#Health Care center nearby

[navjeevandiagnostics]

Best Sonography in Indore | Navjeevan Diagnostics

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[swetaroy]

Some Facts that Everyone should Know before having an Ultrasound Examination

A ultrasound imaging centre in Kolkata is used to diagnose many issues with organs like the liver, kidneys, ovaries, gallbladder, spleen, etc. in addition to pregnancy-related tests. Read More >> https://shorturl.at/elAVY

[reasonsforhope]

"For the first time in decades, public health data shows a sudden and hopeful drop in drug overdose deaths across the U.S.

"This is exciting," said Dr. Nora Volkow, head of the National Institute On Drug Abuse [NIDA], the federal laboratory charged with studying addiction. "This looks real. This looks very, very real."

National surveys compiled by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention already show an unprecedented decline in drug deaths of roughly 10.6 percent. That's a huge reversal from recent years when fatal overdoses regularly increased by double-digit percentages.

Some researchers believe the data will show an even larger decline in drug deaths when federal surveys are updated to reflect improvements being seen at the state level, especially in the eastern U.S.

"In the states that have the most rapid data collection systems, we’re seeing declines of twenty percent, thirty percent," said Dr. Nabarun Dasgupta, an expert on street drugs at the University of North Carolina.

According to Dasgupta's analysis, which has sparked discussion among addiction and drug policy experts, the drop in state-level mortality numbers corresponds with similar steep declines in emergency room visits linked to overdoses.

Dasgupta was one of the first researchers to detect the trend. He believes the national decline in street drug deaths is now at least 15 percent and could mean as many as 20,000 fewer fatalities per year.

"Today, I have so much hope"

After years of wrenching drug deaths that seemed all but unstoppable, some researchers, front-line addiction workers, members of law enforcement, and people using street drugs voiced caution about the apparent trend.

Roughly 100,000 deaths are still occurring per year. Street drug cocktails including fentanyl, methamphetamines, xylazine and other synthetic chemicals are more poisonous than ever.

"I think we have to be careful when we get optimistic and see a slight drop in overdose deaths," said Dan Salter, who heads a federal drug interdiction program in the Atlanta-Carolinas region. "The last thing we want to do is spike the ball."

But most public health experts and some people living with addiction told NPR they believe catastrophic increases in drug deaths, which began in 2019, have ended, at least for now. Many said a widespread, meaningful shift appears underway.

"Some of us have learned to deal with the overdoses a lot better," said Kevin Donaldson, who uses fentanyl and xylazine on the street in Burlington, Vermont.

According to Donaldson, many people using fentanyl now carry naloxone, a medication that reverses most opioid overdoses. He said his friends also use street drugs with others nearby, ready to offer aid and support when overdoses occur.

He believes these changes - a response to the increasingly toxic street drug supply - mean more people like himself are surviving.

"For a while we were hearing about [drug deaths] every other day. When was the last one we heard about? Maybe two weeks ago? That's pretty few and far between," he said.

His experience is reflected in data from the Vermont Department of Health, which shows a 22 percent decline in drug deaths in 2024.

"The trends are definitely positive," said Dr. Keith Humphreys, a nationally respected drug policy researcher at Stanford University. "This is going to be the best year we've had since all of this started."

"A year ago when overdose deaths continued to rise, I was really struggling with hope," said Brad Finegood, who directs the overdose crisis response in Seattle.

Deaths in King County, Washington, linked to all drugs have dropped by 15 percent in the first half of 2024. Fatal overdoses caused by street fentanyl have dropped by 20 percent.

"Today, I have so much hope," Finegood said.

-via NPR, September 18, 2024. Article continues below with an exploration of the whys (mostly unknown) and some absolutely fucking incredible statistics.

Why the sudden and hopeful shift? Most experts say it's a mystery

While many people offered theories about why the drop in deaths is happening at unprecedented speed, most experts agreed that the data doesn't yet provide clear answers.

Some pointed to rapid improvements in the availability and affordability of medical treatments for fentanyl addiction. "Expansion of naloxone and medications for opioid use disorder — these strategies worked," said Dr. Volkow at NIDA.

"We've almost tripled the amount of naloxone out in the community," said Finegood. He noted that one survey in the Seattle area found 85 percent of high-risk drug users now carry the overdose-reversal medication.

Dr. Rahul Gupta, the White House drug czar, said the drop in drug deaths shows a path forward.

"This is the largest decrease on record and the fifth consecutive month of recorded decreases," he said.

Gupta called for more funding for addiction treatment and healthcare services, especially in Black and Native American communities where overdose deaths remain catastrophically high.

"There is no way we're going to beat this epidemic by not focusing on communities that are often marginalized, underserved and communities of color," Gupta said.

"Overdose deaths in Ohio are down 31 percent"

Indeed, in many states in the eastern and central U.S. where improvements are largest, the sudden drop in drug deaths stunned some observers who lived through the darkest days of the fentanyl overdose crisis.

"This year overdose deaths [in Ohio] are down 31 percent," said Dennis Couchon, a harm reduction activist. "The deaths were just plummeting. The data has never moved like this."

"While the mortality data for 2024 is incomplete and subject to change, Ohio is now in the ninth consecutive month of a historic and unexpected drop in overdose deaths," said the organization Harm Reduction Ohio in a statement.

Missouri is seeing a similar trend that appears to be accelerating. After dropping by 10 percent last year, preliminary data shows drug deaths in the state have now fallen roughly 34 percent in the second quarter of 2024.

"It absolutely seems things are going in the right direction, and it's something we should feel pleased about," said Dr. Rachel Winograd, director of addiction science at the University of Missouri St. Louis, who also noted that drug deaths remain too high.

"It feels wonderful and great," said Dr. Mark Levine, head of the Vermont Health Department. "We need encouraging data like this and it will help sustain all of us who are actively involved in trying to have an impact here."

Levine, too, said there's still "plenty of work left to do."" ...

Dasgupta, the researcher at the University of North Carolina, agreed more needs to be done to help people in addiction recover when they're ready.

But he said keeping more people alive is a crucial first step that seemed impossible only a year ago.

"A fifteen or twenty percent [drop in deaths] is a really big number, an enormous impact," he said, calling for more research to determine how to keep the trend going.

"If interventions are what's driving this decline, then let's double down on those interventions."

-article via NPR, September 18, 2024

[blackenedsnow]

hi! i love your writing :)

i head canon that shadow volunteers for mental health organizations where they help people because he’s been there himself and wants to help people.

can you do a platonic shadow x reader one shot on that? reader is an extremely mentally ill person that shadow finds at the place he volunteers?

a quiet kind of hope

WARNING: Themes of severe depression, intrusive thoughts, implied self-isolation.

PAIRING: Shadow the Hedgehog & Reader

NOTE: Hi!! Oh my gosh, thank you for this sweet request. Shadow volunteering for mental health organizations is such a perfect headcanon—I love the idea of him channeling his past struggles into helping others. Thank you for trusting me with something so tender. Please take care of yourself. Sending love your way <333

SUMMARY: At a community mental health center where Shadow volunteers, he finds himself drawn to you—a quiet, lost soul in need of someone who understands.

The fluorescent lights of the community center hummed faintly above as you sat tucked into a corner, knees drawn to your chest. People came and went, their footsteps echoing against the scuffed linoleum floor, but no one seemed to notice you—or if they did, they didn’t stop.

You weren’t sure why you’d come here. Maybe it was the promise of a warm drink, or the idea that someone might listen without judgment. Maybe it was just somewhere to go when the walls of your apartment felt too heavy to bear.

Shadow walked past with his usual quiet purpose. He didn’t hover or pry, but his presence was impossible to ignore. He was there enough to seem imposing, yet somehow still approachable—his crimson eyes catching the light like embers as he glanced around the room.

It wasn’t until his third lap near your corner that he finally paused.

“You’re not here for the coffee,” he said, his voice low but not unkind.

Startled, you looked up at him. Shadow didn’t sit; he crouched down instead, resting one arm on his knee to meet you at eye level.

“Are you waiting for someone?” he asked.

You shook your head. Words felt too heavy to form.

Shadow tilted his head, studying you. There was no pity in his gaze—only patience. He knew better than to push for answers you weren’t ready to give.

“I’m Shadow,” he said after a moment. “I volunteer here. If you need anything—or if you just want to sit quietly—that’s fine.”

His presence was steady, like an anchor. You nodded hesitantly, unsure if he would leave or stay. To your surprise, he moved to sit on the floor nearby, keeping enough distance to give you space but staying close enough to show he wasn’t going anywhere.

For a long while, neither of you spoke.

It became a pattern over the next few weeks. Shadow never forced you to talk, never asked for more than you were willing to share. Sometimes, you’d sit in silence while he worked on paperwork or handed out supplies to other visitors. Other times, he’d offer simple observations—a comment about the weather, or a quiet remark about how the coffee was even worse than usual today.

He made it easy to exist without expectations.

One day, when the room was emptier than usual, you finally found the courage to speak.

“Why do you do this?” you asked, your voice barely louder than a whisper.

Shadow glanced up from his clipboard. For a moment, he looked almost surprised.

“I’ve been where you are,” he said simply. “I know what it’s like to feel… stuck. Like there’s no way out. I had help when I needed it. This is my way of paying it forward.”

His honesty was disarming. You stared at your hands, picking at a loose thread on your sleeve.

“It doesn’t feel like it’ll get better,” you admitted.

“It doesn’t, at first,” Shadow said. “But it can. Slowly. The first step is the hardest—you took it when you walked in here.”

His words settled over you like a blanket—not an instant cure, but a quiet reassurance. For the first time in weeks, the weight on your chest felt just a little lighter.

Over time, your conversations grew longer. Shadow never pushed you to share more than you were comfortable with, but he listened intently to everything you said. He remembered the little details—your favorite tea, the book you were slowly working through, the things that scared you most on bad days.

In his own way, he showed you that it was okay to take up space in the world.

You didn’t realize how much you’d come to rely on his presence until one evening, when the community center was unusually quiet. You’d been lost in thought, staring at the fading light outside, when Shadow appeared beside you with two steaming cups of tea.

“For you,” he said, setting one down carefully.

You blinked up at him. “Thank you. For everything.”

Shadow’s expression softened, just enough for you to notice.

“You don’t have to thank me,” he said. “You’re doing the hard part. I’m just here to remind you that you’re not alone.”

But one day…

The space you usually occupied in the corner of the center was empty.

Shadow’s sharp gaze swept across the room again, as if expecting you to appear any moment, but the hours ticked by, and the door remained closed.

It wasn’t unusual for people to miss a day here or there—life had a way of pulling people in unpredictable directions—but this wasn’t like you. You came to the center every time it was open, like clockwork, even on the days when you barely said a word.

Shadow couldn’t ignore the heavy feeling settling in his chest.

“You looking for someone?” one of the other volunteers asked as she packed up for the night.

Shadow nodded, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. “Yes. A regular.”

She smiled sympathetically. “Maybe they just needed a break. Sometimes it’s overwhelming for folks.”

“Maybe,” Shadow replied, but the doubt in his voice was evident.

He stayed a little longer than usual, tidying up stray cups and chairs as an excuse to linger. When it became clear you weren’t coming, he left, stepping out into the cold night air.

The thought of you walking home alone—head down, shoulders hunched—stuck in his mind.

The next day, you still didn’t show.

Shadow’s unease grew, twisting into something sharper. He tried to focus on his tasks, but his mind kept circling back to the hollow ache in his chest. He hated how familiar it felt.

When the center closed that evening, he made a decision. He wasn’t the type to sit around waiting for answers.

He remembered fragments of things you’d shared in passing—your neighborhood, the street you lived on. Shadow wasn’t one to pry, but he had a way of listening closely, piecing together the little details others might miss.

The streets were quiet as he walked, the night heavy with the kind of stillness that pressed against his ears. He found your building easily enough: a squat, aging structure with peeling paint and a flickering light by the entrance.

He climbed the stairs quickly, his footsteps echoing faintly.

When Shadow knocked, there was no answer.

He tried again, harder this time. “It’s me,” he called. “Shadow.”

For a long moment, there was only silence. Then, faintly, he heard movement inside.

“Go away,” came your voice, muffled and small.

Shadow’s ears twitched. You sounded exhausted—hollow in a way he hadn’t heard before.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” he said, his tone firm but not harsh. “But I need to know you’re okay.”

Another long pause. Eventually, the door creaked open just a crack.

You didn’t meet his eyes. Your face was tired, your shoulders hunched as if the weight of the world was pressing down on you.

“I’m fine,” you muttered, but the words were unconvincing even to yourself.

Shadow’s gaze softened. “You’re not.”

The door opened a little wider, and he could see the state of your apartment—the cluttered surfaces, the curtains drawn tight against the light. It was clear you hadn’t been taking care of yourself, and the sight of it made something tighten in his chest.

“I didn’t want to go today,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t want to do… anything.”

Shadow stepped inside carefully, closing the door behind him. He didn’t speak right away, giving you time to retreat to the edge of your bed. You sat with your head in your hands, your breaths uneven.

“I know how that feels,” he said quietly, moving to sit on the floor near you. “Sometimes the world feels too big. Like you can’t face it.”

Your fingers curled tighter into your hair. “It’s not just that,” you said, your voice cracking. “It’s… everything. It’s all wrong, and I can’t fix it. I’m just—” You stopped, choking back a sob.

“You’re overwhelmed,” Shadow finished for you, his voice steady. “That doesn’t make you weak.”

Your breathing hitched.

Shadow leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. “You’ve survived this long. That means you’re stronger than you think.”

His words weren’t flowery or overly comforting—they were simple, grounded in truth.

“Why do you care so much?” you asked, your voice raw.

“I told you before. I’ve been there,” he said without hesitation. “I know how lonely it feels. I’m not going to let somebody drown in it.”

Shadow stayed with you that night. He didn’t push you to talk, but he also didn’t leave. He tidied the room quietly, opened the curtains to let in the moonlight, and made sure you drank a glass of water before you finally lay down.

As you drifted off, his words lingered in your mind: You’re not alone.

For the first time in days, it felt like you weren’t.

[fuck-customers]

This one just made me giggle all day. This was about a month ago

"Thank you for calling Dr. [OB/gyn], how can I help you?"

*very masculine sounding voice but I didn't think anything of it. If you got the parts and need the care, we'll see you* "Hi I need to make an appointment for an extraction consultation"

*SUPER CONCERNED, because maybe this person is speaking in code. Maybe someone unsafe is listening and they're trying to tell me they need something without alerting someone nearby. Panic mode activated!* "Is it okay if I ask specific questions and you answer as best you can?"

"Yeah?"

"Okay, so if you mean (uterus-centered health procedure) say August and if you need (different procedure) say September. If you need something different, say October."

"Huh??? No, I don't need any of that! I'm a man!"

"Oh. Okay, uhh... I'm not sure how we can help with an 'extraction'. What exactly do you need, sir?"

"I got two molars that need to come out! My dentist said to call you!"

"Oh! Okay! Unfortunately, you called an Obstetrician. We can't help you with that. You need an orthodontist."

Poor guy went silent then hung up very quickly

Later in the week we found out there's a new doctor in our medical plaza a couple buildings over with a similar name. He's like Dr. John and our doctor is Dr. John-Jim. We went over there as an office later to trade info with them so we can send mixed-up calls back and forth.

Posted by admin Rodney

[foundtherightwords]

Fallen Empires - Chapter 5

Pairing: Geta x OFC

Summary: Having done the unthinkable to secure his throne, Emperor Geta rules with ruthlessness and paranoia. Now, after escaping an assassination attempt, a badly injured Geta is saved by Daphne, a young widow, who takes him back to her remote village without knowing his true identity. As Daphne nurses the former emperor back to health, attraction blooms between them, and Geta discovers a soft side he didn't know he possessed. But can their love survive his thirst for revenge and his desire to reclaim power?

Chapter warnings: domestic violence, physical abuse

Chapter word count: 3.7k

Prologue + Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Daphne watched her patient across the table. He was bending over two flat boards, gouging out a shallow square in each of their centers with a chisel she'd borrowed from her youngest brother, Mikkos, claiming she needed it to fix a window. Mikkos, ever the dutiful sibling, had offered to fix the window for her, but she insisted she could do it herself, saying she didn't want to take him away from his regular carpenter work. It was such a bad lie that she feared Mikkos might turn up anyway, but it looked like he believed her.

Romulus was trying to make a wax tablet. It had all started the other day, when Daphne came back from her usual rounds in the village to find out her goat, Amalthea, had broken into the garden and was contentedly munching on some of the seedlings she'd just planted. Daphne had given Amalthea a stern talking-to and planned to raise the garden wall so the goats couldn't jump over it—she didn't have to worry about Midas, who was a good boy and knew the garden was off-limit—but what really worried her was that she didn't know what Amalthea had eaten exactly. Some of the medicinal plants were poisonous or at least harmful to a goat, and the poison could pass into Amalthea's milk, harming the kids as well.

"Don't you remember what you've planted?" Romulus asked, when he heard her scold Amalthea.

"Well—yes, usually," she stammered. "But I've been busy taking care of you so I wasn't paying attention." She ran an irritated hand through her hair. "Time like this, I wish I knew how to read, so I can label my plants and medicines."

Romulus stared at her. "You don't know how to read?"

Now it was her turn to stare at him. "Of course not. Around here, one doesn't need letters to be shepherds." The only person in the village who knew how to read and write was the chief, Master Kavos, and even then, only enough to write down thei villagers' names in the tax roll. Daphne had always wanted to learn, but she knew she shouldn't get ideas above herself. She had once been courted by a scribe in the nearby town of Adala, and when she suggested to him that she should like to learn to read, he had only laughed at her, thinking it was a joke.

Thankfully, Amalthea was none the worse for wear, but Daphne had a stressful day watching the goat for signs of poisoning or bloating. That evening, over their meal, Romulus suggested casually, "I can teach you to read, if you want."

"Why?" Daphne asked warily.

"It'll be something to do," he said with a careless shrug.

In the end, Daphne had agreed. She could see no harm in it, and she rather liked the idea of having neat rows of labeled jars and jugs, like the apothecary's shop in Adala she often visited. And Romulus was right, it would be something to do in the long hours when it was too hot to work outside. He was still pushing himself too hard with his exercises, and often Daphne had to remind him to go into the shades and rest or he would have a sunstroke. He struck her as a restless sort of person; no doubt he was tired of being cooped up inside. This would give them both something to fill their time.

So now he was making a wax tablet for their lessons. She could tell he was not used to woodworking, as he held the tool awkwardly and his chiseling was uneven, but he seemed determined to get it done. He frowned over the chisel, sweat dripping down his forehead, the tip of his tongue poking out between his teeth. The expression contrasted with his usual scowl, giving him a rather childish look, and Daphne had to turn away to hide a grin.

She wondered why she kept him around for so long. It had been a month since she brought him back, half-dead, from the Balikh, and he had made a remarkable recovery. Perhaps not enough to walk all the way to Edessa, but certainly enough to leave on a cart or a wagon. Yet she kept putting off his departure, telling him—and herself—that something could happen to him on the road, that his wounds could open up again, that his fever could come back. She could never live with herself if she let her patient die from negligence. But other than professional pride, there was another reason she kept the soldier around, the same reason she'd saved him in the first place—for companionship.

In the years since she received the message that Galen was not coming back from Caledonia, and since she moved into the hut following her grandmother's death, Daphne had been on her own. Of course, the villagers were always around, but they never stayed for long. The only time Daphne had had a patient stay with her was when Ione, the little girl who lived on the next hill, broke her leg running down the hill after her father's goats. After Daphne had set the bone, the little girl had become so taken with Amalthea that she'd insisted on staying, and for the next three weeks, Daphne had had a rather chatty housemate who hobbled around, got underfoot, and made a mess of all her herbs and potions. Daphne had rather enjoyed it. Even now, whenever she had to leave the village for longer than a few days, she still entrusted the care of Amalthea and her kids to Ione.

It was hard being alone. It was the one thing that her grandmother, for all the wisdom she had imparted to Daphne, had failed to teach her. When she first moved into the hut, Daphne had thought she would enjoy it, after years of growing up with two younger brothers and never having a moment to herself. But the novelty had worn off quickly. Sometimes, on winter evenings, when dusk fell early over the hills, her own fire giving up little warmth, she would sit and watch the smoke from the huts down in the valley blend in with the gray clouds, feeling so lonely that she might even risk her father's wrath to come back to the village. But in the end, fear of her father always won out, and she remained in her hut, wondering how her grandmother had managed it all those years.

Now, it was a comfort to return to the hut after a long day to another person, who was waiting for her. It was a comfort to hear a voice other than her own and see another face across from the table during mealtimes. It was a comfort to fall asleep knowing there was another person just on the other side of the wall. A simple sort of comfort, perhaps, and it would not last, but she would take it for as long as she could.

One might say that an irascible, arrogant, and quarrelsome legionary did not make for a very good companion, but Daphne didn't mind. Had he been courteous and good-humored, had he asked for her help with politeness and accepted it gladly, it would have made her nervous, afraid that she would offend the noble patrician with her coarse peasant ways. His roughness put her at ease. It was simply that he, like most men, was used to having his every order followed and his every whim catered to. His undoubtedly high status only made it worse. She had had her fair share of men like him, men who insisted they were perfectly fine until the moment they tumbled over from pain. Patrician or plebeian, at the end of the day, they were all the same. She knew how to deal with them.

The only thing that bothered her was Romulus's reticence. After a month, she knew nothing about him except for his name, and that may not even be real. To all of her questions, he answered none and only gave questions of his own. He'd stopped making her taste his food and medicine, but she knew he still slept with his dagger under his pillow. Well, she couldn't blame him for being suspicious after having so narrowly escaped death. Who was she to judge anyway? She hadn't been exactly open with him either.

That day he walked around and got himself lost on the hillside, it had been on the tip of her tongue to tell him about Galen. When she turned around and saw him sitting at the door with his back to her, dressed in Galen's old tunic, for a heart-stopping moment, she'd thought he was Galen. They had the same build, sturdy and broad-shouldered, the same dark curls and eyes. The difference was that Galen had been quick to jest and to laugh, while Romulus was always scowling. But for some reason, she felt shy about mentioning Galen to Romulus, and so she had kept those memories to herself.

After the boards had been chiseled out, Daphne melted some beeswax and poured it into the hollows, while Romulus fashioned two styli out of twigs, and the lessons began. Daphne took to it with an enthusiasm she didn't know she possessed, and soon learned to write her name, the names of her animals, and the common names of the medicinal plants in her garden. Romulus seemed to enjoy the lessons as well, and she often caught him watching her with a curious expression, without his usual wariness. When they tired of the writing and reading lessons, Romulus made another board, marked off a series of squares on it with his knife, and gathered a handful of pebbles from outside—half of them black and the other half white—and placed each of them on a square. It was a Roman game called latrunculi, or draughts, he said, and proceeded to teach Daphne to play. In this, she proved to be a quick learner as well. Once she'd grasped the rules, it only took her five games to beat Romulus. This brought on another scowl, while Daphne laughed at him for being a sore loser.

With such occupations, the long, hot days of early summer went by quickly. Romulus seemed calmer, though he remained wary, watchful of every little movement outside the hut. One afternoon, Daphne was coming in from the garden with some vegetables. She had just stepped through the door when an arm yanked her into a corner and a hand clamped over her mouth, cutting off her half-formed scream. It took her a moment to realize it was Romulus, who was standing with his back against the wall. His eyes were enormous in the dimness of the hut, and sweat was pouring down his face. Daphne tried not to notice how tightly he was holding her, how his arm was circling her, pressing her back to his chest. He smelled of sweat and leather, and for a confused moment, she was reminded of evenings when she went to the edge of the pasture to meet Galen coming back with the goats. They had been courting then, though they had always known they would marry, so it wasn't as if Galen had to do anything to woo her. She would throw her arms around him and press her face into his neck, and he'd smelled just like this...

She twisted out of Romulus's arm and hissed through his fingers, "What in Hades are you doing?"

"Shh!" He held up his dagger, precariously close to her face. "There's a man coming up the path." His breath was hot against her ear.

"One of the villagers?"

"No. I've never seen him before. He looks shifty."

"Stop being so damned suspicious!" she snapped. "You haven't seen everybody from the village. Just go into the bedroom and let me see who it is."

Reluctantly, he lowered the knife and let her go. Once the bedroom door had closed behind him, Daphne picked up the vegetables that had fallen out of her basket and looked out the door to see who the mysterious visitor was.

Her stomach dropped. Staggering up the path was her father, Timon. His robe was disheveled—more disheveled than usual, his head bare, his face bruised. Each of his feet was having a very different idea of where it was going, and she could practically smell the wine on his breath from where she was.

Silently cursing, she went out to meet him.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

"Chaire to you too," said Timon, sounding friendly for once. "You're looking well, daughter."

Her guard was instantly up. Whenever her father was being nice, it was because he wanted something. She eyed his bruises and had a pretty good guess what it was he was after. She asked anyway. "What do you want?"

"Can't I just visit and see how you're doing?" He sat down by the front door and looked up at her with bleary eyes. "Your mother misses you. When was the last time you came to see us?"

"I just saw Mother the other day," she said coldly. She wished he would just get on with it and leave.

Timon peered into the hut. Daphne followed his gaze warily, hoping Romulus hadn't left the wax tablet or the latrunculi board lying around. She knew her father would come down on her with all the wrath of Zeus if he found a man living with her. There were two cups on the table, but thankfully, Timon didn't seem to notice.

"Looks like you're doing well," he said. "Lots of patients, lots of coins..."

"What coin? When have you ever seen any coin around here?"

"I don't need much." And there it was. She knew it had to come out sooner or later. "Just a few coins to tie me over." Always the same. If she had saved all the coins she'd given her father "to tie him over" throughout the years, she would've been rich by now.

Daphne sighed. "How much do you owe?"

"Ten drachmae," said Timon. Daphne groaned inwardly. Ten drachmae was a large sum even by the standard of a sizeable town, where a man could subsist on half a drachma a day; here in their village, where they lived by bartering and some had never seen so much as an obol, it was practically a fortune. "Those snakes at the nomad camp tricked me!" her father snarled. "They said it was just one game, for fun, and before I knew it, they've taken everything I got! It wasn't my fault!"

"It's never your fault, is it?" Daphne snapped. "Mother and Mikkos work their fingers to the bone, and Attikos sends home everything he can, but it's never enough for you, because you insist on falling in with every low-life and criminal you come across!"

"You're one to talk!" Timon stood up, and Daphne had to turn her face away from his wine-sour breath. "You'd never have this place if it wasn't for me! And here you are, living in the lap of luxury, while your family starves!"

Daphne grimaced. Her father's drunken insults were nothing new, but they never stopped grating. He made it sound like she was dining on roast mutton and fresh fish every night. "Go home," she said. "I have nothing for you."

"We'll see about that!" said her father. He stormed into the hut and started going through her herbs and potions, searching for where she might have hidden some money. Jars clattered to the ground. They didn't break on the soft earthen floor, but their contents spilled out, leaves and roots scattering everywhere. Daphne trembled in terror, not of her father's wrath, but of him opening her bedroom. If he burst upon the knife-wielding Romulus, it would be catastrophic.

"Stop it!" she shouted, trying to shove him outside.

"Perhaps I ought to take your goats," Timon said, staggering out the door. "Or that donkey. They should fetch a pretty sum."

"No!" Daphne went cold all over. Knowing her father, her animals would end up at the butcher's right away. She grabbed the back of Timon's robe, and he went sprawling on the ground.

"Is this how you treat your father, you ungrateful whore?" he slurred, scrambling to his feet.

"I will treat you as a father when you start acting like a father!" she shot back.

This earned her a backhanded slap across her face. Timon was so drunk that it didn't hurt much, yet Daphne could feel hot blood dripping down her cheek. Putting her fingers up, she realized the slap had caused the cut on her cheek to open again. She glared at her father. This was routine for him. Once he failed to appeal to her sense of filial duty, he would resort to violence. It had always been the same way in their family, even when she was a child. When one of them didn't do what he wanted, he would hit their mother or one of the children until they submitted to his will. Her grandmother had been the only one standing between them and Timon's beating, and it was only after she took on her grandmother's mantle that Daphne found the strength to start standing up to him. In fact, Daphne was surprised her father had made the trip up here himself. Usually, he would force her mother to go in his stead, knowing Daphne could never refuse her mother anything. Perhaps this time he had realized, and rightly so, that her mother's bruised and battered face would only infuriate Daphne and get him nowhere.

Daphne pressed a corner of her stole to her cheek. If there had only been herself, she would have fought harder to drive her father away. But she wasn't alone. No doubt Romulus had heard their struggle. She had to get her father out of the hut before Romulus became even more agitated and did something foolish.

Going back inside, she gathered up some amphorae of wine that she'd just picked up from the village, a payment for curing a shepherd of his toothache. She dumped them into a basket and pressed the lot into her father's arms. "Here," she said. "It's the only thing I have that is worth something. Take it. Treat your gambling pals to a drink and maybe they'll give you an extension on your debt. Or you can drown in it for all I care."

Timon raised his hand again, but this time Daphne had foreseen his intention and ducked. Losing his balance, her father had to hold on to a boulder to keep from falling over. It took the fight out of him, and he took the basket from her with a brightening face.

"You're a good girl, Daphne," he said as if nothing had happened. "I know you'll take care of us." He reached out to pat her cheek. She flinched away. "Speaking of which, have you given Izkur's proposal another thought? He's very keen, you know."

"No," she said, trying to keep calm. "I've told you, I'm not going to marry again, and certainly not to that old lecher. Go home now. And try to stay out of trouble this time," she added, knowing it wouldn't happen.

Daphne watched until his stumbling figure disappeared down the path, before returning to the hut. She was cleaning the blood off her face when Romulus emerged from the bedroom, still holding his dagger.

"That was your father?" he asked.

She sighed. "Unfortunately, yes."

"You've never mentioned him."

"What's there to mention?" she said with a shrug. "He's the terror of the village. If it wasn't for my grandmother, our whole family would've been driven out of this place years ago because of him."

"Is that why you insist that I hide?"

"Yes. I would not have him accuse me of misconduct." She didn't say that the secrecy was for her father's protection as much as hers and Romulus's. Then suddenly she realized what she was implying by "misconduct", and her cheeks grew hot even as the pain from the cut subsided. Romulus didn't seem to notice.

"What did he mean when he said you wouldn't have this place if it wasn't for him?" he continued.

Daphne wrung out the bloody cloth and hung it up. "This was my grandmother's place," she explained. "She left it to me on her deathbed, even though I can't inherit. My father is her only son, so it should've gone to him. But I convinced him to let me stay here and continue my grandmother's work."

Romulus was quiet for a moment. "I have some money," he said. "You could've given it to him."

"I'll not touch your money!" She had seen the pouch on his belt since the first day and heard the clink of coins inside it, but had refused to even open it on principle. Then she added, in a softer voice, so he wouldn't think her ungrateful. "Besides, it wouldn't be enough. It would never be enough for my father."

Romulus looked at her strangely. She turned away, not wanting him to see the bruise forming on her cheek, and started gathering up the spilled jars.

"My father—" Romulus began.

Daphne turned back to him with interest, for this was the first time he had ever mentioned anything relating to his personal life. Only whatever it was he had to say seemed stuck in his throat. She waited, but he closed his mouth again. With a sigh, Daphne returned her attention to the jars.

Without another word, Romulus put the dagger away, got down on his knees, and helped her.

"Thank you," she said with a smile, as he handed her a jar.

Her smile seemed to startle him. And then, slowly, hesitantly, a corner of his mouth lifted in return. It was the first smile she'd ever seen from him, and brief though it was, it still lit up his face and wiped away his scowl. It made him look younger and friendlier, and Daphne no longer wondered why she kept him around.

Chapter 6

As you may know, in the "Gladiator II" script, there is a deleted line that reveals Geta and Caracalla's father was abusive. While this has no basis in history (same as much of the movie), it does align nicely with what I already had written about Daphne's own abusive father, so I had to add a little moment between Daphne and Geta as a nod to that. I'd like to think that Geta's childhood trauma made him more sympathetic toward Daphne, though he may not be ready to admit that yet.

Taglist: @sheneedsrocknroll92, @justnobodynothingmore, @barcelonaloverf1life, @myotakureprieve, @flawssy-227, @itsrainingbisexualfrogs (if you want to be tagged or removed, let me know!)

[lokisprettygirl]

Rain to his Fire (Modern! Daemon Targaryen x Female Reader) (Non Canon 80s Au) (18+)

Series Masterlist

Chapter 1

Summary: In 1985, you were assigned as a custodian in the King's Landing Psychiatric inpatient and wellness center after your mother's passing. Your job was mundane and boring, but that was until a new patient arrived, a young man with a wild and eccentric personality, harbouring a secret that will change your life forever.

Warning: 18+, discussion of mental health (it's a fic based in a mental health facility), the fic would contain several mentions of several disorders like mpd, did etc, if something triggers you don't read, smoking.

“Room 393 needs cleaning up, new guy is coming” you heard your supervisor Mona so you sighed and quickly nodded. Working as a custodian in a mental health facility wasn't ever really a dream job for you but you didn't have any option at the moment. Your mother had worked all her life for the center and when she passed, as per her request beforehand, the job was immediately offered to you, and you had debts to pay so you couldn't really deny that offer.

At thirty you didn't really see your life heading towards anything better anyways and you didn't really despise working here. Helping people feel good at times. Your job wasn't limited to cleaning services, you would often get assigned to patients who needed a caregiver for physical and emotional needs.

King's landing psychiatric inpatient and wellness center was a six floor building at the outskirts of London, it was established in 1955 and your mother had started her job the same year, it's been thirty years now and two years since she had passed, she was living nearby because she was married and had a child, you on other hand didn't want to travel back n forth so you chose to live here itself as a permanent live in staff of the wellness center.

You were accustomed to seeing patients coming in for various disorders, most were delusional at worst or suffered from some sort of dysphoria. However, the patients at the King's Landing Wellness Center were not usually considered dangerous and you had never felt threatened by any one of them except a few women who lashed out at you and pushed you around last year. But with time, you had learned to provide them with the care and attention they needed instead of judging them for the outburst.

“Are you listening y/n?” You snapped back to reality as Mona called your name and gathered your cleaning cart to go fix room 393, there was this girl that had just gotten released from the facility, Tanya, she was a shy, quiet girl in her mid twenties with a debilitating case of multiple personality disorder.

You mostly kept to yourself at the facility as you didn't want to get involved or too overly attached with the patients.

The moment you took the mattress off to deep clean the bed, you discovered a piece of paper underneath. Curiosity got the better of you, and you decided to open it. Once you saw the writing on the paper, a feeling of unease coursed through your body, the words seemed almost ominous

“They are going to hurt me. I know, I'll never get out of here, if you find this please make sure to check up on me please”

You sighed before you folded the paper and placed it inside your apron quickly before it would get lost. What did she mean you wondered? The centre was under the supervision of three doctors. Doctor Vis was a man in his early forties and he was the most feared of all three because of his unorthodox methods of treatment but the other two doctors, Lisa and Darren seemed more approachable.

As you made your way out of room 393, you saw Doctor Vis standing in the hallway, having a conversation with another man. The other man stood with his back against the wall while Doctor Vis stood uncomfortably close to him, he was handcuffed so you assumed that he was being aggressive in his therapy session, as you walked past them you looked at the man briefly and normally you'd have looked away but this time you couldn't for some reason, he had a shiny silver hair that you had never really seen on a man before and it caught your eye immediately. The uniform he had on wasn't a surprise as it was a dress code for the patients, a white shirt and same coloured trousers.

His eyes met yours briefly and he smirked so you looked away immediately ,

“You didn't tell me you hired such beautiful chicks around here to be your servant-” Daemon had barely finished his sentence before Vis grabbed his collar to warn him. Vis looked as you walked past them and turned to make left into the hallway, disappearing out of their sight.

“Don't make this more difficult than it already is you moron”

Dr. Vis escorted Daemon into the room where he was immediately uncuffed. With the doctor now gone, Daemon let out an angry roar before throwing the chair into the room's window, shattering it into pieces.

“New guy is here” you mumbled as you reached the canteen. The rest of the staff members, including those from the pantry and cleaning services, were already gathered at the table. Shyla, who was the same age as you approached you. But in contrast to you, Shyla appeared to have a backup plan in mind after her tenure here.

“Oh god have you guys seen him, he's really hotttt in a really weird way”

You gulped as she said that, she always lived on the edge, it was unprofessional and unethical to talk about patients this way. Besides, he wasn't hot at all.

“Cut out with the heart eyes girl he must be a cuckoo to be here”

Another woman, Dina , intervened as she whispered very quietly, you didn't appreciate her language but then she wasn't wrong, sane people didn't come here.

“Hey y/n, new patient broke the window in 393, clean it up”

Mona suddenly entered the canteen so you sighed but then you were left feeling confused.

“How did he break it? Those windows are supposed to be unbreakable” you asked her curiously as the windows in the patient's room were specifically designed to withstand extreme conditions and were built to be unbreakable for security reasons.

“Don't question what's and how's, do your job girl” she glared at you so you picked up your cleaning cart again.

As you entered room 393, you spotted the new patient on the bed, seemingly engrossed in a book. Your brow furrowed as you took in the sight of the debris of shattered glass scattered around the room. Quickly, you grabbed a broom and began the cleaning process, starting from the corners to ensure that you picked up every last shard. As you swept, you couldn't help but feel puzzled as to how the window was broken in the first place,

“You shouldn't be doing such things, they are not afraid of sending violent patients to the lone ward” you mumbled so he looked up from his book and then glanced at you from top to bottom before he let out a snicker.

“Awnnn do you get paid to offer advice around here or cleaning is your only area of expertise?”

You glared at him as he said that but you remained calm, you couldn't raise your voice with patients even though you had been wanting to do it for a long while now.

“Sir im just-” you cringed internally as you addressed him as sir, it wasn't a norm but then you didn't really know his name yet. He had changed out of his uniform so you couldn't even read the name tag.

“Do your fucking job girl and get out”

You cut back on your words as he spoke rudely to you, perhaps he was admitted for extreme anger issues, whatever it was you just wanted to get out and not see him at least for a day.

You missed Tanya, she was a sweet girl, and you hadn't forgotten the note you had found under her bed this morning but then she wasn't exactly stable in her mind, people often scribbled down their most intrusive thoughts in their free time, and there was abundance of that around here. Besides you had bid her goodbye, she had hugged you warmly and she seemed happier for once.

During the lunch service you saw his smug face again as he sat down in the corner of the cafeteria, his eyes met with yours and he gave you a small smile but you didn't return it. Though you didn't want to take his words personally, he was dealing with something and that's why he was here.

“Mrs Rodriguez, are you finished with your food?” You asked the elderly lady so she snapped out of her thoughts and nodded but as you raised your hand forward to pick up her plate she grabbed your hand,

“Simon thinks i should eat less” she mumbled almost fearfully and your heart clenched for her, Simon was merely a figment of her imagination.

“Well he's wrong because you are eating as much as you should” she let go of your hand and smiled as you said that to her. When you reached around his table you noticed that he hadn't even touched his food,

“Are you going to eat sir? Your half an hour is almost over” you asked him so he chuckled. New patients in the center had strict rules and regulations to follow during the beginning of their treatment.

“Who should I be asking around here for a smoke?” He asked you and your brows furrowed.

“That's not allowed, i will help you with a nicotine patch if you're feeling restless -” he rolled his eyes as you said that.

“I don't need that shit” he grumbled under his breath so you looked at the time. Looking at him you couldn't really tell what actually was wrong with him, well besides the anger issues obviously, he seemed almost normal, almost self aware which really wasn't usual around this place.

“Please finish your food, dinner service is around 8 and a man of your size won't get any nutrition from the snacks we offer during tea time” you spoke a bit sternly and the corner of his mouth curved into a small smile.

“What's your name y/n?” He asked you so you looked at him baffled, he clearly read your name on the badge and he said it as well.

“I don't know your name either” you mumbled politely so he gave you a smile

“Daemon”

“Have an easy day Mr. Daemon, first few days are always difficult” you ultimately grabbed his plate as you left because he didn't seem to be in any mood to eat at the time.

Around evening as you finished your shift you made your way to your room at the fourth floor to take a shower and relax a bit. You took out the note you had found under Tanya's bed and placed it inside your cupboard safely, a part of you continued to feel uneasy about this thing, another was thinking about Daemon.

Why was he there? What had he done? You were not allowed to enquire about these things unless or until you were told the information by the authorities.

Daemon couldn't really sleep at night, how could he? He was locked up in here and was being treated as if he was crazy but he knew what he was and he wasn't delusional about it either. Even as sleep came for him he had a horrible nightmare that had him tossing and turning in his bed again so he woke up and stepped out of his room quietly as the room was starting to suffocate him. That's when he found the window at the end of the corridor and that was all he needed.

Around 2 at night, you were enjoying a peaceful moment to yourself on the terrace of the building, taking a break with a cigarette. As you were absorbed in your own thoughts, you heard a loud thud sound from behind you. Startled, you jumped and quickly turned around, only to find the new patient, Daemon, standing there. You couldn't believe how he had gotten there, he didn't have the key to the door and you clearly remembered locking it when you had gotten in. The terrace was strictly off-limits to patients for obvious reasons.

“What..are you doing here, you can't be here mister” you almost sounded frantic and kind of scared to be honest. And why didn't he have a shirt on? It was freaking cold out here. And why was he so freaking ripped?

“Hooking me up with a bloody nicotine patch when you got this sweet thing right here?” he asked you as he approached you so you took a few steps behind you until you had hit the ledge. You quickly threw the cigarette butt on the ground and crushed it under your flip flops before he could attempt to steal it from you.

“Now that's a waste of a good cigarette” he almost seemed offended with his brows furrowed and scowl on his face.

“Look, don't come near me alright?” You warned him so he crossed his arms and stepped closer to you despite your warning.

“I'm not going to harm you, I can, don't get me wrong.. but I won't”

Was that supposed to make you feel better?

“Please come with me, let me take you to your room .. please”

As he heard your gentle voice his teeth gritted together. “Please just listen to me ..it's only best for you” You brought your arm forward to grab his forearm but you flinched away as soon as you had touched his skin.

“Are you sick? You're burning like a furnace” You asked him worriedly so he scratched his scalp before he looked around and took a deep breath “And how did you get here?”

“I'm not sick, do I look sick to you?” He asked you so you shook your head but that was pointless, if he was a regular smoker, perhaps he was feeling the withdrawal.

“Just one puff, I'll be indebted to you forever darling, please, what do you want me to do beg? I can beg on my knees .You want that?..”

“Ohhh shut up for god's sake -” You cut him off mid sentence as he started to ramble but the stupid smirk on his face was still there. “I'll lose my job Daemon -”

“Nobody will know”

“I can't do it.. please understand please..”

He sighed and the pleading look on your face made him willing to listen to you ultimately.

How did he even come up here? You had come via the main entrance and it was locked from inside. As you escorted him back to his room, you mumbled a quick good night but he suddenly grabbed you by the shoulders and pushed you against the door, your heart was right into your mouth at the moment for several different reasons, you had been pushed over by several women at the facility but never a man, especially not a man like him who seemed so strong and so unstable. If worse comes to worse you knew you wouldn't be able to defend yourself.

“Daemon let go of me” you mumbled sternly but his hands were on your upper arms, holding you tightly still. He wasn't hurting you, not yet at least.

“Shhhhh shhh shhhh” as he whispered in your ear you were going to scream but nothing came out of your throat, not even a squeak, you feared that he was going to touch you inappropriately, if this wasn't inappropriate as it was, but then he placed his nose on the crook of your neck and took a sniff. Like a wild animal he sniffed you, literally.

One sniff, two sniff, and then one two three at once, you couldn't help but wonder why you weren't feeling as uncomfortable as you should have in a similar situation.

“What are you doing?” You asked him gently to not aggregate him so he looked you right in the eyes before he cupped your cheeks and stared at your lips, his nose rubbed slightly against yours before he closed his eyes, grunted a little and finally stepped away from you. His chest was heaving from breathlessness, same as yours as you both stared at each other for a moment. What the hell was that?

“Get out lady”

He mumbled so you immediately got the fuck out of there, you were looking behind every step of the way to see if he was following you but he wasn't. At the end of the corridor you stopped as suddenly, your feet came in contact with a piece of fabric on the floor, and when you bent down to investigate, you realized it was Daemon's shirt but it was completely shredded in several pieces - the same shirt he had worn this evening.

The realization left you feeling even more puzzled and disoriented. How had he managed to enter the terrace when it was locked from the outside. It seemed impossible. It was impossible. Or perhaps there was another way? Or maybe you were going crazy yourself? Now that was possible.

As your head hit your pillow you ran your fingers over your neck, right where he was sniffing, he seemed so...so primal in that moment, so animalistic, if that was the right choice of word. Did you atleast smell good? God you hoped so. Or not. He was a patient, you had to keep that in mind, he had issues.

The next morning while Daemon was away for his therapy session with the doctors you decided to clean up his room, he had left you feeling a bit unnerved last night with his strange behavior but you weren't really scared of him and then you wondered why you weren't scared of him after what he had done.

The iron bars on his window were the first thing you had noticed as you had entered the room. As you heard loud footsteps approaching the room you quickly collected your stuff to prepare to leave.

As Dr. Vis entered with Daemon he looked at you and spoke politely “Will you please step out ?” Vis asked you so you nodded immediately.

“Yes doctor, I'm almost done” you grabbed your cart and walked past them, your eyes met with Daemon and he seemed angry, but also really sad? His eyes were read and teary, such a contrast from his snarky demeanor yesterday.

As the door slammed shut, you found yourself in a state of morbid curiosity. So instead of minding your own business as you should have, you pressed your ear against the door instead, hoping to catch a glimpse of what was going on inside. Why did he look so sad?

“You had promised you wouldn't start with the absurdity right off the bat” Dr. Vis yelled at Daemon and that bothered you. Why was he yelling at a patient like this on his second day?

“Absurdity? You think me speaking of my true self is absurd?” Daemon asked the doctor and you didn't understand what was happening, what was he suffering from?

Dazed and confused as you reached the staff area Shyla walked around the table with a smirk on her face so you finally gave in.

“What?”

As you asked her she slammed her hands on the table in a dramatic manner.

“I found out why the new guy is here”

You weren't the one to gossip but you really wanted to know why Daemon was there? Why was he here? What was hurting him?

“How did you find out?” You asked her to seem disinterested as you didn't want to make your interest apparent.

“I have my source girl” she patted herself on shoulders so you crossed your arms together.

“Uhuh and what did your source tell you?”

“Well you're not ready for this-"

“Just spill it already” you chuckled as you spoke but the way she was stalling had only gotten you more curious.

“He thinks..now listen to this..he thinks he's a dragon” she mumbled excitedly so you stared at her all perplexed.

“What?”

“The new guy believes that he's a human dragon hybrid or something like that.. unbelievable right?”

Oh well!! That was a big problem huh.

👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀

[ahmadismaeel]

@90-ghost @el-shab-hussein @sayruq @nabulsi @neptunerings @flower-tea-fairies @appsa @a-shade-of-blue @sar-soor @moayesh @commissions4aid-international @paper-mario-wiki @dlxxv-vetted-donations @gaza-evacuation-funds @writerqueenofjewels @the-ballerina-battle @riding-with-the-wild-hunt @just-browsing1222 @girlinafairytale @khanger @magnus-rhymes-with-swagness @maoistyuri @dykesbat @acepumpkinpatrick @thetownwecallhome @tsaricides @feluka @brutaliakhoa @kordeliiius @queerstudiesnatural @the-bastard-king @aria-ashryver @malcriada @vakarians-babe @bat-luun @mangocheesecakes @violetlyra @nightowlssleep @self-hating-zionist @staretes @friendshapedplant @yokohama-crackhouse @omiteo777

Hi! I'm Ahmad Ismail Alhabil, 24 years old. I have a family of 8 members. I'm from Gaza but I've got displaced so many times from Gaza to many cities in Gaza Strip.

Actually I've left my home in the first week of the war cos of bombardments in my neighborhood. I've gone to UNRWA health center as a shelter for a month. During this month I've lost my dear dad, he has got killed cos of nearby bombardment while he was shopping. I've become responsible for my family even though I've lost my work.

In brief, this ongoing war hasn't just taken our lives but it has taken our souls, our happiness, our safety, our peace of mind, our quiet great life, everything!!!

Nowadays I live in nightmares, hoping this ongoing war finishes. We have no water, no money, no electricity, no shelter, no home which has been destroyed, no healthy place, no source of money, no health care. The life became extremely hard!!!

We live very hard circumstances. Unfortunately, we live in an unhealthy place full of diseases. We live in a tent which doesn't protect us from sunshines. We have children in this tent who can't bear this very hot place. That's the terrible place we live in.

Every time I wake up from my dream, I suddenly find it hasn't finished yet.

So please donate helping us alleviate these very hard circumstances. Please donate to help our little children.

Your donation helps us.

[im-his-druidess]

For anybody wondering Smith's Grove Sanitarium is the mental health facility and detainment center for the criminally insane in the film Halloween!

(22. Omega goes to an Alpha and clings on them to get away from another creepy Alpha/Beta. & 24. “My ex-boyfriend is here, please scent me before he tries to do something.”)

"'Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world...,'" you muttered, eyeing the man swaggering around the cafeteria as if he owned it.

It was your ex, someone you never thought you would see again after a tumultuous relationship and an even more volatile breakup, and yet here he was. In the same institute you were currently locked in. You would have laughed in any other circumstance, seeing him incarcerated at Smith’s Grove, but it was hard to find amusement when you were in the same building as him. Also, it was hard to laugh through the sudden surge of sheer panic rushing through you at the sight of him. Clutching your food tray until your knuckles turned white you cast your eyes around wildly. Usually people gravitated towards their own dynamic, Omegas huddled together far away from the group of loudly talking Alphas and the few Betas sprinkled amongst the remaining tables talking normally and without care.

Your ex, an Alpha that liked to puff out his chest to appear bigger than he was and bully those he deemed weaker, was busy stealing food from a smaller Alpha and laughing. Anger burned in the back of your throat at the display, but it was quickly replaced by terror when his eyes met yours from across the room.

His look of shock was quickly replaced by a wide grin full of nothing but malice.

You trembled at the sudden phantom echo of his screaming in your head, his venomous degrading words hurting worse than any slap he ever delivered, and you felt the urge to curl up into a ball. You spun on your heel and began weaving through the lunch crowd when he stood from his seat. There was a guard chatting happily with the lunch lady and you knew he probably wouldn’t do much to protect you if you approached him. Your flitting gaze searched through the sea of issued white scrubs, eyes burning at all the white clothes against the white walls and white tile floors, before landing on a spot of bright orange at the back corner.

Seated alone at a table, chaperoned by a tense guard standing a few feet away, was the Sanitarium’s most known and feared patient. Michael Myers sat with slightly drooped broad shoulders, a paper mâché mask that looked a bit like a jack-o-lantern placed over his face with his long dirty blond hair hanging in front of his masked face like a curtain, and he was eating lazily with his head tilted towards the table. Everyone knew who he was, throwing glances his way and whispering to each other, and you remembered how you nearly fainted from fright the first time the murderous behemoth shuffled past you in the halls. He didn’t say or do anything in particular that frightened you, he didn’t even look at you, but his sheer presence made your inner Omega howl at the feeling of a predator so close.

Not only was the man huge and stacked with muscles that made you gape like a fish out of water, but he was an Alpha.

Even with the mandatory scent suppressants you could still catch the natural spice of an Alpha. Immediately, an idea popped in your head, and you didn’t even give yourself a second to fully think about it before you beelined for his table.

Out of the corner of your eye you could see your ex following you and you all but flung yourself into the empty seat beside Michael Myers. Instantly all the chatter in the room stopped, all eyes swung to you, and the guard nearby paled.

Michael continued to eat.

You felt a small sense of relief wash over you as the man’s body heat seeped into your suddenly freezing body, his spicy scent tingling your nose, and his broad shoulders blocked out most of the stunned crowd. You tried to continue as if this was a perfectly natural thing to do, unraveling your plastic spoon from its napkin before scooping up a helping of mashed potatoes, and you forced your trembling hand to still before you accidently dropped your spoonful. A wave of whispers suddenly rushed through the room and you saw your ex stop and linger a few tables away. You glanced over at the giant man beside you, noting that what you could see of his blue eyes were still trained on his tray in front of him, and you couldn’t help but notice how comically small and fragile his spoon looked in his large hand.

Feeling a need to justify yourself for sitting so close to him you leaned a bit closer to whisper to him in a voice that only he could hear.

“My ex-boyfriend is here, please scent me before he tries to do something,” you said in a rush, shifting nervously in the hard chair at the sight of your ex still too close for comfort, before staring wide-eyed as Michael’s mechanical movements slowed slightly at your words.

You knew that he heard you and you suddenly wondered if you were going to meet a gruesome end by way of plastic utensil. You saw his head tilt minutely, eyes still trained on his food, but you could hear a small huff of breath beneath his mask that you otherwise wouldn’t have heard if you weren’t so close to him. It took you a few moments to realize that he was subtly scenting you. You fought the urge to shiver at the discovery of him breathing you in.

Your eyes dropped to his plate and another idea struck you.

He was picking around his food, avoiding the mushy peas and soggy carrots that was served and focusing on the mashed potatoes and bits of shredded chicken slathered in gravy, and you spotted the pudding container that was served as dessert. The chocolate pudding cup was completely empty, virtually scraped clean, and you came to the amusing realization that he had eaten his dessert first. With a deep breath you grabbed your own pudding cup and placed it near his tray.

A peace offering or a bribe you weren’t entirely sure.

His movements slowed even more and you pretended everything was normal about your interaction with the man by shoving another spoonful of potatoes in your mouth. It tasted like ash and settled in your stomach like lead, but you forced yourself to appear as normal as possible. You spotted your ex taking a few hesitant steps closer, making you subconsciously sink further against Michael until your arm brushed his side, and you nearly leapt out of your skin when a heavy overly warm hand landed on the back of your neck.

In a quick move you didn’t see he had placed his hand on the back of your neck, grip loose and almost lazy, but the possessive hold was as obvious as if he stood and shouted in the now tense cafeteria.

‘Mine’.

The guard fidgeted nervously with the taser on his belt, the crowd falling deathly silent at the uncharacteristic movement of the infamous killer, and you forced yourself not to go absolutely rigid at the unexpected touch. You noticed that your ex had paled, the malice on his face dropping to an expression of fear, before he scampered back towards his original table.

You could perfectly visualize a tail between his legs as he retreated.

Your entire body relaxed at the threat leaving you alone and you swore you felt those long fingers twitch against your neck before they pulled away. He snagged your offered pudding cup and you smiled. Looks like you both had come to an agreement and, despite sitting next to the most dangerous man in the entire building, you felt yourself relax.

[kimingyuslover]

SUNG HANBIN FIC RECS

boys like u! by @seosracha (smau, idol!au, fluff, drama)

synopsis- getting invited on an idol reality show where two groups have to live with each-other for a month seemed.. awful. but at least you got to bond with your long time crush and fellow leader over taking care of your own grown ass members?

only one by @juyomiao (smau, high school au, fluff, crack, some angst, is 'clueless idiots who dont realize their feelings are reciprocated' a genre ? i hope so)

☆ SYNOPSIS: sung hanbin is everyone's dream guy: perfect grades, perfect looks, perfect personality, he has it all. he's even class AND student council president! everyone loves him, and you, as his vice-president, are no exception to that. having been in love with him since you were 12, you try to tone down your feelings "for the sake of professionalism" and claim it's simple admiration for someone who objectively has no flaws. but there is one small detail you missed, in all these years admiring him: he has an even bigger crush on you.

cupid's arrow by @foryiujeans (fluff)

synopsis. a wall full of hearts and arrows written by mysterious cupids of ships around the school, what happens seeing your name with a certain someone?

unapproachable by @harunade (one sided enemies to lovers, only one bed trope)

falling in love with live by @taeraemisu (angst, grim reaper!hanbin, death x life, deaths, not sure if it should count but i read the book thief a couple of years ago and i am not so sure if you can consider this to be inspired by that)

synopsis ; grim reaper hanbin always appears at one’s last moment. that’s just who he is. he never wondered on how it’s like to be alive. but after certain few deaths in a row, he notices how the reader is always nearby, as if they are a sign of death too. curious, he starts to observe you. but what happens when he starts to wonder on how it feels to be alive?

can you hear me? by @taeraemisu (somewhat soulmates au, fluff but angst, different universes, the classic you-can-hear-your-soulmates-voice-in-your-head au)

synopsis ; in which reader thought they were crazy when they start to heart a certain voice in their head, finding out their soulmate is universes away from them.

blooming day by @zerobaseonefics (smau, college au, fluff, my broken sense of humor, mf who just wants to sell flower x mf who can't accept rejection to lovers ig.)

synopsis . . . never in his life hanbin would have expected to be rejected by anyone or anything. so, the day you rejected him with flowers, asking him to pay 12$ for the said rejection, he kind of lost it. alternatively, sung hanbin trying to make you fall in love with him after you broke his heart (and his perfect love record).

The follow-up assignment by @zellypop (fluff, romance, college, social media)

SYNOPSIS During a late-night rehearsal for the upcoming music club concert, Sung Hanbin twists his ankle and is rushed to the university health center. Intern nurse on duty Y/N breaks the bad news to him that his ankle is severely sprained. She advises him to rest up for a few weeks, however, things may not be so simple as the follow-up of his condition could become a graded assignment for Y/N.

[theivorybilledwoodpecker]

I was exactly halfway into my second pregnancy, and up until that point, we were so ecstatic to be expecting again — a baby we’d been praying for. We kept talking about and imagining the joy it would be to bring our new baby home to meet our 2-year-old daughter. But at my 20-week ultrasound, a day that is supposed to be full of excitement and awe, we received devastating news. Our baby, a second daughter, had many severe and insurmountable skeletal and organ issues. Fetal specialists told us that it was extremely unlikely she could survive because all her major organ systems had significant development issues. We were blindsided and heartbroken, and yet somehow clear-minded. We chose to do what we believed was best for our unborn daughter as well as for our family; because that is what you do as parents. And we saw the choice we ultimately made as an act of love for her. We respect and honor that other parents have chosen — and will continue to choose — the only other option our doctor suggested to us — to let the pregnancy take its natural course and provide specialist or palliative care as needed. And that is the point. Individuals and their families — no matter where they happen to live — must be able to make the best choice for them. They need to be free to choose their own act of love. I believe now more than ever that anyone’s reason for seeking an abortion is valid. Who are we to say it isn’t? What we didn’t know when we made our decision was that in addition to being so difficult emotionally, it would be made so much worse by the abortion bans recently enacted in Idaho. Because of these cruel laws, my Idaho doctors could not provide me with an abortion — something they could easily have done before Roe v. Wade was overturned — in my own community supported by family and friends. We had to spend the following days cold-calling countless clinics in nearby states where abortion is still legal, but found out that because of all the other new abortion bans in states across the country, many clinics had closed, most had no open appointments for several weeks, and still others considered my pregnancy, at 20 weeks, too far along for me to receive care. The thought of waiting out this pregnancy, possibly for weeks, or however long, while trying to get through the day working as a chiropractor and still being active and present for our toddler was more than I could handle. All I could think about was whether the daughter I was carrying was already suffering; my anxiety and sadness were overwhelming. We both felt hopeless and heartbroken until we reached a Seattle clinic with a last-minute cancellation. Although relieved, there was so much we had to do to get there in the haze of our grief. There were flights to make, hotels to book, a car to rent and medical care our health insurance would not cover because we were going out of state to access and receive it. One of the most tragic — and degrading — parts of our situation was knowing that people in my home state of Idaho believe this is acceptable, denying me bodily autonomy. We will always be grateful to the clinic and team in Seattle for offering us professional, compassionate care. I am a person of faith and for months after my abortion, I kept telling Brandon there had to be something positive that would come out of this experience. Several months later, I learned that the Center for Reproductive Rights was putting together a challenge to Idaho’s abortion laws, and I knew immediately that moving forward as a plaintiff in the case was something I had to do. I’m proud to be one of the many women and doctors challenging and broadening these laws. Physicians in Idaho must have greater discretion over when abortion exceptions are warranted, and the decision should be the patient’s in consultation with their doctors.

[amiaimpxct]

VENTURE.

*+.~ Jiaoqiu x reader

cw: angsty, some kind of comfort, spoilers for luofu quest idk

“Where is he…”

You’ve never felt this much rage, anger, or devastation before; your hands were balled into fists, nearly tearing out the sides of your clothes.

“He’s in the infirmary.”

You nod curly before heading off, eyes lowered as you sprint as fast as you can to the health center.

Usually, Jiaoqiu would be the one working at the health center, on a good day. Today was far from a good day.

You burst through the door, pushing past some of the nurses as you find the room that housed the pink foxian. You take deep breaths as you lock eyes with the well-known Healer Lady and Moze. They say no words as they part the way for you to enter.

“…Jiaoqiu…” You mutter under your breath, scanning over his still body, his breath uneven yet still present.

Numerous scars and cuts littered over his body, dried blood painting his torn shirt in blotches, while a white bandage was placed over his eyes, splotched with blood red.

You hold a hand to your chest, your heartbeat threatening to jump out of your body as you hover your other hand over his form, unable to move or take any action.

“…It will take a while for him to heal.” The young vidyhara states softly, turning around after setting a gourd of medicine on a nearby table.

Moze is silent, staring at a blank spot in the wall, as if he was replaying something in his mind, possibly wondering of an outcome where this wouldn’t happen.

You don’t ask questions. Later, you’d ask someone like Feixiao for the full story, but now, the only thing you needed was to know that he was alive.

“He’s… alive…” Is all you manage to say, a hollow pit in your stomach as you ghost your hand over Jiaoqiu’s.

“Barely,” Moze interjects, “He’s breathing, but he can barely maintain life.”

The room was silent afterwards, perhaps a moment of silence for lost things, feelings, words; that could never be explained. No matter how close you think you could feel, the distance felt further than the horizon, and a sense of crushing guilt had stamped its way across the room.

Alive… but at this cost.

It didn’t take a genius to guess what happened for the reddened bandages to be over his eyes. You felt your eyes water; to weep for him.

An expression he could no longer do.

Without warning, Jiaoqiu’s hand weakly reached out, bumping the back of his hand with yours. At the contact, he immediately clasps your hand with his, albeit without much strength, and keeps it there.

He recognized your touch.

Bailu’s eyes widened at the fact be was able to move, as she immediately got up to put a hand on his forehead.

“Temperature seems normal… no spike in heart rate, but there seems to be a bit of consciousness…” Bailu muses to herself quickly, ghosting her hands over Jiaoqiu, holding back a breath that everyone else in the room shared.

After her small checkup, she dashes to the corner of the room, picking up a bottle of some sort, giving it a small swirl before setting it closer to the patient.

She taps his cheek twice, softly, waiting for Jiaoqiu to respond.

Slowly but surely, he eases himself up with his arms. Moze rushes to stabilize him as Bailu grabs the medicine again.

“I’ll be feeding you medicine, okay Jiaoqiu? Please open your mouth.” Bailu states, a professional tone in her voice, much contrasting the worry and fear she held in her eyes and her tense demeanor, unscrewing the cap with a swift motion, bringing the edge of the container to Jiaoqiu’s lips.

To her surprise, he takes the container himself— albeit sloppily— and gulps it down. Bailu still watches him to make sure he downs the entire serving, but is shocked at his eagerness.

“My…” Jiaoqiu mutters as he finishes his dosage, giving the container to whoever was in front of him (Bailu). “I felt them…”

“It’s me. Jiaoqiu… I’m right here…” You whisper to him, a hand over his as you thumb over his skin with the utmost care.

He smiles, recognizing your voice.

“I’m here too,” Moze interjects, and Jiaoqiu turns his head to the direction of his voice.

“Don’t feel bad about not being able to save me, Moze. I know you’d say it was your fault, but he was powerful.” Jiaoqiu reassures him, before Moze even said an additional word.

“…It’s like you read my mind, Jiaoqiu.”

“I’ve known you for a while. Even if I can’t see you, I know you are the same.”

The room goes silent again, as if its occupants were mourning the loss of his sense of sight.

He would never be able to see his own cooking again.

Even Bailu felt the air tense, as the small vidyhara fidgeted with the container in her hands, unscrewing and re-screwing the container’s lid, a desperate attempt to release her stress.

She reached for a roll of gauze, noticing that the previous layer had most likely bled through.

“Please leave, visitors. I must change the gauze.” She said, still tense, unrolling the white masking while you and Moze slowly get up to leave.

You threw one last look at the two before you dropped the curtain on them; Jiaoqiu lying helplessly as the small nurse worked hard to remove his wrist bandages, her head bent down.

[havenscribes]

Only Warriors - Bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x Wakandan!Regent!Reader - Chapter Three

Word Count: 2260 words

Warnings: nothing really but crying and we got the exposition out the way yayy!!

Even after all these years, Wakanda’s skyline still takes my breath away. Moonlight colors the buildings and wells with a blue glow as the shadows lining every structure shift away from it. I lean my forehead down against the glass and heave out a deep breath. Sure, maybe I spend sixteen hours out of the day chasing after politicians and ambassadors, but it’s all worth it to make sure that home is protected from nosy government officials. The second we allow prying eyes into the country, well-meaning or not, they’ll try and control everything we have.

Flying above the city, I see elderly couples enjoying the night air from their porches, and the occasional cat slinking along in the night. The buildings blur together and get so small as we zoom across the water to the Panther statue jutting out of the mountain, its eyes glowing bright indigo as we slide into its maw.

Inside of the Great Mound there's grandeur like you've never seen. Dozens of valleys and ridges hold up metal mining structures and magnets, humming and buzzing so hard you feel your teeth chatter. The farther down you go, the more toxic the chemical levels are, and the more the cobalt lava shines through the rock, wrapping around the walls to the top of the mine. At the center of all this majesty is Shuri’s lab.  I half expect to see her in there tinkering around, and my face falls remembering just how deserted she is. What if she’s in danger? How will we know if Namor takes advantage of her humanity and fights dirty? Why couldn’t I stop him?

Before I know it, the settling of the aircraft shakes me out of my thoughts, rumbling a purr as it slows to a stop underneath the lab. Waiting in the hangar, Ayo walks in a straight line back and forth, shaking her head in dismay. As soon as the doors open, she snaps to attention and salutes me. Aneka sharpens her blades on a nearby table before whipping around to do the same, albeit a little more clumsily. Kena follows me as I drowsily lumber off the ship, and maybe I’m seeing things, but they share a warning look amongst each other as I pass through the doors. 

Before I do any serious business back in Wakanda, I have to be medically and mentally evaluated to maintain my health. It’s a little bit like a post-mission tradition, if post-mission traditions consisted of sitting on a cold metal table as Griot asks me about the food I had in each country. I guess I shouldn’t complain, he’s not the worst company a girl can have, and he doesn’t get offended when I ask him to be quiet. If anyone asks, I won’t admit it, but these evaluations bring me back to myself, in a way. They remind me that I’m not a robot who can work and move with extremely high efficiency all the time, and to cut myself a little bit of slack. 

This time, however, as I lay my head down on the examiner, Ayo and Kena snuck into the room. I jumped in my gown, almost exposing a less dignified area of my body.

“Bast. With all of that metal, you’d think I’d be able to hear when you all enter the room.”

Ayo chuckles smugly, as if scaring me half out of my body was a fun pastime for her. “If you could hear us enter the room, we wouldn’t be very good soldiers.”

“I suppose that’s true. Yes, you both are good, indeed. Maybe the best.” I add, kittenish and sweet, dusting off my gown and crossing my legs. Aneka rolls her eyes playfully at my attempt at brown nosing.

“You know the general has prohibited anyone from disclosing when the Black Panther will return. A little waiting might actually do you some good, Y/n. You never had any patience.”

“Well, why wait when I could just get things myself? And I’m not just a citizen, or some nosy royal who only cares about being in the loop. Shuri is my cousin, and I am the ambassador of Wakanda. The attack started with me. Why am I being kept in the dark?” Maybe I’m overstepping, but at the same time, I’m being disrespected. How dare they keep secrets from me as if I don’t work my ass off for my country every day?

“Please. You’re being so—so stubborn to think that you need to be privy to everything. As general, it’s my duty to make sure that all information is on a strictly need-to-know basis.”

“I need to know!” It comes out louder than I’d hoped, but so be it. There was no point in hiding my feelings in such a stressful position. “I am her right hand. She is my leader. And my family. Is that not enough for you?” 

“Remember your place, Y/n. Yes, you are a part of the royal family, but it doesn’t entitle you to all of the governmental knowledge at all times. There’s a reason why only one nuclear family rules all of Wakanda. Because the more people who are allowed into the important rooms, the more often betrayal happens. Learn from your elders, even if it means you’re excluded at times. We can’t afford for you to throw temper tantrums anymore.”

Suddenly, I feel a whole lot more exposed than when my ass was almost out. I look at the time, it’s 4:06 am. Too early to be called a child after my cousin was abducted. Too late for me to care if I’m being selfish. “Leave me, please.”

Ayo starts, not exactly repentant, but she softens this time. “Y/n, your safety is the utmost priority, you know this—”

“Get out! Please. I need to sleep this off.” I can’t meet her or Aneka’s eyes, and squeeze the examination table. Griot slides the door open for them, and before either moves, a beat passes. I know they know that I’m lying, I probably won’t get a wink of sleep without some powerful batch of herbs.

“As you wish.” 

They sneak off without a sound and I flop down onto my side, still feeling every bit as wired as I did before my speech. 

“Griot, continue.” 

Even though I tried my best to stay awake throughout the rest of the tests, Griot went into lullaby mode, and as soon as he put on ocean sounds and heated the table, I was out like a light.

***

The next morning, the sun shines through the window of my suite in the mountain, glaring in my eye. I’m still in my gown, but my bags and other belongings from the trip are in the room with me. It still looks like it did when we were younger and I’d beg Queen Ramonda for a sleepover every night. She’d put me and Shuri up in the room, one of us on the floor, the other in the bed alternating for fairness. Then we’d stay up till the ungodly hours watching foreign films and sharing our dreams of being something more than royalty.

Luckily, a knock on the door snaps me out of my thoughts. Aneka stands on the other side with a traditional staff in hand, and her body is styled like she could be attacked at any moment, but her eyes are so telling. 

“How did you sleep?” She asks me, hesitantly, like I might snap at her again. My face almost crumples, but I somehow manage a sad smile. 

“Okay. I’m not proud of how I acted last night.” I admit to her, pulling her by the arm into my suite. Never has it been a practice of mine to treat those who ‘rank’ lower than I badly, especially since each and every single Dora is my family. “You didn’t deserve that, Aneka. You or the general.”

“She understands. Last night couldn’t have been easy to process for you. The council has been abuzz all morning, trying to come up with a solution for you both.”

“Us both? I’m home, they shouldn't be wasting time on me when we have clearly bigger fish to fry.” We backtrack as I rush around the suite, looking for an outfit to wear. “I have to get down there, immediately. Do you have a jet?”

“Yes, and they’re already expecting you, so don’t be long.”

“Do you know what they need from me? I have to be in Belgium next week, so I can’t stay and plan with them much longer.” I hop into my jeans, looking around for the purse I had last night. Did it get back on the ship with me?

“Yes, apparently they’re requesting more security with you.” Aneka pulls a stool out from the island and sits down, folding her hands.

“Ah.”

*** The Citadel is abuzz as I walk in, accompanied by Aneka and Ayo, who still won’t speak to me outside of cordial hellos and business matters. In fact, there are more people in the hall than I’ve ever seen, skating around whispering and consulting the members. So much for preventing betrayal. Chief M’Baku sits on his very own hirsute throne, decorated with wooden apes and fur and other things, but shooes his advisors away when his eyes meet mine. 

He stands abruptly, and his entourage stands with him, starting that hooting nonsense to quiet the room. Once all attention is on him, he claps twice to be unnecessary, and sits down with a grunt. “The wanderer is here.”

I close my eyes with effort in order to not roll them, and pull a tight smile across my face. 

“Good to see you all, elders and officials. Thank you for your concern for my safety.” They murmur their agreements and as I shuffle to my seat, I can’t help but feel like something is very, very wrong. The first clue is that my favorite elder, M’Kathu, is not in attendance. In his place is his wife, a slender woman with short hair who scowls meanly at me almost always. Bast, be in my favor today, please. 

“Well, let us address the elephant in the room, ah? The wanderer is vulnerable, to no one’s surprise.” M’baku states, allowing no time for small talk. His flying monkeys hoot behind him.

I move to speak but Ayo puts her hand up quickly. “The security of our most talented ambassador and Queen is the responsibility of the Dora Milaje, and as we are wary of Namor, let it be known that we are in contact with the Queen. She is safe and supports our new efforts in the protection of the ambassador.” New efforts?

“For now. Queen Shuri is safe for now.” M’Baku gestures with his carrot, spewing chunks into the air. Disgusting.

“And what would these new efforts be? What would be enough to aid the Dora Milaje against the Feathered Serpent God?” Shouts Elder Zawavari skeptically.

Contact? “If I may interrupt, how did we get in contact with her?”

General Ayo gives me a look that says Shut up and wait. Everyone else wants to chime in now, and I can’t stop wondering: What did Shuri say? What does Namor want with her now?

“The Queen has enlisted another protector for the ambassador, one that is ruthless and intimidating. She has worked side by side with him and he has vowed to be of use in return for his own life, which Shuri saved as a girl. He has proved himself to be a formidable opponent to Namor, even when surprised.”

The council goes quiet in anticipation. Even I begin to soften at the idea of another protector, if he’s this talented, I definitely won’t be in danger. M‘Baku rises slowly from his chair, his expression darkening. “No. No outsiders. Especially no criminals.”

The General rises to meet his eye, and the Dora Milaje backs her up. “It’s not my decision, but it is the correct one. Sometimes we must look past transgressions to become stronger.”

“Absolutely not. This is a treasonous act and the Jabari Tribe will not allow it. M’Kathu wouldn’t either.” M’Baku booms across to the general. 

“You dare to challenge your queen?” Ayo asks with one raised eyebrow, already knowing the answer. Across them is tension so thick it weighs down our clothes, and I didn’t even notice the Doras’ calling, but it’s not helping the atmosphere. I wonder who could be so controversial to have half of the Tribal Council up in arms. M’Baku holds his tongue and puts his hands up in disappointment. The general nods, “I didn’t think so.”

The suspense is killing me. “So, who’ll be my bodyguard?”

Ayo smiles at me, almost impishly. “Y/n, until the Queen is returned and Namor is quelled, you’ll be escorted in all endeavors within and outside of Wakanda by James Buchanan Barnes.”

Fuck.

[nerves-nebula]

Splinter smiled to himself as he finally stood and looked at his handiwork. Was it pretty? Maybe not, but it worked. An old television set stolen from a thrift shop, a handmade entertainment center that was mostly just pieces of scrap he’d found in the nearby junkyard, and lots of illegal wiring that definitely wasn’t safe to be around this much water, and now their underground home was just a little cozier.

The boys were all sitting on the couch (which had been a bitch and a half to get down there in the first place), watching him curiously. They were getting so big now, and everyone except Donatello was stringing together near-sentences.

“Dada, what is?” Leonardo slapped the cushion between his little legs, a determined frown on his face.

“This is a television.” He told them, “We can watch movies on it.”

They all stared at him, clueless.

He shook his head, bending down to pick up the few films he’d managed to swipe. He’s tried to find some for a younger age group, but all he’d managed to find was a VHS of Sesame Street and… no. First off, there was no way he was finding a VHS player and second, he’s not watching that. He could not deal with puppets singing, even if it was supposed to be good for the kids’ developmental health or whatever.

“Here.” He came over, picking up Michelangelo and Donatello to make room for himself. Thankfully, they were still big enough for him to be able to keep them on his lap, though that wouldn’t last too much longer. He winced as Leonardo and Raphael climbed on, their little claws digging into his legs. As they settled he fanned out the available movies. “We can choose from these.” He pointed to each title as he read them out, “This one is called ‘Back to the Future’. It’s about a time traveling car. This one is ‘Samurai Rabbit’. It’s about a, well, a samurai rabbit.” Michelangelo giggled and he bounced the leg he sat on, chuckling with him, “Then we have ‘Mulan’. This one has singing in it, but it’s about a Chinese girl being a hero. Which one do you want, boys?”

Donatello plapped his hands against Splinter’s legs, turning to look up at him with wide eyes. Splinter held his breath a moment, hoping his youngest would finally start properly talking.

“Daddy.” Donnie wobbled and grabbed onto the front of his robe. He grinned wide, gap toothed from where a couple baby teeth hadn’t grown in yet.

Splinter sighed, “Yes, I am your Daddy.” It was okay. He would catch up. He was younger, he had time to catch up.

“Bunny!” Leonardo screamed, practically shoving Raphael aside as he leaned forward to grab at the Samurai Rabbit case, “Daddy, issa bunny!” He turned around, eyes wide and bright, “Bunny go hop!”

Two sentences. Well, toddler sentences, but still. He set the other two disks aside, letting Leonardo look at the art on the one he chose, “That is a bunny, good job, Leonardo.” He leaned down, kissing the boys head, “That’s my smart boy. Do you wanna watch the bunny?”

Leonardo nodded, slapping his hands onto the disk cover, “I like the bunny!”

Now that was a full sentence.

Two years later Splinter would have to console Leo when the disk finally got scratched beyond use after so many watches. Two months after that Draxum would show up with the entire collection of the main actor’s works.

Splinter refused to admit that he found the rabbit plush out of jealousy. He merely thought he son would enjoy the piece of memorabilia, and the children were still young enough to have toys. Nevermind that Leo had practically cried with joy when Draxum had showed him and had climbed into Draxum’s lap to watch one of the movies with him.

He certainly didn’t care about that at all.

The doll wasn’t in the best condition, with the fluff flattened and some of the details rubbed off from some other kid playing with it, but Splinter had gotten it nonetheless.

Maybe that’s why, when years down the road he decided that they were too old for dolls and toys, he didn’t try to take the rabbit plush.

——

I wanted to write something Splinter-centric, but I’m not in the headspace to write him being super terribly bad, so I went for turtle tot time. Especially since we’re discussing Usagi and his place in the AU.

-Monster Anon

consider this fanfic basically canon ! i fuckin!!! loved this!! augsdhuaghs!!

[pumpkin-the-girlie-girl-vixen]

Impulsive Behaviors

Impulsive behaviors are actions taken without forethought or consideration of the potential consequences. They can manifest in various ways, including spontaneous decisions, risky behaviors, or emotional outbursts. Here are key points to understand:

1. **Definition**: Impulsivity involves acting on a whim, often driven by immediate emotions or desires rather than rational thought.

2. **Causes**: It can stem from various factors, including neurological conditions, mental health disorders (like ADHD or bipolar disorder), stress, or substance use.

3. **Types**: Common impulsive behaviors include substance abuse, gambling, reckless driving, or engaging in unsafe sexual practices.

4. **Effects**: Impulsive actions can lead to negative consequences in personal relationships, financial stability, and overall mental health.

5. **Management**: Strategies to manage impulsive behavior include mindfulness practices, cognitive-behavioral therapy (CBT), developing coping skills, and seeking professional help when needed.

6. **Prevention**: Building self-awareness, setting clear goals, and creating an environment that minimizes triggers can help reduce impulsivity.

Understanding impulsive behaviors can lead to better self-management and healthier decision-making. If you or someone you know struggles with impulsivity, consider consulting a mental health professional for support.

Impulsive coping mechanisms are ways people react to stress or emotional discomfort without much forethought. These mechanisms can be classified into negative and positive impulsive behaviors:

Positive Impulsive Coping Mechanisms

1. **Physical Activity**: Engaging in spontaneous exercise, such as going for a run, dancing, or joining a fitness class.

2. **Creative Expression**: Impulsively creating art, writing, playing music, or crafting to channel emotions positively.

3. **Mindfulness Practices**: Taking a moment to practice deep breathing, meditation, or yoga to center oneself and reduce stress.

4. **Spontaneous Socializing**: Reaching out to friends or family for an impromptu get-together, fostering connection and support.

5. **Adventure Seeking**: Trying new activities or hobbies on a whim, such as hiking, cooking a new recipe, or attending a workshop.

6. **Laughter and Humor**: Watching a funny movie, sharing jokes, or engaging in playful activities that bring joy and lighten the mood.

7. **Acts of Kindness**: Spontaneously helping someone in need, performing random acts of kindness, or volunteering.

8. **Exploration**: Taking a spontaneous trip to a nearby place or exploring a new neighborhood to break routine.

9. **Journaling**: Writing down thoughts and feelings impulsively to process emotions and gain clarity.

10. **Impulse Buying**: Making small, thoughtful purchases that bring joy or enhance well-being, such as a book or a favorite snack (as long as it’s within budget).

11. **Self-Care Activities**: Impulsively treating oneself to a spa day, taking a long bath, or enjoying a favorite meal as a form of self-care.

12. **Engaging in Hobbies**: Dedicating time to a favorite hobby or interest spontaneously, such as painting, gardening, or playing an instrument.

13. **Nature Immersion**: Going outside for a walk in nature or spending time in a park to refresh the mind and reduce stress.

14. **Mindful Eating**: Choosing to indulge in a healthy snack or meal intuitively, focusing on flavors and enjoyment.

15. **Complimentary Actions**: Impulsively complimenting someone to spread positivity and build connections.

Negative Impulsive Coping Mechanisms

1. **Substance Abuse**: Engaging in the use of drugs or alcohol on a whim, often to escape stress or emotional pain.

2. **Emotional Outbursts**: Reacting with intense emotions such as anger, frustration, or sadness without considering the impact on others.

3. **Risky Sexual Behavior**: Engaging in unprotected sex or multiple partners without considering health risks.

4. **Compulsive Spending**: Making impulsive purchases as a means of coping with emotions, leading to financial issues.

5. **Reckless Driving**: Driving aggressively or engaging in dangerous driving behaviors without regard for safety.

6. **Gambling**: Participating in gambling activities impulsively, often leading to financial loss and addiction.

7. **Self-Harm**: Engaging in behaviors that intentionally cause physical harm to oneself as a way of managing emotional distress.

8. **Eating Disorders**: Impulsive eating behaviors, including binge eating or emotional eating, to cope with feelings.

9. **Social Media Oversharing**: Posting impulsively on social media without considering privacy or the potential consequences.

10. **Procrastination**: Avoiding responsibilities through impulsive distractions or engaging in other activities instead.

11. **Impulsive Travel**: Making spontaneous travel plans without adequate planning, often leading to logistical challenges.

12. **Spontaneous Decisions**: Making quick decisions without thorough consideration, which can affect personal and professional life.

13. **Disregarding Commitments**: Canceling plans or ignoring obligations on a whim, leading to inconsistency in relationships.

14. **Aggressive Behavior**: Reacting to frustration or provocation with aggression, whether verbal or physical.

15. **Attention-Seeking Behaviors**: Engaging in actions solely to gain attention, even if they are inappropriate or harmful.

Understanding both negative and positive impulsive coping mechanisms can help individuals identify their behaviors and seek healthier ways to cope. While some impulsive actions can provide immediate relief, they can also have long-term consequences if not managed properly. Finding a balance and cultivating positive coping strategies can lead to healthier emotional responses and overall well-being. If someone struggles to manage these behaviors, it may be beneficial to seek support from a mental health professional.

[pink-key]

Old 2015 version

A young man was sitting on a concrete block, lacing up his rollerblades. His hands were shaking with excitement. He had been thinking about this upcoming moment for several years. Tightening the tongue of his skate, he stood up and rolled forward slightly. He looked around. The building he was in was once supposed to be a small shopping center, but the company went bankrupt and left the building in an unfinished state. This place had been his refuge ever since.

His appearance was not remarkable: disheveled long black hair and always tired gray eyes with an eternal, distant look. He was wearing an old, tattered sweatshirt and dark pants, in which some small holes were already visible, undoubtedly the result of street fights.

Taking the claw hammer, he swung it a couple of times and quietly muttered, barely smiling, "Everything should go perfectly; it would be a shame to end up in that damned hospital with a broken leg again."

At a young age, he was hit by a car, resulting in hospitalization. At that time, there were many war veterans there. Every day, he heard their groans, cries of agony, and curses when they realized that their limbs could not be saved. This moment stuck in his subconscious; he felt a certain detachment from reality, his consciousness slowly peeling away from his brain. At least that's how he described it to his overprotective mother. Like any mother, she was worried about her son, but she did not consider therapists and psychologists to be real doctors and treated his mental health in her own way. She worked as a court assistant lawyer and often brought pictures from her work. These were photographs of crime scenes, and she thought that by showing them to her son, the boy would not consider blood or corpses, for that matter, as something scary. She was always too close for his comfort.

Ruffling his hair sharply with his free hand, he shook his head. He didn't want these memories to ruin his night. He glanced at his belongings lying on a nearby cement block. A shabby backpack, a couple of trinkets and his old hockey stick. He grinned, taking the hockey stick and putting it in the case on his back that wrapped around his torso. He glanced at his watch. 2:34, time to act. Leaving the abandoned building, he skated on a deserted road.

With every second, emotions of immense joy filled him more and more, although he had not even reached his goal yet. He had not felt such bursting emotions for a long time; they were comparable to those he felt when he learned to roller-skate. 

He considered skates an extension of himself and felt awkward not wearing them. After all, he could run away or catch up with anyone when he was wearing them. He especially enjoyed it when he skated away from a salesman after stealing a sandwich or chips from him. His friends praised him for his agility and speed. However, they were hooligans and often fought and abused stray animals. He didn't spend much time with them; he believed that animals should not be tortured. All human beings, even children, are born spoiled and prone to cruelty, while animals do not have human thoughts and a thirst for sadism. He was so obsessed with this philosophy that the smell of cooked meat started to make him vomit. 

A girl appeared on the horizon. No older than 25, she wore a short dress that barely covered her bottom. She stared at her phone, typing something on it. She didn't care about the slightly cool wind or the completely empty road on which she stood. He was looking for her.

He leaned a little, gaining speed, and squeezed the hammer in his hand while whistling a simple classic tune.

"Hey, Oli-dolly! You're not a man? Why are you refusing meat? Should I knock the crap out of you? Frigging princess, all polite, quiet, well-mannered. You fight like a girl too." Words ringed in his head. If he was provoked, he had no brakes; he was ready to fight to the death. That moment in the past was no exception either. The long refusal of food made him more sullen, any bullying addressed to him angered him more easily than usual; when he grappled with the leader of their gang, he couldn't restrain himself and, out of hatred, bit off part of his opponent's cheek. In that instance, he realized how to live, everything seemed to fall into place for him, as if with the snap of fingers. Undoubtedly, all people are corrupt, but there are those who do not even try to pretend to be correct and give themselves over to their pleasures and sadistic inclinations. What if there was a way to erase them from existence completely? After all, their soul cannot exist outside their flesh, just burying the corpse won't be enough.

A dull sound echoed down the street. The girl fell to the ground. There was a pause as Oli slowly lowered his arm after the blow. He thought he would behave like the killers from the films, laugh loudly, shake with happiness, and burst into loud speeches. Yet he stood quietly, watching his victim, a slight shiver of adrenaline running through his body. Blood dripped down her silky blonde hair. She raised her head, looking in disbelief and horror at the teenager in front of her.

"O-oli?! Why... why did you do that?"

Tears poured out of her eyes. Not waiting for an answer, she got up, wobbling, and rushed in the opposite direction from him. He skated smoothly behind her, wondering how long she could run with a smashed head. She could not scream out words from the stupor of fear. However, when she gained strength, seeing the light in the windows of a house in the distance, Oli took out his hockey stick and knocked the girl down with it. She fell, face on the ground.

He hit the girl on the back with his weapon, so she couldn't make any more loud sounds. The man moved in front of her face, waiting for her to lift her bloody head up.

Sofia didn't do anything bad to him. She was very close to him, playing the role of an older sister to him and other street children in their area. Occasionally, she made snarky, playful remarks to them when they engaged in various hooliganism. However, Oli always considered her useless. She was from a dysfunctional family, of no use to anyone, bringing nothing to society. Only a rich family man wanted her body. No one will remember her or miss her. Therefore, he chose her as his first project, a kind of realization of his philosophy; it became his passion and meaning, without which he could not live.  --

"Did you guys hear? That maniac, Hitblade, killed someone again. Like, the quiet one from sociology, Rebecca or Raven was it." An anxious brown-haired girl sat down at the table where four of her classmates were having lunch.

"They haven't caught him yet? How hard is it to catch a cannibal on roller skates? Our police are completely slacking." Her red-haired classmate sitting opposite her answered displeasedly.

"I recently heard from a youtuber he ended up beating and eating his mother when he was a teen, even lived with her corpse for months, but these are just speculations, and these crimes are stated to not be related. Eh, don't worry, you look too young to be his next target." the third talkative classmate whispered, sneering awkwardly.

"Ahem, guys, I'm scared you know, I work the evening shift, what if he kills me?" The brunette muttered anxiously.

"Yes, I'm worried about you, Miriam. Oh, I have an idea! What if I accompany you after work to your home? I will be passing by there anyway, need to return a book to a friend." The black-haired guy said with notes of concern in his voice, moving his laptop away.

"You know, it's a good idea. He never attacks girls who're with someone. I finish at 22:00 you know the place." she said calming down.

"Of course." He answered with a gentle smile.

"Thank you, Oli!"