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egrets-not-regrets · 7 months ago

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Guesthouse of the (Lost) Astartes: To Render Aid (1)

Erriox and Lenora provide aid to a lost chaos space marine and his young bonded human.

Dialogue spoken in Gothic are bolded and italicized.

Author's Note: this is part 1 of the multi-part story. Here is Part 2, Part 3. and Part 4.

This fic is turning out to be very long, so I've divided it into two parts. It focuses on the relationship of a chaos space marine who is intensely bonded to his human and touches upon the issue with Black Templars bonding with humans.

Erriox is a responsible space marine and does responsible things. And no, he definitely does not do it for his bonded human's approval.

Thank you @squishyowl for making the fic dividers!

OCs: Lenora; Erriox (Iron Warrior); Ben; Malaran Blackspike (Black Legion)

Tagged: @kit-williams, @barn-anon, @bleedingichorhearts, @shadowfirecat, @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan,

@sleepyfan-blog, @c-u-c-koo-4-40k

Lenora had a sense that something was wrong just as Erriox barged into the house.

“Bring blankets and a medi-pack. He has an injured child.” He told her as he urged whoever he was leading to come inside the house. She swore and immediately went to her linen closet, drawing out a few bath towels and blankets, and set them onto the couch and one of the blankets on the ground. Erriox had already pushed away the coffee table to make more room. Lenora then went to get the first aid kit from her backpack. The other space marine stood there, unsure and wary of all the activity, only holding his bundled charge tighter against his armour.

When Lenora returned, she finally got a proper look at the new ‘guests’. The space marine was a chaos marine, she recognized the symbolism of the eight-pointed star with the red eye that decorated his worn and battered armour. He looked like he had seen better days and had good reasons to be wary. She worried about the human he carried mostly. It was still in the thick of winter, and very likely this person would be suffering from some degree of hypothermia. Even bundled in that blanket or cape, it was not enough to insulate from this biting cold for long.

“We should call and get them to a hospital.” She said to Erriox, about to pull out her phone.

“NO!” the chaos marine roared, about to leap forward to stop her. He didn’t know what she was saying, but he saw the phone that she was reaching for. Erriox snarled back, immediately shoving Lenora behind himself. Movement coming from the bundle in the chaos marine’s arms and a disconnected whine caught all their attention.

“Or-? Wha- s- wha- s-m going on?” The person in his arms was young, teen or a bit older perhaps, by the way they sounded. Lenora let out a breath of relief. Good. At least they were awake, somewhat.

She called out to them, slowly moving out from behind her Iron Warrior, his hand still preventing her from moving too far forward, “Hey buddy, I’m Lenora and this is my Astartes, Erriox. You’re at my house. Erriox brought you guys here to get you help. Do you understand me?”

The teen mumbled, “S… cold…”

“I know hun, we’re gonna take care of you. What’s your name?” She cooed comfortingly.

“Ben.”

“Okay, Ben. I’m going to have these guys help warm you up okay?

“K.”

“Are you hurt anywhere else?” She asked.

“Ssso c-c-cold.” Even Lenora could hear Ben’s teeth chatter without enhanced hearing. The chaos marine let out a worried gruff “Ben?”

She turned to Erriox, her voice stern and serious, “I’ll need you to translate for me. One, Tell him I will need to touch Ben to check for injuries. Two, Ben needs warmth immediately and you space marines are like giant heaters. Skin to skin heat would warm them up the quickest. Either you or he needs to take off the top half of your armour, gauntlets too, and put the child’s back against your chest. Hold his hands in yours to warm up his fingers. ”

The Iron Warrior translated what she said to his chaos-touched brethren. Lenora could only understand bits and pieces of their conversation, but it was clear that the chaos space marine did not like what was being asked, especially about being unarmored. She frowned, tapping on Erriox’s armour to get his attention, “I hate to put you in such a vulnerable position, but could you do it? Once I get the heating pad working, we can use that instead. We shouldn’t be wasting any more time.”

Her Astartes glanced at her and after some brief but terse words to the chaos space marine, took off the top half of his armour, gauntlets and all, exposing his bodysuit. He kept his weapons within short reach though. Erriox then quickly snatched the young human from the other marine, and settled on the floor. The teen sat securely in his lap unwrapped from the cape, back against his chest, their hands clasped in his.

“Ben, this is going to be a bit weird, but I’m going to lift the back of your shirt so you have more skin contact with Erriox. That’ll warm you up faster, alright?” Lenora said as she lifted the back of Ben’s shirt before pushing him against her Astartes again, trying hard to ignore the chaos marine’s intense stare.

She covered the teen with the cape again, then knelt in front of them and asked, “Ben, could you let me take off your shoes?”

Ben only nodded, wincing slightly at the friction of his shoes being pulled off his feet. Lenora frowned, worried at the state of the teen’s extremities. They’re cold and looked red. She looked at him, “Could you wiggle your toes for me?”

He did as asked, his toes wiggling slightly.

“How do your toes feel?”

“Kind of tingly.”

She then pinched each of his toes, confirming that the teen was able to feel, except for some numbness.

Lenora smiled slightly, the frostnip on Ben’s toes wasn’t as serious as she thought. That’s a good sign.

“Luckily it’s just frostnip and not frostbite.” She told him, “I’ll give you heated socks to warm your toes and bring back some feeling to them. Your toes might start feeling like they’re on pins and needles for a little bit. Ok?”

Ben nodded.

“Can I see your hands?” She requested, “How are they feeling?”

The Iron Warrior released his hands so Lenora could check the child’s hands. Ben nodded, confirming that he could feel his fingers again.

Erriox watched in silence as his bonded patiently tended to their young charge, glancing at the chaos marine occasionally. His dear gentle Lenora, still admirably calm despite the chaos marine’s constant glare. She had a penchant for making those around feel safe and comfortable. Most people, Erriox thought, with the exception of that irritated chaos marine.

He wasn’t well-versed with all future successor chapters of the original legions as he arrived in Ancient Terra before Horus’ betrayal occurred. To be honest, he still hadn’t quite processed that fully. Nonetheless, he recognized the chaos marine’s armour to be from the Black Legion. His hand itched for his bolter at his waist under the chaos marine’s hard stare made, but luckily or unluckily, they were preoccupied with warming up the youngling. If his Black Legion cousin had such a hard time having them care for his charge, maybe he should doff his own armour and do it himself.

What had even possessed him to let this pair into their home, potentially endangering both of him and Lenora? Granted, the pair were in such dire straits at the time. Any longer out in that freezing weather would have exponentially worsened the youngling’s condition, and at worst, would have resulted in his death. I’ve gone soft, Erriox thought sourly. The slight upside was that the boy was now at least out of danger and the Black Legionnaire had yet to make a move to attack them. Though the Iron Warrior wouldn’t hesitate to use the youngling against his cousin if that came to pass.

Erriox could feel the youngling’s body temperature slowly increase and his heartbeat regulating back to its normal rhythm and strength. The child sighed in comfort as his posture sagged against his body, his breaths slowly evening out as drowsiness set in. He looked at Lenora and she smiled at him appreciatively.

“Thank you.” She murmured to him, giving him a reassuring squeeze on his arm as she pulled up another blanket to cover the boy. Erriox nodded curtly in acknowledgment, sitting straighter, holding the youngling securely against himself.

She patted the teen’s shoulder to wake him up, “Hey Ben, I’m going to get you a heating pad to hang on to and some heated socks. Do you also want some hot chocolate?”

“Please.”

Lenora smiled, “Alright. I’m sure we could all use some.”

She gave Erriox another thankful squeeze on his shoulder before going to get the heating pad and other items to further warm their temporary ward. Only to hear armour clanking and a muffled conversation while she looked for said items. Her brows furrowed with concern, wondering what was going on, though confident that Erriox had a good handle on that situation.

Malaran Blackspike closely observed the interaction between the Iron Warrior and his human tending to his own charge. He glared at them. How dare that Iron Warrior chastise him, short of calling him a coward, for not wanting to disarm himself in case of potential attackers. He didn’t know half of what they went through! And as if he trusted them!

Then he had the audacity to grab his youngling right out of his hands? Malaran’s fists were balled tight, holding himself back from drawing his weapon right there to fight the Iron Warrior. He knew they were trying to help his youngling, but he resented his lack of control and knowledge of the situation. They’re not here to steal his boy away like all the others, he had to remind himself.

To be fair, Malaran didn’t even understand why or how he got so attached to this youngling. Ben. Ben was this child’s name. As soon as he saw him, some wall in him broke. Some instinct in himself screamed to protect this boy. He must protect his child.

He couldn’t explain it. Perhaps they were kindred spirits, both as lost in this world as the other. Ben had been wandering, lost and confused, when he first found him after all. The boy was lucky that he found him first, rather than his less than human-friendly brethren. Though it felt like a constant struggle from the very start. First, fighting off and escaping his brethren, then coming to blows with the family’s Black Templar before finally escaping with his charge in tow, then fighting through and narrowly escaping a roaming group of ‘ferals’ that tried ambushing them one night.

He should’ve left his charge back at his family’s home. Ben would’ve been unhappy, yes, but he was safe there. Yet here they are, seeking sanctuary in a strange woman’s house after being found by some Iron Warrior. He counted himself lucky, though his pride would not let him admit it out loud. Ben was freezing to death and he was faced with an enemy he could not fight. He did not know where to go, where he could find sufficient shelter for him and his bonded little one. A strange kind of anxiety writhed in his gut.

This was all confusing and contradictory! A part of him felt a sliver of disgust watching how intimately and familiar they all interacted with each other, yet another part of himself warred with that thought. He should also be in that picture. He should be the one taking care of his young charge. Why wasn’t he the one warming him? He should get his youngling back.

“Iron Warrior, give me back the boy.” Malaran demanded.

“Why?”

“I will tend to him. He is my bonded human after all.”

Erriox eyed him with indifference, still cradling Ben who now dozed off against him, “Take your armour off. Your child still requires warmth.”

Malaran grumbled with frustration at being told what to do, but nonetheless started to remove his armour. He was not going to let this iron canid steal his youngling away so quickly after all they went through. The helmet dropped with a resounding clank (Lenora winced when she heard that. That one’s going to dent her floor.), followed by his gauntlets, and various pieces of his armour until his upper torso was devoid of it. “There. Now return my boy to me.” He demanded.

Erriox gently pushed up the sleepy teen, who groaned in complaint, “Ben. Wake up. Go back to… my cousin.” He turned to Malaran, “What is your name?”

“It is not your business to know.” The chaos warrior sneered, now seated on the couch, hastily bundling Ben into himself like a broody hen.

Erriox snorted derisively, “It matters not to me. Does your bonded even know your name?”

Malaran growled, “I was gifted my name from the boy. You know nothing of the trials we went through.”

“Yes, and you know nothing of us either. Yet here we are, saving your bonded from freezing to death. I am asking for your name, not your secrets. Unless you prefer I make up a name for you.” Erriox replied with a sarcasm-laced sneer. Frankly, he was getting sick of this Black Legionnaire’s belligerent attitude.

Reluctantly, Malaran grumbled out his name.

Lenora came back to the sight of both the Black Legionnaire and her Iron Warrior, each returned to sitting on a couch, each stewing in their own feelings. The coffee table was back in its original place. Ben, all bundled and tucked under the chaos space marine’s chin.

She turned to Erriox in question; his only answer was a shrug and, “He wanted his boy back.”

Perhaps it was best for Ben to be with his chaos Astartes; he certainly cares for Ben very fiercely, Lenora thought. She plugged the heating pad to an extension cord, immediately feeling heat emanating from the pad. She set the power to “low” before handing it along with the pair of her heated socks to Ben, pointedly ignoring the tensing muscles in the chaos marine’s arms.

“It’s to help you keep warm. But if you feel it’s getting too hot, feel free to turn it off and put it aside.” She advised the teen. Ben accepted the heating pad and put on the socks with some finangling, being slightly hindered by his chaos space marine. Lenora looked at the pair with quiet approval before turning to get the hot chocolate ready. Erriox stood up, “Do you need assistance?”

She looked to her bonded, “I could use the company.”

The Iron Warrior went to his human’s side, pulling out the canister of hot chocolate powder while she filled the kettle.

“How far do you want to aid them?” He asked quietly as they waited for the water to boil.

Lenora sighed, looking out into the winter landscape, “Enough so we can find out what’s going on and be able to send them to where they can get more help.” She murmured back, her brows furrowed in worry, “But I am afraid this is either a kidnapping and I’m missing the signs or this is something more complicated.”

She then let out a short huff with a grin of resignation, “I suppose we'll cross that bridge when we get there.”

Erriox laid his hand against the small of her back and assured her with a wry grin of his own, “We’ll see this to the end together.” She smiled back.

As they waited, Lenora leaned into his side; something she did out of habit when they cooked together, but right now needing his presence to ground herself from the stressful atmosphere. Erriox automatically pulled her in securely against himself, his arm wrapped protectively around her. Malaran did not miss that gesture.

It didn’t take long before Lenora and Erriox were back with steaming mugs of hot chocolate. The chaos space marine growled at her as she made to pass a mug to Ben. She shot him an annoyed look, finally fed up with his suspicions, “Why would I kill Ben after all the effort to save him? That is stupid!” She said in frustration.

The marine was gob-smacked, her little statement in gothic catching him off-guard. Ben looked at her in awe. Erriox tensed, ready to leap to her defence should the Black Legionnaire decide to take action. Lenora only sighed and turned to Ben, “Sorry bud, I will leave the hot chocolate on the coffee table for you two to take it, ok? The last thing I need is for hot chocolate to spill on you.”

A loud, threatening growl erupted from the chaos marine’s chest, his suspicions at an all time high. How dare they hide the fact that she knew Gothic! Was she a spy? Why wasn’t the Iron Warrior concerned?

“How much did you understand?!”

Lenora glared back, not backing down, “Enough to know you were unhappy to take off your armour.”

“Are you calling me a coward?!” Malaran tensed, about to roll Ben off of him to get up from the couch.

Lenora was alarmed by his remark, “What are—? No!”

Erriox immediately pulled her back to his side on the other couch, putting himself between the Black Legionnaire and his bonded once more, “Think carefully about your next actions, cousin.” he growled lowly, threat and promise carried in his voice.

“Stop! Orca! Stop!” Ben pleaded, clutching to him tightly, “Please!”

Thankfully, the chaos marine backed down at his bonded child’s request.

Lenora turned to the boy, “Orca? Did you give him that name?” She knew the chaos space marine definitely had another name.

“Yeah! You should see how awesome and strong he is! He fought off all those other space marines all by himself!” Whether or not those other space marines were trying to rescue Ben or hurt him remained the question, Lenora wondered. It would be concerning if “Orca” had kidnapped Ben from his family though.

“I see…” Lenora decided to change the subject, if only to dissipate some of the tension in the room, “Are you a fan of marine documentaries?”

“Yeah! They are the best!” Ben perked up, glad that there was finally a topic he could talk about.

Lenora smiled kindly, “Orca is a good name. Don’t they hunt in family pods though?” she asked

The teen nodded, “They normally do, but there’s some orcas that can kill a great white shark all on their own!”

Malaran looked on with confusion upon hearing his given name while his bonded youngling animatedly chatted with the Iron Warrior’s human. He turned to the other Astartes, “What are they talking about?”

“Sea creatures and the merit of your given name. She said your boy gave you a good name.”

Malaran snorted, but he was satisfied. Of course his bonded would give him a good name! And name him after some sort of sea creature. He remembered seeing the few books that Ben had, contained pictures of water beasts, though he couldn’t understand anything of what was written. He felt the boy reach out for the drinks on the table. He crooned with concern and held Ben back.

Erriox sighed, “Let your boy have the drink. It is not poisoned if that is what you are concerned with. He needs to replenish his fluids.”

The Black Legionnaire relented and loosened his grip. Ben leaned forward and grabbed both mugs, passing one to him with a big smile, “Here! You should have one too.”

A warm feeling grew in his chest, similar to when Ben first led him home and gave him his name; remembering how the child tried to stuff him in his closet to hide him from his paternal parental figure. Malaran chuckled at the memory and looked at Ben fondly before taking the offered mug and patted his head. Ben giggled before snuggling back against his body again. The wall in him broke open further, letting the warmth strengthen his bond with his youngling. Watching Ben drink his hot chocolate, he decided to take a sip as well. It was sweet, with a hint of bitterness. Malaran decided that he liked this drink.

Lenora watched the pair with fondness as both her and Erriox drank their share. She let out a quiet sigh of relief and leaned into her Astartes. Erriox glanced at her in question, she smiled at him and squeezed his hand, “Thank you for taking them in. You did good.” She murmured.

His gaze softened as he squeezed her hand in return, “You’re welcome.”

“Miss…?” Ben’s unsure voice cut through the lull.

“Lenora is fine, no need for the ‘Miss’.” Lenora responded kindly, “You have a question?”

“Yeah, you asked if Orca was the name I gave him. Does that mean he has his own name too? Can he tell me his name?” The teen asked.

Lenora looked at the chaos space marine, “You’re bonded wants to know your name. Do you want to let him know?”

The Black Legionnaire mulled it over for a moment then patted Ben’s shoulder, getting his attention, “I am Malaran, but I want you to call me Orca. You gifted me a good name.” He‘d rather his youngling call him by his given name; outside of being quite attached to that name, it was also for Ben’s own safety, in case anyone else recognized it.

“Ben, his name is Malaran, but he prefers to be called Orca.” Lenora translated for the boy.

The teen perked up, “He likes my name?”

Lenora smiled, “He sure does.”

“Can you teach me to say something in Orca’s language?”

“Sure, go ahead.”

Ben looked at his guardian briefly before looking back at Lenora and Erriox. “Thank you for staying with me. You are awesome. I want to be strong like you one day.”

Erriox chuckled, surely this will no doubt inflate the chaos marine’s ego. He put his hand on Lenora's leg signalling that he would take over, “Ben, repeat after me. Orca, thank you for staying with me. You are amazing. I want to be strong like you.”

Malaran hearts nearly burst when he heard that. Ben’s pronunciation was a bit off, but the meaning behind it was there, with truth and sincerity. This was definitely his youngling, his bond made the right choice. He will protect and cherish this one for as long as he lives, regardless of who or what gets in the way. His purr grew to a loud rumble as Ben laughed when he hugged him and ruffled his hair. Their heartfelt moment was unfortunately cut short when Erriox asked his Black Legion cousin, “How did you end up here?”

#warhammer 40k #space marine husbandry #space marine husbandry sentience #oc: erriox #oc: lenora #oc: ben #oc: malaran blackspike #iron warriors #black legion

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ahedderick · 6 months ago

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Outpatient

Ok, hmm, I have 3 - 5 brains cells back to work. This has been a strange day.

When I went into the surgery center, the person leading me down the hallway introduced herself; "Hi, I'm Kelly, I'll be with you the whole time you're here."

Honestly, between a lifetime of farm veterinary emergencies and the whole Childbearing Thing, I am pretty darned nonchalant about medical care. I'm not worried. But it's sweet when someone tries to make me feel 'better'. I just roll with it. It's the thought that counts.

She got me settled in a dentist's chair and started all the minutia of prep; the sticky electrodes on my arms, the blood pressure cuff, the little finger-clamp-thingee. She gave me a small cup of versed, explaining that it would calm me down. Not necessary, my learnéd friend, Kelly, but I'll take it. Gimmee.

Then we had to do the little "why are you even here" dance. Apparently, Mandibular tori are often small and not an issue. Often. Not always. When they turn into big honkin' chunks of bone that interfere with eating or hygiene, then they have to go. And every dratblasted dental person I mentioned them to always tried to tell me they're not an issue! Until they look in my actual mouth and say. OH. Uh. Yeah, that's an issue. Grrr.

Next she hooked a nasal cannula over my face for nitrous oxide. That I have never had before, that I can remember, and I was curious if it would make me giddy or giggly. It did not. My head got very quiet inside, though. I was enjoying that, but my silence made the nurses nervous, and they kept asking if I was ok. I was ok. Just suuuuper quiet. And enjoying it.

The surgeon entered the room and he and the nurses did an interesting little call-and-response routine to ensure that I am the correct patient getting the correct surgery on the correct side of the body. Then the IV medi c i n ooooooooOOOPsie - waking up time!

I have never before had so MUCH novocaine that my mouth was still numb 8 hours later. Not complaining; I'm sure I don't want to know what it feels like in there with a chunk of bone cut out. Very odd, though.

#medical #dental #dental health #surgery

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falcemartello · 11 months ago

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Traduzione: cari PoVeVy, dovete MoViVe!

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serotoninswitch · 4 months ago

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Alrighty then, bet

If cash wasn't an issue, what's your dream porn scene you'd want to shoot with your polycule?

-medie

Blasphemy-kink demonic incursion in a convent orgy scene.

The super loose synopsis would be some witches are captured by an inquisition, unsuccessfully interrogated, one of then seduces/tricks someone into bringing them some reagents for a spell, they cast it, summon demons that corrupt and take over the inquisitor convent, then they lead everyone in a big blasphemous orgy where everyone indulges in the kinks they enjoy most. Then the head Demon pontificates about the nature of sin and stigma and how the church is actually the true monster. The end.

So ultimately, the things I'd want to spend the most money on would be A. Costuming and B. A good set. C. Transportation for "actors". Like yeah I'd probably shell out for some fun toys I don't already have, but I'd want to go hogwild on costumes, including contracting a very skilled makeup team to help the demon actors get prosthetic level monster movie makeup to look as awesome and inhuman as they want. I also have a play partner who's super discerning about her blasphemy kink, so I'd probably shell out for an authentic antique nun habit for her. And quality historically-accurate-movie level outfits for everyone who wants to be either a witch, heritic, or member of the convent/inquisition. And of course, high-quality sexy looking masks for people (like myself) who can't have their faces in porn. I actually have my eye on the mask I want irl, it just hasn't been feasible to purchase it yet.

Secondly would be the set, yes I want it to look cool and authentic but what I really want is to rent a space big enough to do a multi-day shoot/orgy/playparty/hang out with all the members of my polycule, all my play partners, and my mutuals who want to fuck me but who live too far away. At least those who are interested.

So yeah, my ideal porn shoot if I had all the funding in the world would be a thinly veiled excuse for me to indulge in my blasphemy kink, my monster fucking kink, my alignment with being a lust Demon, and an excuse to get a bunch of people I care about together for a big orgy/hangout.

And I've been gangbanged and been part of a gangbang so I know for a fact I actually enjoy this level of group play.

#asked and answered

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alyaalfita · 2 months ago

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Kantong Mata Tak Hanya Masalah Penampilan! Ini Penyebab dan Solusi Tepatnya

Beberapa hal, seperti kurang tidur, penumpukan cairan, penuaan, dan gaya hidup yang tidak sehat, dapat menyebabkan kantung mata. Seiring bertambahnya usia, jaringan dan otot yang menopang kelopak mata melemah. Akibatnya, lemak berpindah ke area bawah mata dan membentuk kantong. Kurang tidur juga menyebabkan pembuluh darah di bawah mata melebar, yang membuat kantung mata dan lingkaran hitam terlihat lebih jelas.

Ada beberapa metode alami yang dapat digunakan untuk menghilangkan kantung mata. Salah satunya adalah kompres dingin, yang dapat membantu mengurangi pembengkakan. Anda bisa menggunakan kain basah yang dingin atau bahan alami seperti kantong teh dingin dan irisan mentimun, yang memiliki antioksidan untuk mengurangi peradangan.

Beberapa makanan yang mengandung banyak kalium, seperti kacang-kacangan, pisang, yogurt, dan sayuran hijau, juga dapat membantu mengurangi bengkak di bawah mata. Selain itu, tidur dengan kepala yang lebih tinggi dapat membantu mengurangi penumpukan cairan di sekitar mata.

Penggunaan pelembab dan krim mata secara teratur dapat membantu mengurangi lingkaran hitam dan mata panda, meskipun Anda tidak langsung melihat hasilnya. Pilih pelembap atau krim mata yang mengandung kafein, retinol atau retinoid, vitamin C, kamomil, dan antioksidan.

Jika kantung mata disebabkan oleh alergi atau iritasi, menghindari pemicu alergi dan menggunakan obat anti alergi dapat membantu mengurangi munculnya kantung mata. Selain itu, menjaga pola hidup sehat dengan tidur cukup, minum cukup air, dan mengurangi konsumsi garam.

Jika metode alami ini tidak cukup, ada beberapa prosedur medis seperti penggunaan filler atau blepharoplasty (operasi kelopak mata) yang dapat menjadi solusi untuk menghilangkan kantung mata, terutama yang disebabkan oleh faktor genetik atau penuaan.

#skincare tips #kantungmata #penampilan #solusi #beauty #healty #food

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tmrwdysr · 2 months ago

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Eps 1 (Larangan Mengonsumsi Timun Saat Haid)

Larangan ini merupakan MITOS. Secara medis timun tetap aman untuk kita konsumsi saat haid. Hal itu dikarenakan kandungan air pada mentimun yang dapat mencukupi kebutuhan cairan tubuh dan mencegah dehidrasi. Makan mentimun tidak terbukti membuat darah haid tersisa di dinding rahim dan getahnya pun tidak akan sampai pada rahim. Mentimun merupakan sayuran yang kaya akan nilai gizi. Mentimun mengandung potasium, serat dan vitamin C dan secara alami rendah kalori, karbohidrat, natrium, lemak dan kolesterol. Selain itu, mentimun mengandung 95% air yang menjadikannya bagian ideal dari diet sehat. Hal ini justru membuat mentimun sangat bagus untuk mengatasi masalah kulit yang menyertai menstruasi.

#food #healthy eating #healthy food

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handspunyarns · 1 year ago

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You Were Marked: Days Sixteen to Nineteen, Part I

pairing: din djarin x fem!O/C

word count: 4.4K

chapter summary: Fennec feels worn out, Din feels hungover, and Marathel doesn’t know how to feel

warnings:  fluff, angst, mention of blood and injury, rape aftermath, English and Mando’a cursing

***Please feel free to comment, kvetch, or otherwise speak your mind about my work. ***   

You Were Marked: Masterlist

<- You Were Marked: Previous Chapter

Fennec was very, very tired. She hadn’t had a full night’s sleep since meeting this Marathel woman, who currently lay tranquilized on the cot before her. Marathel, who tried so hard to make herself as unobtrusive as possible, had instead sent the palace into an uproar. The silver-haired woman collected champions everywhere she went. Silnima was ready to adopt her as well as make her chief baker, if Marathel wished. Din Djarin was obviously completely in the most stupid variety of love with her, and right behind the Mandalorian, Cobb Vanth was hurriedly catching up in the adoration race. Boba had admitted to her that even he found her charming, and he was ready to jump into any fray to protect her, like an old mobster uncle would protect his favorite niece.

It might have been more amusing if Marathel was actually manipulative. Marathel was not. She was in fact so simple she was straight. She had no guile, no artifice whatsoever. Cobb had mentioned to Fennec that he thought of her as a full-grown child who had dropped from the sky, an apt description if there ever was one. Everything was black and white in Marathel’s world. She had a child’s sensibility, a child’s gullibility, almost to the point where Fennec wondered if the woman even had object permanence.

Fennec had just witnessed another emotional breakdown from Marathel, the reasons for which were still unknown to Fennec. Marathel had been lying quietly, appearing to be deep in thought, before she suddenly began to weep, and had become hysterical enough to require intervention from the medi-droid. Obviously — at least to Fennec — it was all somehow the Mandalorian’s fault. The fact that Din had both cleared the room and turned the lights off led Fennec to believe that he had: one, removed his helmet, and two, most likely kissed her, and three, probably told her he loved her. Both apparently had trouble with complex emotions, but at least Din should know better than to run in, declare his love like a soldier heading off to war, and run out as if a Hoth blizzard were approaching. At least give the woman a chance to reply, thought Fennec. After Din had left — having given her a handful of the Aurodium coins — Fennec had turned the lights back on in the med-bay to see a flushed and bewildered Marathel, sitting up on her elbow, her hand to her mouth, and tears in her eyes as the sounds of Grogu screaming “MAMA!” reverberated through the ship.

Then the ship began take-off, which shifted Marathel from bewilderment to panic until the ship ceased quaking and began to fly smoothly. Marathel had then commented that the persistent engine noise was somehow soothing to her, and she began to relax enough to rest.

It was shortly after this that Marathel’s latest crying jag occurred, and Fennec was nearly out of patience. After Marathel was tranquilized, Fennec left the med-bay in search of the Modifier, who was in the cockpit with the pilot. The pilot looked like the average mercenary: faceless, nameless, and uninterested in the cargo.

“Is the commotion all over?” asked the Modifier.

“It’s never over with that woman,” mumbled Fennec.

“Something new offended her delicate sensibilities?” Fennec sighed, and reminded herself that Marathel was doing her level best to cope. Then the Modifier asked, “Did the Mandalorian provide payment?” Fennec flicked her eyes to the back of the pilot’s head. The Modifier nodded. Some things were never discussed in front of a mercenary, regardless of how inconspicuous they were.

Din awoke in Marathel’s bed alone, curled up on his side, his mouth feeling as if he’d chewed on a Jawa all night. His nose was stuffed up, his neck was sore, and although his visor kept out the blinding light of the two suns, his eye sockets were throbbing with the dehydration headache. He felt around him, looking for Grogu, for Cobb, or even the Jawa he believed he was chewing on. But he was alone, and the door to Marathel’s room was shut tight. Din scooted over to the edge of the bed to peer at the side table, which held a large, beautiful pitcher of glorious looking water, several hydration powder packets, and a glass.

Silently thanking Silnima, Cobb, Frith, whomever had left him this morning-after gift, Din drank the entire pitcher along with all the hydration powder, took a runner-beast-sized piss, and had a quick hot shower to cook out the remainder of the booze from his pores.

Feeling human again, he straightened up Marathel’s bed, smoothing the sheet over her pillow. He sat in her padded chair to pull on his boots when he noticed items on her large treatment table that had not been there yesterday: a large, waxed bag that looked as if it contained sweets, three large hanks of yarn, a big ball of near-white fluffy wool, knitting needles, and two jars of dark honey. Set off to one side of these items was a new pair of shoes. The shoes were an ankle-high slip-on style in a deep grey leather, flat-heeled, simple, and very appropriate for someone like Marathel. There was a tiny scuff on the outside of one of the shoes, a few grains of sand on the inside of the other. Din had a fleeting desire to smell the inside of her shoe. That’s weird, right? Yeah, that’s just weird. I’m still drunk. Din stood, making sure his bandolier was properly buckled, and his blasters were properly positioned on his hips. He lifted his helmet and held it above his head to put it on when his eyes fell on Marathel’s shoes again. He dropped his helmet into one arm, grabbed Marathel’s left shoe and took a deep whiff.

Well, that was disappointing. All he could smell was new leather. With a laugh, Din put down her shoe, wondering if he would have preferred her feet to smell badly or not. He put on his helmet and opened the door. Cobb was leaning against the opposite wall, drinking from a mug of caf.

“How are you feeling, friend?” asked Cobb.

“Better now. Thank you for the water.”

“That wasn’t me,” said Cobb with a shrug. “I just supplied the hydration packets.”

Din looked up and down the corridor. “Where’s Grogu?”

“With the other palace kids.”

“How did he seem?”

Cobb shrugged again. “Subdued.” He smiled wryly. “He ended up between us, and we had positioned ourselves like a little fort around him. Our arms made the roof.” He raised his eyes to Din’s visor. “It was quite nice. It felt good. Made me a … little jealous of Marathel.” Cobb went silent for a few moments, and then he took a drink from his caf. “Look, I gotta head back to Freetown. I trust the new deputy only so far, and I really have no reason to hang around if I can’t get my arm worked on.”

Din remained silent. Both men stood still for a while before Din reached out to take Cobb’s arm. Pulling himself close to Cobb, Din whispered, “You’d leave me?”

Cobb’s eyes went wide, but after a moment’s thought, he squinted his eyes and said, “You’re pullin’ my chain.”

“Mostly,” said Din. “I need to go find buyers for the Aurodium, and I need a distraction for Grogu.” Din’s hand went to Cobb’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “Come with us.”

“Uh … no. I’m not stepping off this planet. Jumping around the vacuum of space in a tiny metal box is my personal vision of hell. Not even you can change my mind.” Cobb lifted Din’s hand from his shoulder and held it. “But give me updates on Marathel. And … consider her staying here for a while when she’s better.” Closer to me. “The palace is a controlled environment for her. Out there … I think it’s hard for her to feel safe.” Cobb dropped Din’s hand. “She was scared of a Trandoshan she saw in Mos Espa.”

“She should at least be cautious. They’re assholes.” Din nodded. “You’re right, though. Here at the palace Marathel would have only a limited number of people to contend with. She’d be safe, even if I’m not here. And Silnima can help her have a purpose. Marathel is not one to be idle.”

Cobb grinned. “And she now knows where to buy yarn.”

Under the helmet Din was smiling too. “Thanks to you.” He leaned forward and hugged Cobb, hard.

Cobb squeezed back, and in Din’s ear, he whispered, “Love her.” Din drew back. “What?”

Din shook his head. “That’s what … the Dahl told me. Rodanthe. I figured … I imagined it. That she’d growled and my brain turned it into words. But she hadn’t made a sound.”

Cobb tilted his head. “That was something you mentioned last night.”

“I did?” Din reached under his cuirass and scratched the bite mark; it was suddenly itchy. “I guess it wasn’t a dream after all.”

“You don’t think it’s strange?” asked Cobb. “That this —Rodanthe critter ‘talks’ to you and then the next day Marathel can seemingly control you?”

Din scoffed. “The whole damn thing is strange. A woman can bond with an animal on a biological – chemical – neurological manner to the point where she allegedly loses physical control and goes into a heat cycle? And drags me into it as well?” Din looked up and down the hall. Seeing no one, Din leaned in towards Cobb. “She could barely look at me at first, and the next thing I know, she’s wrapping her legs around me and climbing me like a damn tree.”

“And I’m sure you fought that little wildcat as long as you could,” Cobb said with a smirk, but then he sobered. “You can’t think she’s been manipulating you.”

“I know she’s not telling me everything.” Din scratched the bite wound again. “I know she’s lied to me. I probably … shouldn’t have told her I love her yesterday.”

Cobb rolled his eyes. “Someone’s got morning-after guilt,” he said with a sigh. “Look. You need to fence those coins. She needs to get better. Then you two must seriously talk. And I recommend not starting with, ‘Marry me’. Or whatever it is you Mandalorians do.”

“Oh? What should I start with?”

“I suggest you tell her about the land mine to your sack. That should give you two a lot to talk about.” Cobb shifted sideways. “We should both get going, you know.” The two men clasped each other’s hands, and Cobb began to walk towards the landing tunnel, whistling. After about 5 meters or so, Cobb turned and said, “Man, you didn’t even tell me about the land mine. That’s classic.” Din shot him the finger, and Cobb walked off, laughing.

After Cobb had left, Din heard the pounding of feet and happy shrieks of children coming from the opposite direction. He turned, and a whole passel of kids were running full tilt straight for him; one of the taller girls was carrying Grogu on her shoulders. Upon seeing Din, Grogu squealed and leapt from the girl’s shoulders to Din’s arms, doing a forward flip in mid-air. The other children cheered; the noise went right through Din’s helmet and exploded somewhere behind his hung-over eyeballs. One of the boys yelled, “Let’s get something to eat!”, leading the other kids to run to the kitchen.

Grogu bounced on Din’s arm, chanting, “Mama? Mama? Mama?” while slapping Din’s cuirass with his little hand.

Din took hold of Grogu’s hand, shaking his head. “We haven’t heard anything yet, little guy.”

Grogu scowled and jerked his hand away. “MAMA!”

“I want to know how she is just as much as you do, buddy, but … Mama needs to go far away for a little while. She needs special doctors who can help her. Special … secret doctors.”

Grogu grunted, his face in a deep frown. “See-kit.”

“See-kit, that’s right,” said Din, a flush of pride going through him at Grogu saying another word. That’s my boy. Din held Grogu close, pressing his helmet to the little green fuzzy head. “What say we go fly while we wait?”

“Fy!”

“Wizard. Let’s go.”

Fennec got a message from the medi-droid that Marathel was waking up. She got into the room just in time to see Marathel roll to her side, rubbing her eyes. Fennec sat back down on the stool next to the cot. “Doing better?” Marathel still looked distressed, but she nodded. “Can you tell me what upset you so much?”

Marathel swallowed and closed her eyes. “He lied to me. The Bounty Hunter.”

We’re back to calling him Bounty Hunter. Dank ferrik. “What did he lie to you about?”

“The Bounty Hunter still had the coins. He was … he was supposed to give them to his covert, but he still had them!”

Fennec sighed inwardly. “He gave me some of the coins to pay for your treatment, wherever it is we’re going.”

“But he’s not supposed to still have them! Why would he lie to me about what he was going to do? “

Maker, save me. “Marathel … please consider that there is a perfectly logical explanation.”

Marathel sniffled. “Like what?”

“Perhaps the covert wouldn’t accept them. Those coins are … very old, and they don’t exactly work as money anymore. Perhaps Din needs to find a buyer for the coins so he can exchange them for usable money.”

“Then why give them to you?”

“Well, it’s not as if we had a lot of time to figure things out. We needed cash in hand for whomever these Reconstructionists are. Now, please, Marathel, please try to stay calm. Try to not worry about every damn thing so much!”

Marathel colored and looked away. “I’m sorry,” she said, barely above a whisper.

“Don’t be sorry. Be calm. Be quiet, and we will all get through this,” hissed Fennec, near the end of her own rope.

Marathel took a shaky breath. “Yes, Fennec,” she said in such a conciliatory tone Fennec felt bad for snapping at her. Fennec dropped her face into her hands for a while, upset herself. Now she had these damned coins to deal with. Either this Bishop was completely daft, or the men on that planet had no clue what those coins were worth. When Boba had first shown them to her, Fennec insisted they first count them, just so she could feel the gold in her hands, and then they spread out the coins on the bed and … well, rolled around on them a while. They had quite a time locating all the coins after that.

Fennec still had no idea where they were going — the Modifier was being very tight-lipped about that — but she needed something to go on in case she needed to find buyers for the coins herself, and she was already nervous about this whole escapade going sideways.

Fennec looked up at Marathel, who had been quiet for some time now. Marathel’s face was as blank as fresh quarried slate. Her eyes were unfocused, and her breathing was slow, her head slightly tilted to one side, her lips slightly parted. The slack look on her face put Fennec in the mind of someone who was mentally challenged, or in a fugue state. Fennec shook Marathel’s arm. “Marathel? Are you all right?”

Marathel’s pupils constricted, and she blinked. “I’m fine, I’m fine, I was just … being still.”

“That’s what you mean by be still? You just… check out and go into a near-trance?”

“Yes, it … it quiets the mind when they… make you do things to them.”

“Make you do things to whom, Marathel?”

Marathel took a shaky breath. “The Elders … the Bishop, of course.”

Fennec felt uneasy. “Even before you left the Hold?”

“Ever since I can remember,” said Marathel, matter-of-factly. Fennec nodded. She thought so, but it was still painful for her to have it confirmed. No wonder Marathel was so wounded. The poor woman’s never had a damn chance. Fennec was wracked with guilt for her unkind thoughts about the silver-haired woman. “Fennec? Don’t pity me.”

Fennec nodded again, and angrily swiped her knuckles under her eyes. “I should check your wounds.”

“Fennec ...” said Marathel, reaching for her hand. “My wounds are not getting worse, nor will they get better with anything you can do. Just … sit with me, please.” Fennec held Marathel’s hand, and in her eyes, Fennec could only see a kind of … sad tranquility that spoke of defeat. “Tell me again what I’m to say if they question me.”

“You’re to say that you managed to escape from a Red Room; that you don’t know where you are, or how you got there.”

“Yes, a Red Room. I couldn’t remember. I was thinking Dark Room. What is a Red Room?”

“I don’t think you need to know that, Marathel.”

“I think I should know … I should know about what lies I need to tell.”

Fennec sighed. “A Red Room is where … people pay to watch and/or participate in the torture and killing of … another person.”

Marathel furrowed her brow. “Why in the name of Frith do things like that exist?”

“It’s a sick, sad, galaxy. I’d like to say it’s gotten better recently, but … not really.”

“Is a Red Room always red? Or is it named … because of the blood spilled there?” Marathel sighed. “I suppose that doesn’t matter.” She closed her eyes for a moment. “I miss my little hut. Life was so simple there. Make bread, set traps for food. Weave if I wanted, pick flowers if I wanted, do flat-out nothing if I wanted. Even when … Din and Grogu showed up, it was still such a lovely uncomplicated life. Made them meals, sewed their clothes. Made them bread. I made more bread for those two in that short time than I would ever make for myself in three moon cycles, those greedy guts.” Both women chuckled. “And I got to pretend I had my own family. We had fun, the three of us. I even got to hear Din laugh.”

Fennec pulled a face. “I don’t believe that man knows how to laugh.”

“He did! He laughed at me; that’s why I had to throw eggs at him.” Marathel launched into the story of the morning she wore her yellow dress and ended up in a tree because she had the temerity to scold a Jedi toddler. By the time Marathel was demonstrating where Din’s hands had ended up on her breasts as she dropped down from the lowest branch, Fennec was near howling with laughter. “So, I chucked an egg right at his helmet. Splat!”

“Oh, kriffing hell! Then what?”

“He said that I should be a … oh, what did he say … a storm …?”

“A Stormtrooper?”

“Yes! What is that?”

“A soldier of the most useless variety.”

Marathel frowned. “Should I have been insulted by that?”

“Absolutely you should have.”

Marathel giggled. “Good thing I hit him with another egg and told him to piss up a rope.” Fennec laughed. “I stomped all the way back to my hut; I was that angry. Later, Grogu brought me flowers, and Din brought me my favorite fruit to apologize. No man had ever given me a gift before.” Marathel smiled. “The next day, Din made me breakfast. The man made a meal for me. Never had I considered a man would do such a thing. We weren’t allowed to eat what we made for the men, not even the scraps from their plates. But Din cooked for me.”

Fennec smiled as well. And we’re back to calling him Din. “Men can be different when they’re from other places.”

Marathel was silent for a while.  “I didn’t even know that there were other places until Din told me.  I didn’t believe him.  How was I supposed to understand that a tiny point of light in the sky was another big place like the one I lived on?”

“Well, not all those points of light are planets.  There are also stars.”

“He said that too, but I don’t know what a star is.  I don’t understand half of everything he said to me.  He probably thought I was quite dumb, which is true … I don’t know much.”  Marathel sighed.  “When he asked me to come with him, it terrified me, because I knew I would only be a burden to him.”

“Din asked you to leave your planet with him?”

“Yes … we had been digging clams, even though clams make him sick, but he didn’t tell me that.  I was dancing in the water with Grogu, and Din put his arm around me, held me close …  and said I should go with him and leave the Aurodium behind.”

My, my. “But you said no.”

“What else in Frith was I supposed to say?  I was already ruined, I’m … nothing.  I’m plain, fat, and stupid. Sullied. Filth.” Marathel sobbed, tears running down her face. She rolled over to her side and curled up in despair.  “And I knew I was going to finally die — just sooner than later — but I also knew if I could help him in some way, then … my life could have meant something to someone. Even just for a few days, to a frightening man made of metal and his little green boy. I love Grogu so much, Fennec. And he’s calling me Mama. He shouldn’t be doing that. Not someone like me.” Marathel was weeping again, to her dismay.  She was so tired of weeping but could not stop any more than she could stop her slow loss of blood. Fennec held Marathel’s hand and said nothing. She had heard things like Marathel spoke of before, and no number of words to the contrary would change Marathel’s mind in her current state. Not all fears or hurts or ugly thinking could be slayed with logic.

After some time, when Marathel’s current storm seemed to have passed, Fennec asked, “So, what did Din say to you when he came in here?”

Marathel sniffled and scrubbed her nose with her hand. “Well, he turned off the lights, and then I felt something heavy drop on my lap. It wasn’t until he was kissing me that I realized it was his helmet.”

Fennec gave a small smile. “So, he did kiss you.”

Marathel’s cheeks flushed. “Did you know how heavy those helmets are? I thought he tossed a rock on me.”

Fennec rolled her eyes with a chuckle. “So, he did kiss you.”

Marathel shyly dropped her gaze. “Yes.”

“And what did he say?”

“He said …” Marathel took a breath. “He said, ‘I love you, Marathel, ma’mwsh ha’laa, nothing else matters.’”

“And what does ma’mwsh ha’laa mean again?”

“‘Wounded acorn.’”

Fennec chuckled again. “That’s so adorable it’s almost sickening. What was the kiss like?”

Marathel frowned. “Hard.”

“Excuse me?”

“Hard. He pressed his mouth very hard to mine.” Marathel put her fingers to her own lips; they were almost tingling with the memory. “But I could tell he had a mustache. And I touched his cheek; he had facial hair, and his skin was soft. He had told me his eyes were brown, and I saw his brown hair once, briefly … he was throwing up the clams in the tall grass, and I could just see the top of his head.”

Fennec wasn’t about to tell her she had gotten a glimpse of him without his helmet; it probably would upset her, and Din wasn’t looking his particular best at the time, what with the concussion and the blood everywhere. “Din doesn’t sound like he’s very good at kissing.”

“I wouldn’t know. Kissing is only for Diwhyns and babies where I’m from.” Marathel glanced sideways at Fennec. “I suppose Boba is a good kisser?”

Fennec’s head snapped up. “Excuse me?”

Marathel squeezed Fennec’s hand. “Boba Fett is good to you, isn’t he?”

It was Fennec’s turn to blush. “I didn’t think we were that obvious.”

“Well, I noticed. And if I noticed, I’m sure Cobb did too.” Fennec groaned. “And Silnima knows too, but I don’t think anything gets past that woman.”

“And that’s why she’s such a good Headwoman. She would love it if you’d stay at the palace once you’re well. She has designs on you being her chief baker.”

Marathel curled her lip. “I don’t know if I want to be a kitchen drudge for the rest of my life.”

“No one’s talking about forever, just for right now, for kriff’s sake.” Fennec sighed. “So how do you feel about Din? Do you share his feelings?”

Marathel thought for a while before answering. “I told him that I loved him before I went into the Hold; at least, as much as I knew how to love anyone. I know that I’m grateful for him, grateful that he took me away from there. But … it’s … it’s his Creed I’m having trouble with.”

Fennec frowned. “What do you mean?”

“The day before he took me to the Hold, I asked him if he would take off his helmet, that he could have me if he wished,” — Fennec frowned at this — “but … without the helmet, so that I would have his face as a last memory. He said no, of course. He told me that his affection for me was less than his devotion to his Creed. And I suppose I understood that, but then … he asked if I would sleep next to him, so he could hold me, caress me while he slept. Fondle me. As if I were only a toy. Not a person. Certainly not an equal.” Marathel sighed. “Perhaps he does love me, but … I’m afraid I will always be in the shadow of his Creed. That shadow may be too cold for me to bear.”

“Well, Marathel, that’s certainly a valid thing for you to feel.” Fennec patted her arm. “It seems like you two have much to discuss.”

“I wouldn’t know how to even begin.”

“The truth is usually the best place to start. But … for now I suggest you concentrate on what’s coming up with these Reconstructionists. Okay?” Marathel nodded, then sat up enough to hug Fennec hard. Fennec hugged her back. “It’s going to be okay, Marathel.”

“I hope so.” And she did.

You Were Marked: Next Chapter->

#din djarin #pedrostories #pedro stories #starwarsficnetwork #din djarin angst #mando angst #the mandalorian angst #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x fem oc #mando x fem oc #mando x plus size oc #din djarin x plus size!fem oc

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i-will-just-nyom-bi · 5 months ago

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Val : So... Vox, was it? How did you achieve being an Overlord in such a short time?

Vox : By selling TV services and Social Medi-

Val : And?? You gotta get souls to be an OverLord!

Vox : Ah. Terms and Conditions.

Val : What?

Vox : You heard me. I put the soul contact in them and I believe half of my "underlings" still don't know that I've got their souls.

Val : (remembers how he signed into some social media like Tinder) c-cool-

Vox : Honestly there's also a downside to this: I don't know them either. Maybe I have the Princess of Hell in my grasp, or some old lady. So I've got the least amount of influence out of us. But I may be the strongest.

Vel : Shit I need to use that trick...

Vox : COPYRIGHT BITCH

#the vees #shitpost #hazbin hotel #hell #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin hotel val #hazbin hotel valentino #haabin hotel velvette

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only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are · 2 years ago

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Day 13: Surgery - Medi Whumpy May

Medi Whump May Masterlist

Just a little.. bit... further...' Hero told themselves, clutching their side and drawing in another painful, wheezing breath.

The world was spinning in front of them and their vision was starting to become obscured with small dots.

They could barely see the doors of their base, and had to slam their palms against the doors to keep themselves upright.

"Hey!" They gasped. "Help!"

They blinked, and found themselves on the floor as the sounds of footsteps came rushing towards them.

"Hero, you're injured!"

"Hero, is that you?!"

"Quick, get me a gurney. They're hurt!"

The noise was overwhelming, but a familiar face swam in front of theirs.

"M-medic?"

"Yeah, it's me. We're going to take care of you, okay? Can you tell me what's wrong, where are you hurt?" Medic asked, instantly checking over Hero's body.

"My chest.. can't.. breathe.." Hero panted.

A gurney was pushed up against the wall, and Medic and the rest of the team began to lift Hero onto it. Hero cried out at the movement, tears springing to their eyes.

"It's okay, Hero. You've got a punctured lung, but I can fix it, alright?" Medic said above them as they wheeled the gurney inside the base, heading straight towards the med bay.

The team members helped get Hero to the bay and into the surgical suite, where Medic's assistants took over. They placed Hero on the operating table and began cutting the clothing away from the wound.

Hero whimpered as the open wound was revealed, their chest looking depressed on that side. "That's bad, right?" They whispered.

"I'm not going to lie to you, Hero. It's bad. Lie back for me, okay?" Medic said.

The team of assitants bustled around the operating table. One inserted an IV into Hero's arm, and other handed Medic a mask.

"I need you to breathe this in for me. I'm going to put you to sleep so I can operate. When you wake up, you'll feel a lot better." Medic said.

Hero shook their head and tried to move away, despite the pain burning through their chest. "Don't! Please, don't, I c-"

Medic clapped the mask over Hero's face and held it there, even as Hero thrashed in their grasp.

"Shh.. It's going to be alright, Hero. Just go to sleep." Medic whispered, in a desperate attempt to soothe their patient.

Hero's movements became sluggish, their attempts to free themselves abandoned as their limbs hung limply at their side, and their eyes drifted closed.

When Hero came back to consciousness, they were lying on their back, propped up on pillows in a bed in Med Bay.

They panicked momentarily, seeing the tube coming out of the wound in their side.

"Hey, hey." Medic said. "Leave the chest tube alone, I worked hard to get that in you." They scolded.

Hero sighed. They felt no pain as they used their lungs, which was likely due to the medication running through the IV port in their hand. "Medic.. what- what happened?"

"What happened is you got yourself impaled on something, and then showed up to Base half dead in the doorway." Medic retorted, arms crossed over their chest. "

"I'm sorry." Hero replied softly.

You get your ass back to sleep now. You took a fair beating, and I know the chest tube isn't pleasant to see." Medic's voice was more gentle now. "We'll talk more about this when you feel better."

With that, Hero fell back into a semi-drug induced, uneasy sleep.

@mediwhumpmay

#mediwhumpmay #medicalwhump #medical whump #whump community #whumblr

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generalevannacci · 7 months ago

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Altro giro, altro buco nell’acqua per la premier italiana, Giorgia Meloni, che da quando si è insediata a Palazzo Chigi ha deciso di dover diventare la trascinatrice di un’Europa (o meglio di un globo terracqueo) neghittosa verso il tema dell’immigrazione.

Dopo essersi trascinata al seguito la frastornata Ursula Von der Leyen, bisognosa di voti per una rielezione alla guida della Commissione Ue che pare sempre più a rischio, ieri Meloni è tornata in solitaria dall’autocrate tunisino Kaïs Saïed con un nuovo cesto di caramelle e dolciumi, solo per sentirsi rispondere che i dolci non piacciono al rais della sponda sud.

Sotterrati dall’indifferenza degli interlocutori, reali e immaginari, gli italiani hanno cambiato registro, avviando le scampagnate tunisine con Frau Ursula e altri premier europei a caso. Dopo varie promesse di aiuti comunitari, ahinoi sempre con robuste condizionalità, almeno viste dal versante di Saïed, ora Meloni torna da sola, e oltre alla faccia ci mette un po’ di soldi, rigorosamente italiani, con la promessa di fare lobbying pro Tunisi per far sbloccare gli agognati 900 milioni europei.

Meloni porta dunque a Tunisi 50 milioni per favorire gli investimenti nelle rinnovabili e altri 50 per finanziare linee di credito delle piccole e medie imprese tunisine, oltre a un non meglio definito “accordo quadro per la cooperazione su università e ricerca”, annunciando che a breve arriveranno quelli su Difesa e Cultura. Rigorosamente “su un piano paritario, non predatorio né paternalistico”, come recita il jingle.

In questa vibrante cooperazione, la richiesta minimale italiana a Tunisi resta quella di frenare l’immigrazione. Allo stato, pare del tutto improbabile che il sogno meloniano di creare in Tunisia un hotspot di filtro degli accessi verso l’Europa possa realizzarsi. Non diciamo “sul modello di quello albanese” perché quest’ultimo non è chiaro cosa sia esattamente, mentre i suoi costi diverranno sempre più chiari col passare dei mesi.

ADDIO SOGNI DI HOTSPOT

A questo riguardo, alcune ore dopo la partenza di Meloni da Tunisi alla volta di Bruxelles, Saïed ha fatto emettere una nota ufficiale per ribadire che la Tunisia non ha alcuna intenzione di essere “destinazione o punto di partenza per immigrati irregolari”, quindi addio alla bolla di sapone di realizzare un hotspot. Ma Saïed ha anche espresso evidente insoddisfazione verso gli europei, che non battono colpi sulla “adozione di un approccio collettivo al tema dell’immigrazione e della lotta contro la tratta di esseri umani”, malgrado “i grandi sforzi fatti per prendersi cura dei migranti” da parte di Tunisi.

Che tradotto significa che i soldi europei non si sono visti, che gli europei medesimi possono comunque scordarsi le loro bizzarre condizioni di erogazione del denaro ma che, malgrado questa evidente mancanza di buona volontà europea, Tunisi è impegnata con le sue sole forze a espellere verso il deserto migranti subsahariani e sudanesi, fatti oggetto di campagne di razzismo presso la popolazione locale, incolpandoli della situazione economica del paese. Ma è chiaro che i mezzi tunisini sono limitati, e quindi può accadere che parte di queste persone destinate all’espulsione verso il deserto partano alla volta dell’Italia. Sigh.

Le missioni tunisine di Meloni hanno prodotto soprattutto un geniale format di comunicazione: le conferenze stampa senza giornalisti. Anche ieri è andata in onda la messa in scena, con tanto di podio e la statista che parla, preceduta da uno stentoreo “buonasera”, con tanto di sguardo panoramico e avvolgente verso l’uditorio immaginario.

So quello che state per obiettare: “ma tu davvero pensi sia possibile, per la sola Italia, raddrizzare situazioni del genere?”. Ovvio che non lo penso. Quello che tento di farvi capire sono essenzialmente due cose: che il cosiddetto Piano Mattei altro non è che il reimpacchettamento mediatizzato e propagandistico di fondi per la cooperazione che ogni governo occidentale usa da decenni; e poi, che questa scatola vuota ma incartata con nastro luccicante viene usata a fini interni per permettere di affermare che “Meloni cambia verso all’Europa”. Perché lo ha detto anche “la prestigiosa rivista Time”, che Giorgia è tra le cento persone più influenti al mondo, mica pizza e fichi.

MISSIONE IN SAHEL

Dopo di che, affidiamoci a realismo e cinismo, incluso quello che porta gli occidentali a chiedere udienza alle giunte golpiste africane centro-occidentali di Niger, Mali e Burkina Faso, appoggiate da russi e cinesi. Sono atti necessari per limitare danni profondi, dopo la cacciata dei gendarmi francesi e con ogni probabilità anche quella degli americani dalla regione.

E infatti l’Italia vi partecipa, per provare a presidiare un corridoio di transito migratorio che rischia di avere conseguenze devastanti per l’Europa. Ad esempio, pare che le nostre truppe, uniche occidentali, riprenderanno la collaborazione e l’addestramento con i soldati nigerini. Per un motivo banale: che gli altri occidentali resteranno fermi parecchi giri, visti i pregressi. Poi, possiamo anche dirci che lo facciamo perché la giunta golpista ha promesso che, prima o poi, tornerà nelle caserme e la democrazia di rito subsahariano tornerà a fiorire. Manca uno straccio di roadmap ma chi siam noi per essere diffidenti, dopo tutto? Forse è questo, l’unico vero Piano Mattei. Ce lo faremo bastare, in caso.

Non siamo educande, quindi, ma sporchi realisti. Solo, per quanto possiamo sforzarci, ci risulta sempre più difficile berci la propaganda di colei che voleva i blocchi navali, sui quali è stata ovviamente fraintesa.

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