#ive had to get fillings in my back molars

[themarchrabbit]

Linked: a Washington Post article that might require you to put in an email address.

Article is about the prevalence of veneers thanks to celebrity and influencer culture. Writer believes Instagram filters are a partial influence on the want for "perfect" teeth. However, a Harvard-educated doctor who specializes in cosmetic dentistry, Sara Hahn, is interviewed. She discusses the long-term adverse effects of veneers, including the permanent damage done to teeth in order to put the veneers in.

obsessed with celebrities ugly veneers like who did miley cyrus new chompers and why aren’t they doing jail time her mouth doesn’t even close all the way

[swifty-fox]

mmmmm gimme that 18 and 22

18. from that one WIP thats no plot just vibes

all my MOTA fic is plot but ive got an old wolfstar supernatural murder mystery i abandoned

Remus is dreaming. Or at least he thinks he is.

It’s the type of dream where he can feel the tips of his fingers and the weight on his chest and every single molar in his jaw. The type of dream where dread and horror and fear sit in his lungs and prevent him from drawing breath. 

He is buried alive. 

He can feel the rich fertile earth covering his body, taste the clay and silt in his mouth. Crawling, desperate, hungry things slither over his body. He can hear the sounds of their chewing in his ears and he wants to scream only if he opens his mouth that will let them in. His flesh rots, his eyeballs melt out of his skull. The skin around his lips turns wizened and desiccated, peeling back from his teeth like the pages of a book.

Remus is bones, is decay, the worms feed on his decomposition and snakes slither through the latticework of his sternum. He breathes, and his lungs fill with mushrooms and soft nesting things. Butterflies alight on his corpse and sip the sweetly soured decaying flesh. There is a buzzing in his mouth, a soft wet bumblebee struggling to get out.

He opens his mouth. Mud fills his throat. The bee ceases her noise and a giant black spider emerges, scuttling past his lips and into the forest. 

His parents are screaming his name, screaming for him. To run. To fight.

Fight it, fight it Remus, you have to fight it.

Remus opens his mouth. He opens his mouth and the spider escapes. He opens his mouth and the hungry things come pouring in, devouring him from the inside out. He opens his mouth and screams.

There is a bird who sits on a tower. With beady eyes so clever. Who sees the curling petal. Of every single flower.

A boy is staring at him. A boy with blue eyes and blue lips and blue, bruised, dead skin. His palms are stained and his body is bare, dehydrated and loose-limbed like a porcelain doll torn from its stand. He smiles at Remus with bloody, perfect teeth.

22. that is so blissfully indulgent

me hwne Gale angst and also he loves John

Gale takes a deep breath to compose himself, tucks the jagged angry edges of himself back to face inwards. “You said you would write.” 

He glances up at Bucky and it's the other man who averts his gaze this time, face paling. He sits down heavily across from Buck and rubs a hand across his mustache, still avoiding eye contact.

“I meant to.” He finally says then laughs sharp and bitter, “I musta put pen to paper a thousand times. But I- well. The words just wouldn’t come. Figured eventually I might as well drive out and fetch you back with me.” 

Gale's anger stutters and then goes out completely, leaving him hollow. Of course, of course he wasn't the only one with memories that nipped at his heels. And John, the man that he was, had decided to do something about it for the both of them. Who shouldered a sixteen hour drive because of course a letter wasn’t good enough, he’d already chased Buck into the heart of enemy territory, what were a few state lines?

“John Egan,” Buck drawls, “always to the rescue.” Bucky laughs, a genuine noise that sounds so foreign in the cold bare kitchen.

John was fake on the surface and all real underneath. Real bravery and real heart, a man who jumps on an armed German guard to save his friend. Who volunteered on the next mission out all because his friend had been shot down. And Gale, well he was just the opposite wasn't he? All real on the thin top layer and below that nothing much of substance. A good soldier, a good leader; good at being a man in all the ways that garnered approval and respect. He honed it to perfection, perfect responses full of bravado, not too harsh but not too intimate either. But below that…there was very little to behold. No matter how many times the other guys told him, he told himself, there would always be the fact that John faced down armed guards and Buck ran

[fivetrench]

Got some teeth pulled thinking it would be the end of my suffering, just to have things get 10x worse and end up in the hospital 👍🏻

I need to rant about these stupid fucking moronic ignoramus dentists for a second so ignore this if you don’t want to hear about the literal dumbest medical malpractice to ever happen.

I had a cavity in my back molar on my upper left jaw. I went to the dentist four fucking times and they didn’t do anything that stopped the constant nerve pain. I gave up and was just going to live with it until a quarter of my fucking tooth snapped off while I was flossing because it was so entirely rotted that it had no structure anymore. They had told me time and time again that there were no signs of decay on the million x-rays they took, that it was just the fillings settling, that I just needed some fucking prescription toothpaste. Well, they were wrong and my tooth was rotting out of my goddamn skull for so long that the gum around it was inflamed and hurt to touch. So we go back to the dentist, they finally do something and give us a referral to the oral surgeon to get the tooth pulled. We go to the appointment and SURPRISE! They had no record of the prior examination of the broken tooth or the referral to get it pulled. So we had to fucking leave. We got rescheduled for weeks later. When it’s time for the appointment, they pull my rotting molar but also include my bottom wisdom teeth since they would’ve caused problems later on. Cool, great, whatever. They give me a prescription for an antibiotic and painkiller. In the WRONG PATIENT’S NAME. So we try to call them. For a week. Nothing. They did not answer or call back or anything. So I just had three fucking teeth pulled, one of which was literally decaying inside my mouth for a year, and no antibiotics for almost a week afterwards. To no one’s surprise, I got an infection in the area where one of my wisdom teeth was pulled. Constant pain, the wound was leaking a disgusting brown fluid that tasted so bad I thought I was going to vomit, and I could barely open my mouth enough to eat. So we go to the ER. I’m there for eight hours. 12am to 8am. The whole time my mouth tastes horrible, I’m delirious from lack of sleep, and I’m getting blood draws and IVs put in and CAT scans that aren’t helping with the fact that I feel like I can barely walk. Finally, my tests come back and the infection somehow hasn’t spread to the jaw bone, so they give me a stronger antibiotic and more painkillers. The end. I just can’t believe that this happened. All of this shit happened over the course of a full calendar year. 365 days of nerve pain and useless appointments and just being so damn tired. Doesn’t help that school just started and I now have Fs in almost all of my classes since I’ve missed so much. I’m just so angry. All of this could’ve been avoided had they just done their fucking jobs right. We’re never going back to that dentist’s office. If you live in northeast Ohio, stay the fuck away from Hudec Dental. They have no clue what they’re doing and will only make your situation worse. They are dangerously incompetent. Literally ruined a year of my life.

[novelcain]

OKAY! So when I was about 10/13 years old my mom took me to get a check up.. perfectly normal right? What could possibly go wrong.. oh yeah I was also there to get my shots.. I hate getting shots, always have always will.. it’s the syringe needles!! the fact that I know they have to be hollow enough for stuff to go in and out of the inside of those things is just wrong to me.. 😟 Anyway me and my Mom get there and everything SEEMS to be alright.. until the doctor comes back and says I have to get EVERY! SINGLE! SHOT! SINCE BIRTH!! OVER AGAIN!!!

Ya wanna know why??? BECAUSE THEY LOST ALL MY MEDICAL RECORDS!! ALL OF THEM!! 😡

Like okay yeah, shit happens I guess..

But.. my colorful, sugary sour Overlord.. They didn’t lose literally ALL my medical records once.. NOT twice!! NO no no no… BUT THREE FUCKING TIMES!!! In.. a.. row.. 😑 And all in the same Year.. I shit you not. 😤

Sssoooo yeah, I’m a bit traumatized and HATE going to the Doctor.. 😰

SO! 2020!! Covid shows up and I have to get a vaccine shot.. my Mom bless her heart comes with me, and I have to fill out the form… I spent an embarrassingly long time trying to write down my date of birth..

I was shaking so bad and ended up handing the paper & pen over to my Mom… Because I couldn’t remember which way the number 3 faced.. I was having a freaking mini panic attack.. at 21 🥲

I also had a panic attack & nearly fainted when I had to get my molars removed and the nurse showed up with the iv bag.. and I finally realized I was getting the syringe not the gas.. hadn’t panicked the whole time till that poor lady strolled in.. I think I scared her a lil when I started hyperventilating and asking my mom, wh-what what? What??? But it turned out okay!! That incident happened when I was about 18 I think..

🎃~

BRUH i know what you mean with the hating needles thing! I have had nothing but bad experiences with them. Like when I was younger I'd have to get allergy shots every week so I already HATED shots bc of that but then one day this super old bitch gave me my shot and literally stuck me so hard that the needle scraped my fucking bone! My bicep hurt for a whole month I couldn't do anything!

And then this one time I was in middle school and I had to get my blood drawn for testing, and some info about me I have always had very thick skin, and the nurse tried to use a butterfly needle but when she tried putting it in the damn thing broke against my skin! Anyways, everyone panicked for a hot sec and now it's in my file somewhere that they have to use big needles on me now! LIKE THE FUCK!?!?🤬🤬🤬

Ugh! If I sat here and told you all my needle stories we'd be here all day.

But my gods, how they gonna lose your damn records THREE FUCKIN TIMES!!!??? It's called a fuckin computer system you numb skulls! If it's really that hard to input the data yourselves then ffs just scan a pic of the records and save that!

Me: On behalf of my fruity heh subject, Skittle's gonna sue! *sprinkes dark matter on them bitches*

But fr tho same with the covid thing. In order to get my second vaccine I had to be drugged before going, and I STILL had a panic attack the whole time, not cause of my fear of needles tho. I mean it was a little bit because of the needles but mainly because of the agoraphobia. I think that was really the first instance of me being unable to function alone in public. I had to have Ritz and her mom there to talk for me and fill out the paper work cause I couldn't. I was shaking, I couldn't communicate outside of nodding to Ritz, and I couldn't even look at anyone other than Ritz. There were a few times I almost passed out inside of the clinic waiting room. I'm pretty sure now that I think about it that that was the last time I was out in public at all and that was almost 2 years ago. Definitely was NOT a good motivator to make me do it again lol. Sorry this is low key embarrassing for me to talk about and I honestly spent 30 minutes just deleting this and rewriting it over and over again before deciding to keep it

[beauty-grace-outer-space]

Long embarrassing vent/rant beneath the cut.

Hi, I have OCD (as we know). 

I also have a pretty intense phobia of something being wrong with my teeth. Not the dentist. Not dental work. Something being wrong with my teeth.

Two weeks ago ish I went to the dentist for my regular six month cleaning. They updated my x-rays, said everything looked great, got to cleaning. Yay. 

98% of the way through the cleaning, the hygienist said, “Mm, this spot is tricky” and told me my back molars are misaligned, which. Ok, panic number one cuz I had five years of work done to make my teeth straight and I wear my retainer religiously so what do you mean my molars are misaligned? And then he tells me they always have been. 

So I’m already like, “Uhhh what the hell?” because I never knew this and why wasn’t that fixed with my braces and oh my god have my teeth shifted, my top wisdom teeth never came in, maybe that’s what’s happening? But no that would have shown up on x-rays, and my nightguard/retainer is molded to the alignment of my teeth and it fits perfectly still, so there’s no way my teeth have moved--

And then the dentist comes in to check things out, and he kind of hones in on the same spot, right between my back molars. He asks for more x-rays of that spot. They did six x-rays total before something showed up. And with no preamble at all they said, “Ok we’ll just do a filling at it will be fine.”

And I started shaking. And crying. Because you’ll do what? I’ve never had that done before what does that mean what did you find on my x-rays? How did I fuck it up now? 

And they just... finish up the cleaning and tell me to go home.

As we’re walking out, I am like, “Wait you said... you said you have to do a filling, do you not?”

And the hygienist says, “Oh, no we do. But that will have to be on a different day, we don’t have the time today.”

He told me there’s the “faintest hint of shadow” between the two teeth and they want to do a filling before it gets worse. But to get to the spot between the teeth, they have to go through the top of the tooth. They’ll have to schedule an appointment, numb me, etc. etc. 

And I just... started crying and asked, “But... ok but what does that mean though? Like... what was on my x-rays?” 

And he looked very shocked and sympathetic and said, “Oh. You’ve never had this done before have you?”

And I just kept crying and shook my head.

And I just started panicking. I basically sobbed my way through scheduling, and the receptionist recommended that I do nitrous oxide at my appointment since I’ve “clearly got some dental anxiety”. 

I wait two weeks. I panic my way through each day, scared to eat or drink anything but water because I fucked up my teeth and I’m going to make them worse. I spent $200+ on dental care stuff/restocks (most of the things I already had but I bought more). 

So I’m crying and stumbling through an explanation that I don’t have dental anxiety, I am not worried at all about whatever they have to do to keep my teeth healthy, but in my head I’ve got a running mantra now of, “You fucking failure. You fucked up your teeth. It’s so fucking easy and somehow, after thirty years, you slipped up and fucked them up now and you’re a failure”. 

Then I remember that nitrous oxide doesn’t work on me. They tried to use it when they removed my bottom wisdom teeth because I was scared of the IV for the anesthesia to put me under for the procedure. They upped it until they couldn’t anymore, and I just kept getting more and more panicked until I passed out, still sobbing. And then I woke up, still sobbing.

So she tells me to contact them later to talk to someone about conscious sedation. 

So I schedule. I call. I discuss conscious sedation. It would cost 5x as much that way, but I can’t even make it through the phone call without a panic attack, so I pretty much have to. I reschedule it since I will be basically unable to do anything for 24 hours afterward. 

I sob my way to the appointment. I start shaking as soon as I sit down. Thankfully the drugs kicked in pretty quickly and I got very tired and calm. But the hygienist attendant who was monitoring my vitals asked why I needed the drugs/what I was nervous about, and I still cried even drugged out of my mind. 

They do the thing. I go home. I sleep it off. I wake up.

It feels wrong. It felt like someone slapped wall plaster over and between my teeth, let it leak out the sides, and left it there to dry. It’s rough and sharp and I can’t stop touching it with my tongue, and every time I tough it my brain goes, “You fucking failure” and I have an anxiety attack. 

By this point, I was so upset and embarrassed and anxious I basically just wept in the chair. Full body, heaving, ugly sobbing. The dentist was really nice. He kept asking how he could help me, and I just kept bawling that I’m crazy and I know I’m crazy but I can’t turn my brain off and every time I touch it and it feels wrong it sets off the mental loop again and I can’t do it anymore. 

It was done on a Friday. I had to wait until Monday to go in to have it smoothed/polished. They took off a lot. Apparently they left most of the bonding material just... on my tooth. Some material had gotten stuck to a spot of my tooth they hadn’t even worked on, and having that taken off helped. They also made it a lot lower on the top of the tooth. Just getting that off helped a lot, but it still didn’t feel right. I was still scared to eat or drink anything and it still felt wrong. 

So I went in again on Tuesday. They had the dentist come in this time to adjust it, and it was way better... but after I left I felt pressure between those teeth (probably from sanded off material shifting or something I don’t know) and had a full blown, hyperventilating panic attack. I went back to the office, they took my back again. 

They spent close to an hour polishing and smoothing it down. It wound up being 98% of the way to perfect, but there’s still one spot that’s sharp and bothersome and I can’t help but touch it constantly. And then the mental loop starts up again.

I’m going back in again today to have it hopefully polished again, and I am so desperately hopeful that once that last pointy spot is taken care of maybe my brain will relax for a few minutes and let me rest. 

I haven’t been able to sleep without a sleep aid in close to a week. I have 2-5 anxiety attacks and usually 1 panic attack every day. I’m still scared to eat or drink anything. I can’t eat or drink anything but water unless I have xylitol gum, floss, and a toothbrush with me so I can immediately go clean my teeth. But I also know that brushing your teeth too often is bad for them, so I’ve been limiting how much I eat and when so that I don’t overbrush. 

And at this point I’m so embarrassed and ashamed and upset for being so needy about it all that I never want to go to the dentist again, which would of course make things worse in the long run, which also makes me anxious. 

Even just typing this out, I’m like “Great. Now everyone is going to know I’m a failure who fucked up my teeth.” Which makes no sense. I know (logically) that it’s damn near biologically impossible to make it through life without thinning enamel or the occasional cavity. I know that there are genetic factors, hormone changes, aging, and many other influences beyond our control that can affect our teeth. And I don’t judge anyone for their teeth ever. Because I know all of this. 

I’m so tired. I’m so sad. I’m so angry at myself. My head hurts. My jaw hurts. My tongue hurts. 

This is a totally normal, standard procedure to help keep teeth healthy in a mostly preventative way, and the fact that I made it almost 31 years without having a single one is nothing short of a miracle. 

But my brain is hardwired for illogical thinking patterns and compulsions, and I can’t stop. 

And I’m sitting here anxious and hungry and upset because my appointment isn’t for another hour and fifteen minutes and I don’t want to have to brush my teeth twice before noon because then I will be anxious about brushing them after I eat lunch since I already “overbrushed” this morning. 

And my new fear is that I’m asking them to polish this thing down so much that they’ve started drilling at my actual tooth (since the filling itself is so, so small) and I’m actually causing more damage by trying to be comfortable.

It’s like I just can’t win. And I feel completely insane. 

[baahsu]

ichiji killing judge ALWAYS a+ (ive read your fic about it Many times 😌✊️) but there have been times where I've thought about him THROUGHLY torturing that deadbeat. letting judge live in agony and letting him die slowly, so slow that his death might as well have been considered old age

ofc we gotta imprison that bastard and put the mask on him. even better if its *the* mask, the exact same one that sanji used to wear, not a copy of the model or anything. itd probably be mostly rusted iron by now, laden with infections and filled with dirt and a few bugs. considering baby sanji wore it it was probably three sizes too small for judges big ass head, making it squeeze in places that cut off blood flow and bend in others that sliced into his skin. but its not enough to kill him so ichiji lets it happen with that small smirk of his <3<3

then (after a few days of letting judge rot in a cell with no food, water, and human contact, of course :3c) the neverending torture begins!! :]

i have this distinct vision of ichiji coming into the dungeon and entering judges cell with his evercalm demeanor, slowly walking over to him and lifting the mask a little, letting judge breathe and have a moment of hope that he was gonna be free...

...before continuing to leave the mask only halfway off judges face, ichiji instead putting his hands on both sides of judges head, holding him up with just 4 of fingers of each hand so that ichiji could pop that scumbags teeth out with his thumbs.

ichiji thinks its the funniest thing hes ever seen- how judges look of hope fell away the second the first tooth was popped out, his pathetic screams and cries increasing in volume, his desperate attempts to turn his head away getting more and more frantic, all to no avail.

it turns into a game for ichiji, guessing how much blood each tooth would release, wondering if this ones gonna go back in judges throat or ricochet and fall on the floor, playing with the idea that this one'll take out his gums, too..

it doesnt end until judge has nothing but a mouth full of blood and his molars left, ichiji looking at him with the same emotionless expression he entered the room with, and wordlessly shoving the mask back on him

as he walks back out the cell door, letting the click of the lock slamming shut being as loud as he could make it, he stifles a laugh at the sound of judge vomiting up his own blood. ichiji walks away without even looking back at him, only one thought on his mind

'I can't take out *all* his teeth. Then he wouldn't be able to eat. He would starve. Sanji wouldn't approve of that.'

HAHA OKAY IM DONE IM DONE. every time i write something in your askbox it becomes less of an ask/drabble idea and more of a goddman fanfiction lmao

p.s. i was thinking of adding a scene where judges blood flecks onto ichijis cheek and ichi licks it off without so much as blinking about it, but then i realized ichijis too skilled at this to get blood splattering around like that unless he *wanted* it to. either way im not letting that strawberry prince drink judges blood- he's above that!! if he wants blood than he can go give one of his siblings a hickey and drink it out of them instead 😌😌<3<3

Omg. OMG. This was so good from start to finish and when I thought it was over you just had to end even more perfection at the end and OMGGGGG

Listen, you can continue sending me whole ass fics like this, I'm not complaining at all, like I'm just sitting here in the middle of work smiling like an idiot at my phone and with my boss on the same room as me, but it doesn't matter! Because this is just so good and fuck everything else!

What you wrote about the iron mask is exactly what I ever wanted in my perfect fantasy, judge needs to be on sanji's shoes, to go through what he did, to go through worse, and wearing that same mask would be just the beginning. Every time ichiji took it out it'd scrape against his skin, cut it in mamy place, it'd sting and blood would trickle down under the color of his shirt and it'd hurt and be so uncomfortable

Ichiji saying sanji wouldn't like the idea of someone starving, even if that someone's judge, was so heartwarming?? He completely understood sanji!! Like, he can't relate to it, but he knows it's something important to sanji!!

And I agree ichiji shouldn't get judge's blood anywhere near his mouth, he doesn't deserve to taste something so disgusting, his brothers are definitely a way better alternative (I still can't believe you included that little part there?? I'm screaming over here, I'm going feral and completely insane, it just hit me like a truck and I loved it)

[youngpettyqueen]

procrastinating writing my WIP who wants to know about my weird filling story

so from ages 11 - 14 I had braces, I got em off right before starting high school. when I got them off and they checked for cavities, they found one in a back molar where one of the band for my braces were. this cavity was apparently so severe it was shocking I wasn't in agony, they had to check to make sure the tooth itself wasn't completely dead. anyways, got a filling done on it, but the filling was. weird

what the dentist did was he drilled away most of my tooth. and then, instead of filling it, he sort of just. covered it? so this tooth has always looked like it had a big scoop taken out of it. so fast forward a couple years, and I am suddenly feeling pain in that tooth. I have fillings much older than that one that still to this day havent done this, so its weird, but whatever. go in, get it taken out, get a temporary filling put in for a week, and then go back and get it all replaced. back to having a weird scooped-out tooth

fast forward to a couple months ago, so 8 years after this replacement incident and 10 years after the first filling. I notice it feels a bit odd in my mouth, like there's something caught, but I cant see anything so im kinda just feeling it out

and then I spit out part of the filling

I go and check and sure enough there's a big chip in it. I know its the filling, cause im not feeling any pain. I didnt know if I had insurance coverage, and im not exactly swimming in money, so I decide to leave it for a bit and go when its more feasible. surely it can wait till I get my new job and my benefits kick in, guaranteeing some coverage, right?

wrong. few weeks ago im eating and this time I hear it crack. I go check and now there's a big gap in the filling. fuck

delay it for a bit still, but last week I called the dentist and explained the situation. jump to today I go in, and this guy (new guy at the same place ive gone for years) looks at my filling and yeah, big crack, but easy fix. he fixes it up, and then he's like. kinda checking it out. before going "yeah no I dont like this, this isnt gonna stick at all, im fixing all of this" and spends another bit going in and basically buffing up this filling until he's satisfied

so now this tooth is back to looking like all my other teeth, and it feels fucking weird but im also immediately noticing great differences. for one thing, without the scoop-shape, this molar is no longer a food trap. for another, I can actually floss there now between that molar and the one behind it. there was just like, no tooth there, a little stubby bit where the scoop-looking-bit was. looking at it im shocked my gums never tried to overtake it

but yeah thats my weird filling story. id gotten used to the weirdness because I had that scooped-out tooth for a literal decade, but now im back to having a pretty normal tooth and it is WILD

[absoluteaffirmative]

vent below!

if someone does have random advice to share that would be absolutely lovely /gen

i feel lowkey silly for being scared of having a cavity since i’ve recently gotten bad with brushing every night and tomorrow i wanna tell my mom about this but im scared of getting ridiculed and then im scared that i actually do have one and something big has to be done or whatever

and ive been bad with brushing ever since junior year too like i’ll go days without and then think oh i probably should tonight and i even set an alarm every night to brush and i always just ignore it sometimes

like i don’t feel any pain or anything really funky but it doesn’t exactly look okay ish? then again my teeth are all weird and silly looking anyhow

i even legit searched up how to tell if you have a cavity and i could check everything off as false; i don’t have any lingering stuff from eating sweets, extreme temperatures also have no effect, the only issues being that im bad at hygiene in general and i’ve gone days on end without brushing (as i’ve stated before)

i’ve had cavities before when i was much, much younger (like. i think somewhere between kindergarten to 2nd grade maybe? whatever, i still have a filling from forever ago) and haven’t had any since then if memory serves me correctly

what makes this all feel worse is that im 18 so i might have to do paperwork n stuff and i am also absolutely TERRIBLE at calling people unless they’re very close to me but even then im still anxious when calling anyone

i’ll just be praying to whatever deity or other like entity that im perfectly fine and im just overreacting

also i should mention that the tooth im worried about is the bottom right molar (?) im not good at identifying teeth but it’s those big teeth in the back before the wisdom teeth

(and if someone here is able to actually tell what’s going on with what little bits of info i’ve provided that would be cool too. just please be nice about it)

[plush-rabbit]

Chop Chop

Picture Perfect Series

TW: noncon, murder

Word Count: 4.1K

A/N: Ive had this chapter in my head for a while

-

Daniel sits at his desk, typing an article about a highschool fire that had happened last night. He scoffs at the immaturity of it all. Don’t they know that the school had cameras and that they’ll be caught? He isn’t sure what it is with today’s youth that has them thinking they’re untouchable but then again, that is how all kids act- thinking they are higher than life, that somehow they will prevail above all else without a scratch. It’s cute in a way that a child will show what they believe is a work of art but is only just scribbles and crayon too dark and unshapely. They’re wrong, but it’s cute. He brushes his nose with a thumb and rolls his tongue in his mouth, feeling the grooves of his molars as a phone on the other side of the office rings. He’s at the last sentence, typing how the school will be taking action once the suspects are apprehended.

There’s a part of him that wonders how his child will turn out. You must have already aborted or miscarried the first, and he’s sure that you're already on the pill, but maybe he could swap them for placebos? He isn’t sure. You’ve been getting a bit too smart for his liking. However, he doesn’t want to dwell on that thought for too long.

There’s a knock on his desk and he turns with a bored expression to face a co-worker. Randall. He quickly flashes a tired smile and rolls a bit away from his desk to face him. “Randy, what can I help you with?” He isn’t the most charming, but he’s friendly enough for people to approach him.

“Dan, hey-” Daniel bites his tongue at the nickname- “you got any news yet on our residential killer?” There’s some sick, twisted thing about Randall. Morbid curiosity, perhaps. Some weird desire to know all the gore-y details, teetering on the edge of jokes about what it is that Ghostface does to his victims- even playing around with assault, curiosity so forefront that it’s clear he’s got some sick fantasies. “It’s just that it seems like it's been a while. You think he finally moved on?”

“You know, I'm not entirely sure. I haven’t gotten anything yet and you know me-” he flashes another smile and immediately drops it when he turns towards his desk- “always on the fast track to news stories.”

Randall leans over, skimming over the text and letting out a sympathetic hiss of pain. “Fucking kids, man. Always up to some shit.” Daniel responds with a simple agreement. “You know, I’ve been meaning to ask-” there’s a certain edge to his voice that has Daniel turning his head- “you still with that partner of yours?” His eyes flitter over to meet Daniel’s but he’s unable to hold eye contact.

There’s something that ignites inside of Daniel that makes him square his shoulders and think about giving Randall a personal meeting with Ghostface, but he only smiles tightly and twitches his jaw. “Tell me how kids and Ghostface lead up to a conversation about my partner?”

Awkward laughter fills the empty space but quickly dies down and many, stuttered apologies that leave the other man’s lips. “I just- you mentioned the other day how y’all were trying and I- you know, I was curious?” He says in a breathless tone of voice, clear discomfort written over his face.

“What you want to know how I’ve been fucking my partner?” There’s a certain edge to his voice that makes the other man squirm. Even if his obsession with you leads more into domination rather than a caring partner, you’re still his and he doesn’t want people to know the intricacies and inner parts of the relationship. There’s a pause as the other man tries to find his words and it makes him upset. He’s backed into a corner and suddenly he acts so scared like if he weren’t a sick fuck. “Well?”

A hand runs through the man’s short blonde hair. “Come on, Danny. I didn’t mean it like that,” he says now fidgeting in his stance.

Hearing Randall call him Danny, makes him want to take a pen into the man’s eye. “What if we weren’t together, huh? What? You’d go sniffing after my seconds? Is that it?”

He can feel the stares that the other coworkers are giving him and he allows it for now. “Danny, I didn’t-”

Suddenly, another co-worker pops up, standing in front of the desk and placing their hands behind the monitor. “Hey, hey. Why don’t we calm down.” Tatum turns to Daniel and it’s enough to make the man calm down. “Come on, Danny-” it leaves a different taste in his mouth compared to the other- “we both know Randy here-” they jerk their head towards the reporter clearly too red to breathe properly- “is just itching for all those juicy details. But I do have to admit, I am curious. Before you couldn’t shut up about them. And now? Well dang, makes me think that they left your sorry ass.” Their smile is gleaming, sharp and fun, and it’s everything that Daniel wants.

It’s everything that you were before him.

There’s hesitation on his end. Even before you both started dating and when you only knew of his alter’s infamousy, he still referred to you as his. Now, however, it’s as if the spark is gone. “I ain’t gon’ spill shit.” There's a smile attached to his words to make sure the cruelty of it isn’t too off-putting.

“Come on, at least give us a hint as to how they’re doing. They still cute? Still sweet as- how did you put it- ah! Right, still sweet as honey?” Tatum holds a teasing grin, leaning over the desk, Daniel can’t help but dart his eyes to the few buttons that baits him into looking at their cleavage.

“I thought the phrase was “sweet as sugar?”” Randy interjects, earning a smile from Tatum and a roll of the eyes from Daniel.

“They’re fine,” Daniel is quick to put the attention back on him. “We’ve uh- been going through it. Moving in is tough on the both of us.” It’s quiet for a moment and he isn’t sure whether it’s been emotions that’s been piling up from the time together or having a lack of outlet that isn’t you or murder, but the silence is enough for him to continue without further pressing. “They’ve been jumpy lately and it’s made it difficult for any type of- you know, intimacy.” He scoffs and his smile takes on something more grotesque. “They’ve been a real bummer. Fucking crying and shit, and I don’t know if it’s undiagnosed depression or something, but they’ve been lacking in self care and it’s fucking gross.”

A hand touches him and he realizes that Tatum has moved away from the monitor to beside him. “You can’t be mean to them about that, Danny,” the way they say his name sends a wave of heat over his neck. “I bet they’re trying, and well, no offense,” their caring tone has suddenly changed into something more playful, “you aren’t that easy to hang around either.”

His mouth goes dry, and he feels a nudge to his leg from Randall who gives him a certain look. He takes in a deep breath and fixes his gaze onto Tatum’s lips. A cute cupid’s bow that frames them so sweetly that he can feel a wave of heat in his stomach. “Whatever. If it wasn’t for the lease, I’d have dump them, by now, but when we do fuck, it’s decent enough to stick around.”

A hand puckishly swats at his back and lingers for a bit too long, curving slowly around his neck before fleeting away. “Well if it helps, I’ll be single for the foreseeable future and Randall here already admitted that he’d like those sloppy seconds.” Tatum’s smile lingers before turning away to Randall who looks a bit too excited at the proposition.

“Give it about a month, I’m sure with that on the line, he’ll find some way to make them break up with him,” Randall adds, a bit of wickedness on his tongue. “Ain’t that right, dear, old Dan?” He kicks at his leg once more, before moving off of the desk. “Anyways, I’m out. I need to go talk to the editor about an article. Later, losers!” Randall sticks his tongue out and gives a peace sign before rounding the corner, only to stop in his tracks and curse.

“Watch your mouth, Rand,” Daniel calls out, sneaking a glance to Tatum who lifts their head and moves quickly to where Randall stands. “Hey, Tate, where are you-” Daniel asks, surprised at Tatum having moved away, but then again as reporters, gossip is something actively sought out. It’s only when Tatum curses, that Daniel stands up, and when he turns, he’s looking at you holding a neatly packaged box- bento or something, he’s sure. Your name is on his tongue and it’s the first time he’s ever sounded so guilty.

“You forgot your lunch,” you say in a strained voice and you walk past the other two giving them small smiles in a greeting to thrust your arms forward to Daniel. “I thought I’d drop it off.” There are unshed tears in your eyes and when the box is in his hands, you leave immediately, not even bothering to tell him goodbye. It’s silent between the three and it’s only broken when he curses under his breath.

-

The mask fits perfectly on his skin, the soft cloth nothing more but a familiar kiss on his neck. He isn’t sure what he’s doing here. Well that’s a lie. He knows what he’s going to do, but he’s unsure why he’s here rather than trying to get you to talk to him.

You’ve decided to spend the night with a friend, claiming that it’s their birthday, but even you didn't sound too convinced at the lie. It crossed his mind that maybe you were having an affair, but what is he supposed to do? After you heard him insult you to his coworkers, you wouldn’t answer his calls. So now, he’s climbing into the window of Tatum’s room, and making sure to not knock anything over.

It’s not his first time inside their house. He knows exactly which floor to avoid, where to start to feel around for the coffee table with an impossibly sharp edge. He knows which door to open and to open quickly in order to avoid the squeaking. He knows how light of a sleeper they are.

The bed dips under his weight, and just like last time, they sleep without a shirt, their nipples perked and a thin blanket over their stomach. They always did mention that they have an unusually high body temperature. He removes a glove, and sets it on their stomach.

“Fuck,” he murmurs under his breath, creating a small fog inside his mask. “You really are hot.” He can feel his cock grow hard, and he clumsily removes the blanket that he’s trapped between his and Tatum’s body. A thin veil of cloth covers their sex and his smile is ever growing, crazed and hungry. “It’s been too long.”

Without wasting a moment, he frees his cock. He entertains the idea of the tight fit, the screaming and the pain that will make them wake, but he also wonders how they taste, the thick, slow drool of their arousal, and lewd moans that will only further fuel him. He brandishes his knife and the flat of it is dragged along their thigh and hooks under the cloth of their underwear and without much trouble, the cloth is torn from their body.

A free hand reaches underneath and fingers at their hole. It’s tight, but there’s just enough room for him to wiggle inside and massage at their gummy walls. It isn’t long until he hears the familiar squelching, the loving call to his ears as arousal coats his finger in a thin layer.

Tatum shakes their head, the middle of their brows furrowing and with a sadistic smile, he slips his finger out and grabs his knife with arousal around the handle. “Wake up, Tates,” he coos, leaning over, too impatient to wait to even let them wake up on their own. “Come on, Tates.”

In slow motion, he watches as they open their eyes, slowly, still bleary with sleep and still too tired to register what is going on. A hand rubs against their face and they wake up with a yawn and tears in their eyes. He lifts himself, Tatum’s body twisting to turn on the lamp beside the bed, and they blink rapidly. “What’s-” they don’t have time to finish the sentence when their eyes grow accustomed to the light and they see who is on top of them. Ghostface feels his heart beat in excitement when they scream and squirm under him.

“Hi Tatum, ready for a good fuck?” he leans over and he can feel the heat of their sex throb against his. “Because I am and if you’re lucky, I might even let you live.” To hell with prepping them, he needs this now. He grabs himself and presses his cockhead against their hole and their screaming, the moment finally becoming real for them.

“Oh god, please! I’m begging you!” Tatum shouts, their screams loud and deep and has him striking his palm against their cheek. Their sobs are loud and Ghostface is cutting off the remainder of their clothes, his hands harsh against their soft body, gripping at their breasts and massaging at the mounds. “I’ll give you anything you want, just please-” a hiccup disrupts their words and he’s unzipping his pants, moving the robe to the side and releasing his cock from it’s confines. Tatum’s foot kicks at his thigh and he brandishes the knife, stabbing it and dragging it beside their pillow, stuffing falling out as the cotton tears. Tatum lets out a scream that Ghostface immediately smothers with the ripped pillow.

“One more fucking scream, and I swear that I’ll rip you a new hole and fuck that one, you goddamn bitch,” he seethes, and it’s enough for the thrashing and screaming to stop, immediately replaced by sniffling and whining. “That’s much better.”

He’s wondered what it would be like to kiss them, to feel the salty taste of tears in their mouth as he pressed his lips over them, but he can’t risk a reveal of himself. He leans over, and his cock is slipped inside of Tatum and they scream and it only pushes them to rock further inside. “Fuck you’re tight,” he hisses, feeling something warm drip down his cock. To hell with it. He lifts a portion of his mask up and presses it against Tatum’s swollen lips and the taste is… off. He pulls away and he fixes his mask. He’s stopped rocking his hips and when he pulls out of them, Tatum, sobbing and turning on their side, his cock isn’t as erect as it is with you, it isn’t flaccid, but there’s no excitement.

“What the fuck,” he wonders out loud. He’s thought about this- creeping inside of Tatum’s home, fucking them and seeing their reaction the next day, seeing how they’d react, and yet, with the opportunity presented in front of him and his cock still covered in arousal and blood, there’s no spark. It’s not like it usually is with you. Fuck. Tatum isn’t you and for some fucked, deranged reason, he wants you. He clears his throat and Tatum’s quiet sobbing stills. “Change of plans, Tatum, you weren’t nearly the good fuck I thought you were.”

Tatum turns, peeking through the space of the bend in their arm and they watch as he raises the knife in the air and lets it pierce into their skin. Blood rushes out, and they keep twisting but he overpowers them, and they rest on their back, and his knife is digging in between their shoulder blades and there is a sickening crack in the air.

-

With heavy bags under his eyes, he enters his apartment. He drops his backpack beside the door and he can hear the early chirping of the birds. He’ll count his blessings if he managed to remain undetected, but right now, he rather not do much other than sleep. Of course, being him, he has things to do before he can rest.

He grabs the backpack and walks into his room, opening the closet and dropping to his knees. His hands scour the space, pushing things out of the way and shifting his hands around until he finds the piece of wood with a certain groove. He pulls and an empty space of black blends with the closet darkness. Gently, the backpack is placed inside and he uses the flashlight of his phone to make sure the covering is secured and looks no different than the rest of the wall.

Forcing himself to stand, he goes to lock the front door. Paranoia scratches inside of him, acid burning his tongue and a headache forming until the familiar click of the lock is in place. When he turns his head, he finds your bag on the end table.

You’re home.

Walking around the couch, he finds you curled up, asleep with the throw blanket under your head. He frowns. He wonders when you got back. Why you came either so early or so late, depending on the time. Why did you even come back at all? It's no surprise, it’s a week day, you have commitments you need to tend to. He sighs and sits on the floor in front of you, knees bent and arms circling around them as he leans back to turn his head to look at you.

Has he really ruined you? Has he taken what was an already anxious person, but with a smile so wide that it attracted him and twisted and broken them until they were nothing but a shell of their former self? What had your friends said about your recent change? Do they know about your encounters with Ghostface? Do they know that he has a mask and that he wanted to roleplay? Do you know? Or at least have an inkling that it could be him? No. He’s made sure to at least not interact with you for a while, but maybe that should change. The whole fiasco with you listening in on him rant about you has already pushed you away and when he sent you a message, you didn’t reply to him. His hand runs down the side of your face, your skin imperfect in little ways that makes him lick his lips and let out a shuddering breath. Maybe Ghostface should pay you a visit. Just something quick and fun- for him, of course- in order to make you run into his arms for comfort. That’s all. He needs you back.

With a groan, he shimmies his hands under your body and lifts you bridal style. You curl against his chest, your face hidden and the floor creaks under him as he walks to the bedroom. His hand curves against the back of your head once he reaches the doorframe, the wood scratching along his knuckles, but protecting you from that little injury. It surprises even himself. Carefully, you’re set on the bed, your body still curled even though you’re free from his grasp. The light switch is loose between his fingertips and he groans- another thing to fix himself. The fan spins slowly before turning on, and filling the room in cool air. He shimmies himself out of his pants, kicking them to the side and running a hand through his hair. There’s no use pulling out the comforter only to have it half unused, so he grabs a blanket at the foot of the bed, clutching it in his arms as the bed dips under him.

He lays on his back, the blanket covering the both of you and and slowly, he turns his head to your sleeping frame. It’s not guilt that he feels for all of what he’s done to you, but he can’t help but feel melancholic about it all. You fear him and that’s enough, but you also fear him. It was never supposed to be like that. You were supposed to fall in love with him- so dependent on him that you’d never leave him. Yet, he and you are the ones pushing each other away.

You shift in your sleep, your arms bending and hands curling underneath the pillow. You whine and there’s the sign of you beginning to wake up. You shift and shut your eyes so tight that creases form between your brows. He wants to watch you, see how you'd react to being in bed, knowing that he carried you, watching and realizing that he was watching you sleep.

Does he have to apologize to you? He’s sure it would make you feel better, but he doesn’t want to. You let out a contend hum and he watches as your eyes flutter open. You see him, and you look so sad. A hand raises, and he goes to cup your cheek, but you turn away, hiding your face in the pillow and he hates how small that has left him.

“How was last night?” He doesn’t want to apologize. He won’t. But he doesn't want the tense air to linger. He doesn’t want to see the way that you pout, and feel how uncomfortable the air gets because you refuse to talk to him. You peer back at him, and he’s glad that you’re the type to feel awkward with apologies. You always seem to make everything easier for you.

“I don’t like the things that you said,” you whisper without looking away from him. He clenches his jaw- he spoke too soon. “I- You wanted to date me. I tried to push you away, but you kept persisting. You were the one who wanted me to move in with you.”

“You were crying the next day. Whining about your nightmares-”

“They’re not just nightmares!” You say loudly, your weight supporting on your hands as you rise. Your eyes widen and you look away, sitting with your legs pulled to your chest. His eyes widen and his breath stills. “They feel real. I- When I talked about the fact that we rushed into this, you got mad,” you hiss out the last word and he can hear the strain on your voice. “And now, you go on and bitch about me to your coworkers and it’s embarrassing,” you finish with a heavy sigh. You look at him, and for some reason, you feel so far away from him. “Am I just a decent fuck to you?” Daniel doesn’t answer, because he doesn’t know how. You scratch around the shell of your ear, your nervous tics finally shining out and he comes to sit beside you. “I’m sure we can work something out with the lease, but my friend did mention that I could room with them for the next couple of months.” You twist the side of your shirt and he can see the faint outline of the tag.

“I don’t want you to leave,” he murmurs, his head resting on your shoulder.

“You act like you do,” you retort.

“I don’t want anyone else, but you. I just- Look, life is shit and I know I’m a piece of shit and I’ve ruined you, but you’re the one good thing that has happened to me and I-'' he sucks in a deep breath and the words fall flat. He won’t say it.

“You need to start treating me like a partner, then, Danny.” He won’t say it, and because you’re so much better and worse than him, he never has to.

“Yeah,” he breathes out. It’s silent and he’s growing tired by resting his head on your shoulder. You’re still and when he pulls away, he can see just how tired you are. “Do you want to go to that new restaurant tomorrow? You know, the one with the theme of bears?” You turn your head and you smile at him, and without thinking, he leans in and closes the gap between the two of you. His phone rings and when he pulls away, giving you an apologetic smile, he looks down at the screen. A missed call from Randall, and a new message that vibrates in his hand telling him to call him now. He tosses the phone and before you can ask, he’s kissing you again and you taste so much better than anything he’s ever had in his life.

[vesperstalksclones]

Whats this? A naughty story about REX??? 😱

(18 +) - be warned!!

Warnings: Graphic descriptions of sucking off a Vod. Im not blushing, you're blushing

Uses: cures boredom, loneliness, anxiety, and scratches that "itch"; helpful for all clone lovers, but especially those who are preoccupied (like me) with the idea of going down on one of our gorgeous troopers. 

Ingredients: a bit of deep throating, ample saliva, hair pulling, teasing, and lots of sweet sweet clone rod

A lil sumthin sumthin inspired by the glorious bunch of peeps that admin for and show up at clonesandmoans.

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"On. Your. Knees." Fives postured, hands on his hips, trying his best to look as dignified as possible. 

Jesse burst out laughing and his friend's poor attempt to mimic their commanding officer. Amidst chuckles and heckling from the other clones, you sat chewing on your lip, trying to make sense of Fives' act.

I knew Rex as a stern commander, albeit he was thoughtful of his men. I'd never heard him speak with such a dominant and aggressive tone or issue orders in such a basic way. What was Fives on about?

"I don't get it…" 

Fives and Jesse glance up at the sound of your voice. They had become two of your best pals since coming on as a med tech three months ago. Torrent company was known for getting the job done, even if it meant getting blown up in the process. The result was a patient load in the med bay that often flooded in to the halls. The modest staff couldn't keep up, even with the support of the clone field medics. The call had come in for more hands, and yours had been chosen.

"Mph" Jesse grunted. "Umbara. A shit traitor named Krell. He did us pretty dirty; lost us a lot of brothers."

Fives chimed in "Rex took it pretty hard. He felt responsible as our CO. It was his decision to execute Krell. He said that; commanded him 'On Your Knees'. Now when he's pissed that's our tag line…." Fives ducked his head, glaring up from under his brows and growled out the words low in his throat. 

I swallowed hard. I couldn't deny that I had a thing for these men. They were fit and firm and strong. I had handled so many of these gorgeous tanned bodies since I'd reported to Torrent and It was a guilty hidden pleasure of mine. I was glad to save their lives and stitch up their wounds and soothe their fevers. The fact that they were built like every maiden's fantasy under that armour was a surprising and welcome bonus. 

And then there was the Captain. He always presented with an air of quiet dignity. Even when he professed worry for his injured troops, he always always remaind poised. Many of the other soldiers jumped at the chance to flirt with a young available female. Especially one who's job included removing their clothing and occasionally (if they were lucky) touching their twig and berries if necessary. Some, like Fives, were shameless in their chatter. He'd offered to service me several times. Honestly it didn't bother me, he was so sweet and silly and friendly about it, like an overly large puppy. That's how we became friends, as messed up as it seemed. He had offered to paint my molars. I politely declined and checked around his balls for herniations. Instant besties. 

 Rex had never had to present to me before. Apparently he preferred to report to his medic, Kix, for treatment. No, I had only ever traded injury reports and small talk with the commander. He was always perfectly poised. Focused. Buttoned up.

I wanted to unbutton him.

In the most depraved ways I could imagine. I wanted that decent, respectful man to use me like his play thing and leave my sticky, sweaty, and shaking.

Again… a dry swallow at the thought.

Fives cocked an eyebrow at me. 

"Hey uhh… Jess! Look at this shit!"

Jesse swung around, joining us. "Whats that Vod?"

Fives lowered himself to my eye level. He repeated the low growl, and had the heat rising in my cheeks. 

"You fekking like that don't you ad'ika??" Jesse snickered and ruffled my hair. 

Fives stroked his goatee. "Got a thing for the good Captain, do you Nurse? Well…"

"Kriffing… ugh! Fives stop!" I covered my face not sure if I was embarrassed or relieved that my friends had found me out.

I pushed him out of the way and scrambled up from the lounge chair. "I have to run! My rotation starts in 15! Jesse, Fives, … keep your mouths shut… or I'll order cavity searches on both of you!"

"Don't threaten us with a good time!"

                             ○○○○○○○○○○○○○

A few days had passed and I had all but forgotten the exchange with the boys. I was preforming an inventory in a satellite med station, counting off bandages, checking the use by dates on IV bags… important profoundly boring work. Footsteps echoed in the adjoining exam room, big and heavy. Looking to the door… there stood the captain… clad in his boots and blacks, arms crossed as he studied me.

I straightened and tidied myself. 

"Yes Captain?"

"It's come to my attention…" he thought for a moment, " some of my men think I make you uncomfortable."

Uh….

"I beg pardon? Not at all sir!" I crossed the room, intent on showing him that his presence was not unwelcome. "Whatever gave them that notion?"

"Apparently a discussion of my behavior in the field caused you visible discomfort…"

Fucking Fives. And. Jesse. They would die for this.

"No sir…" I thought back to Fives impression and couldn't help but flush from the thought. The real thing was standing an arms length away from me. And we were very alone. 

I stared into his amber eyes, the square stern set of his face. I imagined his full lips forming the words. Commanding me.To my knees.

The heat crept up my neck and into my cheeks. I couldn't look any longer without embarrassing myself.

"It seems to me ad'ika, that you are not being very truthful." His lilting accent filled my ears and I wished for… rougher.. words to be graced by it.

His thumb and fingers gripped my jaw, his palm pressed against my neck. He lifted my face and leaned close enough for me to feel his breath on my skin.

"It seems.." he continued, his rich velvety baritone came softly "...that you might appreciate it if I were to speak to you in a way that many would consider.…indecent."

I took a shuddering breath, my mouth falling open. With just that simple incantation my body caved entirely to his spell, and I felt tingling heat spread through my belly. 

What was happening??? Was this reality? Was Mr Duties and regulations coming on to me???

"What if I would? What would you do about that?" I whispered, testing the terrain.

"I'd certainly oblige." He replied, running his thumb across my bottom lip, "Anything to make you feel more at home."

"Just doing my job sir."

I was physically shaking with the need to grab hold of him."

"Anything to keep you in peak condition".

Oh God, that was terrible. I didn't dare speak anymore, afraid at how quickly my capacity for structured thought was deteriorating. 

I lept at him, pressing hungry lips to his, getting a tight grip at his shoulders.

Rex palmed my ass and lifted me easily, sitting my down roughly on the exam table all the while fighting for my tongue. He positively devoured me, pulling my chest tight against his, bending me backwards to accommodate his height.

"How do you like to be touched?" He gasped between kisses thrusting a hand under my shirt and spreading it across my navel.

"I'll like anything you do to me. Just use me Rex." It came out like an order more than a request. 

His lips quirked into a sly grin. He pulled my shirt over my head and quickly hooked my sports bra with his thumbs, dragging it up my arms. I expected it to be flung away as well, but at my elbows he made a deft twist of his wrist, and the garment tightened like a snare. One big hand pulled my arms backward, arching my torso so that my breasts stood up like lonely mountains before my chin. His opposite hand pressed to my rib cage, and crept around smoothly examining my flesh. He traced the bottoms of my breasts, then slowly closed over one as he watched my face. My jaw had dropped lower with each inch over movement and when his calloused thumb and forefinger teased my nipple to a harder pebble I loosed a groan. It was wanton and desperate and I knew he liked it because his smile showed his perfect teeth, right before they descended to the other breast. 

I couldn't help it but my eyes rolled back in my head. The feeling of his lips nibbling my bud, his teeth pinching, and his rough tongue teasing, combined with the opposite hand massaging was enough to put me out of my mind entirely. 

I uttered a deep moan as the heat of my lust spread through my veins. Sweat beaded on my forehead and my thighs shook a little with anticipation. 

"Do you like being at my mercy?" He whispered against my soft skin, the hand at my elbows tightened my "bonds" with a small adjustment of his finger. "I could do whatever I want to you… and you'd have to just watch."

 My eyes widened and I could feel my pupils dilate. I was eager to watch. 

His hand slid down my hip, then thrust underneath me and gripped the waist of my breeches. He hauled them down my thighs, then ducked and hooked my knees over his shoulder. 

"What if you aren't ready for me?" He whispered, his voice rough and gritty with arousal. He slid his free hand along the backs of my bare legs to where they met, tracing a finger along the fold of my sex.

I swallowed dryly, silently begging him to find out for himself. 

He slipped two large fingers within me, exploring the spaces near my opening, then upward to gently stroke at my clit. The action pushed a desperate whimper past my lips, and I tilted backwards, reveling in his touch. 

"No ma'am!" He chided, slapping me gently on the base of my rump. "You damn well better be paying attention, I don't appreciate being ignored."

He scowled, stepping away from my legs and hauling me roughly to my feet. 

"Generally, when I catch a trooper drifting off I have to make an example."

I trembled at the thought of his "punishment". 

He jerked at the twisted cloth that still held my arms, the other hand plastering me against him, his member pushing hard against my navel. 

"Drop."

I stared at him defiantly. His eyes glared down into mine. Danger and raw power pooling in their depths

"On. Your. Knees." 

I was defeated with little resistance. The command dripped with his dominance, and my weakness to it made itself known by conveniently running down my thigh.

"Yes sir," I rasped quietly. My mouth suddenly not dry anymore. He fucking new what I wanted. 

He loosened his grip on my arms, allowing the garment to slide free as I lowered myself before him. I clasped his thick thighs and guided him to turn and lean against the exam table. I pulled up the top of his black body glove, tracing my tongue over his abs. 

"Take it off," i whispered, "I want to look at you."

 The captain obeyed, rolling his bare shoulders and flexing his physique for my benefit and the view was splendid! My hand roamed with my eyes, up his rippling torso as high as I could reach and back down again, tracing the bronzed curves and inspecting a few ragged scars. He was a man built to be physical, compact muscle and sinew, wrapped in bronzed silk. My hands found the arch of his hips and hooked the waistband of his skin tight pants. Pulling them down slowly my eyes greedily devoured the V-shaped muscles that pointed the way to my "punishment". He was already sporting a raging erection, and I was forced to unhook him from the elastic before I could peel it away further down his thighs.

 His member arched upward before his belly, and without having touched him yet, I was already pretty confident that one of my hands couldn't close around him fully. By nature he was much darker than the rest of his skin, and his darker scrotum was drawn tightly, ready for work. 

He tapped me on the forehead with the spongy head. "Hey!" I giggled, pushing him away. 

"You're getting distracted down there! Get to it."

I cocked my head to the side, quirking an eyebrow up at him, keeping my eyes on his as I ran my tongue along his shaft, teasing at the vein underneath. He kept his face flat and stern, lips still pulled down in a scowl. 

Still watching, I repeated the long lick, but this time closed my lips over his head, tracing circles within my mouth. He twitched,  rolling his neck a bit, fighting to remain the dignified officer. 

I allowed my saliva to gather in my mouth, promising him mentally that I was going to put that military rank right in its grave. Perhaps he didn't know that caf was only my second favorite thing to put in my mouth. His punishment was my forte.

My lips crept slowly down his shaft, my tongue spreading saliva the entire way, preparing him for my attentions. I stopped about half way, and repeated the motion a few times. Sucking lightly with each retreat. He fidgeted with his jaw a few times. My hands circled his hips and gripped his hard ass, pulling his pelvis forward, while he remained leaning against the table. Watching intently, I descended along his cock again, my eyes holding his as innocently as I could manage. His own widened the deeper I took him, his lips finally dropping open with a gasp as he slid in to my throat and my lips pressed to his bronze skin. I swallowed against him, my tongue flitting about and drew away, savoring the deep groan that I was pulling out of him.

Gotcha captain.

I quickened my pace, not taking him as deeply, but sucking with force each time, my fingers clamped around his hips, arched into claws. Holding him prisoner. 

I would break away periodically, running my lips along the sides of his shaft, allowing his arousal to calm a little - no sense in hurrying him along. I wanted to savor this beautiful man.

His hand groped for my head, gently fisting my hair, the other finding my upper arm, kneeding and stroking as he drown in my touch. 

"Ah.. ah...ah'd...ddd..ikka".. he stuttered through his passion, when I took him again in my mouth. "Can you go harder??... GAH!"

He threw himself back as I scrubbed over his head with my tongue, toying with the small opening there. "I love your touch, Dala, its so good! I want to move but I'm afraid I'll hurt you!"

I surged forward down his cock, tearing another moan from his throat. Pulling away with a wet slurp, I met his gaze.

 "Well, do it then, sir. Aren't you the one punishing me?" I asked, stroking him firmly in my fist. 

He grinned, combing back a few escaped locks of my hair and closing his fingers through them firmly. Sliding my closed hand to the base of his member, I chased it with my mouth, tensing my neck and shoulders, the other hand traveling along his thigh to stroke between his legs, caressing the tightened globes there.

I repeated the motion again and again, varying in force and intensity, as the Captain's breath grew more ragged. Pushing him well past his limits, he began thrusting back in to my face, struggling to temper himself and not knock me senseless. The fist holding my hair would occassionally forget itself, hauling me away or forcing me forward when the pleasure got the better of him. I moved with him, savoring the taste of his skin, the salty warmth of the pre-cum that I was pulling out of him, the thrill of pleasuring this man with my mouth and hands. I had been hungry for him. Positively ravenous. And devour him I did. 

His moans were becoming louder and more frequent, with gasped praises and prayers flung from his lips at odd intervals. 

I sucked harder and moved faster, fighting my way towards his release. 

"Ngh!! Ad'ika! I'm close!" He cried. I met his eyes. "I want to… aagh!" he shuddered, loosing his train of thought momentarily. "I want to cum on your face!!!"

I couldn't very well nod, but unstead answered by putting my best effort in to the grand finale, tongue and mouth and hand working in unison to push him over the edge. 

His lashes fluttered shut, his head dropping backwards, Rex thrust against my mouth, a noise building in his chest. He repeated the motion with me. Again. On the fourth roll of his hips a shout tore from his throat, and I felt his hot seed pour over my tongue. I pulled away, allowing thick ropes of his cum to land on my cheeks and lips, down my neck and chest. 

I stroked his hips and thighs as he leaned back on his elbows, his climax rolling through him still. Sitting back on my heels, I simply enjoyed the sight, watching him in the afterglow of his release. He was still trembling, with the occasional violent shudder, breathing raggedly, his shaking hands kneeding at my wrists.

Eventually he lifted his head, fixing me with a bright eyed grin that made my insides positively twist. 

"Damn woman, that was intense!" He gasped, pulling me to my feet. He admired his handiwork on my chest. Then, with an impish grin, he signed off near my collar bone with his index finger, satisfied I had been properly chastized. 

"You ass!" I squealed dodging away. 

Laughing, he grabbed me and pulled me over to the sink. We quickly cleaned up together, and he pulled my breeches away along with socks and clogs. Snaking an arm around my waist, he dipped the other hand between my thighs, which was in quite a state: stimulation to my mouth tended to make me a hot mess. 

"Stars! Where is all of this coming from?" He nibbled at my lips, tasting himself in the process. 

"I guess its my punishment for not paying attention", I cooed saucily. "I suppose I'll have to tend to that elsewhere."

"Perish the thought, Sugar." He fisted himself, working his member as he kissed me again. "Give me a moment and I'll be in top form…" his voice dropped into the low growl that rattled my insides, " then we can continue with your…. Reprimand .."

He scooped me up, and dropped me unceremoniously back on to the table, pushing his already firm cock against my opening. 

"Your recovery time Rex, my God!" I gaped in wonder. He guided his member to my opening and sunk into me slowly, smiling at my low groan. 

"I've told your superior I need you to help me purge old injury reports. Should take the entire rest of the day..." He exhaled slowly, enjoying the delicious friction where we were joined. "... and I've a laundry list of poor behavior that needs to be "disciplined" out of you"

[sirpibbles-blog]

Smile For Me,  Dr. Habit/Flower

My first fic ever, like ever. So I'm sorry if it's bad!

Damn that got dark. I just love this tooth man.

THIS IS PURE SIN

Warning: Bad end Dr. Habit

TW: kidnapping, drugging, yandere-ish behavior

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

The constant dull buzzing of the overhead lights was a reminder of your situation. You can’t tell how much time has passed since you woke up here. The sun’s slow descent from the sky was evident from the window.

Minutes? Hours?

He had never left you alone so long before. The anticipation was as painful as the silence.

Most days he couldn’t keep himself off you. His constant jittery mannerisms combined with a non-stop need to control was something you’d gotten used to. 

 Dr. Boris Habit’s habitat became your home less than a month ago. You were a skilled florist, always enamored with flowers. Something about them never failed to make people smile.

The vibrant hues of nature seemingly worked as a natural remedy for sadness, and you knew just how to use them. Arrangements of bright pastel roses could melt hearts and thaw hate.

And still after all this, you ended up here.

Flowers couldn’t fix your crippling debt, your studio apartment, or the emptiness in your heart. The once vibrant and color-filled life you lead was slowly fading. Getting out of bed became a hardened struggle. Waking up only to see the dim greys cloud your vision was unbearable.  Even when continuing to care for your flowers, you knew that you couldn’t live like this.

So you called The Habitat.

The ads were.. unique to say the least. Bright colors and enthusiastic advertisement caught your eye and the eyes of many others. People like you had been sold on the idea of “finding their smiles” through whatever miracle therapy Dr. Habit was offering.

And now you were stuck. Alone. Strapped down tight to a dentist’s chair. Waiting for the madman to come back and do whatever he pleased with your helpless body.

As if on cue, the metal doors behind you began to creak open, screaming on their hinges.

“FLOWER, DID YOU MIS ME!!? : - ) ”.

While you were unable to turn around and see, that booming voice made who it was more than apparent. 

“I’M SORRY FLOWER,, I was Away far too long : , - (  ”.

After hearing the light clinking of glass behind you, two large encumbering arms wrapped around from the back of the chair to squeeze your small form.

It was a treatment you had gotten used to, even if it was unwelcome.

“DON T WORRY MY SWEETS,  I pro mise I’ll make it Up to you ; - ) ”. He sang and gave you another hardy squeeze before stepping back to circle you. His eyes traced your form as he walked, an ear to ear grin stretched thin on his face. 

Keeping his eyes trained on yours, Habit digs one of his hands into a lab coat pocket revealing a tiny glass vial. A murky pink liquid glistens from inside the glass. 

“Did you no tice you haven t been Smiling, Flower??”. The doctor swirls the shining liquid to his own rhythm. "Be cause... Ive noticed" Habit sways as his honeyed voice softens. “SO I got you a PRES-ENT!!” He adoringly coos before taking a syringe from the office countertop. Habit's syringe sucks the viscous fluid up from it's vial.

“You will be so habby, Flower : - ) . This will Make you so hapby. I wa nt to see You smile for me my dear.”  

“I N E E D TO SEE YOU SMILE FOR ME” …

A long hand grips the flesh of your arm, caging you in between the chair and Habit’s sturdy frame.

“Do nt worry-worry, Flower.. You Wont hurt t for long : - ) .” The needle pushes into your soft flesh, guided by his steady hand. Habit softly coos sweet nothings against your cheek as he drains the needle deep into your veins.

It burned. A deep burning that spread through your entire body. The pain had you writhing in his arms, but he held on tighter. With Habit’s form constricting you to a bone breaking hug, you had no choice but to endure it. Your heartbeat slowed after a moment. The rampant beating it once paced was now a dulling thump in your chest. 

As your breathing slowed to the rhythm of your heart, Habit knowingly leans his forehead against yours. The strength in your limbs was lost, now limp against your captor.

“SSHh my little Lily.. let Me see that lov-ely~ SMILE!” Habit begs as room blurs. You’re too weak to resist as a long gloved finger prods your plush lips. After a moment of tracing the plump flesh, the appendage pushes into your mouth. His eyes burn into yours, studying your face intently as he curiously pokes around. The long finger traces the outlines of your molars, slowly and adoringly. He hums proudly, letting, go of your arms and shifting to caress your face with his free hand. 

You weakly gag as he presses his digit into your saliva-soaked throat. Your eyes tear up and your vision flickers more violently than before. You can barely register Habit removing his finger from your violated mouth before suckling on it himself.

The last thing you remember are his words before smashing his lips against yours with an aggressive thrust. An invading tongue explores your mouth with passionate vigor. He circles your canines before sucking hard on your teeth, draining the air from your lungs. Sleep's heavy embrace had never been so inviting.

“you're mine Now, Flower.. and you'll smile for me.... Just for Me~”

 : - )

[twistedingenue]

wisdom teeth update: They have been removed. IV Sedation was pretty glorious, and took about 45 minutes, including getting setup and knocked out.

They were pretty good about my anxiety-- I held my phone for comfort right up until they started nitrous. For the record: I’m 34, my wisdom teeth mostly erupted by the time I finished college.  Not impacted, just malpositioned. I already had to take out a 2nd molar because of them. 

Short dental timeline: I started seeing a dentist when I was about 30 with an emergency root canal.  Since then, I’ve known I needed my wisdom teeth out -- the angle meant they were impossible to keep clean. I even had a secon molar removed already. But money and nerves never aligned. About a week and half ago, I started getting pain when I worked out and realized I needed to dig out my oral surgeon referral -- my bottom right had started decaying.

The consult was about 15 minutes. Xrays and meeting the surgeon, who explained what he wanted to do. I filled out forms, got prescriptions, arranged all the billing info, and lucked into a canceled appointment slot, instead of having to wait a month.

Which is good, I was starting to need more pain meds to sleep.

I have dental insurance, but since it wasn’t run in time (I got a really quick surgical date), I had to pay 25% up front. Total before insurance was about $1600. I expect to get most of it paid for, maxing out my benefit for the year, aside from cleanings.

So far, 6 hours later, I’m still waiting for my right cheek and chin to stop being numb. After hours of gauze, I scrambled around for bagged black tea (I knew I kept the bagged stuff around for a reason) and after about a half hour of biting down on that, the oozing stopped.

Pain hasn’t been too bad. Ibuprofen only so far, but I’m expecting it to be worse tomorrow when everything wears off. The side that’s still numb is the side with TMJ.

I have antibotics, heavy duty pain meds if needed, something to help prevent dry socket

I’ve had 2 cups of pudding, 2 cups of lukewarm chicken flavored soup, and a cup of lukewarm tea. So not too bad. (what I really want is a nice burger. Or maybe a burrito. So hungry)

Also, I totally timed this right. Carl’s, the best ice cream ever, opened back up TODAY. Sending my husband out now.

[largethingslargerthings]

Meditative Week of Poetry: Donald Platt

I.

The older I get the more layered with memory grow those places dearest to me.

II.

Eleanor and I take my new red canoe to O’Hara’s Landing on Twin Lakes. Taylor, the college kid collecting launching fees, waves my twenty dollar bill away, points to thunderheads building over the lake like black cotton balls, laughs, and says, “Forget it. You’ll be back in half an hour.”

III.

                               All late afternoon, Eleanor and I paddle into the past. First, we go to my parents’ old, crooked, damp, drafty summer house, long since sold. We stop paddling twenty feet from shore.

Eleanor remembers the house’s upstairs layout, which I had forgotten. She says Grandma and Grandpa’s bedroom was in front over the screened-in porch. It had the best view of lake and mountains. Uncle Michael’s room with his brass bedstead was in back. It looked out on pine trees. I still smell those pines in my sleep.

IV.

The Mahicans called one lake Washining, meaning “Laughing Water.” The other, Washinee or “Smiling Water.”

V.

Thirty-two years ago, Dana, pregnant with Eleanor, and I paddled in a blue, not red, canoe around the island’s far shore. We pointed to a gnarled hemlock that curved out over the water like a long arm extended towards us. That tree’s still here.

VI.

                               Last summer, a weeping willow shaded the small spit of sand where Rosanne and I picnicked—cherries, brie, sourdough baguette, pinot grigio. Her voice was low wavelets lip-lapping that sandy, shaded shore. The tree still weeps.

VII.

This summer has been week after week of rain. The new red canoe glides so quickly over old boulders I remember from past years protruding above the water like worn-down molars.

VIII.

We paddle through rain squalls, get wet, don’t care. Rainwater sloshes back and forth along the canoe’s bottom.

IX.

My parents and brother are dead. My marriage is over. I am filled with sorrow briefly.

Now I wring sorrow out like rainwater from my sodden T-shirt.

X.

Then Eleanor and I see a great blue heron rise on its slow laboring wings up from some cattails.

XI.

In flight, the heron stretches out its long neck until it’s almost a horizontal line from beak to breast with one slight crook. When it had stood stock-still on its impossibly thin stilt legs, it bent that neck snakelike so its body assumed the shape of a capital S at the beginning of a sentence I am still learning to read from my childhood primer.

XII.

In the stern, I steer. We’re heading back to O’Hara’s Landing. Eleanor’s thin, strong, tanned, bare shoulders flex beneath her white sleeveless T-shirt, as she paddles into her future.

Our paddles leave small whirlpools that vanish in the water behind us. We will remain together—father, daughter, lake water.

[lpfreakification]

Morning thoughts + jots, i suppose?

1st order of biz-naas is resistance. The resistance to spend on Jet Pens. The last order was made back in early February. I figure i should give up Jet Pens too for Lent. I'm not in it for the spiritual + religious aspect. It's more of a sense of control. So pizza, chocolate, + Jet Pens away it goes!

2nd order of biz-naas is positive memories (should i call it this?). i had two positive interactions yesterday at work :) 1. After serving a group, one of the group members called the manager + said, "you got a special one right here". O.O omg. I had the sense of "fulfilling my destiny" to do good hovering above me. All that work is paying off + customers love me (even though the majority are my neighbors).

Ok interaction #2: This was last night at work too. One of my former classmates is a regular on Tuesdays. Its really refreshing to have a positive, respectable classmate + also a neighbor to come in weekly :) he invited some more of his friends to hang out. One of his friends remembers me from floor hockey in high school Early Bird PE. I remembered him too :D he told me i was the best defenseman (defensewoman) + i was also 1st pick bcuz of it >X3 man, my favorite part of defending is charging full speed to the opposing player (2nd was keeping the ball away). That sure intimidated some. Luckily i was aggressive too. Playing against the guys gave me a reason to "beat them up" + let any other aggression out. Floor Hockey was my favorite activity. Even back in middle school. None of the girls wanted to play. The majority sat there to be pretty while some didnt want to get hurt by the boys. I played w/ them despite them making me goalie most of the time. Thru-out the years of playing, ive gained the respect of the boys. Knowing this years later, i feel very proud of myself X)

(Ok, didnt mean to go too far down memory lane this morning.)

Number 3rd order of biz-naas is today's physically painful endurance. Kickboxing for starters at noon. Not to bad right? Nope. Thats not what im afraid of. Its the dentist appointment afterwards. This wont be a typical dentist appointment for fillings. I'm getting a crown on the back of my bottom left molar. Ive seen the videos on how this 2-part procedure will work. I'm used to the numbing. I'm used to the drill. What im deeply afraid of is the pain that'll follow through. Im so glad today's my day off to suffer in silence. Makes me in the mood for Jello today.

Oh! 4th order of biz-naas is Birthday plans :D i proposed to the parents that we can go roller skating for my birthday this year :D i've been taking lessons since early February. It's perfect bcuz its on a Monday. The siblings can have some lessons 1st + then we can skate for fun. And when we're done, we can go to *Benihana's in Oakbrook.

*Benihana's is my choice in case i dont win the "Lent Competition". That + i was uber jealous that the family went to Benihana's with my grandma in January while it was so dead at work that Sunday :(

Now im finished w/ clearing the thoughts i wanted to say quite badly.

Hmmm, its about to turn 9 AM. I guess i have an hour or two to myself b4 i get ready + go kickboxing.

[dont-ever-show-weakness]

Thanks to everyone for the comforting words about the shots. They gave me plenty of topical and laughing gas so I didn’t feel a damn thing. At one point I had to get a shot in the roof of my mouth without numbing gel and I was so surprised with how much it didn’t hurt. I had a great dentist who was really great about handling me with my fears. Today is the first time ive ever been to a dentist (ever) and we were all really surprised at how good my teeth are all things considered. I ended up needing 3 fillings and the source of my pain ended up being 2 of my wisdom teeth. Turns out they were infected and referring the pain to my front molars, so i had them extracted while awake!! I’m really proud of myself for facing my fears today and getting my teeth taken care of. I go back in 2 weeks for a cleaning and I’m not feeling anxious about that at all. From now on, I’ll be seeing the dentist regularly. I hope my recovery is quick because I don’t feel so great right now.

[sidpah]

Night Sweats

Sitting in the ER, just after 1:00 am, my mother dozing in the electric bed to my right… This chair incredibly uncomfortable… Hard, and bent up in all the wrong places. I wish I could sleep too. I’m exhausted and can’t be bothered to turn this old mala anymore... Thumb sore and fingers cramped… I spent the last twenty minutes or so repeating Om Tadyata, Bekandze Bekandze Maha, Bekandze Radza, Samungate Soha, but then started to fall asleep and got left with that dizzy sick feeling as I jerked awake, nearly tumbling from the chair.

Can’t imagine how filthy an ER floor must be...Especially this time of night. I’d have to bathe in antimicrobial foam...

I’m writing just to stay alert. Don’t want to risk it.

A woman a few cloth-bisected partitions over is complaining about currently being high on heroin; not complaining because she’s high, rather complaining because she’s here and they won’t let her leave... Saying she’s gotta get the fuck out because she’s got someone waiting for her in the fucking parking lot, and she’s gonna rip this fucking IV out and leave, but the nurse keeps insisting they can’t legally let her go in this state. I don’t know whether to be more anxious about my mom’s well-being or whether this woman’s boyfriend or dealer or pimp, whoever, is gonna come in here in a hail of gunfire to fucking liberate her... This is no environment for sick people.

We’ve been here an hour, hour and a half now. The nosebleed started around 10:00 p.m. I was in the shower, getting ready for bed. She called for the ice as soon as I stepped out of the steam. After hastily tossing on my clothes, sticking uncomfortably to wet back and legs, I wrapped one around her neck, holding the other thick gel pack just below it against her upper spine.

She was sitting on the edge of her bed, blood gushing out so fast it poured over the wad of five or six Kleenex she held pressed ineffectually to her face. Familiar hot knot of nerves in my guts. A prickly web that spans the inside of my lower torso from naval down through the left half of my posterior. Asshole burned with an acid flare. Felt like I had to shit out something awful, but sat there on her bed next to her, legs draped over the side, one arm awkwardly arched up to keep pressure on the ice. My jaw tight, clenched. I would notice it, loosen it, and a minute later rows of molars would again be digging into their counterparts. She grabbed another handful of tissues, wrapped them tight around her nose and blew. A small spray of blood coated her forehead. I always hate when she blows it, but her ENT did say she had to get the clots out for it to stop. All those fucking clots… Thick purple leeches hanging from her nose, pulled writhing and fighting into the tissue. Like some terrible exorcism or nose-afterbirth. Clot after dark bloody clot, thick; no one would believe anything that solid and meaty could emerge from someone’s nostril. It looks like one clot could fill an entire sinus cavity. And that’s where they’re coming from, the ENT told us. Like a whole traffic jam gridlock of massive ugly slugs, all trapped inside her face.

Her hemoglobin was only 9.1 last Monday, so it’s gotta be in the 8s now. After those two hours of gushing, though, I’m betting on 7s. Maybe even a high 6. I wish the doctor would get in here and order the fucking bloodwork already. They hooked up a bag of saline. That helps, but she’ll be swollen with edema for weeks because of it. I wish I didn’t already know these things...

There was the terrifying moment, like the three or four similar terrifying moments that I’ve already handled much better than I thought I would, when she started to curl like a threatened caterpillar because she didn’t have the stamina to remain propped up any longer. And I asked, “Do you want me to call 911?” And she answered “I don’t think so,” or “I don’t know” which always means an incontrovertible YES. Another thing I’ve learned from years of caretaking is that if someone who’s obviously ill refuses medical care, do not under any circumstances respect their wishes... So her best code phrase for me to call is to say she doesn’t know, or refuse to say; then I dial immediately. “I’m gonna call 911,” I told her. And those awful words, “I just need to lay down,” as she collapsed to her right onto the pillow, one hand still weakly squeezing the bridge of her leaking nose. Her nightgown saturated with blood, a whole bag of gruesome tissues at her feet. I’m waiting for a suspicious trashman to call the cops on us one day. It’s bound to happen. There’s at least one, if not three or four bags of completely dissolved, inundated tissues, smelling of stale saliva and meat and rank sickness in our barrel every week. I don’t know how we’ve managed to go uninvestigated this long...

The 911 operator is always too calm for my taste. But the paramedics came, and the one obligatory police officer to make sure she’s in a “safe” environment. They strapped her into that strange yellow carry chair and lifted her down the steps. Transferred her to the loud clanking stretcher and then pushed her under swirling red lights, probably waking all our neighbors.

And so here we are, again, white sheet pulled up to her neck, her thin nightgown with all its red floral blotches still visible through it. Every time this happens I wonder if it’s going to be the last time. The time. So far, it hasn’t been. I wonder if it’ll feel any different when it finally is… Probably not. I suspect all days of tragedy feel just as unremarkable as any other...