#post-Covid
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all too well (stan's version)
my masterlist.
entry 3 in my (taylor’s version) songfic series.
summary: you said if we had been closer in age maybe it would've been fine...and that made me want to die.
pairing: post-covid!stan marsh x younger!reader
fandom: south park
warnings: oh god. toxic relationship. toxic age-gap relationship (20s/50s). domestic violence (throwing things). language. afab reader.
notes: based on all too well (10 minute version), the song and the short film, by taylor swift. this has been beta read, and fun fact, this is the first fic i've written that got a perfect score in grammarly. it has been beta read. :)
word count: 2.9k
“If we had been closer in age maybe it would’ve been fine.”
That was the moment that set you off. It was like a match was lit and dropped into a brush pile doused in kerosene. It simultaneously made you want to rip your skin from your bones and scream in agony, but also retaliate towards the older man standing in front of you…so that’s exactly what you did.
“You burned down your family’s farm. You killed your sister and your mom, and you ruined your own life just like you fucking ruined me! You told me you loved me. You took my virginity. You told me you wanted to marry me and now you’re saying our ages are a problem? That’s bullshit, Stan and you know it.”
“Fuck you. Fuck you. Get the fuck out of my house. We’re done. Go find you some guy your age that can drink to tolerate your batshit crazy ass, because my body has built too high of a tolerance to even be able to get buzzed enough to be around you. I’d rather go back to using my hand on the nightly basis than listen to you scream and cry at me like a fucking kid.”
You held it together despite internally wanting to crumble. You wanted to fall to your knees and sob and beg him to stay and beg him to love you, because despite everything, you still loved him.
“Fine.” You walked over to the counter and grabbed your belongings and your keys before turning to head out of the door. You then turned around and faced him, “That’s the funny part about all of this, Stan. My age is a problem now? Cool, fine, because you know what? Years will pass and I’ll get older…but your little girlfriends, side pieces, and fuckbuddies? They’ll all stay my age.”
With that, you walked out and slammed the door, heading to your car and exiting his driveway quicker than you’d ever pulled out of a location in your life. You tried to hold your tears in as you drove, but they started quickly pouring out and didn’t stop until you found yourself sitting on the floor of the shower in your apartment hours later
The water falling from the shower head had started running cold a long while ago. You couldn’t tell if you were still shaking from the tears or from the cold drops that fell onto your bare skin, but you pulled your knees in closer to your chest as you sat there overwhelmed by everything. This wasn’t your first fight with Stan. Things were never fully stable. He’d gotten mad at you when you asked him why he dropped your hand and stepped in front of you when a tall woman with black hair and glasses approached him at the class reunion that he’d invited you to.
“You dropped my fucking hand! What am I supposed to do with that?”
“I didn’t even fucking notice. What are you talking about I ‘dropped your hand’?”
You shuddered again at the memory as it kept playing on in your mind as if you couldn’t shut it off even though you desperately wanted to.
“They are all older than me.”
“But like, what are you talking about?”
“I feel so out of place. You’re the only one that makes people comfortable.”
“You’re making this about you.”
“They won’t even look at me!”
You finally mustered up the strength to stand up, get out of the shower, and wrap yourself in a towel. It was removed the moment you dried off enough to put on your pajamas, consisting of one of Stan’s t-shirts and a pair of athletic shorts. Your heart ached as the cotton fabric went over your head and onto your body, hanging loosely on your frame.
You hadn’t even bothered to tell anyone what’d happened. You hadn’t from the start, so why start now. Your friends would be sympathetic and supportive, but you also knew of some friends, but more so family, that would be telling you ‘I told you so’.
Your mother had warned you from the beginning, telling you that he had no business being with someone that was young enough to be his daughter regardless of whether or not you were both consenting adults, which had been your main defense all along. He was able to connect with your dad on sports, alcohol, and music and had even made the connection that they might have played each other in football in high school. That thought made you feel a little uncomfortable, but it wasn’t enough for you to see the concerns that even your dad silently harbored about this relationship.
You shook your head, drying the ends of your hair with a towel before curing up to lay down on your side, feeling ashamed and embarrassed that you’d even let this go on for as long as you had. There were so many signs and you’d missed them all, wearing what you could only describe as rose tinted glasses to see the world through the lens of the hope of true love.
You stayed on your side, curled up, until you glanced at the alarm clock to see the time. It was then that you were brought back to a few months prior, naked and curled up on your side in his bed as he pulled you into his chest. You felt dirty and ashamed. It was one thing for you to use your body to stop an argument and to pose a distraction from harsh words and glass bottles being thrown around, but it was another for him to go along with it. You wanted him to not take you up on your offer, coming to you with the proposition to talk about the problem at hand instead of just fucking to forget. The memory made you feel sick to your stomach…they all did.
The only thing that hurt worse than the bad memories were the ones that radiated any glimmer of hope into the spiral of your relationship. You baked cookies together at one in the morning all because you just wanted to. He wrapped his arms around your waist as you mixed the ingredients and got them prepared and hoisted you onto the counter to kiss you while you waited for the oven timer to go off. He told you all about his childhood…from his friends to the farm…information you’d never think of sharing, let alone weaponizing. You told him about yours and how you’d always dreamed of falling madly in love, getting married, and having children as to drop some kind of hint to him. He told you he loved you not even a week later when he’d come over to spend the evening with you, but the kiss that followed tasted of whiskey, planting the seed of doubt in your heart that you’d work hard to push back down every time you said those three words to him.
The good did not outweigh the bad, but your mind couldn’t wrap around the idea that someone could be that kind only to be so cruel. How could someone love you and then destroy you with such simplicity? Unless, they never loved you at all. You shook your head, trying to shake the thought out of the forefront of your mind. That could never be the case, but what if it was?
You were jarred from your thoughts by the sound of not knocking, but pounding on your door. You jumped, unsettled by the noise. You walked to the door, peering through the peephole only to see Stan standing on your doormat, partially slumped over on the door, using his closed fist to pound on the door. He apologized, begging you to answer the door through slurred words all because he loves you and he made a mistake.
You opened the door and Stan all but fell inside, stumbling and grabbing a hold of a coat rack and your arm. Several items fell off of the coat rack as he picked himself up. You rolled your eyes watching him scramble to pick them up out of the floor, almost falling again.
“Just leave it.” You replied coldly.
“N-No, I did this…I fucked it up like I fuck up everything else.” he handed you a beanie and a hoodie and you took it into your arms with a deep sigh of frustration.
His hand landed on a red knit infinity scarf. He picked it up and took a good look at it. “You had this on when we went to see Shelley and mom. I-It matched the flowers.”
You took a hard swallow, pursing your lips, “Yeah…” Your mind went back to the red carnations Stan placed on his sister and his mother’s graves that day. Regardless of his behavior, you couldn’t help but pity him when it came to his family. It was a tragedy and there wasn’t anyone that could deny that.
Once you hung the articles back on the rack, you turned to Stan, who was leaning on the wall for support. He was more than obviously drunk, per usual. You cursed the availability of self-driving cars, but you doubt deep-down that his drunken state would’ve kept him from getting behind the wheel to try and keep you entrapped considering it was something that would ultimately benefit him. Despite his self-deprecating behaviors, Stan was the love of his own life. He was his own number one and there was no one that could knock him out of that position short of the bottle.
You crossed your arms over your chest, “What do you want, Stanley? You told me to get out of your house and that we were done.”
“I-I know…but…I couldn’t…I couldn’t let you leave. I love you, Y/N. I love you and need you, baby.” he slurred, reaching for you. You took a step back and rolled your eyes as he continued, “Alexa told me I needed to stay away from you, but I just can’t. I can’t do that. She told me to stay away from ‘that little girl’ and to find someone my own age, but I told her that you’re a woman and you’re mature. It’s fine. You know that, right? I’m not…I’m not worried about your age.”
You blinked, perplexed by his statements considering what he’d said earlier, “I don’t even know how to respond to that.”
“Remember when Kyle said he didn’t know I had a daughter, but it wasn’t my daughter, it was you?”
“Yeah, and I remember your other friend stopping me at the bar telling me I needed to run too.”
The whole reunion felt like a fever dream, but the comments made by Kyle, as well as the man at the bar…a taller man with dark hair and tanned skin who was holding the hand of his husband who also looked at you with deep concern etched onto his features…stuck with you. You knew by their impact that you shouldn’t have let them go, but instead, you forced them to the back of your mind every time they’d reappear. You’d remind yourself that these people no longer knew Stan, because it’d been decades since their school years. The presence of a freshly twenty-something year old on the arm of a fifty-year old was everything an outsider needed to know about Stan Marsh.
“That’s a good idea…let’s run…let’s go to Vegas…let’s get married. I love you and I want you to stay with me.” he begged, this time dropping to his knees.
“Get up, Stan. This is ridiculous.” You said, extending a hand to help him up. He stood back up and walked closer towards you, putting his hands on your waist. Tears were welled up in his eyes and his face was flushed. You couldn’t tell if this was from the heat of the whiskey, emotion, or his history of having a sensitive stomach in times of high stress.
“I'm so sorry.” He leaned in and pressed his forehead to yours. His lips lingered near yours and your chest tightened. Your love for the man in front of you was doing its best to fight off the anger and sorrow you were feeling as if you hadn’t been down this road before. This was a normal occurrence even if it wasn’t in the presence of a potential break up. Every fight ended like this. He’d get drunk, apologize, kiss you, fuck you, and then wake up the next day hungover. The fight would be long since forgotten.
“I can’t do this, Stan.” Your voice cracked, “I love you, but I can’t do this.”
“But you love me.”
“Sometimes love isn’t enough.” You spoke plainly, gently putting your hands on his chest to slowly push him away. Your stomach turned a little, knowing his past history of violence. He’d never hit you, but any nearby object was fair game to be tossed through the air in your general direction. You didn’t trust him not to hit you, and that should’ve been another red flag, but it also went ignored.
“But…”
“You took my virginity when we were both drunk. You lied about my age at the reunion until someone told you there was no way I was almost thirty. You’re basically unemployed. You drink all day and half-ass your job to the point where you lose clients quicker than you make money.” The more you spoke, the more the anger began to rise as you recalled all of the things you’d been ignoring for so long, “You’ve thrown full glass bottles of whiskey at me. You’ve thrown long neck bottles, shot glasses…basically anything you can drink your sorrows away in has been thrown my way on top of your phone, my fucking water bottle…anything with weight to it. You ruined my twenty-first by not showing up to my party and blacking out drunk in your own fucking bedroom, which made my parents hate you…”
“Your parents love me!” The rest of your points going ignored again.
“You really are oblivious as fuck, aren’t you? I’m dying inside, Stan. I can’t fucking doing this anymore. You have ruined me and I don’t know if I’ll ever be myself again. You said if we had been closer in age maybe it would’ve been fine…but I don’t even think you could hold a relationship with someone your own age. If Wendy wasn’t married, you would’ve left me that night and moved on to ruin her too…but I don’t think she would’ve given you the opportunity…because admittedly, she’s not young and fucking stupid like me.” You pursed your lips, taking a breath, “You couldn’t manipulate her the way you do me…the way you did me…because we’re done, Stanley.”
He looked at you, eyes glazed over, his brain taking longer to process what you’d said due to his state of intoxication.
“I loved you and I tried to be there for you. I tried to create a safe space, because fuck, no one’s done it for you for the last fifty some years and I thought you deserved it…but you just took advantage of it.” You said, shaking your head, “I hope one day you find everything you’re missing. I hope you go to rehab, because you need it. I hope you make peace with your father, because you need that too.”
“Fuck Randy. I fucking hate Randy. He’s…”
“He’s your dad and sure he’s fucked up over the years, but it’s not like you’re some saint either. You both have made mistakes. Go to therapy, get your shit together, and go find happiness…with someone who isn’t me…and is closer to your own age.”
Tears had started to stream down your face rapidly and you hadn’t noticed. He stepped closer and reached up to wipe your tears away. You shook your head, reaching up to wipe them off yourself.
“I’ll go with you out to your car and program it to take you back home, but after that, I don’t want to see you ever again.”
“You don’t mean that.”
You nodded, “I do…and I’d normally say that I’m sorry, but I really don’t think I am.”
“I thought we were made for each other.” he paused, “Maybe another time…in another life?”
You shrugged. The sentiment was nice. It was pleasant to think about, but it was sadly not a reality. It was doubtful that your lives would ever cross again and it was unlikely that he’d change. In another life, maybe, but that wasn’t something you were even sure existed.
“I don’t know, Stan.” You said, wrapping your arms around your midriff.
“I love you.”
You didn’t say anything. You opened the door and motioned for him to follow you. On your way out, the red of the scarf hanging from the coat rack caught your eye. For a brief second, your hand reached up to take it, debating on dropping the knit accessory in the back seat of his car. You knew that this would just enable Stan to try and contact you again and begin this cycle in a never-ending loop like the article of clothing itself.
You wordlessly followed Stan to his car, programming it to drive him back to his home before helping him into his seat and closing the door. You backed up, watching the car start to pull out of the lot and head down the street as he exited your life for good.
It was rare, I was there, I remember it all too well…
#south park#south park fanfiction#south park x reader#stan marsh#pc!stan#pc!stan marsh#post-covid#post-covid special#stan marsh x reader#stan marsh x yn#stan marsh x you#south park x yn#south park x you
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I know I'm like six months late on Jimmy Buffets latest (and last) album, but if its prove one thing...it's that Emmylou Harris really had a Corona glow-up.
Like listen to those vocals! It sounds *so* smooth... I've long felt like Emmylou really benefitted from the pandemic and has come back sounding better than in a long time.
Another good example of Emmylou slaying post-covid is her doing "Gold watch and chain" with Carlene Carter.
youtube
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wear a mask. wear a KN95 mask. replace your filter regularly.
get a mask like the flo mask pro, with replaceable filters and adjustable top and bottom straps, if you can afford it.
mask up on public transit. mask up at work and school. mask up at parties. mask up at funerals. mask up on dates. mask up on outings. mask up at your friends’ homes.
don’t remove your mask indoors. don’t remove your mask to speak. don’t remove your mask to cough or sneeze.
you can’t eat or drink with your mask on, so avoid eating or drinking indoors. try to hold your breath if you have to.
30-50% of COVID cases result in long COVID. long COVID can destroy your life. any stranger could be immunocompromised or have regular contact with an immunocompromised person. wear a mask. wear a mask. wear a mask.
#op#covid#covid safety#covid-19#pandemic#post-covid#post covid#god please wear a mask. please wear a mask it’s not over i don’t want to lose my health i don’t want my mom to die#covid isn’t over
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It's been a while since I posted anything which isn't a reblog.
Likes and reblogs are easier.
For those who are have asks waiting in my inbox, I'm sorry. I'm a kindergarten teacher for 1-6y olds, but I got Covid19 at the end of October (2023), and then it continued with post-Covid. At the writing moment (6/2-2024) I'm still sick. I'm still not okay. Some days are better, and many are worse, but I started going back to work at 25% last week to help my head - and even THAT little is becoming too much.
I will likely have to ask my doctor to let me go back to 100% sick leave at home again, and it feels... Right now I feel fucking awful about it. I miss work. I miss the kids in class. I'm so tired of being sick. But I just can't.
If I have a better day these upcoming weeks I'll try to answer some of the asks, but I can't promise of when that will be. I'm just... I'm just tired. I'm trying to get better, but I'm just so fucking tired.
I promise I'm doing my best though, and I'll see ye' all when I have a better day again. ♥ Take care everyone.
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adaptation post-COVID
Daily writing promptHow have you adapted to the changes brought on by the Covid-19 pandemic?View all responses
To be honest I’m not sure how much I’ve adapted. With my health conditions I can’t risk any kind of respiratory infection so I took the masking seriously and to be honest never thought all that much about it. Entire cultures like the Japanese think nothing of masking so why were…
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i really thought i had come to terms with this shit. like, oh yeah, i'm disabled on multiple axes, yeah, i have long covid, whatever.
but today i went to the post covid clinic and had to actually talk about it and make a plan for how to take care of myself medically for the next six months and see my diagnosis written out and be confronted with the reality that the changes i've made in my life since i was sick in late 2019/early 2020 simply are not enough and more is needed, and like.
wow, tumblr, i'm just not there mentally or emotionally.
(extremely depressing to go from being told that the doctor sees patients like me literally all day every day to the subway, where no one was masked except me. life in these united states.)
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Gonna Probably Head to the ER Again but Im not sure tbh.
To check something that ive been concerned about as of recently.
I noticed i kept having a weird low-grade fever around at 99.0 Degrees, and for some odd reason kept heating up anytime i walked despite the temperature of the house. Woke up today with my back sweaty (but it was a light kind of sweaty and not a drenched sweat..? Im unsure), etc. Breathlessness, stuff, things... i just wanna rule a few things out with the ER.
I also had weighed myself yesterday and i was around 189.6 Pounds, but when i weighed myself today i was ranging from 188.0 to 189.0 (because digital weights are just unreliable at times), so highly unsure of whether or not i lost a drastic amount of weight from the lack of eating (despite eating two slices of pizza this morning), ate a sandwich and that was it. Regardless, main point is that im trying to keep an eye on things and I don't like sudden weight loss.
I mean, you may say "hey losing a pound within a day sounds good!" Yeah, if you were healthy and not worried about your own body betraying you because of fucking Post-Covid.
Another reason im worried is because around on Oct 2nd, i was checking my lymphnodes because I thought they were swollen or something, but honestly i am unsure, still, i just want to head to the ER to rule certain things out, just in case, and to be on the safe side.
I'm pretty sure if it was something deadly... i would probably be feeling it by a lot. Additionally, the digital weight is probably highly unreliable to use, and my tendency to move sometimes, still, im just.... worried... that's all, it might just be health anxiety induced by Post-Covid, but god fucking damnit i just need to be sure sometimes.
I just hope im fine... ...but now, im really hungry.
Additionally, i do feel a tad bit better compared to before but sometimes i have sudden short lived aches that feel moreso just caused by me slouching or something. Breathlessness whenever i lay down that seems relatively shortlived? Blegh... im honestly unsure. I think i might open up comms just in the event that i may need to pay for things myself or whatever. Because honestly, im probably gonna need it.
EDIT 9:56 PM, might just head to a normal doctor instead on Monday.
#health related#personal thoughts#huff...#tw health#tw anxiety#semi-vent#very personal stuff#post-covid
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kvetching about post-covid shit below
my GI system's been messed up since covid and my GP prescribed me omeprazole and an antiemetic and neither of them are working T~T
I'm also on the wait list to get an upper endoscopy but idk if I should go back and talk to the GP about it anyway to see if I can get moved up in priority
I've had repeated instances of waking up at night and having to go throw up and I'm nauseous just about every time I eat
it's been over a year and it's not going away
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Photo
Model Scar
Just like a scar might form over an injury on your skin, damage to your organs can result in rigid tissue which restricts movement and function. When this happens in the lungs, such as in the major post-COVID complication lung fibrosis, stiffened tissue can stop the lungs working and be fatal. Current methods for investigating this in the lab are limited, so researchers have made a mini-lung model equipped with real-time monitoring of cell mechanics under life-like conditions. An ultra-thin membrane supports the growth of cells (such as the false-coloured purple air sac lining cell pictured on a bed of green matrix proteins). The membrane is compatible with the body’s cells, and is permeable and flexible to mimic lung tissue. The researchers measured cell stiffness as a marker of disease progression or improvement, and can test the impact of any treatments, which will help the development of any new therapies.
Written by Anthony Lewis
Image from work by Ali Doryab and colleagues
Institute of Lung Health and Immunity (LHI) and Comprehensive Pneumology Center (CPC), Helmholtz Munich, Member of the German Center for Lung Research (DZL), Neuherberg, Germany
Video originally published with a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International (CC BY 4.0)
Published in Advanced Materials, August 2022
You can also follow BPoD on Instagram, Twitter and Facebook
#science#biomedicine#lung fibrosis#lung#fibrosis#scar tissue#post-covid#pulmonary#electron microscopy#tissue repair#tissue healing
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Coffee date Thursday:
- only one more day until M is here and Spring break starts!
- Drained from all the stress going. Why can’t people just communicate? How is it so difficult?
- Lunch yesterday was non existent as it has been all week at work. At least I had a Reese’s to put me through.
- Been enjoying my new crafting tools. Lots of fun times learning how to use them and now I get to craft all the things.
- Kind of just going through the motions of life right now. Brain fog, sleep deprivation, exhaustion, difficulty breathing. All the usual post-COVID junk that I have sadly become used to and recognize rather quickly.
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My bout of covid was short and relatively trouble free, but now I’m dealing with what I might call post covid depression...I think?? A week or so of post-viral effects are normal with any illness (and not the same thing as long covid), but I was expecting it to be exhaustion. I certainly am exhausted but it’s more like depression exhausted. I have to constantly distract myself or I spiral and look at a load of things I know will upset me until I can’t stop. And I see no reason not to let myself spiral, so it’s even harder. I just feel, why bother? I might as well feel shit because I probably deserve it.
To be honest I used to feel like this all the time, and I just forgot because I got treatment that helped and it stopped being all the time. Right now it feels like we are going back to that but it probably isn’t, just feels like it is. :(
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adaptation post-COVID
Daily writing promptHow have you adapted to the changes brought on by the Covid-19 pandemic?View all responses
To be honest I’m not sure how much I’ve adapted. With my health conditions I can’t risk any kind of respiratory infection so I took the masking seriously and to be honest never thought all that much about it. Entire cultures like the Japanese think nothing of masking so why were…
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Vita e morte dei neutrofili (II): l’evoluzione delle conoscenze e la ribalta
Diversità e plasticità dei neutrofili
Nonostante tutti gli studi, per qualche decennio l’interesse dell’immunologia nel contesto delle malattie reumatologiche ed autoimmuni si è focalizzato sui linfociti T. Tuttavia, una scoperta ha ribaltato la visione “accantonata” dei neutrofili nell’autoimmunità e nei fenomeni infiammatori: quella delle trappole neutrofiliche extracellulari (Neutrophil…
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#citochine#flogosi cronica#infezione batterica#infiammazione#malattia di Crohn#malattia infiammatoria intestinale#microbiota#neutrofili#post-covid#rettocolite ulcerosa#sistema immunitario
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2023 Stats: The Food of it All
I like to reflect back on the year for New Years Eve. These aren’t necessarily disappointments or regrets-it’s just how it happened. The best thing is New Years is a clean slate for a fresh start, and I’m excited about that.
I mean, nobody knew told us a whole pandemic was about to strike. So we had to eat. Right? Right???
We’ve done better and better in the following years. Thanks to supply…
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#2023#capitalism#Covid#Covid-19#diet#dieting#food#goals#groceries#habit#Missouri#money#motivation#new year#post-Covid#reflection#restaurants#Saint Louis#shopping#supply-chain-crises
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Sure there's zombies killing and eating people on the street but those people are not dying from the virus they're dying from comorbidities. For instance, that guy we saw getting eaten on the way into work today clearly died from blood loss, not infection, plus he already had a heart condition. People with preexisting conditions are just going to have to take care of themselves. Say it with me, "They're all already dead to me." See, that feels a lot better now doesn't it?
Good because you still have to go to work. No we're not paying you extra. Yes we're doubling grocery prices. No you don't qualify for disability. Or healthcare. Or a home.
Look, if you get bitten, you can stay home for one day, I guess 😒, but then you need to come in early. We're really short staffed at the moment, despite our company's profits being higher than ever. In fact we may be laying some of you off next month. You don't mind working off the clock right?
Also you look silly with that protective gear. We're gonna harass you for it, not like institutionally but just socially. Who cares if a zombie attacks you? Who cares if we invite them into the building? You don't need to defend yourself, you're just overreacting. If you get bitten just tell everyone the festering bite mark is from a different animal, that's what we all do.
And hey, don't worry so much. It's endemic, which means we don't have to keep track of how many people are dying from it anymore. Just look at those numbers! It's only killed 2,000 people in America this week! That's basically nobody! We're back to normal!
If everything starts tasting like rotting meat for the rest of your life, it's probably something else. If you experience brain fog or you forget things constantly or you're tired all the time after even minor physical activity, it's just because you're lazy. Yes every other virus you ever get will also be increasingly worse but that's just a coincidence. Those viruses just happen to be exponentially worse now.
Plus, those few weeks during the lockdown were terrible for my mental health. I just can't keep living like that, so we have to go back to normal life, which now involves people biting each other and twitching uncontrollably and rotting visibly.
You can't expect the world to wait for you. "Already dead to me," remember?
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