#Suspected Patient Delivers a Baby

[waughymommy]

My first 'mature' ABDL story. It's about a husband and a wife who have a problem. I hope to write a lot more after this, so I hope you like it!

Finding Mommy

'This isn't working.'

The statement didn't come as a shock to Andrew. He knew it wasn't working. But he didn't want to look like he didn't care, so he persued it, already feeling resigned and bitter about the discussion's inevitable conclusion.

'What isn't?' he asked, softly.

'This. This whole...baby thing. I can't do it,' his wife, Tammy, waved her hand in his direction. He winced, glancing down at his apparel. A slightly soggy diaper, and a t-shirt. He'd been wearing the same thing to bed every so often for a couple months now. His wife had initially chuckled and teased him playfully, but lately...lately the playful teasing had stopped. She wouldn't remark on his padded state, except if the diaper got too close to her. 'The tapes scratch my skin,' she'd explain, but Andrew suspected it was something else.

She went on.

'I'm sorry. I thought I could. I know you really want this. But I can't do it. I can't...pretend you're a baby. The diapers were one thing...but...I can't do that,' she looked away, as if preparing herself to say something upsetting. 'You know...when you first told me...you made it sound...sound like a sex thing...I don't mind that. I don't even mind...using them, sometimes...like...like before...you know?'

She trailed off, looking at Andrew, a pained expression on her face. Andrew's mind flashed back to when he'd first told her, almost a year and a half ago. How she'd been so...accepting.

--------------------------------

'Are these ones good?' Tammy asked, as she patted the package. 'I wanted to make sure I got good ones...I ordered these a few weeks after you told me...they just arrived on Monday.'

Andrew glanced at the large box of diapers, feeling a stirring of excitement at the fact that she'd bought so many...a whole case, in fact. God, what was she planning? Was this going to become a regular occurence? Was she going to keep him in diapers, for the whole day? Or wear herself? His head swam at the possibilities.

'I...uh...what are they?' he asked, licking his lips, nervously.

'Abena?' Tammy replied, scrunching up her face, trying to recall something. 'I...Abena X-plus? They had so many different names, but I think these are the good ones. Abri-form L4...The large ones...I wasn't sure what size we'd need...Oh.'

She suddenly stopped, pausing, as if worried about what she was going to say next. She reached into her (rather mysterious, to Andrew, at least) handbag, rummaging around. Andrew waited patiently for her to speak, his eyes darting back and forth between her and the large box on the bed. Abena X-plus was sure to be a world away from what he'd tried so far. He knew these were premium diapers. He felt himself jolt back to reality as Tammy started talking again.

'I bought...these...as well...'

Another package slid onto the bed, only this time it wasn't boxed or freshly delivered. It was clearly a packet of diapers. A packet of OPEN diapers.

'On the site I got the...uh...Abenas from, they were selling purple ones, too,' she said, nervously. 'So...I got some of those, in a smaller size...'

Andrew's mind could have exploded at that moment. Tammy stood up from the bed, an audible crinkling coming from her pyjama bottoms. Andrew couldn't believe he hadn't noticed the bulge of her diaper before, but he certainly noticed now. He stared at her rump almost hungrily as she turned sideways, looking coyly at him, grabbing the edge of her pyjama top and starting to lift it, revealing the purple waistband of the diaper.

Andrew stepped forwards, reaching out. His hand ran over her bottom, slipping off her trousers, until she was standing in just a diaper and a shirt. He patted the material of padding, pulling her close to him, hand trailing around and around the crinkly undergarment, feeling it, feeling /her/ through it.

'I...I guess you like it?' Tammy asked, feeling a little awkward. Andrew made a noise halfway between a sigh and a groan.

'Yes,' he replied, simply.

'Would you like to wear one, too?' she asked, wriggling her bottom against his crotch, making him tense a little.

'Y...yes...' he gasped, hardly believing what was happening...

'Then lay down on the bed for me...'

-----------------------------

That night had been amazing. Andrew couldn't believe his luck. They'd spent the whole evening in diapers, exploring and experimenting. It felt like his wildest fantasies had come true. This beautiful woman, his future wife (he'd chosen to tell her a little while after they got engaged), was willing to wear and use diapers for him. He couldn't believe it.

She seemed almost as eager as him, that evening. She did everything he'd ever fantasized about, sexually. She wet. She asked for a change. She changed him...they even had...well. Andrew wasn't sure what to call it. Lots of rubbing. Wet, squishy diapers pressing together, then pulled aside for the 'main event'. Was that diaper sex? He supposed so. It was wonderful, whatever it was.

He wondered if what happened next had been a turning point. At the end of the evening, when they were snuggled in bed, she'd sighed contentedly and lazily rolled out of bed.

'Be right back, hun,' she told him huskily, slipping out of the room in an instant.

She'd returned, after a couple minutes, undiapered, her bottoms now back on. She'd smiled and gotten back into bed with him.

------------

'Why did you take it off?' Andrew asked, a little confused. 'Didn't you like it?'

Tammy dodged the question, but sounded just as confused as Andrew. 'Well...we're done now, aren't we? I'm really tired...I don't think you're up to going again, even I wasn't...'

She paused, sidling up to him in the bed, absent-mindedly flattening the covers over her. 'Why haven't you taken yours off?' she asked, finally.

'I...Well. I just...thought I'd like to keep it on. That's...okay, right?'

A few moments ago, he'd been certain it would be. It seemed silly even to ask. But now he wasn't so sure.

'Oh. Um. Sure,' Tammy replied, smiling again. 'I love you.'

She kissed him, turning away, and Andrew slipped his arms around her from behind, murmuring 'I love you, too' into her neck.

---------------

'That was okay. It made me feel...sexy. I loved that I could have that effect on you. It made me feel good, too,' she thought for a moment. 'I felt like your partner, then. I felt like I was desirable, sexually, like...like this was a special secret, between us. Something for the bedroom, something kinky and fun. I didn't care that it was nappies, I knew people had fetishes...but this isn't just a fetish, is it?'

Andrew swallowed as she fixed him with a steely gaze.

'Is it, Andrew?'

He shook his head 'no'. It was more than that. He wished he'd explained before. He thought she'd understood.

'You...want to be a baby, don't you?'

Andrew's mouth opened in protest.

'No! I mean...not all the ti-'

Tammy raised a hand, cutting him off.

'I know. Not all the time. Not most of the time. Not forever. Just occasionally, right? Like when I tried before...but for real?'

Andrew swallowed and nodded again. He remembered the brief times she'd tried to play 'Mommy'.

--------------

'Uh...crawl to me...come here, you naughty little baby...'

Tammy's voice was strained, as she patted the top of her legs, calling Andrew over.

Meanwhile, Andrew himself was feeling...well. He wasn't sure exactly.

There was something a little exciting about the humiliation his wife was bringing to this role. He found something arousing about how she threatened to spank him, how she called him names and teased him. It felt, well, /naughty/, and he decided he sort of liked that. It was very erotic.

But...he wasn't looking for this to be erotic. Something was wrong. He didn't feel like a baby; he felt like a naughty boy being punished. He didn't feel safe and looked after. He felt chastised and a little ashamed. He felt unspeakably adult, despite the baby bonnet and mittens he was wearing. Instead of an innocent little baby, he was some weird guy, crawling around, pretending to be an infant, calling his wife 'Mommy'.

'Crawl to me!' Tammy repeated.

Andrew sighed, starting to move.

'Yes, Mommy...'

-------------------

'I thought that was really weird, but you know...' Tammy shrugged. 'I tried. For you. I thought you wanted that. I thought it was a sex thing still.'

Andrew shuffled in the bed, feeling uncomfortable. He wished he hadn't worn to bed, now. He'd felt a pang when he'd gone to pad up; his case of abenas was nearly empty; her package of molicares was two thirds full. He hadn't expected her to use them of her own volition, but it was a reminder of just how infrequently she'd worn, for him or otherwise.

'Then,' Tammy continued. 'Then you told me that wasn't what you wanted, either. You wanted it to be more...innocent...more 'snuggly'.' That last word was almost a snarl, and Andrew felt himself flinch.

'So I tried that, too. But I couldn't do it...I mean...' she sighed, pushing the hair back out of her eyes, sighing in frustration. 'Remember what I told you when you told me this stuff?'

­Andrew nodded.

­­­

-----------------

'Aren't I...doing enough?' Tammy asked, a look of confusion on her face.

'No! No, it's not that...it's more that you're doing it the wrong way...' Andrew immediately regretted his words, seeing his wife's expression turn sour.

'No! I mean...I...I think maybe I didn't really explain what I want, not properly. It's not just the baby stuff, dressing up and that...I want...' he swallowed, hesitant.

'Well...I want it to be more...um...innocent? Like...like...I was a rea...' he stopped himself. 'Like, more snuggly? You know? Maybe some...cuddles...at bedt- at night time...I'd like to be, um...held...sometimes...'

Tammy stared at him as if he had just sprouted a third head.

'So...you want me to be like your real mother?'

'No!'

'As if you were a real baby, right?'

'I...No...I mean...it's not like you're my real mother...I...I just want you to...'

'To what? Look after you? Like an infant?' Tammy demanded, her voice even.

'I...I...in a way...yes...I just don't want it to always be so...sexual...'

Tammy sighed. There was a silence before she finally spoke.

'Okay. Look. This is pretty weird to me. I'm not comfortable with it. But I love you, Andrew. I always will,' she looked up as she spoke, taking Andrew's hand in her own. 'But I don't know how to deal with this. I don't think I can...do that. I'm sorry.'

'Oh.' replied Andrew, simply. He hated himself at that moment. If he'd been honest from the beginning, maybe none of this would have happened.

'But,' Tammy started, nibbling her lip. 'BUT. I'd like to be okay with it. So...You can do something...something small...I don't know, you could wear a nappy to bed. And I'll try to get more comfy with the idea.'

Andrew's heart leapt. Everything was going to be okay.

---------------

Andrew's heart sank. Everything was going wrong.

But Tammy wasn't done yet...

'I tried so hard to...to accept this. I started off like...like it was no big deal, remember? I used to tease you and you'd smile and for a bit, I thought maybe I could be okay with it. But then, then you started to...I don't know. Resent me? You pulled away. It wasn't enough for you. And maybe I pulled away, too. It hurt to see you wanting me to give you something I wouldn't, couldn't give you. It hurt to see you shut me out because I couldn't understand. So...now we're here...'

'Where is here?' Andrew said, asking, for the second time that night, a question which he really didn't feel he needed to ask, but if he didn't ask it, he knew it would appear he didn't care.

'Here? Here is...my husband wants to be treated like a baby...NON sexually...and I can't cope with it,’ she paused, seemingly thinking hard about something. Her mouth opened again, this time drawing out the sound of one little word, waiting for a statement to follow it.

‘So….’

Andrew swallowed. He waited for the crushing blow. He didn’t know what she would say, but he could guess.

‘So you can’t wear diapers anymore around me…’

‘So I don’t want diapers in the house anymore…’

‘So I don’t love him anymore….’

‘So I /can’t/ love him anymore, and I think we need to get a divorce…’

He knew whatever was said next would change their relationship forever. He was about to lose something, he didn’t know what exactly, but he also knew life would be a lot harder without him. He looked up at her with grim determination, resigned to whatever awful things came out of her mouth next.

‘So…’ she began again, and Andrew felt himself stiffen, worry making his heart pound.

‘So I think we need to find him…find you…someone who can.’

Andrew gawped at her. That wasn’t what he’d been expecting at all. What was she saying? Was she leaving him? She must be… she was just being the wonderful woman she always had been, willing to help him find a more ‘appropriate’ mate, someone who’d be happy to indulge him. He felt his eyes sting a little as tears formed, before, in the silence, another possibility occurred to him.

She’d been watching him closely, and seemed to notice as a flash of something, hope, realization maybe, passed across his face. He addressed her again, voice shaky.

‘Do you mea-‘ he was cut off abruptly.

‘I mean, just someone to do that for you, you know?’ Tammy explained, her voice emphasizing the word ‘that’ in a way that made it clear she found ‘that’ distasteful. ‘I…no sex. I’m not leaving you. I love you, I always will, I think. I hope. I just…I don’t know what to do. I’m scared, Andrew. And…I know this is so, so important to you. I see it, Andy, I see how much you want it…’

It’s her turn to look scared now, her eyes filled with tears, rolling freely down her cheeks. She’s shivering, but it’s not cold. Wordlessly, Andrew embraced her, his own manly sob joining her small, squeaking ones, her voice cracking as she tried to go on.

‘I…I don’t want to lose you…I’m…I wanted so badly to m…make you happy, but I CAN’T. I’m a horrible, awful wife. I’m a fuck-up. I…I don’t know why you married me!’ she howls, throwing herself into Andrew’s chest, his arms soothing her, rubbing her back, shh-ing her like you would a crying child. A tiny smile formed on his lips for a moment, as he considered the role reversal.

But it was soon replaced by another kind of smile, the kind that happens when you realize maybe you’re not alone, that your partner is just as afraid of what’s happening as you. That he or she is afraid of the exact same things. It was a tearful, almost regret-filled smile.

‘If only we’d talked about this sooner…’

He shook his head, clearing his mind. Right now, he had to help Tammy feel better.

‘Ohh…oh hun…’ he said, his own voice wavering, fighting back another hard sob. ‘Shhh… you know, I’ve been worried about the same thing. I thought I was an awful husband. I wondered why you wanted to be with me. I didn’t understand. I thought…just now, you were going to leave me…’

Tammy jerked back, head snapping upwards to look at him, a look of something…hurt, Andrew decides. Hurt he’d think she would do that. Her face pink and flushed, her cheeks damp with too many tears.

‘Never,’ She retorted, instantly, and then she was back in his arms, crying anew. ‘Never…I…I NEVER want to lose you…’

Andrew smiled again, sighing, a little in relief. Of course, given her earlier outburst, he already knew that…but it was lovely to have confirmation.

‘I know Tam, I really do. Now, at least. But I want to let you know, I love you too. I don’t think you’re an awful wife…you’ve been so understanding. Please, don’t think I don’t love you, don’t think I resent you, or hate you or think ANYTHING bad about you, after you’ve tried so hard to fulfill me and my selfish, perverted desires.’

He felt her shaking her head, disagreeing, with the part about her trying so hard, or the part about his desires being perverted, or both, or something else…he wasn’t sure. It didn’t matter at that moment.

‘So I’m just telling you, no matter what, I’ll love you. I’d have loved you even if you said I could never wear another diaper. I’d have loved you even if you told me you’d stopped loving me. I don’t think I’d be able to stop myself…’

Tammy’s cheeks turned a little pinker, her sobs dying down.

‘Are you sure?’ she asks, not moving to look at him.

‘Positive,’ he says, more confident now. ‘Do you feel better now?’

‘Yes.’

‘Are you ready to talk about…it?’

‘…Yes.’

There was a pause as Tammy pulled away, slowly, reluctantly, so she could look at him. She smiled, her eyes wandering over him, as if appreciating him newly. When she reached the diaper her expression clouded, eyes flitting back up to his, as if just remembering they had something else to discuss now.

‘So…do you mean it?’ Andrew asked, anxiously.

‘Yes.’

He looked unconvinced, so Tammy continued.

‘I don’t have a problem with it. I really don’t. I’ve been thinking about it for a while, an-‘

‘Why didn’t you ask me before?’

‘Wh-what?’

‘Why didn’t you ask me before?’ Andrew repeated, his tone not demanding or forceful, but genuinely curious.

‘I…well…’ Tammy looked away, embarrassed. ‘I was scared…’

‘Why?’

‘Well…first I was worried you’d say no, because she wouldn’t be me, and you wouldn’t be able to feel anything with her. And if you said no, I’d be out of options. I don’t know what would h-happen if…’ her voice broke again, eyes swimming with tears. Andrew frowned slightly.

‘What else?’

‘I was afraid if you said yes, you would love her...too much. You’d leave me. Because you don’t love me at all, not anymore…how could you? I mean-‘

Andrew squeezed her hand suddenly, shaking his head, stopping her from working herself up again.

‘Not true, love. I want you. I love you. I’m not going to replace you. Even if I agree to this, I promise,nobody’ll never replace you…are you sure you’re okay with this?’

Tammy nodded.

‘Yes.’

‘What…sort of things would she, uh, do?’

‘I don’t know,’ Tammy admitted, seeming to shrink back a little. ‘I mean…change you? Give you bottles…pacifiers…play with you like a real baby.’

Andrew felt his heart flutter twice; once at the prospect of a genuine Mommy in his life, after so long… and once at the sudden feeling of utter love for Tammy that swept over him. ‘The ideal woman…’ he thought, snorting somewhere inside his head at how corny that was.

‘Would I be allowed to call her Mo…’ Andrew blushed, dropping his voice to a whisper.

‘Mommy?’ he finished, waiting.

‘Yes. Of course. I mean, that’s what you want, right? A Mommy? For the…the baby inside you? Just no sexual stuff. Please. I need that from you.’

Andrew nodded unhesitatingly. The thought of having sex with another woman (beyond occasional fantasies) had never even crossed his mind. He was missing an emotional, platonic, maternal bond, not a passionate sexual one.

They both smiled a moment, almost in triumph. They were still together. This might just work out.

‘So…’ Tammy started, grinning now.

‘So…’ Repeated Andrew, a playful smirk joining hers. ‘What do we do now?’

‘Now? Now we sleep. I’m so tired. I just want to be held. I’m so…worn out…’ she leant forwards again, nuzzling his chest, smiling softly. She sighed, a long, happy sigh, as if a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

‘Okay…do…you want me to go change before we-‘

‘No. I don’t want you to leave.’

Her tone was demanding that time, and Andrew chuckled. She wriggled, pulling the covers out from under them both, as they each shuffled and worked to lie down, his arms still wrapped around her. Their heads reaching the pillows, Tammy smiled wearily, shifting away a little, finding her husband’s body too warm for comfort. He leaned forwards and kissed her on the forehead.

‘Goodnight Tammy…’

‘Goodnight…’ she hesitated, wondering if she was really going to say this, worrying he’d take it the wrong way. She stopped hesitating.

‘Baby,’ she added, one hand slipping down and squeezing the soggy bulge of his diaper. She watched his face for a reaction.

Andrew blushed a little as she withdrew her hand.

It was a simple, loving gesture. A show of acceptance.

It hadn’t meant anything else. She wasn’t going to baby him. She didn’t see him that way. She didn’t want to be ‘Mommy’. She was his wife, and she was just showing how much she cared, how safe he was with her, how much she truly wanted him to be happy, even in this.

At that moment, that was all that Andrew needed.

He lifted his hand to squeeze her retreating one, smiling.

‘Thanks,’ he said, earnestly.

With that, she sighed slightly and turned around, snuggling into him backwards. Tomorrow, she thought, was sure to be a very interesting day.

[rollingsins]

all hers, part xvi

part i | part ii | part iii | part iv | part v | part vi | part vii | part viii | part ix | part x | part xi | part xii | part xiii | part xiv | part xv | part xvi | part xvii | part xviii | part xix | part xx | part xxi | part xxii | part xxiii | part xxiv | part xxv | part xxvi | epilogue

summary: Tara’s not a good patient. You should know this by now. 

warnings: (+18), Tara is Ghostface, mention of murder, Smut (18+), vaginal fingering, pussy-eating, face-sitting. Sweet!sex, bottom!Tara if you squint.

word count: 3.8k

a/n: bringing back sexy-time, because poor Tara needs a break. as always, thanks for all the love :))

Tara’s not a good patient. You should know this by now. 

She whines about not being able to stand up by herself. Snaps when her nurse - Nurse Dawson, suggests a sponge bath. Begrudgingly lets you help her shower. 

She hates the hospital food and refuses to eat Sam’s organic, non-gluten, non-dairy, non-fun pasta-bake when she shows up with it. Instead, she orders DoorDash to her hospital room  three nights in a row. 

And on the fourth night, when the doctor tells her she has to stay another night, her fist curls, daggers in her eyes. 

“You know why they’re doing this?” She says, voice hot as the slew of doctors and nurses leave the room, “It’s a money-grab. The longer they keep me here, the more money they get off of the Insurance payout.” 

“They’re keeping you here because you have a stab-wound in your stomach,” You say, firmly. You smooth her hair out of her face, touch her red cheeks with your fingertips, “And I want you here too. You’re not 100%, baby, you need to rest and recover.” 

“I feel fine,” She complains, with a huff, “Sure, my stomach hurts, but that’s what the Codeine is for, right?” 

You lean in and kiss her, soft. Climb into the hospital bed with her, your head on her shoulder. 

“Why don’t we watch a movie? That always makes you feel better.” 

Tara runs her hand down your arm, presses her lips to your forehead. Then squeezes your side, suggestively. 

“You know what would make me feel better?” She says, voice low, “If you took off all your clothes.”

“I’m sure Nurse Dawson would love that.” You say. 

Her hand catches your wrist, trying to hold you in place. 

“Please.” She murmurs, “My stomach hurts and all I want is for you to sit on my face.” 

“Glad to hear you’re feeling better,” Sam interjects as she enters the room. She has another pasta-bake in hand. 

Your face flames red. Tara's lips purse. 

“If you think I’m eating that-”

Sam shushes her, presses her lips to Tara’s forehead. 

“It’s good for you. Much better than the shit you’ve been eating. I made this one special, regular pasta, just for you.” 

Tara tilts her head, looks over at the pasta suspiciously. 

“It has gluten? And real cheese?”

“Real cheese and extra gluten. I made a kale and apple salad to pair with it-”

Tara groans, tilting her head back to the pillow. 

“Sam, why can’t you just make regular food for regular people?” She complains, but takes a helping all the same. You sit up as Sam hands you a plate, careful not to spill it all over Tara’s bedsheets. 

Sam settles into the seat next to the bed, watching. 

“Ran into the Sheriff in the hall,” She says, “They don’t have any suspects.” 

Sheriff Hicks’ visits had been regular since Tara got hurt. She’d seemed wide-eyed, upset, no doubt seeing Tara in a hospital bed had reminded her of her own missing son. She’d come in three days in a row, hat in hand to deliver the same news. 

The police had no leads.

“I know,” Tara says, mouth full, “She won’t leave us alone, will she, YN? Keeps coming in here asking me to repeat what happened over and over.” 

“She posted extra police on the door,” You say, “There’s five of them now.”

“Each as useless as the next,” Tara says under her breath. She frowns, “Sam are you sure this is real cheese? It tastes like shit.” 

You’d smack her, if you weren’t afraid you were going to hurt her wound. Instead you shoot her a look. 

“Babe.” You chide. 

Sam rolls her eyes. 

“You’re welcome.” She says, then she looks to you, “Where are your parents?” 

“They’ve gone home to shower,” You say, “They’ll be back a little later.” 

“Speaking of people who won’t leave us alone…” Tara mutters. You shoot her another look. 

“Good,” Sam says, firmly, “The last thing you need is to be left alone when there’s a maniac running around.”

She pauses, looks at Tara, seriously. 

“When you get out of the hospital, I want you to come back home. With me.” 

“I’m not going anywhere without YN.” Tara says. She puts her plate to the nightstand, wiping her mouth with her hand. 

“So she can come home too.” Sam says, “Richie’s not there, I’m done with him. I need to be near you, Tara, I need to be able to protect you.” 

Tara looks at you. 

“What do you think? Will your parents go for it?” 

You chew your lip. Your Dad hadn’t let you out of his sight for less than an hour since the attack. He’d bought two more shotguns and an industrial style alarm system the night after it had happened. 

“Probably not,” You say, honestly, “I think he’s seriously contemplating installing iron bars on my window.” 

Tara looks back at Sam and shrugs. 

“Sorry.” 

Sam doesn’t look happy. 

“Fat lot of good all that security did last time,” Sam says, “Ghostface slipped right in. It’s all well and good having an alarm system and a gun, but it’s not enough. You need to have someone who actually knows how to use it.” 

Tara’s hand brushes through your hair. 

“It would be nice to go home,” She murmurs, “Maybe you could talk to your Dad? We have an alarm at the house, and it would be easy enough to buy the same locks he has. Sam’s a good shot and she has a lot of guns.” 

You sigh. The prospect of telling your Dad you’re leaving home four nights after a Ghostface attack scares you a little. 

“I can try,” You say, voice resigned. If for nothing else but for poor Sam. You can’t imagine not being in the same house as Tara, not being there to protect her if needed. You know Sam must be going out of her mind. 

“Thank you.” Sam says.

-

“No.” 

You blink. You’d taken your Dad out into the hallway when he’d come back. Told him there was something you needed to tell him. And then not even got halfway into your sentence when he interrupted you. 

“But Dad-”

“If you think I’m letting you go anywhere that isn’t school, you’re out of your mind.” He says, voice stern, “In fact, I’m half considering pulling you out of school all together. Mom googled some good home-schooling courses last night.” 

“Dad, Sam is really worried about Tara,” You plead, “Really worried. Tara said she has an armory at the house. We’d be safe there with her.” 

“The answer is no, YN.” He says, sounding aggravated, “If Tara wants to go home and be with her sister, that’s her choice. But you’re not going anywhere."

You stare. 

“I’m eighteen, Dad, you can’t tell me what to do anymore.” 

He stares back at you. It isn’t often you challenge him like this. You can see the wheels behind his eyes turning, like if he’s not careful you’ll storm off and never come home again. His jaw clenches, then he looks over to Sam and Tara.

He sighs.

“Look - I’m happy for Sam to come stay with us for a few days, if she’s really worried. We can make up the guest room.” He offers. 

You know it's as good as you're going to get.

And so it’s settled. 

Sam accepts, almost immediately. The promise of being near enough to Tara to keep her safe, alluring. She leaves that night to pack, promising to be back in the morning to help bring Tara home. 

When she returns, it’s to you and Nurse Dawson trying to fight Tara into a wheelchair. 

“Baby, it’s just to the car.” You say, hands firm as you lower her into it. Nurse Dawson, she’d fight, but you? She settles for crossing her arms like an angry child. You press a kiss to her forehead, and let Nurse Dawson wheel her outside.  

“This is ridiculous.” Tara grumbles the entire way down, “I can stand, I’m not an invalid.”

“Hospital policy.” Says Nurse Dawson, cheerfully. She’s in a better mood than you’ve seen her in all week, no doubt relieved her moody, pouty, storm-cloud of a patient is finally being discharged. She turns to you. 

“Make sure to clean the wound once a day, like I showed you. Redress and make sure she doesn’t engage in any strenuous activity. If there’s any redness or swelling, bring her right back in.” 

You nod. 

Nurse Dawson squeezes Tara’s shoulders, helps her up into the car, Sam at her other side. 

“I can do it,” Tara snaps, retracting from both of them. She slumps down into the back seat, wincing as she hits the fabric too hard. Her hand draws to her wound. 

You climb into the other side of the car, reach over to help her put on her seatbelt. 

“Say thank-you.” You mumble, look pointed as Nurse Dawson hovers by the car door.

Tara huffs, looks over to the Nurse. 

“Thank you.” She says, not sounding like she means it at all.

-

Sam takes to your family home like a moth to a flame. 

She helps your Dad set up his new security equipment. Trudges in a small suitcase full of guns and offers him a pistol in lieu of his shotgun. She helps your mother make dinner - to Tara’s horror - and even clears the plates, trying to wash the dishes before your Mother shoos her upstairs. 

You help Tara settle into one of the kitchen stools and grab a dishcloth, pulling out Sam’s pre-made vegan cheesecake from the fridge. Tara makes a face.

“Sam is a lovely girl,” Your mother gushes, arm deep in dishwater, “Why haven’t we met her before?” 

Tara crosses her arms, frowning slightly. Pout on her lips. She’s been like this all dinner. Withdrawn. Glaring at Sam from across the table each time your Dad offers her the faintest of compliments. 

“She’s fine.” Tara says, voice loaded, “Other than the drugs and the huge drinking problem-”

“Tara.” You hiss, as your mother looks back, wide-eyed, “She’s kidding Mom, Sam doesn’t have a drinking problem.” 

“Oh.” Says your mother. She wipes her hands against the dish-towel, “Good.” 

She pauses. Hovers. 

“Excuse me a moment.” 

She leaves the room in a flurry, no doubt to go and hide her bottles of aged-Sherry. You move closer to Tara, flick her hand with your finger. 

“What did you say that for?” You groan, “They like Sam. That’s a good thing.”

“They like her more than me.” She says, pouting, “I’m your girlfriend, not her. They’re supposed to like me the best.” 

“They like you fine.” You lie. She squints, shooting you a look.  

“Who cares what they think, anyway?” You say, wrapping your arms around her waist, “I like you more than her and that’s all that matters, right?” 

She considers this. Smiles, slightly. 

“Yeah. I guess so.” 

You lean down and kiss her. 

-

Sam’s room is just down the hall. 

She wants to sleep in your room, you can tell by the way she keeps hinting to Tara over dessert how much fun their little camping sleepovers in the living room were when they were kids. 

When Sam hovers in the doorway near bedtime, Tara groans and snaps at her to go back to her own room. 

“It’s safer if I’m in here with you,” Sam insists. She has her pistol holstered on her hip and she keeps touching it like she’s ready for Ghostface to jump out at any second, “I can protect you both.” 

“I have a gun too.” Tara waves it about, “We’ll be fine. I’ll yell if I need you.”

“Look how well that turned out last time,” Sam says, gesturing to the bandage wrapped around Tara’s waist. 

“Boundaries, Sam.” Tara grumbles, “We’ve talked about this. I can’t breathe when you’re suffocating me like this.” 

Sam huffs. 

“Fine.” She says, and storms back to her own room in a sulk.

“Finally.” Tara says, falling back into the pillows. She draws you down with her, “We’re finally alone.” 

“And going to sleep.” You say, pointedly, “You need your rest.” 

“I feel fine, baby,” Tara insists, “I feel good. And I missed you.” 

“I’ve been with you this entire time,” You say, eyes fluttering closed as she presses her lips to your neck. 

“I know, but I’ve missed you.”

“Tara-” You protest, slightly, “Your stomach-”

“Is fine.” Tara assures. She draws you down into a languid kiss. Squeezes your hips, trying to tilt you over, “There’s nothing wrong with my mouth.” 

“That I know,” You say, raising an eyebrow, “You’ve been running it all day.” 

Tara pouts. You kiss it away. Then draw your hands down her legs, gently climbing atop her. You've missed her too.

“Promise me you’ll lay back and not move too much. Nurse Dawson said no strenuous activity.” 

She nods, mouth falling open slightly at the way you draw her panties down her legs. 

“Good girl.” You whisper against her lips, and then you’re kissing your way down her body. 

You’re gentle with her, so careful not to touch her wound, or move her in a way that will hurt her. 

Her skin is soft, warm, still slightly reddened from the heat of her shower. You brush your lips down her thighs and then kiss your way to her center. She’s not wet, not yet, so you run your hands over her hips, suck lovingly on her inner thighs. Ghost your lips over her folds until you can see evidence of your efforts. Sticky, wet syrup that coats her entrance. The fruits of your labor. 

“Don’t tease, babe.” Tara says, desperately. She’s on her elbows, looking down at you. You flinch as the bandage on her stomach creases. 

“You promised you’d lay back,” You say, hurrying back up to press her down. She draws you in to kiss her, needy, fingers digging into your shoulders as she slips her tongue between your lips. 

“Come up here,” She says, voice low, “Turn around so I can eat you out.” 

Your stomach flips with arousal. She’s moving up, trying to draw you up over her face. But you resist.

“Your stomach, baby-girl,” You murmur against her lips. “I don’t want to hurt you.” 

She huffs. 

“The only thing hurting me is the severe lack of pussy I’ve been not getting for the last four days-” 

“Romantic.” You say, dryly, pulling away from her, “You’ll stay not getting it unless you lie back for me and don’t move. Like a good girl.” 

She bites her lip. Nods, slow. 

You press your lips to hers. Then tilt your way down her body. You stop at her nipples, take them between your lips and suck down until they’re pebbled, hard, and you can feel her wetness against your thigh. 

“Baby.” She groans as you skip right over where she wants you to kiss the inside of her knee. 

“Good girls are patient,” You remind her, drawing her legs over your shoulders. 

She peers down at you, eyebrows raised, “And when have I ever been a good girl?”

She lets out a sharp gasp as you run your tongue along her folds, gently dragging her syrupy wetness up to her clit. Her head falls back onto the pillow, her hands reaching down to clutch a fistful of your hair. Her thighs around your head tighten as you gently run your tongue over her clit. 

Experimental. 

You resist the urge to sigh at her taste. She’s perfect. Sweet and bitter, all at once. You dip down to her entrance, wanting more of it on your tongue. 

You kiss her velvety folds, drag your tongue along her length. Her fingers in your hair are insistent. She presses you down, further into her, writhing only slightly as you take her clit between your lips. 

She likes it harder than this, usually. But you’re slow this time. Gentle. You want to make her cum, softly as you can, without straining her. You want to make love to her. Show her how much you adore her, how glad you are that she's okay.

The way she’s sighing, moans breathy, it seems to be working. 

You alternate between sucking softly on her clit, then swirling your tongue in quiet, gentle circles. It isn’t long before Tara’s moaning out your name quietly, thighs tightening around your head. 

You lick her once more, clean her up, not wanting to waste a drop of her. 

When you kiss your way back up to her body, she’s slumped against the pillows, chest rising steadily. 

“Are you okay?” You ask, pressing a gentle kiss to her lips. You trail your fingertips across her cheek, “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” 

She shakes her head, still a little hazy. 

You look down at her bandage, rub the edges of the fabric, gently. It’s still clean, no blood. You press another kiss to her lips, rubbing her hip. 

“Up here.” She says, trying to pull you up, “I want to go down on you so bad.” She says, breathless. Her hands work down to pull you out of your sleep shorts, tossing your underwear to the side, carelessly. You settle into the spot next to her, take her hand and guide it between your legs. 

“Let’s stay like this,” You murmur, tilting her cheek in your hand, “I want to kiss you.” 

And it's true. You want her as close as possible. You want it to be romantic. You want her lips on you and her fingers inside you. You want to be encompassed by her smell and her taste. You want to be reminded that she's here. She's alive and in your arms.

She complies with a soft nod.

You close your eyes. Her hands between your legs feel like magic. You’re soaked, the way you always got after you went down on her. She rubs her fingers along your slit, coating them in your arousal. You kiss her furiously, sucking down gently on her bottom lip as her fingers work against your clit. 

You groan into her mouth. This, you never got tired of. Kissing Tara, feeling the press of her bare skin against yours. Her lips are as talented as her fingers, her tongue against the seam of your lips flooding you once more as she grazes her fingers upwards, and slips them inside of you. 

The angle is a little awkward, but you don’t care. You rut yourself into her hand, hand around her neck as you kiss. She keeps trying to sit up, you know she wants nothing more than to climb on top of you and fuck you into the mattress. But you hold her down, keep her where you want her. 

You break the kiss as you get close, moan out into the milky skin of her neck. She curls her fingers, then uses her thumb to rub your clit, gently. It hits you like a freight train. You close your eyes, gasp out her name as stars explode behind your eyes. The shock that flushes through you is red, warm. 

You all but collapse into her side, curling a protective arm around her bare waist. She kisses the top of your head, lovingly, then withdraws her fingers. Brings them to her lips and sucks you off them, eyes flashing with arousal at your taste. 

“Now, can I go down on you?” She asks, hopefully. 

You kiss her, “Maybe later, baby.”

She hums, a little disappointed. 

“My belly hurts a little,” She says, voice small. At this, you sit up, concern flashing through your face. 

“Oh, baby.” You say, looking down to inspect the wound, “I am so sorry. I knew it was too soon for this-”

“No,” She says, hurriedly, “That isn’t what I meant. You didn’t hurt me. I just meant I’d feel better if I went down on you, is all.” 

You stare at her for a moment. Then you smack her arm, gently. 

“You’re such an asshole. I was about to go downstairs for more Codeine.” 

“No Codeine needed. Just you,” She pulls you back down to her, eyes wide, pleading, “Please, baby.” 

You sigh. She’s rubbing your arm, big brown eyes wide, the eyes she flashes at you when she wants something. You press down and kiss her. How could you resist her? She’d just been stabbed for you, after all. 

Her hands squeeze your hips. She sits up, tries to push you over onto the bed. Then she winces as it pulls at her wound the wrong way. 

“Shh, baby, just gently.” You say, easing her back against the pillows. 

You press another kiss to her lips. 

“Come up to me,” She murmurs, hands around your thighs. This time you don’t resist. You tilt your body up, shuffle over her head and let her pull you down, hands locked around your thighs like she wants to keep you in place. 

You grasp at the headboard. 

She moans as her mouth meets your clit. Arousal flushes through you at just how badly she wants this. How badly she needs this. 

She doesn’t waste any time.

You’re already soaked, body still thrumming from the first orgasm she’d given you. You close your eyes, tilt your head back as she lovingly sucks down on you, her fingers splayed against your ass, as she’s trying to pull you in as close as she can get. 

You’re embarrassingly close after only a couple of minutes, body flushed red, hands on your own breasts as you ride her face. You cum with a quiet whine, let her lick and suck her way through your orgasm. 

When it’s over, you slump down into the spot next to her, tilting your head into her shoulder. She licks her lips, cleans you off her. And then nudges her nose against yours, pressing the sweetest of kisses against your lips. 

“I love you,” She murmurs. 

“I love you, too.” You say. Kiss her again. 

She’s a little sleepy. You’ve worn her out. You touch her hip, checking on her dressing once more. 

“Does it hurt?” You ask, brushing the strands of dark hair out of her face. 

“It never hurt, I just wanted you to sit on my face,” She admits with a yawn. 

You smile, slightly, entwine your fingers. 

“I know that, genius, you’re hardly Charles Ponzi.”

“Who?” Tara asks, wrinkling her nose. Her eyes droop slightly. You press one more kiss to her lips. 

“Doesn’t matter. Go to sleep.” 

“I’m taking first watch,” Tara says, immediately. 

“You’re taking second watch, because you blew it the first time by not waking me up.” You say, settling into her side, “Go to sleep.” 

She relents, dropping her head to the pillow with a tired hum. 

“We should invite Chad, Liv and Mindy over tomorrow.” She says, voice suddenly weighted, “We need a plan.” 

“We don’t need them to have a plan.” You say after a moment. Mindy’s obsession with finding the killer scares you a little. What if she accidentally stumbled upon the truth? You’d rather keep her out of it. 

“I have a hole in my stomach, and a Sam permanently glued to my side,” Tara grumbles, “If we want to catch this guy, we need them.” 

The weight of reality is back. It’s easy to let it go when it’s just you and her, entwined like this. But the moment you stepped outside this room it fell on your shoulders like an anvil.

You’re not safe, Tara isn’t safe.

Not until you catch the fucker.

[turtlesocksv2]

4 Minutes Ep 2 Liveblogging

ok i'm not even going to look at my dash, i am going straight into this. I have been home for all of 10 minutes but I cannot wait.

oh somebody just got their ass beat Cain and Abel style.

So her son committed suicide because of gambling debts. We know who's running an online gambling operation. I see the dots, I am starting to connect them. also LMFAO at Tyme he does NOT know how to deal with patients it looked like it was physically painful for him while she was talking and he was trying to figure out what the fuck to say/do. and in the end, he does the least. Take these pills and tomorrow there will be another, DIFFERENT doctor who is NOT ME that you can tell this to.

Even the nurses gossip about how intimidating and cold he is. Very interested in Tyme's doctor ex-girlfriend just from that throwaway. Girl, do not drop out of your specialty over a boy!!!

Heyyyy it's my other boy Mio! I hope he gets to be unhinged here as well. And lmao at Title being an Awful Boyfriend Jet is really getting typecast as The Worst Dude. Ohohoho, sneaky sneaky with the phone recording, good job Dome!!!

god this flashback/dreamsequence/thinking about his powers scene is so visually interesting. i love it.

Title, your girlfriend is missing and people are suspecting you are involved maybe don't have a dance party in your car??? waiting for your bestie to help cover it up??? he fucking is keeping her locked up until she won't break up with him anymore oh my god. Jet really DOES play The Worst Dude every time. Great, you could stand to be a little more concerned your friend is a kidnapper here, this is why the goddess of time is telling you to experience character growth and be a doper person.

AND NOW TITLE HAS DOME IN THE TRUNK OF HIS CAR POSSIBLY DYING. THIS MAN JUST CAN'T STOP.

good on Great for kicking Title's ass and taking Dome to the hospital.

Lmao at Tyme fixing his hair and tucking in his scrub top before seeing Great as a patient. the nurse calling him out about it without saying anything is Peak Comedy. this fucking loser.

Tyme, Great is in no condition to be dealing with a Hot Doctor who is Looming like that. he has a head injury! the way Tyme just gets all up in his space...I am losing my goddamn shit at the heartbeat sound effect going on while Tyme is inspecting the wound. God this conversation is excruciating in the best way Tyme is down so bad it's hilarious.

Oooooh, JJay is a cop. Oh that's going to be delicious when we get KornTonklaWin drama from it.

Oh, is Tonkla Title's brother? that's interesting. Win has much better bedside manner/victim comforting than Tyme does. Korn's brother killing Tonkla's brother...the drama.

Oh but now we're getting a confrontation between Great and Title...hallucination? was the dead body not Title? anyway, the ticking clock effect works very well here. love these little audio touches that add so much.

Tyme here to save the day! so Title is indeed alive unless Sammon's getting Real Weird With It which I would respect. Once again, it is physically painful for Tyme to express human emotions "I was just worried" ok stalker. he's such a fucking disaster.

Nepo Baby Kitty returns!!! so fluffy, so majestic, would cuddle and feed sponsored treats.

uh-oh system crash at the illegal gambling operation is probably not great!

oof, Korn, just don't answer at all. no wonder Tonkla's gonna leave your ass for the hot cop.

the cello players are really insane, actually. This mafia uncle has flair, I like it.

I've only known Fasai for 2 minutes and I love her already. Mafia Queen!

...Is Bas going to be Ass Out every episode? Because I'm not complaining, love that for him.

Poor Tonkla, waiting desperately for his Ain't Shit boyfriend/sugar daddy/whatever to call him. But wait, what's this? Hot Cop Win is at the door? Sammon always delivers the "ACAB...except for this one Hot Cop that is only half a bastard." be grateful that Tonkla isn't breaking into your car to steal evidence and do his own investigation, Win!

[emptymanuscript]

So, Trump keeps bringing up the Governor of Virginia allowing infanticide.

He is referencing this specific question and answer statement made on January 30th, 2019 by Governor Northam in a live radio Interview on Washington, D.C.'s, WTOP, as quoted in the Snopes article about Trump's claims from back in 2019.

Julie Carey: ... There was a very contentious committee hearing yesterday when Fairfax County Delegate Kathy Tran made her case for lifting restrictions on third-trimester abortions, as well as other restrictions now in place. And she was pressed by a Republican delegate about whether her bill would permit an abortion even as a woman is, essentially, dilating, ready to give birth. And she answered that it would permit an abortion at that stage of labor. Do you support her measure? And explain her answer. Ralph Northam: You know, I wasn't there, Julie, and I certainly can't speak for Delegate Tran, but I would tell you -- one, the first thing I would say is this is why decisions such as this should be made by [healthcare] providers, physicians, and the mothers and fathers that are involved. There are -- you know when we talk about third-trimester abortions, these are done with the consent of, obviously, the mother, with the consent of the physicians, more than one physician by the way. And it's done in cases where there may be severe deformities, there may be a fetus that's non-viable. So in this particular example, if a mother is in labor, I can tell you exactly what would happen. The infant would be delivered, the infant would be kept comfortable, the infant would be resuscitated if that's what the mother and the family desired, and then a discussion would ensue between the physicians and the mother. So I think this was really blown out of proportion ...

So Trump's argument here is the same disingenuous argument it is most of the time.

It's presenting a discussion about what should happen legally when profound tragedy strikes and everything goes wrong and there's no possible life ahead for the child BUT it's politically convenient to ignore the actual horror and pain of the situation to pretend something entirely different is happening.

This was about Northam saying he didn't want to get involved in a family's end of life decisions for their new born infant who was going to die as soon as they were taken off life support. No future. No life. Unfortunately, it happens. It's about life support at the point of no hope. And that that entire conversation should be between a patient and doctor.

And Trump is framing it, not as a discussion over what the state's role should be in the process of an infant's inevitable death - not even the situation of a possibly viable but extremely unhealthy child as some sort of edge case - but as a discussion over the state's tacit approval of killing a perfectly healthy child for some undefined reason, with the implication that it is mere inconvenience instead of utter tragedy.

It's bullshit.

It's all bullshit.

It has always been ALL bullshit.

And still it rolls on. And on. And on.

While Trump plainly states that he "believes" in exceptions in the case of rape, incest, and the health of the mother - with no mention of the health or viability of the baby because he doesn't actually care - because he has to get the votes. He doesn't care. It's only about the votes. It is purely strategic speaking out of both sides of his mouth without a moral position one way or the other.

But I strongly suspect he's going to be seen as winning this debate just because he has better vocal projection, is trying to say less to keep it simpler, and his lies are emotionally provocative. Like, yeah, he does SOUND better than Biden, if you utterly ignore the god awful content coming out of his mouth.

How? HOW?!? How is Trump a viable candidate for President??? AGAIN!?!

This is such a nightmare. A repeating nightmare.

[dailyunsolvedmysteries-movedd]

Rosemary Morton and Diane Brand

The evening of June 6, 1947 started out like any other for Marian Silleck, a nursing student at Massillon, Ohio’s City Hospital. Stationed on the fourth floor, Marian was one of two night nurses tasked with keeping watch over the hospital’s pediatric ward, including the nursery. At 7:35pm, Marian checked on the nursery’s sole occupants, 9-week-old Rosemary Morton, and 8-week-old Diane Brand, finding them fast asleep.

Ten minutes later, Marian again returned to the nursery. This time, as she approached the cribs that held the two infants, she was met with a startling scene; the two babies lay dying in their cribs, suffering from obvious head wounds. Marian quickly summoned help, but sadly despite the hospital's best attempts to save them, both infants succumbed to their devastating injuries.

Rosemary Morton had been admitted to the hospital on May 19th, after her parents, Evelyn and Harry Morton, grew concerned with her eating habits and lack of weight gain. It was also revealed that Rosemary had a condition that caused her to have a webbed foot and hand, however the condition was not considered a threat to Rosemary’s health.

Diane Brand, the first child of Edna and Leo Brand, had been admitted to the hospital four days prior to undergo surgery to correct an abdominal abnormality. Although the operation had been a success, doctors told the Brand’s to be on standby for a blood transfusion if necessary. When Leo and Edna were summoned to the hospital, Leo went under the pretence that Diane may need blood. However when he arrived, the hospital staff delivered the devastating news to him.

Rosemary was pronounced dead at 9:02pm, and Diane at 10:10pm. Aside from both suffering multiple skull fractures which resulted in catastrophic brain haemorrhages, fingernail marks were found around both infants lower abdomens and sides, and their diapers had been pulled down to their ankles. It was also noted that “dirt smudges” were found on the face and head of Diane. It was immediately theorized that the injuries inflicted upon the infants may have been the result of being held by their lower extremities and swung into the ground or nearby wall with “brute force.” Both of their deaths were determined to be due to blunt force trauma.

No significant evidence was found at the scene, however it was revealed the person responsible may have used any one of four possible routes to gain access to the fourth floor; a self operated elevator, two stairwells, or an outside fire escape. Questioning began immediately, however with a limited night staff, and heavy restrictions on visitors, police were left with few suspects.

While all hospital employees were interviewed, investigators focused the majority of their attention on the fourth floor staff. That evening, there were only two student nurses, and one nurse’s aid working on the floor; Marian, who had made the discovery, Murna Croft, who was also a nursing student, and an unidentified female nurse's aid. All three denied having any knowledge of the crime, however upon a second inspection of the nursery, Marian did notice that the bedding from a third crib had been ripped away as though searched by someone. It was also noted that a strange doll, never before seen by staff nor the parents of the victims, had been discovered sitting on a chair near the cribs.

Although Rosemary and Diane were the sole occupants of the paediatric nursery, they were not the only patients housed on the fourth floor. Just down the hallway was the hospital's maternity nursery. That evening sixteen babies were in the nursery, thankfully they were found undisturbed. However also on the floor, right next door to the nursery, were eight older paediatric patients ranging in age between four and twelve.

Police began questioning the young patients, and while most of the kids denied having any knowledge of the crime, one patient, 6-year-old Roger Gue, claimed to have seen something significant. Roger told police he had witnessed a young man, around 15 years old and dressed in a white coat, enter the nursery just after 7:35pm. According to Roger, he watched as the boy slammed the babies on the floor and then returned them to their cribs, before dashing out of the room and heading towards the elevator.

News of the tragedy had made headlines, and with Rogers' new added “lead,” reporters flocked to the town in the hopes of getting an interview with him. It was during one of these interviews that Roger suddenly presented a shocking solution to the mystery; he had accidentally dropped the infants while attempting to play nurse with them. According to him, after dropping the infants, he heard nurse Marian coming down the hallway. He claimed he quickly returned the injured babies to their beds and ran back to his wheelchair he had left sitting in the hallway, before then returning to his room.

source

[mamamittens]

Woven Between Stacks +18

This ask is part of the Spooktober 2024 Event, for context! And it's the sequel to "Heart Made of Straw", where her old, vague design is used, so it may not totally make sense with this one.

Mine, to be specific, so I suppose it's not shocking that my first smut for my OC would be so terribly long...

Summary: It's been a blissful year of sweet romance with Thatch for Nikia. But as the season of harvest comes to a close, she finds the tension between them rising. A thirst for more increasing with every day she feigns ignorance with mild embarrassment. Worried that the next step will see everything fall apart in light of her true self but, despite her fears, hoping for more. It all comes to a head in an old barn, her hesitation peeled away with careful, loving hands.

And, shockingly, the addition of a someone who had been patiently waiting for her to be ready for a new hurdle.

(Thatch/(Scarecrow/Doll)!Nikia(OC)/Izou)

Warnings: Is this monster fucking, she is a doll-scarecrow hybrid? Threesome, mild objectification kink that's also a praise kink? (they call her doll a lot in a sort of diminutive way, like 'baby girl' but she is literally part doll so?), overstimulation, oral, grinding, unprotected sex, dacryphilia, creampie, cumplay/eating, and implied past relationship between Thatch and Izou. Oh, and needlessly excessive world building.

Word Count: 8,741

It had been a busy year, even with additional help, but harvesting season was in swing once again before Nikia knew it.

Not even her new, startlingly fresh relationship changed that. Though her boss was suspiciously open to the idea of her ‘expanding her duties’ to include visits with his son. To deliver special stock or otherwise check up on him. It was very apparent what his end goal was with that, but even with the obvious support, they had taken things quite slow. Both because of how genuinely busy Thatch was with his regular job and her own… emotional hangups.

She didn’t regret anything! Don’t get her wrong—but it was still very overwhelming how affectionate Thatch was. He was so comfortable being overtly smitten that it flustered her to no end, which he found amusing and cute. Better than frustration, but not by much. She was trying though!

It was just… so hard when Thatch leaned in with that soft look in his eyes and sly smile. Like he was sneaking a treat when he kissed her that only he knew about. The intent to savor clear as his touch lingered. He was never put off about her inhuman features, merely delighted at the new discoveries she allowed. So far, he was most surprised to discover it was just her hair that was straw like. The dark blue and teal underside clumping into thick strands with a few silvery white. Unusual for a scarecrow, in fact, and not dyed as he originally suspected.

Point being, she did, in fact, have insides. Specifically, she had a soft tongue—though he commented that it felt more akin to silk. She took his word for it, never having thought too much about her own tongue like that. He’s already seen her hands, the delicate, segmented doll joints a clear give away if he actually knew anything about scarecrows—which he didn’t. In all fairness, she usually wore gloves just like her coworkers, so he probably assumed that it was the same for them as well.

“I mean, reallyolder scarecrows might be straw inside and out, but… I’m not a totally ‘pure’ scarecrow to begin with.” Nikia admitted sometime after Christmas where a deviously placed mistletoe led Thatch—who was quite drunk—to passionately kiss her. With tongue. And no warning. At the time he was more excited about the kiss than the particulars, but he was confused after the fact. “Did you… kiss me expecting to shove your tongue into bundles of straw?”

“Well… I wasn’t… not expecting that? I mean, I knew you could eat and talk so I figured it was pretty close to my mouth… situation?” Thatch admitted sheepishly. “I’m not usually at your height when you talk and you get so shy when I stare anyway, so I never had the chance to… casually investigate.”

Nikia could remember giving him a dry look and sticking out her tongue. The pointed tip almost reaching past her chin as she flicked it like a lizard or snake just long enough to see his eyes grow wide. A soft, muted pink color and decidedly wet. She barely resisted the urge to blow a raspberry at him before sucking it back in. Concerned he would have decided to touch it or something, he seemed so shocked and curious.

He'd also asked about her choker, where she had to explain it was common for scarecrows to wear a tight ‘closure’ of some kind around their neck to keep the ‘frill’ down. The frill being the edge of their head ‘sack’ of course, though it’s rare for a scarecrow to be in any real danger of losing it without the closure. At most, it could be lifted to about the underside of the jaw before being firmly fastened to their body—her’s went about halfway up her neck. Still, to keep the frill in good condition and to not get caught on something, a ‘closure’ was preferred.

She just happened to prefer a cute red, leather choker with a bow on the back. It was about the only ‘pretty’ thing she wore regularly and was durable enough to warrant it on a farm.

He looked like he was going to ask about the inside but she quickly shut that down.

Absolutely not.

Way too weird and uncomfortable.

Still, aside from some amusing revelations, they had been going pretty steady until this point. Her accommodations were maintained even during ‘off-season’ so he had ample justification to visit his family and spend time with her. The most they’d done was kisses, but as of late Thatch’s hands had gotten… bolder. Gently curious, perhaps. And Nikia hadn’t pushed back against any of it seriously. Though she did draw the line while she was working.

Which, because of the time of year, was all the time now.

Their casual dates usually ending in her nodding off beside him. Which he openly admitted to enjoying, but the underlying tension between them was growing by the day.

“Hey, sweetie, how about we go on a picnic today?” Thatch asked, ambling up to her with a soft smile and a basket already prepared. Nikia heaves up a wheelbarrow with seed sacked neatly in it sheepishly.

“Sorry, hun, there’s still a few barns of extra seed to sort out before the first freeze.” Nikia apologized with a blush, noticing that he’d chosen to wear a nice, soft yellow button down today. He definitely didn’t have it on earlier, but seemed to have changed after breakfast to match the ribbon holding back her hair.

Thatch smiled understandingly, but his eyes lingered on her somewhat disheveled state.

She’d opted to forgo the usual flannel shirt today, wearing only an old tank top under her overalls. The strap falling off her shoulder despite her best efforts. No amount of tightening could give the denim something to hold onto with her smooth, porcelain skin and slender frame. At this point, she was just too focused on finishing organizing seed stores to worry about it. Some of the other scarecrows sealing them up against pests after inspection, which took a little more elbow grease than she could readily give, so she worked on transport with a few other helpers. Her glasses barely hanging onto her nose, nearly slipping free every time she pushed them back up. But she knew what Thatch was looking at, anyway.

Most scarecrows had very thickly textured skin, like sacks, with hay growing out for hair. Their limbs quite durable but not terribly flexible, usually. Joints made from wood deep beneath their ‘skin’ and reinforced by braided faux-muscle, stitch lines marking where the two flex points meet. Straw and more… human details merging into one. Super old, ‘cursed’ scarecrows, of course, are made almost entirely of straw with cloth heads and clothes to keep it all in. But those are pretty rare these days, a majority of scarecrows are just… born more obviously alive. In part due to mixed relationships, which wasn’t terribly surprising given Nikia’s own heritage.

Nikia, however, had socket joints. Which he was definitely looking at right now.

Her skin more akin to porcelain textured like soft cotton or silk rather than utilitarian sacks, which was easy to see but didn’t mean anything to most people. Melting into near total porcelain joints and sections in places that was usually tucked under clothing. Perhaps he had felt those before but thought it was just her clothes or seams. Her cheeks and the bridge of her nose was quite smooth, as an example, compared to the soft cloth feel of her chest. She was more flexible than most, but definitely more fragile because of it. Her heritage leaning heavily into ‘doll’ territory but still too much scarecrow for most. Her hair a mix of wild leafy-straw, curling and falling in waves chaotically rather than straight hair-like fibers the dolls in fashion magazines maintained or even bristly as per scarecrow folk’s usual style.

Life on Newgate’s farm was simple, hard working, and most importantly—bereft of people who gave a shit she was half doll rather than all scarecrow. With the added benefit that no one treated her poorly for appearing to be a scarecrow either, which was even more rare.

People got weird about non-human, semi-object sentient races.

Sheepish she hadn’t really… told him yet, Nikia pushed the wheelbarrow onward. Stopped as he set the basket down on top of her load and stepped close. Hands lingering on her waist as he leaned in and pressed a kiss to her shoulder next to the joint, tenderly pushing up the strap of her overall that had fallen.

“Let me join you.” He breathed out, sending chills down her spine as he took over the wheelbarrow, allowing her to slip out of his way. Sending her a sly wink as he effortlessly pushed it onward at her direction like a show off.

Once they made it out of the hot sun into the relatively cooler barn to hand off the goods, the others cheered.

“Aye! Thatch, fancy seeing you here~!” One laughed, Burns she thought, waggling his heavily stitched eyebrows and grinning. Sending her an amused look as she flushed, removing Thatch’s basket before it could get swept away.

“That’d be the last of it, yeah?” someone asked distractedly from within the stacks.

“Think so!” Burns laughed, watching Thatch perk up. “For this barn at least. Still need to look over the others for damage. Make sure there aren’t any repairs needed before the first freeze—it’ll be a right bitch removing planks after the cold sets in! Forget about painting!”

“Ah, I’ll start on the end near the pasture, then! Tell Oxy if I find anything, right?” Nikia sighed, stroking her hand across Thatch’s shoulders as he pouted. She got a round of affirmatives and muffled jeers as Thatch followed her out.

He nearly skipped ahead with a wide grin.

“Soooo… the barns’ clean, isn’t it?” Thatch asked, noticing that she had picked the farthest one away.

“Nope. Wanted to work my way back homeward. All goes well, it’ll be an early day! Maybe… always something needing to be done around here!” She laughed, looking away from him. “Maybe they’ll want to check the fence if the boys haven’t gotten to it. Heard we’ve had a problem with wolves or something hungry rooting around somewhere out back!” she murmured, picking up her pace as the barn came in sight.

For the most part, Newgate kept all his barns fairly close. Both the ones intended to store things and the ones meant to house the animals he did decide to keep. This one was just the furthest and happened to be the oldest. Apparently, the house used to be further away from the road but convenience drove him to have it moved several hundred yards. Effectively abandoning the barn it had once accompanied.

So it was as old as it looked, with only one set of large doors in and out, faded red paint staining the exterior. The walls thin a bit in places and the loft littered with old hay that would need to be swept out or risk rotting the wood over winter and spring. It wasn’t used much anymore, but it did well enough to house farming equipment and spare bales when needed.

Her boots tread noisily over the dry earth where wheat stalks used to reach high into the sky as she approached the barn.

It was a little eerie, the door left unlocked with only the chain hanging loose around the handles. Rusted metal clanking noisily in the wind until she carefully unwound them and pulled the heavy doors open for a proper inspection. They rattled open with as much grace as she expected, requiring Thatch to wordlessly follow her lead on the other side with considerably less struggle. She noted that the hinges needed tending to, at the very least, but they worked fine otherwise.

The inside was large and mostly barren. Old, forgotten bales of rotting hay and popped tires piled against the far wall. Nothing too serious, but would need removal before something started living in it that didn’t take intrusion lightly. Dusty light filtering in from cracks in the walls and the ceiling above. The wind whistling through in soft bursts.

Nikia carefully walked the perimeter, taking out a pen to poke the wood for termite damage. Taking out flags to stick in the spots that crumbled beneath her firm jab for later inspection. Thatch following her, basket in hand, as though waiting for her to say something.

She didn’t mean to ignore him.

But the look of want on his face when they were alone was… a lot. Torn between a curiosity to reciprocate and fear it would lead to disaster if she did stopping her. She elected for the easy path of pretending she had no idea he wanted anything at all. Poorly, probably, judging by the way he sighed and placed down the basket near the ladder. Despite not actively looking at him, she could feel his presence grow closer.

She panicked.

Sensing the clear desire emanating off his frame, she pivoted from the stack of tires blocking the only wall she had yet to inspect and moved around him to climb into the loft.

Not the… best choice if she wanted to avoid him, honestly, but it was her best ‘innocent’ option beside outside.

And… if she was being honest, she didn’t want Thatch to keep his hands to himself. Not really. She was just so nervous.

He was so sweet and gentle and caring and—

The thought that she’d fuck up somehow haunted her.

She didn’t even manage one rung before Thatch crowded her against the ladder. One hand over hers and the other at her hip as he nuzzled her bare throat just above the leather choker. Skimming his lips against her skin like he was drinking her in. Peppering her with kisses.

“…You’re such a beautiful mystery, Nikia. I just want to take my time and unwrap you.” Thatch sighed, trailing his hand down her arm and gently turning her around. He had that intense look in his eyes again. Cupping her face as he leaned in close, her body falling against the ladder in flustered steps. “Let me see that cute face when I do.” Thatch growled with a sly smile, kissing her senseless.

Her hands bracing against his hot chest as he pinned her against the ladder. Wood groaning loudly as he palmed her ass and began to lift up her thigh. Her moan spilling free as he pulled back, scowling at the aged structure she leaned against like it offended him.

She yelped as he ducked a little to grab her ass with both hands and lift her against his chest. Stumbling back and spinning on his heel to slam her against the support beam of the wall. One of her boots falling free as she gasped, clinging to his shoulders. Her complaint cut off with a moan as he ground his waist into hers.

“T-Thaaaaahn~!” She froze, hands slapping over her mouth, startled at the soft sound she made and blushing furiously.

Thatch looked ready to eat her whole, hands squeezing her ass as he slowly grinned.

“Oh, that was so fucking cute… do it again, angel cake.” Thatch purred, digging in his heels and adjusting so she was pinned by his hips. Freeing his hands to pull hers away from her face. Letting her clutch his hands against the wall as he slowly rocked into her. Darkly pleased at every soft gasp she let slip, clit ground against the harsh line of her jeans and his obvious erection. “W-While we’re here, being honest, you can tell me why you’ve been avoiding this. Avoiding me. Is it just nerves, baby? If you want me to stop—just say the words and I will.” He swore, noting the tears pricking her eyes as she shuddered against him.

“Ah! A-Ahhh~! Th-Thatch! Mmmm~ I-I… don’t—” Thatch began to slow down, concern edged in his features suddenly and she had to shake her head, hips bucking into him. “D-Don’t want you to stop I-I just… I’m… it’s already weird that I…” she let her head fall onto his shoulder.

She felt him press a kiss to her head as he kept the slow, steady rhythm.

“Is it because you work for my old man or because you’re a scarecrow?” Thatch asked softly, ducking his head to kiss her face. “I don’t care about either one, baby. I just care about you.”

“N-Not even a scarecrow. Not really, Thatch. You noticed, didn’t you?” Nikia moaned, just distracted enough by the increasing pleasure to finally speak. “’M weird. Even more weird than a just a scarecrow. G-Got doll bits—it really wigs people o-out!” she whined as he nipped at her throat, driving her to tilt her head up.

“Do they hurt you, baby? Has anything I’ve done hurt?” He asked seriously, pausing a moment to let her breathe. Thumbs stroking the skin of her hands. She shook her head.

“No. I’m pretty flexible. Maybe don’t drop me—can’t take a fall like most scarecrows can, but there’s nothing too different that you haven’t already seen.” Nikia reassured him. He smiled, kissing her softly in thanks.

“Is ‘doll’ an insult for you or…?” he inquired against her lips. She smiled.

“No. No one would think to call me that—I look too… raggedy to be a ‘proper doll’. Too stiff to be a cloth doll. Too soft for a scarecrow. Always too something everywhere but here.” She admitted, relaxing against him as he kept giving her that wanting expression. It hadn’t flickered or changed once, his hands never jerked away.

In fact, he felt as though he was pressed closer.

He smiled, kissing her pointed nose, accidentally pushing up her glasses before pressing a few more kisses across her cheek. Making his way to her pointed ear.

“Then I suppose you won’t mind if I call you my… ‘perfect little doll’?” he asked softly, her heart squeezing at the way his tongue rolled out the diminutive nickname like it was a lewd compliment.

And frankly, it kind of was.

In the right place, implying she could be put on a shelf to be admired was a heady compliment. Borderline an insult in the wrong one, though.

“N-No… don’t let anyone else hear you say that though. Outside of… this, it sounds like you’re saying I’m only useful on a shelf.” Nikia sighed, moaning as he flexed against her, grinding her clit again.

“Ah. Like ‘slut’ or ‘baby girl’, then?” she laughed, nodding her head. “Can’t have that, can we, pretty little doll? No~ you’re meant to be handled with love and care. I’ll never mean it as an insult—but I would always take an excuse to look at you, pretty doll~” Thatch chuckled, resuming his old pace. True to his word, his eyes never left her face as she struggled to not moan with every pass over her clothed pussy. The stiff layers making meaningful contact difficult but providing unrelenting pressure anyway.

He rewarded every little noise she let slip free with a kiss until she was driven breathless and his tongue had little excuse not to crowd her lips. Her heart thundering in her chest pressed against his, breasts spilling out of her tank top with every heaving breath. Teasing her nipples against the rim of her overalls and his soft shirt. Heat pressing in around them as he mumbled soft praise between every lap at her tongue.

“ah~ah! Mm-ahhn~! Th-Thaaaa-tch~!” her glasses were fogged up, completely blocking her vision as she began to fall apart in his rough embrace.

“I know you’re not fucking her against the wall, Thatch.” Izou’s sharp voice cut in like a knife, making them both freeze in shock.

Instantly, Nikia was absolutely fucking mortified.

“I-Izou! I-I’m so sorry—” Nikia struggled to peek over Thatch’s shoulder to where she heard Izou’s voice, glasses still too foggy to see properly.

“Oh, you have nothing to apologize for, sweetheart. In fact, I’m thrilled you’re enjoying yourself. But at minimum, Thatch should be doing this in a bed. Not a barn.” Izou hissed. “She is not a heifer, Thatch. Treat her as such and I’ll kill you myself.”

Thatch, somewhat trying to cover her disheveled state, was still quite sheepish as he turned his head to address Izou.

“A-Ah, well… I didn’t intend to start anything here but…”

“You couldn’t help yourself.” Izou sighed. “I can’t blame you, she’s ridiculously cute as it is, let alone when you’ve got her looking like that. If her crush wasn’t so obvious, I would have tried my luck years ago.”

Nikia froze, still frazzled from the ruined orgasm as she struggled to piece together the obvious implications.

“Well, I can’t say I’m surprised about that. But I am surprised you haven’t made a move since then.” Thatch laughed, relaxing a little to let her stand on her own two feet with an absentminded kiss.

“When she can barely handle holding your hand in public, Thatch? Really?” Izou scoffed. “She’d run into the woods, never to be seen again, if I suggested we give a threesome a try.”

Incapable of denying that, she chose to focus on other things.

“Wait, you…?” she asked softly, her glasses finally clearing up enough to see Izou a few feet away. Comfortable jeans and a pale blue, silk button down shirt left half open, hair braided back out of his face. He looked like he had been working on something nearby and happened to meander over. His expression… achingly familiar to Thatch’s. He smiled sardonically.

“Yeah. You’d be surprised how many people had a crush on you when you first got here. It died down for the most part, but some… hopefuls still clung to it. Until Thatch swooped in, of course.”

“…Not you?” Nikia asked in confusion.

Izou grinned.

“We’ve fooled around together before. Adding the two of you together hardly dampened the attraction.” Izou laughed. “I just didn’t want to make you uncomfortable or get in the way of you both figuring yourselves out. He’s never been so serious with someone before. Seemed a shame to disturb that when you clearly weren’t ready for the suggestion.”

“That serious for you too, then? You would have at least talked to me first if it was just a passing thing.” Thatch called out coyly. His confidence apparently not unwarranted as it was followed by Izou casually shrugging his shoulders. Thatch looked at her with a soft, encouraging smile. “How does that make you feel, doll? Do I need to tell him to fuck off or…?”

Nikia looked between them, more than a little flustered.

She trusted Thatch enough to believe him. To believe that he was both open to Izou’s words and also ready to firmly support her boundaries. For all that he flustered her and gave her butterflies at times, he never once let her down. Open and interested and patient.

What she said, goes, as far as he was concerned.

As for Izou?

Well, he was undeniably attractive, even without the makeup he enjoyed wearing for even daily chores. Sharp witted and clever. She never felt in danger with him around, always certain he’d have her back if it came down to it. Izou made her feel safe. He was incredibly lovely to her in a way few had ever been.

Together?

Together?

It felt impossible. But clearly it wasn’t.

If it had to be anyone though?

She’d want it to be them.

“… you’re not… put off by my…?” Nikia asked softly, stammering a little as she struggled to put it into words.

Izou smiled, shaking his head.

“Knew from day one. Unlike this oaf, I’ve done more than work in kitchens. Used to work on photoshoots in makeup and wardrobe, as well as some modeling work myself. Know several folks that would die for the chanceto dress you up, honey.” Izou grinned with a wink. “Not why I love you, of course. Known plenty of dolls that were fucking brats. You’re too sweet for your own good, honestly. Which is why, even if you want me to leave and pretend this never happened, he’s not fucking you against the barn wall.”

Nikia’s whole world spun as her face flushed at the confession and crude threat.

“Where would you suggest then?” Thatch asked in curiosity tinged with mild annoyance at the reminder they’d been interrupted.

“The loft, of course. Ace set up a bed there ages ago for when he had a sleeping spell coming up but didn’t want his ass eaten up in the sun.” Izou scoffed. Nikia looked up the ladder in surprise.

It made sense, she supposed. She’d seen the young man fall asleep just about anywhere, but waking up to a dozen insect bites was a pain in the ass he never stopped complaining about when it happened.

“Well, that does sound much better… what do you think, doll? Shall we take this to the loft?” Thatch asked meaningfully, tipping his head to Izou in question.

Still dizzy from Izou’s words, she looked at him a tad helplessly.

“I want you to ask. I… I don’t want to ruin our friendship if you don’t mean it or regret it—” her words died in her throat as he confidently strode towards her like he had been waiting for her to say that. Thatch stepped aside with an indulgent smile, Izou quickly taking up all her attention.

His makeup today was light. The only thing noticeable was eyeliner and tinted lipstick, a much more ‘natural’ look than the usual, bold red he preferred. Perhaps in case his chores got too intense. Less work to fix it all before dinner. His dark eyes warm as he reached for her hands. Grasping them firmly, thumbs rubbing her knuckles and the slight seam of her hidden joints.

“Can I kiss you, darling?” he asked softly.

She glanced at Thatch reflexively and found him eagerly awaiting her answer. Gaze soft and accepting with a hint of open hunger. But her eyes were quick to return to Izou, who waited patiently for her answer.

“Yes.” She breathed out, chin tipping up to meet his gentle kiss. Lips melting together as her eyes fluttered shut with his soft groan. Hands releasing hers to cup her face, tongue licking at the seam of her lips that she gladly let fall open. Her hands gripped the silk sleeves of his shirt as she whined. That familiar fire returning with a vengeance.

When they broke off it was slow and lingering, her head hazy as their lips stuck together from his lipstick. She swallowed hard, still tasting fresh fruit he likely snacked on earlier. Oranges, from taste of it.

“…Fuck that was hot.” Thatch broke the silence with an awed, breathless groan. Like he was the one Izou had kissed senseless.

Izou gave him a dry look.

“Grab the basket, Thatch. We’ll follow her up.” Izou ordered firmly, kissing her again for just a moment before grabbing her abandoned boot and closing the door with the boot outside. “That oughta make sure we’re not disturbed.”

Nikia snorted, grimacing as dirt and straw finally registered through her bared sock. Sometimes she’d come across similar sights. At first, she was super confused. She remembers asking her mentor at the time about it, wondering why a single boot was outside a door like that.

The old scarecrow sputtered with laughter and asked if she looked in. She remembers shaking her head with her nose wrinkling.

“Nah, heard some spooky ass noises. Thought it was a cat in labor—I don’t know what to do with a cat giving birth, Marcus!” Needless to say, he laughed even harder at that before explaining it was a polite way of warning others not to come in unless they want an eyeful. “…ah. Like a sock on a doorknob?”

“Aye, like a sock, girlie. Old man Newgate don’t mind us fooling around as long as work gets done.”

Gentle hands pushed her along to the ladder and she startled a little.

“Ack! S-Sorry, ‘zo. Got lost in thought.” She muttered sheepishly, looking back at him. He smiled at her indulgently with an understanding nod.

“Second thoughts?” he asked. She paused on the ladder before shaking her head.

“Nah. J-Just… never really figured it would be in a barn, you know?” she laughed a little, moving along quickly. Her socked foot clicking slightly against the wood. It was closer to porcelain than the rest of her body and, as a consequence, prone to clinking and the cold.

Izou paused under her with a puzzled look on his face.

“It? You don’t mean…?” she cleared the top and gave him a pleading look over her shoulder.

“Don’t say it!” She whined without thinking, blushing furiously, her stomach in knots. “Hard enough ta keep standin’ ‘ere wi’out ya sayin’ it out loud!”

Nikia turned from Izou resolutely before her accent became unrecognizable and looked around.

As she had suspected, it had a few stray bales of hay they never got around to using. Tucked between a few stacks was a cozy little bed made from old, quilted blankets and a few pillows. For someone capable of sleeping anywhere, Ace definitely liked being comfortable if he had the time to spare. It was big enough for her to roll around in without slamming into the hay walls shielding it from the sun-drenched window or the ladder’s immediate vantage point.

A secret sleeping place then.

She heard a whispered argument below but couldn’t completely make out the words. It was resolved quickly though and Thatch’s head poked up into the loft, hoisting the basket above his head with care.

He paused, looking at her with a soft smile.

A little nervous, she gave a wobbly smile and glanced around. Unsure what he was looking at exactly. Looking around the abandoned loft, she decided it had to be her, but his expression was… new.

Relaxed.

Open.

“Hey, doll…” Thatch sighed, finally lifting himself up properly and striding towards her. Pulling her close by her hips as he stared down at her, leaning in close until his lips grazed hers. “You still want to do this here?” he asked.

It was a little funny how often they were both asking—like they were just as nervous as she was.

“As long as its you.” Nikia reaffirmed softly, glancing between the two of them as Izou joined. She pulled the bow out of her hair and let the thick strands fall, Thatch’s hand instantly diving into the mass. Threading his fingers through the frizzy curls and waves to cradle her scalp. Finally pulling her into the kiss his lips had been promising for what felt like an eternity. His boots thudding against the wood beneath them as he stepped closer, slowly driving her back against the hay barrier.

She heard shuffling behind her, Izou huffing as he shifted things around. Any question she had dismissed with an absentminded kiss as Thatch worked to distract her. And succeeded with gusto, his tongue wiping away her thoughts as he swept along her lips slowly.

A whine slipped free as she was suddenly moved, lips parting wetly as Thatch chuckled. Tapping the bridge of her glasses with his fingertip.

“Keep ‘em on, doll?” she shook her head, removing them herself and placing them on top of the haybale before she was guided to lay down on the tidied bed. Jolting in shock as she leaned against Izou’s bare chest. His silk shirt already removed, leaving only a tank top and his unbuttoned jeans, belt nowhere to be seen. Perhaps he had also put his things on top of the hay. “You have the best ideas, Izou. C’mere, doll, let’s get you more comfortable, huh?” he asked, swiftly abandoning his button up, boots, and belt. He took the extra step of shucking off his pants as well, leaving him in only a tank top and boxers.

He plucked the ribbon from her wrist and willingly disturbed his pompadour. Hassling the amber strands until he could pull them all back and tie them out of the way. His hair now in a loose ponytail off his neck. His hands and face free of any possible disturbances, he reached for her lone boot with a cheeky grin. Removing it delicately and tossing it aside.

Izou took the moment she was distracted to glide down the straps of her overalls, slipping her arms free so Thatch could grasp the belt loops and pull.

Slowly, as her heart raced, he dragged her main protection off of her body. Revealing, inch by inch, what was usually hidden in her work clothes. Tank wrinkled over her wide hips, just barely covering the flexible socket joints and soft belly. Izou’s lips pressing along her exposed shoulders as he teased the thin straps of her tank top. Nipping as her thick thighs were revealed, then her knees, and calves. Mindful of the frill, choosing to blow across it before kissing higher up her neck so he could chuckle at her slight shudder.

Until the only thing protecting her modesty was an old tank top and worn panties. Socks barely hanging onto her ankles as they both just… looked.

Her legs were more doll than scarecrow, holding shaped curves and joints rather than tailored cloth and straw. Still, her skin had a certain fabric-like texture and give that no doll would normally have.

Normally, she hated people seeing her. At all, really, but especially anything but her face.

Uncanny.

Unnerving.

A haunted doll but not.

Fucking spooky—

“Beautiful.” Izou breathed out, his words curling into her ear with such unbridled desire she shuddered, pushing aside her hair to make room for his voyeuristic intent. Her legs reflexively coming together only for Thatch’s broad hands to boldly cup her thighs and gently part them for his hips. Letting his palms skim along the back of her thighs to support her knees, his lips pressing into the joint shamelessly. Fingertips toying with the unique softness, deceptively giving after the initial, firm contact.

“Fuck, maybe we should put you on a shelf, doll. Perfect height to kiss your pretty legs whenever we want.” Thatch mused playfully, slowly extending her right leg up, watching carefully how she handled the motions. Until her leg was straight up and beginning to bend in the wrong direction, where he then paused to push her knee towards her shoulder, half keeping an eye on her passive expression. His own growing more heated until Izou could—and did—kiss her calf. His chuckle blowing hot across her skin before Thatch gently placed her leg back onto the floor. “None of that hurt, did it?”

Nikia snorted.

“Doll joints. Arguably too flexible. Easy to overextend though, so try not to break them. It’s… really not pretty getting them fixed.” She replied confidently, at first, and then a little nervous.

“Never in a million years, baby.” Thatch promised, settling on his front and sliding her thighs over his shoulders. His breath hot in the intimate space between them, seeping into her panties as he kissed along the pale skin with a curious hum.

“Soft, isn’t she?” Izou mused against her throat, licking at the seam of her choker.

“Soft as a rose, Izou. Makes me wonder if I have to look out for thorns.” Thatch chuckled, curling his hands to cup her ass, holding her in place as he pressed his lips against her clothed pussy.

Her breath hitched in her throat as she felt his tongue seep into the cotton, parting her with a firm lick.

“No thorns here. Just a pretty little doll for us to play with.” Izou chuckled, sinking his teeth into her throat teasingly. Soaking her skin with wet heat as Thatch laughed as well. His mirth vibrating straight to her clit along his tongue. She cried out softly as he kept driving his tongue against the cotton barrier, lapping at her quivering entrance and clit in turns, sucking it to make her squirm.

The sight of Thatch between her thighs, hair pulled back with her own ribbon as he greedily teased her pussy made her moan. Her hands twitching as she reached back to clutch at Izou, afraid if she touched Thatch he’d stop, or perhaps worse—go deeper.

Izou laughed at her predicament, kissing her damp skin and fondling along her heaving ribs. Slowly pulling down the fabric until her bra spilled free. Thatch glanced up, eyes hot as he slipped his tongue along the side of her panties as though warning her.

“Th-Thaaatch~!” Nikia begged, though not sure for what exactly.

“Can I kiss you, doll?” he asked with a sly grin pressed into her soaked panties. She nodded, face burning. Izou reached behind her bra and unclipped it, tossing it away eagerly. Distracted as she was with Izou’s preoccupation with her freed breasts, she didn’t notice Izou using one hand to reach down and pull aside her panties, freeing Thatch to dive into her pussy like a man starved. She gasped, arching her back and moaning as Thatch’s hot tongue slipped into every intimate fold.

“He’s such a good kisser, isn’t he?” Izou teased, his hands now taking full advantage to lift her heavy breasts. Flicking over the stiff nipples as he explored the unusually soft part of her body. The only other place so freely soft was her hips and pussy—which was very noticed and appreciated by the sounds they both made as they toyed with her.

Nikia choked, sputtering somewhere between a cry for mercy and the desire for more as Thatch slipped in a thick finger, teasing apart her walls.

“H-He is! He is~! Ah-Ahhhnn~ Thatch—Oooooh, Thatch, please!” Nikia begged, turning to Izou as she struggled to breathe, tears in her eyes like she expected him to fix her distress. If she was thinking clearly, she would have known he wasn’t about to do a damn thing to help her do anything but squirm. Izou was flushed with desire as he smiled indulgently, kissing her lazily. Ignoring her cries as he toyed with her breasts and Thatch slowly fucked her open with another thick finger. The loft filled with wet, slick sounds and moans of appreciation.

Thatch groaned, pulling away as a third finger gently burned in her opening.

“Must be candy between these thighs, you taste so damn sweet. Could do this all day—maybe I will sometime in the future. Lay you out on my sheets and drink you in.” Thatch panted, his hand pausing. “Oh, but that’s later—keep looking that good and we’ll be here all night.” His fingers curled against her tight walls and she froze, sparks lighting within her as he played her cunt just right.

Izou’s tongue curled against her own, crowding her mouth as he muffled her whining. Palms hot against her breasts as he pinned her in place for every growing wave of pleasure.

It was only as she began to crest, Thatch’s hand firm on her ass as he kept a steady pace against her walls, that Izou pulled away from her lips. Thatch hitting the spot that made her whole body twitch with eerie precision. Driving soft, muffled moans from her lungs until she seized, gasping for breath as her legs trembled. Crying openly to Izou who only seemed to mockingly soothe her.

“There we go, let it happen, honey. We’ve got you~” Izou cooed, Thatch joining in with soft words against her soaked pussy.

“Perfect little doll, like a wet, velvet dream~” Thatch praised, lapping at her folds and clit until she began to wind down. “Does our pretty little doll want more, or are you done playing, baby cakes?” he asked gently with a pleased grin at her state.

Nikia couldn’t think clearly, mind still a million miles away as her lips answered anyway.

“Wanna play more.” She whined softly, still weak all over. They chuckled, kissing her skin wherever they could reach. Thatch’s fingers rolling against her walls softly as he sucked her clit.

“You going to give her what she wants or should I?” Izou asked sarcastically, pinching her nipples as she weakly moaned.

“Maybe you should. It’s such a pretty view already.” Thatch agreed amicably, pulling away his hand with a wet sound to tear off her panties. “Long as she faces this way, I can keep kissing that pretty pussy as I like.”

“Well, doll, wanna give him a show?” Izou asked.

“S-Show?” Nikia asked hazily, shaking her head, “W-What’s there to see?” she muttered. Izou clicked his tongue.

“We’ll show you how good you look fucked out later, doll. Right now I want you to make a mess of my cock.” Izou huffed, lifting her up to adjust his jeans down his hips, Thatch assisting in removing them.

“Let me settle her on you, babe.” Thatch offered, sweeping up her knees as she pitched backwards onto Izou. She tried to watch but found her breasts in the way, settling on rolling her head back as the hot tip of Izou’s cock nuzzled her dripping pussy. Teasing between the folds, slowly slipping as Thatch used her body to take Izou’s tip. His length driving into her in gentle thrusts.

Louder than her own soft, plaintive cries, Izou groaned into her skin. Trying to stay still as he breached her.

“I-Izou~ Izou, please, I-I w-w-aaaahhhn~” she slurred, squirming against Thatch’s firm grasp. Panting as she tried to keep her breathing steady with little success. A second pair of hands settled on her ass with a heavy grip.

“Yeah, doll? What do you want? Speak up, little doll. How do you want us to play with you?” Izou panted, biting her neck teasingly.

“H-Harder! Please, harder!” she begged.

Thatch laughed, leaning forward to kiss her cheek.

“No can do, pretty thing. Sweet dolls like you get fucked softly. Don’t want to break you, now do we?” he asked with a coy smile as she finally sank to the hilt of Izou’s cock. “We get to play longer that way, little doll~” he slowly released her thighs to Izou’s grasp as he adjusted, driving his cock deeper while he moved to his knees. Arms lifting up to lock her thighs open, forearms pressing her breasts up.

“We’ll wear you out in no time, doll.” Izou warned softly before bouncing her on his thighs in small, slow motions. Letting her feel every inch of his cock as it pulled out and slipped back in. She moaned in frustration, the sound hitching as Thatch’s hot breath wafted over her exposed cunt. Tongue swiping up her clit and dragging to where her folds split open around Izou’s cock. “There we go~ any complaints now, pretty little doll~?” Izou teased as she shook, swiftly overwhelmed with their greedy passion. He groaned, Thatch’s tongue slipping past her pussy for a moment before returning eagerly.

“Ah!Ah!A-Ahhhh~! I-Iz-zoooouu~! Thatch! N-No fair! H-Hot! O-Oooooh~!” Nikia whined, shaking her head as she came too fast, Thatch laughing as he licked up her cream.

“Wanted it harder when you can barely handle it soft~ What a silly little doll~” Thatch cooed. “Imagine if we did bully your little pussy, baby doll? You’d be crying so hard about it by now—good thing we know how to play nice, don’t we Izou?” he asked softly, taking a moment to kiss her hot belly.

“So nice~” Izou purred, kissing her shoulder with soft pants from the effort of maintaining his steady pace.

“No—yer both m-mmmm-ean~!” Nikia protested hoarsely, sobbing as her body burned with the rise of another orgasm.

Through blurry vision and overstimulated tears, she watched Thatch rise up and nuzzle her hair with a pitying laugh. Pausing to press against her pinned body fully, giving Izou a deep, wet kiss. Letting her hear them both groan harshly, tongues twisting noisily with hot, moist breaths practically pouring into her ear. She felt Izou’s body twitch, slamming his throbbing cock in short bursts before he could control himself. Thatch’s cock burning hot and grinding into her splayed out folds, rubbing her clit as they got lost in each other.

If Izou’s cock wasn’t so deep inside her—if Thatch’s hands didn’t tease her squished breasts—she’d think they’d forgotten she was there.

But she was and they knew it.

Relished it.

Both clearly aroused by her so helpless for them in a way that would feel horribly objectifying if it wasn’t so passionate and out of deep love.

If she was an object for them, it was one of utter devotion and desire. Fucking her in whatever way they could because they couldn’t stand holding back another second.

“You’re just not used to playing with us, doll.” Thatch finally huffed, stroking her slick skin as she tried and failed to hold back her whines. Kissing her deeply this time, his tongue tasting unusually sweet as Izou groaned into her ear. “Just enjoy the ride, pretty little doll~ we’ve got you.” And then he sank back down, licking at her heaving breasts and nipping the stiff peaks. Content with sucking the soft skin as he rubbed her clit in slow circles.

“We’ve got you.”

And that was exactly the problem.

“P-Perfect little doll to play with~ so soft and sweet on my cock, can’t believe it took so long for us to love you like this.” Izou breathed out, hilting harshly and pausing, panting as he sucked a deep mark onto her neck once again. His cock throbbing inside as she whined, struggling to squirm in their embrace. “Not done playing yet, doll.” His voice curled darkly in warning, resuming his soft, relentless pace.

Thatch remained affixed to her body, seemingly drunk and spoiled for choice between her dripping, filled cunt and her bouncing breasts propped onto Izou’s firm arms. She would have assumed he was unaffected if it wasn’t for his vocal appreciation of the display they presented and the soft, wet thuds lower down. The source clear when he grunted after a particularly loud moan of hers, and hot cum splashed across her body. Thatch shamelessly rubbing his cum into her wet folds and sore breasts like it was a massage.

Izou only seemed to speed up once she was limp and panting for air, finally unable to take her clenching down on him over and over again. Fingers locking behind her neck and forcing her to hazily watch her breasts bounce, Thatch’s unmistakable head of hair between her thighs. She could feel Izou’s balls slapping against her puffy cunt from the force of his desperate thrusts. Her body hot and worn thin by the time Izou’s cock jerked and spilled inside her. Drops spraying free to join the mess on his thighs. Thatch moaning as he sucked her throbbing clit through the last, violent wave.

The complaint that she breathed out was thin and barely a ghost of a sound as Izou pulled out. Laying her down with a rain of kisses and praise along her heated skin. Lifting her thigh for a moment.

“Oh, what a cute mess your pussy is, doll~ almost wish I had the energy to play with it some more.” Izou sighed, brushing his hand along her swollen cunt. She twitched against his gentle touch, mixed arousal seeping out in a thick slide. She gasped as his slender fingers pushed the spilled cum back into her. Taking a moment to smear against her overstimulated walls with his eyes fixed on her pussy. After a moment he pulled out, watching the lewd string pull free with him, sticking and dripping down his hand until he lapped it up. “Oh, you do taste sweet, I can barely taste myself it’s so strong. I see why you wanted to keep eating her cute pussy, babe. Always did have a sweet tooth.”

Thatch grabbed Izou’s hand and noisily lapped up the rest as Nikia watched with wide, mortified eyes. Body clenching at the dark look in his eyes, hazy as it was without her glasses, when he finished and glanced down at her. Looking like he was a hairsbreadth from diving back into her messy, overwhelmed pussy.

“…I kind of thought you’d finish sooner than that.” Thatch finally murmured into the air with only a little bit of accusation as he kissed Izou deeply. Izou made an embarrassed sound after a long moment, distracted as he was by Thatch’s tongue. “I was watching and managed to squeeze one out. Would have came without any touch if I tried, she looked so cute fucked out on you—can’t imagine how hot she felt.”

“Alright, fine. I didn’t think she’d want this again so I… wanted to make the most of it. Or convince her it was worth a shot.” The other man responded breathlessly.

Nikia whined, shifting onto her back after a long moment. Only just regaining feeling in her pussy that wasn’t electric tingles. She squinted into the soft light to where she assumed Izou was.

“Wouldn’ ‘ave let you if ah ‘idn’t wan’ you.” She told his hazy figure, weakly holding out her arm and clearing her throat as he took her hand in his. “H-Hmm, might w-wait a bit before I-I do that again, though.” She mused.

Izou kissed her knuckles apologetically.

“Next time I’ll be actually nice” he breathed out and her whine was instant and loud.

Thatch let out a bark of laughter, flopping down beside her to pull her in close. He was just a little too hot for her preference but it felt nice being held anyway. Thick hair tickling her sweaty skin in a way that made her nose wrinkle.

He peppered kisses along her face.

“Yer turn?” she asked softly and he paused.

“I mean, if you’re up for it… but I liked the show regardless.” He kissed her brow with a soft smile. With some effort, she hooked her knee over his hip, Izou settling in behind her. Pointedly supporting her attempt to actively participate despite her exhaustion.

“C-Careful? And not… so long this time. Too tired for that again.” Nikia admitted, looking up at him with a somewhat pleading smile.

“Course, baby doll~” He agreed easily, reaching down between their thighs to adjust himself. His cock slipping between her folds, gathering slick until he was certain of himself. His hand stroking and kneading her soft ass to brace her for him. She almost complained about how long he was taking, but the steady, encroaching thickness shifted her voice into a soft moan. “F-Fuck, how’d you do it, babe? She’s so soft and tight—a-ahh! W-Wish I could hold back and love you for hours, our perfect little doll~” His pace faster than what Izou tormented her with, thick cock throbbing against her overstimulated walls, clearly already on the edge. Izou’s hand slipping around her waist to circle her clit, trying to ease her into an orgasm alongside Thatch.

Thatch kissed her softly, tongue lingering against hers with sensual motions. Savoring her soft moans with his own, deep groans. Their lips barely parting for air as she let him consume the last of herself. The both of them gasping as he finally spilled into her aching pussy, cumming together hard.

He lingered, grinding into her weak body with fevered kisses along her cheeks.

She fell asleep like that for some time, surrounded and filled by the both of them. Neither flinching at her unusual features—her strange, inhuman body.

She was woken up a little while later and given water to drink and a light snack of homemade jam and crackers.

“We let them know we’re camping out here. You can go back to sleep, baby.” Thatch promised.

She was already half gone though, certain she was safe with them. The crisp autumn air struggling to invade the cozy bubble of body heat and hay around her. She kissed one of them somewhere in thanks, eyes closed and drifting off. Receiving her own kiss in return, a gentle peck on the lips.

She was exhausted and worn out. And yet, somehow, impossibly loved.

[killed-by-choice]

“Nikki Roe” (USA 2009-2019)

A retrospective study was conducted using data from Rush University Medical Center, Northwestern Memorial Hospital and other Northwestern-affiliated hospitals. The study collected data on patients who received care at those hospitals for complications of second trimester abortions or surgical intervention for fetal demise. “Nikki” was one of many who suffered complications from an abortion late in pregnancy, and the hospital she went to was unable to save her life.

Nikki was at least 23 weeks pregnant when she underwent a eugenic abortion at an unspecified facility because her child had been diagnosed with anomalies. (The study does not specify what the diagnosis was or what testing was done to confirm, but many prenatal diagnostic tests have a high rate of false positives.) She had a history of one previous C-section but had no recorded health problems.

Nikki’s baby was subjected to a lethal injection of potassium chloride. Misoprostol was then administered. The FDA has warned that no company has actually sent them scientific proof that the drug is safe and effective for this use, and that it can cause serious side effects. According to the FDA’s warnings on misoprostol, these potentially lethal side effects are more likely if the patient has had a previous C-section and is farther than 8 weeks pregnant.

Nikki delivered her dead child, but began to show symptoms of profound DIC while the placenta was still inside of her. She underwent an emergency D&C, exploratory laparotomy and finally a hysterectomy in an attempt to save her life, but went into cardiac arrest. CPR was attempted, but she couldn’t be revived.

Nikki had apparently suffered an amniotic fluid embolism. This was a foreseeable consequence because the FDA had warned that the off-label use of misoprostol in this way had been known to result in AFE, DIC and maternal death (among other problems).

Many parents report being pressured to abort if their child was diagnosed with any kind of anomaly in utero. A few other women and girls killed by abortion for known or suspected fetal anomalies include Jennifer Morbelli, Alerte Desanges, Linda Boom, Gabriella Cipolletta, Michelle Madden, “Beverly Roe” and “Mandy Roe.” Marla Anne Cardamone and Allegra Roseberry also died after being coerced into eugenic abortions, only for their loved ones to later discover that there had never been any fetal anomalies after all.

[dailyunsolvedmysteries]

Rosemary Morton and Diane Brand

The evening of June 6, 1947 started out like any other for Marian Silleck, a nursing student at Massillon, Ohio’s City Hospital. Stationed on the fourth floor, Marian was one of two night nurses tasked with keeping watch over the hospital’s pediatric ward, including the nursery. At 7:35pm, Marian checked on the nursery’s sole occupants, 9-week-old Rosemary Morton, and 8-week-old Diane Brand, finding them fast asleep.

Ten minutes later, Marian again returned to the nursery. This time, as she approached the cribs that held the two infants, she was met with a startling scene; the two babies lay dying in their cribs, suffering from obvious head wounds. Marian quickly summoned help, but sadly despite the hospital's best attempts to save them, both infants succumbed to their devastating injuries.

Rosemary Morton had been admitted to the hospital on May 19th, after her parents, Evelyn and Harry Morton, grew concerned with her eating habits and lack of weight gain. It was also revealed that Rosemary had a condition that caused her to have a webbed foot and hand, however the condition was not considered a threat to Rosemary’s health.

Diane Brand, the first child of Edna and Leo Brand, had been admitted to the hospital four days prior to undergo surgery to correct an abdominal abnormality. Although the operation had been a success, doctors told the Brand’s to be on standby for a blood transfusion if necessary. When Leo and Edna were summoned to the hospital, Leo went under the pretence that Diane may need blood. However when he arrived, the hospital staff delivered the devastating news to him.

Rosemary was pronounced dead at 9:02pm, and Diane at 10:10pm. Aside from both suffering multiple skull fractures which resulted in catastrophic brain haemorrhages, fingernail marks were found around both infants lower abdomens and sides, and their diapers had been pulled down to their ankles. It was also noted that “dirt smudges” were found on the face and head of Diane. It was immediately theorized that the injuries inflicted upon the infants may have been the result of being held by their lower extremities and swung into the ground or nearby wall with “brute force.” Both of their deaths were determined to be due to blunt force trauma.

No significant evidence was found at the scene, however it was revealed the person responsible may have used any one of four possible routes to gain access to the fourth floor; a self operated elevator, two stairwells, or an outside fire escape. Questioning began immediately, however with a limited night staff, and heavy restrictions on visitors, police were left with few suspects.

While all hospital employees were interviewed, investigators focused the majority of their attention on the fourth floor staff. That evening, there were only two student nurses, and one nurse’s aid working on the floor; Marian, who had made the discovery, Murna Croft, who was also a nursing student, and an unidentified female nurse's aid. All three denied having any knowledge of the crime, however upon a second inspection of the nursery, Marian did notice that the bedding from a third crib had been ripped away as though searched by someone. It was also noted that a strange doll, never before seen by staff nor the parents of the victims, had been discovered sitting on a chair near the cribs.

Although Rosemary and Diane were the sole occupants of the paediatric nursery, they were not the only patients housed on the fourth floor. Just down the hallway was the hospital's maternity nursery. That evening sixteen babies were in the nursery, thankfully they were found undisturbed. However also on the floor, right next door to the nursery, were eight older paediatric patients ranging in age between four and twelve.

Police began questioning the young patients, and while most of the kids denied having any knowledge of the crime, one patient, 6-year-old Roger Gue, claimed to have seen something significant. Roger told police he had witnessed a young man, around 15 years old and dressed in a white coat, enter the nursery just after 7:35pm. According to Roger, he watched as the boy slammed the babies on the floor and then returned them to their cribs, before dashing out of the room and heading towards the elevator.

News of the tragedy had made headlines, and with Rogers' new added “lead,” reporters flocked to the town in the hopes of getting an interview with him. It was during one of these interviews that Roger suddenly presented a shocking solution to the mystery; he had accidentally dropped the infants while attempting to play nurse with them. According to him, after dropping the infants, he heard nurse Marian coming down the hallway. He claimed he quickly returned the injured babies to their beds and ran back to his wheelchair he had left sitting in the hallway, before then returning to his room.

source

[naoa-ao3]

Learning to Fly

It all happened so fast that no one was quite sure what had gone wrong. One second they were in the middle of a fight with AIM and the next second they were all blinded by a flash of light.

When the brightness faded there was no trace of AIM and Steve breathed a sigh of relief. "They retreated." He said, lowering his shield and taking a moment to wipe the sweat from his forehead.

Next to him Iron Man dropped from the sky. "Do we know what they were after?" He asked, eyes roving the warehouse's interior. They had been notified of a break in in a shipping warehouse along the river. Once they had gotten there, they had found almost a dozen AIM agents attempting to loot the place.

Steve shook his head. "No idea. Who owns this warehouse?"

Iron Man consulted JARVIS. "Hank Pym."

"Someone should tell him his place was broken into."

"I'm sure he already knows." Next to them a box was thrown into the air by Natasha as she extracted herself from underneath a pile of crates.

"What was that flash of light?" She asked, eyes narrowed.

Tony flew to a box and then contacted JARVIS again. "JARVIS, get me Hank Pym on the line." He said. There was a moment and then the doctor's face appeared on the inside of his visor.

"Tony?"

"Dr. Pym, we just stopped some AIM guys from raiding one of your warehouses down on the water. Any idea what they were after?"

The doctor shook his head. "Nothing of value. The only thing I stored there was a canister of alternate dimension Pym Particles Reed Richards gave me."

"Think that's what they wanted?"

"Could be but I don't see why unless. . ." Hank's eyes wondered off. "No one came into any contact with them, did they?"

"I don't think so. . ." Tony looked around. "Hey, where's Hawkeye?"

"Did AIM get him?" Steve asked.

"JARVIS, scan for life signatures. There should be four."

"There are four sir." JARVIS answered while Hank waited patiently on the line. "Mr. Barton is lying underneath the pile of crates to your left."

Steve hurried over to the mess of crates and began pulling them away.

"Hank, where's the canister of Pym Particles?"

"I stored it in a corner. It's mixed in with a bunch of crates and empty canisters. It's got a black band around it."

Natasha began to look for it. "This is broken." She said, holding up a glass canister with jagged crack down it's side and a black band around the middle.

Tony switched his visuals with the doctor to a projector in his arm so Hank could see. "Is that it?"

Hank's face went white. "Not good." He said. "You need to make sure no one came into contact with any of the particles."

"What do they do?"

"Reed brought them back from an alternate universe for me to study. Instead of shrinking things and removing size matter like normal Pym Particles, they remove time. I tested them on lab mice and they reduced the mice you babies. I don't know what they'll do to a human, obviously I never tested them on a person but I suspect that it'll be the same thing."

"Found him. . . Tony?" Steve's voice broke off and Tony whirled around. Captain America had managed to extract Hawkeye from the pile of crates but the Hawkeye they had found was substantially different from the one they had expected. He was smaller and he was shrinking, fast. His features were changing, his cheeks filling out, legs shortening, fingers becoming smaller.

"Don't touch him!" Hank warned. "Don't come into contact with the particles until he stops aging."

"Is there a way to stop the process?" Tony asked sharply.

Hank was flipping through papers on his end, Tony could hear the pages turn. "A volt of electricity might stop it. They're highly volatile particles with short life spans when they're not dormant in containment. Do you have any way of shocking him?"

The boy in front of them had now regressed past the point of adolescence and was working on doing away with puberty.

Without hesitation Natasha bent and delivered a powerful shock to the boy from her Widow Bites. His body jolted and spasmmed but the aging slowed and after a few seconds stopped. Tony breathed a sight of relief as the final particles died. They were now left with a child no more than five or six years old. He lay still, breathing normally, face slightly flushed.

Tony cursed. "Did it work?" Hank asked urgently.

"Yeah. He's stopped."

Steve removed his glove and felt the boy's forehead. "He has a fever." He said.

"That's normal. The mice retained elevated temperatures for twenty four hours afterward. I don't know how long his will last but it should go away. He aged much slower than the mice. I can only calculate that to be because as a human he had more years to lose."

Natasha bent curiously and then drew away. "We should take him back to the tower. Dr. Pym, is this just a physical regression or will he mentally have regressed as well?"

"I don't know. I brought in a behavior specialist with the mice who was fairly certain they regressed mentally as well so I assume it will be the same with a human. . ."

Steve scooped the boy up and Natasha picked up the clothes that had fallen away. "Do you have a way to reverse this?" He asked.

There was the frantic flipping of pages on the other end of the connection. "Not yet but I'll get right on it. I'll contact Reed Richards too and see what he knows. Oh, and you should talk to Doctor Strange too. I don't know how much help he'll be since this isn't magic and all of Hawkeye's years should still exist in the universe inside of these Pym particles but I don't know if I can reach that universe through this one or if I can access it only through the universe Reed obtained them from. . ." They could hear pages turning and computer keys clacking. Hank broke off his rambling. "Point is he's stable and should be safe for now. Just take care of him until I can find a way to fix this."

"Keep us updated." Tony said, breaking contact. With Hank gone he swore. "Damn it. Alright, lets get him back to the tower before he wakes up."

They carried the boy to the jet and it was a smooth ride back. Clint did not wake but Natasha seemed concerned about fever. "It's getting worse." She said, touching the little boy's forehead lightly.

"Hank said it'll go away in a day." Steve said, he looked down at the boy and felt a surge of apprehension. Clint was small and there was a chance he wouldn't know any of them when he awoke. He had been trying to figure out how to tell such a small child why he was with a group of strangers and why he wasn't at home but nothing good had come to mind.

Awkwardly he ran a hand through his hair. "Er, what do you know about him as a kid?"

Natasha straightened up in her seat. They were in the back of the jet together looking over the boy while Tony piloted the plane. "He hasn't talked all that much about his childhood, to be honest. . ." She said carefully. "Mostly he laughs off serious questions."

Steve sighed. "What about Shield? What do they have on him?"

She gave him a long look before deciding that it was against common interest to pretend that she hadn't read all of their files. "His parents died when he was eight. He and his brother Barney were placed in an orphanage where they stayed for six years until both boys ran away and joined the circus."

Steve looked at Clint. "So at the age he is now, his parents are probably still alive."

"Yes."

"All okay?" Tony called over the intercom.

"We're fine. He's still out." Natasha said. She began to rummage through her back pack. "Drop me off at Sears. I'm going to pick him up some clothes." She began to change quickly. Steve averted his eyes.

"Good idea." Tony called. "Take my credit card. No limit. Spend to your heart's content."

She grinned briefly as she pulled a shirt on over her head. "You sure you mean that? 'Cause Sears has a summer sale on a pair of Diamond earrings that would go great with the dress I bought last week."

"I'll amend that. Spend to your hearts content on things that won't put me out of a house."

She laughed ad threw open the hatch door. "Like that could ever happen. We're here. Swing low."

"Sweet Chariot." Tony chimed before she jumped out onto the roof of the store. Steve closed the hatch and looked back at the boy. He hadn't moved. He went and sat down.

"You okay, Cap?"

"Yeah, just a little overwhelmed."

"Hank'll fix it. He a smart man and if he's got Reed Richards working with him then nothing can stop them."

"I hope not. Did you hear what Natasha said about his parents?"

"Yeah. We'll have to be careful what we tell him."

Steve nodded and sighed. This was going to be one heck of an adventure.

This is a 20 chapter story that has been completed! Since I'm not entirely sure of a good way to post multichapter fics to tumblr I've posted a link to the whole story on Archive of Our Own. I hope you enjoyed reading!

[enigmakiwi]

Oh man, this episode is really weird. I'm gonna talk about it and another abortion themed episode under the cut.

The patient here is a recent victim of sexual assault. She came into the clinic extremely upset and disturbed, suspecting she might have an std. And she had the bad luck of House being assigned to her. So... he gave her the condescending "you know what a condom is, don't you?" Speech he gave to a few other people that day. Which obviously upset her. Once he realized what happened to her, he left immediately and told Cuddy that he shouldn't be treating her because... he's House. And Cuddy agreed. However, the patient vehemently insisted on House treating her and wouldn't speak to anyone else— she did not know who he was prior to this, so it wasn't because of his renown as a talented diagnostician. One of the main questions of the episode is why she would only speak to him. She also tried to commit suicide at one point while other doctors were attending to her.

House missteps while talking to her several times, which is kind of to be expected. But he tries to make her feel less alone and at least sort of safe. He has no idea what to do and asks all his colleagues what he should say, and everyone gives him wildly different answers. Many different philosophies on how to comfort or even just talk to a recent SA survivor are explored. House fucks them all up.

And then he discovers that she's pregnant. He delivers the news and assumes she'd want to abort. However, she's adamant about keeping it, citing murder and god and shit. This is that scene. I saw some people in the notes saying that House is probably trying to save her life, and she'll probably die without an abortion, but that's not the case.

The patient reveals eventually that she only wanted to talk to house because he seemed hurt too, and then House finally gets honest with her. They open up to each other about their respective abuse— we learn that House was abused by his father. The patient changes her mind and has an abortion in the end, seemingly after taking a moment to really think about it instead of going with her "abortion is murder" gut reaction.

This episode is bizarre and kind of uncomfortable? Especially because the side plot is a terminally ill man refusing treatment and intentionally suffering so that Dr. Cameron will remember him and he'll have had SOME impact on the world. All in all I'd say this isn't the episode that best showcases House's abortion stance... actually, I really don't think there is one. But there's one episode that serves as an interesting foil to this one: S3E17, Fetal Position.

The patient in this episode is pregnant and feels this may be her only chance to have a baby. She's had two previous miscarriages and is in her 40s. However, she has maternal mirror syndrome— basically, the fetus is sick, and that makes the mother sick despite her technically not having any problems herself. This IS a case in which House insists the patient have an abortion to save her life. Because she absolutely refuses and is also incredibly resistant to any sort of procedure that might harm the baby, House feels that she's putting her own life in danger for no good reason. She turns down a premature c-section because the odds of survival simply aren't good enough.

Near the end of the episode, they do a procedure that requires them to cut into the uterus to access the fetus. During this, the fetus (I think the patient had been pregnant for about 7 months?) reaches out and grabs House's finger. He seems extremely intrigued and touched by this.

Throughout the whole episode, he pointedly would only refer to the baby as "the fetus" even when the patient herself described it as "the baby." He made it clear that he thought she was stupid for prioritizing a fetus over her own life, especially considering that if she dies, the fetus dies too— and at one point, that's dangerously close to happening, and she only has two days to live unless she terminates or they find some other way to save her (which they did). But after that moment during surgery, he finally refers to "the baby" while talking to the patient.

It's pretty easy to look at this episode and interpret it as House being converted to a pro-life stance, but I don't think that's the case, especially given that both before and after he still has no moral issue with abortion whatsoever. Instead, I interpret the episode as being more about House's stance on abortion becoming more complicated. He used to have a very generalized view that anyone with health issues caused by pregnancy should just abort or they're being stupid, but by the end of this episode, he recognizes that the mother herself really wants this baby, and that should be respected. I don't think he had some kind of realization that "fetuses are living babies!" Rather, I think he realized that this fetus is a living baby *to its mother*, who cares about it, and she's not crazy for prioritizing the it. I do also think he had a bit of a moment where fetuses were... humanized for him (for lack of better wording), but I don't think that changed his overall stance. I think it just put things in perspective.

It's a TV show, it's not right or wrong, but I do think the way the writers develop his abortion stance in that episode is interesting, even if it does slightly reek of pro-life shit. But again, in the end, I don't feel that's what came off, even if that's what the writers intended (I have no idea if they did or didn't). Dude is pro-choice and after that episode also somewhat respects the wishes of pregnant people. Which is indeed a rare House w.

I also find it interesting that episode comes only a few episodes after this one the screenshots are from... weird abortion episode double whammy. Maybe they wanted to try to play to both sides of the argument? Don't know!

Thanks for coming to my House MD abortion TED talk.

rare house W

[maknaesdancersrappers]

back with more thoughts ＾＾

“Ah, yes.” Yuta glances at you, “My friend’s baby sister is named Mina. That would explain why I’m a little fond of the receptionist at Jaehyun’s office. Being the youngest, I’ve always wondered about and wanted a younger sibling — or at least a child of my own, but I think it’s too early for that.”

yuta said that to kyungwon and y/n while they were out for lunch. i feel like his motive is not only that he’s crazy but also that he wants to create his own family in a sick and twisted way. Mina’s role is his little sister, if he knows about yuta jr then obviously that’s his son but idk why he kidnapped y/n? did he grow some sick obsession too? or does he think she’s the answer to his mommy and daddy issues? also what about the other girls? what was the point? were they not playing their roles right so he went after the real thing? 1/2

but knowing that yuta jr exists scares me😭 also makes me suspect kun bc wouldn’t that mean he delivered the baby? he said yuta’s baby momma was one of his first patients so he would know about the birth but why didn’t he mention that? unless he’s helping the mom keep the baby a secret. but again why even mention it to begin?

unless he only did a few scans and sent her on her way. idk kun is still sus to me 😭😭

ALSOOOOOO i went on your youtube to watch the trailer only to see you made another??????? y/n is really going through it ohmydays😭 yuta in the trailer had NO mercy and bc of that i doubt jae is going to let him live. also kun was like no where to be seen?????? idk but that’s suspicious to meeee. idk why i’m so suspicious of him but something just seems off, i hope i’m wrong though 😭

the last clip though did worry me. both guys were on the floor and wounded which makes me think jae will get severely hurt but i don’t think he’s gonna die. but alas that’s wishful thinking 2/2

im not gonna say anything else just because i might end up spilling too much but ill post it for others to read and think about 🙂‍↕️

if you went through the trailers, you should look at the playlist because a lot of it inspired scenes and represent a lot of what the characters are feeling.

[aswesawitblog]

Too Fat to Travel: How We Lost 170 Pounds of Weight

Dang, I griped to myself, the airlines sure have shrunk the plane seats. I guess that’s so they can squeeze more people into every plane. I can’t even cross my legs sitting here. Sheesh.

Travel is only fun if you’re healthy. When you’re fat (or overweight, if you prefer to be PC), climbing stairs takes more effort, walking uses more energy, and you avoid mirrors and photo ops. And you sure don’t want to be squeezed into a child-size seat at 30,000 feet for hours on end. Ugh.

But that’s not the worst of it: Dan developed DVT on our trans-Pacific flight to Bali. Deep vein thrombosis is a life-threatening condition. The blood clot in his leg lasted for weeks, I was freaking out, and he didn’t feel like going anywhere. Way to ruin an adventure, right?

Table of Contents  show 

Denial is not just a river in Egypt

It’s not as though we didn’t know we were overweight. That much was obvious, duh. I could pretend that the airplanes and clothing companies had resized, but I knew it was me.

So how fat were we?

Dan was carrying 120 extra pounds around. My size 16 clothes were getting tight and I was at least 50 pounds heavier than I had been in college.

Over the years we had tried “eating right,” Weight Watchers, Atkins, Nutrisystem and more. We had moderate success and made many lifestyle changes, but nothing lasted. We were still too big.

How it all started

It all began in Panama when I found a doctor who was willing to work with me to solve my weight issue. Fluent in English, he had trained and worked in the United States but had returned to his homeland. He had tired of battling insurance companies and he wanted to get to know his patients and dig into their lifestyles to find what might be causing their issues. Back in the US, he had to move patients along because he needed the revenue to cover his overhead.

Anyway, after the usual medical workup and blood tests, he gave me a series of options to try. One by one I tried them. Long story short: nothing was working and I was getting desperate. I finally decided to stop resisting the medical weight loss protocol he had been recommending.

Who would blame me?

I had read on the internet that the protocol was dangerous, and I believed it. (If you hear something enough times, does that make it true?)

My favorite excuses were:

I don’t like being hungry.

I like food and I’d be watching Dan enjoy whatever he pleased.

Cooking is Dan’s therapy and muse. He has claimed the kitchen as his domain.

But if I didn’t bite the bullet and do that I would continue to gain weight. I really had little choice.

Support is essential.

I’m not sure what made him decide to join me, but minutes into hearing about my program, Dan was using the word we instead of she.

Maybe it was the incredible results we could expect: as much as a pound of weight loss per day, or the fact that it was a long-established medical protocol, or that we only had to be on the most restrictive part of the diet for a month.

Or maybe it was because of that DVT or that he suspected his body might be pre-diabetic.

Whatever the reason, we both decided to go for it.

FAQs about the HCG Diet

How does HCG work?

Our doctor was extremely clear: This is not a diet, it’s a bona fide medical protocol that has been around for over 50 years. It was developed by a British military doctor, Dr. A.T.W. Simeons, he said, so treat it as such and take it seriously.

>> The HCG diet protocol does not allow cheating. At all. <<

At the heart of the program is a natural hormone that is produced during pregnancy called Human Chorionic Gonadotropin (HCG). HCG is what makes it possible for a woman to deliver a healthy baby … even if she has morning sickness the whole time and can barely eat a thing.

The theory is that HCG causes the brain to trigger a release of fat stores.

Although HCG is naturally produced only by pregnant women, it has the same effect on everyone, both men and women. When administered in very minute doses and coupled with a very low calorie diet, people routinely lose between 0.5 to 1 pound per day, often more. His patients who have used it swear that it is the only program where they have been able to keep the weight off afterward.

But is the HCG diet safe?

I am embarrassed to admit that I could have been thin years ago—if I’d done my own research. Instead I blindly believed what I had read—that this is a dangerous way to lose weight because no one can live on 500 calories a day.

That’s not strictly true, our doctor said. We’re not talking about a low calorie diet here, it’s a low intake program. HCG merely helps the body access its fat stores. You get all the extra calories you need from the fat you already have.

HCG works exactly the same as every other diet. You eat fewer than your required calories, and your body makes up the difference by feeding on your excess fat.

Where can you buy HCG?

Ultimately, we figured out that we could save a bunch of money buying it online. It's easiest to buy it as a kit so you have everything you need. That's what we did.

BUY THE HCG DIET KIT HERE

How do you take HCG?

You may have heard of homeopathic HCG drops, which are taken under the tongue three times a day. That’s how we started – and they work – but it’s hard to find them in the U.S. anymore. (Want to know why? Follow the money.)

Anyway, our doctor found he had better results with regular injections, so we switched to shots. Once daily is easier than remembering to take a medication 3 times a day. We had better results and it was far more convenient. Plus, surprisingly, those diabetic syringes are painless. (Who knew?)

What can you eat on the HCG diet?

In the strictest stage of Dr. Simeons’ protocol (what is known as Phase 2), food options are limited. You are permitted selected meats, 4 fruits and about a dozen vegetables, but no fats or sugars. One grissini or melba toast is allowed per meal – lunch and dinner only. You don’t eat breakfast, but you can have coffee or tea if you wish.

You might think it could be boring but no – Dan appreciated the challenge to get really creative with seasonings and prep methods. Anyway, we could tolerate our limited food choices because it was only temporary.

As for exercise, walking is permitted but not heavy exercise. That’s fine with me, ha-ha.

Fortunately, the HCG diet has recently been updated to incorporate advanced research in low-carb/ketosis dieting, caloric ratios and basic food chemistry. They call it HCG 2.0. We think it is a smarter way to lose – not to mention much easier to do. Coconut oil and stevia are permitted in limited amounts, more vegetables have been incorporated, and your daily calories can be incresed a bit.

You can even exercise, within reason. The fastest and most effective method is high-intensity interval training (HIIT).

How is the HCG diet different from a regular diet?

According to our doctor, there are two big differences between losing weight with HCG vs. other diets:

HCG curbs your appetite.

You lose weight faster, which keeps you motivated to stick with it.

When I heard that, I nearly cheered out loud. Woo-hoo! If I’m not hungry and see results, I can do this!

Why don’t more doctors recommend HCG?

Our doctor left his U.S. medical practice because he said it was too heavily controlled by insurance and Big Pharma. And then he gave me something to think about:

Weight loss is a multi-billion dollar industry. Heavy people rely on medications for weight-related illnesses, while diet pills and shakes are often made by pharmaceutical corporations.

Ask yourself: Who stands to lose if a weight loss program works too well? How far would you go to protect your source of income?

Hmmmm.

Our weight loss results

Boosted by the information he gave us, we were convinced it was worth a try. Once our doctor recorded all our baseline measurements (bone density, fat, muscle, etc.) with a machine, we left his office with the booklet outlining the protocol and the homeopathic medication we’d be taking for the next 40 days.

As required, we weighed ourselves daily. Over the next 40 days, I lost an average of 0.4 pounds/day and Dan lost twice that. (Unfair how men always lose so much faster!) But who cares? I was excited: 18.2 pounds lighter in just 40 days!

We did a few more rounds of the protocol while we were in Panama, but to be honest we got lazy and stopped paying attention to our intake. We had read that the protocol resets the body’s “set point” and thought we could eat anything we wanted to without gaining any weight.

Nope.

Here we go. Again.

Take it from us: It’s hard to lose weight when you’re traveling all over the globe. (You have to try the local foods, right?) By March 2014, I was back where I started and Dan was at least 30 pounds heavier as well. We agreed that it was time to get serious about keeping the weight off.

As I researched the protocol further, I discovered something important. Dr. Simeons was incorrect: It is actually possible to stay on the protocol for more than 40 days without developing a resistance to HCG. (I guess it stands to reason: Pregnant women have HCG in their bodies the whole time, don’t they?) We also learned how to correctly monitor our weights afterward so the fat doesn’t return in apocalyptic proportions.

When we returned to the U.S. after being overseas for three years (read about how we were kicked out of Ecuador here), we decided to stay put for a while and work to get down to our ideal weights.

We devoted ourselves to staying on the protocol for as long as it takes. And that’s how we’ve finally reached our weight loss goals.

The following year saw us do three rounds of HCG and we were thrilled with the results. Between us, we lost close to 170 pounds and haven’t regained it since. At 120 pounds lighter, Dan jokes that he almost lost his wife!

The hidden benefit no one talks about

Remember that I mentioned daily weigh-ins? The goal is to stay within two pounds of your last dose weight every day for the rest of your life. (There are ways to correct it, but that’s beyond this article.) As you enter the final, maintenance phase of the diet, you will reintroduce one food every day or two and monitor how your body responds on the scale the following day.

Through reintroducing foods one by one, I have learned which foods my body can handle and which ones it doesn’t like. When I eat wheat, for instance, my belly will quickly pooch from bloat and the numbers on the scale will rise by at least two pounds for a couple of days.

I had an aha moment when I realized that. Now, I can make informed, conscious choices: Do I really want that bread/pastry, or not? Sadly, it looks like I have similar reactions to rice and oats, so gluten-free may not be enough. But at least I know.

Side effects from our HCG diet

Whoever said that rapid weight loss can be dangerous needs to back that up wth facts. People have been doing this protocol for over 7 decades and no one has died from following the program correctly.

Seriously: it’s more dangerous to remain fat.

When we began this journey, we got winded and broke a sweat just walking a mile. Now, we easily cover 4 miles in an hour. I am far happier—and healthier—than I was in the 170’s. And I’m not done yet; I’ve set a new goal. As for Dan, friends tell him he looks like he did in high school … and he has no more DVT or sugar shakes to worry about.

That was expected, but other side effects surprised us:

Going without sugar has retrained our taste buds. Things that once tasted yummy now taste way too sweet.

Drinking water has become a habit.

We’ve learned that coffee without cream doesn’t taste too bad.

We became aware that boredom and stress are triggers. We no longer head straight to the refrigerator to deal with them.

We have more energy.

Now, how good does that feel?

Our friends have noticed.

Friends often ask about our weight loss. We can tell who is ready to shed some pounds by how they react to our answer. We get the gamut, everything from “I can’t live without bread for a day” to “I want to do that!”

What about you – do you need to have your bread or are you ready to do this? Please share your thoughts in the comments.

Resources for losing weight with HCG

If you're considering the HCG diet, here's what you need to do:

STEP 1: Start by reading the original medical paper that Dr. Simeons wrote: Pounds and Inches: A New Approach to Obesity.

STEP 2: Decide if you want to do it yourself or get help. Either way, you can buy real HCG only by prescription.

Find a doctor. Many physicians offer the HCG diet protocol, but if your doctor doesn't feel comfortable with it, you can easily find clinics and doctors who do. Just be aware that some of them charge outrageous prices for dedicated HCG programs.

Do it yourself. If you want to do the HCG diet on your own and have done your research, go for it! Like us, you can get support and buy everything you need online. 

STEP 3: Get support.

Facebook. Join an HCG Facebook group or two. Members share tips, recipes, ideas, victories and advice. Ask questions. (Of course you can ask us questions too, silly!)

Podcasts. we learned a lot from Colin F. Watson's HCG Body for Life podcast (we listened on iTunes). Maybe start with this recording: HCG Body for Life Phase 1 & 2. (We listened to all of them, mostly while driving.)

[fetusuae]

Maternal Fetal Medicine (High-Risk Pregnancy)

We think that everyone deserves the best care possible during their pregnancy. The majority of pregnancies are pretty regular, however, some have medical complications. These may have an impact on your health, your baby's health, or both. This pregnancy is classified as "high-risk."

Pregnancy problems can come in a variety of forms. That is why it is critical to seek the services of a highly skilled perinatologist – an obstetrician with further training and board certification in high-risk pregnancy care. This doctor is also known as a "maternal-fetal medicine specialist."

Weill Cornell Medicine's Division of Maternal Fetal Medicine has earned international acclaim as a pioneer in comprehensive, innovative care for high-risk pregnancies. Our staff delivers hundreds of high-risk pregnancies each year.

We are committed to assisting you in having the healthiest pregnancy and delivery for both you and your child as is humanly possible.

Why Choose Mothers and Fetuses Medical Center?

Compassionate, individualized care for you and your baby: During and after your pregnancy with a high-risk baby, our staff will offer you compassionate care. During your pregnancy, every aspect of care will be geared toward ensuring that both you and any baby or kids you're carrying remain in the best possible health.

Your treatment will be individualized to address the precise problem that you or your kid is suffering from. We will take care of you so that you can realize your full potential in terms of both your physical health and your mental and emotional well-being.

Our group gets together on a regular basis to discuss the various ways in which we can provide the best possible care for all of our patients, as well as to go over the outcomes and talk about the most recent research. As a result, the care that we provide and the therapies that we provide in the future will be more effective.

Multidisciplinary care from leading experts: If you decide to go through Weill Cornell Medicine, you will have access to a large network of general practitioners as well as specialists. Your specialist in maternal and fetal medicine may depend on the circumstances, consult with physicians specializing in cardiology, fetal care, neonatology (the treatment of newborn infants), and other areas of medicine.

Conditions We Treat

Our team cares for pregnant patients who have an underlying condition, such as

Heart disease

High blood pressure

Preeclampsia (high blood pressure after 20 weeks)

Diabetes or other endocrine disorders

Kidney or gastrointestinal disease

Infectious diseases (flu, strep throat, stomach virus, and others)

Patients who are otherwise healthy but have a higher risk for problems due to factors such as the following are also cared for by our staff.

Abnormal AFP (alpha-fetoprotein) blood test

Expected twins, triplets or more

Recurrent preterm (early) labor or birth

Premature rupture of membranes

Recurrent pregnancy loss

Suspected fetal growth restriction (baby not growing enough)

Baby’s congenital anomalies or genetic disease

Placenta disorder

Irregular shaped uterus

Fibroids (lumps growing in the uterus)

Prior history of abdominal (stomach or uterus) surgery

Care and Treatment by Leading Experts,

Fortunately, developments in technology and imaging have contributed to improvements in both the diagnosis of high-risk pregnancies and the care they receive. In conjunction with our Ultrasound Services Unit, which is known across the country for its excellence, our experts will employ the most cutting-edge equipment to examine the development and growth of your baby.

Early diagnosis of any condition is essential because it not only improves the likelihood of your and your baby's long-term health but also promotes your peace of mind throughout your pregnancy. This is because early detection improves the likelihood of your and your baby's long-term health.

Tests for Your Baby During Pregnancy

Our experts will monitor both your health and the health of your baby using the most cutting-edge technologies available. The tests will determine whether or not your child is getting an adequate supply of oxygen and whether or not all of their organs and anatomy are developing normally. These are some of the possible tests:

PRECONCEPTION CARE

PRENATAL SCREENING

Ultrasound

First-trimester nuchal

translucency scan

Second Trimester detailed scan

Fetal echocardiography

Genetic Screening

FETAL TESTING & TREATMENT

Invasive

Non-invasive

SPECIAL PREGNANCY CARE

HEALTH TOPICS

PEDIATRIC DENTISTRY

COSMETIC PROCEDURES

MATERNITY DENTAL CARE

Make an Appointment

The Sharjah Center for Mothers and Newborns, located at Kanad Maternal Fetal Medicine Center, has its origins in Al Ain, where it serves as the city's primary facility for maternal and fetal health care. Your doctor may recommend seeing a perinatologist if your pregnancy is deemed high-risk. A perinatologist is an obstetrician who has completed further training in the treatment of complicated pregnancies. They are also known as Maternal-Fetal Medicine specialists. This expert will collaborate with your primary care physician, midwives, and other medical staff to ensure the healthiest outcome for you and your unborn child.

The first hospital in the Emirate of Abu Dhabi, bringing international standards of Healthcare to the community of Al Ain.

Contact Us:

+97167411031

+97167411031

Mother and Fetuses Medical Center

458 Wasit Street, Al Azra,

Sharjah.

info@motherfetus.com

Meet our team

Throughout the duration of their pregnancies and beyond, the qualified medical professionals and specialists at our organization are committed to providing expectant women with the highest quality medical care possible. Our staff includes obstetricians, pediatricians, sonographers, nurses, and healthcare assistants who are trained to provide specialized treatment and care for pregnant women and young moms before and during the birthing process.

[scientia-rex]

This gets notes every time it drifts into leftist circles. But here’s the thing: I am a doctor. I have cared for children in hospitals. Vast, intricate supply chains that rely on functioning world governments with trade agreements are necessary to the provision of modern medical care. There is no way to work it so those kids can win if electricity, water, food, or medical supplies like sterile intravenous fluid bags or EKG stickers get interrupted. Forget even permanent disruption, a temporary disruption of the sterile tubing necessary for surgery would mean a lot of kids die of appendicitis. The generators we have as back-up are meant to last minutes, not weeks. And you can say “under my new system, the total violence done would ultimately be less than the violence done by the state,” but it’s easier to say that about a hypothetical kid than one lying on a gurney in front of you. When you’ve been responsible for a life—when you’ve lost a patient, when you’ve been through a Code Blue for a one-year-old—there is nothing you would not do in order to protect that life. I think all the time about what Devil’s bargains I would make for various situations; it’s one of the fucked up things I do. I can tell you that I would kill anyone who tried to cut power to my hospital, or I would die trying. There is no alternative.

The world is too interconnected to allow one part of it to go down. When Puerto Rico got slammed by hurricanes and the US did fuck all about it, we had a nationwide shortage of bagged IV fluids. I was working in hospitals through that. Things we normally do as part of routine medical care, like giving the puking kid with the migraine IV Zofran and Reglan, got a whole lot harder. I was working inpatient during COVID, when there were sudden shortages of pain and anxiety medications we relied on, like opioids and benzodiazepines. There was a nationwide shortage of lidocaine last year and we had to save it for biopsies of suspect cancers. Surgery requires not only a surgeon but an entire team of people and complex equipment to safely sterilize tools, most of which are now based around laparoscopic surgery that requires camera tools instead of the old-school open surgeries. You could not even say “but the surgeons can still operate” because no. They can’t. Not safely. Not with ether instead of succinate and fentanyl. I could deliver your baby after the apocalypse, but who’s staffing the blood banks when you have a post-partum hemorrhage and I don’t have three trained nurses with a kit of specialty meds to slow the bleeding? I still remember the time during the worst of COVID when I couldn’t fly a patient from our rural hospital to an urban hospital that could have done the operation he needed, because the hospitals were completely full. I had to buy time with heavy-duty IV antibiotics (the one and only time I’ve been allowed to use a -penem) while he lay there in agony for 12 hours until a bed came open and we could transfer him. If we couldn’t treat the pain and keep the infection from killing him long enough to operate, he would have died then and there, in front of us, while we stood there helplessly.

So how many kids are you OK with watching die from a ruptured appendix? That’s what comes in to the ED at two in the morning and within half an hour if you’re lucky has an ultrasound proving the diagnosis and a surgeon getting scrubbed in. If there isn’t ultrasound, ultrasound techs, pain medication, anesthesiologists, ventilation machine for when you’re under, light-up scopes with blades to allow for intubation bc then there’s direct visualization of the vocal cords, paralytic medications to keep you still, medications to keep you asleep, monitoring machines that read your blood pressure ans CO2 levels and pulse oximetry while you’re under, computer scheduling for OR time, post-op recovery nurses, gurneys, autoclaves, specialized small metal tools for the surgery—if there are interruptions in training or production of any of these and a whole lot more, anyone could die of a surgical problem, but it hurts worse when it’s a kid. Watch breast cancer come back into vogue, as we lose mammograms. You ever treated a woman who’s ignored breast cancer so long it’s now a fungating mass? Go Google what that looks like. Two cases have walked into my office and they are both dead now. One was schizophrenic. Without modern global supply chains, we don’t have lorazepam or morphine for humane death, let alone psych meds. How many people would deteriorate? Get specific. Which friends would you be willing to watch die? Which of their kids are expendable?

What kind of violent revolution are you planning where you are able to look a patient in the eye and tell them, “Your death is necessary to my vision,” and not understand that you are the villain?

You get to decide whether you want to end your own life for this glorious future. You do not get to decide to end my life or my patients’ lives or anyone else’s. You are not God and you do not get to make plans as if you are, as if you have the One Correct Vision and the rest of us just need to fall in line and follow the prophet. Fuck you. You think the Black kid whose treatment team I was on while he writhed in pain on a hospital bed because he had a kidney transplant and it was rejecting wouldn’t tell you to go fuck yourself about your violent revolution? Our society is no longer able to tolerate large-scale disruptions. We have built too much and we would lose too much. We are too big to fail, and although it’s easy to see that as a bad thing, what I keep seeing, over and over, is that transplant team. How the nephrologist and the resident and the nurses and techs and pharmacists and therapists were working together to keep that kid alive. The scientists who did the research, relying on impossibly complex systems that have taken hundreds of years to build. Collaboration is how we survive.

We cannot allow the vulnerable to die and call that progress. We cannot turn the lights out on any hospitals, because the people in the ICU on ventilators will stop breathing and die within minutes. Would you want that to happen if it’s your mother in that ICU? Would you tell your mother the answer to that? What if it was your child? What about your favorite sibling? How many of other people’s families are you willing to sacrifice for the sake of something that stands a virtually 100% chance of going up in flames immediately, when we look at prior attempts at creating a new government out of war and chaos? The massive impacts of even “small” shortages on patients is not theoretical and has killed patients since I’ve been an attending, starting three years ago.

You do not own the right to anyone else’s life.

And if you think you want a violent revolution, see how you do with your next toothache without pain meds, lidocaine, dental expertise, and composite that lets you keep the tooth and keep chewing. How long would you have to suffer to crack?

I think a lot about how, if the glorious violent revolution happens, every kid with significant medical needs in a hospital where power gets cut will die.

You can decide you're willing to sacrifice your own life, but you don't get to tell everybody else on the planet that they're acceptable collateral damage.

[sgtuniversitygurgaon]

Watch How a COVID Positive Suspected Patient Delivers a Baby

This video aims to demonstrate • Provision of quality intrapartum services to a COVID-19 suspect / confirmed case in labor • Prevention of further transmission of the disease. The following points were highlighted 1. Delivery in an isolation ward - As many of the infected pregnant patients may be asymptomatic all patients who attend the labor room are to be tested and managed accordingly. If the test report is awaited then the patient is to be managed as Covid-19 positive patient. They have to be segregated from healthy women in labor. Hence the delivery room should be away from the main complex. The Covid-19 infected pregnant woman can be allowed to deliver normally. Interventions are done if there is an obstetric indication or there is a deterioration of the general condition of the laboring woman. 2. Use of Level 3 PPE kit - During labor, the laboring patient should be attended by the Health Workers wearing Level 3 PPE kit. 3. Use of Masks - The laboring patient should have a mask on. This will prevent the spread of the infection from the woman to the attendants and reduce fomites. 4. High-risk condition - Maternal and fetal wellbeing is to be monitored electronically throughout labor. If at any time the woman experiences shortness of breath, difficulty in breathing, or deterioration of the patient’s general condition, she may need to be transferred to ICU. 5. Care of the laboring woman - The woman needs constant reassurance. She needs to be encouraged through labor. • Fetal Monitoring is done using CTG • Maternal vitals are monitored constantly o Pulse oximeter -Oxygen saturation is maintained above 94% o BP monitoring • Labor is augmented by ARM • Mode of delivery is not be altered by the coexisting disease. • There is minimal skin to skin contact. 6. Anaesthesia in Pregnant Women with COVID-19 infection - If a caesarean is to be done then regional anaesthesia is to be used and aerosol generation to be minimized. 7. Newborn corner - The newborn corner should be located 2 meters away from the delivery table or in a separate room where possible.

Visit us: https://sgtuniversity.ac.in/ Like my Page on: http://bit.ly/2myS5yP Follow us on: http://bit.ly/2l226nA Follow us on: http://bit.ly/2lBVhcH Follow us on: http://bit.ly/2mBIY06

[killed-by-choice]

“Marina Roe” (France, ~1993)

Death in sickle cell patients after abortion has been documented for decades, but in one especially tragic case, a single abortion that was supposedly “therapeutic” instead ended four lives.

“Marina” was a sickle cell patient who was pregnant in the second trimester with triplets. The report of her death does not specify the exact age of her babies, but countless premature babies delivered in the second trimester have survived when given medical attention. Even if they had been too young to survive, guaranteeing their deaths in utero would have offered no medical benefit— especially since a second-trimester abortion would take much longer than delivery.

The abortion was carried out using prostaglandin E2 instillation. A few hours later, Marina was already showing signs that something was going very wrong. She was suffering from bone and joint pain, and her hemoglobin was only 8 gm/dL. (For reference, 12 gm/dL is considered severely low in most women.) She was given 4 units of blood, but developed trouble breathing and deteriorated so badly over the next four days that she was admitted to the ICU.

By the time she was admitted to the ICU, Marina had trouble breathing and was suffering from confusion. Her chest x-ray showed pulmonary edema. Despite intensive treatment, she became even worse. Doctors put her on a ventilator and performed a heart catheterization. Based on her test results, they suspected an embolism. An exchange blood transfusion of 30 mL was initiated. Despite all attempts, Marina suffered respiratory failure and died the next day of acute right heart failure.

Marina’s postmortem exam found “marked pulmonary vascular congestion with focal alveolar hemorrhage and edema.” In addition, the diagnosis of embolism was confirmed by “massive amounts of fat in lung capillaries typical of fat embolism.” The cause of death was diagnosed as “massive fat embolism resulting from bone marrow necrosis.”

After Marina’s death, her case was analyzed. Several points were noted when the actions taken contributed to her death, including notes on how some should have been handled differently.

First, Marina was more predisposed to bone marrow fat emboli to begin with because of her sickle cell disease. Abortion is very well-documented as a cause for pulmonary emboli even in healthy people, so this should have been carefully considered.

Second, it was noted that “Massive transfusion without blood exchange… could have favored bone marrow necrosis and fat emboli by increasing blood viscosity.” Doctors reviewing her case also referenced that PGE2 (the chemical used in Marina’s abortion) also acts as a vasodilator, increasing blood flow on top of the already increased viscosity.

Marina was also given an insufficient exchange transfusion in her last days of life. She was given 30 mL of blood when the medical journal reviewing her case stated that life-threatening situations require at least double that amount. It was also theorized that “the severity of pulmonary involvement in our patient when exchange blood transfusion was performed may also have contributed to the failure of the treatment.” Marina’s treatment was, quite literally, too little too late.

Sherika Mayo, Betty Gail Hines, Margaret Davis, Barbara Riley, “Vera Roe” and “Jenny Roe” are a few other sickle cell patients killed by deadly side effects of their legal abortions, which were all too frequently recommended to them under the suggestion that it would be healthier for them. Women with sickle cell disease (and their children) deserve better.

https://doi.org/10.1002/ajh.2830430431