leah said she was going to need to eat something), and her laptop if she felt like watching a movie. The curtains were drawn and Leah had gotten Fatin more blankets to bundle up, even though she ended up tossing them off after five minutes only to crawl back under them again (it was an annoying process, but Fatin’s body couldn’t decide if it was too cold or too hot).
“You should probably get some sleep,” Leah said once everything was all set up in their room. She moved to stand, but Fatin’s hand shot out to wrap around her wrist before she could think about it. Leah stilled, looked down at Fatin, and sat back down.
Fatin wanted to say don’t leave me because she felt awful and just having Leah around her made it more bearable, but she hated sounding needy. She also doubted she would be able to fall asleep with having to adjust her blankets every few minutes and the headache that had yet to start going away. She knew she had to say something because Leah was expecting her to, she hadn’t grabbed her arm for no reason. But, she didn’t say anything. Leah must have seen something in her face (Fatin wasn’t trying to convey anything through her expression) because she smiled and placed a hand over the one on her wrist.
“I’m gonna be right back, okay?” Leah’s hand was still on hers, but she made no movement to remove it from her wrist. Fatin nodded and removed her hand, instantly missing the contact.
Leah left their room and Fatin tried not to stare at the open door Leah just walked through because it made her feel like a puppy who got separation anxiety any time their owner so much as shut the bathroom door for five minutes. She felt a little pathetic because Leah didn’t return in a minute or even two and Fatin was totally checking the time on her phone every ten seconds.
Leah finally returned three whole minutes later and the second Fatin saw her, she knew exactly why it had taken her so long. She was dragging a three-foot-tall indoor air conditioner to their room. Fatin didn’t doubt it was too big to carry and very awkward to move. Leah pulled it over to the foot of Fatin’s bed and plugged it into the closest open outlet. A faint humming filled the room and Fatin could already feel cool air making its way over to her.
“Is that...” Fatin croaked out. She didn’t know why she bothered speaking, her throat didn’t seem to want her to.
“Rachel’s personal air conditioner? Yes, yes it is.” Leah stood beside it, her hands on her hips, and grinned triumphantly at it. It had cost Rachel over three hundred dollars (thank you settlement money) and she bought it because she missed how cold it would get back in New York. Fatin was sure Rachel was going to kill Leah for touching it, but Leah didn’t seem to care.
Leah shut the door to their room and the temperature quickly began to drop. Fatin pulled the many covers over her and sighed in relief when she remained at a comfortable temperature for longer than five minutes. She actually felt like she could fall asleep… almost. The bed dipped and the corner of her blankets were being lifted. Fatin opened her eyes to see Leah trying to crawl under the covers beside her.
“Scoot over,” Leah said simply. Fatin did as asked.
Leah had come prepared. She had grabbed some pillows from her bed across the room, which she stacked behind her so she was propped up comfortably against the headboard, and Fatin saw a book sitting on her bedside table. Once Leah was settled, she extended an arm out, an invitation. Fatin curled against Leah’s side and felt the arm wrap around her shoulders. Fatin’s head was tucked against Leah’s chest, her arm slung around her waist. Her body finally seemed to relax.
Minutes passed. The only sounds Fatin heard were the humming of the air conditioner, the occasional turning of pages, and Leah’s steady heartbeat beneath her head. At some point, the Tylenol had kicked in and her headache lessened.
She woke hours later, still wrapped around Leah, feeling only marginally better than when she woke that morning. Leah brought her soup (Fatin didn’t know if it was because she was sick, but it was the best soup she had ever tasted) and they watched a few movies on her laptop. Fatin fell asleep in the evening much like she had that morning, wrapped around Leah. She woke the next day still tangled in her arms, feeling like she could take on the world.
It was late July, not two months later, when Fatin woke with a minor headache. She knew, realistically, that she should have just taken a couple of painkillers, drank a lot of water, and gone about her day completely normally. But, for some reason, all she wanted to do was text Leah and lay in bed with her all day. It was still summer, they didn’t have anything to do, so what was the harm in doing nothing all day?
She texted Leah my head hurts :/ and a few seconds later Leah was up in their room asking if she felt alright. Fatin, wanting nothing more than for Leah to hold her and take care of her again, over exaggerated her symptoms. She called it a “splitting headache” that made her “want to curl up into a ball and die” and maybe she was being a bit too dramatic, but Leah brought her some Advil and water and crawled under the covers with her. They laid around in bed all day, Fatin napping while Leah read, and later that night, Leah brought Fatin that delicious soup again. Fatin slept soundly that night with Leah’s arms around her.
The next time it happened, it was a complete lie.
Leah had only been back to school for a week and Fatin already missed her, even though they saw each other every night, as they shared a room. Fatin was taking purely online courses, so she was at home whenever she didn’t feel like going out. Leah was taking all in-person classes and spent Monday through Friday, from nine in the morning to five at night, on campus. Fatin wasn’t sure how she was going to survive an entire semester of it.
It was Saturday, the first day Leah would be staying home since she started college. Fatin wasn’t sure what compelled her to fabricate an illness, but the second she saw Leah in the kitchen that morning (Fatin slept in on the weekends, so she never saw Leah in the mornings until she rolled out of bed for coffee), she decided she wanted Leah’s undivided attention that day. She created some story of not feeling well, but trying to go about her day since she was sick twice already, but by the time she got downstairs she realized how nauseous she really felt. It was all bullshit, but Leah seemed to believe it.
Instead of going back upstairs to their room, Leah led Fatin over to the couch. She then proceeded to bring pillows and blankets from their beds to the couch and set Fatin up in the living room. She got Fatin to eat some toast and drink some water (Fatin found it difficult to pretend to be nauseous since she craved coffee and something more filling than plain toast for breakfast, but she went along with it). They cuddled on the couch and watched Netflix on the TV.
Dot came down from her room around one in the afternoon and Fatin suddenly wondered why the house had been so quiet. She heard Dot pour herself coffee and begin to rifle through the kitchen cabinets. She hoped she didn’t ask what they were doing and she hoped Leah didn’t tell her she was sick. Fatin knew Dot would see right through her lies instantly. Thankfully, Leah excused herself to use the bathroom and it gave Fatin a couple of minutes to figure out a way to keep Dot from outing her to Leah.
Once Leah was up the stairs, Fatin dashed over to the kitchen counter. She only had a couple minutes to get Dot on board with her lie before she had to be back on the couch for Leah to return.
“Dorothy, I need you to do me a solid,” she didn’t speak at full volume, for fear her voice would carry all the way to the upstairs bathroom. Dot paused in her search and stood across the counter from Fatin, meeting her eyes.
“What did you do?” Fatin wanted to be annoyed that Dot already thought she did something wrong, but technically Fatin did do something wrong, so this one time Dot’s suspicions were correct.
“I may have lied to Leah about feeling sick, so please don’t say anything to her about it.”
Dot just stared at her in confusion. Fatin felt like they were wasting time, Leah could have come back down at any moment.
“Why would you lie about that?” Fatin sighed, she really didn’t want to have to explain herself.
“It’s not your business. Just, please help me out?” She put her palms together in a begging motion and pouted.
“Fine, but you better make it up to me,” Dot said with raised eyebrows and a finger pointed at Fatin, warning her to make a promise. Fatin traced an X over her chest, to signify she “crossed her heart” to keep that promise.
Leah would return at any second, but Fatin couldn’t help but ask, “so where is everyone?”
“Out. Don’t know where,” Dot said with a shrug and continued to rifle through the cabinets, pulling out various pans and utensils to make herself lunch, presumably.
Having an answer to the question that had been bothering her since Dot had come downstairs, Fatin turned to go back to the couch. As she turned, Leah came down the stairs at that exact moment. Fatin stilled as their eyes met. She hoped Leah didn’t find anything about this suspicious because Fatin certainly felt suspicious. It was totally normal for her to get up and walk around, even if she was “super nauseous” as she had described it before. She tried to control her features, to not give away that she was internally freaking out over having possibly been caught in her lie.
“So…” Fatin did not like the tone she heard in Leah’s voice. “I take it you aren’t actually sick?”
Leah was cool. Fatin couldn’t tell if she was upset that she had lied to her. The sounds in the kitchen came to a sudden stop and Fatin knew Dot had heard what Leah had said.
“I’m… um… gonna go out back for a smoke,” Dot excused herself from the room. Fatin and Leah never looked away from each other, but Leah quirked an eyebrow.
“No. I’m not sick,” Fatin said once she heard the sliding door close, knowing she and Leah were alone. She really wished she could read further into Leah’s expression, all she could see was surprise.
“Why lie?” Leah was so calm. Fatin’s heart was beating erratically.
“Because I…” Fatin frowned. She didn’t know how to explain it. Leah finally walked away from the stairs and into the living room. She kept walking and took a seat on the couch, then motioned for Fatin to join her. Fatin moved to sit on the couch and there was a foot of space between them and Fatin felt awkward.
“Because,” Fatin took a breath. “Back in June, when I was actually sick, I really liked being taken care of and being cuddled and today I kind of just… wanted that again.”
Fatin wasn’t lookin at Leah, she couldn’t look at her when she told her why she had lied. It was too embarrassing to admit to her face. Leah shifted closer. They sat side by side and Fatin finally looked up. Leah was smiling softly at her and Fatin wondered why she had ever been embarrassed in the first place.
“You don’t have to pretend to be sick to get cuddles, Fatin. You just have to ask.” Blue eyes, so filled with warmth, stared at her and Fatin didn’t want to ever look away.
“Can we cuddle?” Fatin asked hesitantly. Leah’s smile widened and she opened her arms.
“Of course,” she said, but Fatin was already tucking into her.
They laid on the couch, feet propped up on the coffee table, for a few silent moments. Fatin’s head rested on Leah’s shoulder, her arm around her waist, with Leah’s arm around her shoulders, just like they usually found themselves in Fatin’s bed.
“Why me?” Leah asked so quietly, Fatin could barely hear it with one ear pressed to her shoulder. She pulled back to look at Leah, to hear her more clearly.
“Why me? Why not have Dot take care of you? You know she would do it in a heartbeat and you two are, like, best friends.” Fatin swore Leah looked nervous. But why?
“Because you make the best soup?” Fatin wasn’t sure she could say why she chose Leah over Dot. She wasn’t sure if Leah would ever want to cuddle her again if she told her.
“Fatin, you know I just order the soup to be delivered.” Fatin did know that. Leah had always brought the soup up to their room in a paper bag with the restaurant's name on it.
Fatin swallowed. They were suddenly too close. Their faces were only inches apart. Fatin didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t say. Bright blue eyes stared at her, asked her for the truth. Her gaze flicked to Leah’s lips. It was accidental. But, she looked back up and Leah’s eyebrows rose.
Fatin’s breath caught in her throat. She had been found out. Apologies rose to mind, ways to change their sleeping arrangements so Leah didn’t have to share a room with her, promises that she could stay just friends. Fatin didn’t get to voice any of it. Leah was leaning forward and Fatin’s brain shut off as she realized what was happening.
The kiss was so gentle, Fatin wasn’t entirely sure she wasn’t just dreaming it. Hands came up to cup her face and pull her closer and Fatin knew it was real. She parted her lips, deepened the kiss.
“Shit! Sorry!” Fatin and Leah broke apart to see Dot in the kitchen, a hand covering her eyes. Leah laughed and Fatin wanted to throw something at Dot for ruining the moment. She turned to leave, saying “carry on!”
Fatin didn’t waste time, leaning forward to press a kiss against Leah’s jaw. Leah sucked in a breath and her hands moved to the back of Fatin’s head.
“You know the rule, no fucking in communal living areas!” Dot called from upstairs. Fatin groaned and rested her forehead on Leah’s shoulder. Leah just laughed and Fatin found it difficult to stay annoyed.
“It's a good thing we already share a room, then.” Fatin perked up at Leah’s words. She lifted her head to see a mischievous look in Leah’s eyes.
“Dot’s going to hate having a room next to ours,” Fatin said with a smirk. Leah laughed loudly as Fatin led her to their room.
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Summary: Four times Hailey said I love you.
Here is #1, #2
Jay was sick. So sick, he did the unimaginable – he called out from work.
Hailey should've known when he declined to come over the previous night that something was really wrong. He hadn't been himself all day, but Hailey didn't think it would come to this. The only other time he called out was years ago when he had food poisoning. But even then, he was responsive and relatively okay, unlike this time around. He took hours to answer her messages, and all of his responses were one-word replies. So, after work, she decided to go check on him, despite him insisting he was fine.
She keyed into the building and climbed the stairs. She knocked on his apartment door, and when he didn't answer she keyed inside.
"Jay?" she called then heard muffled shuffling coming from his bedroom followed by whispered expletives. His bedroom door cracked open to reveal a bleary-eyed and disheveled Jay squinting at her in confusion.
"Hey," he said, voice hoarse and so deep it sounded like James Earl Jones on steroids. "Thought I told you to stay away." He shivered, breaking into a fit of coughing. "I would advise you not to come near me, but I know you're just going to ignore that too."
"You are actually sick. Truly sick," she said, taking in his tousled hair and sweaty face. Hailey had to admit it made him look cute. "You poor thing."
He coughed loudly again, this time causing a horrible rattle to echo in his chest. "It's just a cold," he croaked, leaning heavily against the wall now. "I'll be okay."
Hailey placed a gentle hand against his forehead, feeling the heat before her hand touched his brow. He was burning up, and the dark circles under his eyes made it look like he hadn't slept all last night.
"You're not okay. You have a fever. Have you taken anything?"
"Yeah…This morning, maybe?" he answers, then coughs. "I think I just need sleep."
He took a few steps and stumbled a little, but Hailey was right there to support him. He was only wearing a thin T-shirt and cotton boxers, and even though he was clammy and hot to the touch, he was still shivering.
"C'mon," she said and guided him to sit on the couch. "Sit for a minute." She grabbed a throw from the couch and draped it over his shoulders. He pulled the corners around himself and slowly plopped down, closing his eyes. Hailey could hear his teeth chattering.
She looked around, thinking what she should do.
"Hmmmm?" He seemed barely conscious.
"How about a shower, huh? It will make you feel better." She placed a hand on his forehead again. "Maybe even lower your temperature a bit."
He opened his eyes and looked at her, staring for a moment before whispering. "Hailey, you don't have to do this. I don't want to get you sick." His voice sounded so husky it made her heart feel tight in her chest. Poor guy.
"I know, but I want to be here." She smiled and held out her hands to pull him to his feet. He swayed for a few seconds before wrapping his arm around her shoulders, placing a kiss on her hair. He shivered against her as they slowly walked into the en-suite bathroom. She sat him down on the closed toilet before turning on the shower and adjusting the temperature. She turned back to Jay and he looked miserable. Hunched over his knees, breathing heavily, still gripping the blanket around himself.
"C'mon." She kissed his hair, running a comforting hand up-and-down his back. "Let's take your shirt off."
She slowly peeled the blanket from him and dropped it on the floor before tugging his T-shirt over his head. His chest and shoulder were flushed, and when she pressed her hand against him, he was burning hot, his skin prickling with goosebumps as she coaxed him into standing.
She helped him out of his boxes, all the while rubbing his upper arms to keep him warm.
"Do you think you can manage from here? If you get dizzy or even slightly lightheaded call me, okay? I will be in the kitchen warming you some soup."
Jay nodded, and she touched his cheek before closing the door behind her.
Hailey heard the shower running and busied herself in the kitchen. She knew the likelihood of her contracting whatever he had was high, but she couldn't find it in her to leave him, especially since he looked so miserable. Something about seeing her seemly invincible boyfriend all helpless and vulnerable tugged at her heartstrings.
Eventually, Hailey headed back into Jay's room, knocking on the bathroom door before stepping inside.
"Hey, you okay in here?"
There were a pause and a wet cough. "Yeah. What I'm coughing up looks like something out of a horror movie, but the steam is loosening up in my chest a bit." He is losing his voice, she guessed, but it was to be expected after the amount of coughing he was doing.
She pulled the curtain open a smidge, and peeked her head in. Jay stood under the forced water, not moving, with his hands and forearms straining while leaning against the tiled wall. She let her eyes roam his naked back, and her attraction to him, even when he's a walking petri dish of mucus-producing bacteria was beyond comprehensible. It made her want to forget all about his germs and hop in the shower with him.
"Want to get out?" she asked, pinching his butt.
He turned and smiled. "What, my pleurisy cough and mucus-y condition turning you on?"
Hailey rolled her eyes, but she was yet to find a situation where she was not turned on by Jay. "The soup is ready."
"I will be out soon," he said. "Give me a minute."
Hailey returned to his bedroom and looked at his bed, the sheets were twisted and crumpled, and kind of damp. She stripped the entire bed and replaced it with clean sheets. Finally, the bathroom door opened, and Jay walked out, a towel around his waist, his hair wet, and looking much better.
Hailey stood in front of him and touched his forehead. "You feel a bit cooler."
Jay stared at her and Hailey smiled gently, running her hand over his chest. "Bed?" she asked, tilting her head in the direction of the bed.
He frowned. "Hailey, I'm flattered, but I'm sick. Maybe tomorrow?"
Hailey laughed, glad to see his sense of humor returning. "Hilarious. But seriously, get in. You're shivering."
"That's because it's cold."
"It's really not."
Jay rolled his eyes but followed her instructions. He pulled on a pair of boxers and crawled into bed, drawing the covers up to his chin. "I'm going to close my eyes for a minute. All that standing up kind of took it out of me,"
“Don’t sleep, yet. I need to get food and drugs in your system."
Jay nodded, but his eyes were already closed. Hailey went to the kitchen and returned with a tray holding a bowl of warm soup, a glass of orange juice, cough medicine, and Tylenol.
But Jay was fast asleep.
"Hey, wake up."
Jay groaned and turned over. She put the tray down and gently touched his shoulder. "Jay, c'mon. Your favorite drug pusher is here. You have to wake up."
His head lolled to the side, but he didn't stir.
"Oh, would you look at that, I spilled soup on my shirt and now I have to remove all my clothes…"
Jay jolted awake and looked at Hailey before plopping back on the pillows and sighing. "That was mean and unnecessary," he said, before clearing his throat and rubbing his eyes.
"You need to sit up," she said, grabbing two Tylenol and the juice. "Take these. Then eat your soup."
Jay did as he was told.
Fifteen minutes later, he was finished with most of his soup, taken the cough medicine, and drunk all his orange juice. Hailey took the tray away and noticed his eyelids were drooping. She pulled the covers over him and asked, "How are you feeling?"
"Sloshy," he answered before yawning. "And kind of stoned. What's in that cough medicine?"
"Something that will help you sleep."
"Oh, so like a sedative."
"Something like that."
“It's working," he yawned. "So, you're going to take advantage of me?"
"Yes, but only when you sleep."
He flashed her a lopsided grin, and it was just wrong how handsome he was. Before she could leave, he grabbed her hand with his too-warm fingers and said, "Stay," while brushing his thumb across the back of her hand.
In his current state, she couldn't deny him anything. Hailey nodded and climbed on the bed. She sat up, opened her arms, and softly pulled his head to rest against her chest. Since her lips were already poised to do so, she kissed his neck. In response, he groaned softly.
"You're so good to me," he mumbled, snuggling closer. "Why you're so good to me?" His words were slurred, the effects of the medicine taking affect.
"Because I love you," she said, running her hand through his damp hair.
Jay looked up and blinked long and slow. "You know I love you, too, right?"
"I know," she said, gently caressing his cheek. "Rest now. I will be right here."
Eventually, his head slumped, and his breathing grew deep and even.
She shook her head and smiled at herself. She was definitely going to be sick with whatever Jay had. But love makes you do crazy things, right? And one thing is certain, Hailey loves Jay.
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Sharp Stinging Pain in Toes – Relief, Causes and Symptoms
Prevent sharp pain in your toes from cripplig you, or interfering with your mobility and wellbeing. Knowing what’s behind the pain in your toes and how to treat it will help you get back to your normal activities.
yourfootpalace.com gathered information on what causes sharp stinging pain in your toes, how to alleviate the pain, when you should seek medical attention, and accompanying symptoms that may be life-threatening.
Sharp Pain in Toes
Abnormal sensations, including tingling, numbness, discomfort, and sharp pain can occur in your toes when peripheral nerves are impacted or damaged. This condition can result from:
Physical trauma resulting in nerve damage
Diabetes (especially if left uncontrolled)
Circulation irregularities limiting blood flow to the feet
Autoimmune diseases (lupus, rheumatoid arthritis, Guillain-Barre syndrome, etc.)
Trauma (vehicle accidents, sports injuries, falls, etc.)
Vitamin deficiencies (B vitamins, vitamin E, and niacin)
Some prescription medications (especially ones used in cancer treatment)
Age-related wear and tear
Tumors (malignant or benign can develop on or press against nerves)
Exposure to extreme heat
Exposure to poisonous substances (heavy metals and industrial chemicals)
Poorly fitting shoes (too loose or too tight)
When peripheral nerves are affected, it may lead to a condition called peripheral neuropathy. The following are many of the signs and symptoms of this condition:
Pain during movements and activities that should not cause pain
Sharp, jabbing, burning, or throbbing pain
Loss or reduction of touch sensation (feels as if you are wearing gloves or socks when you aren’t)
The onset of a numbing or tingling sensation in the hands or feet that can spread upward in the legs and arms
Hypersensitivity to touch
Severe reduction of coordination and loss of sure-footedness
Watch this video for a brief explanation of peripheral neuropathy.
Peripheral nerves can be classified into three types:
Sensory (sensations like temperature, pain, and touch)
Autonomic (controls internal functions like the heart rate and digestion)
Motor (muscle movement)
Note: When peripheral neuropathy affects motor nerves, it can cause paralysis.
Toe Pain Relief
Assess what is happening with your feet before attempting a remedy. If you feel that you have sustained an injury or that your pain is too severe to manage on your own, contact your primary care physician for direction. The following will help you relieve the pain in your toes:
Apply Ice – If your skin feels warm (indicates that your foot is likely inflamed and possibly swollen), apply ice or soak your feet in an ice bath. Avoid warmth on inflamed areas; it increases the blood flow and may exacerbate the inflammation.
Apply Heat – If your skin is normal or cool to the touch, soak your feet in a warm bath. This should relax and soothe them.
Watch this video for more information about applying ice or heat to your feet.
Tip: Pharmacies and many large grocery stores sell gel packs that can be heated or frozen, then applied to your feet.
Foot Massage – Book an appointment with your masseur, explaining your condition. If you want to give yourself a foot massage, follow these steps:
Sit on your bed or in a comfortable chair. Bend your left leg inward to rest your left foot on your right thigh.
Pour your preferred lotion or oil into your hand. Vigorously rub the lotion or oil between your hands to warm it up, and then rub it gently over your whole foot, massaging your toes, arch, and heel.
Use your hands to gently pull your toes back and forth or apart. This stretches the muscles, tendons, and ligaments underneath.
Repeat the same steps on your other foot.
Tip: You can achieve a deeper massage by pressing your right knuckles into your left foot. Knead your foot like bread dough. Or reach deeper tissue and muscles by grasping your foot with both hands and applying a “sliding” pressure with your thumbs.
Follow the link to read more about How Massage Can Relieve Your Peripheral Neuropathy Pain.
Topical analgesics – These pain medications are typically sold as lotions, creams, or gels. They work by being spread on the skin, then penetrating inward to relieve pain. Some topical analgesics may contain menthol, eucalyptus oil, or turpentine oil reducing pain levels by distracting nerves with a different sensation.
Others use salicylates (the ingredient found in aspirin). Yet, others attempt to cancel out a chemical called substance P (a neurotransmitter that apparently transmits pain signals to the brain).
Oral analgesics – These medications include pain relievers, like acetaminophen (Tylenol), which relieve pain without reducing inflammation.
Tip: Strictly follow directions when using acetaminophen. Taking too much acetaminophen can cause liver complications, including failure.
Non-steroidal anti-inflammatory drugs (NSAIDs) – NSAIDs can be attained with and without a prescription (in lower doses). NSAIDs include aspirin (Bayer, Bufferin, etc.), ibuprofen (Advil, Motrin), and naproxen (Aleve). Take low dosages for a limited time solely to relieve pain. Your doctor may advise you to take a higher dose for a longer period if you have a condition that involves inflammation and pain.
Note: NSAID medications potentially have multiple side effects. Discuss any health conditions or risks with your doctor before their use.
Nerve pain medication – Pain resulting from nerve damage (neuropathy) may not respond well (or at all) to acetaminophen or NSAIDs. The following medications are commonly prescribed for neuropathy:
Tip: Consult your physician before taking these medications, as they may include side effects like drowsiness, dizziness, and swelling. You may need to reduce or discontinue outside activities like driving or operating machinery while taking these medications.
Nerve blocks and Corticosteroids – These injectable medications work to either numb a particular nerve (nerve blocks) or to reduce inflammation to relieve pain (Corticosteroids)
When Should I Seek Medical Attention?
Seek medical care immediately if you experience any unusual tingling, weakness, or pain in your feet or hands. Obtaining an early diagnosis and treatment will offer the best chance for mitigating or arresting your symptoms and preventing any further peripheral nerve damage.
Life-Threatening Peripheral Neuropathy Symptoms
Any condition that causes you sustained pain, discomfort, or forces you to restrict your mobility should trigger you to seek medical attention. However, the following symptoms or conditions can be life-threatening and must be addressed immediately:
Weakness, numbness, tingling, or sharp pain that spreads upward from the toes to the legs, or the fingers to the arms
Erratic or racing heartbeat
Extreme high or low blood pressure
Difficulty breathing or gasping for air
Loss of coordination
Note: Save time and potentially your life by dialing 9-1-1 for emergency services. When experiencing such severe symptoms, avoid operating a vehicle or other mechanical equipment.
Disclaimer: This Content is not intended as a substitute for professional medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. Always seek the advice of your primary care physician or other qualified health provider with any questions you may have regarding this or other medical conditions.
Toe Pain and Peripheral Neuropathy
In this article, you discovered what can cause sharp stinging pain in your toes, what you can do to ease or relieve the pain, when you should seek medical attention, and which symptoms indicate a life-threatening medical event.
Knowing how to relieve pain in your toes will help you maintain your mobility and rest easier, pain-free and recognizing when these symptoms turn deadly will undoubtedly give you a head start in preserving your life.
Ignoring the signs or the worsening of neuropathy symptoms allows nerve damage to progress. And can quickly land you in the hospital or worse.
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Phil Mickelson CBD Oil How to Use, Benefits and Where to Buy?
Phil Mickelson CBD Oil
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I don’t really know you, but i would just like to share that as a little kid i: ate medicine out of the family dog’s food, drank an entire bottle of Tylenol, and ate definitely poisonous flowers. And I’m pretty sure i ate an entire rock one time?
i have eaten whole handfuls of gravel. i have drank rat poison. i have eaten toxic glue. you guys are scary.
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How to manage your pain after knee replacement surgery?
One of the most important concerns for patients undergoing knee replacement surgery is: Will I be ready to handle the pain after the surgery?
The reality is people that undergo knee replacement surgery will face varying degrees of pain after the surgery. an individual can follow some essential ways to manage postoperative symptoms and ease their recovery.
After the initial swelling and pain, most of the patients will see a dramatic improvement in their knee issues within weeks of getting a knee replacement procedure. The team of orthopedic experts and nurses uses various methods and medicines to make sure comfort for the patient.
Healthcare experts or professionals utilize a bundle of treatments before, during, and after the replacement procedure to regulate inflammation and pain.
These methods include local anesthetic injections, various sorts of nerve blocks, and pain medicines, as multimodal analgesia. These methods provide pain relief and help reduce the length of an individual’s hospital stay.
How to manage pain and swelling after knee replacement?
Pain may be a major postoperative issue for patients who are close to have the knee replacement operation. Every patient wants to understand about their postoperative life, what proportion pain or discomfort they’re going to have, and the way many medicines they’re going to need to take after undergoing a knee replacement surgery.
Educating yourself about pain can significantly reduce fears or myths and assist you manage your expectations.
According to the American Academy of Orthopedic Surgeons (AAOS), common pain management medicines or procedures include:
1. Nonsteroidal anti-inflammatory drugs (NSAIDs)
2. Injections of local anesthesia directly into the joint during the procedure
3. Acetaminophen (Tylenol)
Ice and elevation of the leg will play an important role in reducing swelling and pain during the recovery time. People should utilize a cloth-wrapped ice pack to the swollen part for 20 minutes every 3–4 hours when possible.
Gentle physical exercises after the knee replacement surgery can also reduce inflammation and therefore the risk of blood clots.
To lower the danger of inflammation and blood clots, orthopedic experts suggest a blood thinner for a hard and fast time after the procedure. Other useful devices after knee replacement surgery include compression boots and support or compression stockings.
Physical therapy and other essential exercises
Performing physical therapies or knee exercises can speed up recovery rate and reduce postoperative pain. most of the people can start knee movement within hours of the surgery.
A physiotherapist will guide you thru some specific exercises that help strengthen the knee and restore its health. they’ll suggest performing essential exercises for 20–30 minutes at a time, two to 3 times daily, also as walking for half-hour two or 3 times each day .
Some samples of postoperative exercises include:
Straight leg raises
Knee straightening exercises
Pain medication after the knee surgery
The primary function of the kidneys to flush out the toxins and impurities from the body gets disrupted when it gets infected. the method of excreting wastes is hindered when this function of the kidney gets impaired.
This results in the build-up of poisons , excess water & salt in several body tissues. Ultimately the ankle, legs, hands, face, and feet, all find yourself getting swollen.
Severe malfunctioning can cause retention of water within the lungs also , which results in shortness of breath. Prolonged puffiness within the eyes is additionally a symbol that indicates that your kidney could also be in peril .
Loss of appetite
Most patients will prefer oral pain medication for up to many days. These are nonsteroidal anti-inflammatory drug drugs (NSAIDs) like ibuprofen (Advil, Motrin) or naproxen (Aleve).
If severe pain occurs, your orthopedic expert might suggest stronger pain relievers like oxycodone (OxyContin) or tramadol (Ultram).
you’ll need over-the-counter medicines like acetaminophen (Tylenol), NSAIDs, etc., to stop temporary pain and swelling afterward .
Home treatments after the knee replacement
After the surgery, you’ll continue wearing compression stockings which will reduce the danger of developing a grime and should prevent aching within the leg.
Another home remedy is elevating the operated leg above the extent of the guts periodically during the day.
Some topical creams and patches also can reduce knee pain and make it comfortable for you to sleep in the dark. These usually include menthol, capsaicin, or salicylates. Patients commonly utilize these ingredients on the operated area to ease the pain.
The knee replacement surgery affects each patient differently. Some people face some pain, inflammation, and bruising after the procedure.
Discuss your level of pain together with your orthopedic doctor or knee replacement surgeon and report any abrupt changes. Using medicines, ice packs, elevation, and physical exercises can reduce discomfort and speed up recovery.
Consult the simplest orthopedic doctor at Amandeep Hospital
You should consult the simplest team of orthopedic experts at Amandeep Hospital as soon as possible if your severe pain persists.
Amandeep Hospital, the simplest orthopedic hospital in Amritsar, is committed to changing and improving patients’ lives by serving exceptional orthopedic care through innovative technology, ongoing research, high-quality services, and cost-effective treatments.
Our highly trained knee replacement surgeons take complete responsibility for the patient’s care and health in order that they will live a pain-free life.
Don’t sleep in pain! Connect with our experts today.
Clouds Collect Before A Hurricane: Utilizing The Energy Of Brand
Ever believed why are many consumers ready to cover more for a dependable high end as opposed to a store manufacturer, which regularly is the identical item with an alternative tag and higher cost? Reputation. A company's name may be their greatest asset. New Free Notion Competitor such as for example that of AIG, Enron and WorldCom have seriously hampered the confidence among stakeholder communities and widespread community concern about organization ethics. When we consider the event of Andersen, the important reasons why the organization ceases to occur is because of the negative reputation that developed over a short span of time.
Also many other entities that have been linked to the Enron scandal have not recovered. Name is shaped not merely as time passes, but additionally over time as a function of complicated interrelationships and exchanges between and among stakeholders and the organization in different contexts. This shows that status is dependant on historical actions, and memories/perceptions of the stakeholders associated with the corporation in confirmed situation over time. It implies that a strong understanding of the standards that stakeholders used in assessing reputation can aid in the progress of a reputation.
Ultimately, if name is created with time and as a consequence of a series of complex relationships and activities, there is a chance to the company that's not at all times recognized. It's this that may be termed as'reputational expectations.'
The worth of a firm's overall status is easily noticed in their relationship to a firm's profits: as a firm's name increases, so does their purchase (Shapiro, 1982). A strong with a good overall status possesses a valuable asset - "goodwill" (brand names, corporate logos and customer loyalty). A firm's great status can change into more credible commercials (Goldberg and Hartwick, 1990). Brands may usually be repositories for a firm's name (high quality performance on a single item can frequently be moved to another item via the company name) (Moorthy, 1985; Wernerfelt, 1988).
A firm will miss its perceived name when it repeatedly doesn't fulfil its stated intentions or industry signals. A market indicate gives information beyond pure variety meant to convey data, to alert another organization to its objectives, commitments, or motives. This consequential lack of its observed status prevents the firm from signalling successfully because its signal will be provided with little interest by their competitors. A strong, then, has substantial incentive to work difficult to establish a credible reputation. Popularity between firms develops when firms are uncertain about one another's alternatives or motives and wherever they option with one another over repeatedly in connected situations or where previous working with other firms are visible (Milgrom and Roberts, 1982a). Reputation formation typically occurs when different firms must attempt to collect the missing information via the signals given, by interpreting the initiating firm's measures as indicative of their potential behaviour. Businesses, therefore, can use name and reliability as a method of predicting the actions of competitors. Status, however, is definitely an unfinished feature since there is generally an occasion insulate influence; companies should frequently alter name following the newest time (Shapiro, 1982). Popularity is definitely most appropriate soon after the most recent transaction; the perspective towards another deal is influenced by the prior attitude and their reliability decays with the time taken between transactions.
The critical factor in the reputation lag is the full time body concerned with the pace and expenses of learning (information flows).The concept of status is dependent upon a firm's preliminary beliefs and their observation of yet another firm's previous behaviour (DeJong et al., 1985; Rogerson, 1985; Sobel, 1985). By giving precise data, a business increases its popularity but at the cost of foregoing the probable immediate get that may be produced by duping rivals; the organization, thus, get short-term failures to create reputation and secure larger, long-term gains.
The concept "clouds gather before a hurricane" clearly suggests that organisations can frequently over come intricacies. But that requires sleeping the foundations well in advance for coping with a problem. The key technique for this effort is developing a powerful brand. Basically, businesses should manufacturer themselves or be printed by their competitors. Johnson & Brown is regularly placed as one of many world's most respected companies. Their managing of the Tylenol solution recall when several people died of cyanide poisoning cemented a currently powerful reputation because they set their customers'safety before short-term gain - even though the company had nothing to do with the item tampering. The influence of how their administration and media relations staff operated ultimately led to larger revenue of Tylenol after the merchandise was reintroduced, compared to many other products whose revenue never recover following a solution recall. Therefore just like healthcare organizations whose services and products have a direct influence on human life, how important is status administration for application firms?