#he keeps the altered teeth so his mouth looks like that because thats how his skin fits around em

[skunkes]

who is / whats the story with mateo? he looks wicked cool

not much, he was meant to be a sort of antag to one of my main 4 ocs I had in high school, but those ocs also didn't have much of a plot. he was the demon counterpart to my angel oc

he was sort of a proto talon in that i really wanted to make Guy Who Sucks oc after already failing once (with al) and then i failed again because, well, its very easy to want to make a guy who sucks not suck anymore.

demon, meant to interfere with angel's angelness. has worm tongue/worm inside his body. can stretch his neck out (body horror warning i suppose) for more worm antics. uses the worm to drain you of your essence via stomach. can speak thru the worm. maybe he IS the worm. scorpion tail. enjoys humans ! has a "human" form, eventually chooses to just hide out on earth forever as a very strange human

[babybluebex]

Now a real question

What kind of kinks Daniel's characters would have?

oh boy THIS is a pandora’s box

hmm i guess i’ll go down my list of my favs of The Danny Bunch™ lmao

alex kerner (goodbye lenin) has a thing for smoking. he likes to watch you smoke, and he HAS to smoke after sex. god forbid you go to a party with him and someone passes you a joint, because homie is Erect Instantly. he also likes for you to be on top, so most of your fucks are like he’s on the couch and just looking up at you. i also feel like he has a thing for, like, your hips, and he’ll always grab at them/bite them. there’s been more than one occasion where he’s left teeth marks on your hip. he likes to eat you out. he likes the way your thighs quiver around his head when you’re close. he loves to have you suck him off too, and his favorite is when you choke and gag on his cock and his precum dribbles down your chin. just the thought of THAT alone is enough to get him off.

andrea marowski (ladies in lavender) is a sub, so THATS something we have to talk about. this boy is a sub and a bottom, and he has the worst mommy/daddy kink ever. he just wants to be good for his partner and hear how he’s such a good boy. praise kink. praise kink AS HELL. if he EVER has to dom/top, he is a service top. if his partner has breasts, boy he is ALL OVER THEM. he likes to hold your tits and roll your nipple between his fingers, he likes to rest his head on them when cuddling, and man oh man he is forever on a quest to have a titty in his mouth. he also likes for you to be on top, and he’s sucking your tits the entire time (my breastfeeding kink goes brrr). baby man. that’s all.

niki lauda (rush)... where do i start with this guy. maybe it’s not so much a kink, but he’s into quick fucks. right before/after a race, he’ll shove his partner against a wall and just Go To Town. i also feel like he likes bareback/creampie, but not breeding. he just wants to own his partner. degradation as hell— “god, you’re such a whore on your knees like this, bet you wanna suck off every racer here, huh?” and i touched on this earlier but it bears repeating: he Can and Will take pictures of you and keep them in his wallet/pocket/sun visor, anywhere he can possibly have them. just a picture of his fist in your hair and you can sorta see his cock buried in you in the corner of the picture, and if someone sees the polaroid, he’s just Proud. i also feel like he likes to overstimulate you, so he’ll fuck you until you’re so close that you can taste it, and he’ll pull out and do whatever the fuck. and teasing AS HELL. “if i place first, i’ll come back and fuck you stupid, how does that sound?”

laszlo kreizler (the alienist), like niki, is into quick fucks. like, pushing your skirt up and just fucking you hard and fast, then returning to work like nothing ever happened. (he likes to see your weak legs, and he’s proud of himself if you have to sit down). he also likes really slow stuff too, though, and he’ll take his time laying you down and undressing you and will kiss your neck and it’s the definition of Making Love. although, unlike niki, las is ALL about that breeding kink. he doesn’t really want kids, but he’s in love with the idea of seeing his partner all big and pregnant and barefoot around the house. it’s all part of staking his claim on you. he also really likes giving his partner hickies, because the clothing of the period allowed for shit like that (high collars on shirts, long sleeves with coats, etc). i feel like there’s a hint of choking in there too; he just grabs at your cravat when fucking you and won’t stop until he sees tears in your eyes.

zemo (tfatws) just... again, he is worthy of his own post, but i’ll make this quick: choking. spanking. pulling your hair. spitting (on your tits, in your mouth, on your cunt before he slides into you). a little tiny bit of slapping too (just Smack A Clit and hear a bitch whimper, i agree). he also has SUCH a thing for like, buying you nice jewelry and fucking you while you’re wearing it. bonus points if it’s a necklace and he gets to watch it bounce off your tits while you fuck yourself on his cock. and buying you nice makeup and edging you until you’re crying and that expensive mascara is running in rivulets down your cheeks.

padre domingo (MY MF MANS)... i literally have no idea where to start with this guy. he DEF is all about what’s bad and sinful and looked down upon, so he likes forbidden rendezvous, which include railing you over the alter. he’s into bondage, but in the way that he’ll wrap his rosary around your wrists and keep count of how many orgasms he’d given you (or, alternatively, how many times he’s edged you). bonus points if he has access to your rosary, so he has TWO rosaries and DOUBLE the number yknow. also... i haven’t really talked ab this before... but... anal. he likes it. he buys into the idea of like “god’s back door” or whatever the fuck, so he’ll be in your ass and like fingering your cunt and pinching your clit WOW i am actually turning red here. he also likes eating you out, mainly for the moment where you squeal when he sucks on your clit and your thighs try to close around his head. he likes for you to be loud. he likes to hear how much pleasure he’s giving you.

hmmm... i think i’ll end this with someone i haven’t touched on before: checo from paradise mall (or, as i call him, emo baby boy who DEFINITELY listens to three cheers for sweet revenge on a fuckn loop)

he just. he. he likes to have his hair pulled. he loves his long hair and, even when y’all aren’t fucking, he likes to have his hair played with. he also likes quick fucks; like, the picture above gives me very “we’re out with friends but you look delicious, come with me to the bathroom and let me rail you”. and he has you leaned over the sink and is fucking you from behind, and he shoves his fingers in your mouth and forced you to watch yourself in the mirror, and he’s in your ear the entire time “you’re squeezing the shit outta me, honey. ya like watching yourself get fucked like the dumb little slut you are? yeah, you fucking like it, i can feel your little cunt getting wetter by the second.” size kink as HELL too, like, he’ll press his hand to your belly as he fucks you and he’ll go harder and faster until he feels himself through you against his hand. he likes to mark you up too, so like hickies on your neck, collarbones, shoulders, thighs, stomach, hips. if he knows that you’ll be wearing a specific item of clothing in the coming days, he will make the darkest, most obscene marks in places that he KNOWS will show.

feel free to add onto this

[blackmissfrizzle]

Knives Out, Thighs Out

A/N:  hi love!! so obsessed with your blog but i wanted to give a little suggestion for that beautiful dress you posted about wanting to use in a fic if thats okay :)) maybe a chris x reader at some red carpet event and she wheres that dress and its drives him a lil crazy ;) orrrrr bucky x reader and they attend one of tony’s parties in that dress haha. anyway, ily 💞

A/N: @gloryevans​ Thanks for the suggestion! I hope you enjoy!

A/N: Also here’s the dress inspiration for this fic.

Damn, you were out of shape. You thought you could outrun Chris, since he didn’t have to keep up with the extreme workouts for Captain America, but you were wrong. The only advantage that you had was, Chris going easy on you and not actually trying to catch you.

“Awww, babe you’re really not gonna let me see,” Chris asked, clearly amused at how hard you were breathing.

Catching your breath, you stood up straight. “Firstly, fuck off, Evans. And secondly, hell no you can’t see it!”

Chris rounded around the couch and pulled you into his embrace. While his hands were massaging your ass, his lips were teasing your skin as he left feather light kisses on your neck. “Pretty please,” he asked between kisses, dropping his voice an octave lower, knowing what that does to you.

Reluctantly, you pulled away from him and swatted at his hands. “Nuh uh. You can’t seduce me into showing you my dress.”

Tomorrow would be the first time you and Chris would be out in public as a couple. You knew you had to be on you’re a-game, because his fans and the media could be vicious. So, you bought the most beautiful dress, but you didn’t want Chris to see until the premiere.

“It’s not fair. You already know what I’m wearing,” Chris whined.

Shrugging your shoulders, you gave Chris a kiss on the cheek and left the room. He would just have to keep wondering, even if it killed him.

—

Chris left a little earlier than you, due to the fact that you needed the extra rest and time to get ready, but you promised him you meet him before he got on the carpet.

When your limo pulled up, you spotted Chris and instantly lost your breath. He filled out his white suit well and all you wanted to do was strip him out of it.

“Ms. Y/L/N, are you ready,” the driver asked, prompting you out of your nasty daydream. Without saying a word, you shook your head yes and the driver came around to open the door for you.

The first thing Chris saw was your thigh and he thought about how he would love to be in between them. But when he finally got to see you in your entirety, he knew he wouldn’t be able to make it through the night without getting in between your legs at least once.

The gown you wore accented your curves and complimented your skin perfectly, giving you a summertime goddess vibe. You accidently stumbled upon the coral and lavender beauty and fell in love instantly, but you were disappointed that the dress didn’t come in your size. Out of desperation, you contacted the designer and they gladly altered the dress to your size.

Once Chris snapped out of it, he walked to the car to help you out of the car. Even with your heels on, you were shorter than Chris and had to look up at him. “Hey daddy,” you whispered into his before kissing him.

In return Chris growled in your ear and gripped your hip tighter to the point you knew you going to have a bruise. Between pictures for the media, you whispered to Chris, “Behave. There’s cameras everywhere.”

Finally remembering where he was, Chris turned his attention from you to the cameras and smiled. When Chris decided that the press had enough pictures, he walked you two off the carpet.

“Time and opportunity,” Chris whispered in your ear, guiding you to the theater.

“Excuse me,” you asked, staring up at him as his darkened blue gaze while peering down at you.

Gripping you even tighter than before, Chris said, “Time and opportunity are the only things keeping me from bending you over, bouncing on my dick, and screaming my name.”

Checking your surroundings, you noticed you and Chris had a modicum of privacy, so you guided Chris’ hands to your unclothed core. “Lucky for you I’m not wearing any panties.”

Chris’ nostrils flared and he took the fingers that were dripping from your wetness and put them in his mouth. The moan he let out was sinful and you were ready to risk it all. Thankfully, his agent came and got him for the panel before the movie began, because the look he shared with you, told you he was about to abandon all his responsibilities and give you those kids he’s been talking about.

Letting his agent pull him away, he mouthed, ‘time and opportunity’ to you.

--

The movie was a hilarious good time and Chris was phenomenal in his role. It was weird to see him play a jackass, but he did wonderful, nonetheless. Now you were mingling with others at the after party, while Chris was being pulled into different conversations. You didn’t mind being alone, you enjoyed seeing Chris getting all the recognition.

Anyway, you didn’t stay alone for too long. Lakeith kept you entertained, knowing you weren’t familiar with all the industry people, and he also wanted to talk shit about the crazy ass white people at the party.

As Chris maneuvered around the party, he noticed that you were spending too much time with Lakeith. Normally, Chris wasn’t a jealous or possessive man, but for another man to be getting your attention in that dress for an extended amount of time wasn’t gonna fly with him. He excused himself from the conversation he was having with some producers about a future project and walked to the bar, where you were at and at that moment, he decided it was time and opportunity.

“Chris, my man, how’s it going?” Lakeith greeted him, clapping his hand and pulling him into a one arm hug.

“Good, just a little tired of this unnecessary mingling. You know how it is. Anyway, I gotta steal my date away from you. My publicist wants pictures of the happy couple.”

Lakeith gave Chris a sympathetic smile, knowing how annoying publicists could be. You gave Lakeith your goodbye as Chris pulled you along, you barely keeping up. Chris gently shoved you into the restroom, not saying a word while he checked all the stalls.

“Baby, what are you doing?”

Just as you finished your question, Chris finished checking the last stall. He strode towards you, unbuckling his pants. “Time and opportunity,” he said before he kissed you.

Once he ended that soul-snatching kiss, Chris ordered you to turn around and put your hands on the wall. “You think you could just entice me with this dress and flirt with another man and there’ll be no consequences?”

Turning your head, you looked at Chris with big, innocent doe-eyes. “What do you mean?” You knew exactly what Chris meant and enjoyed every minute baiting him. When Lakeith started talking to you, you got the diabolic idea to be a little bit too touchy-feely with him whenever you had Chris within your line of sight.

“You really gonna play stupid, huh?” Chris gritted through his teeth as he tugged on your hair. “That’s why I’m gonna fuck you in this restroom like the dirty little slut that you are.”

You didn’t know it was possible, but Chris’ words made you even wetter causing you to poke your ass out even more. Chris bunch up your dress just enough to grant him access to his favorite place in the world.

Without warning he slammed into you, making you cum already. With just a few pumps, you tried pushing Chris away, but he slapped your hand away, “Don’t deny me my pussy.”

Knowing you two didn’t have long, Chris planned his last few strokes to get him over the edge. The roar he let out when he came, overtook your senses that you didn’t notice the tiny, velvet black box that fell from his pocket.

Chris leaned his forehead against the back of your head while the both of you were catching your breath. Thanks to your head leaning down, your eyes caught sight of the black box. You kneeled down to pick it up, “What’s this,” you questioned more to yourself than to Chris.

When Chris finally saw what was in your hand, he tried to knock it out your hand, but you were out of reach when you opened it. The box revealed your dream engagement ring and you started putting the pieces together.

Your boyfriend was looking flustered as you waited for him to ask the question you’ve been dying to hear.

“No! No way, Y/N!” Chris yelled when he saw the expectant look on your face.

“Aww, babe why not? We’re both dressed to the nine’s and the ring’s already out. The only thing missing is you on one knee.”

Chris was completely mortified at your suggestion, but at the same time at least he knew what your answer would be. “I’m not proposing to you in a got damned men’s restroom, while my cum is running down your thigh.”

You looked down and in fact, Chris’s cum was making it way down your leg. Before you could reach for a napkin, Chris was already bending down and cleaning up his mess. After, he finished he snatched the box from your hand, put it in his pocket, and have you a quick kiss.

He poked his head out the restroom door and gave you the clear to come out. Holding his hand out as a signal for you to grab it, you obeyed and walked hand in hand with your man.

“Promise you’ll ask soon,” you asked, right before you two entered the party.

“Promise.” Chris claimed, knowing that by tomorrow morning you would be rocking a new piece of jewelry.

Tags: @chaneajoyyy​ @marvelmaree​ @gloryevans​ @pastelastronomy24​ @ladydragonpurplefire​ @blackreaders-assemble​ @toniilaney​ @yoyolovesbucky​ @dumbchick​ @twistedcharismaaa​ @soufcakmistress​

 I need to make a proper taglist! Sorry if I forgot anyone!

[mybeloved73]

My name is Chelsea and I’m a ITU Nurse.

I’m also a newly qualified nurse - I literally left Uni last year and began my job in the September.

My background - I didn’t always want to be a nurse. I wasn’t cut out for that sort of compassion or care. I dreamt of being a PT, an athlete, anything that was sports driven.

Until my boyfriend had a bike accident, that then left him in ITU. He later succumb to his injuries and passed away. The nurses looking after him, changed my life. Shining light kind of moment - I want to be just like them kind of thing.

Granted it took me 4 years to build up the courage, battling my PTSD, severe depression and anxiety to even apply to uni. But I did it - and Sept 2019 I got my Pin as a registered nurse.

Now, if you 1) think covid19 was made up, a conspiracy or the numbers have been made up as a scare tactic or 2) you actually believe wearing a face covering will cause ‘respiratory arrests’ ‘acidosis’ blah... stop reading. Because this isn’t for you. Or even 3) you have the view of ‘its their job’ - back away from your screen.

You’ve seen in the news about the public sector pay rise? That nurses aren’t included, nor the junior doctors, physio’s etc (I use etc as there are so many people being forgotten in all this and it is used lovingly and not to cause offence)? Honestly, Im so glad that others are being recognised for their input and help during this - the teachers who put in extra work for children of key workers, who sacrificed their home life to entertain little ones every day and try give them the education they need and deserve, to the police, military - anyone receiving this recognition. Honestly you deserve it. And the NHS will not shadow that or take it away from you.

We agree’d to a 3 year pay deal, that had the options of being reconsidered earlier than the final date if there was a change in circumstances. Covid19 should really be considered as a change in circumstances. I mean being told that you’re already ‘unskilled’ and watching people clap to STOP pay rises... was hard enough. But to have everyone else recognised for their vital contributions and lay something that was agreed in 2018 - is inexcusable.

You realise that most nurses didn’t get to see your claps on a Thursday? That’s handover time. And due to covid19 if their handover time was earlier - they were usually late because of how busy it was and still missed it.

I saw one. Because it so happened I had come off of nights the night prior.

So! My life during covid19 starts off with the busiest winter that my hospital has seen in ITU. We have 10 beds. We are funded for 7/8? We had to open an escalation centre that we stole from our day surgery unit to give us a further 3 beds.

Which in itself is hard - looking after seriously sick patients away from your actual designated and designed ward and without the continuous presence of doctors.

That wasn’t enough.

We had to then stole half of the recovery room, which usually houses patients post surgery whilst they wake up.

Going up to 16 patients. Remember - at this point. I’m THREE MONTHS qualified.

Learning is hard, steep, and in-depth. You’re suppose to be trained over the course of a year as a newly qualified, with study days and help from mentors etc. I couldn’t attend some of those days because we didn’t have the staff to look after the most patients our ITU had ever seen.

Now I know ITU is hard. I picked it.

I knew what it entailed, well partly.

I have to maintain my patients artificial airway. They either have a tube in their mouth or in their throat.

They’re then connected to a ventilator.

Every single setting on that machine, every button - changes something drastically.

From the fio2, PEEP, PS, PC, TV, MVE, PEAK, RR, PF ratio, ... one button, one alteration or mistake... literally can stop this person breathing. Cause respiratory distress, arrest.. trauma? anything.

Did you know I have to move that tube in their mouth every hour to stop pressure sores developing in their mouth? And I still have to brush their teeth and give oral care?

I have to suction down their throat and clear their lungs? Or suction their actual mouth for extra secretions?

And record all this data hourly.

To ensure that this patient is comfortable with this tube... I have to medicate this patient.

I have to keep them in an artificial coma.

Titrating the drugs to their optimum levels.

Some are measured mg/hr, mcg/hr, mcg/kg/min..

some have limits on maximum dose per hour you can use.

Some have really severe side effects.

Such as noradrenaline. Which can literally cause your fingers and toes to become necrotic.

I have to monitor someone’s glucose - whether you’re diabetic or not, and correct it if needed with insulin or dextrose.

I have to give diuretics but not allow your body to become too negative, I have to give fluid challenges to ensure you’re not vascular depleted.

I can help your kidneys with the use of a dialysis machine. Literally filter your blood of toxins your body can no longer remove without help of a machine. This requires constant blood tests to ensure that you aren’t collecting dangerous toxins or you need additional support from the machine.

I can use a machine to check your cardiac output and interpret it to make sure that you have enough fluid vs a drug that’ll help squeeze your heart instead.

I can read an ECG and tell if you need additional supplements such as potassium. Do further tests for magnesium, phosphates etc. And deliver those.

I can feed you through a tube down your nose, and ensure you absorb it. But it’s okay I can give you medication to also help that - these require me to do daily ECGs though, and interpret the data of your QTC to make sure it’s not affecting your heart.

Now. If that’s not enough. Covid happens.

Now remember our record was 16 patients?

Try doubling that.

We worked in our ITU,

Escalation centre

Recovery - we took the whole thing.

Next - we took over operating theatres.

3 patients in theatre 6

3 in 5

3 in 4

2 in 3

We stole theatre staff, recovery nurses, ODPS, ward nurses, retired nurses, health visitor nurses, anyone we could relocate to help us.

March - I’m 6 months qualified.

I’m now the most qualified ITU nurse in my theatre.

I have people who have never looked after a ventilated patients before asking me for help. Please don’t silence my alarm if you don’t know why it’s alarming. I know it’s loud and annoying but it’s telling me everything I need to know with enough time before I need to panic.

Now - covid patients weren’t just sick. Weren’t just needing help to breathe. These patients were all sorts of ‘new’. Nothing made sense!

These patients COULDNT be ventilated. We needed to paralyse them to literally be able to take over their breathing properly! No amount of sedation worked! Their lungs were fibrous and acting like elastic under tension.

Side note - if your patient wasn’t sedated enough compared to paralysis - they could be silently awake, but completely paralysed. Knowing everything happening to them. But unable to do anything - not even breathe. Every time you start rocuronium you need to remember that. If you’re withdrawing treatment - TURN THE ROC OFF FIRST. And wait before you do anything else.

Back to it. They were so unstable that you try roll them, which we usually do 4 hourly to prevent pressure sores - they desaturated to numbers so low that you would usually see some hypoxia brain injury after.

We couldn’t roll these patients without risking that. So you know what. You don’t roll.

So we couldn’t protect their skin integrity. You just watch them, and feel guilty.

Nursing school 101 - pressure sores are PREVENTABLE. Roll your patient. Skin care and hygiene is your best friend.

Now covid went against everything a nurse knows and holds dear.

Our ITU never had pressure sores. Until covid. Some had grade 4’s.

Maggot therapy.

Vacuum dressings.

These patients were also clotting, and sending off clots to their kidneys, liver, heart, brain. Covid made your blood super sticky!!!!

People were having strokes whilst being sedated, going from fit to multi organ failure in days. I’m trying to save these people, knowing they could possibly wake up with complete left side paralysis? Never talk again? Never be them again?

Now you know about these past medical histories etc?

You realise what that is?

that it could be Type 2 diabetes?

Hypertension?

That was it for some.

None of this thinking they were super sick, with lists longer than my arm, and that’s why they didn’t make it. No.

Literally things that happen with age. Poor diet? That 120/80 you’re happy you got - THATS PREHYPERTENSION.

I was probably hypertensive the entire time with anxiety.

Did you know We had to use the old anaesthetic ventilators. None of us had used those before. Those big bellows you see in films going up and down rhythmically. Those.

That was scary.

I’m use to a single touch screen button (hello modern technology) to deliver 100% o2 if my patient needs it. This has a switch to a bag, a button, dials to titrate o2 with normal air. And if I didn’t monitor the crystals in the bottom my patient would retain their own co2 and I wouldn’t know why.

New found love for anaesthetists and ODPS - these machines are NOT designed for prolonged use. But they helped us keep our patients alive. By literally guiding us and helping us look after the machines so we could do our job.

Now. All of this is made worse by PPE.

I’m hot.

It’s hot.

And intense and I’m working hard because tonight, I have 3 ventilated patients. By myself.

I have a gown on.

2 sets of gloves

An apron

An FFP3 mask

A hat

A visor

And no air con.

But I’ve got this. I can’t do my hourly checks because I am one person.

My super sick patients now have 2 hourly because it is physically impossible.

Where are the other staff?

Sick.

You’re watching these people struggle to breathe on machines and then being told your close friends at work, your mentors, your seniors are spiking temperatures. Some being admitted to hospital. Some not being able to come back to work for weeks.

Some ending up on your ventilators. It’s okay. I’ve got this.

I’m an ITU nurse right?

CPR wearing that get up. Is TOUGH. 27mins. I cried that day.

We lost 3 patients in 12 hours.

I held the hand of so many people as I turned off their ventilators because their families couldn’t be with them and no one should die alone. No one. I tried my best.. and then once my day had finished, I had to come home to my dad who is immunosuppressed. Who doesn’t understand boundaries. “Kevin stay in the other part of the house!”

*knocks on bedroom door with dinner*.

Proning. What an experience that is. And doing it Daily. The complications of that were scary before you even approach the patient.

So I’m going to flip my patient - who has a tube down their mouth to help breath, who is on medication for sedation, paralysis, to keep their blood pressure up.. from laying on their back - to laying on their front.

Seems easy?

Well it’s not. And requires like 8 people.

8 people.

We don’t have enough people as it is. So we now develop a proning team made up of everyone.

There are consultants, there are experts in their fields, there are physios and then I don’t know who else.

Honestly I couldn’t thank these people enough. More people would have died if we didn’t have a proning team. But now, people spent 23 hours laying on their front. Pressure sores on their faces. Potential of going blind? New complications of not being able to breathe we never expected.

We are finally back into one unit now. I’m still less than a year qualified. And I’m still running on adrenaline expecting this second wave. Those still reading, I know you’re thinking that she picked this job.

She knew what it meant.

And you’re right! Give me those complex drug calculations and ventilators. Oh and the scrubs!

But a pandemic? I didn’t pick that. The world didn’t pick that.

Honestly thank you, to the ward nurses - your lives got flipped upside down.

The physios who became best friends.

Consultants who literally got down and dirty with us.

To the domestics who cleaned furiously for us.

OT’s To literally orientate our patients when they’re waking up like 70 days later.

Every

Single

Person

Who

Helped.

Oh communication team made up of medical students, who updated the families because... I couldn’t. I couldn’t leave my patient. Not like this!

Matron who literally had to facilitate all this, with people who knew nothing about ITU. Being in ITU. Looking after ITU patients. Whilst her own ITU staff were sick, in hospital, or newly qualified, or working to the point they broke.

To the countless companies sending food, goodies, moral support !! Oh my god that was incredible to come to after not having a break for 6+ hours ... mmm... food!!

Did you know they’re offering support for the nurses to stop PTSD, or anxiety or just to help up digest what we saw? Psychological support for just doing your job?

But it’s okay.

We got a deal in 2018 for the pay.

We got clapped thursdays.

We all know that’s not enough, but we will still turn up for work.

We can’t leave our patients.

We can’t strike.

They’ll always mean more to us than pay. And the government knows that. Abuses that.

540 NHS staff lost their life doing ‘just their job’ - today the NHS staff walked through London protesting, to be heard. To be listened to. To be acknowledged. To be paid fair.

Sign the petition for us. Because we aren’t just here for covid. We’re here for life.

https://petition.parliament.uk/petitions/316307

And just put your mask on - please - for that hour you go shopping.

I’ve been wearing mine since March 6th. 13+ hour days. Developed a nice grade one on my nose, my friends faces bleeding from using a rubber respirator....

And We’ll be like this for the foreseeable future.

Now that we have the stocks to do so anyways.

Oh and I’m pissed my graduation was cancelled! All that and I don’t get to wear the hat and gown. Bastard virus. (I understand there was more lost but humour me).

Signed, your registered ITU nurse. We will always continue to monitor.

[amberandmetal]

My favourite thing

A/N: Some Stony flangst for you this Valentine’s day. Don’t worry, the angst is in the first half and the other half is pure fluff. So basically hurt/comfort. There is some mightbeinterpretedaspastStuckyifyousquint in there so if that’s not your thing you have been warned. I wrote this today after listening to the playlist I made for my boyfriend for Valentines. The songs are Snow patrol- Chasing cars, and Dusty Springfield - I only want to be with you

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     The party had dwindled down and the clock was inching towards 3 a.m. Thor and Jane had retired to their room, Bruce had left the party as soon as he thought it appropriate, Natasha and Sam had vanished after half the night and was nowhere to be found, Tony had made a beeline for his workshop as soon as he thought that nobody was watching, and left was Clint half asleep on the couch and Darcy lying on the floor in front of the stereo, bobbing her feet along to the music, and Steve, drunk on Asgardian mead and holding his head to keep it from spinning.

    “Oh, I love this song” Darcy groaned happily.

    Steve’s ears perked up, trying to focus on the music instead of the spinning going on in his head. He didn’t recognize the song, granted he had missed ca 70 years of music history so he wasn't all that surprised.

    His head throbbed in time with the mulling pain in his chest, only amplified by the asgardian alcohol burning holes in his veins. It was the same pain he had felt every second of every minute of every day since he was rescued from the ice.

     Pain for every person he had lost.

{ I don't quite know How to say How I feel }

Steve didn’t know when the first sob came,

{ Those three words Are said too much They're not enough }

or the second,

{ If I lay here If I just lay here Would you lie with me and just forget the world? Forget what we're told Before we get too old Show me a garden that's bursting into life }

he was only dimly aware of the third because it managed to rock his entire body. He opened a bleary eye to search for potential onlookers but Clint was snoring peacefully on the other couch and Darcy seemed to be too close to the speakers to hear him.

    People like to say that memories come bubbling to the surface, but that’s not what it felt like to Steve. Instead they shot from his subconscious like a malicious fireball, wrecking everything on its way to the forefront of Steve’s consciousness. Memories, images of places and feelings long gone surged into his thoughts, blinding him to anything else. Image after image.

    His hands being small and spindly, body hurting all over and his lungs constricting with every breath; him looking up to Bucky who smiled back down at him; Bucky and a night sky filled with stars, and grass tickling his neck; Bucky with silvery aquamarine eyes just for him; Bucky focusing on Steve; Bucky seeing Steve; Bucky seeing Steve when nobody else would.

{ All that I am All that I ever was Is here in your perfect eyes, they're all I can see }

    And oh, oh but that hurt; the pain shooting straight through Steve’s heart so hard he had to clutch a pillow to his chest, almost bending over double on the couch. All he could see was those eyes, those kind bright eyes that he would never see again. He felt plagued by the image of the Winter soldier glaring at him on the bridge; the monster wearing his best friend’s face. It was Bucky, except for the hair and the clothes everything about his appearance was Bucky— except for the eyes. Hydra had robbed him of his aquamarine kindness and left him with nothing but silver.

{ I don't know where Confused about how as well Just know that these things will never change for us at all If I lay here If I just lay here Would you lie with me and just forget the world? }

    And the floodgates opened and Steve lost nearly all damned control as he shook with the pain strangling him though his spine. He could feel it through his drunken haze: physical sensations mimicking the agony that churned inside him.

    The vision of Bucky in his military uniform appeared before his mind’s eye: ‘Sergeant James Barnes, shipping out for England first thing tomorrow’, and Steve thought he would break apart. His eyes. His beautiful eyes that saw what nobody else saw.. everything he never told him, never got a chance to— was too scared to—

    Darcy sighed dreamily as the song ended and turned to put it on repeat, and Steve gritted his teeth and nearly screamed into the couch cushion.

~~~

    It was Jarvis who alerted him to the worrying state of their Captain.

    “Sir, I feel obligated to report increasing signs of distress in Captain Rogers and seeing as he is intoxicated and in the common area—”

    “What’s going on, J?” Tony put his visor up and his blowtorch down, drawing up a hologram feed from the common room, scanning the image with a sinking feeling in his stomach.

    “The alien liquid mr. Odinsson brought seem to combat the Captain’s enhanced metabolism, keeping him intoxicated, but his alcohol levels appear to be under the level of concern. However his blood pressure as well as his pulse are currently spiking and he is showing alarming symptoms of distress and—”

    Tony removed the rest of his tools and darted out of the workshop.

    “Alright, dear. I’m on it.”

    When he arrived to the common area, Steve seemed to have calmed down enough that his pulse wasn’t running a mile a minute, but his face, oh, but his face. The sight physically hurt. Blue blue eyes staring empty and vacant in front of him and tendrils of tears running down slightly pink cheeks, only interrupted by the occasional sob.

    No no, Tony thought, no this won’t do.

    He moved to usher Darcy off the floor and away from the stereo. She grunted in a way that Tony had quickly learnt in Darcinian meant basically ”Fine, but fuck you.”

    He rummaged through the music, until he found what he was looking for, silently thanking the few beers still in his system because there was no way he'd be comfortable enough doing this sober. Cap was too proud to talk, had always been. So Dusty it was.

    “Tony, what-”

    The first notes of Dusty Springfield’s ‘I only want to be with you’ started to pour from the speakers to interrupt him. Tony walked up to stand in front of him, hand outstretched.

    “Dance with me.”

    “Tony, no— come on.”

    “I’m serious, I mean the song is a bit after your time but it’s still pretty damn old.. I mean relatively.. should be right up your alley,” Tony grinned at him “and you need a dance, that much is obvious.”

    Steve sighed,  let the corner of his mouth quirk up in a way that was entirely unconvincing and wiped at his eyes.

    “Tony, I don’t think—”

    “Good, don’t think, it ruins the fun.”

    Steve looked up at that and almost allowed himself a small chuckle at the twinkling in Tony’s eyes.

    “Fine.”

    “Good.”

    He pulled Steve up by his arm, which honestly he would not have been able to do if Steve didn’t want him to, and led him away from the couch signaling to Darcy to push away the chairs and table; which she did, albeit a bit clumsily. She had managed to down an entire whiskey bottle by herself and Tony was actually kind of proud over the fact that she managed to remain upright for enough time to move the furniture.

    “I still can’t dance.”

    “It’s funner that way”, Tony winked and that finally wrought a smile and a small huff of laugh from Steve.

    “Knew I could force a smile out of ya, nobody stands a chance against my charms.

    “Your charms, huh?”

    “Yes, yes exactly. Please, try to keep up.”

{ I don't know what it is that makes me love you so I only know I never want to let you go 'Cause you started something, can't you see That ever since we met you've had a hold on me I happens to be true, I only want to be with you }

    Tony tried an easy and slow mash between a modern jive and something of a waltz, sticking to basic moves and made sure to keep it as stupid and goofy as possible; and Steve, ever the elegant super-human, was infuriatingly quick to catch on, following Tony’s lead in an upsettingly graceful manner. He still had a few tears on his face and the embarrassed smiles altered with choked of sobs and tiny hiccups.

{ It doesn't matter where you go or what you do I want to spend each moment of the day with you Look what has happened with just one kiss I never knew that I could be in love like this It's crazy but it's true, I only want to be with you }

    Tony let go of Steve with his left, catching him by surprise to twirl him and then managed a ridiculous little shimmy with his hips. Now that had Steve laughing; a real unrestrained laugh accompanied by a wet but genuine smile and if that wasn’t the most beautiful thing Tony had ever seen..

    “There he is”, he grinned “come on, Cap. Let’s show em how it’s done.”

    “You’re ridiculous.”

    “Fun. The word you’re looking for is fun.” and yes! Steve huffed another laugh. Tony did an internal victory dance. This was turning out to be a very good day after all, and Tony busied his mind with locking away mental image after image of Steve smiling, Steve laughing, Steve looking at him with something soft in his eyes.

    “Come on, Rogers! Shake it!”, Darcy exclaimed, then followed with a whoop and a drunken cackle.

    The tips of Steve’s ears tinted slightly pink and his cheeks followed approximately 1.5 seconds later.

    Adorable.

    Tony dove forward to twirl him again.

    “You heard the lady!”

    Steve’s laugh was quickly turning addictive and Tony felt obligated to keep the Captain laughing because yes, more of that, always more of that. He grabbed his hands and worked their arms back and forth in beat with the trumpets going baa-baba-ba and Steve was just completely, overwhelmingly adorable. He was so different from how he usually was: the tense, disciplined alwayslookingoutforeverybodyelse Captain America. Now he seemed more like the boy Tony had seen photographs of, the boy Steve used to be before they jacked him up on Super soldier juice. He looked slightly embarrassed but happy and loose, almost relaxed; and the tears had started to dry. Victory.

{ Now, listen, honey, I just want to be beside you everywhere As long as we're together, honey, I don't care 'Cause you started something, can't you see That ever since we met you've had a hold on me No matter what you do, I only want to be with you }

    “You stopped and smiled at me and asked if I cared to da-a-ance, I fell into your open aaarms,” Tony sang with the words and turned to jokingly fall against Steve’s arms looking up at him, “and I didn't stand a chance!”

    Okay, so maybe he was a bit more drunk than he had previously thought.

    “Ridiculous”, Steves chuckled, exasperated but fond.

    “FUN”, Tony enunciated every sound of the word like he was talking to a toddler “fun is the word you’re looking for.”

    The last notes of the song rang out and another oldie started playing. Steve dragged Tony up on his feet and turned him to wrap his arms around him, and then Tony was enveloped by massive and warm, warm, warm. If he allowed himself to melt a bit against Steve nobody had to know.

    “Thank you.”

    “Aw, Cap I should be the one thanking you. I’m the one who asked for the dance, remember?” Tony teased.

    Steve snorted.

    “Shut up.”

    “Language!” and Tony was proud that he had managed to sound genuinely offended. Again Steve chuckled and it was like molasses over Tony’s brain, music to his ears! Whatever, he loved it.

    “Ugh, I love your laugh”, and crap- he had said that out loud, hadn’t he?

    Steve tensed for a moment, then moved his head away to peer down at him, brows furrowed; his baby blues seemingly liquid in the low light. When Tony just grinned sheepishly and shrugged Steve’s features relaxed and he gripped Tony’s chin with his thumb and index finger, nuzzling his cheek and yeah this was quickly racing up to the top on Tony’s Best Things Ever- list, right above coffee and Black Sabbath's greatest hits.

    “Then I guess I’ll just have to do more of it.” he murmured against Tony’s skin. And then finally, blissfully, he tightened the grip on Tony’s chin and brought his lips up to meet his own.

    Tony made a choked off trilling noise in the back of his throat because yes.

    Steve hummed in response, angling his head just so and Tony melted some more.

    “Finally!”

    Oh, good, so Darcy was still awake then.

    Steve chuckled against Tony’s lips and that just left Tony in an awful position because smiling was good, smiling Steve was on his top three favourite things after all but smiling also stood in the way for maximum lips on lips contact and that would just not do.

    But then Steve licked over his bottom lip and yeah there went Tony’s last functioning brain cell. Good riddance, see you never.

    Behind them Darcy pointedly cleared her throat.

    “You know, even though this is adorable beyond words and all that, maybe you should, you know, not do that.. here.” she raised her right eyebrow meaningfully.

    Steve surprised them both by tipping his head back and barking out a laugh, tearing away from Tony a bit to wipe at his eyes. Huh, okay then. But Steve was smiling, and laughing and lookingyt   soft and happy and Tony’s heart swelled at the sight.

    Yeah, Steve-smiles was quickly becoming his favourite thing.

[glopratchet]

astryl-wondering

with an angry face, it's eyes are filled with hatred and rage Cludstrum is a computer program that is attached to the conciousness of astryl wylde, a journalist for the realm of astokahn He bursts out of a tent made out of stained bed sheets in a desert environment It keeps whispering to astryl trying to get him back online, who is full of bitterness and captive to sin and this is evident because of astryl being attached and fused within a succubus and a incubus he's got his hands tied behind his back and has been brutally beaten up by Cludstrum Astyrl of course comes out of the tent naked with his green smelly breath He falls on his knees and out come his cow shaped teeth a garbage dump "Alright faggot demon imbecile! keep it together" The wrecked tent looks like with green, blue and reddish purple stripes yet it's made out of bedsheets and thin particles hold the tent from collapsing This is Cludstrum The mutated tent is colored Large speaker machine Snow white colored sheets spotted with saliva and puke The following items adorn the warped tent He gets one glance at the tent before it disappears He heres the voice of the succubus and the incubus sing on a iPhone, even though these technologies have been discontinued due to malfunctionings and loss of benefits throughout all human owned smartphones in 2035 There is a ui element which tracks his mood, one of the few interfaces working out of energy It is currently hot, unpleasant, and drained all of them are lit up except for three of the six hexes in his surrounding area The ui shows a grid of hexes around him that he could move between Cursing himself over and over again for his stupidity he hestitates to identify these traps One of them could be a massage chair, another could be a prison made out of invisible walls to seal him off and of not listening to his inner voice he moves by crawling along the sand covered floor over to the closest trap Hating himself for making the mistake he pushes at the sand with his toes and uses his fingers to find out what lays beyond, knowing that touching either of two items will cause instant death Not rememebering why he fused with the two vice lords in the first place 's current position Cludstrum is in the background running play by play announcements of all that is happening around astryl The realtionship to cludstrum and astryl remainds somewhat secertive through out the encounter Rael and moxxi also drop down from baby jeeps whiles Raziel sits on top of the surrealistic tanks and regret, he clenches his fists in bottumless rage They hop on their jeeps, with moxxi riding Raziel's Astryl keeps trying to remember why he decided to devolve himself into these poor acts of debauchery ware coders The outside temperature remains the same as it always does in astral, the atmosphere having a perpetual grayish blue color and a dark sky It is foggy but he remembers some fella with nice facial hair mentioning the words live on his astral toolbar, it says "cloudy with a chance of monotony" A weather readout finally comes back up near a mountainous region He will finds himself in some dust storm He finds himself some more kindle and makes a small fire with the limited wood he has on hand There seems to be some kind of corrupting computer virus that has been feasting on the bits of cludstrum 's harddrive "Have a fun Apocalypse" he whisperd to himself as ironic statement The creautures feasting on the being of astryl are know as slender smooth hounds they are escaped biotechnology experiments with no eyes, a slim body and long bloody fangs inside a lipless mouth He returns to the conscious world with great haste and turns around just at the right moment to witness a demonic creature take his soul from his grasp The appear out the corners of the screen and gobble up parts of the interface or make the symbols go wacky He woke in astral just yesterday and he remembers nothing, still floating in the same familiar blue sky, no one having come looking for him Cludstrum is attempting to get these parts of astryl sorted out but the two never seem to acknowledge one another A list of contacts comes back on but only one mention can be deciphered astryl gathers what he can from the ones left over All the other contacts seem to squeeked out and are unintelligible ics, astral code, causing most of it to sound like a medievel dialect The name on the contact list is cylopiean anglyph There will be times when the frequencies will align to get astryl out of here but other entrapments lie ahead But the conditions are not right to travel and see him since the updating corrupted the database Cludstrum states that qefizat clencher is going to take a little while to get back online Only then will the qefizat clencher work when it is slightly raining outside with a small chance of actrually seeing cludstrum in it it will not be an easy traveling undurt That much is clear and it will have to take qepen the gnome machines in the higher parliment to be fixed The ui will break intermently Parts of the displays called mirrors will go on and off line for the duration of the expierence Thats the only way to advance to later levels since only the coders can access those levels in astral Untill the code corruption is sealed off and deleted and all the slender smooth hound stds are destroyed How this is achieved is a mystery all he knows is that this whole altered reality will become more intregal part of his life now for now Cludstrum states that he will need some cucumber to fix some of the issues since portions of his life force were tapped to keep this expriement up and running Astryl considers the fact that he might be thirsty and hungry he tries to ask Cludstum about it and nothing comes out But why would an immortal have need for water or food A sprite comes to give him a strange fruit and some bugstach beer or what their expenstive tastes might have done to them This will be back burner task for now since that machine is completely fubar In order to this the currency exchange must be debugged or astryl does not now what this stuff does If astryl checks his rectum he finds some aluminum alligator skutes with which to spend as money in this reality so on and so forth but the sprite surely cannot do it, they go away instead Why not? Cludstrum will narrate the going ons of astryl wylde or run into dangers for the experience In order to debug parts of the screens astyrl need to eat things Not really his job He ate a strange burrowing worm that appeared when under the red canopied beds speaking of why not let us come back there These things provide cludstrum with the neccassary bits to fix the systems that astryl burst through his sins So one of the first mirrors that cludstrum gets online is the mirror that shows a list of edible items in the vicinity of astryl though some things do provide sustenance and others are deadly or just bad like pickled pixie testicles Astyrl is immortal so he can eat pretty much anything So throughout his existence he forgets the fact that anything he has ever eaten can be digested into syrup and absorbed through the lips The pratice is known as oophagy into his imagination as his tastes savor sweet and sour His tongue tastes like slime so it only makes sense for him to consume such things He pulls colors out of the things he imbies from the trips Cludstrum uses these colors to fix the systems of astryl that have broken down So some of it is easy math and some of it is nice to look at too and the stuff that he likes best is mostly gone now so he will have ot make due with what the dunes provide, but there is enough and this system will But right now he is in a desert so there is not that much to eat or something on the next trip and he will be set for awhile He can find some cactus until he eventually finds some sweet liquid to eat or drink What can cludstum do about that? Eating the thorns will put him in a worse and worse mood What can Cludstum noe do about that? There are some rocks but since he has no teeth he have to break them down to swallow them now that he is weak so he can break it down too There is even a black snake with no eyes but he must be really quick to capture it with really slow and convoluted thought process So yeah this first part is astryl wondering in the desert earth since the laser reflected off and expanded many things back on itself when he entered this particular trip with cludstrum, This urban option sounds far more inviting He can find an oasis or an urban environment in which to explore next and report on the doings on a nudist colony Another place to explore in the desert is Cludstum seems to have a problem with that option an old sciencet type installation called area 51 A scary place to explore in the desert is the gardens of il Duque, an old man that grows Roses there amongst many other plants and fruits too numerous to mention A freindly place to explore in the desert is As the sun lowers itself across the horizon many miles across the sands astryl ponders his choices and comes up with a solid game plan for his trip all the stars in the sky will be reflected in his eyes When the sky is completely dark slowly creeps into the darkness and creeps into his eyes A sickly light coming from giant structures in the east gets faster and faster until he sprints into the deep darkness of the New York streets--an atrocity to nature that never should have come to be Astryl horizontal flailing his way through the tunnel of darkness that shows no light above him, screams into a small house to his left The door is open Astryl merciless bellying on the couch in a manner unbefitting of a grown man The wrecked tent obsessive shivering on the floor still in a manner unbefitting of a grown man The wrecked tent tranquilized climaxing himself in his room still in a manner unbefitting of a grown man The wrecked tent cryptic worm holing sniffling into his sleeve, with blood shot eyes Astryl clandestine sniveling The cracked TV flickering to life as a burly man walks by waving and smiling in every direction leaping across the room and colliding with the burly man as he makes his way to the fridge Astryl charcoal howling into the ash as he floats up into cludspere grumbling through dark twisted chaos Astryl mysterious graying on a cracked leather couch to hear nyotropolis bathed in light underneath his feet, with the great island of Manhattan rising above him Astryl naked awakening his journey over and over in vivid detail in his head Astryl indispensable replaying onward to his next destination: a boarding school in the state of home--Las vegaag Astryl byzantine proceeding this scryox with less primitive and more advanced timing Kludstrm overdue programming off the side of this lumbering and ancient airship as it continues on its interminable course to the setting sun Astryl diseased pissing ovens that were a marvel of engineering in thier time and still do well to keep the flat-bread maker from becoming caked with charcoaled flour inside Kludstrm foul self-cleaning from the midday sun under a table mounted to the giant wooded bone of some now extinct species Astryl unique sheltering his eyes from the glare of a solar powered street light The usual metal quota will suffice Astryl lopsided shading Kludstrm slow detecting vague but powerful auras of more advanced metals under the street through his special dark glasses made just for that purpose Kludstrm undesirable ripping off large sections Astryl pronounced scratching aches and pains of the rip to you through the internet, his poor fingers forbidden by law from handling such radiants without a black mamba certified duty medicaut Kludstrm scrupulous transmitting the long lonely walk across the sterile sands of your home towards the only jugular big enough for you to catch a ride on--the interstates Astryl sovereign beginning at a haphazard but incredibly swift rate causing the large scars to seemingly disappear from his back Kludstrm obnoxious shuffling to the bathroom on feet Kludstrm multicolored healing middle america Your car A gloomy visual aura of anonymity cloaks the entirety of your surroundings Fashionable stand with clunky shoes and emaciated Astryl dowdy criss crossing perhaps unnecessary path Kludstrm undisciplined raising arm to sky You surge a mile wide fireball from above the grave A slippery but evasive Kludstrm impotent blocking looping in a circle Kludstrm damp screaming in agony A tower of logs smashes into the cushions and ricochets off guided by Astryl embattled aspirating with exhaustion, and concentration, and a fine layer of sweat Kludstrm uncontrollable limping away hesitantly Astryl crimson glistening along the route of the projectile Sunset brings with it something as equally red but most likely accompanied by the clinking of dishes Astryl boyish squinting over a story by an artificially generated ocean wave crashing against a bogus tropical isle Kludstrm chintzy dozing off Astryl wretched tanning images of golden arches Kludstrm bestial streaking across the sky Kludstrm afferent generating an interstice in the woods Astryl insubstantial scouting Kludstrm cheerful warning police of overusing smiley faces Kludstrm uncommercial scratching at a rash caused by cheap clothing Actually, I stole the car from Styx for resteraunts on the satelite map Quite a few actually Astryl senseless scavenging a cough Kludstrm elite firing a gun at speeding vehicle All three of us with time to cross the street and maneuver through scenery to make our Kludstrm dusky developing on random pills i found in the glove compartment Most importantly it tastes like gin and tonic Astryl tasteless chewing on old chewing gum Kludstrm mercurial scratching at a rash caused by cheap clothing I find a parking spot after some time, if only Astryl boorish choking a herd of drug dealing bikers I can hear the faint sound of engines not stops Kludstrm ideological attracting on root beer and twizzlers They seem to be flying independent of the rules of gravity A vicous wolf jumps on Kludstrm from behind and Astryl oppressed surviving the night in the car while Astryl and I go scout furing a night at starbucks, you'd think they'd be better coffee shops Maybe: Kludstrm schematic spending the location of the next few targets Kludstrm nuclear tinkering with the dark humor of reality outside the local tire warehouse Kludstrm Astryl crummy tracking Kludstrm exhaustive matching wings with an angel outside the city hall A truck roars from the left signified by flashing lights and--dear God! casually through the hotel zone Kludstrm tawny wandering in the service entrance with a small plastic container Astryl swashbuckled whistling before the shadowy presence of sundown Kludstrm peachily waiting outside for us, cradling a golden thingamajig I slide my A sun filled sky grudged retreating The city of beetriot paranoid reemerging transforming the metropolis into one of panic and A random car alarm sounds off a couple blocks away The rumble reaches deafening proportions with festive illuminations shaped like rapidly thinning hyperactive pansies Using a small pick, Kludstrm delicately works at the lock on the metallic The city of beetriot shallow glimmering The city of beetriot rude fluorescing with luminous florescent tubes shaped like short walls of fluid graphene A wolfish smile appears underneath yellow curved fangs, Kludstrm tells me his contact policemen guarding every street corner This is quite troublesome as I had hoped to accomplish my work in the saftey of my Kludstrm gutt The city of beetriot wrinkled serious looking ious golden pansies line the streets forming a chaotic collage of exquisite artificial coloratura Fortunately I notice a small park to the side of the old Ant irector's head explodes in slow motion Flower petals land softly on the bloody director's seat as he spins across the sky urnal and Kludstrm barely manages to run a search on him

[viralhottopics]

YA author Mindy McGinnis returns to the book world with new epic fantasy novel ‘Given to the Sea’

Image: Penguin Young Readers

Sometimes the best way to follow a hit novel is to switch things up and try something completely different.

Or at least that’s the case with YA author Mindy McGinnis and her latest book, epic fantasy novel Given to the Sea.

SEE ALSO: ‘All Our Wrong Todays’ is your next fast-reading, mind-expanding, science fiction romance

The novel follows four intertwined characters Khosa, Vincent, Donil and Witt as each struggles to confront fate and loyalty in the warring kingdom of Stille. At the center of the story is Khosa, a girl destined to sacrifice herself to the sea to save her village. After surviving an attack on her village, Khosa is taken to safety at the royal palace in Stille where she finds herself enmeshed in a love triangle or probably more apt, love square that could alter not only her own fate but the fate of her kingdom.

“I had this idea that writing fantasy would be easy because I get to make up all the rules, no research required. Not true,” explains McGinnis. “In fantasy, nothing is a given, nothing is assumed. I have to do a lot of explaining… and keep that interesting. I’ve written post-apocalyptic, historical, contemporary, and now fantasy. Fantasy is by far the hardest.”

The book comes fresh off the heels of McGinnis’ 2016 contemporary YA novel Female of the Species. The novel followed Alex, a teenage girl who seeks vigilante justice on the sexual abusers in her town. Female of the Species was much acclaimed at the time of its release for its exploration of feminism, sexual violence and justice. (The MashReads Podcast actually recommended it. Twice.)

It’s this juxtaposition contemporary YA to fantasy that may shock McGinnis’ fans picking up her latest book. Yet McGinnis teases that Given to the Sea contains something for all types of readers.

“There’s something for everyone here – romance, gruesome deaths, magic, sword fights, scary animals, and inevitable death.”

Given to the Sea doesn’t come out until April 11. In the meantime, check out a sneak peek of the book’s first two chapters below.

Image: Penguin Young Readers

Chapter 1Khosa

It is in my blood.

It is in my bone.

It is in my brain.

One day my body will betray me, dancing into the sea, my mind a passenger only. The water will close over my head and I will drown, my death bringing a reprieve for those who are not me. This is what Ive been born and bred for. The food passing into my mouth, the clothes covering my body, every breath I drawthese are smaller offerings, each a promise that I will endure, bear my own cursed daughter, and then succumb.

How that will happen I do not know. My mother suffered the touch of another at least once, long enough to fulfill her duties and bring me about. I know it was badly done. I see it in the faces of my Keepers, these people who care for me without caring. I hear the small things in their voices. They worry I will not be pleasing to the sea, that my mother and her chosen mate created something less than perfect. I understand their concern, but cannot share it. Why should I care if the tides rise again, if I am only a corpse riding the waves?

To live aware of your own doom is no easy thing. I spend my days at lessons, my body fulfilling the expected duties, though my mind is elsewhere. The Keepers are worried that I have not prepared well, have not set my face in the appropriate response to their commands. Happy, for instance, is an emotion I cannot be expected to parade, but they tell me it is necessary. Melancholy I excel at.

My mother and grandmother had other lessons, ones to please at table and dancing. Proper chewing, proper speaking, proper walkingonly expected, of course, when we are in control of our limbs. My lessons have taken a different course, my other instructors quietly dismissed once I learned all that was expected.

All except how to contort my stone face appropriately.

The Keepers have tried, their emotions chasing through their faces so quickly I cant keep up, my own trying to mirror what I see. They say to me, Pleased, but look nothing like it themselves, and I am easily confused on this point. So I often retreat, my mind escaping the room where I learn to mimic emotion, returning itself to some well-ordered facts absorbed from a musty book, its scent still lingering on my fingers, a source of comfort.

Their pages follow me through the day, their words imprinted on my mind. I know the history of my land better than the Scribes, better than the royals who rule it. I can recite the names of my predecessors, from the woman who gave birth to me all the way to Medalli, one of the Three Sisters whom the sea gave back after the wave that took nearly all. Seaweed was pulled from their hair, their locks drying as they worked alongside other survivors to rebuild what had washed away, not knowing they would be taken again, the first of the Given.

The sea waited until the sisters had married and had children of their own before it called for them, the price of its leniency the blood of their line. For the children went too, and their children after them, the first twitches of their childhood pulling them toward the water, the final coordinated movements driving them deep into the waves, the dance of death one their kingdom deemed the will of the sea. And so it continues. Their footprints in the sand not returning, my feet now itching to follow. Medallis linemineremains strong, the other two Sisters falling short, the last names in their column females who did not produce heirs, the ink that wrote them now faded with time.

I rub my fingers together, drawing the scent of the book pages from them as my male Keeper says, Sad. Sad I can perform, closing my eyes and picturing my name, Khosa, the ink slightly darker than my mothers name before me, Sona.

Dont close your eyes, he says.

I open them again to see my Keepers, their faces so easily read.

Disappointment.

Chapter 2Vincent

Im sorry you have to wait, my lord.

Not a concern, I answer the guard, but my eyes are on my hands, the clean nails freshly clipped, the smoothness of my palms interrupted by the lines that Madda insists hold my future.

In any kingdom other than Stille, the future of a prince wouldnt need to be read in his hands. It would be clear in his actions, the preparations taken to ensure he sits the throne well, does his duty, leads his country. Somewhere else I would be wed already, the announcement of my own child eagerly anticipated, the girl I keep on the side politely excused, with her pockets lined for her trouble. Instead I sit outside the throne room at the age of seventeen, awaiting my turn to speak to King Gammalmy grandfatherhealthy, hearty, capable. At his side, my father Prince Varrick, already gray and lined, but still sitting in the lower throne.

I shift on the wooden bench, and the trapman next to me slides farther away, the smell of sea salt rising from his clothes. Im sorry, my lord. Do you need more room?

More than enough room, I insist, patting the space between us.

Hes quiet for a moment, and the lady on the bench next to ours fills the hall with the clicking of her wooden knitting needles. One foot rests casually on the ball of coarse wool beneath her feet to keep it from rolling away as she works. Shes assured, content. As a citizen of Stille, she is entitled to speak to the king, and her turn will come. Eventually.

I look back at my empty hands and the lines that Madda the Seer wrinkles her brow at. Her answers to my questions are always vague and muttered.

Am I right to say my lord? the trapman asks. Is that what youre called?

The words it doesnt matter are half formed in my throat, but I choke them back.

The womans needles continue to click. Her hands are gnarled and work-worn, but her color is good, and the hat she is knitting small. For a grandchild. Or great-grandchild. They are lucky to have her. I tell myself these things every day: Stille is fortunate. Stille is healthy. Stille is strong. Years of peace and prosperity mean that the old linger and the middle-aged flourish, while the young inherit only boredom and aimlessness.

Just Vincent, I say, finally answering the trapmans question. No title necessary.

Youre of royal blood, the woman says, not glancing up from her work. It should not be taken lightly.

No… My voice fades away. I have no words to explain succinctly, only memories from my childhood when I was called the baby prince, and then the young prince, and now theres a hesitation, a slight pause before acknowledging my rank. There is no name for the third in line, one whose hands will wither with age long before they hold the scepter.

Ive come to hate the blank space before my given name, the deferential glance of the servants as they search for a title that represents nothing. So I make it easier for them, and for myself.

Just Vincent, I reassert. The old woman makes a disapproving noise in her throat and keeps knitting. The trapman smiles at me, his teeth even, strong, and white in a face lined with wrinkles.

Im Agga. He holds out a bent hand, gnarled from years of pulling in the crab traps, the lengthy ropes rubbing it raw. Even the trapmen dont go into the water, letting the tides carry out the traps. His skin feels of age and the scars of work, years of absorbed salt water pressing back against the softness of my own hands.

How is the sea, Agga? I ask.

He shakes his head. Eating the beach with hunger. Well be needing her thats given to the sea, and soon.

I will pass that along, I say. I dont add that my voice doesnt carry in the great hall, only echoes back into my ears.

Here to do it myself, Agga says, and I wonder if he followed my thought.

I saw when the last one was given, the woman says. She danced beautifully.

They all have, Agga says.

But their faces, they do… twist, the woman adds, her own mimicking the memory, a brief mask of horror that slides off easily as she counts her stitches.

Do they want to go? I ask.

Agga shrugs. Its their own feet taking them. No one in Stille makes them go. Were not the Pietra, feeding sea monsters with the flesh of their aged.

No. The woman shudders, dropping the first stitch since Ive sat here. Were not the Pietra.

Theres laughter in the throne room. It reverberates under the closed doors, my grandfathers hearty one underscored by my fathers, which has never ceased to produce goose bumps on my skin, even in a lifetime of hearing it.

Im sorry you have to wait, my lord, the guard says again.

Not a concern, I repeat, looking back at my hands, where lifelines extend forever, marching right off the palm.

Waiting is what Im good at.

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from YA author Mindy McGinnis returns to the book world with new epic fantasy novel ‘Given to the Sea’