#i literally used children's school glue to repair the ones i had when i was 15 or so

[jenna-louise-jamie]

quick someone give me 200+ dollars so i can get new glasses. i just dropped my fragile pair onto the floor and gorilla glue can only go so far. ive glued these glasses back together more times than i can count. also let's kill whoever's responsible for making glasses this expensive.

[ntrending]

I got my hip replaced at 39. Here’s why that might get more common.

New Post has been published on https://nexcraft.co/i-got-my-hip-replaced-at-39-heres-why-that-might-get-more-common/

I got my hip replaced at 39. Here’s why that might get more common.

A titanium-alloy spike is now part of my femur.

The five-inch-long forged hunk of metal came off the assembly line in a Memphis, Tennessee, factory in December 2017. Manufactured by a company called Smith and Nephew, the component is a model called Anthology. It’s one of four pieces that comprise my artificial hip.

That part, called a stem, joined my body in April of last year, at NYU Langone Orthopedic Hospital in Manhattan. A surgeon cut off the boney ball at the top of my femur, reamed out the socket in the part of the pelvis where the hip joint is located (anatomically, the “acetabulum”), and installed that stem, plus three other pieces. Later that same day, I left the hospital and went home with those components as new members of the body I was born with in 1978.

I’m one of hundreds of thousands of people in the U.S. who receive a total hip replacement each year. As a young person—I was 39 when it was installed—I’m an outlier, but also somewhat hip to a trend. The age of artificial hip recipients is falling: In 2000, the average age was just over 66; in 2014, it was 64.9. The fastest growing group? It isn’t retirees, but rather people ages 55 to 64, says Matt Sloan, a surgical resident at the University of Pennsylvania medical school who has researched the procedure’s demographic trends.

I wanted a new hip because I’d been in pain for years. In 2010, when I was in my early 30s, I tore my labrum, which is ring-like cartilage in the joint. A painful arthroscopic surgery in 2011 to repair it failed to make my hip better, and I needed a “revision” surgery. In 2014, a doctor did everything he could to repair the joint, and gave me a tissue graft from a cadaver to fix my re-torn labrum. Ultimately, that operation also failed. I needed a new hip. It was the weakest point in my body—an arthritic joint that had to go.

Over the decades, the materials in artificial hips have improved enough that doctors are now confident putting them in younger patients like me. “Surgeons, in the past, were unwilling to do a total hip replacement on them, because they thought they might be starting a sequence of multiple operations,” says Dr. Lawrence Dorr, a professor of clinical orthopaedic surgery at the University of Southern California Keck School of Medicine. Now, “they know they can do a hip replacement, and if it’s very well done, there isn’t any reason it can’t go 30 years.”

A series of failures, breakthroughs, and incremental improvements throughout the 20th century have led to a prosthesis so refined that bone can literally grow into it.

Here’s how it works: The four parts of a modern artificial hip replace a big ball and socket joint. During the operation, after the surgeon cuts off that ball at the top of the femur—the thigh bone, if you’re singing along—they insert a titanium stem inside the hollowed-out bone, with a portion of it still protruding. Then, a ceramic head (the new ball), attaches to the top of the stem; mine was made by German company Caramtec, and has a pinkish hue. On the acetabular side, a titanium-alloy shell shaped like a hemispheric cup press-fits into the reamed-out socket, and then a durable plastic (technically, cross-linked ultra-high-molecular-weight polyethylene) liner fits inside that metal cup.

So that the metal can join with my skeleton, part of the stem and shell have a coating of a substance called commercially-pure titanium. Bone can fuze with this porous layer, no cement needed, joining the natural with the artificial. “Bone looks at this surface and kinda sees itself,” Dorr, who’s replaced about 7,000 hips and 5,000 knees, explains. A few weeks post-op, immature bone will have already started growing into the metal. “I never figured out why bone is so dumb,” Dorr lightheartedly says. Grow into the titanium? Sure, why not.

A disjointed journey

Titanium and polyethylene are, of course, relatively modern developments. In the 1940s and ‘50s, both the materials and the procedure were in their infancies.

One early artificial hip came from a surgeon named Austin Moore. But his version was just a half hip: a metal replacement on the femur side, no artificial socket. “None of them were very effective,” Dorr says. Part of the problem was how doctors attached the implant to the femur. “You just kinda pounded the stems into the bone.” The implants could work loose. Plus, the prosthesis fit directly into the natural socket—metal against bone. Ouch. “It probably was only 30 to 40 percent successful,” Dorr estimates.

Moore’s material selection process was also fairly homespun. Legend has it, when deciding whether to make the implant out of cobalt chrome or stainless steel, he buried samples of both in his backyard. When he dug them back up, the steel had rust, but the cobalt chrome did not. (Moore even mounted one of his fake hips to his Chrysler as a hood ornament.) “I don’t think the FDA would pass that today,” quips Dorr.

By the 1960s, hip replacements began to take on their modern form, thanks largely to a British orthopedic surgeon named John Charnley. According to former Massachusetts General Hospital hip surgeon William Harris, Charnley had an “incredible single focus—nothing else in the world mattered except solving this problem: creating an artificial hip joint.”

Charnley’s choices weren’t all perfect, but he had the right idea about a couple key things. First, he used bone cement to glue a metal implant into the femur. “That gave pain relief and a strong leg,” Dorr, of USC, says, “people could walk on it without limping.” Second, his first hips—he did about 300 in total—had an artificial socket so that the metal prosthesis wasn’t rubbing directly against the bone.

The best choice of material for the socket, however, still needed some figuring out. Charnley first tried Teflon, or polytetrafluoroethylene (PTFE), but it wore down quickly as the metal prosthesis rubbed against it, creating little particles. The connection between bone and implant didn’t hold up. “A loose implant like that hurts more than arthritis,” Dorr says. “The particulate debris kind of acts like a poison to the bone.”

Eventually, Charnley landed on a plastic called high-density polyethylene. It didn’t wear down as rapidly as Teflon, which he confirmed by testing the materials in his own leg. “After nine months in situ, the two PTFE specimens are clearly palpable as nodules,” he wrote in a letter to the Lancet. “They are almost twice the volume of the original implant.” Polyethylene had no such problem. Though it’s unclear when Charnley did the self-experiment, he completed his in-vivo testing before he put the new plastic in patients, a practice he began in 1962.

But even though Charnley’s invention got the basic conceit right, polyethylene eventually started causing serious problems for patients. Like Teflon, it wore down—just much more slowly—setting off a chain reaction in the body. Macrophages, a part of the immune system, gobbled up the plastic bits, which in turn led another type of cell, osteoclasts, to eat up nearby bone. The result is a problem called osteolysis, in which an implant can loosen, and the bone around it can even break.

“[It] was disastrous for many thousands of people and seriously disrupted the lives of more than a million,” writes biographer Harris in Vanishing Bone: Conquering a Stealth Disease Caused by Total Hip Replacements. He goes on to describe a patient who, in 1980, less than a decade after her total hip replacement, felt her leg bone simply snap while she was walking.

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During the ‘90s, three teams, including one led by Harris, all worked separately to find a better material. Harris in particular was motivated because he’d had to reoperate on patients who had received artificial hips. “I told them to have the operation, and then the damned thing failed,” he remembers. Those complicated operations, called revision surgeries, could last as long as 12 hours.

Eventually, the groups each earned patents for cross-linked polyethylene, a plastic that’s made more durable at the molecular level. It’s now in millions of modern artificial hips. Under an electron microscopic, regular ultra-high-molecular-weight polyethylene looks like long strands of simple molecules of carbon and hydrogen wrapped and entangled with each other, but not firmly connected. Cross-linking causes adjacent molecules to connect with one another via strong covalent bonds in many different places, toughening the material. After cross-linking, the plastic hip liner is like “one huge polyethylene molecule,” says Harry McKellop, an orthopedic and biomechanical engineer and former VP of research at the Orthopedic Institute for Children in Los Angeles.

For today’s patients, the difference is measurable. The new stuff provides a 90-to-95 percent reduction in annual wear. In one double-blind study in New Zealand, patients who’d had old polyethylene hips for 10 years experienced an annual wear rate of 0.27 millimeters, while those with the cross-linked stuff wore at an average of just 0.03 millimeters per year. A recent paper in the Lancet found that 58 percent of the hips in its study lasted 25 years. Bear in mind, however: That number includes implants that predate the newest material, so the survival rate of modern models will likely rise; “Everything we’ve seen to date suggests that they are doing better,” says study author Jonathan Evans.

But, “the holy grail is the hundred-year poly,” says Roy Davidovitch, the surgeon at NYU Langone Orthopedic Hospital who did my hip replacement. “If you could do that, you could basically put in one hip replacement, and hopefully that will be it, and you could do it on younger and younger patients.”

Getting more hip

Today, a surgery that began with hundreds of failures is routine. In 2014—the most recent year for which data is available—370,770 people in the United States got a new hip. That number is increasing steadily: According to one recent study, by the year 2030, an estimated 635,000 people will receive a new artificial hip every year in the U.S.

It’s common, but is still major surgery. “You’re ripping out a big segment of the body, and replacing it mechanically—that is a massive assault on the human body,” Mass General’s Harris reflects. “And yet it has an extraordinary success rate.”

While decades of incremental improvement have zeroed in on the right materials and operative techniques for gifting patients with a synthetic joint, there’s still work to be done to perfect it. Today, one of the biggest problems with artificial hips is that they’re easier to dislocate than natural ones. Another is infection—a human-made hip has no blood flow, so bacteria can accumulate on it. Researchers are working on a fix, says Michael Alexiades, an orthopedic surgeon at the Hospital for Special Surgery in New York. One strategy is to “coat the implant with an antibiotic that’s bonded to the metal,” he says, which then can be released locally under the right circumstances. “That’s still in very early stages.”

RELATED: We now have the power to make bones nearly invisible

Ultimately, everyone is trapped in their body until they die. But when body parts start to fail, if it’s the right part, you can get a new one: Doctors can also swap out knees, shoulders, elbows, ankles, wrists, even the discs in your spine.

My new hip was installed in me in the morning in the springtime, and I went home later that day. It’s my third hip surgery, but the first I feel actually worked. It was a more dramatic operation than an arthroscopic one, but the recovery has been much easier. I’ve been in physical therapy for about 11 months, and, while I’m not totally pain free, my joint finally feels better. I’m glad that the nature-given part of me is gone. I’m glad the metal and plastic and ceramic is there in its place. For the first time in years, I have hope for my hip.

Written By Rob Verger

[transboygenius]

SE4SON: Chapter 14

Nick, donned in his suit of armor, was now outside of the border, riding on Butterscotch's back. They were now on their way to find the mine. The two have been on the trail for almost 50 minutes. Nick was starting to grow bored. He was very tired from waking up so early, and hungry, since he skipped breakfast too. He sure feels sorry that Jimmy, Diana, and Rodent Girl will have to eat whatever Benson cooks up for them. He hates to just leave his best friend without telling him, but maybe Diana will cover for him. No longer wanting to bear with his hunger, he took the apple out of his satchel, then lifted the visor of his helmet. But before Nick could take a bite, Butterscotch came to a stop.

Nick clumsily fell off the horse, and dropped his apple. He slammed face first into a wooden sign that said "Jewel Mine. No Admittance." The armored boy looked out into the distance to discover the mining cave ahead, guarded by a lonesome, chunky, yet muscular, man playing an accordion. Butterscotch helped Nick up by biting hold of his plume. As thanks, he gently stroked the stallion's snout. He took a deep breath, then closed his visor.

"This won't take long, boy. Well, I think it will. I have no experience in mining. But I do have experience in sneaking into places I'm prohibited from."

The young boy then marched towards the cave. As soon as they parted, Butterscotch ate the apple that Nick had just dropped. The Keeper of the Mine stopped playing his instrument when he saw a miniature knight heading his way to the mine.

"Halt! Who dares to set foot into the King's royal treasury mine!" "You mean, you don't recognize an authority of the king when you see one?"

Nick withdrew the fake badge from his satchel, and presented it as proof to the Keeper. The man walked up to Nick, so he could observe the small knight further. From the inside of the suit, Nick's eyes read "fear," and he was sweating like a hog. For a split second, he pictured a noose in his head.

"How old are you, son?" "I'm 45! Midgets deserve proper representation too, ya know!" "That so. Then why hasn't your voice cracked yet?" "*Gulp* It's a stable vocal condition!" "You mean you're ill?" "No, I'm not sick, and nor can this even be cured! I have no control over how I sound!" "You're trying to tell me... ...that YOU'RE HEXED?!" "No, NO! Magic, witchcraft, or cult stuff, is all just fictional! The reason I sound like I'm twelve is that a condition... It's similar to an illness... No, I don't think they're the same. It's sorta a medical thing... Or a science thing... I wish I haven't slept through most of my biology periods." "You sound worse than I thought! You really must be ill! Or hexed! Come! I shall take you to a specialist-" "Can a 45 year-old man just do his job in peace so he could feed his wife and 16 children?! I came all the way out here to fill-in a mineral inspection for the king, not to be pestered by the likes of a measly peasant! Either you let me in, or I'll report this rubbish to King Jason himself!"

Despite how confident Nick's voice came out, he was still afraid behind that helmet.

"Oh. OHHHHHHHHHHH. Why didn't you say so in the first place?" "(I literally came to you in a suit of armor with a badge!! Isn't that enough to convince you?!)" "Enter, as you wish." "Thanks. You know, King Jason has been talking about you lately. Did you know you're one of his favorite guys?" "('One of his favorite guys,' bah. The only thing that old tyrant can do to make me happy is by hanging from his own noose.)"

Nick let out a mental sigh of relief. He thought it'd be more of a challenge to get passed him. Bless Diana for the costume, and the badge. The entrance to the mine was a downward, sloped path. Just by taking one step, Nick, again, clumsily fell down.

"You need some help there, sir?" Asked the man. "I'm an adult! I can take care of myself! Don't worry about me, Old Timer! Man's gotta do what a man's gotta do." Replied Nick.

After getting back up on his feet, he grabbed a pickax that happened to be lying around, took the lantern out from his satchel, then wandered deep into the tunnel. He's gonna do this for Jimmy. He's gonna do this for his home. The boy's not gonna rest until he brings back some quartz.

...........................

[*Back at the hut*]

"We're just about done! Not quite what I was hoping for, but... Boy, that glue really sticks!" Said Jimmy. "Yep! I told you we didn't need to waste more planks!" Replied Diana.

The time machine was rebuilt back in one piece, only this time, Diana and RG ended up making it look like an outhouse. Jimmy tried to be avoidant on any remarks that would offend his team. Speaking of team, he wonders how Nick is doing. It has been an hour already, and Jimmy hasn't heard from him since that issue with the cockroach.

"Nick's been really quiet lately." Said Jimmy. "Well, you know how tweenagers are. I certainly don't." Replied Diana. "I wonder what's keeping him busy, and why hasn't he left the hut yet?" "Well... You know how tweenagers are." "You've already said that." "See! I told you I don't know anything about them!" "I'm gonna go check on him-" "NO! I--I just remembered! After I splattered that little pest all over the floor, the young lad decided to take a nap!" "I suppose that does make sense. Nobody awake can be quiet for that long, except Sheen during an Ultralord rerun marathon, and he has woken up much earlier than on schedule. Now that I think of it, *Yawn*, sleep's starting to get to me, too." "And maybe you can get some, now that all the work has been done! You deserve a nice, long, rest!"

Benson eventually came out of the house, with a tray of muffins.

"Anyone care for a poppyseed muffin?" Spoke Benson. "Did Nick make those?" Asked Rodent Girl. "No. I did, of course." "Pass!" "How's Nick doing in there, by the way?" Questioned the tired genius. "Nick-?"

Diana quickly changed the subject.

"Hey, BENSON, look what we just repaired! I know you weren't awake to see it broken, but we fixed it! Just thought you'd like to see what we accomplished!" "Oh. My."

Benson walked up to the time "outhouse" to get a better look. It was frankly hideous, and hilarious you might add, but just like Jimmy, he kept his unpleasant remarks to himself.

"It really is... ...something! Oh well. It's the thought that counts, right?"

Benson patted on the machine two times, and it collapsed back into debris, but in smaller pieces. Jimmy almost fainted for a second. He was looking forward to that long nap, and now they have to start all over.

"Alright. I surrender. I'll get the wooden planks." Said Diana. "I'll get some more coffee." Said Rodent Girl. "I'll... ...try to leave you three alone. I'd help, but there's much cleaning to be done." Said Benson.

...........................

[*Back in time*]

Sheen and Libby were walking together, following an address written on a tiny sheet of paper.

"This is it, Sheen. We here."

The two reached their destination: A commoners' apartment building, or as Nick likes to call "home." Sheen never expected Nick to live in somewhere so rundown. Nick's popular, used to be anyways, so he envisioned him to live in some condo, or at least a normal house like all his other friends. Popularity doesn't mean rich, Sheen! At this time and place, by sheer coincidence, they met up with Carl, who was attaching more flyers, along with Goddard.

"Came here to highlight more of my pain?" Carl whined. "What are you talking about? We're just here to look for any clues about Nick and where the heck is he." Libby responded. "You'd rather look for him than your own friend?!" "We're looking for both, Carl." "Technically, she's looking for both. I'm just looking for Nick." Said Sheen. "What?! I-- Why, Sheen?! I feel like I don't know you anymore! How can you care for him more than Jimmy?!" Again, Carl whined. "One thing for sure: He's more nicer to me than Jimmy." "You two aren't even friends! He hasn't gotten your name right yet!" "Buuuuuuuuut, he's never picked me last in basketball!" "You know what, Sheen? If you don't wanna consider Jimmy as a friend anymore..."

A long silence paused between them.Libby looked at each of them awkwardly, back and forth. What happened between them, and what does it have to do with Jimmy? Sheen sounds like he has lost his respect for Jimmy. The boy genius sure gave himself an infamous reputation for making more enemies than friends. Libby feels she should have a say in this, but the trouble is, she doesn't know what to say. Her words could make it worse, anyways.

"...I don't think I wanna be yours, either!!" "No, no Carl! You surely don't mean it!" "I DO! ANYONE WHO'S NOT A FRIEND OF JIMMY IS NO FRIEND OF MINE! C'mon, Goddard!" "W-Wait! Carl! CARL!"

Carl refused to listen to Sheen furthermore, and decided to take his flyers someplace else. Goddard followed him. The robotic hound turned his head towards Sheen and Libby, hesitated for a bit, then tagged along behind Carl.

"I think you should-" Said Libby, before Sheen cut her off. "Nah. I think it's best that we let him be. Give him time to blow off some steam, er. He'll come crawling back eventually. He always does."

The duo entered the building, took a lift on the elevator (with a creepy man holding a poodle), then walked down the aisle to look for Nick's apartment number. When they found the door they've been searching for, Libby rang the doorbell. Nick's mom answered right away.

"What can I do for you, children?" Asked Nick's mother. "Huh. So that's what his mom sounds like! I had no idea she had an accent." Said Sheen.

Libby nudged Sheen for being rude, even though he didn't intend to.

"*Ahem* Good evening, Mrs. Dean. We were hoping you could let us in so we could invest for clues that might give us answers to the disappearance of your son. If you don't mind." "Oh, I know you two! You go to the same school as Nick! Let me see here... Libby! ...and Shine!" "Sheen!" Barked Sheen. "And as a matter of fact, I don't mind at all. Nice to find more people who actually care to help find my son. Go on right in! Just don't disturb me too much. I'm trying to print more flyers."

After Libby and Sheen stepped in, one sentence, said by Mrs. Dean herself, crossed Libby's mind. Mrs. Dean mentioned Libby and Sheen as the "more people" who actually care about Nick's whereabouts. Where are his friends? Does he have any other relatives in Retroville? As a matter of fact, all the kids have questioned about where Nick has gone, but never bothered to look for him. The same applies for Jimmy.

The two looked around the apartment for a short while. Sheen looked at some random objects that had nothing to do with the case, and then raided the fridge. Libby looked at a couple of photos. Some were of Nick in his current age, and some of Nick at a younger age. He had the same curtain hair style back then, only a more shorter cut. All of them had Nick smiling in each and every picture, except the ones where he's with a man she's not familiar with. It's more likely that the man in the photos could be Nick's father, especially since he bears some of his features. He probably isn't such a good father, judging by how sad little Nick looks. Whatever he has done to his son, now she figured out why Nick never wants to talk about his dad.

Another photo Libby came upon was an adorable shot of Nick, possibly around 9-10, decorating a cake, and next to it, a shot of Nick mixing a big pot over a hot stove.

"That's cute. Does Nick help you around the kitchen very often?" "Oh, no, he cooks himself." "Nick... ...cooks?" "Uh-huh. He makes his own meals, and sometimes he shares them with me. The food always taste better than how I prepare them. Heh-heh." "Nick can cook?!" Sheen asked, a little late.

There seems to be a lot about Nick they don't know, but how deeper will they dig? To investigate further, Libby and Sheen decided to check his bedroom.

"Promise me you won't make a mess. I just cleaned two days ago." Said Mrs. Dean. "No promises!" Replied Sheen.

Sheen shoved half of his body under the bed. Libby looked around the room, opening drawers. Sheen found a few things under the bed that couldn't interest anyone. He found lint, laundry that hasn't been washed for months, and DVDs of old 80s cartoons and anime.

"Poor kid. Still watches DVDs. And cartoons from 100 years ago."

He also found a stuffed teddy bear. Big bad Nick, in possession of something soft and cuddly? First the 80s toons and anime, now this. Sheen took out his phone and began taking pictures, for blackmail use in the future. As the boy continued searching under the bed, the last thing he found was a sketchbook. All the drawings were lineart of happy things in gloom, such as a melting rainbow, and an alcoholic bunny rabbit. Nick must've had an emo phase, Sheen thought. The only non-depressing sketch in the whole book was a huge heart, with "ND + JN" written in the center.

"Don't know anybody named ND or JN, but it's good to know that Nick supports them! Wait, isn't JN that same clown who put the notes all over Jimmy's lab? I wonder what this ND person has in store for me."

Back to Libby, she looked through Nick's drawers to find any clues. All she found were clothes, underwear, and socks. She decided to check the closet next. As always, she found more clothes, and shoes. But, far in the corner of the closet, she noticed a cardboard box. She reached out and grabbed the box. When she opened it, it was full of The Amazing Insect-Man comics. ...the old-school kind. Libby never thought of Nick being into comic books about superheroes in tights. He said so himself that he finds them to be dweeb-ish. Well, guess he's a closet comic book fan. Get it? Get it?

"Oh. Insect-Man. The inferior one in contrary to the awesome might of Ultralord. Ugh. Why does Nick have such bad taste? No wonder he's become washed up!" Sheen commented.

Curious, Libby looked into the comics to see why Nick finds interest in them. There were so many things to list that Nick could see himself in. 1. The title character is a Brazilian American (Well, Afro Brazilian American, but still). 2. Insect-Man/Frankie Fender didn't have a girlfriend like most superheroes, and sought no attraction in any of the female characters. 3. Frankie prefers being Insect-Man more than his real identity. As Insect-Man, he has crowds all around him, and he is loved by most. As Frankie, he is just everybody's least favorite geeky loser. People don't love you for yourself, depending on who yourself is. As quoted by Frankie Fender (aka, Insect-Man).

The last place neither Sheen or Libby haven't checked yet was Nick's writing desk. Agreeing to improvise, Libby went to check the drawers, while Sheen went into the waste basket, which was full of crumbled up paper. Libby happened to discover a picture of Jimmy hidden away. Why does Nick even have this picture? He does respect him more than anybody else, but she didn't know he was that fond of him. Jimmy keeps Nick's phone number on him, so does he feel the same way? Libby can't imagine these two as besties. They don't have anything in common, aside from they both take their hair seriously. Wherever they be, maybe they both opened up a salon together, somewhere. Then, abruptly, Libby heard Sheen crying.

"Sheen? What's wrong, baby?" "I take back what I said about Nick having bad taste. That boy is a literature genius! Look at this! I haven't cried this much since the death of ToyBoy, and Ultralord #68 volume 2 where Ultralord meets his long lost deceased father only to find out he's been reincarnated as a fascist politic!" "Where'd you get that?" "From the trash."

While Sheen continued to weep his eyes out, Libby observed the sheet of paper from him. He was right. The writing was beautiful, and tearjerking. This short story perfectly draws out the experience of having an unrequited crush, and accepting the fate that you two will never be together because you hasn't the chance. Libby has been on that road long ago. But then, she stopped indulging into the story when she re-read it and found Cindy's name mentioned. She put the paper down on the desk to look for anything else connected to this writing. The top drawer contained an envelope with Jimmy's name written in cursive, addition to a heart shaped dot over the i. She examined the three pieces collected: The envelope, the picture, and the short story.

Having a brain blast of her own, it turns out the short story isn't a short story at all, but a love letter. Libby thought this was just a dumb theory, but looks like her theory was true. It has all made sense since the beginning. Nick hardly talks to girls. Whenever he's asked on a date, he'll only accept it if they're offering free stuff, or if they're paying for his meals. Cindy once tried this with concert tickets, until ruined by Jimmy. He doesn't mind performing with girls, but only because it's beneficial. He does flirt with girls a bit, but gives them the cold shoulder afterwards. Back when him and Betty were dating, due to pressure pushed upon him by his male colleagues, the pairing had absolutely no chemistry, which resulted in them breaking up. No doubt about it: Nick Dean is gay.

"Did you find anything yet?" Asked Sheen, still sobbing. "Uhhhhhh.... Nope! Didn't found nothin'. This is a waste of time! Let's just go home." Replied Libby.

Nick's secret is safe with her. Libby and Sheen have already snooped through all his personals, but she didn't wanna go that far as to snitching on the poor kid.

..........................

[*Back in medieval*]

Nick can't tell by now, but the afternoon is slowly arriving. The boy has been prying apart any rock face he came faced with. His arms were starting to hurt and he just wanted to rest, but that didn't stop him. No such luck, but that didn't mean he didn't find anything. Earlier, he struck some diamonds, but then he threw them out because they weren't what he was looking for. After that, he registered gravel, which piled all over him. Some of it got into his armor. Then 10 minutes later, he got chased by bats (and screamed like a girl again). Nick was making no progress, but that doesn't mean he's ready to give up. All of a sudden, Nick then stopped at his rock prying. He forgot...

"I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT QUARTZ LOOKS LIKE!"

Nick dropped the pickax and sat himself down on the cold floor. He knows for a fact that quartz is suppose to be a gem, but he's never seen one. He's only familiar with diamonds, rubies, sapphires, but they don't really qualify as quartz, according to Jimmy's knowledge. Is quartz a type of gem, or does it come in many varieties? It could probably take him months before he could get his hands on some quartz, and Nick's not gonna stay in this clunky and smelly armor for that long. Now might be the best time to throw in the towel.

Although, Nick is not prepared to go back to the hut and face Jimmy. He'll just make himself look like an idiot to him. Continuing to do good deeds for Jimmy when he told him not to, and then coming home empty handed. Maybe Jimmy hasn't noticed that he left yet. Maybe Nick could just take off the armor, and pretend as though he never left. However, that will never get the failure off his conscience. All he wanted to do was show Jimmy he is worthy enough to him. Eh. Maybe he's just overdoing it. The boy genius appreciates him enough already. No need to be perfect.

“Tsk tsk tsk, pathetic.”

Daniel had then reentered Nick's mind.

“I always knew you couldn't do it. And you should know that, cuz I'm always right. I'm always better than you. Face it, Nicky boy. If you were meant to surpass my standards, your whole image wouldn't have gone downhill. You couldn't hold on to your popularity because the only thing you're good at is failing. You're a born loser. Bastard children are suppose to be losers, for it is punishment by God to kids he had no intention of creating. The poor, worthless, lonely, f*ggot. Is worthless from the start, and will be worthless to the end. Good luck trying to impress a boy who doesn't want your d*ck.”

Nick got up and angrily bashed the rock face with his pickax to cope with his rage.

"It is all your fault. You manage to make me care about how much other people would think of me, even when you're not here! You're the reason why I became so unhappy with myself! I could've had a normal childhood with real friends, but all I got was stress and depression! Worse, you made me feel afraid of my own sexuality, because you convinced me that my way of love is wrong! Disgusting! Abnormal! And I believed you! I'M F*CKIN' TIRED OF HIDING OUT! LET ME HAVE MY LIFE!"

With all his strength put in, he dug himself a deep hole, while jabbing his pickax hard enough for it to stick there. Nick paused for a moment, taking deep breaths. That was all he needed to let out his anger. Now's the time to just head home, without claiming his prize. But...

As Nick retrieved his pickaxe back, some glowly, golden light shined out from the hole. At first Nick thought it was just regular gold, which would make no use to Jimmy. The boy opened his visor and poked his eye into the hole. Gold is most known to be conceived as metal, but this type of gold had more of a shiny, rocky substance to it. Nick crossed his fingers, and then pried at the hole, to reach towards that golden light.

.............................

Later, Nick crawled out of the mine, and ran straight to Butterscotch.

"The king will be very proud, good sir! Perhaps he'll give you a bonus!" Shouted Nick, to the Keeper. "(Bonus, huh. What I really need is a decent day-off.)"

When Nick had reached Butterscotch, the horse had fallen asleep. Nick wasn't gonna wait until this dumb stallion wakes up, so he took the carrots out of his satchel, and hung them in front of Butterscotch's nostrils. The horse opened one eye, then closed it again, ignoring the carrots. He was tired, not hungry.

"C'moooooooon, Butterscotch. If you wake up and take me back to Diana, I'll play checkers with you!"

The horse continued to slumber.

"How 'bout I bake something for you instead? Huh? Would an oat cake sound nice?"

Nick has finally came to Butterscotch. The white stallion fully awakened, standing on his two hind legs, and neighing at the top of his lung so that everyone could hear him.

............................

[*At the hut*]

Diana, Jimmy, and Rodent Girl finished rebuilding the time machine, except this one looked like the one Jimmy and Nick built together, as if it were never destroyed. Rodent Girl eventually passed out when her caffeine rush worn off, and the boy genius was ready to collapse any second now.

"wE dId It. It LoOkS gReAt. We DiD gReAt. CaN't WaIt To FiRe Up ThIs BaBy." Said Jimmy. "You don't look too good. I think you better sleep it off and restore your strength." Replied Diana. "bUt... I wAnT nIcK tO cOmE sEe It." "I'm sure he can go look at it on his own. Rest now." "nO. i WaNt To ShOw HiM mYsElF..."

Jimmy was about to fall, but Diana caught him in time. She carried the sleepy little boy in her arms and took him into the barn. She set him down on the hay bed, then put the blanket over his body. Poor little fella has worn himself out, but still yarns for Nick's presence. Speaking of Nick, he has been gone for quite so long. Diana thought she should go check on him, to make sure he's okay.

"I HAVE RETURNED!"

Nick, riding on Butterscotch's back, burst through the door of the hut, like a hero back from the war. Nick? When Jimmy heard his best friend's voice, he shot out of bed and ran outside. As Nick caught Jimmy in sight, he got off of Butterscotch, then opened his visor so that the boy genius could recognize him.

"Nick, what are you wearing?"

Instead of answering Jimmy's question, he walked right up to him. He got down on one knee so that he could face Jimmy eye-to-eye at his length. Nick took out the tiny sack from his satchel, then the tiny box, and opened it to reveal the treasure Jimmy's been seeking to. By the angle Diana and Benson gazed at them from, the scene resembled a man making a marriage proposal to his partner. Jimmy's blue eyes marveled at the golden rock. It was rutilated quartz.

"This isn't one of those good deeds," Nick lied, "I just wanna go home as badly as you do, so I thought I'd save us time."

Jimmy grinned, and stared at his friend dreamily. He should be upset with Nick for going out there to the mine without him, but by this certain way he feels towards him, knowing he did it out of an act of care, he somehow couldn't. The real important thing that matters is that Nick's back okay. Jimmy threw himself at Nick, again embracing into another hug. Nick wrapped a single arm around his friend, returning the hug back. Diana and Benson were both touched by this warm moment. Jimmy and Nick's relationship reminded Benson of this certain duo from a long time ago, but he can't seem to put his finger on it.