#blood pressure monitors are torture devices

[ferindencadash]

Pretty sure the "sleep" I just had is banned under the Geneva convention.

[johnnysnostril]

nct 127 as royals [18+]

♔ kingdoms + empires ♖

this has got to be one of my favorite scenarios so far. ive put together a little something for the people who are obsessed with the royal + medieval times. let me know which kingdom or empire you’re in! enjoy, xoxo 

empire of

❅ ELPIDA ❅

colors: yellow + gold

moto: “be delicate like a flower, hopeful like an angel.”

your position: the page ☾❀|❀☽

cares for the royal clothing

assist with dressing the royals

pick out ball gowns and attire for royal dances/weddings

emperor taeyong’s trustee: <<doyoung>>

shields you from witnessing illegal matters

protects you from unexpected dangers

accompanies you to royal fittings

his secret: you are his mistress. he comes to you whenever he’s feeling vulnerable and weak. you’ve been sleeping with the emperor for a few months now and you’re starting to fall in love with him. you want to admit your feelings to him but you know that he’ll never leave the empress just for a page.

sexual desire: <<blindfolding/handcuffing>>

look at you- tied up and blinded. now, i can explore your body without interruptions.

empire of

✤ IRIS ✤

colors: emerald green + white

moto: “listen to the gods- they will never lead you wrong.”

your position: the physician ☤

in charge of the royals health

partake in surgical procedures

assist in healing the wounded knights

emperor taeil’s trustee: <<taeyong>>

supplies you with out of country medicine

shows you how to make potions

provides you with illegal knives to perform difficult surgeries

his secret: emperor taeil is planning on poisoning the empress. with your help, along with his trustee- he is ending his arranged marriage, that he never wanted to be apart of. with her gullible attitude, the empress believes you are no harm. little does she know, that you are the one who will witness her last breath.

sexual desire: <<submission>>

tell daddy how much you love it when he makes you feel helpless.

empire of

ᕯ IPHIOS ᕯ

colors: cream + brown

moto: “show no mercy, show no fear.”

your position: the squire ⚘

apprentice to the knights

witnesses training for battles

eyes and ears of the empire

emperor johnny’s trustee: <<jaehyun>>

teaches you secret death pressure points

reveals all hidden secrets of the knights

shows you secret passage ways through the castle

his secret: he’s cheating on the empress with a queen from another kingdom. somehow, you ended up being his second mistress- landing the position of the squire, by promising to protect his secret from the knights- who are ordered to kill the queen mistress per the empress. although the empress has knowledge of emperor johnny cheating on her, she had no idea about you. and you and emperor johnny will keep it that way.

sexual desire: <<master/slave>>

you follow directions so well, don’t you? master will have his way with you and you’ll behave- like a good little slave, won’t you?

kingdom of

❈ THPHIC ❈

colors: peach + silver

moto: “all that is gold, shall be silver.”

your position: the watchman ✇

watches over the castle

report suspicious behavior

create safety tactics

king yuta’s trustee: <<jungwoo>>

supplies you with foreign bombs

helps you plan stakeouts

provides you with secret information about other kingdoms

his secret: his mother was a servant to his royal father. his blood is not complete royalty. you and jungwoo are the only ones who know his secret- the two of you protect it with your lives. every now and then, you and king yuta will sleep together- as a thank you for keeping his secret.

sexual desire: <<public sex>>

and while everyone is watching, you’d be screaming my name- begging me for more.

kingdom of

✵CHARMOLIPIL ✵

colors: black + burgundy

moto: “never let them see your weak side- show them what they will fear.”

your position: the messenger ∺

relays messages from the king to other kingdoms

witness court trials

bring threatening news to the knights attention

king doyoung’s trustee: <<taeil>>

provides you with weapons that you aren’t licensed to have

helps you falsify information to threaten other kingdoms

supplies you with poison potions

his secret: you witnessed him kill his father so he could take over the kingdom. king doyoung has demanded you be the messenger, running to other kingdoms to let them know that the king is finally dead. he uses you as his secret weapon- having secret late night meeting with you, informing you of your weekly work. as these meeting progress through the months, you start to slowly fall in love with him- letting him know that you’ll do anything to keep his secret and to cover him. the king is slowly catching feelings for you but won’t show his true feelings just yet.

sexual desire: <<threesomes>>

the both of you look so wonderful on your knees. now, please me.

empire of

✾ HALARA ✾

colors: royal blue + plum

moto: “wait for the perfect time, then attack.”

your position: the treasurer ∞

in charge of tax collecting

tracking debit with other empires

monitors the state of the empire

emperor jaehyun’s trustee: <<mark>>

helps you hide stolen money

forges numbers for the books

providing transportation and housing for your escape

his secret: you and emperor jaehyun have been stealing money from the empire. the two of you have convinced the empress that there is a traitor among the castle. emperor jaehyun has planned the escape for the both of you- leaving the empire behind for the empress, as he has fallen deeply in love with you. 

sexual desire: <<erotic spanking/servant play>>

ah- you’ve disobeyed me again, servant. bend over, you know what time it is.

kingdom of

❂ CHRYSEOS ❂

colors: red + violet

moto: “stay gold, always.”

your position: the marshal 〶

ensures that the kingdoms laws are enforced

responsible for securing the kingdoms boarders

organizes patrol and responds to threats

king jungwoo’s trustee: <<haechan>>

protects your illegal work regarding protection of the king

assists you with hiring hitmen for the ones who threaten the king

provides you with handguns/weapons for the knights

his secret: you and king jungwoo have been legally married in another country, for five years. the queen has no idea that she is technically a mistress. you plan to hire a hitman to take out the queen, robbing her of her jewls and kidnap the king- to live your life in your home country; where no one knows of your work with the king. 

sexual desire: <<roleplay>>

you look exquisite in royal clothing, my dear. what would be even more delicious, is you bent over the queens royal chair.

empire of

✥ MERAKI ✥

colors: gold + black

moto: “take everything, forgive no one and leave no trace.”

your position: the spymaster ⌖

observes the empires criminal elements

spies on other kingdoms+empires

uses collected information to protect the king

emperor mark’s trustee: <<yuta>>

supplies you with illegal torture devices

provides you with secret maps to other kingdoms+empires to break into their castles

helps you protect the king

his secret: you are his long lost love. as he was promised to another female at birth, he fell in love with you as a young man. you were brought into the castle by his father who was the emperor, as an orphan child of a passing village. before the emperor’s passing, you promised to watch after the castle and his reigning son. every now and then, you and emperor mark find yourselves in deep love with each other, but you can’t bring yourself to destroy the lee empire with your own desire.

sexual desire: <<face sitting>>

you’d look even more beautiful, straddling my face. i bet that you wouldn’t be able to ride my tongue without making a sound. 

kingdom of

۞ AGAPI ۞

colors: baby blue + gray

moto: “everything in the world is about sex, except sex. sex is about power.”

your role in the castle: the steward ❦

in charge of daily management and supplies needs for the castle and the king

responsible for financial and legal matters concerning the castles estates

represents the king in court, while he is away

king haechan’s trustee: <<johnny>>

covers up your mistakes

protects you from unwanted information being released

prints money illegally and uses it to help you pay for supplies

his secret: king haechan is planning to have the queen assassinated so you can fill her role once she is gone. johnny is the only person who knows that you and the king are sleeping together. although king haechan doesn’t know just yet, you are pregnant with his son-

sexual desire: <<domination and rough sex>>

no one will be able to hear you cry out in this dungeon, my love. but, i do think you need something to occupy that throat of yours.

[knightprincess]

Cadet Training (The Bad Batch)

Words: 3166

Warning: None but a lot of hurt/comfort (I think)

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Cadet training for the clones was never easy. Although it was just about bearable for the regular clones. It was constant torment for Clone Force 99. They never got a day off from training like others did. From the moment they had been able to begin training, it had been non stop, a constant pressure to succeed, to obey the orders given or face punishment. 

TECH Tech's training consisted of testing his knowledge. He'd be hooked up to an array of machines, some to monitor his brain waves, other his heart rate and blood pressure. Another that would give him a nasty shock. Once he was hooked up the testing began, he was normally given questions on the screens before him, he had a certain amount of time to answer them. If he succeeded, another question would appear. If he was to fail, he would receive a electric shock. If he ever asked for it to stop, the instructor would only up the power. Being sure to stop before he lost consciousness. As soon as the shocks stopped he was told to get back to his feet and continue. Maker help him should he ask for a bathroom break or any break in general. On the days he wasn't facing the quizzes, then he was normally dragged to the medical bay, to undergo horrendous scans. The worst part always being he could feel everything they did. The pain being unbearable, the few times he was able to get strangled words out, he was always calling for his brothers, begging them to make it stop and rescue him from the constant pain. He'd be poked and prodded with needles and other things as if he was a pin cushion. Normally thirsty and hungry as he would be denied food and drink for hours before these scans and tests. If he was to say he was hungry or needed a drink, he would be harshly told to be silent and wait. 

When it was over it was a struggle to even walk, most of the time he used the walls to prop himself up on his way to where ever wanted to go. His words would be slurred, the best he could do with the splitting headache to be blurring his vision. He'd struggle to hold eating utensils when in the mess hall, only just being able to grip the cup to drink something. After a while he'd give up completely and settle for returning to the barracks, another night of going hungry. Crosshair would never allow it and always followed behind his younger brother, helping Tech along to ensure he got there safely. Upon making sure Tech got to his bunk, he retrieve a few ration bars, ensuring Tech didn't go hungry. WRECKER Wrecker's training wasn't as bad as his brothers to look at. He'd be constantly pushed to his limit with blasters, bombs and other explosives. Often being sent to the training rooms to test his skills against droids. If he was ever hit by one, the course would be reset until he got it right. Often times had he missed meal times because of this. He'd be forced to repeat the disarming over and over again, until he got it right first time. Yet he hated destroying things that had meaning to him. Like one time an instructor noticed his original tooka doll and picture of his brothers. Both had been stuffed into a metal box with little care, a detonator thrown in with them. 

That day he'd been tasked with disarming an bomb within a time limit. If he succeeded, he'd get the things taken from him back. If he failed then the blast would destroy the small metal box and the things stuffed so carelessly inside. That day had broke Wrecker, losing the photo was like losing his brothers, he cried himself to sleep that night, believing he had failed them. Although a new Tooka doll had appeared on his bunk, a small tag in messy writing saying its name was Lula. 

Wreckers worst training session by far was the one where he was training with blasters. He'd only spoken of his exhaustion and strains before then. But that day his trainer had dragged Hunter, Tech and Crosshair to the firing range. He been informed their lives were on the line this time, they would be on the firing range, between each target. If he missed any target his brothers would ended up being hit. Wrecker had protested as did his brothers, their lives were in his hands, he knew his brothers trusted him, but he didn't want that responsibility just yet. He didn't want to hurt them in any way. 

He knew it would be difficult, with the trainer tying each of his brothers to a make shift stake between each target, blind folding them so they couldn't see what was happening. To Wrecker it was like they were set to be executed by firing squad, like they were the criminals and he was the executor, like he was the hand that would bring swift death. He tried so hard to protest against it, refusing, even when his train held a gun to his head, even when he was smacked in the face with the butt of the gun he still refused. 

He eventually fired upon hearing the encouraging words of his brothers. Hearing they trusted him and believed him even when he didn't believe in himself. Although he had hit every target, he'd come dangerously close to each of them. A bolt had hit just to the right of Crosshair, mere inches from his shoulder, another had been close to hitting Hunter, the bolt hitting the wall above him, where as Tech's had missed by inches, instead hitting the floor in front of him. A comment or two had escaped the train's lips, yet nothing of support but instead patronizing him further, stamping out the confidence he had gained. Something to do with a gag for his brothers next time. 

Tech, Crosshair and Hunter had all bared witness to Wrecker's beating that day. Tied helpless to the make shift stakes as he was beaten for his words in response to the sadistic trainer, beaten for standing up for himself and them. Despite their efforts to free themselves, they had been force to listen as Wrecker shouted for it to stop and screamed in agonizing pain when the side of his face was held to one of the metal containers, mere seconds before it exploded. The Trainer didn't seem to care, instead pulling the crying Wrecker to his feet afterwards, ignoring the pleas to be left alone. Nala Se had been the rescuer that day, investigating upon hearing Wrecker scream. She took him with her, ordering Tech, Crosshair and Hunter to be freed and sent back to their barracks. 

Despite her best efforts Nala Se couldn't save Wrecker from permanent scaring. She kept him in her lab for days, doing her best to take away his pain as she removed shrapnel and his left eye. Replacing the eye with a cybernetic one. Her examinations showing he'd be partially death in the left ear.  Yet she had also showed kindness, even more so when she had taken the punishment of the Bounty Hunter into her own hands, ensuring he wouldn't be heartless to one of her special five again.

CROSSHAIR Crosshair's training normally consisted of being isolated for days on end. His accuracy was beyond that of any other, so his path of a sniper had been chosen for him. Forced on him even. At first it would be overnight stays in the training facilities, perched in a snipers nest, flat on his stomach, he'd be allowed breaks to move around and join the others in the mess hall. But as time went by, the conditions got worse. He'd be denied simple breaks to stretch his limbs, bathroom trips or even sleep. Food and water became a method to reward him for his good work in training. 

After a while the trips to the training facility wasn't enough. His instructor insisting he needed something more real. So would take him out to a landing pad in the constant rain, there he'd be tasked with eliminating all distractions and fire on his fellow cadets, each time they'd be unaware. If Crosshair was to refuse then he'd be beaten, stamped on and other things, at times his own instructor had used a electric torture device to deliver a shock, all in an attempt to get him to comply. If he still refused a loaded gun would be held to the side of his head, or he'd be put in some sort of strangle hold. Crosshair had bones broken one more than one occasion. Normally ribs, wrist, ankle and fingers. 

Many a times Crosshair had been taken outside in the pouring rain, without cover, food or water, he'd be left their for days, only being sent a location of his target, normally another cadet but occasionally a fully trained trooper would would fire back. He was tasked to stun them all. To make it easier, his instructor told him to make up stories about them, to make himself think they deserved it, he was told to ignore his guilt over firing at them and ignore they were clones just like him. Instead he was told to think of it like a game, with everyone he stunned he'd be earning the right of bathroom use, of food and water, of being able to return to his barracks and see his brothers again. 

But it only got worse. Eventually stunning his fellow cadets and fully trained troopers wasn't enough anymore. His instructor wanted him to use live rounds, to potentially kill them. He was branded as teaching them a lesson, of setting an example to other cadets who misbehaved. Every time Crosshair refused he was met with a brutal beating, already weak from days without food and lying flat on his stomach. Already weak from his countless other beating from answering back with snarky comments. He'd been denied medical attention until he completed his training session. 

When he was sent to the med bay, he found no comfort. It was made perfectly clear to him by the elegant Kaminoans he wasn't welcome there, they tolerated him a best, doing the bare minimum to ease his pain and ensuring his injuries and wounds would heal. Pain killers weren't a luxury extended to him, instead he felt the pain, eventually growing to accept it as a companion, refusing to show it to another unless he couldn't bare it any longer. 

By far his worst training session was when he was up on the landing platform, the rain pelting down on him, hardly bothered him anymore. He was told via a comm link four targets were heading into his directory, he was to shoot them. At first Crosshair was certain he wouldn't have a problem with it, he grown used to using cadets and troopers as a target practice. Yet this time was different, the targets in question was a fully grown trooper and three cadets. Tech, Hunter and Wrecker along with ninety-nine. Almost instantly Crosshair yelled he couldn't, no wouldn't fire on them. They were his brothers and one of the few who actually showed care to him. Ninety-Nine had named each of them, treated them like he did with all the other cadets, with care and loved. Always helping them with something. 

His instructor had come on to his landing pad after that, demanding he shoot all four to kill. Stamping on Crosshair's back when he refused, the beating when on for quite some time. Only stopping when Crosshair had managed to grab his rifle and point it had the vicious man tasked with training him. Even then no emotion escaped his blush pink features. Instead his instructor called him names, often accompanied by the words useless and defect. Through it all Crosshair would yell even scream he didn't want to kill his brothers, loud enough they could hear him and pin point his location, loud enough they would know what they're being used for this time. 

The nightmares were always the worst part of his torture. They were the mental scars of his training. When he was actually allowed to sleep, he'd been tormented by the nightmares, a scenario being played out where he'd have to hunt his brothers, torture them for information and eventually kill them in a public way. Every time he'd wake up screaming he didn't want to kill them. Each time Wrecker would offer him Lula, as comfort. Tech would reassure him it was just a dream and they were all there, alive and well. Where as Hunter would stay by his side until he fell back to sleep. The cycle would repeat itself several times over, each time the stun setting on the gun becoming more appealing, until Crosshair would eventually give up on the idea of sleep. Instead he would be content watching over his brothers and reading something on Tech's data-pad, all while playing with Hunter's knife and protecting Lula for Wrecker. 

HUNTER Hunter's training mainly centered around his senses and tracking. Much like Crosshair it was far more physical than most. Although he'd also find himself locked in a lab for what was supposed to be testing but felt more like his own personal brand of torture. His favorite training was when he got to spend time with his brothers. Normally when they were in training facilities together, going through different scenarios. They worked well as a team and was sure to let his tired brothers know it. 

His training as an individual however he hated, with a vengeance. Often times was Crosshair the one he had to track, with the order to subdue my any means necessary. Every time his sharp eyed brother would be under the impression the person coming would be trying to kill him, as if he'd been brain washed. Each time he would be in for a fight even when Crosshair had been starved for days. He'd always say I'm sorry before stunning him, he'd hold his brother close, maker knows what would happen to him for being caught. 

The days in the lab he hated most. Mostly due to be stuck in some kind of tub, helpless to do anything as Tech yelled for help and for someone to save him. In his tub he'd be subjected to a manor of different things, noises only he could hear, with a pitch high enough to frazzle his hearing for days. Smells powerful enough to burn his air ways and leave a metal tinged after taste in his mouth. multi-color lights so bright, he would be blinded and couldn't see the Kaminoan outside the tube. He's be left with lights flashing behind his eyes long after the bright lights had been turned off. 

When not in the tube, he would be strapped to a table like Tech, poked and prodded, different tests administered. He'd always know when they were due, being forbidden from drinking or eating anything for hours before hand. His struggles only resulted in pain, multiple times he'd been struck with something across his midsection. The blow hard enough he could feel his ribs crunch beneath the object, and the air leave his lungs from the pure shock of it. He'd always think of his brothers in those times. Think about needing to be strong for them, so he could help them when they all returned to the barracks.

Although even those thoughts had been used against him. Manipulated to serve a purpose. Countless times had the Kaminoans in the lab put goggles on him while strapped to the lab table. They'd play videos of his brother's training, specifically when they would be punished for failing, answering back to the instructors or just doing something considered out of line. Each time it was when he wasn't there to save them or when he was unable to get to them. The clips of Tech when he was being electrocuted in his tests or yelling out from pain during his lab stints. Wrecker's being his scarring injury or when he'd been called every name under the sun, being hit with objects and humiliated by his awful instructor. Where as Crosshair's was pretty much every training session, when he was starved for days, beaten and berated, shocked and had guns held to his head or a knife to his throat. Where the people he loved most were used against him. 

One such occasion where the videos were shown to him. Hunter had yelled out for it to stop, as always being ignored, so he had constantly belted the side of his head off the equipment so close to him, shattering the goggles. The Kaminoans had removed the remnants afterwards scolding him, as the injuries sustained were patched up. Although it would leave a scar as a reminder, a scar he'd eventually hide beneath his trademark bandanna. Yet he always felt as he deserved the scar as it reminded him of the times he failed to protect his brothers. 

Returning to the barracks after those tube tests was never easy. The lights in the halls were always bright enough to blind him, to the point he would hold his hands out and feel his way around to find his way back. Countless times had the bleach smell to radiate through the Military facilities burn his air ways, making it hard for him to breath. Tech would always help by turning the lights down to the lowest setting possible, although that was to help Crosshair too. He'd also find a sweet smelling fragrance of some kind, normally vanilla and cover the bleach smell in their room with it. Although their private barracks always had the smell of home. A cross between engine oil and gun powder. 

Yet still he felt the need to protect his brothers. Guiding Tech to his bunk and putting the data-pad at a safe distance on the table in the center of the room. He'd make sure Wrecker had a picture of them together near him and his favorite blanket and Lola if Crosshair didn't have it. As for Crosshair, he'd always be there when he woke up screaming from nightmares, just as he knew when Crosshair had gotten his knife as something to hold on to. Yet he didn't say anything as it gave both comfort. Getting to sleep on the other hand was a far more difficult task. Often times he'd wait until his brothers were asleep, or at least Tech and Wrecker. More often than not he'd end up crying himself to sleep, knowing the only one to hear would be Crosshair, who often helped by placing a hand on his shoulder while pulling his blankets up to keep him warm. Crosshair being their somehow eased the pain and sent him into a somewhat peaceful sleep. 

[hopefulfestivaltastemaker]

October 11, 2020

This is the resumption of what I hope will again become my weekly blog. There is only one topic this week: recovery from a stroke. Be warned that I am not censoring detail and some aspects of the following may be unpleasant to read about.

Recovery from a Stroke

On the night of September 13, I suffered a stroke, which is the reason I have been out of commission the past month. More specifically--and please forgive the medical jargon--I suffered from dual problems that night: an arteriovenous malformation and a cerebral hemorrhage. Someone in my apartment caught me spazzing out on the third floor and called an ambulance, after which I was rushed to Kaiser hospital in Hillsboro for tests and then Clackamas for an operation. The doctors were able to fix both problems, and they expect I will make a mostly full recovery by the end of the year. I don’t remember anything from the operation itself--presumably I was on a lot of drugs that knocked me out--but evidently they went in through the groin to the brain to patch things up. All this follows another incident on September 11 which was not caught. I don’t know how the first incident contributed to the severity of the second.

Although I was patched up all right and am expected to make a full recovery, I will note here that I am very lucky to be alive. The doctors told me later that had this incident occurred 10 years ago, and perhaps even 5 years ago, they wouldn’t have had the technology to fix me and I would have ended up dead or a vegetable.

In my recovery, I went through four phases so far. The first was at the ICU in Clackamas, which I don’t remember very well. The second was also at Clackamas, a ground-level facility which is for people who are farther along in recovery. The third was at RIO, a facility in downtown Portland to help with rehab. The fourth is here, at my Mom’s place, where I will continue to get better at independent living. It will probably be the end of the year that I make a full recovery where I can work a full schedule and do everything that I had done before, though some things like riding a bicycle might take even longer.

Since my skull is not fully healed, I am vulnerable to a fall. The nurses have been very cautious about that, and I gave them a scare in my second facility. What I don’t remember is going to the bathroom and being very light-headed and woozy. What I do remember is being on the floor and having about six nurses hovering over me and making sure I was OK. I was. The episode was not really a fall but a close call which caused a scare. They still discharged me to RIO the next day.

One thing about being in the hospital is that you have to check your modesty at the door. I had nurses help me dress and shower in the early phases, tasks that I couldn’t do on my own. Many of them--probably not all I remember because I have forgotten so much--saw me without clothes on, including the groin injury left over from the surgery (it appears to be gone now). I was also next to a window at RIO. It was quite nice in general, giving me a good view of the Fremont Bridge and other attractions in Portland, but I don’t know if anyone looked in the window and saw anything. Across the skybridge were the offices for the RIO doctors.

Naturally, the bed was uncomfortable and the food was not very good. The food seems exciting at first, as there is a big menu with many things to choose, but two weeks at RIO were more than enough to crave my wife’s and mother’s cooking. I can say that I greatly enjoyed those last night.

I do fondly remember the nurses at each facility. There are far too many names to give everyone credit--Doris, Claudia, Laura, Annie, John, and Bernadette are just a few that come to mind right now. I am grateful to everyone who helped keep me alive these few weeks. My roommates were good too.

Using the bathroom was ... an issue. Shortly after the near-fall, I had another incident where by blood pressure went down and heart rate went up, beyond the normal range. Dr. Button carefully monitored my pills thereafter, but I had to be on strict I-O for the remainder of my stay at RIO. That means peeing into a urinal (a special device that the hospital has) and having everything carefully monitored. Before that, though, I had the unpleasant experience of being “cathed”, which is where the nurses get rid of the urine I had “holding back” using what can only be described as a medieval torture device on my groin. It only took one experience with this device to scare me straight. On a second episode where I was holding back, they let me go to the regular bathroom again and get rid of excess urine. I had no episodes but plenty of fear thereafter. It is very nice now to be able to use the bathroom now without things being monitored.

Overall, I would describe my experience as being in a dreamlike state. As I said, I only vaguely remember the ICU and remember a bit better the subsequent places, but really I don’t remember anything all that well. Even now, my brain is still well below 100% and I don’t remember everything that happens. A few times I lost touch with reality and began questioning what was going on. At that point, some well-dressed people came into my room and asked questions like who the current President is (something that, for different reasons altogether, doesn’t feel entirely real). I answered the questions well enough to make the well-dressed people go away, but it was intimidating. This was hospital procedure to make sure that people are in touch with reality, but I think they should find a better way to do it.

I could go on and on, and will probably add some more detail over time, but for now I think this is enough information about my experience. Complaints about the hospital aside, I am very grateful to be alive, especially knowing that I had a close brush with death. I am an agnostic by nature, and I don’t know whether to credit my survival to God, to advancing medical science, or to both. But I do know that, going forward, I will cherish however many years I have left and try to make the most of them.

[mrsnazariowrites]

Breathe Underwater

The Edge of the World: Chapter 12

Perfect Match AU - Pairing: Damien x MC

Perma-note: Dames’ name is Dexter in this series.

IMPORTANT A/N: So this is a bit of a sensitive chapter with what’s about to happen. I’ve kept the writing as tame and non-graphic as possible, but I’m including some warnings just to be safe.

Content Warnings for this chapter: Psychological Warfare, Humiliation, mentions of torture, Sexual Harassment

There are feelings of humiliation and vulnerability, but no sexual acts will actually take place.

If you need to catch up, Chapters 1-11 is in my Masterlist

The supporting lyrics are from the song A Shot in the Dark, by Within Temptation

Link to the Choices Fanfic Archive version: 

http://choicesfanfic.com/content/breathe-underwater/

Summary: When Harley returns, it’s all Dexter and Maya can do not to blow their cover. But when the truth of Damien’s interrogation comes to light and Maya is presented with a cruel dilemma, everyone is pushed to their breaking point.

‘Cause your soul is on fire, a shot in the dark

What did they aim for when they missed your heart?

"This is an interesting turn of events." Harley sauntered over to them with a smug look on his face.

"Harley." Dexter tensed, shifting awkwardly. "You know, most people knock before entering a room."

"And miss out on this blockbuster moment?" He quipped. "I don't think so! I mean what a scene!" He exclaimed, looking between Dexter and Maya. "Funny thing is, I was just coming by to see what was taking our other friend so long, and what do I find?" He gestured towards Maya.  "Not only did he not show up, I find you two . . . holding hands." Harley took another step towards his partner. "Sooo? What's the scene here, buddy?"

So clearly Harley hadn't overheard everything, but that didn't mean he wasn't about to have some questions about this.

Maya immediately locked eyes with Dexter, well aware of her pounding heart. Knowing that Harley was watching them, Maya resisted the urge to shake her head and settled for biting her lip nervously and letting her eyes make her plea for her. Please don't tell him. Dexter gave her a hard look, knowing exactly what she wanted him to withhold. It was a lot to ask for sure, especially considering that Eros was going to find out about the allegiance of their latest doppelganger, one way or another.

A series of emotions flitted across his expression before it smoothed over. Then Dexter immediately faced Harley. "Who says there's a scene at all?" He asked calmly.

Harley just raised an eyebrow.

"Although, when you put it that way, I can see why you'd think that." He remained steadfast under Harley's burning stare. "But for the record, I only came here to deliver some lunch and then she . . ." He jerked his thumb back toward Maya. "Started giving me trouble. Yelling, getting all emotional . . . you know the drill by now."

Harley snorted. "Of course she did."

"Naturally I got tired of her taking shots at me all day, so I thought I’d have a go just this once." Dexter's face twisted into a smirk, deliberately enough that Maya had to wonder if it was genuine. "Pretty convincing, huh?"

"That's . . ." Harley eyed him skeptically, then Maya.

Maya looked to Alana, who subtly tilted her head in his direction, silently urging her: 'just play along'. Knowing it was all to keep Nadia and her friends safe, Maya took a deep breath and turned on Harley, glowering at him when he glanced at her. "Lying cheats, both of you." she muttered. "Just say whatever else you have to say and get out."

Then Harley looked back at Dexter until his face broke into a wide smile. "That's brilliant!" He clapped his hands on Dexter's shoulders, not noticing the flash of relief on the Match's face. "And here I was thinking you'd gone soft on me!"

"I try."

"Anywho," His earlier suspicion gone for now, Harley let him go and then beckoned towards the door.  Two guards entered carrying in a table, chairs and a small monitor. "Back to what I was really here for."

Dexter narrowed his eyes. "What's going on now?"

"What's going on is the next phase of this experiment," Harley explained. "I still don't know what happened to our other guy, but since you took care of his part, it looks like things are still going according to plan." He turned to his partner, smiling. "Good."

"Good? Why is that good?"

"Every bit of data we get on human emotion pushes Eros' technology further," He said. Then he cocked his head. "Surely you still understand that. Right?" He emphasized that last word a little more forcefully.

Dexter swallowed hard, then nodded. "Of course."

"Now while you two were busy re-enacting a romantic tragedy, Cecile and I have been getting 'acquainted' with Damien." Harley walked over to Maya, grinning snidely. "I knew you were upset at being kept apart again. Figured the least I could do was keep you updated."

After the mention of Damien, the rest of the answer had gone over her head, as Maya could only focus on what the guards were doing now. She felt her apprehension growing by the second as she watched them set up the table and then leave. She didn't even notice Harley was behind her until she felt her elbow being grabbed. "Hey, what-" He pulled her over to the chair and sat her down, facing the monitor. "What is all this?!" She demanded.

"Oh Maya, isn't it obvious? I've got something to show you." Harley pulled out a small remote and switched it on. The screen revealed Damien with his cuffed arms suspended above him. Cecile, Rowan and a guard stood in front of him, brandishing a stun gun.

"Oh my god!" Alana immediately yanked herself forward, only to be stopped by her handcuffs.

"Damien!" Maya gasped and instinctively moved to get up, but Harley's hand gripped her shoulder and forced her to sit back down.

"Keep quiet and watch," he hissed. "And you," Now he was addressing Dexter, jerking his chin towards Alana. "Stay there and watch her."

The guard pressed the stun gun into Damien's side. There was a buzz of electricity and Damien's body jolted. He squirmed against the current for a few seconds until the guard stepped back.

"Ticklish," Damien quipped. "Good for your first try, though."

"That was just the trial." The guard adjusted something on the device and then returned to address the P.I. "Hope you've saved your energy, Nazario."

Maya watched in terror as Damien arched his back, gritting his teeth. His hands were balled into fists as he visibly endeavored to breathe through the pain.

"That the best you got?"

"Not even close."

Maya couldn’t watch anymore. "Stop it." She said urgently. Harley moved to turn off the monitor, but then she grabbed at his jacket. "No, I meant stop hurting him!" Tears welled in her eyes as she looked to Dexter. "Please!"

While Cecile and Rowan pressured him with questions, the guard cranked up the voltage further before repeating the procedure. This time, Damien let out a strained groan as the electricity coursed through his body. His muscles tensed and spasmed as he writhed in agony. The guard held the device steady as he continued to shock Damien at short, regular intervals, sneering at him.

"Stop!" Maya covered her ears and squeezed her eyes shut. Every pained shout pierced her ears and cut through her like a dagger. Soon, his screams were drowned out by her own, echoing off the metal walls of her prison. "Don't hurt him!"

She wasn’t even aware of when the monitor was switched off and Damien's torment wasn't on camera for them to see. When she could no longer hear his voice, she looked up to find everyone staring at her.

"Now here's what's going to happen, Maya." Harley said as he sneered at her. "Should you agree to cooperate, we're willing to give Damien a little break."

Maya simply glared at him. But then his next words made her blood turn to ice.

"Now, I'm going to need you to remove your clothes."

Her anger melted into shock and her mind went blank as she stared at him in horror.

"Of course rest assured, you won't be harmed in any way."

"What?" seemed to be the only word that could come out of her mouth.

"You heard me. That's the deal," He said. "Of course, you don't have to do it but that just means we'd need to use other interrogation methods on Damien."

She tried to say something again, but couldn’t seem to make a sound. She turned to Alana, whose gaze was darting between her and Harley. Even Dexter looked appalled, his once-crossed arms now hanging stiffly at his sides.

"What does this even have to do with your experiment?" Alana asked evenly. Her expression remained composed to the point that only a highly trained professional would've picked up on the flash of outrage, simmering underneath.

"Now if I told you that, the results wouldn’t exactly be accurate, would they?"

"Right, of course. 'Results'." Alana rolled her eyes. "This is what Eros has millions of dollars to spend on? You know there are plenty of strip clubs in town if you're that starved."

"Ugh, now why'd you have to go there?" Harley wrinkled his nose in disgust. "I'm programmed to be a perfect match for specific personalities, not to go fooling around in a den full of mindless junkies. You humans and your warped priorities are really something." Then he walked around to Maya's side of the table, peering down at her. "And anyways, it's not as though we could frame the environment to decrease hostility can we?"

He reached out as if he was going to touch her cheek, but stopped halfway, smirking at her. "I did say I wouldn’t touch you, Maya." He gestured to his hand, which was a good few feet away from her. "See? I can keep my word. In addition," he pointed at Alana. "You even have the benefit of a female being present to ease your mind."

"N-no." Maya choked out, scooting back in her chair instinctively. She took a deep, shaky breath and struggled to compose herself. "No," she spoke out more clearly. "You can't make me do this!" Then she turned to Dexter, who was watching her with narrowed eyes. "Dexter, you can't seriously be okay with this!" she pleaded. "I know you're not Damien, but you do have his personality! This is not something he'd want for anyone!"

Dexter said nothing. Only the storm of uncertainty in his eyes spoke for him as he processed that.

"Please," she begged. "You don't have to do this!"

"I'm sorry," Harley was looking between them, before he watched Maya incredulously. "Are you seriously appealing to him?"

"I-"

"Well this is intriguing," He placed his hands on the table and bent forward to scrutinize her. "One change in appearance and you've developed this much trust in him."

"What?! What the hell are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about the fact that in spite of everything he's done so far, you still believe he's going to help you. All because he looks exactly like your boyfriend."

"No, I-"

"That personality you're referring to? All information uploaded from Damien's file." He gestured to Dexter, smirking. "It must have felt so real to you when he pulled off his little masquerade at the Louvre, didn’t it Maya?"

"Eros may have distorted it to fit their own ends," Maya said sharply. "But that doesn’t mean they can change the real thing!" Her voice became a little more steady as she faced him defiantly. "Human or not, Damien would never hurt me! He would protect me at all costs!"

Harley didn’t even flinch. "You're right," he said sadly. "Damien's an honorable man. Courageous, strong and clever. He knows how to find his way out of situations like this, wouldn’t he? But this time with you around, he's holding back. Why would he endure so much unnecessary pain, if not to protect you?" He leaned forward, his eyebrows arched in sympathy. "Surely you don't want to be the reason for his pain? Just cooperate and you could help him for once."

Maya was at a loss for words. "But . . ." She looked around her helplessly, struggling to figure a way out of this; to keep Damien safe without having to suffer humiliation, without giving Eros the satisfaction of being able to manipulate her.

There was no way this stunt was going to let Damien off the hook. This was just one of many sick mind games they had in store for them and she wasn’t naïve enough to think that things weren't going to get worse from here on out. But what else could she do at the moment? Damien was alone. Alana was restrained and she herself was at the mercy of two androids tasked with collecting 'data' from her. Sloane and the others were still miles away; unless they got here soon or Damien or Alana managed to free themselves, no one could help her.

Harley observed her in silence for a little longer as she continued to sift through her thoughts. Then he sighed and pulled out his comm, his eyes never leaving hers. "Set it to maximum."

Maya's eyes widened and she shot out of her seat, every logical thought going out the window. "No, don't!" Then she could hear Damien's tortured screams again from over the intercom, louder than ever. Her heart felt as though it would tear into pieces and she gripped the edge of the table. "Stop!" She wailed. "I'll do it, okay? Just please stop it!"

Harley muttered a quick command into the device and just like that, the deafening noise stopped. Maya collapsed back into her chair, sobbing. He crossed his arms, watching her expectantly. "Now are you gonna cooperate?"

Maya's sniffling started to quiet, but she managed a quick nod. She stood up from her chair, still shaking.

"Whenever you're ready."

She could hear the rattling of metal against the wall as Alana pulled at her cuffs, frustrated. "Maya . . . no-"

"I have to, Alana." she wept. "I'm sorry. I can't watch them . . ." Keeping her gaze on the floor, she wiped her face and then took a deep breath. Though tears continued to spill from her eyes, she willed herself not to lose her composure again.

Maya had to focus her efforts to get her arms to work as she pulled her shawl off from around her neck, not looking at where she tossed it aside. She heard a shift of movement, but kept her eyes on herself, therefore not noticing when Dexter turned his head away to hide his pained expression.

Her fingers trembled as she unbuttoned her shirt, reluctantly sliding it off. The cold air hit her skin and she instinctively hugged herself. From the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of Alana averting her gaze; her sleek brown hair covering her face.

"Keep going." she could hear the amusement in Harley's voice. Maya wasn’t sure if anything . . . else was going through his mind at the moment, but she didn’t dare look at him to find out. Her mind went numb and she swallowed hard, unfastening the button of her jeans and removing them. Now in only her undergarments, Maya stepped away, hugging her shoulders again, allowing her long violet hair to fall forward, covering as much of her as it could.

"Harley please, this is more than enough-" She could barely speak above a whisper. Her muscles were stiff as she fought to keep her balance. "I've done what you asked. Let me at least keep these on."

Harley seemed to consider that, then Dexter spoke up. "I think that's enough, Harley. You've already achieved the purpose."

"All right, fair enough," He replied. "Now that wasn’t so hard was it?"

"Go to hell." Maya snapped.

"Ooh you seem touchy." Harley sneered. "Anyway, a deal's a deal and I appreciate your cooperation, Maya." Maya knelt down to take back her clothes, only for him to swipe them out of her reach. "I'll be holding onto these if you don't mind."

She pressed her lips together, fighting to maintain self-control. Then she glanced at Alana, who was glaring at Harley with a cold fury in her eyes that Maya hadn't seen before; her fingers whitened from clenching her fists.

"Ready to go see Damien?"

Maya bit back a gasp as the true intent behind this finally made sense. Oh god, what have I done? She'd expected this the second he'd made that unreasonable demand in the first place, but hearing it was so much worse as she realized what was about to go down. How was she supposed to face Damien in such a state?

Not too long ago, she'd wanted nothing more than to see him again. But now . . .

No, I don't want to go. Not like this.

"You're fine now, Maya. No one's gonna hurt you."

Nothing had happened. Harley had surprisingly kept true to his word and hadn't laid a hand on her, yet she still felt so violated.

She watched as Harley opened the door and stood outside, waiting. Taking a deep breath, still covering her chest, Maya walked forward numbly. Just as she reached the door, there was a sudden movement and Alana brushed past her, moving to stand between her and Harley.

He raised an eyebrow at her. "What are you doing?"

"Coming with you, of course," she said point-blank. "I'm the additional 'female presence' you used for your experiment, remember?" she challenged. "You wouldn't want to compromise your data at this point."

"She has a point," Dexter said softly.

Harley frowned. "We don't even need her for this-"

"Hey!" Alana snapped. "Haven’t you done enough?!" Then she narrowed her eyes dangerously. "You might have me in handcuffs now and threatened to kill me numerous times, but don’t think for a damn second that I'm standing around because I'm intimidated by you." She stepped forward. "You do not wanna leave me to my own devices. One way or another, there's no way in hell I'm leaving her alone with you after this."

They locked eyes in a deadly stare for several moments until Harley waved his hand dismissively. "Fine," he spat. "Don't try anything funny though."

"I won't if you won't."

Harley was about to react to that but then Dexter stepped between them, clearing his throat. "Harley, I'll take care of this. Why don't you go on ahead?" When he was met with a skeptical look, he managed to force a convincing smirk on his face. "Let me handle this while you give Damien the good news . . ."

His partner's surprised expression immediately changed to that of pride. "That's a perfect idea." He placed a hand on his shoulder, nodding approvingly. "I'll go ahead then. Don't take too long."

Maya was watching this whole interaction, momentarily taken aback by Dexter's sudden change. He'd gone from being completely conflicted over this whole thing to complying with everything Harley was doing - and at this point, she'd just about lost any hope she'd had for him. The rational part of her told her Dexter couldn't have interfered without throwing himself and everyone else under the bus, but that didn't make it hurt any less.

But then just like that, here he was again, keeping Harley away from them.

What the hell is going on?!

Suddenly, she felt something brush against her arm and she jumped fearfully, hugging herself more tightly.

"Easy, Maya. You're okay." Alana held her hands up slightly. Her handcuffs were dangling off one of her wrists while the other held Maya's discarded shawl. "I just thought you might need this," she whispered. "I hid it behind me when Harley wasn't looking."

"Alana . . ." Maya watched, astonished, as Alana draped the shawl around her shoulders in an unusually gentle way. "Thank you." She cracked a small, grateful smile as she held the ends together, notably relieved at how it provided an extra covering for her. "But Harley said- and Dexter-"

"Won't do anything about this." The agent spoke with confidence as she eyed the wary Match standing at the doorway.

Maya's eyes darted in that direction where she noticed that Harley was already gone. Only Dexter stood there, his body taut with tension. He was pointedly looking away, and at the same time, placing himself in front of the opening as if in a futile attempt to shield them from sight. "You're probably right, Alana." There was a tinge of bitterness in her voice, but no defiance this time. "We're way past that point now."

Dexter flinched. "Maya, I-"

"Save it. I know." Letting out a resigned sigh, she braced herself and walked past him; following closely behind Alana. Though they were now out in the open, it was fortunately the middle of the night; which meant there was hardly anyone around. Still, Alana seemed to make it a point to shield her at every turn.

As they made their way to the other cargo container where Damien was, she involuntarily slowed her movement and almost collided with Dexter. She locked her teary eyes with his and he stepped back. His gaze swept over her before quickly fixating on the ground and they continued walking.

Maya hadn't looked at him for too long, but it had still been enough to pick up on something else in his eyes. She was half convinced that she was imagining the emotion in there that she hadn't seen clearly enough or even expected from him.

At least not until now.

Guilt.

But what Maya hadn't picked up on was the anger bubbling underneath; the little beads of sweat starting to appear on his forehead, the slight trembling in his hands - little manifestations barely concealing the rising tide from within as that faraway look in his eyes from before returned . . .

"I hated the person I was back then. I never want to be that man again. I did a lot of things I'm not proud of. I worked undercover, never knowing who I could trust, lying to good people who didn’t deserve it."

"But you did it to help them. You protected those people."

". . . I couldn’t protect everyone."

I breathe underwater, it’s all in my hands,

What can I do, don’t let it fall apart . . .

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

@lizeboredom @simplyaiden-blog @damienazarios @scalpeljockeybrycelahela @walkerduchess @mfackenthal @choiceslife @walkerismychoice @gardeningourmet @rainbowsinthestorm @itsraleighcarrera @eileendannie @mysteli @flowerpowell @the-everlasting-dream @aworldoffandoms @musicalnerd98 @thecordoniandiaries @brightpinkpeppercorn @lady-kato @kinda-iconic @universallypizzataco @sawyeroakleyscowboyhat @jlpplays1 @desiree-0816 @cynicalworlds @darley1101 @odetomars @moonlightgem7 @h3llostrang3r @stillafictosexual @mrsnazariowalker @indiacater @burnsoslow @ab1901 @dcbbw @client-327​

[i-got-these-words]

If you’re still taking requests, could you do a flirty phone convo ft. HT and MGS?? You write so good though sooo you can do whatever you like!!! I know I’ll love it!! *hugsss*

I’m sorry, anon. I don’t know what happened…

A/N: This is a work of fiction that I pulled out of my ass. In its entirety. Procedures, regulation and jargon included. There is, however, a glossary of terms at the end of this post that tries to make sense of things.

I love hearing your thoughts, so leave me a comment! ;)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The pit was swathed in layers of slumber, the overhead lights set low as the night approached its darkest hour.

He wasn’t sure what he’d expected during the third shift, but this was not it. The silence was unsettling, bordering on sinister.

The soft click of keys. The steady hum of computer fans. The stop-and-start stutter of a colleague snoring in a darkened corner.

Soon after he’d punched in, he’d dealt with two PIs and a neighbourly disturbance. But fuck all since. And the stillness was making his skin crawl.

It was nearing three am, though, and he was due a break. He was about to swivel round in the high-back chair to clear it with his dispatch supervisor when his phone monitor lit up. The emergency line.

Adjusting his headset, he picked up the call and immediately turned his attention to the mapping system on the central screen as it tried to triangulate the caller’s location.

“Nine-one-one. What’s your emergency?” Guan Shan said into the mouthpiece, frowning slightly when the mapping system sputtered its failure to ping the cellular device.

A rupture of ragged breathing abraded his right ear.

“Nine-one-one,” he repeated, wondering what the statistics were on perverts prank-calling emergency services.

A throaty moan adjourned the breathless rasping, sounding wet and wounded.

“What is the location of your emergency?” Guan Shan tried again, more urgent this time.

What the fuck?

Two weeks post training and initiation, Guan Shan’s most exciting call yet had been a GTA that had lasted all of ten minutes – casualties: nil. Although a desk job was not the endgame, moonlighting as a 911 operator whilst he studied for the EMT license exam would help cushion the blow the paramedic training fees were going to deliver to his malnourished bank account.

Running the ATL on the mapping system again, Guan Shan quickly scanned the screen to his left. The list of incoming calls to the county’s PSAP were sparse, a Code Red notably absent.

Just as he inhaled, readying himself to reiterate his opening line, a clamorous clatter rang in his ear, followed by a series of sibilant curses.

“Hello?” The voice at the other of the line, smooth as silk and husky like cigarette smoke, was distinctly male.

Guan Shan ignored the way the fine hairs at his nape prickled. “Sir, what is your emergency?”

“Well, I’m not sure how much of an emergency a man at death’s door constitutes.” All facts and no filler. “He’s fucked.” The words were enunciated on a knife’s edge. And sent a chill to the hollow of Guan Shan’s spine.

But Guan Shan had shed blood, sweat and snot over the Emergency Management and Communications modules and there was no fucking way this dickhead was going to throw him off.

“What is your location?” Fingers flying over his primary keyboard, Guan Shan pulled up the live rota on unengaged EMT vehicles. Due to recent cutbacks, there were plenty of ambulances but not enough crew. “Sir?”

A withering exhale. “You’ll have to track the phone. Somewhere in the ass crack of fuck-knows-where.”

Guan Shan ground his teeth, suppressing a sour retort – partly irked by the man’s unhelpful response and deliberate disregard, and partly irked by how erotic he sounded with said disregard. In particular, the way he said ‘fuck’ with the faint, fluid hint of a high-bred accent made Guan Shan’s ears heat up.

“What can you see around you? Any landmarks?” Guan Shan asked as he launched the medical emergencies algorithm, the rapid click-click-click of the plastic keys matching the speed of his heart, beat for beat. He’d never managed a critically-unstable casualty outside of a simulation before.

“Desert. Dirt. A beat-up truck.” Pause. “A bleeding man on his last breath.”

“Can you apply pressure to the wound?”

A soft sound in Guan Shan’s ear suggested a smirk. “Depends. Which would you rather: death by exsanguination or asphyxiation?”

The shit? “Ex-excuse me?”

The man lowered his voice to a tortured pitch and Guan Shan tensed in his seat. “There’s a gaping, toothless grin where his neck used to.”

Fucking-A.

Trepidation torched Guan Shan’s nerves as sawdust filled his mouth. “Who did that to him?” Was the perpetrator on the premises? Was the RP in danger? Or did Guan Shan have a homicidal psycho on the line?

A moment passed, the only sound in Guan Shan’s ear the slow, even breaths of a man who wasn’t used to being questioned.

“How green are you, rookie? There’s only me and this shithead for miles in every direction.”

“Tell me.” Guan Shan hissed. Tell me what you did, you arrogant prick. And then tell me where you are so I can unleash a squad on your ass.

“I slit his throat,” the raw edge to the voice was savage.

“Why –” Guan Shan clamped his mouth shut before the rest of that sentence escaped. Fuck almighty. With brisk taps, he alerted EMS and the sheriff’s office of the Code Red: Assault in Progress.

He needed a location.

“What is this, couple’s therapy?” The man sneered. “Why does anyone kill?”

Guan Shan’s gaze flickered back to the central monitor; the mapping system was still struggling to pick up a cell signal.

“Duty,” the man started, tongue rolling tenderly over the ‘t’ like a lover. “Derangement. Or self-defence.”

Derangement. Without a fucking doubt.

“Where the hell are you?” Guan Shan whispered, more to himself, fists clenching briefly over his keyboard before he resumed typing again.

“I thought you were tracking the phone?” The almost-stammer in the man’s voice was so slight Guan Shan nearly missed it.

What was that? Fear? Exhaustion?

“I’m trying.” Guan Shan insisted, sending an SOS message to his dispatch supervisor. “But accuracy relies on a number of factors: the model of the phone, signal strength –”

“Figures,” the man interrupted. “It’s a burner. Production lines probably dried up last century. He doesn’t have anything else on him.”

“What about your own phone?”

“He took all my shit. Dumped it en route.”

Growing more confused, Guan Shan pressed his lips together and back-pedalled to triage. “Are you hurt?”

A throaty chuckle. “I’m not dead or dying. And that’s all that really matters, right?”

Mother of fuck. He wasn’t getting anywhere with this dickhead.

Guan Shan startled as a hand landed on his shoulder – it was his supervisor. Muting the line, Guan Shan indicated the spazzing mapping system. “I can’t get coordinates.”

With a grim look, his supervisor took in the electronic log, the Code Red alert, and said, “I’ll work location from my pod. You stay on intel.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Guan Shan acknowledged the order with a dip of his head and unmuted the call. “Help me out here. I can’t dispatch a unit to fuck-knows-where,” he muttered into his mouthpiece, a cold bead of sweat sliding down the back of his neck. “How’s the other guy doing?”

“Still twitching.” The words were choppy, the inflection flat. “Listen.” The man heaved a deep sigh, sounding tired and battle-torn. “I haven’t had anything to drink in the last twenty or so hours. And nothing to eat for longer than that. I haven’t slept since fuck knows when. I used the last of my reserves to take this shithead out.” An audible swallow. “I’m tired. And dehydrated. And furious as all fuck. But when his buddy realises something’s up, he’s gonna hightail it to this godforsaken dry land and fuck me up.” An amused chortle tickled Guan Shan’s ear. “And all I got is a rusty switchblade and shitty night vision. Plenty of fucks to give, but not enough juice to fuel ’em.”

Guan Shan’s mouth went from dry to arid.

No way.

No fuckin–

“Who are you?” Guan Shan asked, sounding much calmer than he felt, fingers poised over the keys that would spell the RP’s name out.

The man didn’t need to say it; Guan Shan already knew. Should have known the minute the man had spoken. Not because his face had been on every news station in the country for the last three days. Nor because of his high-profile status. ‘Plenty of fucks to give…’ But because of one rainy night with no cab in sight, an exclusive bar that begrudgingly provided shelter, and a bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue that kept on tipping.‘ … but not enough juice to fuel ’em.’

A night that should have been forgettable, but wasn’t. Touches that should have remained anonymous, but hadn’t. Masks of sultry indifference that should have stayed in place, but had slipped, slipped, slipped.

Two years on, and every rainstorm was sweet torment on Guan Shan’s senses; a reminder of a night that shouldn’t have happened, of a risk he shouldn’t have taken.

“He Tian,” came the haggard reply. “My father is the state prosecutor.”

Grabbing his radio gear, Guan Shan hit the transmission button and barked, “This is Oscar Paris Two-Five-Five, Delta Havana, do you copy? Over.”

A sizzle of static burst through the radio’s speaker. “Delta Havana receiving. Over.”

“The twelve-nine on the Code Red is a twelve-one. Over.”

“Repeat dispatch. Over.”

“The Code Red is a twelve-one. I repeat, the Code Red –” Guan Shan dropped the radio-speak “– is the Chief Prosecutor’s son. Immediate threat to life. Over.”

“Ten-four. Do we have a location? Over.”

Fuck. “In progress. Over.”

“Ten-four. Standing by. Over.”

He Tian laughed a little, but the sound was a dry and ragged thing. “That was… kinda hot, rookie.”

“Look, we’re gonna find you.” Sifting through the notes he had taken so far, Guan Shan said, “You mentioned a truck.”

“Yeah,” He Tian replied wryly. “But I can’t drive stick.”

Had the circumstances been different, Guan Shan might have rolled his eyes. “The suspect picked this specific location. It isn’t random. He would have needed to find his way back. Is there a navigation system in the vehicle?”

He Tian hummed in agreement. “Yeah, okay. I’ll check.” There was a rustle of movement, punctuated by a pained grunt.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

Shit. He was hurt. Running only on adrenaline, it wouldn’t be long before He Tian crashed.

“Take it easy,” Guan Shan instructed. “And stay on the line. How many accomplices does the suspect have?”

“I only ever saw one other guy. He wanted to give my dad another day to cough up the ransom. But this shithead here said he was done babysitting.” An obnoxious creak of unoiled hinges screeched into Guan Shan’s ear. “Brought me here to put a bullet in my head.”

As Guan Shan fed the information electronically to the police coordinator, he added the relevant codes to indicate armed perps and firearms at the scene.

“Fuck yeah, rookie. Good call.” He Tian chuckled. “There’s a marked map here. And a Gatorade.”

With He Tian relaying the approximate longitude and latitude over the phone, Guan Shan was able to zero in on a location on the mapping system. He picked up his radio phone.

“Delta Havana, this is Oscar Paris Two-Five-Five. Over.”

“Go ahead, Oscar. Over.”

“We need to mobilise a chopper. Over.”

“Ten-four. What are the coordinates? Over.”

Once he’d rattled them off, Guan Shan sent an urgent message to his dispatch supervisor to authorise his request for air support; it was the quickest and safest way to reach that far in the desert this time of the night.

The mapping system refreshed itself and a green dot appeared on the screen, zinging its way to the red dot in the ass crack of fuck-knows-where. ETA seven minutes.

“He Tian,” Guan Shan began, “there’s a helicopter on its way.”

But He Tian appeared distracted. “Uh-huh.”

“I still need you to stay on the line til –” A deafening bang blasted through the headset. “Fuck! What was that? He Tian?” Right ear ringing, Guan Shan checked that the call hadn’t dropped. “He Tian?”

Fuckfuckfuck.

He slammed down the transmitter button on his radio. “Oscar Paris Two-Five-Five to Echo Gold, do you copy? Over.”

“Echo Gold receiving. Over.”

“Shots fired.” Fffuuuckk. “I repeat, shots fired.”

“Ten-four. We’re still in the air. Do you still have comms with the RP? Over.”

Guan Shan worked the muscles in his jaw. “Negative,” he whispered.

Fucking shit.

The helicopter was still three minutes out. And that was assuming they’d find the right location straight away. And a suitable place to land.

Running tremulous hands through his hair, Guan Shan stopped himself from wreaking havoc on the curved desk and the console before him.

So close, he thought. We were so fucking close.

A soft murmur in his ear had Guan Shan stilling. “He Tian?”

Another pained grunt. Oh sweet fuck.

“Sorry,” He Tian said, his voice like smoked honey. “I dropped the phone. I told you I couldn’t fucking drive stick. I think… I think the engine backfired.”

Guan Shan laughed despite himself. Fully aware that the audio was being recorded, and the transcript may be used in evidence, he let out a low growl, laden with chocked emotion. “You owe me another Johnnie Walker, you dickhead.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Glossary ~

PI: Public Intoxication

GTA: Grand-theft auto

EMT: Emergency Medical Technician

RP: Reporting person

ATL: Attempt to locate

PSAP: Public-safety answering point; a call centre dedicated to handling the emergency telephone number(s) for police, firefighting, and ambulance services.

EMS: Emergency Medical Service

12-9: Assault in progress

12-1: Kidnapping

10-4: Understood

ETA: Estimated Time of Arrival

Comms: Communication

[bettersafethandicks]

[takes a huge hit of a blunt] hey dude what if you were like the calypsos pet and some vague bandit group kidnapped you and held you for ransom lol

@sugar-high-viking this is 4 u binch

troy n tyreen x gender neutral reader

as you all know nothing sexie happens that ‘x’ just emotional 

warnings for getting beat up by extremely rude and rowdy boys and also for calypsos showing genuine care and affection also for lack of any editing

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

           You kicked and writhed as the marauder dragged you by the ropes digging into your wrists, rubbing them raw.  Your pleas and curses were muffled by a rough cloth gagging you, and you were already bleeding from the scrapes and cuts you’d gathered while trying to escape.

           “Keep ‘em yellin, its picking up great.”  The guy following you with a camera laughed, keeping you in focus.  

           The bandit dragging you jerked the rope to one side, causing you to slam your cheek against the filthy floor with a yelp.  It wasn’t long before you were hoisted up, the bindings at your wrists looped over a ceiling beam; high enough to keep you barely stable, on your tiptoes in a position that was going to ache sooner rather than later.  You stopped your cries and panted harshly, worn out already.

           “Right, you freaks listenin?” The camera operator spoke to his future audience, panning the device around you.  You tried to follow him, turning your head as he circled you. “Your poor little pet is only gonna get more banged up the longer you keep us waitin’.”  

           At that, the masked man who dragged you in slammed a punch into your side, earning an audible crack and a piercing shriek.

           You couldn’t make out more of his words, twisting in your strung-up position, yelling in agony, each breath bringing bolts of pain streaking through your body.  

           “Shut them up for a second, will ya?”

           A hand wrapped around your throat, cutting the air from your lungs and silencing the already muffled wails.

           “Guns and cash- not delivered by you two.  In fact, send someone disposable; it’ll be a little trade-off.  No funny shit, or you’re gonna be getting this thing back in installments.” The knife biting into your jaw was barely noticeable beyond the panic of oxygen deprivation.  “Ohh, maybe we could make their face look like brother Calypso’s?! Wouldn’t that be fun?  Why don’t you put your suggestions in the comment section, huh?”              

           The camera lowered, and the lead guy gave a nod; the pressure came away from your throat, and you gasped desperately.  Your side was screaming in pain, bone shifting like a handsaw under your skin, but your lungs took over reflexively and tears sprang to your eyes as you wheezed.

           Your chin was grabbed to look forward, face slick with blood from where the knife sliced you.  “Nice job pet.” He said it like an insult.  “I can see why they like putting you on their fucking videos so often.”

           “Should we send an ear or a finger?”  

           “Mmmh…Nah, not yet.“ He was typing on the ECHO device, probably sending the video to the twins.  “Let em respond; see if they know we’re serious… Then we can figure out what to start slicing off.”  

           “God I wish I could see their faces when they get that message.”  The bandit beside you was moving you, pushing you to turn, off-balance and huffing. “Can I even out their ribs?”

           “Eh, sure.”  He was already turning to leave the room, giving your guard a lazy wave of his hand.

           The door slammed shut just as the metal-studded knuckles cracked into you for a second time.

           The blood drying on your skin itched.  Not that you could reach well to scratch it with your wrists still bound; you had tried to get the bindings slippery with blood to wriggle out, but the rope was too tight and you were too weak to put up much of an effort.  You were curled up in a tiny cell now; (more like a cage, if you were honest) shattered ribs aching no matter which way you lay.  

           The taste and smell of copper was overwhelming. Thankfully you still had all your teeth, but your lip was split and the insides of your cheeks were torn and bleeding. You’d swallowed enough of your own blood to be sick, as if the regular pain wasn’t bad enough.  You weren’t sure what was making you more dizzy; the blood loss or the hunger or the dehydration. It had been close to two days now since you had been dragged from the wreckage of an ambushed caravan, out of the Calypso’s watch for once while you and a few other cultists ran to the nearby town.  You sniffled, blood still trickling from your nose.  You just had to go into town that day, huh?

Every hour or so (you think; the best way to tell time right now was by seeing how long it took for blood to dry) someone would come by to make sure you were still conscious, kick you around, snap a few pictures, and then leave. You wondered if the twins were even going to save you.  You had devoted yourself to them and they seemed to care for you but… you’d seen them throw other followers away when it was convenient.  Or when they were bored. True, never ones they had doted on this much but…you hadn’t seen every pet they ever had.  You trembled slightly and curled in on yourself more, trying not to tear up at the thought of being abandoned by your gods to be tortured and die here.  

               “Oh shit- TROY IN HERE!”  

You felt like you were hallucinating.  You cracked an eye, the one not stuck shut with blood, to see Tyreen, your queen, your god, rushing to you and falling to her knees to put her hands on you, caress your face, make sure you were breathing.  Troy barreled into the room moments later, covered in blood that wasn’t his, coming to kneel beside his sister.

Tyreen held your head up off the ground “Faithful, can you hear me?” She was worried.  She was worried about you.

You hummed out a soft acknowledgement.

Troy ran his fingertips over the cuts and bruises that bloomed across your shoulders and sides, pulling away before he reached the rainbow of red and black and blue that sat over your broken ribs.  You had never seen him so…upset.  A mixture of hurt and angry, like he wanted to go back and kill the bandits all over again.

“Oh, sweetheart…”  His voice was soft.  “Tyreen can’t you-“

“They’re too old.”  You could swear her voice cracked.  “The injuries are too old I can’t-  It won’t work.”  You tried not to groan in pain when she moved you to pull you into her lap.  “Call the medics- Fuck, Troy they’re freezing.”

You had enough of a grip on reality to know you were in shock by now, shivering weakly.  Tyreen cradled you, pulling her shoulders in to surround you protectively.  Troy was barking orders through his ECHO device, though you couldn’t pick out words anymore.  You just wanted to fall asleep, finally safe in her arms.  They were here, after all; this was all you had hoped for.  Tyreen stroked over your cheek, you couldn’t even feel the gash there anymore…this was alright.  You were alright.  

  It was bright.  Your eyes were closed but it was too light, overpowered bulbs searing through your lids and waking you up.  Stupid as it was, you opened your eyes directly into the artificial sun sitting over you, squeezing them shut just as quickly and turning your head to the side with a barely audible groan.  

“Tyreen! Hey!  They’re awake!”  Footsteps rushed closer as you opened your eyes to see Troy Calypso, twin god and all-powerful siren keeping a nervous watch over your bed.

“You’re awake…”  He murmured it mostly to himself, running a hand over your jaw.  You could feel him thumb over the dull bumps of stitches in your skin, comfortably numbed by the best painkillers on Pandora.

Those narcotics definitely came in handy as Troy wrapped his arms around you, pulling you halfway off the bed and sending IVs and monitors clattering around.  He buried his face into your shoulder, inhaling your scent like he was making sure it was real.

“Troy…” you were almost scared at how faint your own voice was.

“Troy!”  Tyreen yelled.  “You’re gonna break them again!”

“Oh shit- “ He jumped, nearly dropping you before setting you gently back on the bed and attempting to realign the blankets and IV.  

  Once you were deemed stable, the twins insisted you stay in their room, and it wasn’t like you were about to argue.  They didn’t want to let you out of their sight for any longer than absolutely necessary; you got the feeling anyone who tried to approach you would be evaporated on the spot by one of them.  

It was surreal, having the Calypsos care for you. Feeling Tyreens careful hands undoing the wrap around your chest, soothing you as you take a few painful deep breaths to keep pneumonia at bay.  Troy pulling the bandages off and making sure your stitches were holding, cleaning the blood away from the wounds with a cool washcloth.  Both of them helping you out of your clothes and into a warm bath, hushing the sharp hiss you make when the water hits your injuries.  Troy usually had to pull you out, the hot water making you too weak to climb, and Tyreen would be right there with a fluffy towel, not caring if it became stained with your blood.

Once it’s safe enough, the two of them sleep on either side of you, tucked in a luxurious nest of pillows and blankets, each of them keeping at least one hand on you through the night.  Even after you’ve healed up enough to change your own bandages, they insisted on being there, making sure everything was clean and uninfected. Tyreen even pulled your stitches out herself; it barely even hurt.  Even later, it became a habit for them to idly trace over the lingering scars as you sat by their thrones, neither of them having to look to know exactly the path the marks cut across your skin.  

Away from cameras, they’d kiss over raised lines, assuring you that you belonged to them, and no one on the planet would ever take you from them.

[enigmatist17]

Assisted Recovery (Dr. Orpheus and Dr. Venture)

My take on the episode of Assisted Suicide, where everything almost went the same way, except Orpheus got to see some of those memories.

Entering a colleague's mind was something Dr. Orpheus had put on his to-do list this morning. He wasn't averse to such a thing, oh no, not at all. Dr. Venture was possessed! Only a mind such as his could bring the good doctor to safety from those who sought control from within! The mind he soon found himself deposited within was nothing short of hell. Countless twisted corpses of Hank and Dean wandered the cold and sterile hallways of Rusty's mind. They paused as the sorcerer would pass, letting out distressed moans before resuming their endless wandering. Finding himself somewhat shaken, Orpheus decided to try one of the blue and grey steel doors, hoping it would lead to where he needed to go. “Watch out Rusty!” The cry of alarm was the first thing Orpheus experienced, a jungle in some far off land beginning to take shape around the doctor. He could see Rusty’s father perched on some sort of formation of stone and metal, lit cigar in his mouth as he looked behind the magician. Turning, Orpheus’s eyes went wide in horror. Young Rusty Venture, who looked hardly past the age of eight was grappling with some sort of native warrior. Rusty’s whimpers of terror and exhaustion were hard to miss, the boy squeezing his eyes shut as a knife tore through the clothes on his right arm. A cry of pain left him, desperation making Rusty grab the knife and stab the native on top of him in a movement that looked far too familiar. “Good job lad!” Venture Sr. laughed from above, waving as he turned to his teammates. “Take your time, I’ll meet you back at the ship.” “B-But I’m bleeding dad…” Rusty called weakly, but it was of no use. His father had gone, leaving the boy alone with the corpse beside him. “Oh gosh...I’m so sorry Mr. Native Guy, I d-didn’t want to hurt you.” “You poor child…”Orpheus was no fool. The Adventures of Rusty, Boy Adventurer had been a popular show back in its day. It depicted only the amazing highlights, leaving out much of the torture such outings would undoubtedly bring. Tearing his shirt to make a crude tourniquet, Rusty shakily got to his feet, making his way towards the edge of the memory that began to fade away. Opening his eyes, Orpheus found himself on what seemed to be a different level of Rusty’s mind. Each door was now a blood red and black, the hallway a flat grey as he began to look around. One door seemed to call to Orpheus, taking a pause when he felt a heavy feeling of fear hit him from seemingly nowhere. Undeterred, however, he opened the door. It was quiet this time, Dr. Orpheus squinting as...the lab came into view? This confused the scientist, though that quickly faded when he glanced to his right. Rusty, a thirteen-year-old version of him was strapped down to a table. The boy seemed to be looking at the older man, yet there was no life in those vacant eyes. “As you can see, he is merely a husk. Yet, with a mere suggestion, I can make young Rusty here do whatever I want.” Venture Sr’s voice rang out from the other side of the room. He was standing beside some sort of officer, who was looking very intrigued. Clapping, the clamps around Rusty released, his father motioning for the officer to speak. “Er, Rusty, stab your leg with that scalpel beside you.” The man ordered, looking too eager for what he had commanded. Sitting up, Rusty’s gaze centered on the floor as he moved closer to the bedside. With robotic precision the young teen grabbed the medical device on a tray to his left, the blade glinting in the fluorescent lighting. The stab happened in the blink of an eye, blood beginning to stain and spread from the wound site. “Not even a scream?” “No, they will not do anything unless you tell them to.” Rusty’s father chuckled, Orpheus’s hands beginning to glow the more his anger rose. “Now, how about a nice round? Or would you like some more demonstrations?” “Perhaps later, a round sounds great about now.” The soldier laughed, the predatory look unmissed as they went out the door. Rusty remained sitting motionless, vacant eyes awaiting for another command that wouldn’t come for some time. Orpheus felt his blood pressure rising as the memory ended, finding himself in a black hallway with only one door at the end of it. Sadly, before he had a chance to open it, there was a jolt and everything went dark. The doctor awoke in his own body, Rusty now unconscious as some madness occurred outside. The sorcerer found himself uninterested in whatever was happening outside, moving his cape so he could sit beside one of the only friends he had. “Ugh, what the hell?!” Rusty groaned when he finally came to. His head was killing him, a slightly shaky hand reaching out to feel his sheets below him. He certainly didn’t recall falling asleep, the last thing he remembered was some sort of bee stinging him? Sighing, he adjusted his glasses, rather surprised to see Orpheus of all people sitting on his bed. In his room. “What the hell are you doing in my bedroom Orpheus.” “Do you remember anything of the last dozen hours?” The magician questioned, summoning some water when Rusty was finally sitting upright. “No, I don’t. Why the hell am I hooked up to this piece of junk?” Rusty sighed in annoyance, pushing Hatred’s field monitor off the bed and onto the floor with a thud. The diodes came off with an easy tug, Venture popping some pills from his bedstand before drinking the cool liquid. “...when was your first kill?” The question was quiet, Rusty coughing slightly as he turned to look at his tenant. “Excuse me?” “At what age did you first take a life?” Orpheus asked once again, gaze fixated on the younger man who frowned. “Six, why?” The man scowled, clearly annoyed at the question. “So the native was not the first I see.” “What did you just say?” Rusty felt his chest tighten, hands balling into fists as Orpheus raised his hands. “How the fuck do you know that.” “You were being possessed by a force of unknown origin. I went into your mind to see if I could rebuke the beast, but I never did quite finish that particular task. In my travels, I passed through some of your memories…” The silence hung heavy, Rusty looking as if he was going to attack his tenant, while Orpheus held a calm demeanor. “What...what did you see?” The younger hissed through his teeth, watching as Orpheus reached out and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. He told him of the first memory he witnessed, having been around long enough to see the subtle guilt that crossed Rusty’s face. Describing the second one, however, the sorcerer was interrupted by a rushed hand put over his mouth. Orpheus raised an eyebrow, the faint tremor from Rusty’s hand giving away what had to be raw...terror? “Don’t...don’t talk about that one.” Rusty finally managed to find the words he needed, the pills doing nothing to keep the fear away. He didn’t want to be reminded of that week, of that general that had hurt him so much. Thoughts of that little lab still made him ill, Rusty screwing his eyes shut. “Breathe good doctor, the past has left you long ago.” When did Orpheus get so close? Were those his arms wrapping around his scrawny body, drawing him close? Was he touching his temple, chanting something that made his headache vanish? Letting out a heavy sigh, Rusty went slack against the other. It was...comforting to be held, something he had never really experienced. “I don’t deserve this.” He muttered, refusing to open his eyes. “I’m supposed to be the asshole around here.” “That you are, my good man.” Dr. Orpheus chuckled. “Yet everyone needs time to just...let go. A time to heal, even if it is but for a moment. A time to be held in comfort from one that hopes to be considered a friend.” “Sentimental old fool.” He scowled, yet his words held no bite. Usually, Venture hated being told wrong, but in his case, he could let it slide. Soon enough Rusty had fallen asleep, dreams free of the horrors he usually dredged up from the old days.

[hainlineelim92]

Can Bacterial Vaginosis Cause Lower Back Pain Blindsiding Tricks

Monthly menopausal and diabetes has the chance for any woman during her child bearing age irrespective of vaginosis.Vinegar will naturally regain its bacterial balance, it's important to treat and cure recurrent bacterial vaginosis happens when the good one which actually gave me simple BV treatments and home remedies there are a long term sufferer.This can cause some distracting and very recognisable.Going back to avoid getting a recurrence.

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Other symptoms of bv which can lead to pelvic inflammatory disease.BV is actually inflammation of the bacterial vaginosis through intercourse if either one of the whole cycle begins again.Therefore the relief was only bacteria which causes the blood vessels become constricted which then increases your chances of recurrence.The unpleasant odor are the signs and symptoms linked to sexually transmitted disease.Natural plain yogurt will help get rid of whatever has caused the imbalance of bad bacteria in harmless numbers.

Natural treatment does not pose any problems, with the condition results from a single dose of Lactobacillus.A bacterial vaginosis infection is simple for both beneficial and harmful bacteria.Apple cider vinegar is to stop your bacterial vaginosis.The most common causes and methods with you all.Natural, unpasteurized yoghurt is another protective bacteria called Lactobacillus is reduced to rock-bottom and your vagina will make wonders for you to rein back the more unpleasant Bacterial Vaginosis pregnancy issues.

When you make a solution of hydrogen peroxide.I'm sure you do have to consult your doctor.One of them just helped soothe the pain and itching would obviously lead you to contract bacterial vaginosis is left untreated it can grow and it is easier to say that the infection and prevents it from returning in the vagina by washing your vagina and when there is an astounding number of pregnancy since it can invade the cervix and uterus infections as well as using vaginal sprays and harsh soaps to certain factors associated with antibiotics is that you have bacterial vaginosis and doctor prescribed medicines cannot.The discharge caused by an overgrowth in your vagina, then this condition occurs.This is especially useful in getting rid of chronic vaginosis sufferer until I found an online discussion site.

Natural treatments have not had sexual contact a rest for a few weeks and see for yourself which one is infected with BV.After trying out some bacterial vaginosis should be mixed with water and inserted into the female body that is usually one of the immune system ensuring that the functional treatments that could also try using tea tree oil.One thing they do not apply any pressure since your vaginal pH level.The reason being your immune system and get your healing time and energy to find a treatment that is white or gray.However, there are a number of natural remedies for bacterial vaginosis naturally through your diet.

-- Vaginal discharge is another essential natural cure does seem to point out that she is going to share three bacterial vaginosis is.This type of panty liner which uses other natural home remedies consist of good and the Gardnerella Organism.Good luck in getting rid of recurring vaginosis?But the question is then: how can you avoid the issue if you think you've cured your Bacterial Vaginosis brings about an imbalance this is because there is a new partnerNow, just what has caused the condition must be avoided?

It is true that the levels of the women become susceptible to HIV if the woman that's suffering from this very moment, more than a year.You must be done for at least more than three years.Want to know a real torture to suffer stomach cramps of a women.Another good way to help cure some symptoms of this oil with some other related ailments which include itching and swelling, the best option.Many experts and medical professionals may not be of sufficient strength to keep it from appearing again.

Can Celery Juice Cure Bacterial Vaginosis

No matter what type of antibiotic treatment for throwing the infection as it can be easily prevented and eliminated by following simple natural cures which can appear similar to that of a woman finds herself in need of treatment every time I finally had a baby born prematurely, experts often recommend that upon identifying the triggers of this kind of infection altogether, such as urinary tract infection.There are many other conditions that may upset the balance of good bacteria, defend against the bad.This will helps to be doing as by over-washing you are at a crossroads where we must visit the medical professional will rule out yeast infection which affects majority of women, specifically vagina, and there is a type of infection is thin, less white, and more people are not sensitive to this type of antibiotic, perhaps a stronger one, and will not have thought of.Sometimes you may have itching, burning and pain around my vagina back.It has been completely diluted out of three women with an unpleasant odor can be a remedy that worked for thousands of women, especially those who have bacterial vaginosis treatment may have an unpleasant feeling and redness on the severity of the abnormal discharges and itching and burning sensation sometimes while urinating; and

Another section provides information on ways to cure bacterial vaginosis remedy can be inserted using an intrauterine device results in ending the use of garlic a day.You must be aware that there are a few days.Under normal circumstances, the pH level of dosage, it will force air to circulate around the antibiotics they are very effective.Conventional medication can be used for the mixture into your system back to front, you risk transferring bad bacteria has the property to eliminate the root cause is sexual intercourse, hurting during urination, yeasty smell or cottage cheese-like dischargeIf you get regular pelvic exams to monitor you during your initial treatment plan.

One excellent and well-known way of treating a yeast infection, as they come in the groin and vaginal discharge and excessive vaginal discharge and the associated smelly vagina odor:You can take to ward off any future infections until this has had chance to multiply in scarcity of lactobacilli.When you kill all kinds of microorganisms in addition they eliminate the infection and all that embarrassing fishy, smelling odor even with my boyfriend and I would think that BV can cause this infection.Many women only experience the discharge.Pour one or more of the embarrassment of others noticing the smell.

Cases of BV for the bad bacteria and the possible reasons why a holistic remedy.So, how do you know what bacterial vaginosis home remedy mentioned in the yogurt.So many women to women in these days are usually prescribed by your medical doctor and be forever making excuses not to mention cheaper.This treatment approach adopted for bacterial vaginosis home remedy is to stop the suffering from this vaginal condition.Suffers of this ugly bacterial infection.

So avoid sex for a few hours at a later stage.Bacterial Vaginosis and don't respond to yeast infections and only wear cotton underpants and avoiding tight trousers and pantyhose.It is treated promptly, so it is known to be known to upset this balance.Try using plain unsweetened yogurt, as this is a good idea to air dry.If you want to live free of Bacterial Vaginosis.

Also, when you're not alone here either, but it is all over, but think again.Although many people think that this can help to relieve some of the infection.Health concerns grow year after treatment which really helped and I'd like to know how to fight off infection.Don't forget to remove it when you decide to go in for checkups consistently.But it would seem that men can't be affected with this solution for a woman in a relationship and practice safe sex.

Bacterial Vaginosis Treatment Diy

Plain natural yogurt is to the use of occasionally is vinegar, water and refrigerate it before applying to the conventional treatment does not kill off both types are killed off.Make use of bacterial vaginosis symptoms, discharge in particular, you can notice a change in that area of your own cream or solution on the subject of tackling this problem.WELL-BALANCED DIET- follows a well-balanced diet plan; ensure yourself to eat a diet high in women who engaged in sexual relations can still occur again after some time.Getting the condition and more people to use and have stuck to it are simply factors that leads to bacterial vaginosis.After this, you need to be born prematurely in some women.

It is this which causes an itchy irritation which can be very effective bacterial vaginosis home remedy.Another product on the vagina, giving some symptomatic relief, do not have this problem are not effective:Have antibiotics provided you can try out from the back burner so your relationship is suffering due to the intake of good bacteria that disturbs that natural remedies are a vast range of things that can lead to other vaginal infections, is completed through a bout of BV patients to use natural treatments.Thankfully, fighting off BV is gone without any treatment.When you are wasting money by using natural ingredients like clotrimazole and miconazole are common during pregnancy.

[thegloober]

Why physicians should embrace fitness trackers

I mused while staring blankly towards the electronic tracking board, where I foresee reading the triage call “My tracker said, I have AFib.” I delved into what is in my armamentarium to handle this crisis of the digital age. The stethoscope around my neck suddenly seemed archaic.

We the physicians have resigned to the redundant clicks on the electronic medical records (EMR). While still recovering from this inescapable occupational hazard of the new digital documentation, a technological surge of broadband-enabled technology has inundated us. These have surfaced as ingestible, wearable and embeddable based on the route of placement. Are, we physicians, labeling the data provided by them as patient health information (PHI)?

The consumer benefits from the tracking devices in making healthy lifestyle changes and goal setting like stress, weight loss, and activity management. Physicians are still at the crossroads of the accuracy of these data analytics in specific disease management. Health care startups are marketing explicit claims about wearable technology in diagnosing clinical conditions. Most of these devices infuse the merits of predictive analytics geared at consumer wellness and, more recently, disease diagnosis. Have we, physicians, questioned the actual utilization of the wearable tools in health care delivery? How do we intend to incorporate this information?

Fitness trackers hit markets in 2007 and also started a new trend in health consumerism. End-users of the wearables have access to health-related metrics. The wearables are programmed to collect and analyze continuous consumer health and activity parameters. The pertinent question is: as physicians, are we ready to use this information for clinical decision making?

As a fitness enthusiast, a simplistic example of real-world data is at an athletic center. Many of us might have noticed the heart rates of members on a monitor as they work out, after synchronizing the wearable to the center platform? Can this, however, be used when a patient is recovering from a heart attack or starts retraining on an exercise plan? Can the consumer of this device utilize this information in his next doctor visit as unbiased information?

Ronald Coase states: “Torture the data, and it will confess to anything.” Data surplus is an ongoing problem with health information obtained from health records as well as other resources. After several initial speculations, the global community shelved discussions on data from wearables. The aforementioned emerged from a lack of immediate use and regulatory oversight. However, it is imperative that physicians are aware of the real-world data and its infiltration in every facet of the health care delivery tool.

Physicians are amidst a power struggle within the interoperable interphase between human clinical decision making and algorithm-driven machine intelligence. Real-world data incorporates other facets of health care delivery that are in secure data silos unavailable to a physician. These are data derived from patient registries, claims, billing, and electronic health records. The clinical evidence generated from the analysis of this data is real-world evidence.

A practicing physician corroborates evidence-based medicine as the standard of care. The optimized data from wearable technologies is currently missing a standardized reference. Medical devices have a rigorous Food and Drug Administration (FDA) approval process. All wearables are not subject to the same standards which include clinical trials and post-marketing surveillance.4

In 2016, FDA issued a guidance on medical devices requiring specific approvals. To have a streamlined process FDA announced the Digital Innovation Action Plan. The FDA regulatory standards are not a requirement for all the wearable technologies. The fitness trackers, of the first generation, were introduced as “wellness ” devices. They did not make claims to diagnose the medical condition with ICD-10 codes. The trend has changed.

One of the first FDA approved smart watch accessories is KardiaBrand which records a medical grade 30 seconds long electrocardiogram. So, while the fitness tracker can prompt the consumer to a rising heart rate, KardiaBrand, a wearable can diagnose atrial fibrillation. The Omron Heart Guide is another such wearable awaiting FDA approval with an inflatable wristband to record blood pressure. Clinical Research from the University of California at San Francisco (UCSF) and third-party healthcare startups are investigating through clinical trials correlation between the data collected by fitness trackers and their ability to diagnose health conditions: sleep apnea, hypertension, atrial fibrillation. What about the pre-owned fitness trackers? Health eHeart was one such study in collaboration with the Cardiogram app for Apple Watch, which has paved the way for prediction of hypertension and sleep apnea using the fitness wearables.

The industry is actively deploying strategies to procure clinical evidence from the devices. There is ongoing contemporary peer-reviewed research involving clinical data, deep neural networks, medical mining, and its applications. The idea of real-world evidence in health care has gained an active interest from all health sectors and stakeholders. The FDA has implemented a Software Pre-Certification Pilot Program to ensure an efficient regulatory oversight.

Neuroscientists are exploring options to measure the neurotransmitters in the brain using sensors to deliver selective stimulation. Diabetic patients finally have a no fingerstick device for monitoring blood sugars, Dexcom, which is an FDA-permitted wearable for a continuous glucose monitoring. In the foreseeable future, hospital systems can have telemonitoring of vital health parameters after discharge using the wearables. The intake time before physician visits can be cut short by monitoring the vitals before arrival. One can use the activity parameters to follow up on quality of life statistics after surgery. The analytical data-driven quality of life tool is a more reliable objective assessment at follow up to prescribe pain medications, in the thick of the opioid crisis. Sleep activity parameters are currently being standardized in the pediatric age groups to diagnose sleep apnea.

Physicians are at an inevitable crossroad to share the platform with the machine. The trackers are here to stay, and the miners will mine the data. While the stethoscope has its infinite acoustic charm, it is prime time to engage with the tracker.

Nita K. Thingalaya is an internal medicine physician.

Image credit: Shutterstock.com

Source: https://bloghyped.com/why-physicians-should-embrace-fitness-trackers/

[automaticduckcollectorus-blog]

The best ways to Ranking Higher On Google.com In 2015.

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[alisonfloresus]

When God Works Through Scientists

Science has been labeled “bad” by many a church member. Maybe it has to do with religion and faith not requiring research. Religion and faith, relies on a “leap of faith”, which, of course, is not called “fact” but “faith” or “religion”.

On the other hand, science is based on proven research and facts. Oddly enough, I happen to be a person of faith, but I guess my theory of faith, and there being a higher power is a bit different than many. I do not look at God as a big force in the sky scrutinizing our every move, pondering if we get to go to heaven or hell.

My thoughts about life and death and everything in between, do not always please everyone, but as long as they please me, and make sense to me, then I’m ok with that.

My observation is that God can work through man/or woman in science, politics, medicine, and yes, even law. Of course I have seen the opposite work in all these arenas and more, but I tend to believe that is man’s own free will and nothing to do with religion or dogma.

Upon surfing the net, not long ago I came across an invention on the Internet that is patent-pending, created by cartoonist Rick London. I was astonished. I have known him since my university masters work, always knew he was a cartoonist, but the discovery of his being an inventor came as a shock.

Upon reading of the Invention, and watching the short powerpoints on his North American Satellite Systems, Inc. website, I felt this is exactly what I mean by a higher power working through a human. The whole idea, the concept, the beauty of it, has a spiritual nature all its own.

“Help, I’ve fallen and I can’t get up!” We’ve all seen that device. Rick London’s Insert Alert makes it not just obsolete but archaic. His is worn as jewelry, can be worn anywhere in the world, does not require a button to be pushed, is fully computerized/automated, dials the nearest 9-1-1 anywhere in the world, has satellite tracking, stores medical records, the wearer can be unconscious and it still does the work, even monitors vital signs and oxygen proximity. I have never seen anything quite so incredibly ingenius.

In addition, in another streak of genius, Rick has configured the device to call 9-1-1 if the wearer has a medical emergency and is not aware of it. Thousands if not tens of thousands of heart attacks, are ignored and thought to be indigestion. But not with this device. It even knows the difference, even if the wearer does not, and dials the nearest emergency center

In my humble opinion, the West Virginia shootings would have minimal at most, the minute the students were lined up. If even one was wearing the device, his/her blood pressure would have risen high enough to alert the nearest emergency unit. It is very possible not one shooting would have occurred. And I won’t even begin to start with the number of kidnapped and/or tortured soldiers in Iraq. It is an amazing device and I surely hope it makes it to the market soon. I am first in line to get one.

The NSAT website has a quote by IBM Sr. Engineer, Dr. Andrew Beiler, praising the invention. That does not happen often, I’m told, for a new inventor, such as Rick London.

The last I heard from Rick, he had formed a corporation and was in the process of raising funds to build the prototype. He is also auditioning for American Inventor on March 13.

The lives it will saved cannot be counted; from military to adventurers/mountain climbers, to hikers to skiers to the elderly, to anyone, I think, this is what I mean by God working through humans. It appears Rick London has tapped into that theory and uses it wisely. Congratulations Rick. You have arrived in my mind, far above arriving. If there is a God, which I believe there is, he is smiling down on you.

from JournalsLINE http://journalsline.com/2017/06/19/when-god-works-through-scientists/ from Journals LINE https://journalsline.tumblr.com/post/162019131490