#lung function panda.

[mildmayfoxe]

here’s what i worked on during lung function panda. that’s not what i typed but im leaving it. i dont think its finished but idk

[eosofspades]

I am asking you about the magic in KFP

thank you for asking!! this is gonna be an INSANE take from me, number one fantasy enjoyer of all time, but i... i really don't like the magic in kung fu panda.

every sequel in this series just ups the magic factor and i don't like it. kfp1 had just enough that i felt like it worked, and it was more of a mildly fantastical take on the actual technical science of acupuncture and nerves, which was super cool. in kfp2 the "inner peace" thing i ALSO feel worked, mainly because it tied in hugely with the entire rest of the story, the themes, and the text. it wasn't even about learning magic, it was ABOUT inner peace, and the "magic" that po was able to do at the end was about balance and harmony. it also sort of narratively functioned as a foil to the more "technological advancements" of lord shen's army.

i... i actually am not crazy about kfp3. i DID not like the full-blown spiritual power of chi that everyone could do, i didn't like kai as a villain on the whole (this is more about themes and narrative, which is a separate rant i have, but him being a "spirit warrior" was so ridiculous to me i laughed when he said it, rather than actually being intimidated.)

part of this is because it just plainly deflates the ending of kfp1 - po using the wuxi finger hold was like this HUGE thing that the whole movie had been building up to, and in kfp3 now EVERYONE can do it?? with ease?? i feel like it cheapens the intensity of the first movie's ending.

i have a harder time describing the second reason i dislike it, so please bear with me, but i feel like the magic elements in the third movie in particular (kai turning everyone into jade creatures, po's giant golden dragon), are... dissonant, to me. jarring? i feel like they are TOO over-the-top and these Big Important Things to the point it feels like this doesn't line up with the previously established rules of this universe. there was VERY little magic in the first movie at all - the nerve attack is more scientific; the only truly *magical* moments are oogway going to the spirit realm, and tai lung being sent there, and both of those times, it feels much less like characters are using magic, and much more like magic is happening to or through them.

but the BIGGEST reason it bothers me is because it is thematically wrong. despite the brief magical moments in the first movie, the story was NEVER about learning or using magic. in fact, it was the oppsoite; the story was literally about the fact that there WAS no magic! the whole point of the first movie, literally the entire message, was that there WAS no magic power! there was nothing magical about the dragon scroll!! there is no magic there is no secret ingredient it is just YOU and what you are going to do with the body and mind that you already have!!!!

for what it's worth, i know animated film trailers almost always suck, and kfp4 MIGHT surprise me, but i doubt it. the chameleon might be a cool character, but i truly believe if they included a chameleon character in kfp 1 or 2, their power wouldn't have been actual shapeshifting, just good kung fu and maybe camouflage abilities; definitely not a full-blown shapeshifting power. because the first two movies used supernatural abilities / events with just enough moderation that it struck a PERFECT balance between the themes of the story and the previously established rules and bounds of the universe.

[zeravmeta]

so i saw kfp4. thoughts below. spoilers obviously read or dont im not your mom

unsurprisingly it was disappointing but surprisingly not disappointing in the way I expected, and honestly I came out of the movie a bit madder than expected because the concepts presented could have actually been pretty amazing if done well

so the main plot as presented is that the chameleon is the cool new badass villain whose main gimmick is stealing the powers of past kung fu villains and thus po and the new ally zhen must go and stop her!!! and this is where the problems begin

im just gonna say it: zhen is not only disappointing but also a character that functionally should not exist. shes immediately presented as being a Cool and Quirky Dastardly Rouge and so much of the movie hinges on us liking her but we have basically zero reason to, and throughout the movie she has literally no character arc. the twist is that she was working for the chameleon the whole time to steal po's staff, and now suddenly she feels bad about it and wants to help po because its. the right thing i guess. thats word for word the reason given. shes ultimately a nothing character who basically coin flips twice in terms of personality, and there's nothing to her

the chameleon, on the other hand, is beautiful missed opportunity

so as shown in the trailers her main gimmick is stealing the powers of past kung fu masters to be your standard copycat villain, but unlike what was expected, her backstory actually makes her pretty interesting:

the chameleon is just like po

she was a kung fu super fan who went from master to master across china, to every and any dojo she could find, all so that she could actually properly learn kung fu, but she was rejected for being too small. too weak. for being nothing more than a little runt, the same way po was just a big flabby panda that no one believed in

because of this, she decided to become a sorceress, with the goal of actually stealing the kung fun mastery of the masters in the spirit realm so that she can actually be worth something and no one could ever tell her that shes lesser again. literally the first line she says to tai lung when she summons him (and to some of the other masters) is that shes a big fan, and continually keeps naming the special techniques of each master she takes from ala the way po fanboys when being attacked by other masters

Honestly, she could have been the perfect case for a redeemed villain, because the big next lesson shifu presents to po in this movie is that its time for him to move on from being the dragon warrior, and to select a successor to that title while he becomes a spiritual grandmaster, equal to oogway, to be better than not only what others believe but what he himself believes. The chameleon and po were both characters that no one believed in and who succeeded despite the odds, which the chameleon herself says and po lampshades by going "man the amount of times a villain has told me we're identical, but this time its true".

Thats part of where the other issues come in: Tai lung and the spirit warriors summoned.

Tai lung in this film was not only missed opportunity, but he (and the past villains shen and kai) are so wildly out of character its kind of weird that theyre even in this movie. They basically show up at the tail end of the film just to have their powers stolen and get put into cages, tai lung says oogway made the wrong choice with po (kai and shen dont have a single speaking line), and when po wins we have tai lung going "maybe... oogway was right after all" and then they all bow to po and go back to the spirit realm.

..................yeah.

quick addendum a whole bunch of characters were also out of character, mainly shifu being a bit more dickish than he usually is, and especially po whose just like. a cop?? about zhen. "youre a thief therefore EVIL" and shying away from the criminal underworld section of the movie. like guys this is the guy who broke into a museum literally so he could geek out about the displays. but yeah

If they Seriously Truly Desperately Needed the successor plot point, there is both tai lung and the main fucking villain as options, and each are charming for their own reasons and leagues better than zhen: Tai Lung to finally achieve his dream after he'd basically been lied to his entire life and maybe reach some kind of reconciliation with shifu, and the chameleon to follow through on the themeings of the franchise of someone's belief and hard work actually being what allows them to be good at kung fu

instead we get lame fox zhen whose so much of a nothing character that the best sequence with her was right at the end of the movie when the furious five cameo and go through a montage of her eating shit the way po did initially.

aside from all the plot stuff the movie is a little wonky animated, like it actually is well animated and cool like all KFPs but the character designs and backgrounds did feel a little out of place, though the chameleon def works style wise.

ultimately malding because this movie could have actually worked really well if they just switched out a few things: Have the chameleon fool po for his staff, steal tai lungs powers, and then tai lung and po have to work together to defeat the chameleon with the rest of the movie having them reconcile as two people who worked towards impossible expectations, ultimately culminating in them defeating the chameleon with this same lesson, and maybe po either anoints tai lung as the new dragon warrior (if hes allowed to stick around) or maybe the chameleon as the new dragon warrior and someone for po to help redeem

boom far easier 10/10 movie with no stupid aggressively "like me pls" fox character. oh well, i love stale bread and water without any ice, see you in kung fu panda five everybody

[rei-caldombra]

Kung Fu Panda 3 Review- An average movie in an above-average series. 

I finally watched Kung Fu Panda 3. I watched the first two movies when they originally came out but did not get around to the 3rd or the show. There will be direct spoilers. 

The first Kung Fu Panda is one of my favorite American animated movies. It does pretty much everything right. Amazing visuals, very funny, great action, and has genuine heart and emotion to it. The movie flows very well. Tai Lung is a great villain. The scene between him and Shifu is the best scene of the entire franchise, revealing a story that carries so much dramatic weight despite its short focus. This scene also showcases the movie’s fantastic animation even outside of the wonderfully choreographed fight scenes. I cannot gush enough about how amazing the fight between Tai Lung and Shifu is, and how much emotion is displayed in the seconds where Tai Lung genuinely considers letting his anger go. This movie was such a surprise gem, the fat person jokes you’d like would get grating never did. And these jokes get executed on very well, even playing into his fighting style and motivation. 

Then 2 followed up on the 1st with another well executed movie that succeeds for most of the same reasons while also feeling like a nearly perfect sequel. It has a much more mature tone throughout the movie that felt like it aged with its audience and Po himself. Shen is another fantastic villain, having a chilling and dramatic backstory that resonates with his actions and the characters. With the first two movies Po genuinely comes out a layered and engaging character. It felt like a perfect continuation of the series. I still like the first one the best, but this is another fantastic movie. 

Sadly 3 does not reach the same heights as its predecessors. The movie feels more direct and on the nose with what it goes for, lacking the subtlety and richness of the first two. The tone is one area where 3 suffers a lot. This movie has some emotions it attempts to get at. But I don’t feel like any of them really hit me very much. I think this movie balances the comedy and drama worst of the three. I think there were more times where the jokes felt ill-timed or unnecessary. Some of the seriousness is undercut due to the comedy side of the scale being too heavy. The movie does succeed at being funny like the others. But I felt more of them got a bit more repetitive. This movie feels more like what everyone expected the first one to be like before watching it, if that makes sense.

Kai just felt like a functional villain to me. He does not have a fraction of the presence Tai Lung and Shen did. His backstory with Oogway did not feel very substantial, especially if you compare it to Tai Lung + Shifu and Shen + Po. There is really not much emotional weight to him or his actions. I never felt much intensity the way I did with the others. He keeps the movie moving and does some cool stuff but that is kinda it. As a character there is not much to him. 

A throughline theme of all of these movies is Po finding himself. He learns to believe in himself, confronts his past, and in this movie discovers another side of his identity. While I don’t think this angle was truly needed in the sense that the story felt like a part was missing before, I do think it connects to previous themes enough to justify its existence. And the theme of embracing multiple sides of your identity is a good one. People have so many influences and should take pride in all aspects of their identity. 

This movie has a big focus on panda, revealing that the pandas were not actually wiped during Shen’s attempted genocide. I actually do not have much issue with this or don’t think it retroactively hurts the 2nd movie. I don’t think Po being the very last panda specifically was needed for the last movie’s story to work. The point was not that he was the last panda, it was about Shen being defeated by a panda. The story still functions the same way despite the pandas still being around. Regardless of whether the Pandas were actually wiped out, Po was still scarred by what happened. The fact that Po’s mother really did die leaves the weight of her loss and the attempted genocide intact. 

Looking at the pandas' inclusion as a whole, it's ok. I did not get annoyed with them similarly to how the first movie plays out, but it did get a bit repetitive. It did feel like they retreaded on old ground a lot in terms of jokes. You can justify that because they are trying to say they are similar to Po, but when the jokes about being fat and eating a lot have already been used a lot in the series, that is not the best place to return to. I was not offended by the stereotypical panda stuff, but just barely. 

What also justifies the inclusion of the pandas is the theme of stepfathers. This part was great, even if it does not feel especially deep or nuanced like most of this movie. It was great seeing both fathers make mistakes that I imagine many fathers have in their situation. Seeing them and Po embrace each other was great to see. This side of things was simple, but it was nice. 

Kung Fu Panda 3 is a decent movie but far below its predecessors. It has some solid comedy, albeit unbalanced (funny with how much of the series focuses on balance). It has some cool action, but the dramatic weight of the fights and the choreography does not hold up to the past ones. Kai is a functional villain that does not bring any issues narratively or with his character, but he does not have anything truly likable or memorable about him. It does successfully carry the torch thematically while bringing in some solid ideas, but does not draw as strong emotional responses from me the way the first two are capable of even on rewatch. While it’s not a bad movie despite my mostly lukewarm and negative things to say, it’s difficult to not be harsh on it considering the quality of the first two. You can argue it may partially be due to nostalgia for the first two and my tastes changing, but I have rewatched the first two multiple times and believe they still hold up as strong as before. 

This is my first time talking about a series that is not Japanese. While anime is my favorite source of animated shows, I do love animated media as a whole. So while I will mostly continue to write on anime and manga, you may see more posts on non-Japanese animated things from time to time. Such as a review on Kung Fu Panda 4. Thank you for reading! 

[mymedtrips]

Heart Treatment in India at Low Cost

Heart is the main organ of our circulatory system. It is a muscular organ which pumps blood throughout the body. The heart is about the size of a closed fist, and is located in the middle compartment of the chest, between the lungs and partially to the left of the centre. It rests on diaphragm, behind the breastbone. The heart is protected by the ribcage. The average weight of an adult’s heart is 250-350 grams.

The heart is made up of several layers of a tough muscular wall called myocardium, and a thin layer of tissue called pericardium covers the outside of the heart. There is another layer which lines the inside wall of the heart called endocardium. The heart is divided into two chambers, the upper chamber is called atrium or auricle, and the lower chamber is called ventricle, each are furthermore divided into other two chambers, left atrium and right atrium and left ventricle and right ventricle, so, there are total four chambers of the heart. The two atria are the receiving chambers for entering the blood to the heart whereas the ventricles pump out the blood from the heart. There are valves in the door which acts like doors between the heart chambers. They open and close to allow the blood to flow through the body.

The heart’s function is directed by the brain and the nervous system. Though the main function of the heart is to pass blood throughout the body, but it also controls the rhythm and the speed of heart rate and maintains the blood pressure of the body. The heart works with other systems of our body to control other body functions, like the nervous system and the endocrine system.

There are different types of heart conditions and problems which are altogether known as heart disease. Cardiovascular diseases include disease of the heart which is the leading cause of death worldwide. The following can be the heart conditions:

When the heart stops beating, the blood will not reach out to the brain and other organs of the body and the person may die within minutes. This is called cardiac arrest. When a person experiences cardiac arrest, he will be unable to speak and breath, and will have no heartbeat.

A plaque buildup leading to narrowing of the coronary arteries is called coronary artery disease.

Atrial fibrillation is irregular electrical impulses in the atrium. Heartbeat that is too fast or too slow, or beats in an irregular rhythm is arrythmia. Cardiomyopathy is the unusual thickening, enlargement or stiffening of the heart muscle. Pericarditis is an inflammation in the heart’s pericardium lining.

To keep the heart healthy, one should maintain a healthy lifestyle. Best heart doctors in India also suggest drug treatment and surgery are the other options for heart treatment and these can be done in best heart hospital in India. There are several tests to diagnose heart disease: chest X-ray, tests, electrocardiogram, holter monitoring, echocardiogram, exercise tests, cardiac CT scan, cardiac MRI scan. When the heart is damaged severely and the medicine is not effective, a heart transplant may be needed. Heart transplant involves replacing a damaged heart with a healthy donor heart.

Best Heart Hospitals in India

Some of the top heart hospitals in India which provide best treatments and care for a cardiac patient can be: Fortis Escorts Heart Institute, New Delhi; Asian Heart Institute, Mumbai; Apollo Hospitals, Chennai.

Best Heart Surgeons in India

Some of the best cardiologists in India are: Dr. Z. S. Meharwal, Dr. Naresh Trehan, Dr. Ramakant Panda.

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Source: https://mymedtrips.blogspot.com/2023/10/heart-treatment-in-india_13.html

[indiamedicaltourism]

Top Heart Surgeons in India

The human heart plays an important role in the human organ system, it pumps blood and supplies to all the parts of the body for its functionality. The human heart is embedded between the two lungs. It consists of four chambers which are further classified as two upper and two lower chambers which have their functionality. The human heart serves different roles such as balancing blood pressure and much more.

Heart treatment depends on the patient's heart complications. People often suffer from various heart problems such as clogs in the artery, complications in the artery, holes in the wall of a heart chamber, and much more can require heart treatment. Patients suffering from heart problems undergo surgery which involves removing the blockage in the arteries by performing open-heart surgery. Here in Open-heart surgery, the surgeon operates the heart by opening the ribs and performing appropriate surgery. Patients suffering from heart problems are at high risk of encountering heart failure and have less life expectancy. The Heart Treatment cost in India varies on the hospitals, treatment procedure, and patient condition. So here are a few details about the Price of Heart Treatment in India.

Heart Transplant Cost in India

The Human Heart Treatment price in India ranges from Rupees 2, 00, 000 to Rupees 5, 00, 000. The average cost for open-heart surgery in India starts from Rupees 1, 00, 000 and can vary on the patient's condition.  The Cost of Heart Treatment in India varies for different heart diseases such as VSD surgery cost starts from Rupees 3, 00, 000, while ASD surgery cost starts from Rupees 2, 00,000.

Best Heart Treatment Hospitals in India

Fortis Escorts Heart Institute in New Delhi is one of the best heart treatment hospitals in India. The hospital has treated several heart patients in the past.

Asian Hearts Institute in Mumbai is the Best Hospital for Heart treatment in India and has a high success rate in treating heart patients.

Apollo Hospitals in Chennai is a well-known Heart treatment Hospital in India with high-feature treatment facilities.

Best Heart Treatment Doctors in India

Dr. Ashok Seth is one of the best cardiologists in India and has more than 35 years of experience in treating heart patients. Currently, he is working as a cardiologist at Fortis Escorts Heart Institute in New Delhi.

Dr. Ramakant Panda in Mumbai is the Best Doctor for Heart Treatment in India with more than 30 years of work experience. He is available at the Asian Hearts Institute in Mumbai.

Dr. Devi Prasad Shetty in Bangalore is a well-known Cardiac surgeon with more than 30 years of experience. He is now working at Narayana Institute of Cardiac Sciences in Bangalore.

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Source: https://alafiyameditour1.blogspot.com/2023/12/top-heart-surgeons-in-india.html

[psychedelic-ink]

I’m very excited you opened your requests and full disclosure I was going to ask for Dieter but I remembered that you have the Dieter/Bodyguard series coming soon and I don’t want to step on that.

Which is the world’s longest way of my saying that I would love to get my other husband Javi G + “i wanna fuck you right against the glass so everyone can see how good you take it”

My requests are actually always open but it just takes me very long to get to them unless I'm doing an event or a prompt thing like this!! and thank you so much for being so thoughtful bby!! but feel free to send for the trash panda man as well, I love him and I honestly can't wait for that series to come out, December can't come fast enough ❤️❤️❤️ I'm so happy that you asked for Javi G. tbh I feel like no one appreciates him enough!!!

prompt list: #26 “i wanna fuck you right against the glass so everyone can see how good you take it”

see you, hear you

pairing: javi gutierrez x f!reader

genre: smut

word count: 851

summary: After a romantic evening, Javi wants the world to know who you belong to.

warnings: possesive!dieter, piv, creampie, mentions of s.ex toys, exhibitionism but no one sees, mild dirty talk

MLISTS .  LIBRARY. TAGLIST

After an evening full of romantic gestures and absolute adoration coming from Javi, you finally find yourself in his hotel room. From how soft he was with you all day, it surprises you that as soon as the door closes Javi is all over you. His tongue dances along the column of your neck, hands frantically stripping you of what you were wearing. You gasp when his teeth sink into the soft skin, fingers digging into the swell of your breasts. A needy whimper escapes your lips, your legs barely function as he pushes you up against the large windows of the hotel room. It’s quite high up, but worry still lingers in the back of your mind that someone might see you.

“Javi…”

Before you say anything else Javi’s lips crash into yours, he empties your mind with a bruising hiss, he pulls your hips and makes you grind against him, his cock strains the fabric of his pants. You let out a moan when the soft fabric is caught against your clit. He licks the inside of your mouth and parts away, your head spins, every nerve you have shakes with anticipation.

“I love it when you get so desperate for me,” he says darkly. “I want others to see as well,”

You gasp when he suddenly flips you around, your bare breasts now flush against the cool glass. You brace yourself, fingertips slipping, Javi groans and slides his own thick fingers between yours, steading you. Heat pools between your legs, slick drips and wets your thighs. You look outside, the darkness is illuminated by the city’s lights, the sound of cars reaches all the way up. His lips touch your ear and you shudder at the feeling.

“I want to fuck you right against the glass so everyone can see how good you take it, mi amor,” his nostrils flare as he inhales your scent, the force of it tickles your neck. “Do you think you can do that for me? Will you be good and let me fuck you like this?”

“Y-Yes Javi,” you whimper. “I-I’m your good girl, pleasure fuck me like this,”

The sound he makes after that is downright animalistic. He growls into your ear, a sound that can only be described as possessive, he might as well have screamed mine from the top of his lungs. Your breathing uneven, you push your hips back, pressing into him. He hisses and before you know it he’s inside of you. “Already so wet,” he says, his accent thick. “Scream as loud as you want to, I want the world to hear,”

Javi’s pace is fast, hard and knocks the air out of you, each thrust is rougher then the last. It makes your mind draw blank. You feel him throbbing uncontrollably inside you, his cock glistening each time he pulls back. You can’t help but look across to the other building, the thought that someone might be potentially watching you, watching Javi claim you in such an animalistic way makes you clench tightly around him. He groans and starts to fuck you faster, the room echoes with your loud moans and the sound of skin slapping against skin.

“I am going to come inside,” he whispers quickly. “Then I am going to plug you up so you can feel me inside till morning,”

“Fuuuck,” you say between pants. “Javi– Javi– I’m going to come– God!”

You see stars when his finger finds your clit, he draws short, quick circles around the puffy bud. Your thighs shake, heat moves up from your spine, your orgasm nearing, his cock drills into you over and over again. You cry out for him, as loud as you can, and you come hard when you feel his tongue moving across the back of your neck.

Your cunt gushes around him, clear fluid drips down your legs, he doesn’t stop, fuck you through it, then coaxes out another one. Electricity needles into your skin, your head falls back as you attempt to gasp for air, he kisses your neck and moans when he finally spills into you.

His cock throbs, stomach drawing taut as his cum makes you feel warm and safe. Your breathing is still frantic, heart pounding madly in your chest. Javi pulls you away from the glass, affectionately cupping your breasts, he squeezes them. You sigh heavenly as the warmth of his hands seeps into your own skin.

“Are you going to keep your promise?” you ask after minutes pass, words slurred.

He chuckles into your skin, his cock starting to soften inside. You already feel his cum starting to trickle down your thighs.

“Do you actually want me to?” “How else will others know who I belong to?”

Javi moves his jaw from side to side, then licks his lips. “Mi vida, be careful or I might have to fuck you full again,”

“Hmmm, just be sure to plug me up. ‘Want to feel you when I sleep,”

When he fucks you again, it’s on the bed, the plug waiting idly on the side to be used.

[cegantheayugipi]

Reverse Curse Manifestation Chapter 6

So, you're beginning to get settled into life as both a student and a teacher at Jujutsu Tech. What you don't expect, however, is to catch the eye of a certain Zenin.

Lost? Here's the masterlist.

Looking for part 5? Read it Here.

It was another bright summer day, and you arrived at training wearing athletic shorts and a cropped tank top. You were chatting to Nobara about the new strawberry makeup products that were coming out to commemorate summer, when Gojo appeared in front of you with the seal in one hand.

“NO-” You were cut off as Gojo slapped it firmly on your forehead. “Ugh! Not again!” Nobara couldn’t help but laugh at your situation.

“Your partner today will be Megumi.” Gojo spoke. “Hey Megumi!” He called out to the black haired boy.

“Yes sensei?” He asked, looking over from where he was speaking to Maki.

“I want you to spar with Y/N using your shikigami.” Gojo spoke.

“Wait, are you-”

“Yes, I’m serious!” Gojo shouted in response. He turned to Nobara, and spoke bluntly once more. “You’re with Panda.”

“But he’s so mean!” Nobara complained, slouching.

“I can hear you, you know.” Panda responded, unamused. “I can be meaner if you’d like.” Nobara sweatdropped.

“Okay,” Megumi walked over to you, unsure of how to tell you about his abilities. You’d never seen him summon his shikigami before, and he was concerned about overwhelming you. “Are you alright if I summon my divine dogs?” He asked.

“Wait, you have dogs?!” you asked, your eyes wide with excitement. Megumi made the hand sign to summon them, and in a poof there was a black and a white dog in front of you.

“Awww!” You fawned over them, even as they growled and leapt forward. You rolled over them as they lunged at you, your moves almost playful. Megumi came after you next, and you had to keep your attention sharp in order to keep up with the attacks.

Whenever the dogs would jump or bite at you, you’d try not to hit them back and only dodge or deflect their attacks. When Megumi joined the fray, you weren’t afraid to punch or kick back.

“You can hit them back, you know.” Megumi spoke breathlessly as he parried an attack from you.

“But they’re so cute!” You looked over at the snarling white divine dog, a smile crossing your face only briefly before Megumi swept you off of your feet and onto the ground. You hooked your leg around his and brought him with you, except he ended up on top of you with a painful thud.

“Aah,” you spoke, feeling bad for getting distracted by the cute dogs. However, Megumi didn’t move from on top of you. You looked over to see that the divine dogs were just standing there, not attacking. Then, you looked up at Megumi’s face, which was inches from yours. His cheeks were bright red and he was out of breath. You could feel his warm breath on your face, and you stared at him wondering why he wasn’t moving.

You immediately moved to flip him over, and pin him down. He seemed startled by the sudden flip, but he still didn’t speak up.

“Why did you stop fighting?” You questioned, continuing to pin him down.

“I- uh-” He stuttered, unable to let out any words.

Before Megumi could say anything more, Gojo flashed over to you two and roughly picked you off of him by grabbing the back of your sports bra and tank top. He lifted you into the air, and set you onto your feet on the ground beside Megumi.

“Isn’t training meant to be for training, now?” Gojo jeered playfully, “Now get up!” He roughly kicked Megumi in the chest, shocking him back into function as he rolled across the ground.

“Ah, I’m sorry sensei.” Megumi scrambled to his feet and bowed, his cheeks still no less red

What you didn’t know was going on, was that Megumi had accidentally felt your chest when he fell on top of you. If this was any other person, he likely wouldn’t have gotten so flustered. But when he felt how soft and shapely your breasts were, even compressed under a sports bra, his face burned bright red as all cohesive thoughts left his head. He could only stare at you, your glowing beautiful eyes, and hair ever so slightly messy in front of your eyes. He tried his best to shake off these thoughts as he avoided looking at you after being chastised by Gojo.

“Fushiguro. You can spar with Maki, Y/N go with Inumaki.” Gojo instructed, as what just transpired was completely apparent to him.

‘Kids will be kids,’ He thought to himself.

~~~

Over the next few weeks you fell into a routine of school, missions, and spending time with your colleagues after work. At training, you’d dread each time Gojo would shock you by slapping the seal on your forehead. He was pleasantly surprised one day to find you had the courage to evade him, nimbly ducking and dodging as he reached out his hand. You knew he was just playing with you, but you wanted to delay using that seal for as long as possible. It felt like you couldn’t breathe a full breath of air with it on, it felt worse than being in a room of stale air.

Gojo noticed you were adapting to the seal quickly, and your reflexes were improving too when you detected his presence before he could slap the seal on. It caught him off guard, but after that he humored you as he pretended to move a lot more slowly than normal.

One evening as you arrived home, you noticed a letter lying on your living room table that wasn’t there when you left that morning. It was made of sturdy white paper and sealed with red wax, and pressed into it was some sort of kanji. You opened the letter, and your eyes widened. It was an invitation to the Zenin family estate for the next afternoon.

You were confused, since you knew the Zenin family was a powerful clan of sorcerers, and you didn’t know what they’d want with you. You knew that one of the Zenins had recommended you for promotion without ever meeting you, but you didn’t understand how that tied into all of this. . You phoned Nanami, and told him about the invitation.

Nanami’s heart sank at this news. He was terrified that they would do something to hurt you.

“I’ll drive you there, so you won’t be nervous,” He spoke, trying to keep calm and make you believe that things were fine. “They likely want to meet you because of your rare ability.” It was a half truth, because he worried that they had sinister intentions.

“Oh, wow that’s so cool!” You smiled. It all made sense now to you. The clan probably just wanted to meet someone that they have high expectations of.

~~~

The next day, Nanami dropped you off outside of the front gates of the Zenin clan household. Immediately, a servant clad in traditional clothes called you by name and told you to follow them. You found it weird that they already knew who you were, but you were more concerned about who you were meeting with.

“Master Naoya Zenin awaits you.” The servant bowed, opening large wooden doors for you to enter the building. As you stepped into the large ceremonial room, A male figure with two-toned hair sat at the other end. He called out in an authoritative voice as you approached him.

“Why, isn’t it the mysterious Y/N.” His voice made your confidence waver. “I have high expectations of you.”

“Uhm, Hello.” You bowed deeply.

“It’s Sir to you.” He corrected you, and got straight to the point. “You have an ability that hasn’t been seen on this earth for one thousand years.”

You stood in silence, as this was news to you. ‘So there really were others who could do what I can’ You thought to yourself. Before you could think about anything else, he appeared directly in front of you and put one hand on the side of your face.

“Kneel.” He spoke, his hand pushing you down to the ground. “You should know how to respect men.” You were terrified as you kneeled on the ground, looking up silently at the twisted smile that grew on his misogynistic face.

“There,” He said. “You have a pretty face. You’ll be a suitable wife to give me heirs with this wondrous power.”

You were horrified at his words. Trembling, you tried to hide the tears that threatened to show.

“W-Wh-” You stuttered.

“If you refuse my offer of marriage, we will simply lock you up here, and force you to bear as many children as you can.” He continued, showing no empathy whatsoever. You knew you had to think quickly, to try to let him leave that day.

Still silent, you ran through various scenarios in your head. You knew the Zenin clan was a powerful and prestigious clan, and that this man was likely the current heir.

Naoya bent down and caressed your face with his fingers, running his thumb over your lips. “Good,” He smirked. “Women should be quiet and obedient.” You steeled your nerves, prepared to talk yourself out of the situation.

“I would be honored to marry you.” You spoke, looking directly into his eyes. “As such an esteemed and powerful sorcerer, we would make the strongest children ever seen in a thousand years.”

Naoya’s eyes went wide with delight as a grin grew across his face. You knew you had his appeal now.

“But,” You added. “I want to become a special grade sorcerer first.” Naoya’s smile disappeared.

“Sorcery is no place for a woman.” He spoke cruelly, drawing his hand away from your face. You switched to your next point, making sure to speak as politely and submissively as possible.

“Wouldn’t you want only the most powerful woman in the world for yourself?” You responded, bowing your head. You added more to your act, “Wouldn’t you want to dominate someone even stronger than Yuki Tsukumo? Who could give you even stronger heirs?”

You had his interest again. “You, stronger than Yuki Tsukumo? The only female special grade sorcerer?” He quizzed you, looking down on you.

“Yes,” You said. “If I were the strongest woman in the world, then our union would create the strongest generation of sorcerers ever seen.”

His lips curled up in a twisted smile. He reached down to your neck, tracing circular patterns onto your exposed skin. “And how do you expect to reach special grade, when you are not even grade 2 at the moment?”

You felt incredibly threatened as you paused to come up with an appeasing response, his hands so near your vital points that you felt completely helpless. Like a rabbit between the jaws of a wolf.

“Months ago, I was a mere human who could not see spirits. Weeks ago, I was not even a sorcerer. And mere days ago, I was at the lowest grade.” You continued, desperate to appease him. “Today, I am semi-grade 2. At this rate, you will soon have the most powerful heirs in the world.”

“I see,” He appeared pleased as his sadistic voice dripped with pride. “And I’ll make sure you continue at that pace.” He lowered his hand from you, and returned to his seat at the end of the room.

You remained bowed with your head facing the ground. You waited for him to speak up once more.

Naoya was delighted by you, you would be the perfect wife. He wanted to take you straight away, but the prospect of being the strongest union in the history of sorcerers piqued his interest and he allowed you to leave.

“You may leave.”

Relief flooded every inch of your body, but you knew you weren’t out of the woods yet. You stood up, keeping your head lowered as you backed away from him a couple steps. This was the traditional Japanese etiquette when speaking to royalty, so you assumed that adopting it would not hurt here. Once you had backed away several steps, you turned and walked swiftly and quietly away. You wanted to leave as soon as possible, in case he changed his mind before you could escape.

Keeping your expression as stoic as possible, you were attended by the servants who walked you to the front gates. You sat down in Nanami’s car, and he drove off without saying anything. You let out a deep sigh and leaned back in the seat, all of the stress leaving your body as you began to ever so slightly shake.

Nanami couldn’t tell exactly what it was, but something was wrong when he saw you approach the car with that expression. It was only about 90 seconds in the car, when you broke out into loud sobs.

Nanami immediately pulled over, unbuckling his seatbelt and reaching out to comfort you. You took his arms gratefully, and buried your head in his chest. Your tears soaked through his dress shirt, as you let out wordless messy sobs.

Nanami pulled a tissue out of the driver side door compartment for you to dry your eyes and wipe your nose.

“Tell me what happened,” He spoke, taking off his glasses to look you directly in the eyes. “Tell me exactly what happened.”

You stopped shaking, trying to steady your nerves.

“Kento…” You trailed off, your tone grave.

Nanami’s brows furrowed in confusion, but he realized that you had also called him by his first name for the first time.

“What did he do to you?” Nanami asked, his tone darkening as his chest burned with emotions.

“He didn’t do anything,” You explained. “But he threatened me. He’s trying to force me to marry him.”

This news was worse than anything he could have expected. He was afraid that they’d force you to work for the clan, or try to get you carelessly killed in missions, not bear children for them. He felt a sudden protective nature overwhelm him as he pulled your head to his shoulder, letting you rest as he wrapped his arms around you.

“He wanted to trap me at the estate, but I managed to talk him out of it.” Nanami’s breath quickened as he heard this, his arms gripping you tighter. You could feel his heartbeat quicken. The two of you rested there for a while, as you wordlessly enjoyed the comfort of his embrace.

You finally spoke up from your resting place, your words firm.

“I have to become stronger than Naoya Zenin.”

Nanami agreed, but said nothing as he held onto you. He was grateful that you had such resolve. He held onto you, your presence comforting him almost as much as he was comforting you.

~~~

The next morning, you turned up to the staff room early to speak to Gojo about what happened. When you got there, he was leaning back at his desk with his feet on the table, casually sipping a soda. It was odd to see someone drinking such a sugary drink at 7am in the morning, but you knew Gojo had a sweet tooth. His spiked up hair glowed in the sunlight that streamed through the windows.

“Oh, you’re here early!” Gojo placed the can of soda down as he looked towards you.

“Yeah, I thought I could use your advice.” You replied, sitting down at the desk next to him.

“How can I help?” He asked, taking his feet off of his desk and sitting upright.

“I met with Naoya Zenin yesterday.” Gojo’s eyes widened with shock as you spoke. “And it wasn’t pretty.”

“Did he try to kill you?” He asked, pulling his blindfold down to reveal his eyes.

“No, but he was very rude. He’s trying to force me to marry him.”

“Hah!” Gojo scoffed. “Force you? In a couple of months, you’ll be strong enough to wallop him.”

His words comforted you as you smiled, and you felt your mood lift as you realized that Gojo had just complimented your skills. “Yeah, I’ve been wondering why he thinks he can force me. It was scary speaking to him, but he let me go home thankfully.”

“The Zenin clan are always meddling with Jujutsu society.” Gojo sighed, grateful that you at least weren’t harmed in any way.

“Hey,” You pondered out loud. “Do you think that’s why Maki is still at grade 4, although she’s much stronger than everyone else?”

“Yeah, her family has been meddling with her promotion ever since she left the household.” Gojo explained.

“And it’s also why I’ve been promoted so quickly.” You added.

Gojo nodded, warning you. “You need to be extraordinarily careful, especially when the time comes for your solo promotion mission.”

“I know,” You said. “A sorcerer’s career is dangerous enough as it is, let alone when you’re forced to punch above your weight.”

Gojo nodded, then changed the subject. “By the way, I’m sending Megumi to Sendai City for a mission, so he won’t be in class tomorrow.”

“Oh, you’re not going with him?” You asked.

“He’s been on many missions, he can handle himself.” Gojo leaned back in his chair, putting his arms behind his head. You also knew that if anything happened, Gojo would be able to travel there at superhuman speed to help.

“I’ll set aside homework for him, then.”

~~~

“Wow, it’s finally starting to get warmer!” You smiled as you approached Nanami. The cherry blossoms were beginning to fall to make way for green leaves, and you were thankful for the soft warm breeze. It was late afternoon and you two had just finished work for the day, and agreed to train in the nice weather.

“Yes, it’s a beautiful day.” Nanami gazed down as you approached wearing your training gear, your hair blowing gently across your face. You reached up a hand to move your hair out of the way, and looked up to meet his gaze through his round shaded glasses.

Nanami wore his suit to training once again, somehow always keeping it impeccably clean every time you two sparred. You would wind up muddied and sometimes even with ripped clothing, yet Nanami had not a stain on his enviously pristine cream-colored jacket.

“Okay, let’s get started.” The two of you walked further out in the field, away from the woods on Jujutsu Tech campus. You two stopped once you were satisfied with where you stood, and Nanami nodded to signal you could begin.

You jumped forwards, keeping your torso sideways as you lunged into the attack. Nanami expertly caught it, angling your momentum away so you would lose your balance. You were used to this kind of counter by now, and quickly righted yourself in time for Nanami to attack back. You knew he wasn’t using his full force, as you were able to dodge by rolling away from his kick. Nanami was smart, using kicks and quick jabs to prevent you from making contact long enough to take cursed energy from him, but he was soft on you too, making sure to never go too far and injure you.

Nanami was much gentler with you than Gojo was. You’d often end up bruised and beaten after sessions with the blindfolded sorcerer, and he easily laughed at your pain. You knew Gojo was narcissistic and ruthless, and that’s what made sparring with Nanami so much better. Nanami was always careful with you and made sure that you never pushed yourself too hard. He was much more verbal when teaching too, preferring to give you advice instead of punch it into you like Gojo would.

Sometimes you had to admit that Nanami distracted you during training. Sometimes your eyes would wander to his flexing muscles, and make you miss an opening to attack. Nanami was incredibly good at focusing on the task at hand, unlike you. However, he had to admit that it was tempting to get lost in your beauty.

When Nanami finally concluded the training session, you fell onto your back in the soft grass. Your chest rose and fell rapidly as you caught your breath, your hair splayed around you. Nanami remained standing, his breathing barely quickened compared to before the session and not a strand of hair out of place. He peered over at you, who was quite the mess. Your hair was a mess around you and your clothes were stained by the grass and dirt that you had fallen into over and over.

However, Nanami knew you were improving. At a fast rate. He might have even thought that it was a bit too fast. Only 6 months ago, you were no stronger than the average human being. Now, it seemed like you would soon be as strong as a grade 1, and as strong as himself not long after that. It worried him, because it meant they would throw more and more dangerous things your way.

Nanami stepped closer to you, and extended a hand down to help you up. You gratefully accepted it and he hoisted you back onto your feet. When you stood up straight, your head only came up to his collarbone. What Nanami did next, however, took you by surprise.

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you in for a hug.

“You’re doing great.” He spoke softly, holding you close to his firm chest despite you being dirty and sweaty. You felt all of the blood rush into your head at his sudden action. You could smell his cologne sweet on his skin, the detergent he washed his clothes in, and the slight smell of the soap he used. You were frozen still, simply enjoying being this close to him.

He pulled away and looked down at you as you tried to regain your composure.

“Uhm, since it’s getting warmer out, do you think we could get ice cream?” You asked, looking up to meet his gaze with your face still bright red.

“I’d like ice cream.” Nanami replied, a soft smile playing at the edges of his lips.

~~~

The next day, Megumi was on his mission alone in Sendai. He was meant to locate one of Sukuna’s fingers, or so you heard. It seemed like an easy mission, so you didn’t blame Gojo for making Megumi go on his own. The weather was nice that day, and you didn’t feel like sitting inside to teach a single-student class about the history of Sorcery.

Teaching only Nobara the next day was nice, but the two of you got distracted quite quickly. Instead of standing at the podium like a teacher normally would, the two of you sat in the students’ chairs that were pulled out to face each other.

“I heard, Nitta-sensei has a crush on Gojo-sensei.” Nobara spoke to you in a hushed voice, her eyes bright with glee.

“Really?” You leaned forward, smiling devilishly. “I wouldn’t blame her. I thought she swung the other way though.” Nobara revelled in the gossip, raising an eyebrow at your insinuation.

“Sensei, do you like Gojo too?” Nobara asked, smirking arrogantly.

“Have you seen how much sugar he eats?” You scoffed. “He may be beautiful, but he acts like such a kid. And there’s no way he’d be faithful to any woman.” Nobara laughed as she realized your comments were exactly correct. What you didn’t tell her, however, was that you had your eye on someone else, because you still didn’t quite know how to address it.

The two of you continued to talk until the end of the lesson, completely forgetting that you were meant to be teaching history.

~~~

The next morning, you were surprised to see that Gojo wasn’t in the staff room.

“Shouko-chan, where’s Gojo?” You asked, spotting her sitting in the staff room with her morning coffee.

“There was a development on Megumi’s mission in Sendai, and he’s in the execution room right now.” Your jaw dropped open.

“What?! We have an execution room?!” You asked in disbelief.

“Believe it or not, a kid resistant to curses has eaten a finger of Ryoumen Sukuna, and has become a cursed vessel.” She explained.

You were in shock. Only last week, you taught the second years about the king of curses, who was called a demon. You vividly remembered discussing with Maki your theory that he was once a powerful human sorcerer, and that’s why he couldn’t be exorcized.

“Is he lucid?” You asked in shock. “Why are they killing him so quickly? Don’t they want to find out more about Sukuna’s history? Can we speak to him?” You questioned too rapidly for Ieiri to respond.

“Just go down to see them,” She smiled, taking a long sip from her coffee.

Ieiri gave you directions to the cursed room, but as you were rushing across the campus courtyard you spotted Gojo and a young pink-haired boy coming towards you.

“Hey!” Gojo shouted out to you. “You’re just in time. We’re heading to see principal Yaga.”

“Wait, what?” You asked, confused. “Is that Sukuna’s vessel?”

“Yeah, and I’m recommending him for enrollment in Jujutsu High.” Gojo explained.

“Oh, thank god!” You exclaimed. “I was worried he’d already be executed. I have so many questions!” The young boy smiled sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck.

When they reached you, you introduced yourself to the young boy. “It’s nice to meet you,” You spoke happily, bowing your head.

“Nice to meet you too!” The boy responded loudly. “I’m Yuji Itadori and I like tall girls with big butts like Megan Thee Stallion!” Your mouth dropped open with surprise.

“Uh, the rapper?” You questioned. Itadori nodded in response. You laughed, perhaps a bit too hard for someone who is meant to be a teacher. Gojo seemed to have heard this before, since he didn’t react to what Itadori had just said.

“Come on, Itadori.” He said, leading him towards the principal’s hall.

At the end of the day, you stopped by the boy’s dorm to bring a math test to Yuji. Megumi came out of his room as you walked by, covered in bandages.

“Megumi! What on earth happened?” You questioned, pointing at his bandaged face.

“Ryomen Sukuna.” Was all he said. You realized it was because he got pummeled by Sukuna when he took possession of Yuji.

“Aw man, that sounds like hell.” You responded, feeling bad for the poor student. You were so glad that you weren’t given this mission, because you probably would have just died. Megumi was much stronger than you and much more quick witted, and you respected him for this.

“Where’s Itadori’s room?” You asked, looking down the hall.

Megumi merely pointed, before disappearing back into his room. You walked in the direction until you found a door with his name on it.

“Hey, Itadori!” You knocked on his door. He opened it, an excited look on his face.

“Hey Y/N! What’s up? Do you live here too?” He smiled happily.

“Actually I don’t, uhm, I’m one of your teachers.” You felt embarrassed that you forgot to introduce yourself as a teacher.

“Wait, WHAT!” Itadori exclaimed much too loudly, then immediately snapped into a deep bow. “I’m so sorry sensei!”

“Ah, it’s okay! I actually have some news for you that you might not like to hear.” You tried to laugh off this awkward situation. Itadori looked up at you, wondering what it could be.

“It’s homework.”

Itadori nearly fell over. You handed him two sheets of paper, one was a math quiz and the other was a fact sheet about Sukuna.

“Ah, thank you Y/- I mean sensei.” Itadori scratched the back of his head as he looked down at your papers. It was a math quiz and a history fact sheet.

“Since it’s Friday, you can give them back to me on Monday at class.” You smiled. “The fact sheet is about Sukuna, please try to learn it so we can discuss it in class!”

“Wow, thank you sensei!” Itadori smiled. You waved goodbye, heading back out of the dormitories. He seemed like a nice kid, and you began to feel a little sad. The king of curses was a terrible being, and the fact that he now is bound to this curse for the rest of his life must weigh on him heavily. Not just for giving Sukuna life, but for the things Sukuna could do if he ever took over Yuji’s body completely.

~~~

[sickficsies-and-whumpsies]

Diff person- bUT I really loved how you write the sick inumaki!! I wonder can I ask abt the second years but as the first year where it is their first time dealing w/ inumaki injured throat? And he also got a bad fever and fatigue as a side effects. Thank you!

Aw, thank you, you're so kind!!

TW: blood & injury, suffocation, fever.

1.1k words, Gen.

ーーー

If Cursed Speech worked on himself, Inumaki would definitely use it now. He'd force himself to stop, to leave it to the others or engage hand-to-hand combat. Instead, command after command, he fights on, restless, determined to get the job done with minimal damage to his surroundingsー a small but populous neighbourhood near the hillsー and to the citizens.

Maki and Panda are not far, busy fighting against a horde of minor cursed spirits that must be stopped nonetheless.

But the one in front of him doesn't relent. Which doesn't make sense. Inumaki's ability has never failed to hit the target, not once, it has never slipped out of control. He curses under his breath, mouth filled with copper as he spits some onto the pavement. 

His vision is tunneling, swirling horribly, whole body shaking as Inumaki's grip onto consciousness is rapidly fading, weak, the tether thin. He doesn't, not yet.

Distant, his friends' voices call out his name, distracting the spirit with their presence. The young sorcerer takes advantage of the split second of confusion and lunges at the threat, grabbing at its head, nails sinking into the muddled skin, the creature's anthropomorphic body lanky but so very strong, much stronger than him, physically at least.

The cursed spirit futilely tries to wiggle out of the teen's vice grip, but there's only so much it can do when Inumaki all but smashes his forehead against the spirit's.

"Explode!!" he yells, crimson pooling in his mouth, choking him.

He lets go of the thing, taking a couple of tentative steps back before he trips and falls, back colliding with the floor, hard.

Chunks of dead meat fall from the sky, and he realises that at least his last attempt was not to no avail. His relief is short-lived when Inumaki comes to the painful, chilling realisation that he can't breathe.

He coughs and sputters, eyes wide and glassy, his lips tinged in blue and red as he desperately makes an effort to roll over, failing at the task.

He feels like he's drowning. He's fairly sure he is, actually. He chokes, sputtering, face up as tiny specks of his own blood get spat at the sky and fall back onto his ashen, cold face. Lilac eyes shift out of focus, the sky fading out, pale orange clouds melting in the endless emptiness above him, one last glance at them before he gets dragged down into the void.

It doesn't last.

Vertigo claws at his guts as his whole body is propped into a sitting position, strong hands hitting his back and making a sliding movement from the bottom of his spine to the base of his neck, repeatedly.

And Inumaki heaves rivers of thick blood trickling out of his respiratory system and onto his own uniform pants. Voices fill his ears, but the boy doesn't quite remember how to function now, how hearing noises and understanding their meaning is connected, how it must be processed.

He vomits the blood, already-pale complexion grey, skin damp and clammy. 

It's only an eternity later, or what feels like it, that whatever has gotten ahold of him lays him down, onto his side. Inumaki pants, breathing through his mouth, his lungs on fire, drained. 

"...ge, Toge!! Hang in there, okay? We called Gojou-sensei, he'll be here soon. Alright, buddy?" 

Inumaki lets his gaze shift, squinting. He coughs, harsh, immediately hissing at the pain. His throat stings.

Warm tears trail down his cold face and onto the blood-stained floor, but he blames the overexertion. Definitely not the near-death experience taking a toll on him.

"Can you sign?" Maki asks, crouching next to Panda, in front of Inumaki, "It's okay if you can't, or don't want to. Focus on breathing." she adds, softer.

"I can." the movements are clipped, shaky, "I'm okay. My throat is injured. It's my ability's fault."

"Oh. Is this... an ordinary occurrence?"

"Yes. It will heal. I'm tired."

"So you're sure you're not bleeding internally?" Panda frets, facial features scrunched up in worry.

"I'm sure. It's my throat. I'm sleepy."

Maki and Panda exchange a few hushered words, and Inumaki decides to let himself drift.

ー

"Oh. You're up."

He glances around, confusion washing over him. Inumaki's in his own room, in his own bed, in his own pajamas, too. Hastily, he sits up, chest tight in panic.

The world tilts and swirls horribly around him, and a pair of strong hands push him down onto the thick pillows.

"Idiot, don't. You're running a high fever, and the painkillers are bound to make you feel dizzy. Lie down." 

Inumaki takes a deep, steadying breath, then another. Maki's blurry form is sitting on the edge of his bed, her hand stretched out to fix the cold patch on his foreheadー he hadn't noticed it upon waking up, which, he realises, is probably a good, reliable indicator of how out of it he is.

"Fever?" he signs, eyebrows arched in confusion.

She nods. "39,7°C last time I checked. You also did a number on your throat, and Ieiri-sensei prescribed you enough painkillers and lenitive syrups to take out a horse."

Maki then gets up, getting closer to him. She adjusts the pillows so that her friend is sitting up a bit more, and hands him a glass of cold water.

Inumaki takes it gladly, but when he gulps down the water he realises that it tastes like copper, he cringes, setting the half-full glass down. A hand absentmindedly shoots up, fingers brushing against his throat, almost scared to make contact with his own skin.

"...I'm sorry." 

"And you should be." Panda's voice comes from the door, and he steps in, holding a transparent bag filled with yoghurts and jelly packets. He lets it fall. "Why didn't you warn us!? Why didn't you tell us aboutー whatever that was!?"

He hesitates, eyes low. "I don't know." 

After a second, he raises his hands again, still shaky. "I never thought I'd have to go that far. I'm sorry."

"It was really fucking scary to watch you puke blood, man." Panda pushes, "I thought you'd died. You almost choked to death on your own blood!!"

"Panda." Maki's stern voice leaves no place for arguments. She returns her gaze to Inumaki, "Panda is right, it was scary to watch. But... I think it was scarier for you. So, we will talk about it once you're ready and well. Right now, all you need to focus on is recovering your strengths."

She pauses, shooting a knowing look at Panda. The Cursed Corpse hums.

"We're... glad you're okay."

"Yes, we are."

Inumaki smiles. He feels like he's floating, body light, head empty, filled with clouds, aware that he will have the chance to see them again.

ーーー

Let me know what you think of this, please!! Also, if you have ao3 and want this fic to be gifted to you, let me know.

September 5, 2021.

[usmansfoundationsofdesign]

Moving into Motion

Analysis:

Motion in Kung Fu Panda Storyboard

Kung Fu Panda is a childhood favorite movie of mine, and also has amazing elements of motion in its storyboard.  If you notice the way that Tai Lung and and Po lean into their punches, this is an example of Kinesthetic Empathy. This is a concept where the character’s motion responds to action in the scene.  When they throw their punches, it’s not just their arm and hand moving, it’s their whole body leaning forward to complete the punch.  Similarly, whenever the two dodge, they move their whole body away.  The viewer can tell that this is a fighting scene, and there’s a particular row of drawings where the viewer can tell there is buildup.  When Tai Lung and Po are launched away from each other, there’s a lot of zoom in and emphasis on small movements.  This is an example of Anticipated Action, which is where there’s a sort of frozen moment and the viewer is waiting for something to happen.  In this case, Po is more or less frozen, essentially waiting for Tai Lung to charge at him.  Finally, the whole sequence of storyboards is dominated by a Line of Action, where a viewer can smoothly connect different storyboards’ actions with an invisible line.  Personally, I think the best example is the first three frames where Po turns to face the camera.

Glossary

180-Degree Rule

In filmmaking, the 180-degree rule is a basic guideline regarding the on-screen spatial relationship between a character and another character or object within a scene. By keeping the camera on one side of an imaginary axis between two characters, the first character is always framed right of the second character. Moving the camera over the axis is called jumping the line or crossing the line; breaking the 180-degree rule by shooting on all sides is known as shooting in the round.

Anticipated Action

A dramatic action frozen in time, the tension mounts, we feel anticipation. We expect the sword to swing or the finger to pull the trigger or the couple to kiss.

Camera Motion

Arrows are standard cues, a simple and recognizable way to show motion or progression in a storyboard

Kinesthetic Empathy

A player’s actual movement when responding to action in a game. Leaning into a curve in a driving game is kinesthetic empathy.

Line of Action

Line of action is an artistic concept, an invisible line that captures the thrust and vitality of the movement. The line of action can be drawn by artists as the first element to capture or exaggerate the pose. Tip: Create the line of action as layer 1 so that you don’t downplay the pose. When you have the full energy of the drawing delete the action line layer. 

Motion Blur

When your eyes or objects are in motion, the image will suffer from motion blur resulting in an inability to resolve details. To cope with this, humans generally alternate between saccades (quick eye movements) and fixation (focusing on a single point).How is this biological situation useful in storyboard drawing? How do storyboard artists use motion blur? How does a smear function in animated motion?

Optical Movement

Optical movement is an optical illusion. Although the image is not moving, it appears to move. To see examples search “Op Art”.

Stillness

Stillness is calm, quiet, inaction, and peace. Stillness is the opposite of motion. It can be used to contrast with motion.

[cosmicpeko]

“Christmas Night” | FuyuPeko Christmas Exchange

Word count: 1,787

OTP: Fuyuhiko Kuzuryuu x Peko Pekoyama | Danganronpa 2

Story type: Fanfiction

Short summary: Following the end of the Hope Restoration Program, everyone in the Future Foundation headquarters was ready to spend another night in recovery and rehabilitation. Fuyuhiko, however, who managed to regain track of the time and date, was able to find out that night was not like any other. And he had just the perfect person in mind to tell first.

Important notes: This is my gift/fic for the FuyuPeko Christmas Exchange event hosted by @may-we-have-peace! The user I’ve been assigned was @flannelspacegay and since I wasn’t given any prompts, I tried my best with the ones I had in store ;_; Please remember English is not my first language so there might be some grammar mistakes or things that don’t make sense? Anyway enjoy this will be super short!

Read on AO3

ㅡ

"Won't you sleep a little?"

Between the greasy white walls of room 102 echoed the wind, howling cold from its half-closed, only window. That's how Peko knew it was winter ㅡ the freezing air sliced her cheeks. Since she woke up, she had been rebellious to any sort of request for some reason ㅡ including those of the guard nurses to leave the window closed, so that the toxic fog of the outside wouldn't enter the building's rooms and corridors. Reluctant to give up in spite of the many reminders, Peko's room was assigned an air filtration machine, which unstoppably produced some kind of metallic noise that would keep Peko awake.

Fuyuhiko, on the other side of the room, kept looking at her, leaning with all his weight on the door he had closed behind him. The change in temperature between room 102 and the rest of the building was enough to make Fuyuhiko shiver, but he decided on trying not to antagonize her by forcing the nurses requests on her newly rebellious self ㅡ rather, he carefully approached the little, uncomfortable mattress where Peko's bony, thin body was resting. He helped her be seated then, so that she would feel at ease looking at him on the same height. Her composure always made her look like a soldier, ready to receive an order any time.

Peko was unquestionably skinny ㅡ her athletic structure had been lost during months of unconscious fasting. Although everyone was constantly fed during the simulation, and that was also why Fuyuhiko hadn't lost much weight ㅡ those who were killed in Jabberwock Island entered a comatose state which made their body function irregularly. Depending on how much their body was into the coma, more physical damage was found, like PTSD*. That was also why Peko didn't speak.

As a result of the trauma experienced during her execution, her lungs, and her whole respiratory system was on the edge of collapse ㅡ as she could concretely feel the blades still pierce her body, she was having a hard time breathing. Oxygen depleted, starting again was an extremely difficult task for the swordswoman.

Fuyuhiko found more strength in helping her than helping himself.

Not one day would pass without him trying to guard and protect her, ignoring the rest of his classmates and sacrificing his own recovery. Being without her had been of excruciating pain ㅡ it took him so long to accept her death, until it was proven fake. Since then, a moment couldn't pass without him needing to make sure she was alive. So he wouldn't give up: he would stand before room 102 day and night, fighting whoever got in his way, waiting for visitation time ㅡ and everyone knew that time was Fuyuhiko's only. At night, surveillance was extended to the whole hall, so it was easier to dodge; and he knew he could be finally be with her without worrying or fighting.

The blonde took a sit next to her, facing her side with his entire body, emulating her composure.

"I found an old calendar in the guardhouse and spent the afternoon doing the math. I couldn't wait to tell you what's up today."

Peko, who was deeply insomniac and a little confused, rubbed her tired eyes with her hands and goggled a little, struggling to see without her glasses but still trying to focus on his face, giving him a sign of her attention.

Fuyuhiko smirked again, delighted.

"I think you could tell by my freezing ass-" the girl's sudden coughing caught him by surprise for a second, but while trying to make sure she was okay, he found out she cracked under a little laugh. It took a while before Peko got on her track again, struggling to breath, but visibly humored. He continued, "...but this is Christmas night. It's officially december 25th."

Only by mentioning Christmas, the blonde had Peko beaming. She raised both her eyebrows, then melted in a sweet, little smile. Christmas had always been an important tradition for the Kuzuryuu family. Both Fuyuhiko's mother and father, although very conservative and loyal to the culture of old Japan, adopted this western recurrence for their family. During Christmas night, they used to hide presents and sweets all over the house for their children to find. That Peko knew, because every year, she would be sent from her Master and his sister to find all the hiding spots, making it hard for the Kuzuryuu's to think about more clever solutions for the following year. Just by remembering, she could feel the house's warmth intensely on her skin ㅡ she could picture the oven in the kitchen, too high for her at the time to reach, in constant function, while Fuyuhiko's nanny was busy cooking all kinds of dishes for the day, both western and Japanese.

The boy could notice Peko's smile even though she tried to hide it by lowing her head slightly, letting her silvery hair slide on her shoulders ㅡ only that sight was enough to make him smile two-to-three times brighter.

"You remember, right?! 'Tis a special night, this one, Peko!"

That was the first time in years she had seen her like that ㅡ he thought nothing was going to ruin that moment for them. Nonetheless, they were conscious of the fact that those moments were not to come back anymore.

Brainwashed by despair, they were guilty of many crimes ㅡ including killing their family and masters, who they loved deeply, burning their house down, massacring the closest members of their clan and guiding the rest into their same madness. They couldn't remember any of it, and probably didn't know about it, but they could feel it. But even with that, they weren't able to feel sad or guilty ㅡ like if that ability was surgically removed from their brains. Evil lurked around them without ever touching them. They, who were once despair embodied, were blessed to be born again, could never be infected again.

"I hid something for you to be found, yesterday." now calmer, Fuyuhiko searched for the swordswoman's attention, who immediately raised her head again at his level. That alone was enough to make Peko blush lightly. Her tired, but still flaming red eyes regained strength immediately, as they started flashing quickly from a corner of the room to the other, analyzing the blonde's body and behind his back, with the same curiosity a child would have if they exchanged places ㅡ trying her best, she also moved her body to better observe her surroundings, resulting in a big laugh from Fuyuhiko's side.

However, he decided to anticipate her and unveil the secret, preventing her to make too much of an effort ㅡ he knew she would complete any task for him, to the point of putting her life at risk.

Getting up on his feet, and lowing his back, he managed to pull out from under the mattress what seemed to Peko like a piece of fabric. It took a while to realize that piece of fabric the other was holding was effectively stuffed and shaped as a little panda ㅡ her favourite animal. The black was heavily marked with some kind of ink that resembled that of a pen. The eyes were badly sewn buttons. Overall, it looked creepy. But she couldn't help but feeling overwhelmed ㅡ she freezed, as she was holding the little gift too close to her eyes, trying to capture every detail without her glasses.

Confused by her reaction, Fuyuhiko pouted. "I managed to shape a metallic spring from my bed as a sewing needle with the little knowledge I have of crafting, and literally sewn my sheets." he lowed his head, embarassed, "That's honestly trash, but like, I thought you could use some company when I'm not around."

Lost in his own words, he didn't realize until he heard it, that Peko was sobbing lightly, challenging her own lungs.

Since her awakening, every little emotion had a huge impact on her. From not being capable of feeling much - as she taught to, from a very young age - she was suddenly weak to any small change of mood. To Fuyuhiko, it was like returning to planet Earth and crushing on its surface. He rushed towards her again, sat on the bed, and cupped her face with his hands while brushing away her tears with his thumbs. "Shit- please don't cry," he panicked instantly, and more so when Peko slightly rubbed her cheeks onto his hands, cuddling slowly ㅡ that would be reassuring, if it wasn't Peko he had before him. Something clearly changed after the whole experience in Jabberwock Island.

He took a while to understand what the swordswoman was trying to say. She was happy ㅡ and that was her way of communicating her newly discovered feelings. "We're the only ones left," Fuyuhiko whispered, "who can carry on our family's legacy." His hands slided on her shoulders and arms, until he finally grabbed her hands again. "I don't wanna do it without you, Peko." Hope was good, he thought. He couldn't help but smile because as he watched her being vulnerable and tired, he could see his future ㅡ a bright future, where a thousand more of Christmas nights would happen, and they would spend them in a proper room, where pretty lights would replace those of the beeping machinery above her head, and the heat of an actual house would surround them instead of the cold wind Peko was so stubborn not to defend herself from ㅡ just to feel alive. A future where they would be togheter.

Peko was in love with that hope ㅡ and she was in love with Fuyuhiko. Love doesn't need words, and it goes far, it goes beyond the devotion and the loyalty of a tool. She opened her lips softly.

"Thank you..."

The boy was left astonished by that attempt of hers, but deep down, he knew that was the right time for her to do it.

He kept smirking, literally on the moon. Moving his body towards her, he gently guided her head against his own chest, then rested a cheek among her silver hair. Peko could feel his heartbeat through his bones ㅡ so fragile, yet so powerful. To her, it was all so natural, just meant to be. So she closed her eyes, soothed by that rhythm, and immediately fell asleep, squeezing the little gift she received that night in her thin arms.

Fuyuhiko found out a while later, but kept hugging her and rocking back and forth, like he was holding just the most delicate thing in the world.

"I can't wait to spend my life with you."

ㅡ

Everyone, meri christmis (~￣³￣)~

[latenightcinephile]

#723: ‘A Touch of Zen’, dir. King Hu, 1971.

Some parts of this film have stuck in my mind since the first time I saw it in a university library screening room ten years ago, and others I retained from a screening at the national film festival about four years ago (before they gutted the ‘classic films’ section of their annual program). Like a lot of films, though, huge sections of it disappeared into the haze of memory, while scenes from this film retroactively merged with other wuxia films. In some respects, this isn’t surprising: A Touch of Zen is three hours long, took over two years to produce, and was originally released in two parts, so it’s hardly shocking that sections of it have evaporated. On the other hand, this is such a gorgeous film that it feels almost offensive to forget a second of it.

But it’s not an easy film to write about, and that’s part of the reason why I’m only sitting down to write about it now. As a wuxia text, it’s fascinating, but as a film it is somehow both too complex and too simple. An analogy might help, here: imagine that the first half of Kung Fu Panda remained the same, but after training Po, Master Shifu took it upon himself to defeat Tai Lung, leaving Po on the sidelines. In some ways, that’s what happens in the second half of A Touch of Zen. And it was this unusual turn of events that got me thinking about why the film behaves this way.

Chinese literature has influenced their most prominent genres, just like any other cinema culture, and as such there are significant differences between the narratives they produce and the films that are frequently made in Western countries. One narrative type fairly common in the far East that is currently almost absent from Western productions is the one that happens to be common in wuxia films - a set of stories that take place with different permutations of a core cast of characters, bringing some to the foreground at different times. Arguably, the closest contemporary American cinema has to this is the superhero genre, which definitely shares a lot of similarities. The Marvel Cinematic Universe has that rotating cast of significant characters, and entries in the franchise focus on particular characters as their protagonists.

However, what happens in A Touch of Zen is slightly different: each text in the MCU is relatively self-contained, and the events and antagonists of one film very rarely appear as significant in another. In A Touch of Zen, the protagonists of the first half are unable to defeat the villain, and it is only through allying with another figure, ‘Journey to the West’-style, that the film can conclude with the villain’s defeat. Curiously, the alliance feels more like a replacement, but that’s almost certainly due in part to the space between the original releases of the two halves of the film. A year in between makes it much more feasible mentally to make this jump between characters. That type of space is what makes a similar type of storytelling, the radio serial, function as well.

Perhaps it’s just the types of games I’ve been playing recently, but I can also trace a lineage between this type of narrative and the tenets of tabletop role-playing games. In both media, characters often fall together in goals rather than having any common history, and the narrative is usually constructed as being a series of smaller skirmishes leading to an eventual confrontation with the cause of the characters’ troubles.

It’s clear from the visual style of A Touch of Zen, as well, that this film served as an inspiration for two other films that also raised questions of Chinese expansionism, Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon and Zhang Yimou’s Hero. In both those films, though, the wire work is developed almost to the extent of absurdity. This martial arts technique, referred to as qinggong, is at the heart of most parodies of wuxia, and later films suggest that at the heights of qinggong the laws of the physical universe no longer apply. In A Touch of Zen, though, King Hu’s focus seems to be on balance, and measuring the use of qinggong with the other tenets of martial arts. Characters here do jump over walls, spring through bamboo forests, and pass serenely through the trees, but these actions are limited to providing a moderate weightlessness to the characters. This is one of the things that makes the film feel corporeal in a way that the others I’ve mentioned don’t: masters of martial arts in Hero and Crouching Tiger have honed all their disciplines, but because qinggong can be ‘honed’ to a degree far more surreal than the others, it will always be the focus of the film’s significant images. In order to give the impression that these warriors are equally adept at everything, qinggong needs to be scaled back to more balanced levels.

As a result of this, when Abbot Hui finally emerges surrounded by his acolytes, and glides without touching the ground, accompanied by a dizzying flash of sunlight on water and wind in the trees, we are aware just how far this particular skill can be honed. Abbot Hui is far more developed in his skills than the other protagonists, but the implication of his behaviour is that these skills, taken to the extreme, are not valuable for combat. It’s a more spiritual version of the big bruiser that doesn’t get into fights because everyone knows exactly how those fights would end.

At that point, the film strikes off into a radiant display of Buddhist enlightenment doctrine, but one that is so ambiguous that no commentators have been able to agree on what precisely it means. This is what makes A Touch of Zen so powerful and so maddening: at the point that its performances and visuals fade, the narrative takes over, and at the point the narrative becomes unclear the visuals pick up this slack. At very few points are the two strongly allied, which I think might be why sections of it fade from my memory all the time - it’s those points where the harmony is strongest that the film is most memorable.

[sciencespies]

The giant panda is a conservation icon, but the success story masks a dark truth

https://sciencespies.com/nature/the-giant-panda-is-a-conservation-icon-but-the-success-story-masks-a-dark-truth/

The giant panda is a conservation icon, but the success story masks a dark truth

At a time when we crave good news, the giant panda is a beacon of environmental optimism. Since becoming an icon for the conservation movement in the 1980s, 67 panda reserves and countless wildlife corridors have been created in the bamboo forested mountain ranges of central China.

The most recent census suggests all that effort has paid off. There are 1,864 pandas living in the wild today, up from 1,000 in the late 1970s.

But in a new study, researchers discovered that what’s good for the panda may not necessarily be good for the rest of the ecosystem. After studying images from camera traps over 10 years, they found that large carnivores – the leopard, snow leopard, wolf and dhole (an Asian wild dog) – have retreated from where giant pandas have thrived.

Their numbers appear to have fallen significantly in these panda reserves, and the researchers note that the wolf and dhole may be functionally extinct within them, while the tiger has already been driven to extinction here. Panda conservation doesn’t appear to be benefiting other species, or the wider ecosystem.

These findings shake the foundations of one of conservation’s most enduring ideas – that investing time and money into protecting particular large, influential species can pay dividends for the other species and habitats they coexist with.

In the aftermath of that revelation, what do we really know about how to protect ecosystems and save wildlife from extinction?

Protected areas (PAs) where the four large carnivore species still exist (black bars), and where they have died out (grey bars) throughout the giant panda’s range in China. (Li et al., Nature Ecology & Evolution, 2020)

How to think about ecosystems

Single species conservation was the dominant idea during the latter half of the 20th century. Conservation groups and governments identified particular species in need of urgent help and used their images to raise public support to help save them from extinction.

The poster children of this approach were the giant panda and the tiger. Both of which have been success stories, for the target species at least.

But while lavishing these charismatic species with attention and resources, this approach tends to overlook less attractive species, such as worms, despite them potentially having more ecological value.

Today, conservationists place much greater emphasis on protecting ecosystems and entire landscapes. The logic being that you can more effectively maintain an area’s ecology if you treat it as a functional system.

A useful analogy is to compare an ecosystem with an organism, such as the human body. Each is made up of many working systems, whose roles are maintained by species in the case of the former, and organs in the latter.

A respiratory system needs healthy lungs, but both depend on the rest of the body’s systems. The lungs need healthy arms and legs to find and collect nourishment. The digestive system needs to be able to process that food to unlock the nutrients for the rest of the body, while the circulatory system needs to transport them to the lungs so they can do their work to keep the organism alive.

Alternatively, replace our organism with an aeroplane. For the aeroplane to fly and land safely, all the components need to work. If an engineer only maintains one component, like the engine, and ignores the wings, wheels and navigation system, the flight is going to end badly.

The lesson from both analogies is that all components and the roles they perform are necessary for keeping the whole functional and healthy. An aeroplane may only tolerate the loss of so many rivets, before losing one that’s vital, or losing enough to cause mechanical breakdown.

Losing the function of one organ can cause multiple systems to fail within the body.

Focusing on a single species in conservation isn’t necessarily wrong, though. A focal species can act as a flagship, an ambassador that raises support (and money) for conservation of an entire area. Pandas are very good at this.

But there are also umbrella species. For example, beavers modify their habitats so extensively that they create numerous niches for other species to occupy. In that sense they’re like an umbrella, that if protected, will provide shelter for other species.

So why did panda-targeted conservation fail to revive populations of large carnivores in central China? Well, a panda’s habitat requirements are small compared to a wolf’s or a leopard’s, and the threats facing them in the wild are very different.

Pandas are also famous for their specialised diet – a carnivore turned herbivore – and so their needs differ greatly from your average large predator. Put simply, a habitat catered to sedate, bamboo-munching pandas isn’t likely to help a nomadic, meat-loving leopard.

Conserving large carnivores

Large carnivores don’t have it easy worldwide. They need large areas of suitable habitat and lots of prey. In most areas they once occupied, humans have destroyed habitat, removed native prey species and killed large carnivores by gun, trap or poison, either because they hunt livestock or because they are seen as a danger.

The tiger is one of the few large carnivores whose populations have increased in recent years. India has seen its tiger population grow by a third since 2014. Considering the challenges of coexisting with these large predators – animals that occasionally kill humans – this success is impressive.

India’s approach to tiger conservation prizes tolerance, education and working closely with the communities that live alongside this species above all else. Part of that education is recognising the tiger as just one part of the ecosystem, all of which needs protection.

What the panda study tells us is that we cannot assume a flagship species will also be an umbrella species. While individual species are important, some are more important than others for maintaining a healthy ecosystem.

Jason Gilchrist, Ecologist, Edinburgh Napier University.

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

#Nature

[funkymbtifiction]

Kung Fu Panda: Shifu [ESTJ]

UNOFFICIAL TYPING by Bear

Functional Order: Te-Si-Ne-Fi

Judging Functional Axis:

Extroverted Thinking (Te) / Introverted Feeling (Fi)

Shifu is a formidable and highly-competent kung fu master, who shapes his students, and himself, by pragmatism and a refusal to bend to their weaknesses - a method that has made the Five the most respected Kung Fu masters of their generation. Shifu believes that the world has basic, self-evident rules and therefore can be controlled; he disbelieves in the idea of “fate” when events prove counter to that, no more than so with his conversation with Oogway, a Ti-dom, when he rebels against Oogway’s dictum that he [Shifu] must “let go of his illusion of control”; but Shifu says there are things we can control! However, therein lies the weakness that created the bitter seed in Shifu in the first place; his failure with his adopted son, Tai Lung. Shifu suffers at the quandary that his desire for Tai Lung to be the best, born out of his pure love of his child, was in fact what that turned Tai Lung into the success-hungry narcissist he becomes. He doesn’t find peace from this realization, burying it deep inside himself, until he allows himself to see Po as an individual worthy of respect outside of his preconceptions.    

Perceiving Functional Axis:

Introverted Sensing (Si) / Extroverted Intuition (Ne)

Knowledge, not reflexes alone, is what makes Shifu a master. His repertoire of moves is built on a long established history of kung fu, drawing from respect of masters before him and especially his mentor, Oogway. His Te/Si makes him especially practical and focused on the present, and cocoons him in the Jade Palace, where he develops a functional and ascetic environment with strict routines. Shifu’s focus, unfortunately, is also what “blinds him” to what Tai Lung was becoming, and makes him paranoid and even triggers a full-on crisis when Po crash-lands into his plans, negatively interpreting what he perceives - an overweight, undisciplined panda - rather than seeing Po’s capacity for development and unflagging enthusiasm to succeed. His Ne is what gives him the range of applications for his knowledge, and most of his conversation with Oogway, who has high-Ne, is of flexing ideas back and forth, to discover greater meaning. It also over-idealizes the Dragon Warrior, and what makes him rebel against Po for most of the movie because he does not match up with what he had already envisaged the Warrior to be, from his students. 

[mymedtrips]

Heart Treatment in India

Heart is the main organ of our circulatory system. It is a muscular organ which pumps blood throughout the body. The heart is about the size of a closed fist, and is located in the middle compartment of the chest, between the lungs and partially to the left of the centre. It rests on diaphragm, behind the breastbone. The heart is protected by the ribcage. The average weight of an adult’s heart is 250-350 grams.

The heart is made up of several layers of a tough muscular wall called myocardium, and a thin layer of tissue called pericardium covers the outside of the heart. There is another layer which lines the inside wall of the heart called endocardium. The heart is divided into two chambers, the upper chamber is called atrium or auricle, and the lower chamber is called ventricle, each are furthermore divided into other two chambers, left atrium and right atrium and left ventricle and right ventricle, so, there are total four chambers of the heart. The two atria are the receiving chambers for entering the blood to the heart whereas the ventricles pump out the blood from the heart. There are valves in the door which acts like doors between the heart chambers. They open and close to allow the blood to flow through the body.

The heart’s function is directed by the brain and the nervous system. Though the main function of the heart is to pass blood throughout the body, but it also controls the rhythm and the speed of heart rate and maintains the blood pressure of the body. The heart works with other systems of our body to control other body functions, like the nervous system and the endocrine system.

There are different types of heart conditions and problems which are altogether known as heart disease. Cardiovascular diseases include disease of the heart which is the leading cause of death worldwide. The following can be the heart conditions:

When the heart stops beating, the blood will not reach out to the brain and other organs of the body and the person may die within minutes. This is called cardiac arrest. When a person experiences cardiac arrest, he will be unable to speak and breath, and will have no heartbeat.

A plaque buildup leading to narrowing of the coronary arteries is called coronary artery disease.

Atrial fibrillation is irregular electrical impulses in the atrium. Heartbeat that is too fast or too slow, or beats in an irregular rhythm is arrythmia. Cardiomyopathy is the unusual thickening, enlargement or stiffening of the heart muscle. Pericarditis is an inflammation in the heart’s pericardium lining.

To keep the heart healthy, one should maintain a healthy lifestyle. Best heart doctors in India also suggest drug treatment and surgery are the other options for heart treatment and these can be done in best heart hospital in India. There are several tests to diagnose heart disease: chest X-ray, tests, electrocardiogram, holter monitoring, echocardiogram, exercise tests, cardiac CT scan, cardiac MRI scan. When the heart is damaged severely and the medicine is not effective, a heart transplant may be needed. Heart transplant involves replacing a damaged heart with a healthy donor heart.

Best Heart Hospitals in India

Some of the top heart hospitals in India which provide best treatments and care for a cardiac patient can be: Fortis Escorts Heart Institute, New Delhi; Asian Heart Institute, Mumbai; Apollo Hospitals, Chennai.

Best Heart Surgeons in India

Some of the best cardiologists in India are: Dr. Z. S. Meharwal, Dr. Naresh Trehan, Dr. Ramakant Panda.

My Med Trip is a leading medical tourism company in India. We are offering complete medical and healthcare services with medical consulting in India for foreign patients. We help patients in finding the best hospitals, top doctors, and good accommodations at affordable costs in India. We offer surgeries, treatment and transplant. Some of them are kidney transplant cost in India, heart transplant, bone marrow transplant cost in India, cancer treatment, liver transplant in India,  prostate cancer, best cardiologist in India, ovarian cancer, hip replacement surgery cost in India, knee replacement, shoulder replacement surgery cost in India, brain tumor,  breast cancer surgery in India, orthopaedic surgery cost in India, breast cancer surgery cost in India, shoulder surgeons,best hospital for prostate treatment in India, orthopaedic surgeons, liver cancer treatment in India, heart valve replacement,  top heart hospital in India, knee surgeons, best Kidney transplant hospital in India and so on.

Source: https://mymedtrips.blogspot.com/2023/10/heart-treatment-in-india_13.html

[imnotcameraready]

chivalry is dead (10)

A/N: asdklgasldf logan is the second main character at this point, i realize. i dont have any Qualms with that but also there’s gonna be whiplash once he starts being not-super-main. also meet the artist, more!!! he’s a very interesting one

WARNINGS: arguing, yelling, knife, threatening, death threats, food/food mention (i should have tagged that in chapter 8 — gonna fix that ASAP it’s written on my arm :’D) — if i missed anything too, please let me know!!! 

Words: 6325

AO3 link!

MASTERPOST!

@starlightvirgil @forrestwyrm @daflangstlairde @marshmallow-the-panda@askthesnake @k9cat @patromlogil 

General: @jemthebookworm​

enjoy !!! <3 <3 <3  <3 

Logan woke up first.

He rubbed his face, not changing his position just yet. He noticed that the room’s ceiling was red, with baby pink clouds floating along. Perhaps this reflected on the weather outside, or the sunrise? Either way, it was pretty.

He sat up, putting his glasses on fluidly. Patton was still fast asleep, light snores drifting  from against the bean bag he was spooning. The Child seemed to be a rambunctious sleeper, as his legs were bent over the bed’s edge, blanket covering his face.

He hadn’t forgotten their revelations from the previous night, not at all, and a small, content sigh escaped his lips when he saw that both of his companions were asleep sound. It was a well deserved rest.

According to his internal clock, it was definitely past sunrise, a fair 7:12 a.m. It occured to Logan that “after sunrise” was the most nondescript timestamp he could have placed on their reunion with Deceit and Virgil, but he didn’t have the energy yet to worry about that. After all, he doesn’t function well without coffee. He also should have been concerned about the Artist downstairs. Surely he has to sleep, too, though? And it was unlikely he’ll attempt violence this early in the morning.

Most important, however, is the fact that Logan needs coffee.

Carefully, he stepped around Patton towards the door, taking his cloak with him. He took care to move slow down the stairs, letting the wooden steps creak slowly instead of in loud snaps.

The ground floor hadn’t changed since the previous night. Paintings and art equipment were still strewn about in an organizational method probably only understood by the Artist himself. The man in question was splayed out on what seems to be a small couch — in front of the easel from last night. Along with that, the stool had disappeared. It wasn’t a healthy practice, but Logan had to admit that it was efficient to simply change one seat for another as bedtime rolled around.

Coffee time.

He walked around the couch, still careful about his footsteps, and entered the kitchen. There was a coffee machine in the corner that Logan immediately put to use. Now, with a warm mug in his hands, he squinted around at the setting.

He should make breakfast for everyone. He had the time, and food would greatly sustain himself, Patton, and probably the Child for their future endeavors. Perhaps the Artist would also enjoy a meal? Yes, the Artist reportedly doesn’t like them, but it would be against Logan’s nature to take that sort of statement at face value without running his own experiments.

First, he had to know what he had to work with. Logan opened the refrigerator — why were there modern appliances in a medieval setting? He would have to ask….someone — and found it sparse but useable. There was a full carton of eggs, and milk.

After water testing each egg, Logan set a pan over one of the stove burners. He would have to ask about consistency in setting because, um, a stove? He wasn’t about to not use it, but he was judging the “historical accuracy” that the Playwright had harped about.

Speaking of the Playwright. Logan leaned on the counter with his butt and took the Playwright’s book out of his jacket pocket. In all of last night’s hassle, he’d forgotten to check the “Author’s Notes” section, and there had to have been even more updates since then. He nearly flipped the cover on instinct but a distinct golden glow caught his eye.

The ribbon decal was still adorned on the front, though it was noticeably less impactful than the golden circle in the center. The sun of Roman’s crest. The Child. Logan ran his thumb over it, watching as it actually exuded a warm yellow glow around his finger. If Logan was still willing to trust the Playwright’s explanation, then that meant they’d won the Child over. That he trusted them.

He squinted at the cover. The ribbon was a divot in the cover, like leather pressing. Probably to mark the book, maybe even to fool the Sides into letting him go without argument.

Even lighter on the cover, though, was the outline of the crest. The leather was a dark red color, but closer to the center was a lighter red, more matching of Roman’s sash, and there was a light indentation marking where the crest’s border would be. Perhaps it was because they had met more figments? Or maybe Virgil and Deceit had met with another part enough to make a mark? Either option was promising.

The former seemed to be the case, because the Table of Contents had extended to include….multiple more Romans. It seemed that Virgil and Deceit had been busy. Below the Playwright and the Author Notes was now “The Child,” “The Thief,” “The Artist,” “The Bard,” “The Dragon,” and “The Damsel.” That was all seven. Transfixed, he began flipping to “The Dragon.”

There were bullet pointed notes, but no sketch like there had been for the Playwright. Perhaps it would update with more once they’d found him.

“- Lives in the castle

- Wants to kill everyone

- Would not hesitate (bitch)

- Captured and tortured Damsel

- I cannot stress this enough — DO NOT ENGAGE”

Logan raised an eyebrow. A villain. A very cliche villain, too, given that he was a dragon. He wasn’t necessarily inclined to trust the Playwright’s warnings, though. Surely there wasn’t really a form of Roman who would want to kill all of them? Perhaps throttle, but not murder.

“You’re not Teacher Dude, are you?”

Logan nearly dropped the book. He snapped it shut and whirled around, ascot flapping into his face. The Artist stood in the kitchen’s entry, sleep still evident in his eyes behind the same glasses Logan wore. He squinted at Logan as though daring him to lie.

Which, of course, he did. Logan straightened his posture and fixed his outfit, carefully sliding the book back into his jacket pocket. “I am. Cur of you to say that,” the Teacher Dude smiled, right? He was a little more of a funny man. Logan smiled.

The Artist winced. “You sure as hell aren’t an actor. Dad Guy wakes up first. Teacher Guy’s has a trash sleep schedule, since he procrastinates on grading papers. You’re Logic.”

Logan….supposed that was valid. He didn’t know enough about the Teacher’s character to refute that claim. He cleared his throat and turned back to the pan, beginning to crack the eggs for the scramble.

Hang on. Was his smile that unnatural?

The Artist took his silence as a yes. He nodded to the coffee machine. “Mind if I take some of that?”

Logan nodded, stepping away from the machine. “Of course.”

The Artist nodded back and began fixing himself a mug. He stood beside Logan, who pushed the half-cooked eggs around the pan in an effort to maintain some air of regularity. He only felt a little awkward, considering the Child’s warnings and the yelling match he had with Playwright the night prior.

It didn’t seem that the Artist cared, though. After he poured himself coffee, he stayed in the kitchen, leaning on the counter and watching Logan cook.

“The Child brought you, right?” The Artist sipped his coffee, watching Logan’s shoulders hike up when he spoke.

“Yes. He did,” Logan said.

“So Padre’s upstairs, too.”

“Yes,” Logan exhaled slowly, “Do you want any breakfast?”

The Artist looked at the eggs. Logan really just made them breakfast, huh?

“I don’t eat. We don’t need to,” he looked back up at Logan’s face, squinting, “Wouldn’t that be illogical?”

Logan raised an eyebrow. Okay. Maybe he was a little scared, but Logan wouldn’t pass up an opportunity to point  out that he was being a petty baby.

“Well,” the Artist rolled his eyes as Logan began to explain. “Roman typically eats meals with us, so everyone maintains an even circadian rhythm. While unnecessary in the literal sense, breaking from that routine has likely damaged your stamina, resulting in phantom hunger cramps. My current hypothesis is that that’s what you’re feeling, or….that you don’t want to eat because I’m here.”

There, he said it. Logan could see the hostility in the Artist’s eyes. There was more, something heavier and deeper, probably a nuance he wasn’t picking up on, but the bitterness was indisputable. Or was it simply sadness? Nevermind that.

The feeling in his chest was tight now, not like the fluttering he’d pondered last night. This was more upsetting. It felt like the thing gripping his lungs had a tighter hold, almost threatening. Why was this such a surprise? He knew that the Artist didn’t like him. He should stop developing preconceived opinions of these different Romans, because it wouldn’t benefit him if he continued entering these situations with fallacious speculations.

The Artist averted his gaze, and then turned around. A quiet concession, it seemed. He opened the freezer and pulled out a bag of hash brown patties. “I’ll make hash browns,” his voice was low, almost a whisper.

Logan didn’t want to let it go, though. He had to know. “The Child mentioned that you dislike us.”

Oof, maybe he was being too bold, because he winced at his own words. The Artist was also taken aback; he probably didn’t think Logan would bring up the room’s incredible tension.

For a few seconds, they just stared at each other, unsure of how to continue. The Artist recovered first, with a sharp shake of his head. “I don’t,” he said, even quieter.

He opened the bag and took out another pan, heating some oil. Logan took a step back, setting the eggs down on the counter.

“So you do like us? Us being myself and my compatriots.”

“I mean. I don’t not like you,” the Artist began flipping the patties, “Doesn’t mean I like you.”

Logan frowned. “Can you elaborate?”

The Artist cast him a wary glance, then looked back at the hashbrowns. “I’m indifferent. I don’t need you, and you don’t need me, so we’re at a comfortable numbness.”

Comfortable numbness. What was that, a call back? Logan leaned on the wall, watching the Artist cook quietly.

It seemed that the Artist quickly forgot his presence, too, as he began to hum. He flipped the finished patties one by one onto the drying plate. A little airheaded, perhaps? But he had been quite astute earlier. Or maybe Logan just was a really bad actor — he didn’t know. He did know, however, that the tightness in his lungs was softening.

Logan cleared his throat, and the Artist didn’t react. “What are your….plans?”

“Paint,” he responded simply.

“....anything else?” Wow, it was hard getting this one to talk. The Child had been so ready to explain everything to himself and Patton the night prior.

The Artist seemed to consider his question for a second, as though contemplating if it were worth his time. It seemed to be. “Kick you all out. You, Pitterpatt, and Child being here is puts a target on my house, Professor Binns. I would prefer to not draw Dragon’s attention.”

That was understandable. Logan let his shoulders relax — he definitely hadn’t been worried about an argument or actual physical confrontation, given how the biting the Artist had been the night prior — and he followed the Artist in arranging a plate.

They worked in silent tandem, though once the Artist was finished, he set his plate aside and opened the cabinet overhead. He pulled out a toaster, then a loaf of bread, and finally, to Logan’s surprise, a jar of Logan’s berry Crofters jelly.

The Artist caught a glimpse at Logan’s expression and met him with a tired shrug. “It’s a good flavor,” he turned back around once the slices of toast popped up. Logan’s face mustn’t have changed, because the Artist squinted at him again, suspiciously, and added, “What are you, the jelly police? Fuck off.”

Logan blinked, then turned back to the eggs. He stepped back again, now feeling out of his depths as the Artist toasted eight slices of bread and set all but two aside. Those he took for himself, spreading each with a thick layer of jelly. When it looked like he was done, Logan stepped forward, but the Artist just turned toward him with a stoic expression.

“I’m going to start painting. Don’t,” the Artist pointed the spreading knife at Logan, voice dropping to a threatening tone, “Interrupt me. After you’re all done eating, I want you all out of my house.”

It seemed that he really cared about his work. Logan fixed his glasses, lowering the jelly covered knife with his finger.

“Of course,” he said, licking his finger clean of jelly.

Oh, fuck yeah, that was the good shit.

The Artist, happy with his response, nodded and swiveled the knife around. Logan took the handle and they rotated, the Artist walking away to his easel and Logan to his jelly. It occurred to Logan, then, that if he had a question he should ask it now. Before it became a safety hazard to ask.

“Wait.”

The Artist, just about to sit, looked up at him with a frown. “What?”

Logan looked around at the piles upon piles of paintings. They had intrigued him since the night before, but he’d wanted permission before inspecting.

“May I look at your art after breakfast? I assure you that I will not damage any of your works.”

The Artist looked around, too, and pinched his brows. His hands came up to run through his hair.

Logan shifted his weight awkwardly. It was a fairly simple question, but the pregnant pause implied some deeper worry.

Well, it was Logan. While he wasn’t a big fan OF Logan, he and Virgil were the least likely to physically damage them.

He loved Patton, but the man would probably drop a few of them without realizing the damage that’d do to the canvas. And Deceit….he wasn’t a big fan of fake compliments.

On the alternative hand, Logan was most likely to critique them.

The Artist was sure he couldn’t take that. Not right now, not with this ridiculous art block and murder game interfering with his creative process. On any other day, he would be able to bear the brunt of….no, no. He probably couldn’t take any criticism. That sort of mental processing went to another facet of himself.

But, when Logan PRAISED him….it felt like the world. It felt like the sunset casting a warm glow upon the summer’s night. Like a bird training to fly who’d fallen from a nest only to take off and soar. Like glimmering flashes across a lake at sunrise.

Oh, it felt like heaven.

Was it all worth that one possible compliment?

“Sure,” the Artist found himself saying, hands resting on the back of his head, “Knock yourself out.”

Logan frowned. “I assure you, I do not plan on making myself unconscious.”

The Artist waved his hand, suddenly more distracted looking as his eyes flew around between his current work-in-progress and the other paintings. “It means go ahead. I’m going to begin painting. Tell Pat-in-the-Hat and Child not to disturb me.”

He screwed his eyes shut, drew in a breath, and….summoned a sketch pad and pencil. Logan watched as he began repeating the same hand movement over and over across the blank page, an art warm-up.

For a second, he was honestly proud that Roman remembered his suggested warm-ups. He’d been worried, once Roman first took up sketching as a means to jot his ideas down, that the creative side’s erratic nature would mean less self-care, so he researched a few ways to prevent hand cramps when drawing. Adequate art warm-ups was one of those ways and was a way to prevent one’s hand growing stiff.

Well. This whole morning was definitely a shift from the snappy, angry Artist from last night. Logan briefly wondered what the change may have been.

No matter. He should probably eat before engaging in any of the art; he would hate to dirty it. He also didn’t want to get in the Artist’s way. The Artist had just put his plate down beside the stool and immediately begun working, and to be honest, that didn’t bode well for the food. But it was too late for Logan to bring that up, especially with such explicit instructions.

For someone who disliked order, the Artist followed his personalized organizational methods to the dot.

Logan stayed in the kitchen, watching him paint from afar, letting his eyes wander over the other pieces. Slowly, he sat on the ground, crossing his legs and leaning against the wall. It was peaceful

Okay, well, that was interrupted by pounding on the steps above. Logan turned just in time to see Patton peek out from around the stair’s bend, hair still fairly disheveled and glasses lopsidedly resting on his nose.

“Well, good morning!” he said with a grin.

The Artist didn’t react, continuing in his warm-up routine, but Logan waved. “Good morning, Patt,” he said.

“It’s nice to see you, Roman!” the Artist rolled his eyes, but stiffened immensely when Patton hugged him from the side.

He didn’t loosen when Patton let go and moved on to Logan, still leant on the counter, hand resting on his chest, emotional outburst behind him. Patton had hugged him.

“Good mornin’, Logarithm!”

Okay. Logan drew in a small breath. That nickname? “Did you just call me logarithm?” Logan asked, raising an eyebrow.

He was a little astounded that Patton knew what a logarithm was. Patton nodded, still chipper as ever. “Yep! If you write logarithms in their regular, no numbers-form, it’s your name!”

Logan squinted.

Holy fuck.

While Logan ran that pun through his mind, Patton went to the kitchen. “Did you both make breakfast?” he asked, ignoring that Logan was still trying to figure out how he hadn’t discovered his own name-pun and that the Artist hadn’t un-frozen yet from his hug.

Despite the lack of response, Patton continued, making himself a plate. “You’re so sweet! I’m glad you were working together this morning, then!”

Logan smiled a tiny bit. They had worked fairly well, hadn’t they? He stole a glance at the Artist, who was still frozen. He was looking at Patton with a weirdly choked expression, though. A cross between anger and something else.

His eyes flicked down to the Artist’s food, mostly eaten. He must have eaten it while Logan wasn’t paying attention.

“Logie, did you eat?” It seemed that Patton hadn’t noticed how stressed the Artist looked.

“Yes, Patt, I did. Thank you for your concern. I am going to do my and the Artist’s dishes now,” Logan picked up the Artist’s plate from the ground, not looking at him as he took them both to the kitchen. “Has the Child woken up yet?”

Patton shook his head, leaning on the wall behind the counter while Logan began to clean the dishes. “Nope! He’s out like a light!”

He looked over at the Artist, who was still as a statue, and turned back to Logan in a more hushed voice. “Is he okay?” he asked.

Logan glanced at the Artist, then looked back at Patton. “I cannot say. He was fine earlier,” did Logan want to mention that he stiffened only after Patton hugged him?

Yes. It was better to not hide these things. “He hasn’t moved since you hugged him,” Logan whispered, “Maybe he is a touch-averse Roman?”

Immediately, Patton was regretful. Gosh, he hoped he hadn’t upset the Artist. Roman was usually the only Side okay with spontaneous hugs, and he’d been too sleepy to remember that the multiple Roman situation meant every Roman might have different boundaries.

Should he apologize? Probably. That was the good thing to do!

Patton spun back around and walked up to the Artist, who was still frozen. “Sorry for the hug, kiddo,” Patton said, rubbing the back of his head, “I, uh, hope I didn’t paint myself in any bad light!”

The Artist blinked, then looked up at him, mouth pressed into a firm line. Patton actually flinched from the confused anger in his gaze. The pun couldn’t have been that bad. Could it?

He opened his mouth, irritation clearly mounting, but then clamped back down and bit his lip. He looked away, not reacting to Patton’s bewilderment, and simply starred at the painting he’d been working on. It hadn’t been ruined, oh, no, he hadn’t even started yet. His mind had just been abruptly yanked away from the Zone.

“It’s okay,” the Artist spoke through gritted teeth, “I already talked to Delbert Doppler over there. Please leave me to my work.”

Patton stepped back when the Artist extended his hands, conjuring a paintbrush and the palette that they’d seen him using the previous night. And then he set to painting.

It’d be a lie to say Patton wasn’t a little hurt, despite the already-negative impression the Artist had left. But he was hoping that’d been a late-night kind of fluke! A little moment where the Artist was just too tired and stressed! And he’d heard Logan and him working together well earlier….

“Patt,” Logan’s voice drew his attention back to the kitchen.

He was holding a plate fully set with eggs, hash browns, and two lightly-jammed slices of toast. Logan met Patton’s surprised expression with a small smile. “Breakfast?”

“Oh!” Patton took the plate and plastered on a smile. “Thank you, Lo!”

Neither seemed sure of what to do — did either remember the events of last night? After a few awkwardly quiet moments of smiling at each other, Logan cleared his throat and stepped back. “I am going to look around at the paintings that Artist has done. I would recommend staying in here,” he gestured to the kitchen, “As Artist is….fairly serious about not damaging his work. And not being disturbed.”

“Oooh, gotcha. That’s probably why he’s been a lil’ snappy, right?” That made sense in Patton’s mind! If the Artist wanted to not be disturbed, and Patton had unintentionally disturbed him, it made sense that he’d be a little peeved but not too mad or sad. Smad, if you would.

Logan nodded. “Perhaps. Either way, it would be better if we don’t disturb him,” he looked around at the art and picked up the first painting.

While Logan parsed through the different works, Patton sat down cross legged in the kitchen, munching happily on the eggs. Logan must have made them, he really did make the best eggs! The perfect level of juicy and cooked.

….It made him miss Virgil. The routine was to do famILY breakfasts, with Virgil, Patton, Logan, and Roman all sitting around the kitchen table. Patton leaned back on the wall and let out a small exhale. A small part of him wondered if they’d ever get to do that again, if Roman was going to be so changed after this. The Playwright hadn’t actually taken their words into consideration. He didn’t know how much they loved him.

How much Patton loved him.

Because, yeah, he could admit it. Patton was in love with EVERYONE. Virgil, Logan, Roman, even Deceit — it felt like swimming in honey, thick and goopy and wrapping around him in a warm embarrassment whenever Roman yanked him into a dance in the kitchen, or Virgil leaned on him during movie night. Whenever Logan read him a favored part of whatever he was reading, or when Deceit would trade puns and one liners with him.

He was floored, surrounded by this bubbly love that felt like a celebratory champagne.

Probably. It was probably love. Sifting through emotions may have been part of his job description, but that didn’t mean he was good at it. And he didn’t know if anyone felt the same, if anyone loved him back. Logan’d said something the other night, but…. And it wasn’t his job to sift through HIS emotions. Just Thomas’, technically.

Wait, was this just a different take on Thomas’ self-love?

Either way, the fluffiness he felt, the warmth at the tips of his fingers and the tingling in his cheeks when he smiled at seeing his lovely boys….It was nice.

It was all nice.

Just as nice as those paintings.

Logan had peeked through two stacks and found a lot. First, none of them were finished. Whether it simply lacked depth, or was literally half-painted, or only had base colors, none of these paintings were remotely completed. Every single one that Logan had seen was a work in progress.

Beyond that, he’d found multiple scenes of himself and the other Sides. There was one in particular he was….quite fond of, in all honesty. He’d looked it over for a few minutes. It was a half-finished painting of himself, sitting on the couch in the Mind Palace. And the only “finished” part was himself, fully colored in a semi-realistic impressionist warming glow.

Was that how Roman saw him? He knew that the impressionist movement emphasized the perception of events and movements, taking care of the lighting in environments to reflect not only upon the realistic light sources, but also on how the artist perceives such moments. It seemed….

Well, he didn’t much believe that the Artist was disliked them. Not after seeing these. But it unnerved him that so many were unfinished and unfocused. What was Roman lacking? Was it just an art block?

Patton stood up and patted Logan’s side. “I’m gonna wake up Child,” he whispered, glancing sideways at the Artist, who was painting now, “Get him some breakfast so we can be on our way.”

Logan nodded, putting a painting of a simple house down. “Very well. As soon as he is ready, we should leave. The Artist expressed a desire for all three of us to leave.”

Patton’s brow furrowed, and looked at the Artist, who wasn’t paying them any mind. The Child had to leave, too? Patton just wanted to say goodbye, he didn’t think that they’d be taking him with him. Wasn’t it dangerous outside?

“Wouldn’t it be safer for him to stay here?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at Logan now.

Logan pursed his lips.

Patton was probably right. It….was logical, that the Child would be safer hidden here, between multiple failsafes. “The Artist didn’t want him to stay here,” Logan murmured, “I am unsure why.”

“Well, how about we ask him!”

“Ask who what?”

Patton and Logan looked up to see the Child standing in the stairway, rubbing his eyes, yawning wide. He smacked his lips and grinned at them as they stood in the kitchen entryway, watching with slightly stricken expressions. If he saw anything wrong with that, though, he didn’t say.

“Awh, is that breakfast?!” the Child bounded down from the stairs and launched himself from the base, sliding his socked feet along the smoothed wooden floor.

He slid straight into Patton, who caught him with a “Woop!” This Roman was much more of a hugger, as the Child wrapped his arms around Patton’s hip and squeezed him tight.

Love

The Child snuggled his face into Patton’s side, until he caught a whiff of the eggs. “Oh my God,” he leaned back, though kept his hands balled in Patton’s shirt, “Did Loga–Did Logic make eggs?”

Okay, Logan honestly had no idea his eggs were this popular. “I–um, yes, I did,” he stepped back into the kitchen, “Are you able to make your own plate?”

“Um,” the Child rubbed his chin in thought — Patton was going to die, right here, in the Imagination, because Roman as a kid was so adorable. Just, the cutest. Curse the natural dad instincts — “I think I can!”

He hopped over to the counter, which he could barely peek over, and grabbed a plate. Carefully, and Logan watched just in case, the Child loaded up a plate of eggs, hash browns, and toast. And the whole rest of jelly jar.

He shot Logan a squinted, suspicious look, and held the jelly jar closer. “This one’s mine,” he hissed, “You jelly fiend.”

Logan didn’t know whether to be offended or pleased that that was his reputation. Like….this was a child. But also, he was a serious man with serious problems to attend to, and being labeled a “jelly fiend” was detrimental to that reputation.

But he was talking to a child, THE Child. He may as well play along. He looked to Patton for help, but only found the moral side with his fists pressed up to his cheek, figurative stars in his eyes while watching the Child spoon the jelly out of the jar and consume it.

Logan put his hands up in defeat. “I will not take your jelly,” he said.

“Promise?” the Child asked, pointing the spoon at Logan accusingly.

Alright. He’d admit it. The Child was a positive influence. “I promise.”

The Child raised an eyebrow, but said nothing else. Evidently placated by Logan’s promise, he licked the spoon.

While Logan dealt with the Child, Patton moved closer to the Artist. He hadn’t let go of the whole you’re-letting-a-child-lose-in-a-murder-situation thing and really, nothing anyone said was going to make him let go of that.

And, yeah, sure, Logan and the Artist both said not to bother him. But it couldn’t be that bad! They’d be out of his hair as soon as he said he’d let the Child stay. Patton didn’t understand the harm in a quick interruption. “Artist?”

No response.

Patton frowned. He didn’t want to touch him — Logan’s comment about him being touch averse still lingered in his mind — so Patton just stepped around and stood behind the painting, waving a hand and hoping to attract his attention.

“Hey, Roman!” he said. “Artist!”

Finally, the Artist acknowledged him, in a quick “Mhm.”

“Look at me?” Patton asked.

“Mhm.”

Okay, so the Artist wasn’t paying attention. This was a really important topic, and Patton, sadly, needed his full attention. Patton grabbed his shoulders, and the Artist stiffened again.

Careful of the painting, Patton pulled the easel back, squatting in front of the Artist so they were about equal height.

Uh oh. The Artist looked stricken, staring at Patton with eyes as wide as the moon and a mouth slightly open, slackjawed and confused. Behind them, the Child babbled to Logan about stars while Logan responded gently about constellations. Neither seemed to know of what was going on.

“Hey, Artist,” Patton smiled a little, trying to ease whatever tension there may be, “I’m sorry for bothering you! I just wanted to ask, um….” he bit his lip, it’s okay, just ask, “Would it be okay if Child stayed here?”

“What?!”

Hearing his name, the Child looked up. He and Logan both starred at Patton and the Artist, finally realizing that Patton had done the one explicit thing that the Artist had been adamant that no one do.

And, well, to be fair. Patton wasn’t usually one to press boundaries. He would be okay with letting the Artist paint for however long he wanted, so long as he took healthy breaks and ate a lunch and dinner eventually. But this was a dire situation. The Child had someone hunting him! Someone who wanted to hurt him.

Letting him hide, stay out of trouble, that was the right thing to do. Roman would understand, surely.

“No,” the Artist said.

Well.

Patton frowned, running his hands along the Artist’s upper arms and gently holding him steady. Maybe he just had to explain?

“Well,” he said, “It’s deadly outside, and we don’t want him getting hurt, right? Don’t you wanna keep him safe?”

The paintbrush and palette disappeared from the Artist’s hands as they slowly curled into fists. His lip was twitching, too, revealing a barely-contained anger.

Patton had done the ONE thing….

The Artist sucked in a breath. “....I don’t give much of a fuck, Dad. I told you all to leave.”

Someone yanked Patton back, causing him to let go of the Artist. He turned around, ready to reprimand Logan, only to find that Logan was nowhere to be seen.

The Child tugged Patton back a little more away from the Artist, teeth pressed together into a wide grimace. He shot Patton a small look, terrified and distressed, and pulled him toward the door.

“We’re on our way out, Arty!” the Child said, running around Patton and giving him a sharp push toward the door, “ I’m sorry, I didn’t tell Pat to say that, we’re gonna head out—”

Logan ran down the stairs, holding Patton and the Child’s cloaks in his arms. He handed the Child’s cloak to him, letting him put it on himself.

He wasn’t entirely sure why they had to leave so soon, but after Patton said the Child’s name, he’d turned to Logan with a petrified expression and whispered that they had to leave immediately. While Logan was certain that there was more to the Artist than a quick temper, he wasn’t confident that the Artist wouldn’t lash out.

It seemed that Patton was pretty confident, though. After all, why WOULD the Artist do anything?

He shook his head when Logan offered him his cloak and turned back to the Artist.

“No, no we’re not leaving,” Patton marched right back to the Artist, still sitting on his stool, hands trembling in his lap. “I thought you cared about protecting everyone. Why can’t he stay?”

The Artist stood up, causing the Child to jump back in fright, though Patton didn’t flinch. He just stood nose-to-nose with the Artist, who glared right into his eyes.

“He’s a distraction,” the Artist spoke slow, quietly, though the trembling of his hands and the twitch in his eye betrayed  It’s bad enough you’re all here. I don’t like distractions while I’m working, and you in particular keep distracting me—”

“Is that why nothing is finished?” Logan asked.

The Artist stepped back, as though he’d been slapped. Logan came up behind Patton, carefully putting a hand on Patton’s shoulder.

Patton gave him a small smile of relief. He wasn’t sure he could argue this well enough without him. While attacking the Artist’s art probably wasn’t the best method, he was glad that the responsibility of reigning him in wasn’t all just on Patton.

Having back up was nice.

That, and they still had to get information. Perhaps Patton’s opinion that the Child should stay here was logical and morally right, but that didn’t mean the Artist would abide by it when angry. They had to be strategic.

Logan cleared his throat, continuing with a gentle after the Artist’s lack of response. “All of your paintings. They all seem to be in some state of incompletion,” he gestured around the room, hoping to redirect the Artist’s focus. He didn’t want to come off as overly critical, though. They were wonderful, truly, but….well. You cannot blame him for having curiosities. “When you are distracted, do you not finish?”

The Artist just kept staring at him. He didn’t move, barely breathed, mouth hanging open a tiny bit. He did seem a little slow on the uptake, with lethargically slow movements and reactions.

His shoulders slowly hiked up as he drew in a breath. Patton perked up, and Logan‘s grip on Patton tightened.

“....Get out.”

His voice was cold as ice. A palette knife was summoned into his hand and his knuckles paled quickly from his tight grip.

Oh, dear. The Child hissed something behind the two adult Sides, but neither paid him any mind. They were acutely focused on the Artist.

“It’s an honest question,” Logan said, “I’m sorry if I offended, but—”

“I don’t have to answer it. Get out.”

Patton big his lip, eyes darting to Logan before he continued. “Roman, please—”

“I just want to create without you all getting in my fucking way all the time!” the Artist exploded. “And none of it’s good enough anyway, if it were good, I’d finish it, but nothing’s fucking good enough for you yet!”

He ground his teeth together, body stiff, hands curled at his sides.

It was bad enough he couldn’t finish a piece at all. The art block was bad enough. The fact that parts of him wanted to kill other parts of him and wanted to kill him him was bad enough.

He just wanted to create and wanted it to be good enough for their astronomically high standards.

Maybe the Thief was right. Wanting only made it hurt more.

“Roman—” Patton started again, only to be immediately cut off again by his shout.

“OUT!”

The Artist’s yell was loud enough to shake the house. Or perhaps that was because he wanted them to perceive it that way.

Either way, it was clear that the atmosphere wanted them to leave, whether they got an elaboration or not. The Child grabbed Patton’s arm and, with more force than Patton knew children to have, yanked him out. “We’re leaving, Dad,” he hissed, tugging Patton along.

Where had that outburst come from? And those tears? The Artist — he looked so upset, face twisting into picturesque disappointment and anger, lip curling and nostrils flared.

Patton couldn’t just leave him, no, he had to talk to the Artist, something. Anything.

The Artist jerked forward, shouting “OUT!” once more as he lifted the palette knife to point at them.

The Child threw open the front door and pushed Patton out. There was a time and a place, and this was neither.

He motioned for Logan to follow. “Don’t make me grab you, Logic,” he snapped, half scared, half frustrated.

Logan, blinking away his confusion, followed.

They left the Artist alone with one hand gripping a palette knife and the other his own shirt, over his heart.