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midnightcreator12 · 8 months

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And We'll Keep Marching On Chapter 2 - Unexpected Guests

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Donatello had to focus very, very hard on keeping his hand steady.

Because the rudimentary patch job he’d done in New York would not keep Leo stable all the way to Northampton and a lot of his injuries needed stitches and he couldn’t make one mistake because he’d already messed up so bad-

Donnie paused to focus on his breathing, forcing his hands to still and not cling to the needle so tightly.

“You good?”

Donnie only spared a glance towards Casey, keeping his focus and line of sight firmly on his hands and…and on Leo, “Have to be.”

Casey hummed. A surprisingly tame answer to his usual bluster. But…he hadn’t been acting like himself ever since Leo…since April’s apartment.

Case in point, he was still in the van with Donnie.

Once the city had disappeared from the horizon, Donnie had made the request for them to pull over for a bit, citing that he needed to treat Leo more thoroughly before they went any further.

Raph had nodded and ushered Mikey out of the van the moment Casey had stopped at an abandoned rest stop. April had gone with them, bringing the smaller first aid kit with her.

Donnie had been expecting Casey to follow them out as well but the boy had just turned in his seat, resting his elbows on his knees and his chin in his palms, watching quietly as Donnie removed his hand and wrist wrappings, washed his hand with a water bottle and a bit of soap and unpacked the larger first aid kit.

Donnie had not commented on it, his attention more centered on…stitching up Leo.

Everything had gone so wrong so quickly, that Donatello was still having trouble processing it all.

The Kraang had taken over New York, had infiltrated their home, they’d lost Splinter, April lost her dad again, Casey hadn’t been able to find his family and Leo…

Leo was more black, blue, and red than green. His limbs were covered in cuts and gashes, many having dug in deep enough to need stitches. There were also bruises, red and angry and painful looking, molting Leo’s scales in ugly patterns.

But the worst were the two massive gashes on his shoulder.

The parallel cuts were deep, almost to the bone by Donnie’s guess. They cleaved downward, chipping off the top edge of Leo’s plastron before the protective plating was too thick for the blades to penetrate. But the force was still enough to leave very clear indents, marring Leo’s shell in a way that would take years to heal over.

If it ever did.

Donnie swallowed again, took another breath, forced his mind away from the only person who could have caused that injury and started mentally reciting the decimals of pi as he lowered his hands.

He expected Leo to react when the needle pierced his skin. They didn’t need stitches often, but the feeling was always unpleasant and…as much as he hated it, giving Leo any sort of sedative could do more harm than good with the clear bruising around his jaw and the back of his head and a deep, sluggishly bleeding cut on his temple speaking of bad head injuries.

But Leo didn’t even twitch when the needle slid through his scales. Donnie knew he should be grateful for the fact that Leo didn’t feel it as he was stitched back together. But the lack of reaction made something unpleasant twist in his gut.

Leo’s body…his nervous system should still react to simulation, especially anything that sent the signal for ‘pain’ up to his brain. But each stitch Donnie added was met with cool scales that stayed perfectly still under his bloodying hands.

Damnit, he didn’t bring gloves. He should have brought gloves for this, that bit of bottled water and soap wasn’t anywhere close to sterile enough. Leo could get an infection and it would be Donnie's fault because he was stupid and failed-

His vision started to blur.

Donnie’s hands jerked back as he blinked, trying to force the sudden blurriness from his vision. He couldn’t afford this right now, Leo needed him and he was failing again-

He raised a hand, intending to rub at his eyes-

But it was red with blood. He couldn’t wipe his face, there was blood on his hans. He had blood on his hands. Leo’s blood. Leo’s blood was on his hands-

Donnie startled harshly when something scratchy pressed against his cheek.

He whipped his head around to find a blob of grays and black…that slowly refined itself into Casey.

He had moved from the front seats at some point, now crouched on the balls of his feet next to Donnie, one arm outstretched and holding…an old rag.

Donnie blinked again and it suddenly clicked that his vision was blurry because of tears.

He was crying. Damnit, he was crying when he had to help Leo and it was in front of Casey Jones of all people-

“Hold still, would ya?” Casey muttered, scooching closer. “You need to see to fix Leo up, right?”

Donnie…was confused.

Casey never passed on a chance to make fun of him. He had a knack for spotting any weakness and using it against people in the form of backhanded nicknames and snide remarks. Donnie had quite a few monikers given to him by none other than Casey.

But Casey wasn’t teasing or poking, calling Donnie a crybaby or overly emotional…he was trying to help Donnie clear his eyes so he could finish treating Leo.

Under most circumstances, Donnie might have refused the help, probably would have hurled an insult or several to get Casey to back away as quickly as possible.

But he couldn’t wipe his face without smearing…blood everywhere.

So he tipped his chin down and let Casey rub the rag over his eyes. He sniffed, blinking hard to get rid of the last of the moisture before bending over Leo again.

He tried to hold the rest back. It was bad enough that he’d needed Casey to wipe tears from his face, he didn’t need to give him any more ammunition for a later date.

But by the time Donnie was tying off the stitches on the first shoulder gash, the tears were building again. Enough that his work would be hindered if he didn’t wipe them away.

He straightened again, turned in Casey’s general direction.

His breathing caught in his chest.

Then again, as Casey wiped his face.

And by the time he was looking back at Leo, a small, broken whine slipped out.

He locked his jaw, angry at himself for breaking when Leo needed him, but more quiet keening sounds forced their way between his teeth. His shoulders hunched in embarrassment but his hands kept working.

It didn’t matter if he was having a breakdown in front of his rival. Leo needed him, he needed to help Leo. He’d take whatever Casey dished out later. He had to. He was the only one who could close all the open wounds marring their leader.

Slowly killing their big brother.

Casey was silent as Donnie cried and kept completely still unless Donnie needed his tears cleared away again. A part of Donnie was grateful for that, glad that Casey had enough emotional tact to not pick and prod at this moment.

It felt like hours before Donnie was finally done, fingers numb from the delicate work and neck stiff from being bent down for so long. He wrapped bandages over all the new stitches and the smaller cuts, watching Leo’s face the entire time for any sign of a reaction.

But Leo’s face stayed lax an blank, not even pinching a little when Casey heaved his torso up so Donnie could wrap his shoulder. His scales were still chilly to the touch and his breathing was raspy and slow. It was even, which gave Donnie a little comfort, but each pause between inhales and exhales was far too long to be normal.

But he couldn’t…do much.

He’d only been able to take smaller medical equipment with him when they cleared out the Lair, anything that would go in the aid kits either being too large or busted from the Kraang. Which meant he didn’t have anything to examine Leo internally beyond his homemade stethoscope.

He could only treat what he could see. If something was wrong below the surface level-

Donnie hiccuped on his next breath, eyes drifting from Leo to his own lap. To his hands in his lap. His hands that were still gloveless and covered in red-

The van door slid open noisily as Casey shoved it. Donnie looked up to be greeted by Casey holding out another bottle of water, “Get all that gunk off you before Mikey gets back. He might freak.”

Right. Right, Mikey would get upset if he came back to Donnie covered in blood.

Luckily, it seemed that he, Raph and April had gone inside the rest stop, probably to both look for useable supplies and to give Donnie plenty of space. So Donnie scooted his way out, shivering when his feet hit the sun-warmed ground.

He snapped up the rag and water, using both to scrub the blood away, letting it fall to the ground in a waterfall of pinkish water.

When he was done, he reached back into the van, grabbing his wrappings and replacing them around his damp wrists and fingers, running his palms over the familiar texture to recenter himself. Ground himself back in the here and now and not what ifs and maybes.

He turned to Casey, who was leaning against the van, eyes firmly fixed on Leo while Donnie pulled himself back together.

He absently wondered if this was as close to kind as the other teen got.

He found himself grateful for it.

He took one last breath, rubbed his hands down his face and climbed back into the van. Casey waited until Donnie was sitting, knees hugged firmly into his chest, before pushing off the van and strolling around it, hollering for April and the guys to get back in before he left them behind.

Donnie tucked his chin to his chest as everyone returned and climbed back in.. His eyes drifted to his brother's as the engine rumbled back to life, taking in the injuries that had been patched while he was taking care of Leo.

Mikey had gotten off the easiest, with only minor cuts and bruises that would heal in a few days. He probably would be sore, heaving a couch out a window had definitely caused him to pull some muscles, but there wasn’t much they could do for that except for a hot bath.

Raph was a little worse off since he’d been out with Casey when the invasion started. His shell still had a few scorch marks and one ankle had been bandaged. He also sported a massive bruise and scrapes down one arm, likely from a bad landing from a high point.

Casey had similar scraps on the bits of skin he left exposed, probably bruising too. April had gotten rattled around with the rest of them in the Turtle Mech but Donnie had not seen any serious injuries on her.

All in all, they would be recovered in no time…except for Leo.

Donnie hugged his legs closer to himself, as if it would make the situation better, like it could block out the slow, raspy breaths of their oldest brother, beaten and bloodied and still unresponsive to anything.

Donnie shivered.

He knew, logically, the chances of Leo waking up right then were low. But a part of him still clung to the hope that Leo would defy the odds again. That he’d just sit up and ask if everyone was okay and start mother-henning them and come up with a brilliant and crazy plan to drive all the Kraang from New York.

But he didn’t even twitch when the van hit a bump and Donnie didn’t have enough energy to call Casey out of jostling them.

He glanced at the other side of the backseat, where Mikey and Raph had curled around each other. Exhaustion was getting the better of Raph, pulling him into doze within minutes of the van moving on. His doze was slowly becoming actual sleep, pulling him sideways and almost completely on top of Mikey. The youngest clung to Raph, but he was wide awake and his eyes were fixed on Leo, like he would vanish if Mikey so much as blinked.

Donnie wanted to move over to them, lean on Raph’s other side and soak in at least a little comfort.

But Leo was hurt because he had fought with him…he didn’t deserve to be comforted. Not until he fixed this.

So he sat, only grunting in pain when the van went over bumps or dipped into potholes that made his bruised body and laser-burned arm tingle with discomfort.

He watched Leo every time, wishing he would at least make a distressed sound in response to the bumpy ride.

He never did. Hours later and he still hadn’t moved under his own will once.

“It’s down that road there,” April murmured to Casey at some point, voice hushed as if she was frightened to disturb the silence that had stayed firmly in place for the entire drive.

Casey just grunted in reply as he turned.

Donnie could hear when the road changed from old concrete to dirt and gravel. It was probably more of a very long driveway than a road because he doubted April would have suggested the farmhouse if there were neighbors close by.

Mikey reached up and carefully poked Raph's face. Donnie watched as he blinked sleepily, beak scrunching, brain still waking up as his eyes fell on Leo. And he saw when everything came rushing back and everything that had happened seemed to physically bore itself onto Raph shoulders.

His voice sounded almost hollow as he asked, "Where are we?"

"Northampton," the answer came out of Donnie automatically, the need to answer any question still persisting through his exhaustion.

Raph nodded slowly, eyes taking in the trees and cloudy sky through the windows, "'It’ll be dark soon."

"Yeah," Donnie agreed.

They all lapsed back into silence, only the rumble of the van's engine keeping it from being fully quiet.

Raph shifted, forcing Mikey to sit up more so both could be properly upright. Donnie shut his eyes, mentally running down a checklist of what he would need to do to help Leo when they reached April’s summer home.

It felt like too long and not long enough before Casey started to slow down.

Donnie opened his eyes again, sitting up to peer out the windshield.

The farmhouse was clearly old and not in the best condition but all the windows and doors seemed to be intact. He'd have to get inside to see about the utilities but he could get them power and water relatively easily.

Casey stopped in front of the house, as close as he could get to the porch. Donnie was up the moment they stopped, opening the van door as he spoke, "Stay with Leo. I need to find a place he can…recover."

He didn't wait to see if Raph or Mikey replied. He stepped out of the van, shoved down the little voice screaming in his head to hide from the open sunlight and joined April on the porch.

She was flipping the various decorations over, the rug, a broken flower pot, what was probably a lawn gnome at one point-

She grumbled as she stood, dusting her hands off, "Guess there isn't a hidden key."

"Here," Donnie grabbed his lock-picking tools from his belt. Sure, breaking the door would be faster but he kinda wanted it to stay intact and not be another thing he'd have to fix.

Except when he crouched and put a hand on the old wood, it swung open.

Donnie tensed, eyes snapping to April. She stared back, shoulders also going tight in alarm.

The door should not be unlocked.

Donnie moved first, pushing the door fully open as he readied his bò.

The entryway seemed empty. He could see a kitchen and living room but walls blocked most of his view. He tipped his head, listening for any footsteps or voices.

The house was dead quiet. But that didn't mean it was empty.

Donnie heard the quiet thump of Casey's gear, felt the teen's presence at his other shoulder.

Donnie raised a hand, gesturing towards the kitchen and living room. April and Casey moved without saying a word, splitting off to search the downstairs. Donnie moved towards the stairs, silently making his way up.

He kept close to the walls, blending into the shadows as much as he could, third eyelid sliding closed instinctively. The stairs took him to a small balcony and hallway holding four doors. He nudged open the first door, peering into a dusty bedroom with two beds. Nothing there looked disturbed so he moved to the next room.

The door was already wide open and the room beyond it was more of a glorified closet, with a bedframe and a beat-up nightstand being the only occupants.

Two down, two to go.

Donnie crept forward, eyes narrowing when he noticed the next door was firmly shut rather than cracked or opened.

He approached it, pausing to listen for any signs of life.

It was faint, would be unnoticed by anyone who hadn’t had extensive training in listening to their surroundings for anything and everything that was even a little off.

But he could hear it, a soft scraping sound that didn’t match the ambient noise of the house.

Donnie’s eyes narrowed, his jaw clicked. He pushed down the instinct to growl as he reached for the door handle.

He almost leaped back in shock when he shoved the door open and was greeted by the shrillest screeching sound he’d ever heard in his life.

He looked down, dancing backwards, still in mild shock as he realized exactly what was screeching at him.

It was a robot. A bird-like, white and muted purple, two-foot tall robot that was hopping on one leg and had a freaking taser sticking out of the other and was trying very hard to jab Donnie’s ankle with it.

It screeched again, the two antennas on its boxy head flapping up and down in a show of aggression, looking up at Donnie and, somehow, its giant lens eyes looked absolutely livid at being disturbed.

Donnie backed up another step and jabbed his staff down on the robot's body. It chirped in shock as it was pinning, taser leg still waving in the air and head now frantically swinging back and forth.

“Wait! W-wait, don’t hurt him!”

Donnie looked up, into what was apparently a bathroom, and his eyes widened further.

A girl was leaning on the far wall. She looked around his own age, with tan skin and dark, curly hair that hung in a tangled mess around her shoulders. She was wearing some kind of white scrubs, which were ripped in several places and discolored by patches of dirt and…maybe old blood?

Donnie would have inspected better, but what caught his attention the most was the very obvious Kraang blaster she had clutched in one hand and half raised towards him.

Footsteps thundered up the stairs and Casey vaulted over the last few, hockey stick at the ready, “Who the he- eeeeeck is that thing?!”

“Donnie! What’s going on up here?” April bounded up next, tensen at the ready.

And Donnie really wished he had an answer for her but…even he wasn’t fully sure.

His eyes snapped back into the bathroom when he heard a shift. The girl was slowly pulling herself up the wall, clearly favoring one side. And now that Donnie looked again, he saw that, yes, some of the dark stains on her clothing were from old wounds that were peeking from the tears, particularly on her side and leg.

She raised a hand, hazel eyes widening when the robot squealed again, “Please, d-don’t hurt him! He was just trying to protect me, please-”

“Who the heck are you?!” Casey shoved his way into the bathroom, pointing his stick at the girl. “And what are you doing here? And why do you have a Kraang gun?! You a spy or somethin’?”

“No!” the girl straightened at that, face twisting into anger. “I would never work with those shabuir’s! I just escaped their weird hellscape planet!”

“Yeah, right,” Casey huffed. “And I’m a possum.”

April shuffled closer so that she was next to Donnie. Her eyes narrowed and one hand slowly raised. Donnie waited, watching April’s face for any sign of their next move should be.

Because on the one hand, they really did not have the energy or time to chase off another person who may or may not be a threat to their team. But on the other, her injuries didn’t look fake and if she had escaped from Dimension X…

April frowned, expression confused as she leaned closer to Donnie, “I…I think she’s telling the truth but…it’s like there’s some kind of wall around her mind. It’s making it hard to read.”

Donnie’s brow pinched as he turned back to the bathroom. Casey glanced back, smacking the hockey stick into one hand, ready to chase her out once the word was given. Donnie looked at the girl, eyes narrowing further, “What are you doing here?”

“I just…I need somewhere to hunker down for a bit so I can get a signal to my team. I got portaled in the middle of the woods and…this is the first place I found.”

April’s expression hardened but didn’t comment.

Donnie glanced down at the gun the girl was still clutching, then at the squirming robot, “...you put that down and I’ll let him up, okay?”

“Are you serious-” Casey hissed. “We don’t know her or what she’s doin’ here man!”

The girl, not listening to Casey’s stage whisper, dropped the blaster without a hint of hesitation, even giving it a kick that sent it across the floor to Casey’s feet. She held up both hands, pleading eyes turning back to Donnie.

Slowly, he lifted his bo.

The robot was off in a flash, skittering under Casey and back to the girl, climbing up her non-injured leg and stopping on her shoulder, beeping and trilling angerly the entire way.

The girl visibly relaxed at the return of her robot, once again leaning against the wall and breathing out a soft, “Thank you.”

“Right,” Donnie murmured, stowing his bo. He grabbed April with one hand and scooped the laser gun up in the other. “Would you mind just…staying right there? Thanks.”

Donnie didn’t wait for a reply, practically flying back to the stairs with April, hoping that Casey would behave until they got back.

Raph was standing guard next to the van. His eyes snapped to Donnie when he came outside but he waited until he and April were off the bottom porch step before hissing out, “What the heck happened in there? And where did that thing come from?”

“So, short version?” Donnie said. “There is an injured teenager and a robot in the upstairs bathroom and she had this.” Donnie placed the blaster on the gravel between them. “She said she escaped from Dimension X.”

“Seriously?” Raph asked. “We cannot deal with this right now. Just…I don’t know, send her off somewhere else.”

“Raph,” April interrupted. “I couldn’t get a good read on her mind but…she seemed genuine from what I could sense. And scared.”

“So?” Raph asked.

The van door slid open and Mikey poked his head into the circle, “Dude, we can’t just throw her out! It’s almost winter and April said there isn’t anyone around for miles!”

“So just take her to town and drop her off, what’s the big deal?”

“It’s not just that,” Donnie added. “She saw me and she might have seen you too. If we take her to town and drop her off, we have no way to know if she’ll tell anyone or not.”

Raph paused, his bared teeth morphing into a thoughtful frown, “...we can’t risk that right now.”

They all subconsciously glanced at Leo’s prone form.

“So we keep her around?” Raph asked.

“...it’s not like we have a lot of options,” Donnie replied. “Plus, I would quite like to know where that robot she has came from. It doesn’t look like something the Kraang would make, but it’s way too advanced to be something from Earth.”

“Sweet, new friend,” Mikey grinned, but his tone lacked the usual enthusiasm he got when making new friends.

April nodded along with them, crossing her arms, “She also mentioned signaling people. We’ll need someone to keep an eye on her at all times, make sure she doesn’t do that.”

Donnie nodded, turning back to Raph and Mikey, “I only saw two bedrooms but neither one is set up properly. But the sooner we get Leo inside the better so we can put him on the couch for now.”

“Right,” Raph nodded, climbing into the van and kneeling at Leo’s head. “And I assume you’re gonna talk to our unexpected guest while we do that.”

“Yeah,” Donnie agreed. “Then I’ll get started making this place more livable. We’ll need to get water and power first and foremost. And I need to make sure we have reliable heat sources. Winter could get bad out here.”

April nodded, placing a hand on Donnie’s arm, “Thanks Donnie. I can show you where everything is…after.”

“Right,” After. After he made sure they weren’t at risk of being chased into the woods by the locals or aliens. After they got Leo settled somewhere to rest and heal…

Donnie left April to help move Leo, taking the stairs two at a time back to the bathroom.

He found Casey had moved into the hallway and had shut the door, standing guard in front of it.

He frowned at Donnie, raising an eyebrow, “Well?”

“Kicking her out would be a safety hazard to us,” Donnie explained shortly. “So I’m going to lay down some rules.”

Casey gritted his teeth and wrinkled his nose, “So, what, we just hope she’s not another secret Kraang bot?”

“Seeing how she didn’t shoot me the second I opened the door, I think she’s just a normal human,” Donnie moved around Casey, opening the bathroom once again.

The girl was sitting on the floor, wedged into a corner with the robot sitting in her lap. Her head snapped up when Donnie entered and the bot let out a low, displeased sound.

Donnie approached the pair, mulling over how to start this talk, “...I don’t think we got your name.”

“Raven,” she answered quickly. “I’m Raven. And he’s Scrap.”

The robot beeped, the two antennas on its head swiveling upright at the sound of his name.

“Okay,” Donnie crouched in front of them, clasping his hands together between his knees. “I’m Donatello. Now, as you can see, I’m not quite human and, as such, would prefer if other humans didn’t know about me or my family.”

Raven frowned but didn’t speak.

Donnie continued, “That and we’re trying to lay low up here. But that plan kinda has a kink now.”

Raven nodded, “I’ve compromised your safehouse.”

Donnie straightened slightly, her bluntness surprising him, “Um, yeah, kinda.”

She nodded again, “I’m guessing you need to kill us to ensure your safety?”

Donnie recoiled sharply, eyes going wide with shock, “What? No! I was just going to say you need to stay here where we can keep an eye on you! Why-? What made you-? Just right to killing?”

“Oh,” Raven smiled, relaxing against the wall. “That’s good. I don’t feel like fighting anyone right now. Or negotiating.”

Donnie blinked, “...right…you also can’t signal your team.”

Raven straightened again, smile evaporating, “What?”

“You said it yourself, you being her compromised our safehouse,” Donnie explained. “And the best way to keep us safe is to make sure that knowledge starts and ends with you. So, until further notice? You can’t leave and you can’t contact anyone.”

Raven opened her mouth, looking as if she wanted to protest.

But something gave her pause. She slowly closed her jaw, eyes narrowing at Donnie.

He narrowed his eyes back.

“...okay,” she finally said. “I concede to your terms.”

Donnie nodded and stood, “Great. I’m just gonna…go now…Do you want anything for, ya know, those injuries?”

Raven shook her head, “Some different clothes would be nice when someone gets a moment.”

“Right…I’ll see what we can do,” He spun, marching back out of the bathroom again, ignoring the headshake of disapproval Casey was directing at him.

He ventured back down the stairs, reaching the bottom just in time to see Raph tucking a blanket around Leo on the couch. Mikey was huddled down next to him, holding one of Leo’s hands in both of his.

They both looked up when Donnie stepped in.

“Well?” Raph asked.

“She was surprisingly cooperative,” Donnie said as he approached Leo, pressing lightly at his pulse point. “We should still keep an eye on her though, just in case…she also requested if we could provide her clothing.”

“Seriously?” Raph muttered. “What does she think this is, a hotel?”

“Considering she is currently wearing what I assume is the standard for Kraang prisoners, it’s not that unusual of an ask.”

Raph paused, eyes narrowing slightly before he turned towards the stairs, “You said there were two bedrooms?”

“Possibly three,” Donnie replied. “Set up one for Leo?”

Raph muttered a reply but he was halfway up the stairs so Donnie didn’t quite catch it.

He chose to let it drop for now, focusing on rechecking Leo’s vitals and bandages.

Mikey watched quietly for a minute before speaking, “Does she seem nice?”

“Who?”

“The girl upstairs,” Mikey explained. “It’d be cool if she was nice. Then we could have another human friend.”

Donnie sighed. He knew Mikey was trying to stay a little positive but, “...it’s way too early to know Mikey. We should just keep her at arms length for now.”

“Okay,” Mikey paused again. “Hey Donnie?”

“Yeah?”

“When’s Leo gonna wake up?”

And that question made Donnie pause and created an unpleasant lump in his throat.

Because how the heck was he supposed to tell Mikey that there was a chance Leo would never wake up? Leo was so hurt and his breathing was off and he wasn’t responding to any kind of stimuli. Every hour Leo didn’t wake just increased the chance that he would just stop breathing and not start again.

How was he supposed to say that he was out of his depth? That he didn’t know how to give Leo the best chance of bouncing back? None of them had been hurt as bad as Leo was hurt and Splinter was the one to mend serious injuries. But Donnie was sure even Splinter wouldn’t know how to best mend all of Leo’s wounds.

How was he supposed to tell Mikey that he didn’t know how to fix this? That they could lose Leo too and Donnie had no idea how to fix that?

He couldn’t. Mikey was already struggling, they were all struggling and Donnie didn’t want to shatter what little was left of their hope.

So he smiled at Mikey, fake and forced, and told him, “It’s Leo. He’ll be back up in no time.”

The words tasted like acid on Donnie’s tongue.

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

SO! A few little things that I probably should have said before but….kinda posted chapter 1 RIGHT before I had to go to work so it was a rush job. But I am taking a bit of a new approach to this arc. For one, I think I'm going to try and implement an upload schedule of once a week on Fridays(small exception made for chapter 2 because I was gonna post 1 and 2 at the same time but then I added the whole scene with Donie patching Leo up). I'm hoping it'll give me more time for edits so that there are less errors in the posted chapters (very sorry for how often that happened in arcs 1 and 2, did not realize how often I miss things) Another thing is that I'm pretty much going full 'fuck it, this is fanfiction'. Meaning this is going to be very different from the conon show and not a simple 'show but there's an extra character'. This is basically gonna be a 2012 overhaul with an added OC. And I will be throwing out my 'keep under 30 chapter rule' because I KNOW this is gonna be a long arc. With that out of the way, NEW OC FOR THINE EYES! May she bring you much joy over the course of this fic!

#tmnt #tmnt 2012 #lone hunter and turtle #hunter and turtles au #tmnt au #fanfic #oc

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amaiguri · 1 year

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Fantasy Ecology (Worldbuilding of Yssaia)

Buckle in, folks -- I got fantasy creatures AND etymology for you <3

While I'm not the biggest ecology/spec evo person, my friend Jay is. She's figured out how the grasses evolved and why there aren't rodents in Yssaia and she's commissioned SO MUCH art on my behalf, I just 🥺🥺🥺

So, today, I'm going to showcase some of the plants and creatures she has made or influenced throughout Yssaia, since I def don't have time to do it all. But if you want to know more (and you don't mind that my website's images don't work) you can always visit tinyurl.com/Yssaia and read basically everything.

Plants — South vs. North

Euthalia's Flower Pamphlet gives you a pretty good idea of the humid, temperate environment of the Isle of Telethens and the North Coast of the Aftokratoria. The plants, overall, can spread out their leaves and blooms to absorb the sun without worry about freezing. Meanwhile, Vivinne's Pamphlet of Northern Plants paints a pretty stark contrast of gothy black plants whose pigment is designed to absorb light waves closer to infrared and ultraviolet because there is simply not a lot of that direct, white sunlight under the Upper Continent. Notice that the plants can't be as water-filled -- they'd just freeze in the eternal snows. Since Ysse magic is a thing, I'd like to think Northern plants have evolved shapes that increases the heat around them, making them ideal for shelter-creation too.

Rumateurs, the "Llamas"

Rumateurs are llama-like (and less alpaca-like) creatures with ossicones (like giraffes!) instead of horns! Think like 300+ lbs, thick muscle, smarter cuz they're pack animals (not herd animals) and need their toes clipped cuz they grow continuously. Their big noses evolved to heat the air with their body heat before it enters the rest of their system in their cold climate. They have split toes to make it easier to climb. Northerners rely on them for transportation in the craigy valleys and for their wool, meat, milk, hooves, and bones. FUN FACT: Only one of the rumateurs in my game will let you pet it, and other one will spit on you because it hates rich people.

Flavoneite, the Void Beasts

Flavoneite are six-legged, cat-sized, slug-like parasites who feed primarily on blood and Ysse crystals. Due to their jaw-shape and circulatory system, when they bite you, you lose the ability to perceive them -- as they manipulate your Ysse and thus, your central nervous system. Flavoneite hosts can last weeks or even months before disease and infection overtake, but will quickly become irritable or even hostile if you try to remove the Flavoneite. Talented mages can draw a Rune of Opening on the back of the Flavoneite to remove it but given the difficulty of getting close to the hostile hosts, sometimes it's simply easier to kill the Flavoneite before the host dies and its needs a new one. Entire villages have had to be burned to try to be rid of these things. Without a blood supply, however, Flavoneite can survive on Ysse crystals alone for up to six months -- they are extremely difficult to get rid of, once they are around.

Nonetheless, Senator Diacaius Praefori keeps a pet Flavoneite. He promises she doesn't bite. Much. And for some reason, he can still see it just fine...

Sandworms

The Sandworms of the desert, related to the Flavoneite, Eleftegos, Maret, and Shagbeasts also on this list, have evolved alongside the Sha Hir'za. The Sha Hir'za have bred them for companionship, protection, hunting, transportation, and terraforming. They all have ivory shells that guard their back and heads, though the exact size and shape varies by the specific breed. Note the purple hue on their bellies -- this is a special cell that helps sustain the Sandworm with photosynthesis when they don't have a lot of food. They primarily filter feed on microbes in the sand, but they can eat basically anything if it's small enough -- from insects to seeds to salt crystals.

Notably, Sandworms are not the local equivalent of Kosher.

Dageos, the Houndlets

The Dageos is a fast, pack predator with lop rabbit-like ears, fangs, and an extremely lithe body -- maybe weighing around 80 lbs at the biggest. They fill a similar niche to foxes and some Svanihk villages let them roam around openly. Dageos will sometimes hunt lone eleftegos but generally prefer to scavenge other meals or hunt smaller prey.

Eleftegos, the Ivory Beast

Eleftegos are omnivore filter-feeders with eat algae, plants, and small fish if they're able. Humans have never domesticated them, but they're so docile and intelligent that a well-meaning human can teach them to carry them around. While some Tsars might just traumatize their companions into subservience, most Tsars and Witches revere and love their livelong companions -- and while no one can talk to them, the assumption is that Eleftegos think humans are really really human and like to carry them around places (much like you would carry your own fluffy companion everywhere, if you could!)

Eleftegos actually means "Ivory Beast" because the Telethenians who named them traded Ivory before they had the creature, and then just named the creature after that. (You can harvest the Ivory without hurting the beast! They seem to be cool with this, once they realize it doesn't hurt.) The Svanhik folk have their own name for them that has nothing to do with their ability to produce Ivory.

Maret, the Slugbunny

Marets -- named so by the Svanihk folk for their six legs or six eyes (Ok, I just realized that makes no sense to you but roll with it lol) -- fill the ecological niche of ocelots. They hunt small animals, like voles and smaller lagomorphs, and fish, but end up as prey to larger predators. In the wild, their slimey pelts(?) are usually brown and gray with a couple of bright spots on their underbellies to impress their mates and to seem poisonous, but humans have bred them to be more different and bright colors.

Also, Arlasaire's seeing-maret, Fuafua, is purple for a very specific reason that I won't get into because it's spoilers. But, you gotta trust me. BUT ALSO, Fuafua is purple because my favorite color is purple and she's the mascot of Yssaia! Every franchise needs a cute animal mascot, right? Fuafua is perfect <3 <3 <3

Meuu and Meuu'otes, the Bunnygoats and Goat-bunnies

Okay, lemme tell you the story that Jay told me: On some island in the Mediterranean, there were a bajillion rabbits. Then, the ice age happened and goats came to the island. Well, after the ice age ended, the goats outcompeted the rabbits... but then, they started looking more and more like rabbits.

Thus, meet the Meuu (pronounced "Mew") -- the goats of Telethens. They're Bunnygoats. That being said, since Telethens haven't had rabbits for millennia probably, the word for "bunny" is "little goat", basically.

Telethenian Natural Philosophers note that, around the world, there is a tendency for everything to evolve back into a rabbit. (You know, like how carcinization says everything is evolving into a crab!) This may have something to do with how Ysse impacts the creatures of Yssaia.

Dandelion Fields on the Upper Continent

The Upper Continent is home to fields and fields of dandelions, as the grasses haven't arrived up here to outcompete them yet. These dandelions are frequently considered to be a symbol of human desire, hopes, and rebirth -- and they're a welcome backup food source wherever they grow.

Shagbeasts

Maybe TW: Arachnophobia but no spiders, Shagbeasts are fucking horrible.

Shagbeasts are the primary grazers inhabiting North Chrysig. They feed by raking their beak-like mouths across the ground to shovel the topsoil into enormous throat pouches before filtering the dirt out by shaking it through numerous pores in the throat.

They may seem docile and sweet from a distance. But, as they filter feed, their pores become clogged. They ooze a thick yellow mucus that coats the obstruction until it hardens and becomes smooth enough to be passed.

This mucus has an unbearable stench that shagbeasts are always coated in a pestilent aura that can sicken any unaccustomed to the smell. But these hardened pearls of shagbeast mucus have quickly become a valuable alchemical ingredient -- akin to whale ambergris.

But even more monstrous are their winged offspring: The Vampyrlings. The Vampyrlings are flighted, juvenile shagbeasts. They roost by hanging upside down from the shoulder-antlers of their parents. Unable to produce milk, shagbeasts feed their young by allowing the brood to parasitize their own flesh.

Without crucial hormones found in the blood of a host shagbeast, vampyrlings are unable to mature, and so, despite being able to fly, they are unable to venture from North Chrysig to colonize South Chrysig or the Lower Continent.

Vampyrlings will also violently swarm any creature that ventures too close to their host, and unless half or more of their number are killed, the swarm will not abate. But when it does, they will choose the easiest source of food yet: their fallen siblings.

The alleged "Land of the Gods" has done nothing to burn away the monstrousness from these beasts.

That's all for now folks!

Something that's important to remember, with the names of all my creatures (and yours) is that... language has power. If you have a conlang/fantasy name, which culture got to name the creature? I've tried to give all my creatures Englishy names so that you don't feel like one of my cultures' languages is more important than another (although there's many cases where I've just named them in only one language because I am LAZY lolol) but it's just something to consider.

BTW Idk if I've mentioned it elsewhere yet but all my work is available under the Creative Commons 4.0 license, meaning it's irrevokably okay to borrow and/or steal, as long as you credit us! I'm a big proponent of the free spread of ideas so if you want, you can use any of this in your own work -- even if it's commercial! Let me know if you do <3 <3 <3

#spec evo #fantasy creature #creature design #speculative evolution #speculative biology #worldbuilding #fantasy world #fantasy plants #fantasy writer #Yssaia #Amaiguri

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hongjoongscafe · 10 months

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Cancer awareness.

So last time someone asked me whether we celebrate Diwali or not I replied that we won't be this year since my uncle (my mother's brother) is on a ventilator. This was 11th November. On 13th November, my uncle passed away due to cancer.

Nobody knew he had cancer before. So let me take you on a journey of about four and a half months of cancer.

–July 2023.

So my uncle had a “wound” around his wisdom tooth. He was in pain and consulted a dentist 1. This dentist has done all the dental stuff in our family/relatives. A really good one. He said that it was an ulcer and it would be fine and gave some painkillers and other medicine to help it heal.

However, that did not work out and the pain only got worse. My uncle changed the doctor and went to the dentist 2. Now, this dentist is a well-known doctor and works in a very expensive hospital. And he has a clinic of his own. He said that they needed to extract the wisdom teeth. And after that, it will heal. So they did that.

The pain did not stop but it only got worse for even worse.

–August 2023.

When he did not get any relief, my uncle went to another hospital (which is one of the top hospitals in India). They did the scanning and we found out that he had stage 1 cancer in his mouth.

The doctors recommended he should get it operated and removed. So they did that. It was a shock for doctors that when they were operating on him, they found that it was not only in his mouth but in his throat as well. It looked like it started in the throat and its roots went towards his mouth.

They declared that it was not the first stage but the fifth stage of cancer.

Then his chemotherapy and radiation began. He was getting weaker quite faster since his upper jaw was operated on and he was on a liquid diet.

The treatment went on. He was fine at the beginning. Doing minor chores or taking himself to appointments. That did not last long.

–October 2023.

His health got worse and he was completely in bed. His breath would shorten even if went to the toilet which was just one step from his side. It would take minutes on minutes to get his breath at a normal rate.

It was around 14th October. We were there. My aunt helped my uncle bathe but things were not good. His breath was way too short and you could see his stomach getting sucked in when he was trying to breathe.

The next day was the day he was hospitalized.

The doctors said that his lungs were filled with water because of some infection which, to date, is not known.

They started taking out the water. They would fill many bottles every day. It was abnormal, to say the least, that there was that much water in his lungs.

–November 2023.

During that time, they took his bone marrow and tested it. Just to find out the cancer has spread in his bones as well. The doctors did another test whose results took almost a week to come back. The doctors said that if this test was positive, they can do another treatment which was basically the last thing they could do to save his life.

The test came out to be positive. And they prepared the injection. They took him to the ICU in order to keep him under observation for 24 hours according to the protocol of that injection.

This injection was supposed to extend his life by 2 years (maximum). This was an expensive injection costing ₹2,00,000 and this was to be given every three weeks.

Things didn't turn out well.

His health deteriorated. He already had a kidney problem for a long. His kidney doctors had asked him to buy a plot just in case they needed to perform a kidney transplant.

His creatinine increased dangerously and doctors suggested dylasis. They did that too. However, nothing worked and finally after two days, on 13th November, he took his last breath.

I made this post to share something that happened to us recently. Never have any of us thought this would happen to our close relatives/family. Cancer is a tricky thing.

The main fault was of Dentist 2 that he pulled his tooth out. Cancer attacks faster when it is touched. He should have taken cautionary steps while treating.

What's done is done. He can't come back and we hope he finds peace.

I just want to share this so you are aware of it. Always get proper tests done. Never take things lightly. Even if you see minor symptoms of anything, get it checked. I don't know what to say right now. But at least let's stay healthy and cautious.

Cancer is a sneaky nightmare. It took someone so close to us within a few months. It was a horrible and haunting thing.

I hope nothing like this happens to any of you. I love you guys so please let's stay healthy. Look after your friends, family, and yourself. Life is too short for regrets❤️.

#cancer #cancer awareness

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realasslesbian · 1 year

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Also, lemme paint a picture for you, of maybe the lowest moment of my life, due entirely to the robodebt scheme, since I'm so good at 'fun creative writing' lmao

It's been raining all week. The roof of the car that I live in is leaking right on my pillow, but there's not much I can do about that except put a takeaway container that I found outside in the gutter on my pillow and empty it every fifteen minutes. I've just come from the doctor where I spent my last $50 getting a large skin cancer surgically removed from my shoulder. The doctor, who had his nose wrinkled the whole time, because I hadn't showered in a whole week, told me to 'try and keep the wound clean'.

I drive to the backstreet behind my work, where I have to be at 6am the next morning. As I turn into the street, my car stops. I wrap a plastic bag around my twelve stitches and get out in the rain to push the car off the road. After half an hour of tinkering, I figure out the fuel pump has shit itself. Thank god for my 6.6GPA science degree, I know exactly how to fix it. So I call up the nearest mechanic (a two hour walk away) and reserve the part for when my paycheck comes in next week. By this point I've busted open three of those stitches. But it's not like I can go anywhere and do anything about it, so I just try and thread them back together as best I can (yes, it does hurt, a lot) then I smother it in antiseptic and hope for the best.

I get ready for bed, by constructing a gutter out of plastic bags to divert the water from the leaking roof off my damp pillow. I'm pretty exhausted at this point, so despite being wet from the rain and sticky from several days of unwashed sweat, I fall right asleep. I'm occasionally woken up by hoons screeching by, slamming on the horn when they see a car with foggy windows and screaming 'wake up' as they go by. I'm sort of used to this frequent nightly reminder of society's active disdain for the less fortunate.

I go into work the next day at 6am. I work most shifts alone, but at swap over my co-workers make sure to let me know I look and smell like shit. They know I'm homeless. They don't care. No one does. Well, that is except for the dog walker who calls the cops on Day Three of me being stuck in the same spot. The cops give me a move on order. Thanks to my first class legal honours degree I know I have 24 hours to comply before they can do anything. My paycheck comes in at midnight, so I'm hoping to have my car back on the road the next day.

I eat some white rice, take a leak in an ice cream container, and go to sleep under my makeshift gutter. I wake up in the morning to absolutely excruciating pain in my jaw. I dunno what it is, but it's the worst pain I've ever felt in my life. There doesn't appear to be anything immediately wrong, other than swelling in my gums, so I just down half a packet of pain killers and make a note to swing by the pharmacy for something stronger on my two hour walk to the mechanic today. It would later turn out I had developed bone cancer in my jaw from the abscess an untreated wisdom tooth had created.

Anyway, five hours and about 20km of walking with a 10kg fuel pump hanging off my one good shoulder later and I'm back at my broken down home. I have about three hours to get out of here before the cops show up to fine and/or arrest me for 'camping illegally' on a city street. Usually replacing a fuel pump would take me half hour, max, but I'm in significant pain. The painkillers the pharmacist gave me are helping, but I'm still borderline delirious. I spend a long time just laying under the car, the greasy city rainwater in the gutter running directly into my now infected surgical wound, just clutching my face, trying to make the pain in my jaw stop. I kind of want to cry, but I ain't cried since I was a kid and I just don't really know how to physically do that anymore. I lay under my car, not really knowing how much time had passed, but pretty anxious the police would show up any minute.

In my semi-delirious state I think about how it wasn't supposed to be like this. I'd worked so hard at my education for nearly a decade for it to not be like this. And yet the Australian government had swooped in and destroyed that burgeoning career for no other reason than wanton malice. I was supposed to be sitting at a nice dry desk, on the upper floors of some top tier law firm's CBD office tower. But I couldn't be admitted as a lawyer with a welfare debt to my name, even if it was obviously fabricated. My greatest discomfort should have been the squelch of rain in my nice shoes when I accidentally stepped into a puddle on the city street. It should have been beyond my comprehension to be laying in a gutter, not even worried about the dirty water in my busted open surgical wound, because of the overwhelming pain of some as yet unknown malady in my jaw. I would never have to know how many people (mainly men) will go out of their way to make a homeless person's life just a bit worse. I would never have to know how little it would take for friends and family to abandon me. I would never have to know that 'unconditional love' doesn't really exist, not when the government says people like me, people with welfare 'debts', don't deserve anything at all. And even back then I knew my 'debt' wasn't a real debt, but no one would believe me. Still not many do, but back then there was no class action, there was no royal commission, there was just the government's propaganda machine against dirty dole bludgers like me.

Anyway, I got the fuel pump in and, while I probably shouldn't have been driving in my state, I drove to the nearest doctor, the one who had originally done the cancer excision. I don't remember too much, due to the pain, but I do remember him saying things like 'what drugs did you take' and 'I'm not sure there's much of a point in me cleaning this up if you're going to not take care of it'. Such is life, I suppose.

I was fairly new to being homeless at that point. I'd only been on the streets a couple months. I've learned and toughened up a lot since then. I still have days and weeks and months where everything goes wrong, but I'm more prepared for it. For example, I try and keep antibiotics and prescription painkillers on hand, even if I have to lie to get a renewed prescription. I've upgraded to a good van and I voluntarily spend my days under it, learning everything I can, fixing and maintaining everything I can. I keep a close eye on the weather. I stay out of populated areas, even if that means staying unemployed, because in the long run, I'll save more money not paying the fines I get from nosy cityslickers than I would in a job. Also I taught myself how to hunt and forage, which reduces my grocery bill significantly. I've basically just accepted survival as the only option.

So I'm sorry if I come off a bit feral to anyone sitting pretty in their nice little house, with their nice little shower, and nice little toilet, and nice little $20 steak they bought at the supermarket, and their nice little as yet unchallenged fantasy land where they have more in common with politicians on $900 000 a year salaries than with the homeless, and their nice little government-sponsored ideas about how anyone the government says is a bad person is in fact a bad person, and their nice little personalities where it's apparently acceptable to have a dig at the traumatic experiences of people who have endured a hell that is so unimaginable, it must be a lie, no matter how fucking watertight the evidence is.

Actually lemme fact-check a little here, because turns out I'm not sorry for being feral. Actually I think the real ferals are the people who choose to ignore the factual, legally-proven, federal court-backed, royal commission-backed experiences of robodebt victims, and instead choose to dismiss, harass and abuse some of the most vulnerable members of society who have endured wrongs and horrors most people can scarcely imagine. I can't even begin to understand the mentality, the lack of basic human decency, that would be required to stoop so low. I could not possibly look on anyone, even my worst enemy, in such a situation and think to open my mouth and tell them 'lol you're lying get therapy uwu'. I just don't understand what has to be fundamentally wrong with a person for them to act this way. But I see it so much, most people are apparently of this calibre, and I'm apparently one of very few people able to see what tf is wrong with it. So I guess that's just another reason I'm better off being a feral out in the bush. I'll take torrential rain, the blistering heat, brown snakes, red backs, shitty dirt roads and plagues of rats over humanity any day.

#robodebt #homelessness #auspol #australia #authoritarian state #authoritarianism #corruption #corrupt government #poverty

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pitgritted · 1 year

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' you're supposed to rip it off quickly . if you take it off slowly like that , it'll hurt more . ' // some random idea of the lil kids and bandaids came to mind

‘ you’re supposed to rip it off quickly . ‘ easier said than done . ‘ if you take it off slowly like that , it’ll hurt more . ‘ hell , it was going to hurt regardless how you approached it . settrigh stares at the boy before him , lines creased at the center of his face , displaying a variety of emotions . digits , small &. frail , hook around the bandage that loosely bellowed among the dust that swarmed between them . there’s a exasperated sigh from him , frustratingly curling his hands into fists , punching the tawny floors beneath them . “ if you’re gonna keep babying me like that — i won’t ever become a man ! you heard what they said … ”

furry auricles ( that were pelted in specs of dried blood , crystallized along the pinpricks of his fur ) inlay upon his cranium . a wound , deep &. fresh , shed over the bridge of his nose . lucky the injury hadn’t succumbed to the cartilage beneath — at least in terms of breakage . cherub cheeks had begun to redden ; shame &. fury blemishing the shadows around the boy’s sunken eyelids . heavy streaks of tears blur his vision , the facets of his surroundings congregating into images of dismantled shapes , until he blinked away the the wetness from his eyes . “ i’m no different from dirt . why can’t I just be normal ? is that why papa left ? ” wrinkles of disgust arch around his mouth , his mind freshened with the foulness that was spoken of his mother .

his face hurt . it hurts . being punched , he surmised , was just a stage into manhood . prove your worth &. strength . just like his papa did . but why … he did everything he was suppose to . right ? ‘pa still left . before he could stifle his frustration , clawing at the flesh of his face , peeling all the cuts to a larger scale , yone was quick to stop him . he was only met with a light graze of fingers atop his head , &. a wispy chuckle from the older boy . ‘ you won’t become a man without support . it’s my job to baby you , because you are still young . too young to get into fights anyway . the least i can do is help you . ‘

settrigh freezes at this , feeling heat continue to graze beyond the plates of his face . tears whet against his cheeks , tracing the outline of his bones &. jaw . he doesn’t answer immediately — he doesn’t need to — &. removes the bandage from over his nose in a swift manner . the sting of the scar now in place . he slowly shuffled closer to yone , gripping the older boy’s clothes . gripping it hard . something he did with his mother to feel safer .

‘ you’re supposed to rip it off quickly . ‘ “ i got it . i got it . ” sett acquiesced . he was much taller than yone now . practically loomed over him . &. yet yone grazed the mounds of muscle ( etched in faded scars &. injuries ) with a tenderness &. care as he did when he were a boy . it irked him how the other man seemed to still treat him like a kicked puppy — but it wouldn’t quell the heat atop his chest . a feeling of safety . no danger lurked beyond the walls . the half - breed’s mouth would twitch at an angle , the light clicks of his ridged canines sifting through as he reaffirms the clench of his jowls . thick fingers lightly grazing the apparent scar atop his nose , feeling the smooth ridge dipping down at the center .

his ears flick abreast of him , noting the shift of yone’s smaller frame against him . no longer feeling the coolness of hands push into his skin &. replace old bloodied bandaging . sett cants his head up , flexing his fingers . watching how well the injury upon his hand had been well treated of infection . he could feel the saline solution prickle at injury beneath , creating a dull throb of pain . not that it bothered him any . “ not too shabby , yone . you have my thanks . ”

his unshaven chin would twitch a little , focusing coined colored eyes on the man . he didn’t look much different since they were kids . still had that annoyingly long head of hair that practically made him look like a prince ripped out of a fairy tail . sett leans in , his fingers latching onto the cuff of their sleeve , lightly tugging it . “ thanks for everythin’ . i mean it … ”

#windchaser #𓆰ㅤ ㅤ〝 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘀𝘄𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗼𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗯𝗼𝘀𝘀? 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗯𝗲𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗺𝗶𝘀𝘀. 〞 — 𝙸𝙽𝙱𝙾𝚇 𝙿𝚁𝙾𝙼𝙿𝚃𝚂 : MESSAGE TO THE BOSS.#𓆰 ㅤ ㅤ〝 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗯𝗼𝘀𝘀 𝗶𝘀 𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲. 𝗵𝗼𝗹𝗱 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗮𝗽𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘂𝘀𝗲… 〞 — 𝙸𝙽 𝙲𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙴𝚁 : SETT THE BOSS.#sett ic.#answered.#yeah now you get angst #BUT OKAY #THIS WAS RLLY SWEET #sweet littol boys

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webnewsify1 · 1 year

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Bella Hadid gives an update on her health after suffering from a jaw infection

Bella Hadid updated her followers on her health via TikTok. The model displayed her face in a recent video that was uploaded to the social media platform, pouting and displaying inflamed tissue around her eyes. The video was then sealed with a kiss. Update your teeth, "She wrote the post's caption. "The tooth that I believed was hurting (she's fine) and that I had a root canal on a year ago had a low-grade infection underneath it. It proceeded to descend, infecting my jaw in a little way. I've known in my heart for months that I needed to remove this tooth in order to cure the rest, and that if I didn't, it would kill me. Hadid has been open about her tooth and jaw pain with fans. In February, the model shared a TikTok video of herself eating tacos and discussing an emergency root canal. "It just feels like something isn't right in there," she said a little more than a month ago. "Something bad is going on. It feels like it's in my mouth right now. This pain has been going on for a year." And it turned out she was correct. Hadid discussed how her tooth ache and Lyme pain may be related because she had the disease herself. My friends, please heed to your bodies. Advised the 26-year-old in her most recent TikTok. This caused my Lyme to flare up, which indicates that the disease is targeting the affected areas, including my teeth, jaw, mouth, brain, vertebrae, bones, etc., as well as my entire nervous system. "Even minor physical or psychological disturbance to the body might trigger a flare-up of Lyme disease. When I was or am too stressed or overworking, my jaw would sporadically flare up or inflame. It's okay some days! And some days are challenging. But it just escalated from 0 to 100 when my jaw and nerves started to pain severely. I'm having this tooth pulled tomorrow, moral of the story, she exclaimed. Will cure that virus! Never before have I been so eager to visit the dentist. I see you all, thanks for checking in on me! "Good luck to me!" The model shared infographics and illustrations about Lyme illness with her more than 32.5 million Instagram followers in 2020. The blogs, which were first published by chef Joudie Kalla, included a number of daily symptoms experienced by many Lyme disease patients. The 23-year-old drew arrows to over 30 symptoms, including headache, foggy thinking, insomnia, confusion, disorientation, dizziness, and anxiety, that she claimed to commonly suffer. In addition, Hadid told her followers that she has problems walking and suffers from muscle spasms, joint discomfort and swelling, tingling, and numbness "every day." Hadid commented about Kalla's infographics, "Every day I experience at least 10 of these traits without fail... since I was maybe 14, but more fiercely when I was 18." Hadid tacked on, "What we suffer daily with no remedy," to the lengthy list of Lyme disease symptoms. The invisible disease, or the truth. Also, Hadid reshared a post by Kalla in which she discussed her experience with Lyme disease. The sickness has been referred to as a "continuous minefield that keeps on giving" by the best-selling author of Palestine on a Plate. She wrote, "Some days you feel like a super hero and other days you just want to sink." "I know now to take each day as it comes and try my best," the speaker said. Read the full article

#bellahadid tiktok health model socialmedia eyes healthcare webnewsify

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mandibleexcursions · 2 years

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Sometimes the unexpected happens. I had left this blog, not forgotten by any means, but had let it fall dormant because my life and jaw were consistent. No changes, no shifts, just going about my post surgery life.

And then I started to notice something going on inside my mouth on my lower right cheek right about the time COVID crept into our global awareness. It felt like a bubble of tissue. I tried to look in my mouth; all I could see was what looked like an inflamed red gum with a purple dot. I could compress the bubble with my tongue slightly, and eventually, it popped. After it healed, I noticed that the spot where the bubble had formed now had a weird texture, but surely it was just scar tissue. I thought I might have seen and felt a screw after the bubble popped. After a few weeks, I assumed it had healed over because it did not hurt and there did not seem to be infection. I then proceeded to forget about it. Keep calm, contract COVID, and carry on, right?

Fast-forward to 2022 and that spot on my cheek has now been there for quite a while and there is a constant dull ache emanating from my mandible and uncomfortable twinges in my jaw when I eat something cold or hot. Over the last year or maybe longer, I have also had A LOT of tonsil and adenoid stones-- remember that promise I made to be honest about my experience, I did not forget and you are welcome! These funky chunks in combination with the lingering cheek spot and the new pains were enough for me to ask my dentist to take a look in November when I was in for a filling procedure...

"Yes, you do have something going on. Your bone is exposed, and I can see metal."

Well, that explains a lot.

After Thanksgiving, I was able to go back to the specialists office, and my dear good surgeon Dr. G was still there! I was afraid he might have gone and retired on me; gratefully, he has not and is teaching another round of medical residents the ins and outs of maxillofacial surgery and care. At my appointment, I quickly realized that I am older than all of the student residents, which let me tell you gives a person pause-- when did I grow up? When did I become the equivalent of those 1980s songs on the mix station? Enough self-pity, Erin!

The conclusions are as follows: I have a broken screw on my lower plate. Dr. G saw it on the x-ray in literally seconds. (Find yourself a high caliber specialist; they are worth it.) Said broken screw has caused chronic infection, and if left alone would lead to more jawbone exposure in due time. Who could have imagined my body would have been giving me a clue years ago...she says with an awkward laugh and heaps of hindsight.

The treatment: Plate removal. Because I am now so far out from my surgery in 2015, my bones have healed and removal will not pose any risks structurally. Complications might include possible infection at the surgical site and there might be some risk in terms of nerves, but the side in question already has residual nerve numbness (see previous posts). Needless to say, the benefits outweigh the risks. The question becomes: does this make Jaw Surgery number 3 or does it count as a half?

As life has shown me, the expedition doesn't end just because you have a medical release, and because of that my promise to document this journey in my life is not quite over yet. If you just found this blog trying to find out more information about jaw surgery or mandibular condylar hyperplasia or you are an old friend of the feed, I hope this post finds you well. Please reach out if you have any questions or concerns related to MCH, jaw surgery, or the healing process.

#jaw surgery #mandibular condylar hyperplasia #asymmetrical jaw #orthognathic surgery

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straw-babi · 2 years

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I'm not gonna elaborate too much but I have 2 latex tubes going from the inside of my mouth to outside my jaw to drain the infection. It's called a Penrose drain.

When they placed the drains they also put in a permanent plate where my jaw was fractured. There were bone fragments and tissue that made the area get really infected.

If I was to leave the hospital before the infection is gone she said the plate won't heal properly and that's also why I can't open my mouth all the way, the infection is causing my jaw muscles to not function fully.

So until all of the infection is out I'm kinda stuck here. I've been doing everything I can to take care of it. I deep clean it very gently to ensure i don't get sepsis and I've been rinsing my mouth and gently brushing and trying to push any infection out but its still just draining.

I'm just sad lol. I'm on a clear liquid diet and that means that the only things I'm served are: chicken or beef broth, a jello (maybe), an Italian ice (that is melted), an apple juice, and a coffee.

My mom brought me some juice I asked her for today that is clear so I can have that now but I'm literally not even eating because it's gross and I'm tired of greasy water.

I just want to be able to have something in my system. I literally haven't eaten actual food besides a single bowl of mashed potatoes in 2 weeks. At this point I'm not even eating the food I'm just drinking my juice.

I just want to be able to eat but even once I'm discharged, my surgeon doesn't want me to have dairy or chew anything for 6 weeks. So even once I'm discharged I'm basically just going to be able to eat baby food type shit.

I had a really good day at first because I was seeing progress with the drains, i was even able to shower and walk around my room a bit. So I was hoping the drains would get removed tomorrow and then maybe I get discharged the next day and at least get better slowly at home with my food and bed.

I'm just really depressed now. I just don't know what to do and not eating is making me crazy, fuck.

That just really made me upset when she came an hour ago and I'm still trying to deal with it.

For someone who used to want to be skinny so bad, I'm finally getting my wish. I'm losing so much weight from this. My bones are touching so much. My spine is showing again, I'm veiny and getting lankier but... It's for once not my main goal.

At this point I just want to be healthy.

A healed mouth that is capable of eating and filling me with food instead of sadness.

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thebibliosphere · 2 years

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Been following you for years and am very, very glad you're not only still here but are in fact continuing to recover! Loved Phangs, can't wait for book 2!

No pressure to answer but did your awful dental situation get resolved yet? Did you have all those poisonous fillings removed, or is that still on the list? I'm guessing your other health crises took priority, and then the whole pandemic thing?

Much love and appreciation, and pets for Holly Mop :)

Aw, thank you. That's very kind of you to say.

Magic Dentist Man managed to remove enough of my contaminated fillings for me to heal and recover from the mercury poisoning/major jaw bone infection, and my mouth is now much better. My last x-ray even showed that most of my jawbone has regrown, so all those painful surgeries were worth it.

I still have two fillings that need to be replaced, but they are not contaminated. (I'm just mildly allergic to them, lol.) I had to take a break from a lot of the procedures we were doing because my overall health became too unstable in 2018-2019, and I was too weak to undergo any more procedures. We also found out that due to my MCAS/EDS, I'm not a good candidate for metal braces, which was the initial plan to try and correct my unstable jaw. My dentist was looking into whether I'd be a good candidate for Invisalign when the pandemic hit, and all my non-essential care ground to a halt.

I've been back for a couple of cleanings since then. I was petrified of what they might find because before the pandemic, I was getting my teeth cleaned every 2-3 months to keep on top of the bone infection(s)/gum problems I'd been having from all the procedures, but my mouth is pretty much healed! There are none of the infection or high inflammation markers I had before, and my mouth and jaw are mostly pain-free these days :)

The nerve damage that makes it hard for me to swallow is still there, but that's life.

We're still hoping to try and stabilize my jaw and fix some of the gaps in my smile that I was left with, but I can afford to wait, which is nice. It's nice not to be throwing 10+k a year at the dentist to stay alive!

#chronic health tag: teeth #dental #teeth #dental trauma #I still can't believe I wrote Nathan's story arc before I knew I had metal poisioning lmao

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phoenixyfriend · 3 years

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Sugar, Spice, and a Heart to Entice

AKA: Jango Fett speedruns a romance with someone who should be his enemy. (It's okay. We know he makes bad choices.)

Note: Ahsoka uses the pseudonym "Ashla" in this fic. Warnings: slavery, references to drug use, crude sex jokes, undressing of an unconscious person (for medical reasons)

----

The girl that they shove into the chains next to him is... worrying.

(Well, probably a girl--he'll adjust later if it turns out he's wrong.)

She's not that much younger than him, he thinks. It's hard to tell, with the way her skin is taut over muscle and bone, too little water and too little sleep, and probably not enough food for whatever labor she's been doing. He's also, admittedly, not great at gauging ages in the first place, and certainly not for Togruta. Still, he thinks it's safe to say that they're close in age, and that she's probably younger than him.

She's lucky, by some measure. The spice ship is terrible, but it's probably better than the fate tog girls are usually subject to in this industry. They're hazardous conditions, and violent ones, but Jango's yet to see a slave here stripped of their clothing for anything other than a whipping.

He thinks it's probably a matter of money. That kind of violation lowers the profit margins, he imagines. Spice is more lucrative than anything, and pain is a better motivator than... well.

So she's lucky, by that measure, and that measure alone.

They clap her in bindings before he even sees her, even though she's unconscious, and bring her sometime in the night cycle. Jango doesn't have a lot of pity left in him, but some goes out to her. He won't say she's too young for this, because nobody is ever old enough for slavery, nor do slavers have any compunctions about selling babes in arms, but Jango would wager she's already led a hard life.

She's fairly covered, but what little is visible shows enough old battle wounds that he can't imagine she's stayed off of battlefields. He knows how to read a Togruta's markings for stress history, too, and hers tell a story. Her facial marks are thin and delicate, and he'd say they're certainly more complex than the average; the striation on her lekku and montrals is thin and jagged, like marble. It's pretty enough, but it's also a sign of the fact that her life has likely been anything but easy. Some of it might be genetics, and he hopes it is, but with the scars he can see... he doubts it's much.

"Keep that one alive," the overseer orders, eyes on Jango and hand gesturing at the tog girl.

He leaves.

Jango isn't sure what they're hoping to get out of putting her with him. The room is built for four, yes, but they usually don't try to have anyone share with Jango. Maybe they ran out of room, or just assumed Jango was the most likely to know field medicine, or just figured there wouldn't be any trouble until she woke.

As he gets closer, his confusion grows. The tog's got burns all over, ugly ones that aren't going to heal cleanly without bacta. They're going to get infected, as likely as not. He hasn't got much besides water in here, but the overseer's left behind a box of what looks like bandages. If he's lucky, there's burn cream in there.

(He's not lucky.)

He works slowly, careful of every movement. He builds up a story in his head as he does, based on the wounds he finds and what he starts to notice of the clothing. He can't see all the details, not in what little light he has, but there's plenty to notice.

He hadn't realized, with how dim it is, but most of what she's got on as an outer layer is hardened leather, real leather, not synth. There are attachment points for armor at the shoulders and hips, and he thinks he sees signs of wear for vambraces and greaves. She's no Mando'verde, not with how he can see that the fabric at her torso and upper legs is intended to stay light and flexible and uncovered, but the crafting of the leather layers is familiar. He thinks she might have contacts among Mando armorers.

She might even wear beskar, if she's impressed the right person.

The wounds are recent, and unfamiliar, and he thinks she was probably fought into chains, rather than bought in them. She's a captive, not a purchase, or maybe... maybe they just found an unconscious woman, and decided that she was worth keeping.

He thinks she lost a fight, or won but with great injuries, and just... stumbled off and collapsed. He gets the feeling no one on board the ship could have fought this woman, except for himself. It's not based on much, not until he can see her move, but he's got good instincts for that sort of thing.

Jango keeps his assessment of her torso quick and clinical, not even bothering to mentally apologize for stripping her bare. This is medical, and he's not a doctor, not even a field medic, but he's professional nonetheless. Even though there's nothing in the box but bandages, not even the burn cream he'd hoped for, he'd still rather know if there's a broken rib to worry about. He doesn't want to wait for her to wake up and then find out she's got a punctured lung, even if he can't do anything about it. He finds bruising, but... he thinks that if anything is broken, it's hairline at most.

Lucky, he thinks again, in the unluckiest situations.

She doesn't wake that cycle. It's all he can do to get some water in her, dripped into her mouth in a trickle, but it's something.

----

When the Togruta girl wakes up, it's sudden. Jango is wiping down her lekku with a wet cloth in hopes of staving off a fever, kneeling next to the bunk. She opens her eyes, stiffens with a sharp breath, and then twists off the bed. Before he's fully processed this, her legs are up and around his neck, and then he's being wrenched to the side and onto the filthy ground, cheek grinding down into the grit. He feels a bony knee press into his spine, and the growl of a predator.

"Where am I?" the tog girl demands.

"Spice ship," he says, and oh but this place has ruined him for fights; he's having trouble breathing from whatever she's done to him, and she doesn't even have the use of her hands. "Deep space. You're in the slave cells. Don't mess with the collar, it'll explode if you try to remove it."

"Spice refinery?" she repeats, sounding completely baffled. He gives her a second to process, but she blindsides him. "Someone got me in their hands and they went for spice slavery?"

"As opposed to..." he really hopes she gets off soon.

She doesn't answer him immediately, and he can't get a look at her face. He gets his arms out to the sides, plants them to the floor, and shoves back. She doesn't fall off, but she does slide to the side to sit on the floor.

The expression she's got is best described as 'shell-shocked,' he thinks.

"You don't know me," she says, faint and confused. He shakes his head; he's pretty sure he'd have recognized her if he'd known her at all, given the time he's spent cleaning her wounds and trying to keep her alive. She laughs, breathless and a tad hysterical. "You don't--fuck. You don't know me. That's... great. Okay. Okay, I can work with that. Don't know how they missed it, but okay."

"Bounty on your head?" he guesses.

She smiles, thin and unpleasant. "Something like that."

"Thought as much. You're built like a fighter." He intends it as a compliment, but he doesn't think she takes it as one.

"I've never had a choice otherwise," she says, and when she next looks around, it's to find a place to sit. She pushes herself up to the thin mattress of the cot behind her, and Jango mirrors her on the cot across the room. It's not his bed, technically, but it's not like there's anyone to complain. She frowns at him; it's not a rude look, he thinks, but an attempt to put something unfamiliar in place. "What legion were you with?"

He blinks at her. He's been part of an army, but never one that big. "Legion?"

"Were you with special forces?" she tries again. "Or--wait, did you even get off Kamino before--"

"I'm not whoever you think I am," he tells her. "None of that means anything to me. I know what a legion is, but I've never had reason to be part of one."

"But you're..." she trails off, brow furrowed. "I guess just a similar face, then."

"To who?"

"The clones?" she hazards, as if that clears anything at all up. "I have no idea where we are; maybe the war holos never made it out far enough for you to know what they looked like..."

"Which war?" he asks, because he feels like he'd probably have heard of a war that used clones, especially one that had enough holos spread around for this woman to expect him to know what the clones in question look like.

"The... the clone war," she says hesitantly. "With the Separatists?"

None of that means anything to him.

It must show in his face, because her brow furrows, and her eyes go wide in a way he doesn't like. He can't tell if her skin's losing color or anything, but he's pretty sure the curl at the tip of one lek is a sign of anxiety. He's not sure how to help, but part of him already decided he liked this woman, just on the suspicion that she was friendly to Mandalorians.

(It's been a solid year and a half since Jango has had anything approaching a friend. He may be, subconsciously, a little desperate.)

"What's your name?" she asks, voice pitching in discomfort, and tight as a garotte.

"Jango Fett."

She closes her eyes, clenches her jaw, and... he can't see, can't know if she's trembling, but he thinks she is. She lets her head fall back against the wall, and breathes in sharply. It's a shaky breath, and he doesn't like that much, either.

"Fuck," she repeats. "No wonder--fuck."

He gives her a few seconds, but she doesn't elaborate. He asks another question instead. "Do I get to know your name?"

Her eyes crack open, and then she sits up straight and looks him over. Her lips purse, and she comes to some decision, though he's at a loss for what. "Call me Ashla. She/her, if you'd rather stick to Basic."

Fake name. Alright. She mentioned a bounty, so it's probably about that.

"Well met, Ashla."

She laughs, empty and painful. She swears in a mix of Huttese and Mando'a, and a few languages he doesn't even recognize. The Core accent on her Mando'a is strong, but he thinks whoever taught her might have been from Concord Dawn.

"How old are you, if you don't--"

"I'm twenty-one," she says. He was right; she's only two years younger than him. "At least... fuck, okay. What's the date?"

He tells her, and she screws up her brow and mouths something to herself. He's not entirely sure what.

"How long ago was..." she trails off.

"Was what?"

She presses a hand over her eyes. "I don't know what year it is."

Ah. Well, he can help with that much. He tells her that, too.

Ashla drops her hand. She visibly mulls it over, eyes on the underside of the bunk above her. He has no idea what she's thinking.

"Why aren't there other people in this room?"

"Weak ones couldn't sleep because I'm 'too intimidating,' and the rest kept trying to throw their weight around." He shrugs at the look she points his way. "I'm not dumb enough to start a fight with a bomb around my neck, but I'm not letting someone knock me around so they can earn a reputation."

She purses her lips, but lets it lie. "You let me take you down, then?"

"You had the advantage of surprise," he says, and doesn't bother to list every other advantage. She's better fed than he is, has spent less time in spice-suffused air, was unconscious and resting while he was awake to keep an eye on her fever. He's got the feeling she already knows.

When she speaks again, it's low and in fluent Mando'a, heavily accented though it may be.

"You'd get out of here eventually," she tells him, eyes half shut. "But you'll get out faster with my help, Mand'alor."

His stomach twists.

----

"They are either very stupid, or very cheap," Ashla mutters a day later, when he's supposedly helping her change some bandages. It gives him the excuse of leaning in close.

"Probably the former," he says.

She grins, and then stiffens and hisses out a low breath as he pours some of the stolen whiskey over one of the burns. It's not a real disinfectant, but it's the best they've got at the moment. Jango still isn't sure how she managed to get it from the overseers without them noticing, but he's quickly gotten the gist that she's a fair shot sneakier than he is.

"What did they do?" he asks, and she huffs out a laugh.

"I need you to promise you won't try to kill me," she says, and he stills.

She seems to be waiting on his response. Great. "That's not an auspicious start, Ashla."

"Eh, I've survived more than my fair share of people trying to kill me. No offense, bro, but I could take you," she says.

She's probably right in their current circumstances. "Let's hear it."

"I left the Jedi Order when I was seventeen."

The whiskey bottle slips from his fingers.

An invisible hand catches it, and it settles quietly on the floor of their cell. No guards will come running. It's a damning sight, for him.

A Jedi.

A Jedi who--who left.

Jedi committed Galidraan, but she left three years before that, but she was--was--

She has her back to him, trusting.

Or just arrogant.

She phrased it that way on purpose, phrased it so he'd know she left before he--before--

"I was framed by my friend for a terrorist attack," she says, and he can't find his voice to tell her to stop talking. "And sentenced to death by a non-Jedi military tribunal for it. By the time they figured out I wasn't guilty, I'd already been kicked out."

He forces his hands to his knees, grips at the bones that are too close to the skin, and orders himself to breathe.

Ashla turns on the spot, blinks at him. "I'm telling you this because it's how we're going to get out."

"Your people killed mine."

"I wasn't a Jedi when Galidraan happened," she says. There's more she wants to say, he's sure, but she keeps the words locked behind her teeth. That might be a good thing.

"And I'm just supposed to trust you?"

"Only for long enough to get out of here," she tells him. She shrugs, easy as anything. She's done this before, maybe. "Trust me, I have plenty of reasons to hate you, too, but I'm a little more concerned about getting this ship taken into custody, and having all the slaves freed."

"And you can just... make that happen."

"I told you, they're either stupid or skint," she says, with that same disarming grin. "I had lightsabers on me, and they kept them on the ship. They haven't drugged me since I woke up. They put me in normal cuffs, Jango."

He hates the way his name sounds on her tongue.

He hates the fact that he sees her plan already.

"You don't even need me," he points out, resisting the urge to try to kill her here and now. He doesn't have his armor. He doesn't have weapons. He's good, but she's got the Force and thighs that can crush a bantha skull.

"I'm not exactly... legit," she admits with a grimace. "Once you're back in Mandalorian space, you at least have an identity. People that will give you a place to stay. A chain code."

"And you don't."

She smiles, brittle. "Give me a week to scope out what I need and get us out of here, and maybe I'll explain."

A week. Fine.

And once they're out of here, and he has a blaster and a meal and a good night's sleep, he'll handle her.

----

He hates the fact that he likes her, still. People had already noticed, even just one day in. The first time someone notices he's giving Ashla the cold shoulder in the workroom, they joke at him about her not putting out. He's known her one day, and they think--

He stops the thought in its tracks.

Jango doesn't start fights here, but he is tempted.

"Oh, he wouldn't dare," Ashla simpers, sweet as spun sugar. "I bite."

She smiles, every pearly white tooth on display. The fangs near glint in the light. She eyes the speaker, squeezes the tool in her hand. Her tendons strain, but the metal bends with a creak.

The overseer shouts for them to get back to work.

Jango steps closer to her, lets his elbows brush against hers, and glares off anyone that tries to get too close.

"I don't need protection," she mutters to him from the corner of her mouth.

"I keep my word," he replies, hating himself for it.

He said he'd have her back. He may hate what she is, but... she left the Order. She's not a Jedi anymore. If he thinks it enough, he can believe it.

----

There's always a camaraderie in shared suffering. Jango is aware of this, and he feels his fondness for Ashla grow against his better judgment. They're both slaves on a spice ship, and he can't change that. It makes him tolerate her more than he sensibly should.

She acts like a Mando soldier, sometimes. She's not at all like Haat Mando'ade, but she knows some of the jokes that Mandalorians grow up with. She walks like a woman used to beskar'gam. She knows a drinking song or two.

(They don't waste the whiskey. It's for injuries, not intoxication.)

"I had brothers, once," she tells him, late at night. "A lot of them. They had a Mandalorian parent, sort of, but he'd never seen fit to really... let them have the culture. I lost them all, mostly to slave chips, and a few to just normal deaths, but... I learned what I could about Mandalore, after, for their sake. In their memory."

It's not a terrible reason, he thinks.

"Irony for you to end up in chains, then," he mumbles, and she barks out a sharp laugh.

"Tradition, more like," she says, and explains before he can ask for her to keep talking. "My... teacher was born a slave, and I... have a suspicion he ended up back in chains after we lost contact. His teacher was enslaved at least twice that I know of."

"Shitty tradition," he says, because there's nothing else he can think of.

"Could be worse," she tells him. This time, she doesn't elaborate.

----

He likes her more than he should.

----

He likes her so, so, so much more than he should.

----

She steals datachips when nobody's looking, using the Force instead of her fingers. She wraps dismissal around her like a cloak to access computer terminals without anyone but Jango noticing. She slips spice into the drinks held by guards and overseers.

She moves through the ship like smoke, in the dim lights of the false night.

Someone notices. Someone always notices, in Jango's experience, but they have no idea who's doing it. They lock down the cells for the sleep cycle, turn down the temperature, leave all the slaves shivering in their beds.

He pulls Ashla into his cot without hesitation, fits their bodies together to conserve heat, and ignores the rest. They're both soldiers; there's no shame in survival for those like them. The lekku at her back drapes over his neck like a scarf, and he almost wants to laugh.

He's pathetic. His men would be so damn disappointed in him, sharing bunk with a Jedi.

"You're thinking too loud," she mumbles, shifting somehow closer. The chill clings, creeping in through the thin clothes and thinner blanket, but he feels like it's bearable with Ashla here.

----

When they enact the plan, it's so much quieter than Jango would have run it. Ashla holds his hands in the early morning, before anyone is awake, and smiles. When she closes her eyes, sinking into a light meditation, the collar around her neck just... comes apart. Nuts and bolts and curves of metal float about her like a wretched parody of the mobile hanging above an infant's crib, and then land quietly on the nearest cot. When she opens her eyes, hazy and distant, she looks at his throat, and frees him with a thought.

It's a heady thing, freedom.

"Come along, Fett," she goads, almost crooning the words, backing out of the cell with his hands in hers. Nobody is awake yet, or at least they shouldn't be. Her words curl in the air like something cloyingly too-sweet, and he's sure it's her way of trying to piss him off. It's only working a little. "We've work to do."

Said work involves slipping past guards with a Jedi's timing, commanding them to sleep with a whisper and a poke to the forehead, and drugging the ones that she claims are resistant to Jedi tricks. The work is, as such, mostly hers to do. They hide the bodies, but the alarm goes off by the time they get to the weapons locker.

That's fine, because the weapons locker is where they were headed.

"Oh, hell yes," she hisses through a grit-tooth grin, and a matched pair of lightsabers float to her. Jango turns off the energy field by the time they reach her, and she hooks them onto her belt. Beskar plating follows, exactly the pieces that Jango had guessed from wear and tear. It's real beskar, too, not even an alloy, and Jango doesn't ask the questions on the tip of his tongue. She straps it on in practiced movements, without hesitation and almost without thought.

"See anything better than what you got off the guards?" she asks him. "Or did they all take the best blasters for themselves?"

"The latter," he says.

(His eyes trace over the armor she wears, and while she does wear it well... he's jealous.)

(He misses his armor.)

(Envy is unbecoming of anyone, but he thinks he can be afforded a little leeway.)

There are people in the hall by the time they exit, a dozen blasters at the ready.

The people in the hall are... not a problem.

Ashla had called it the Sword and Shield maneuver, when walking him through her experiences working in a Mando/Jetii team. He'd laughed, because the saber was the shield. She'd smiled at him, and he'd cursed himself for it.

If he'd had his armor, they'd have been able to move forward as a pair of unstoppable monsters. As it stands, they're... still doing that, really, just a tad slower.

"You're a Jedi!" one of them shouts. "You're supposed to be diplomats! You're not supposed to kill!"

Jango could laugh at that horrible, horrible lie.

"I am no Jedi," Ashla says, and the words cut through the air like something she's said a million times, and will say a million more.

Jango could do a lot with that line, tucked away in his memories for later.

There's a moment, though, where they're stuck at one end of a hallway, and the door to the bridge is just on the other side, and Ashla grins at him, a challenge in every inch of her body, and asks, "You wanna see something cool?"

He can't help it.

"You planning to show off, Jedi?" He can say the word without flinching, and it's... absurd. It's absurd. What in all the hells is she doing to him?

(He's been told that war makes for strange bedfellows, but he's long known that trauma does the same.)

He takes cover when she moves, and oh, does she move.

Ashla's a whirlwind, dangerous as anything and beautiful in her careful, precise violence. She knocks people out, more often than not, but there's more then one dead body left in her wake. It appeals to something in him. She flips and twists and throws people with the Force. She slices and kicks, and smacks people across the face with the blasters she lifts of their comrades. She headbutts at least two people, and then jumps to bounce off the ceiling and back down so she can land feet first on an enemy.

He hopes he'll get his common sense back when he's had time to put himself together, because the sight of those sabers doesn't make him flinch. After all he's been through, after all his nightmares, it really should. The sound alone should have him shivery and shooting.

Maybe there's just too much spice in the air.

A head drops to the floor in a different direction from the body it had previously been attached to. Jango's throat goes dry in response.

When Ashla stands at the end of the hall, a saber in each hand and the floor behind her littered in both bodies breathing and bodies bereft of life, she looks back at him over her shoulder. She deactivates her swords, and smirks. She's smug, and she makes smug look very, very good.

"So," she says. "Verdict?"

Fuck.

----

The bridge is easy enough to handle. They land the ship on a Republic planet, one with relevant authorities and at least some reputation for actually handling things with a degree of kindness and transparency. Ashla does the talking, letting Jango lurk behind her. She lies.

"Half-truths," she later tells him, in a low voice. The smile she wears is amused and self-assured, just a twist at the corner, and the slightest of pouts. He can't see it, when she leans in to murmur in his ear. "I certainly used to be a Jedi. They don't need to know this wasn't an officially-sanctioned infiltration."

Her breath hits lightly against his ear, and he wants--he wants--

"Have a comm code for any old friends?" Ashla asks, stepping away. Her face twists unpleasantly. Frustration, he's sure. "I've got credits, but no contacts."

He eyes the little pack she's got around her waist. "Stole that from the slavers?"

"We'll consider it payment for services rendered," she tells him, with an impish grin Jango wants to kiss off of her face, because apparently he's kriffing suicidal and wants to bed a Jedi. "I'll give you most of it, if you want. Call it the two years of backpay they owed you."

He snorts before he can stop himself. "Just one year, sorry."

"Oh, it's hazard pay," she insists, blinking innocently. "Dangerous conditions having been what they were, of course."

She presses a comm--probably also stolen--and a few credits into his hand, then loops her arm through his. She sets off at a lazy walk, ignoring the people who stare at them with distaste and disgust. "We'll find a hotel. We'll shower, with real water, and fancy soaps, and a little sonic just for the clothes. I'll run out and get you a basic outfit, and then we can go shopping, and once that's done, and you've had a chance to comm a companion, we can reunite you with your buddies, and you can go hunting for your armor, and I'll split and--"

"Stay."

She tilts her head at him, though she doesn't stop walking, and he feels his face burn. He hopes it's not visible. She hums lowly. He can't learn anything from it. "You hate Jedi, though, and I might not really be one anymore, but I'm still more Jedi than not."

"You wear beskar and speak Mando'a," he says. "You helped the Mand'alor. You're halfway to being one of mine already."

"One of yours, huh?" she mutters, eyes somewhere distant. He doesn't know what it is that she's seeing, but he's gotten used to it. "Alright, let's have this conversation again after you've had some sleep and clothes and a good meal, yeah?"

He can take that compromise.

----

"What do you mean, you're from the future?!"

#Jangosoka #time travel #Jango Fett #Ahsoka Tano #slavery tw #drugs tw #Phoenix Posts #I wrote this on a whim a few days ago but didn't get it edited until today #anyway have a nonsense

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charnelhouse · 3 years

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I'm absolutely feral over the idea of Val and reader having that convo about what sex with Heimdall is like. It turning into an encounter instead? "Should I just show you? So you can experience what brought our gatekeeper to his knees?" And then AND THEN "He can see us. If you call out-- just like that, so sweetly. Let's draw his attention, see if he won't join us." Heimdall deserves more love.

A/N: Valkyrie x F!Reader. Val x Heimdall. F/F Smut. Squirting. Non-Canon compliant.

It happens like this. Val is just trying to cheer you up because she kind of feels some weird sort of kinship with you.

After Hela, you’d gone all sparked out - used every last bit of your power to blast that demon bitch into what was left of the palace.

It still didn’t work, Val.

It did something.

Val knows a lot about defeat and she knows even more about defeat by Hela. Her name still breaks Val’s head open with image after bloody image: sisters falling like confetti - the spray of viscera and the crack of bone and all those shards of black ripping open Asgard’s finest. The silence afterward had been the worst. Odin had demanded that she stay - honor them - honor them - and Val had felt like honor had been peeled from her skin.

She’d sat in her armor for a month - collecting blood and infection and when she finally tried to remove it, it stuck to her like glue. She left after that - ran for the edge of the galaxy and stayed there to die drunk.

“We basically won,” she points out as you blankly stare at the floor. Thor and Loki are treading quietly around you - expressions slack with concern. It’s like you’re a piece of glass and they’re much too clumsy.

“I can’t feel my feet,” you whisper before you walk away from them - disappearing into some spare bedroom and shutting the door.

“Should we do something?” Loki asks just as Thor’s about to yank at the door handle when Val stops him.

“I’ll talk to her.”

***

It takes about a week. You stay bed-ridden and Val visits you at least twice a day just to check. Mostly because Thor is bewildered and anxious and half-distraught and won’t stop bothering her about it.

“Is she okay? How’d she look?”

“She’s fine. She’s healing. She used up most of her energy during the battle.”

“Should we call a doctor?”

“From where? The stars?”

“Bruce!”

“He’s a doctor?”

“Of many things.”

“No - she’s alright. Stop yammering like that - you’re spitting in my ear.”

***

Val lounges on the bed - watching you watch her. You’re really quite pretty - in a sort of shiny-silky princess way. Like froth and foam and scented oils.

But you were more than that. Val had seen you go near-nuclear as you slammed a force field of purple energy into Hela’s face. She’d tuck the memory away for late nights when she was alone.

You twist on your side - pressing your cheek into your palm as you regard her with interest. You’d managed to walk around the ship - join the weekly meetings to discuss the supplies and the journey to Midgard.

You were much better and yet Val kept stopping by your room. She found herself missing your conversation and she didn’t know what to do with that.

“So,” you say - tracing a pattern in blue sheets - branding the space between them. “You going to tell me about Heimdall?”

Val chuckles. “Curious are we?”

“Completely.”

And then Val pauses - finding herself a little caught off guard as you smile up at her. There’s something gleaming behind your expression - bright and mischievous and wanting. Val could have read all the signs incorrectly - she could be misstepping here, but she figures she can take a chance.

She gently reaches for your face - cradling your jaw and you lean into it - lips parted and the pink dart of your tongue.

Bullseye.

“Shall I show you then?”

“Please.”

***

You taste like power. Val digs her nails into your thighs as she presses the flat of her tongue from your fluttering hole to the bud of your sex. She drinks your essence with strategized precision. She’d had thousands of years of practice - of eating pussy and sucking cock. Your hips move beneath her chin - bucking up as she curls her fingers - massaging that sensitive patch of flesh that’s deep.

“C’mon - princess,” she teases. “Let go - just cum - I can feel that pretty cunt squeezing my fingers.”

You’re moaning and whimpering - hands wrapped firmly around the headboard as Val practically swallows you whole.

How’d he fuck?

Well - I fucked him - rode him until he just had to shut those eyes from the pleasure of it.

And then?

And then I let him turn me on my belly and screw me from behind.

Val had remembered it well. The thick blunt pressure of Heimdall’s magnificent cock breaching her folds - the tight channel of her sex. He’d ripped at her hair and bruised her hips and they’d made such sounds. Obscene. Desperate. Heimdall and his very low, feral grunts to match her own.

“Val,” you sob as she suckles the hard peak of your clit - as she begins to plunge her fingers to the knuckle - back and forth and back and forth - until it all gets very wet and your cunt starts squelching like it’s ready to gush and she doesn’t let up. She just keeps going as you writhe and plant your heels into the sheets and she can feel you clamp around her - hole blinking open and closed and your lower muscles bearing down hard upon her and then you go liquid - you spurt all over Val’s chin and she licks you through it.

It tastes a little salty and even a tad sweet - like the musk of flesh after a fight.

She idly wonders if Thor or Loki can hear you - wonders if they’d be fully scandalized by a Valkyrie tongue-fucking their sweet darling until she’d flooded Val’s mouth.

It’s pleasure. It’s a gift. It’s something they can share.

You’re shaking and trembling and still tugging at her hair as she soothes you through the sharp aftershocks of one very violent orgasm.

“No wonder you bagged Heimdall,” you mutter - slightly awed.

She nips your inner thigh before she slides up your body. Your chest is heaving - your lips parted as she kisses you sloppy. “Call out to him,” she whispers. “He’ll watch us.”

You blink at her - your skin burning hot beneath her touch. “Would - would he want to?”

“Yes,” Val says. “Maybe - he’ll even join.”

You grab Val hard by the hips before you flip her onto her back. She’s a little surprised - a little shocked as you smirk down at her like you’d somehow won something. Maybe - you had? Val hadn’t felt this desperate for someone in a very long time. She can feel your wet, puffy cunt drag across her thigh - your nimble fingers sliding through the seam of her wanting pussy.

“Heimdall,” you murmur against Val’s open mouth. “We’re waiting.”

#valkyrie x female reader #valkyrie x you #valkyrie x reader #valkyrie imagine #valkyrie #heimdall #thor #loki #thor ragnarok

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horsesarecreatures · 2 years

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Book review: The Radium Girls: The Dark Story of America’s Shining Women by Kate Moore

The is a work of nonfiction that tells the story of women who worked at two radium dial plants in the early 1900s painting the watches. The first plant was located in Orange, NJ, and the second plant was located in Ottawa, Illinois. During World War One, this was one of the most prestigious jobs women could get. They were paid three times the average factory floor worker, and were ranked in the top 5% of female wage earners, often taking home more than their husbands. Unfortunately, despite the fact that it was known among scientists that radium was dangerous, the mass public was not aware, and since it was used to combat cancer cells, radium was even promoted to the women as healthful.

Because the radium-laced paint they used for the watches often dried on the brushes, the women were instructed to “lip point” by putting the brush in the mouths to shape the brush and remove old paint. The founders of the companies knew perfectly well that this was dangerous, but encouraged the practice because it wasted less paint than dipping the brushes in water or using pens instead.

The women who worked at the plants started falling ill at various rates. Because it had opened first, the workers from the US Radium Corporation in Orange were the first victims. Since radium operates similarly to calcium by settling in the bones, the first symptoms the women had were usually teeth falling out. The spots where the teeth fell out never healed and became open, infected sores. More teeth would fall out, and then the women's jaws would then disintegrate. Other bones started deteriorating, and some women also developed bone sarcomas. They all died agonizing deaths eventually. In the beginning, the doctors and dentists involved had no idea what was going on, for they had never heard of radium poisoning. With the amount of young women from the same plant dying, however, eventually they pieced together that the mystery illnesses were related to the women's occupation.

I’ve read a lot of books about industrial poisoning, and this was truly one of the most egregious cases. The companies fired women who started showing symptoms to prevent the other workers from catching on. They never helped pay their medical bills. The Ottawa company’s doctor got rid of a corpse before the family’s doctor could do an autopsy on it. Once the Ottowa company got wind of the lawsuits that were happening in NJ, they had their company doctor examine all the women. The doctor found that over 50% of them were radioactive, but the girls were never given the test results and were told they were healthy. The companies never did anything to prevent lip pointing. The Orange company hired a fake doctor to publish reports that radium was beneficial. The crimes go on and on.

After years of litigation, lawyers in both Orange and Ottawa were able to get justice, but for many of the women it was too late. However, the press their cases received did eventually lead to stricter laws regarding safety precautions around radium being passed, just in time for World War II when the demand for it skyrocketed again.

This book was extremely well researched. Emotionally it was very hard to read, however. The book took a very personal look into the lives of all the women and their families, and photographs of many were included. Additionally, the town I grew up in is extremely close to Orange, NJ, and also has a superfund fund site from radium. Radium breaks down into radon, which is a known cause of lung cancer. I tested my father’s house 3 times for radon. All three times it was below the EPA’s cutoff level, but once it was borderline with the World Health Organizations stricter cutoff. Can't help but wonder if radon was a cause of his death. Going after modern day companies similar to the US Radium Corp is my career goal in becoming an environmental lawyer, though who the hell knows if there will be any broken environmental regulations left by the time the Supreme Court is done disemboweling the EPA.

#book #non-fiction #the radium girls #kate moore #bookblr #book review

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conradscrime · 3 years

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The Radium Girls

April 26, 2021

Between 1917 and 1926 the US Radium Corporation was involved in the extraction and purification of radium, used to produce luminous paints which was helpful at the time for producing watches used in the military. Radium admitted a very beautiful glow like feature, which was perfect for them to create radio-luminescent watches.

In Orange, New Jersey around 300 women were hired to work at this radium plant, their job was to paint the watch faces with radium. Because the watches were so small, the painting job needed to be precise, so many of the women would put the brushes in their mouths to create a very sharp tip, easy for painting small numbers on the watches and then proceed to dip their tiny paint brushes into the radium. The brushes were made of camel hair and needed to be kept sharp because after a few strokes they wouldn’t be. The women were encouraged to put the brushes in their mouths to prevent this from happening. The women were told that radium was completely safe and that putting the tiny amount of it in their mouths was totally harmless, in fact many of them thought radium was incredible as it would brighten their teeth and cheeks. Many women used radium as makeup.

While the women were handling radium and even ingesting, the scientists and owners of the radium corporation and plant were aware that radium could be harmful so they always avoided direct exposure.

U.S. Radium Corporation hired approximately 70 women to perform various tasks including handling radium, while the owners and the scientists familiar with the effects of radium carefully avoided any exposure to it themselves.

The women working at the radium plant began to get sick. The first people to notice that there was something wrong with these dial painters were their dentists. Radium was causing dental pain, loose teeth, lesions and ulcers. Other symptoms were anaemia, bone fractures and necrosis of the jaw, also known as “radium jaw.” The women were also experiencing no periods and sterility.

It didn’t take long for people to notice the connection between the women getting sick and their jobs. When others began to look into this the US Radium corporation denied that the women were exposed to radium at their workplace. The radium companies were even asking dentists and doctors to not release their data and they complied for some time.

The first “radium girl” to die was a woman named Amelia “Mollie” Maggia. She died a horrific death in September 1922 and had suffered from a haemorrhage from her mouth as well as weak joints which prevented her from moving. Her teeth began to fall out and her jaw ended up falling off of her skull. Yes you read that right.

In January 1922, Mollie got a toothache. When she went to the dentist, she was told that her molar needed to come out. A few weeks later, she went back to have the another tooth pulled. Neither of the wounds healed, but they grew together and seeped blood and pus into Mollie’s mouth. The dentist took more of Mollie’s teeth out, to no avail.

By May, Mollie’s dentist thought she would need surgery to remove a fast-growing abscess he’d found on her jaw. The dentist found her jaw bone ashy and a grey colour, so he gently prodded it with his finger. To his shock and horror, the whole bone crumbled under his fingers. The dentist dug Mollie’s entire left jaw out with just his fingers. This was due to the radium having stripped her bone cells of calcium.

The tumors she had had cut into her jugular vein and flooded her throat with blood, choking her to death in bed. She died 8 months after her first tooth ache. Radium could kill you in the most shocking and brutal way.

In 1924, 50 women were sick and 12 had already died. A lot of these deaths were attributed to other causes besides radium poisoning. Lots of women were said to have been dying from syphilis which was damaging their reputation. One of the women’s vertebrae had completely collapsed. Essentially her spine did the exact same thing Mollie’s jaw did. Some of the other women suffered from skin and throat cancer, cataracts and lost their teeth and hair.

Then in November 1928, something shocking happened. The inventor of radium dial paint died and became the 16th known victim of radium poisoning. The name of the inventor was Dr. Sabin A. Von Sochocky and he had died from getting radium on his hands.

The women in New Jersey began to fight the company, and a trial had begun. A doctor named Harrison Martland had discovered that Mollie Maggia had not died from syphilis, that was not found in her body, but there was radium found. This got the ball rolling.

However, over in Ottawa, Illinois the Radium Dial Company was in full swing, with women there also ingesting the radium while painting clocks. The Radium Dial Company was established in 1922 and by 1926 and 1927 the women began showing signs of radium poisoning, unaware of the trial and deaths in Orange, New Jersey.

When the women did discover what was happening in New Jersey from the newspapers, they were told that those women were not actually dying from radium poisoning, they were dying from viral infections. The employers were telling the women that the radium was indeed safe, despite knowing that tests determined the level of toxicity in the radium paint. The Radium Dial did end up switching from camel brushes to glass pens with a fine point; however the women said this method slowed them down and because they got paid for each clock they painted they switched back to the brushes.

The women in Illinois started asking for compensation for their medical and dental bills as they were extremely costly, but the company refused. It took a long time for a trial to start in Illinois, by the time the women found an attorney it was 1937, almost 10 years after the first women began showing symptoms of radium poisoning.

The women won their case in 1938, but it was then taken to the Supreme Court and the court decided not to hear the case, meaning the women won again. By the end of the legal battle, the women had won the case 8 times in total before the Radium Dial Company paid them.

In New Jersey one of the women, Grace Fryer wanted to due, but it took a total of 2 years for her to find a lawyer to take on the case. When the women found a lawyer to take on the case the litigation process was slow. None of the women were well enough to stand trial, their first appearance in court was January 1928, but none of the women could even raise their arms to take an oath.

Five of the “radium girls” - Grace Fryer, Edna Hussman, Katherine Schaub and sisters Quinta McDonald and Albina Larice joined the suit. The case was settled in 1928 before it was deliberated by the jury and each of the “radium girls” recieved $10,000 and $600 per year annuity. They also recieved $12 a week for the rest of their lives and the company had to pay for all of their medical expenses.

Some of the women of course were compensated for this horrific period in our history, but a lot of them were not. Most of the radium girls died horrible agonizing deaths long before justice was served.

The Radium Girls lawsuit played a role in emerging the establishment of the occupational disease labor law. Radium dial painters going forward were to use proper safety precautions and given protective gear when working with radium. Radium was still used to paint dials in the 1970′s.

#true crime #radium girls #history #justice

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