#or he could be a tube operator haha

[personinthepalace]

Swimming - Odd Squad UK // Junior Taskmaster

[cheetahspy]

Ledger!Joker x Diabetic Reader Headcanons

Warnings: Medical stuff, needles/injections (it’s not very descriptive though), slight NSFW mention (labeled at the bottom)

A/N: Heya! I’ve never posted something like this before haha…Kinda new to it and very nervous so don’t judge me too harshly. I actually write quite often but rarely post it, however I really wanna start trying to put my work out there more. Keyword try. 

Anyway, fun fact about me, I have T1 diabetes. I haven't seen anything about that with J so I decided to make my own headcanons and such :) Sooooo here’s that lol…enjoy??

You had been diagnosed with T1 diabetes three years ago. You hated it. The needles, the upkeep, the blood, the appointments. It’s scary, a living nightmare for you.

You were still in your…adjusting phase, and didn’t like talking about your diabetes to anyone. Joker was no exception

So, naturally, J took matters into his own hands and did his own research, learning as much as he could about diabetes (without you knowing, of course). How it works, the high and low blood sugar levels, how to manage it, he even figured out how the insulin pump that you have operates. 

You were shocked the day he offered to change the infusion set for you and knowing how to do so. He ignored you when you asked him how he knew.

You were hesitant but quick to give in and let him inject the cannula into your stomach. He hugged you from behind as he did so; you melted into his touch and your fears were comforted. From that day on you opened up more and more about your medical life to J and allowed his help. 

He enjoys being the one to inject the cannula and dexcom, however he still forces you to do it yourself at times, as to make sure you aren’t getting too used to being dependent on someone else. You’re a strong and brave bunny, he wants to remind you of that. 

He will tease you about your dexcom and infusion sets, saying you must be part machine. 

“I’m uh, still convinced you’re a cyborg.” “J!!”

He also forces you to stay on a healthy diet and keeps track of your sugar intake carefully. He’s definitely not a hypocrite. He rarely lets you eat junk food, even though you’re allowed to and tried explaining that to him

“The doctors told me it’s okay if I eat sugar now and then, as long as I have the insulin for it. It’s the sugary drinks I need to avoid more.” 

J doesn’t buy it, nor does he trust your doctor's input. “Mmm. Nuh uh. Can’T have my little bunny go falling into a coma, hm?” You know he’s just concerned about you (even if he’d never outright admit it), so overtime you stopped arguing with him and avoided junk food to ease his mind. Just don’t let him catch you eating it behind his back.

J absentmindedly fidgets with your insulin tube. Rubbing along it, flicking it around, twirling it around his finger, even constantly feeling the cannula end of it against your stomach as if to reassure himself you that it’s still on and doing its job. Don’t worry, he’s only accidentally ripped it out once or twice, and he certainly makes it up to you when that happens. 

Having a low, but forgot sugar to combat it? Not to worry! Joker keeps a juice box or two in his suit juuuust for you. He’s even stacked packages of juices in your pantry so you’ll have plenty. (Don’t ask whether he bought or stole them, you already know the answer)

The low blood sugar episodes hit you hard, but you’ve found curling up on J’s lap and cuddling against his chest while sipping on juice is very comforting. He’ll stroke your hair and rub your back, holding you closer whenever you shake and cry.

“Shhhh sh sh sh. It’s nothin’ you haven’t beaten before. It’ll pass, angel.” 

You hate looking at your stomach and seeing the previous holes and scars from constant injections. J will run his thumb over them and kiss each of them to comfort you. 

Whenever you have a headache or any symptoms, J will immediately interrogate you about your blood sugar level

“Not every pain I get is caused by my diabetes.”

“Shuuuuush. What’re levels right now? Let me uh, lemme see your pum-p. Give. Right. Now.” 

If you’re low on insulin and the pharmacist is late to sending you new vials, J will meet with them personally to have a little chat. 

He’ll then come home and plop the bag of new vials theatrically down on the counter. “Tadaaaa! More insulin for my sweet little sugar cube.”

“Oh, thank you J! Wow, they gave me a lot this time…” 

NSFW:

During the ✨devils tango✨, J will occasionally rip the cannula out by accident. He’ll immediately put a pin in your lovemaking session to get you a new one. Even if you insist you could go an hour or two without it, he’s not taking any chances. After all, where’s the fun in sex if your partner is dying from a seizure??

“J, I promise it’s okay! We don’t have to sto-”

“Now now gumdrop. I know you’re, heh, eager for me, but my patient needs her medicine first.” 

You’re grateful you don’t have to deal with your disability alone anymore. Who knew the Clown Prince of Crime could be such a good caretaker?

[memo14g]

UMC Shadowing Day 1 (7/3) || Jeffrey Nguyen (UCSD)

We arrive at the entrance of the first 14G mission trip designation in Việt Nam, the University Medical Center (Bệnh Viện Đại Học Y Dược)— The burning weather plows on the commonly cramped and congested hospital. The surplus is surreal to even us, the members of MEMO, well-conditioned and familiar with serving the underserved population through medical and educational needs.

14G shuffles through and squeezes up a hard-working escalator. “It’s like 10x more packed than an airport!!”— the noise of a MEMOber perishing, drowning in all of the commotion crowding the entire floor– Probably Sarthak. He has good humor.

We eventually enter a conference room where Dr. Bui and Co-Executives Directors, Sam and Jenny, present a speech introducing MEMO and 14G. The organizations joined here today consist of CardiacLife Foundation, University Medical Center, VinaCapital Foundation, Heartbeat Vietnam, and of course, your friendly locally and abroad MEMO. We meet Khuê from CardiacLife Foundation. (Khuê becomes our close-knit companion who decides to embark along 14G as a newly cherished, iconic MEMOber. Tune in future blogs for more about Khuê!).

Bouncing through the doorway enter the ever-sweet, precious, and unimaginably cute children we sponsored heart surgeries via the Open Our Hearts Gala in May. My jaw DROPS meeting them in person. Their heart surgeries. We funded that.

One of the baby boys repeats and repeats in awe, “Mom, it’s so crowded! Mom it’s so crowded!,” occasionally sneaking in between also the phrase, “Mom, I need pee.”-- Truly precious and worth cheek-pinching. For a moment, everyone in the room could not stop smiling and laughing at the peak of their hearts.

One of the mothers can ever so slowly, barely make out words and hold her tears as she expresses her deepest gratitudes for her baby son’s treatment. Her family relies on just one scarce source of income from picking rubble from the streets. Each and every single one of us are throats and chests just as tight-knotted, lips wringed, and of eye-water welled from the hearts’ very bottom.

This moment. I know— it will stick with me forever. A once-in-a-lifetime miracle that MEMObers vow as a mission to revive again many times, for many families. After a heartwarming, blissful, and eventful picture, the shadowing begins.

In the cardiovascular surgery department, my group is observing Dr. Dinh. Dr. Tran from MEMO accompanies us. Ready to check out the operating room, alongside me in nifty blue scrubs are Jenny, Megan, Jules, Sarthak, and Michelle. Dr. Dinh casually asks, “Who wants to scrub in? Haha”. What's scrubbing in… I think to myself. I have a feeling. And it’s that he’s asking one of us to partake in the surgery— OH, Sarthakkk you’re raising your hand, ya ya you go my guy.

Sarthak follows instructions to “scrub in”, sterilizing his hands and arms, then donning the surgical scrubs. The surgeons and the room are sterile to avoid introducing unfamiliar bacteria to the open patient. Wash up, hands UP, and glove up. When walking in the operating room, have your hips and head facing the patient’s body. You preferably want to avoid knocking the patient over mid-surgery.

Today is an open heart surgery case. It contrasts the much less-invasive “stent” procedure for certain cases where only a small incision is needed on the chest— But here, with open heart surgery the skin is “cauterized” or laser-ed open vertically down the chest’s center and then the sternum chest bone is sawed open.

Sarthak suctions with a tube the smoke from the cauterizing, One of the surgeons pulls out a saw (omg) tool and starts sawing open the sternum down the middle into two like a Bánh Mì. The sternum chest bone is then CRANKED apart via metal tools. I did not know bone could bend so much without breaking. The left and right chests were miles apart with a deep valley in the center, perhaps with also a small lake of red.

We were getting to the heart, but then suddenly— Lunch time. We exit the operating room door and re-dress while the surgeons continue. Remember to “scrub out”

[ntntpad-art]

Magnus heart surgery inspo?

say no more. Read this.

So sometimes I read stories where Magus had heart surgery/transplant and stuff and I'm not saying what you're writing is bad or whatever. Butttt, as a person who has had heart surgery I can give my two cents here and help inspire a very very small fandom uwu

Btw i'm a woman and I had heart surgery when I was super young! So it's probably not going to be accurate to the biology of an angry old man haha

cw for medical stuff.

depending on how good is your surgeon, is how well your scar is going to heal. (also how well you naturally scar)

like not all scars are super bumpy and red and intense. But there are surgeons/nurses/staff (whomever I guess, they're more than one person in the surgery room with you) who are more careful with their stitch work / cutting.

like my scar is 10+ years old but ever since I was young it wasn't super noticeable bc these people did a surprisingly good job.

You have metal wires holding your bones together.

they have to cut the sternum open to get to your heart and stuff, so to close it up they loop wires into both sides. It looks sort of like a shoe lace in x-rays.

depending on your age is depending on how many wires you're gonna have (I think?)

You can't do a lot of physical work after the surgery. Maybe like 10 months to a year.

I remember I couldn't play at recess lol. I did anyways (bc I would sneak out. (could have fucking died bro.))

the scar can itch.

the scar can be sensitive too. it can burn.

Protecting your scar from the sun people! Magnus would wear a shirt to the beach for the first year or so of his surgery.

pressing down on your scar area doesn't feel that great either. My mom threw an apple at me the other day and I caught it on my chest and I needed a moment.

It's not pain. but it's not fun...

You can remember the pain. No matter how out of it on drugs you were, if you think back on it you can remember the pressure/pain of the wires and stuff.

maybe it's more of a mental thing, or my brain just blocks the feeling of them idk.

you get a tube inserted into you as a drain right after the surgery. For me it was inserted through my belly button, for adults it's around the lower sternum area. (Magnus would have a scar on the lower sternum area.)

the tube goes all the way inside of you and lays directly under your heart/where they operated on. It looks like a transparent hose

They take the hose out while you're awake.

straight up without warning, a nurse will walk up to you, and they will pull it out like a clown with those weird infinity handkerchiefs.

I'm sure I was on some pain medication (going in and out of consciousness) but uh,,,I remember feeling every inch of that hose being pulled out guys. It felt like something moving from chest out my stomach.

I didn't get stitches either. She just smacked an extra sticky band-aid on that bad boy and she left. I wasn't traumatizing btw, it was just a very weird experience.

you have to take care of your stitches! they can get infected! and the scar can look darker/bigger on the infected stitches!

needles. needles in your arm, hand, everywhere. I had one in my back at some point (that one had like teeth or something? It felt like a zipper when they pulled it out of me and when I looked back it was like a blue zipper thing).

Cardiologist appointments every year.

Cardiologist also kind of suck, bc the waiting room is always packed with super old people and they look at you weird bc you wear ripped jeans. Imagine Magnus just being starred down by a grandma bc of his hair.

echocardiograms. They suck.

It's a sonogram of the heart. They are press this flat wand against your chest, which doesn't feel fun bc of he wires and stuff. And they dump half a bottle of cold silicon based lube on you to glide the wand better, and it spreads everywhere, and you're tying to stay still and not kick your legs while he technician pressed the same spot with the wand and she says nothing the entire time. But it also sucks if she does say something.

anyways they finish up and leave you with a whole chest worth of lube and they only give you ONE paper towel square for you to clean up and get dressed.

When she leaves you steal more...but it's never enough.

I don't even have chest hair, imagine the men who do. Poor Magnus.

chest pains.

your heartbeat sounds deferent too. (depending on what you had done, it can be heard even without a stethoscope.)

Holter monitor at some point.

It's a box with wires clipped onto patches that you wear for two days. It's done to monitor your heart beats for a full 24 hours. The patches get itchy and if you scratch at them the box registers the movement as heart beats and when the Cardiologist looks at the tests it just straight up looks like you just had a heart attack.

fashion-wise your scar will show. Tank tops, V necks, Bralettes, the scar will peak through the top.

Clothes has never really bothered my scar, but after surgery I would wear button-ups or super big t-shirts since my movement was limited.

look up femoral artery. They use that on some heart procedures too.

That's about all I can think of. hope this helped someone with their writing/art <3

[samarasketch]

Hournite Week Day 5: First Date ⏳🌙

Beth: "...and then, Mr. Clarkson was like 'It's a tube-a-toothpaste. Get it? Tuba?' And for a whole week, Isaac couldn't even enter the classroom without someone making a tuba joke."

Rick: "I hate to say this, but I pity that guy."

Beth: "I know! I mean, he's not a bad kid, he's just-"

Waitstaff: "Hi, sorry to interrupt! But unfortunately, our kitchen is almost out of bananas and we've only got one banana split left."

Beth: "Oh."

Rick: "You can have it."

Beth: "No, you barely had half a burger. You have it."

Rick: "But you came all the way here just to try it!"

Beth: "Pat did say the banana split was life-changing..."

Rick: "Well... How about we..."

Beth: "... split it?"

Rick: "I mean... it's a banana 𝘴𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘵, after all."

Beth: "Haha... sure... if you don't mind."

Waitstaff: "Great, one banana split coming right up!"

-

(Later)

Cook: "Hey, has table two left yet?"

Waitstaff: "Nope. Still there. It's like they have endless things to talk about."

Cook: "More like neither one of them wanted the conversation to end! I knew Operation Banana Split would be a success." ��

Waitstaff: "Classic move, Sal. Another couple formed at the Blue Valley Diner, courtesy of us." 😏

Cook: "Cheers to that." 🍻

---

Ngl, I drew this piece a few days before the promo came out, and I almost screamed when they turned up in similar outfits in the exact same colours 😭 I dressed them up a little more for their first date though 🙈

Also, Beth's headband was inspired by a really cute translucent one I saw once online! It felt perfect for Beth's sunny wardrobe (I could never rock something like that 🥲) and I've always wanted to play more with her hair! :'D

Also, ice cream flavours are Birthday Cake (it still boggles my mind how this is a thing in the US), Strawberry and Lavender!

Birthday cake represents Beth's vibrant personality and celebrates the birth of something new (hehe), strawberry is sweet and safe, while lavender represents the calm and tranquility that Rick has achieved since sparing Grundy's life (and it also happens to be my favourite flavour)! Hope yall like it! :D

[tiramisiyu]

【未定事件簿】 Tears of Themis: Xia Yan Personal Story 4-1 Translation

Translation Masterlist | Xia Yan Masterlist | Video

Chapter 4: 4-1 / 4-2 / 4-4 / 4-5 / 4-6 / 4-7 / 4-9 / 4-10 / 4-11 / 4-12 / 4-13 / 4-14 / 4-16

Xia Yan’s Home

Our interactions after I moved into Xia Yan’s house had a long-lost familiarity to them, but also… a strange unfamiliarity.

When I walked up to the washroom door, the door suddenly opened from inside – Xia Yan had just finished showering and was just in the middle of wiping off his hair when he pushed the door open.

Just like in the past, he didn’t try very hard to dry it off, such that the white T-shirt that he was wearing was slightly damp, clinging onto his firm body.

Xia Yan: Why are you up so early?

MC: Sphinx said that he was going to contact us about collaborating on the case, right? I was afraid that he’d come over really early…

Xia Yan: Don’t worry, he won’t.

MC: How do you know? Did he contact you alone?

Xia Yan: Oh, he didn’t. I’m just speculating.

Xia Yan: Sphinx has always preferred operating alone in the dark. Even if he needed to work with us right now, he still probably wouldn’t want to reveal his identity.

Xia Yan: Plus, even if he doesn’t mind that, right now isn’t a good time.

Xia Yan: The two of us just appeared in front of Meng Qishan. Even though I’ve already threatened him to not reveal any info on us to Oedipus…

Xia Yan: It’s always best to take every possibility in consideration. If Sphinx seeks us out right now, he just might send himself to Oedipus for nothing.

Xia Yan: If I were him, I’d also opt to work underground. We’re out in the open while he’s hidden, which is more beneficial for the investigation.

MC: Makes sense.

MC: Right, why did you shower so early?

Xia Yan: Uh… I just finished up my morning run, so I took a quick cold shower.

Xia Yan: Right, are you also going to wash your face?

Xia Yan: Wait a bit, I just noticed that there’s no more toothpaste. I’ll get you a new tube.

MC: No need, I brought some.

MC: If you also haven’t washed your face yet, we can just use my toothpaste.

I helped Xia Yan squeeze out the toothpaste. Then, we stood side-by-side in front of the mirror to wash up.

Because we had grown up, and because Xia Yan’s home washroom was comparatively smaller, Xia Yan and I kept bumping into each other.

The steam that hadn’t dispersed yet in the washroom filled the air with the scent of shower gel. This was just a typical scent, but because Xia Yan was beside me, it felt… somewhat different.

Right now, the past commonplace occurrence of us washing our faces and brushing our teeth together… made me feel somewhat nervous.

The mirror in front of us candidly revealed all my emotions with complete clarity. I shifted away my gaze as if in escape, not daring to look at the mirror again.

MC: Xia Yan, are you still using this brand of shampoo?

The items on the shelves, the shampoo, the shower gel… were still the brands we used at home, eight years ago.

Xia Yan: Yeah. I had to buy new daily necessities after getting back, but I’m no good at picking them out…

Xia Yan: So I chose them based on our old habits – easy and saves me from worrying, haha.

In all these years, he still hadn’t forgotten those little habits. I suddenly felt a little happy.

But Xia Yan’s and my mouth-rinsing cups were a pair in the past, while they were now two completely different ones.

MC: What about your mouth-rinsing cup?

Xia Yan: There’s no one who sells that cup model anymore.

The small happiness that had just surged in my heart suddenly turned into a bit of disappointment.

MC: Is that so…

MC: Uh… about that, Xia Yan…

Xia Yan: Huh? What?

MC: A few days ago, I saw a pair of mouth-rinsing cups that look really nice online, and your cup just happens to be kinda worn… how about we change them together?

Xia Yan: Sure.

--

Xia Yan’s Home, Second Floor

After washing my face with Xia Yan, Sphinx called us, describing his action plan.

Just as Xia Yan had said, Sphinx was planning to continue hiding his identity. We would work out in the open while he remained hidden as we investigated together.

Sphinx: That’s what our plan is.

Sphinx: For these few days, I’ll first confirm whether there are other victims that corrupt detectives are harassing, and deal with their issues.

Sphinx: After confirming that those corrupt detectives have to do with Oedipus, you two can use other methods to investigate while hidden.

Xia Yan: Okay. Then we’ll wait for you to contact us.

Sphinx: Alright, that’s all-

MC: Wait, Sphinx.

The moment before Sphinx hung up, I called out to him.

Sphinx: Does Miss Lawyer have any other questions to bring up?

MC: I have some questions regarding our approaches towards cooperation. Sphinx, I acknowledge the reasons why you do not want to reveal your true identity right now.

MC: But we’ve already started investigating with you. You should at least display your sincerity, should you not?

Sphinx: …

Sphinx: Then how do you want me to display my sincerity, Miss Lawyer?

MC: Return Xia Yan’s box.

I heard a faint chuckle on the other side of the call.

MC: (What’s so funny about that?)

Xia Yan: Sphinx.

Perhaps because the pressure in Xia Yan’s voice, Sphinx’s brazen laughter stopped.

But there was a still faint layer of mischief in his voice.

Sphinx: Of course. I will get in touch with same-city speed delivery right after. You’ll be able to get your box today.

Sphinx: But after receiving it, I’d like to trouble both of you to examine it carefully.

Sphinx: Though you can consider me as a rogue, the point of stealing the box was to develop a cooperative relationship with you…

Sphinx: Logically, I wouldn’t play any tricks on these little things, but the two of you should still personally, carefully confirm it all.

Sphinx: For example, what if something happens with the delivery company and they break the box… then won’t I end up getting a really unfair accusation?

MC: Don’t worry, we will carefully look over the delivery.

Sphinx: If you say so, Miss Lawyer, then I can be at peace.

Sphinx: Although, Detective Xia Yan, why aren’t you speaking? You’re the most important involved party here. You, of all people, have got to be there to look over the delivery.

After Sphinx mentioned his name, Xia Yan’s face twisted very visibly.

Xia Yan: I… will.

MC: (Why does Sphinx sound like he’s messing with him…)

MC: (He hasn’t put something weird in the box to prank us, has he?)

--

These doubts continued until that afternoon, when we received the delivery Sphinx had sent.

I looked at the delivery box with severe caution.

MC: Xia Yan, could Sphinx have messed with something in the delivery box?

MC: I felt like there was something suspicious about his tone in the call.

Xia Yan: That guy definitely isn’t acting out of the goodness of his heart.

MC: No surprises there, you also feel the same…

Xia Yan: Mhmm… I messaged him after, asking what his goal was, but he just deliberately rambled on without saying anything important.

Xia Yan: How about I open it myself first, then call you over to see after confirming that there’s nothing wrong with it?

MC: That won’t do. No matter what happens, we’ve got to face it all together.

MC: Plus, didn’t you say before that Sphinx is an alright person? I bet that, at most, he’s just pranking us somewhere.

Xia Yan: … But I want to rescind that evaluation on him now.

Xia Yan sighed, then opened the package.

That box with the Sherlock Holmes pipe printed on it was wrapped in layers of bubble wrap, looking like it hadn’t suffered any bumps on the way here.

MC: He sure did give it enough protection. Just based on that, I’m willing to forgive him even if there is a prank somewhere.

Xia Yan: Well, that’s something he should be doing.

Xia Yan scoffed and opened the wooden box. The inside was filled to the brim with various little items.

His biology competition gold medals, the models he made himself… as well as many familiar objects. And what was piled at the very top of everything was a ring.

A ring with very crude worksmanship. The ring had been wound from copper into a circular shape, and a laminated four-leaf clover was sitting on the top.

This was the first thing that Xia Yan had personally made for me.

MC: Isn’t this the ring you made for me during kindergarten?

When we were still in kindergarten, we “played house” often, that popular child’s game.

One time, we got too into the game and thought that the ring braided from dog’s tail grass didn’t look nice enough, so we secretly took mom’s ring.

And then… we were both reprimanded severely.

Back then, I didn’t know how valuable the ring was or what its special meaning was, so I really didn’t understand why mom was unhappy.

MC: Back then, dad explained that the ring was one that he gave to mom, so only mom could wear it.

MC: But in the end, you hollered—

Back then, Xia Yan had earnestly yelled “Then I’ll just give her a ring”…

MC: …!

Xia Yan: …

We were long past those times when children’s words held no weight.

MC: (Does Xia Yan… still remember what he said back then…)

I lowered my head in a fluster, rubbing the ring in embarrassment.

When we were little, Xia Yan accidentally made the clover ring too big, so we comforted each other, saying that it would be just right if I wore it after we grew up.

And right now… I couldn’t help attempting to fit the ring on my middle finger.

MC: It’s on. The size is perfect…

Xia Yan: Yeah… perfect.

Xia Yan repeated the words in a whisper, then stared quietly at the four-leaf clover ring.

I stroked the ring on my hand. Suddenly…

MC: Xia Yan…

Xia Yan: Huh? What’s the matter?

MC: It seems like I can’t take off the ring…

Xia Yan: Huh?

Xia Yan held up my hand, trying to shift the ring, but the ring didn’t move in the slightest.

His brow wrinkled as he snatched a small plier from the toolbox on the table.

MC: What are you doing!

Alarmed, I stared at Xia Yan.

Xia Yan: I’ve got to hurry and cut off the ring, or else your finger will end up swollen.

MC: I refuse!

Xia Yan: Don’t fuss, this is just a toy ring. Your finger’s more important.

As he spoke, Xia Yan had already grabbed my hand. I rushed to cover the ring with my other hand, resisting desperately.

MC: No way! You gave this ring to me, so it’s mine! I refuse to let you break it!

Xia Yan: Jeez, I’ll make you another one in the future, okay? Be good.

MC: The one in the future is for the future, but you can’t break this ring either!

We traded fast verbal shots without realizing anything. Only after coming back to my senses did I notice… something wasn’t quite right.

MC: !!!

Xia Yan: …

Xia Yan: Sit tight, I’ll find some lubricating oil to see if it’ll work.

--

Xia Yan soon brought the lubricating oil. He applied some to my middle finger first, then tried to rotate the ring gently, trying to push it off.

MC: Ugh…!

Xia Yan immediately stopped.

Xia Yan: It hurts?

Xia Yan: Looks like this really won’t work.

Xia Yan sighed helplessly, then took a small plier from the toolbox.

MC: You’re…

Xia Yan: Don’t worry, I’ll be really careful. I’ll do my best to not break the ring.

Xia Yan: Don’t fidget, I don’t want to hurt you by accident.

To make working on it easier, Xia Yan half-knelt in front of me, holding up the hand with the ring gently.

His actions right now lent a particular ambiguity to the scene all of a sudden.

MC: …!

Xia Yan: What’s the matter? Did I hurt you?

MC: No… keep going.

How exactly… does Xia Yan see me?

Bit by bit, each scene after my reunion flooded my mind.

MC: (Xia Yan’s always carefully held onto this ring for so long…)

MC: (To me… does Xia Yan also…?)

As soon as this thought popped into my head, my heart started to beat wildly.

Although, why didn’t Xia Yan make it clear with me?

⊳ Out of caution ⊳ Because I didn’t give a response

MC: (Speaking of which, there’s often a lot online about long-time friends who are too scared to confess.)

MC: (They were afraid that if the romance failed, they’d lose an important friend.)

MC: (Xia Yan… probably also wanted to be cautious, so he didn’t say anything.)

MC: (If I do a little something, would he… understand?)

  ⊳ Out of caution ⊳ Because I didn’t give a response

MC: (If I think about it carefully, I think I’ve done a lot of low-EQ stuff…)

MC: (It’s all my fault…)

MC: (I should be able to make changes in time right now… what should I do to get Xia Yan to understand my emotions?)

--

I was just in the middle of my messy thoughts when I heard Xia Yan’s light voice.

Xia Yan: Alright, it’s off!

Xia Yan: Great Lawyer, hurry and inspect it to see if it’s perfectly fine.

MC: Absolutely perfect! Great Detective Xia, you’re way too amazing!

MC: (Either way… since I’m living at Xia Yan’s house now, I’ve got lots of time to figure something out.)

Xia Yan: What’s the matter? You seem a little absentminded.

MC: Not at all, just wondering about what we should eat for breakfast.

Xia Yan: I know several decent breakfast restaurants. Let’s go, I’ll take you over to try them!

[goh-is-cute]

guys here it is the final parrt!! (well not the final part ever its nowhere near done but the final part of this fic haha)

I sincerely hope you dont hate me haha :/

CHAPTER 8

<timeskip one week>

Ash looked down at Goh. He almost looked like he was sleeping peacefully, his eyes gently closed. But of course he wasn’t sleeping, he’d suffered minor brain damage during the attack from being blasted against the wall by a pokemon. Or at least, that was what the doctors could work out from what Cinderace had been frantically miming. He’d also contracted hypothermia from being in the rain.

Ash felt to blame. He knew he wasn’t, as people had been telling him the past week, but he was. He’d noticed him, could’ve helped him, but Ash was selfish.

“You’re not selfish… You were helping the townspeople… It’s Team Rocket anyway… Why do you care?”

People tried to comfort the brown eyed teen but he couldn’t help but think it was all on him. So he visited the hospital to know when the Team Rocket operative (his name was Goh according to the label in his clothing) would be better.

“We don’t know… It could be anywhere between months and weeks… You might as well do other things, Ash…”

How was he supposed to take his mind off the fact that it was his fault the blue eyed teen was in this state in the first place? What did they think of him, that he was heartless?

He snapped back to reality when the nurse came into the room to change the IV fluids.

“Still waiting here, Ash?” she smiled cheerfully.

“Yeah…” he answered. He’d tried so hard to avoid being talked to by the doctors and nurses in case they thought he was weird. Too late now, he guessed.

“It’s nice to see dedication.”

“D-dedication?!”

The nurse laughed, “Yeah, dedication. Most people would have given up on patients by now. I’m just surprised you’re still here, that’s all. Especially for an unidentified patient like him.”

“Hmmm…” Ash looked at Goh again. She was right, the poor teen didn’t have any known family to anyone and no one from Team Rocket had come to see him. He was all alone, really.

“So are you friends, or what?” 

“We’re…” nothing. What was he, just supposed to outright say he was here because of Ash’s mistakes and he could never forgive himself while the patient was in hospital?! Yeah, no. “He’s just my friend…”

She raised an eyebrow, “Seems like there’s something going on here,” she gestured in their direction.

“Oh, no, no, no!” Ash exclaimed, blushing.

“Ah, sorry! Didn't mean to upset you!” the nurse cleared up, “I was joking!”

It’s ok…”

“He’ll be lucky to have someone like you when he wakes up, though.”

***********************************

Goh blinked his eyes open. It was so bright, so bright. Who even needed this bright lights anyway? Then he became aware of a sharp stabbing pain in his head.

“Ouch…” he muttered.

A small gasp came from beside where Goh lay, “AH?!”

Goh didn’t recognize the voice. His eyes were still adjusting to the brightness of the room but through lowered lashes he could make out a face. Some random person’s face. Who’s is this face?!

“Goh?” that voice belonged to a female but Goh had no idea who she was talking to. Then she walked over and it became apparent he was the one being addressed.

“Hello?” Goh replied, still extremely confused.

“You’re awake!!” the person sitting beside Goh’s bed exclaimed.

“Umm… Yes… Who are you?”

The brown eyed teen shared a look with the lady that couldn't have been good.

“Did I… Do something wrong?” Goh asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Amnesia…” the woman muttered.

“Am- what now?!” the teen with funny cheek marks asked, apparently also confused. So it wasn’t just Goh, good.

“He’s lost his memory, I guess.” she looked at the clipboard beside Goh’s bed, “But I have to check with the doctors for a proper diagnosis, be right back.” she hurried out of the white room. Hospital room. Goh got a proper look around at the sterile walls and white furniture. There was complicated looking equipment all around him and a strange tube in Goh’s arm. He didn’t know anything about medicine, but it didn’t exactly seem like a good sign.

“Goh? Are you… Alright?” the other teen asked. Goh took time to note his worried expression. Cute.

“I'm fine. Well not really, my head hurts and I’m so confused and I don’t know what this Goh is but other than that then yeah, I’m alright.”

“You’re Goh. According to this, anyway.” he held up a black shirt with a name roughly scribbled in the inside edge, “You did know that, right?”

“Umm… No. I don’t even know who you are.” Goh felt like he’d missed out on something to clue him in on this situation. Surrounded by strangers in a strange environment and he apparently had a verb for a name. He wondered what his parents had been like.

“I’m Ash.” Ash replied.

“Ok, Ash, will you tell me what’s going on?”

He smiled kindly at Goh, which was very cute, and then said, “You’re at the hospital because you got injured. Don’t you remember?”

“No.” Goh replied (arguably rudely, but who could blame him).

EPILOGUE

<later that day. Goh has had a proper diagnosis and they two of them went to get fresh air from the hospital>

Ash and Goh were taking a walk in the meadow, just them alone. And even if the scenery was beautiful, the weather was perfect, and there was a cool breeze, Goh just wasn’t feeling it. He just wanted to know. Know everything that had happened, how hard could that be? But aside from Cinderace, no one knew his whole life story. All he was supposed to go on was that he was called Goh (a pretty silly name, if you ask him) and he was 17 years old and a criminal. Oh, he had a supposed friend called Ash too. He was definitely cute, but didn’t seem the criminal type. So Goh had no idea how he got to this point in life, and it was weighing heavily on his mind as he had left the hospital. They say amnesia can be cured by an event to jog your memory, but Arceus knows how long that will take. Forever, as far as Goh knew.

“Goh? Are you alright?” Ash asked, leaning back against a tree they had stopped at.

“I’m…” Goh didn’t want to lie, he was supposed to trust Ash. But could he really trust what was effectively a stranger?

“You know what, I’m not fine. I don’t know anything about anything to do with my life, and I want to.”

Ash smiled brightly at Goh. (He wasn’t sure he deserved it, criminal status and all). “Hey, I getcha.”

Screw it, Goh decided, he needed to know, “Tell me it all.”

Well, that’s it! I hope you enjoyed the first part and are excited for the next fic!! 

[zephyr-together]

it’s been exactly one month since top surgery! here’s a summary of what all went down! disclaimer: please do not feel that you need to feel pressured to remember things from this post or any other, your doctor should instruct you on the most important things to do or not do, and also this is my experience and everyone’s will be different! 

I saw Dr. Kenneth Wolf! I highly recommend him if you’re in the area or able to get to him, very skilled and very cheap (only was $5400, $5900 if you get nipple grafts which I ended up deciding not to have) there is a 250 lb weight limit though, they weigh you the day of surgery so if you’re unsure if you’ll be able to make it I’d suggest seeing a surgeon who operates more on plus sized folks

he was/is SUPER booked, I had my consultation in October and had to schedule surgery in June. this made me confident I made the right decision though because of how many people go to him, and having to be stuck in the body I didn’t want for a lot longer than I thought made me more eager to have it so I wasn’t as scared as I would have been otherwise. that being said, it might be smart to ask ahead how long the wait time is so that you can save during that time! because I didn’t know about the wait I had already had most of my money that I got together since last June so I could’ve had it about four months sooner, but hey everything worked out in the end :) 

speaking of saving money, for this doctor there’s a $500 down payment that I paid when I went to the consultation visit (if you’re out of the area they can do consultation over email btw!) the rest was collected about a week and a half before surgery. I have a debit card so it had to be split up in three transactions. I’m very thankful they worked with me on that!

I went into a small room where the doctor met me, marked me up and took my picture. then he said the anesthesiologist would meet me, which she did in a few minutes and went over a bit of questions/paperwork and took me to the operating room! 

I lied down on a table with my arms out, it felt like I was an alien getting vivisected, that combined with my needlephobia made that a bit scary but I’ve been waiting so long so it was exciting too. they had me hooked up to an IV but I think they did that while I was under because I felt the needle go in and then out. and then in a minute I was out! 

I wasn’t aware of this because it was during the surgery but they have a machine to massage your legs to keep up circulation and I had a tube down my throat too. when I woke up the first thing I hear is “the surgery was a success!! :D” and it felt like a weird dream because of anesthesia but in what felt like a few minutes I was almost as awake as normal which was surprising because I was out of it for hours after getting wisdom teeth out so I thought this would be way worse in that way

I had three intense sensations when I woke up: nausea, tightness and hunger. they asked right away if I was nauseous and gave me an alcohol patch to put on my nose which immediately took the feeling completely away. I had a very specific craving for Burger King’s impossible whopper, I think that’s because of not being able to eat I wanted something substantial like meat (vegetarian so closest thing to it) and something QUICK because hungy 

the tightness was pretty intense and unexpected, I felt desperate to rip off my surgical vest but they assured me it’s actually fairly loose. I think it’s just the incisions that give you a tight sensation but what you see and feel on your body is the vest so your brain says that’s the culprit I think. as time went on I ended up feeling desperate for the vest actually but I’ll go into that later

when I got the whopper I’m VERY thankful my dad who met us after picking it up also got the milkshake because I couldn’t produce saliva at all and didn’t know that would happen. I think that’s from having the tube in my mouth. I also could barely hold anything with my left hand because of that being the arm I had the IV in, but both the no saliva and limp left hand things went away in a few hours I think

by the time we got home which was I think an hour and a half after I woke up, I had really intense pain in my throat and under my armpits. the painkillers they gave me eventually kicked in about an hour or so after I took them, I’d suggest to bring them to surgery maybe if possible so you can take them asap, I think I wouldn’t have had that at all if I did, at that level of intensity anyway. for my throat I basically went nuts and drank water, had popsicles, ice cream, fruit, cough syrup, etc and it went away in 2-3 days or so

speaking of the pain under my armpits, that was from the tubes in me to drain extra unwanted blood and puss and stuff like that, it sounds super awful but I wasn’t allowed to remove the vest for five days and I’m naturally sweaty so I didn’t even know there were tubes in me or that I was draining until like four days later. I was stuffed with tons of gauze under the vest so eventually when I did notice the drainage we pulled out the dirty ones and pushed in some clean ones (they provide you with the same kind of gauze). the main awful thing about it was just the idea of having tubes in me, it didn’t bother me so much when I thought it was part of the incision haha...

now that I complained about the tube and throat pain I will say the “pain” for me of the actual incision area was almost nothing for me at all, just a bit of a weird tingly or pokey sensation every so often and that’s all really. but again everyone is different ! 

appetite was funny because it felt like I’d feel really hungry and eat hardly anything and feel good! another post suggested to have pineapple to help with bruising and I think it worked because I ate pineapple constantly and had pretty much no bruising at all

also I hope this isn’t too gross but I couldn’t pee and I was constipated. it wasn’t too much trouble because for the. pee I could just push and it’d come and for constipation that’s a problem that happens for me in general. both took about a week to wear off. they’re side effects of anesthesia I believe. other side effects I had from that were my legs and arms would feel pretty sore at times and my legs were wobbly, they said that I’d need to move my legs around a bit every once in a while to prevent clotting and I got a bit nervous about that so I ended up going for two walks a day! probably not needed to do that much but I think it helped speed up leg recovery 

after that more intense pain was gone after just a few hours I felt fine to watch shows and play viddy games! I thought I’d be zonked out for days or something but I was pretty alert after just a few minutes of coming out like I said. I could’ve probably drawn or made plushies too but it just felt so weird to move my arms at that point and was probably for the best I didn’t and just watched stuff and played games and slept a lot. it felt a bit frustrating how boring it was at times after a week or so but I just focused on how much of my life I’ll feel good now because of this so the recovery time isn’t that bad knowing that

five days after the surgery I had my first post op appointment! this was for the doctor to inspect the incisions, give us ointment to put on the scars and more gauze, and to finally be able to throw away all of the gauze that was under the vest! at this point I was allowed to take off the vest to replace the gauze and put ointment on as well as shower, and was given bandaids to put on the tubes for showering. however the sensation of not having the vest on at this point was SO horrible to me, I felt like a doll that was being pulled and unraveled apart, it made me want to throw up too so I took a shower as fast as possible and then just opted to get my hair shampooed at salons every other day for a couple weeks, so in retrospect I could have not gone five days with no shampoo but nothing can go absolutely perfectly after all!

a couple days later I ran out of oxycodone and tried replacing it with motrin which gave me three vivid nightmares in a row of having really bad fights with my parents and friend over dumb things which sounds silly but it messed me up emotionally and I kept sobbing uncontrollably out of nowhere that I felt like such a burden to take care of. I thought I was just emotional from the surgery but as soon as I switched to tylenol that went away completely! I don’t think it’s that motrin is bad because I looked it up and it’s a rare side effect, it’s just either that my body specifically doesn’t like it or it was the way it was combined with the antibiotic I had 

the second post op was to remove the tubes and it was 13 days after the first post op. they said if you live out of the area you can remove the tubes yourself so I’m very thankful we’re in the area haha. the left tube came out so smooth and quick that I didn’t feel it even come out at all! the second hurt for a second but I think because it kept getting bent backwards but it didn’t hurt too much. the tubes were SUPER wiggly and actually pretty flat so I think they’re constantly improving them to make them less and less noticeable. 

I was told I had to use the bandaids on my holes for showering and keep gauze on them too for just two more days and I could also throw the vest away then. I still felt too sensitive to get rid of the vest yet and wore it for another week, I still have it in case I want it for now (been going without it for about three days at this point) it still feels very strange without it since it feels like it’s holding you together but I think no matter how healed you are it will a shock to your body to not have that on anymore...also the “holes” from the tubes are more like slits which just look like slightly more open areas of the incisions so it’s barely noticeable. there’s some swelling where that used to be but that’s going down! 

now at this point where I’m at, I still feel best putting ointment on with gauze and bandage wraps I bought as a transition from the vest to nothing under the shirt which seems to be working pretty well! it might be that I’m autistic that I’m so sensitive to that feeling and had to have my vest on longer and now this instead of nothing. also I took three weeks off of work initially (I work a desk job) and asked for a couple more weeks of working from home before going back to the office to be able to adjust

also I will say if you live alone, I think you can handle surgery and taking care of yourself if you’re determined, as long as nothing you need to use to feed yourself and whatnot is up too high, too low, or too heavy. but if you can I’d highly suggest staying with someone who can help take care of you, it really helps easy the transition. in my summary I will say there was almost no pain at all but a whole lot of WEIRD stuff I wasn’t used to, but in the end it’s not a whole lot to deal with, considering! 

[shinygoku]

Top 10 CSatM Episodes (1/2)

Ahhh, Captain Scarlet and the Mysterons...! Probably only Second to Thunderbirds when it comes to the most popular and beloved Supermarination programme, with only Stingray able to compete for that coveted Silver Medal. But for me, it’s my Favourite!

I could go on and on about it, but for now I’ll go over my personal picks for a Top 10, which may give some insight into what about the way the series ticks makes it so enthralling.

Without further ado, let’s jump in! I’m not ordering them by preference, but rather the Episode order as I watched them on my DVDs (tediously the ep listings never seem to be consistent :T) Spoilers for all eps covered! ✂

Winged Assassin

Starting off my Favourites is the 2nd episode of the whole show, featuring a good condensed version of the events of Ep 1 if ya missed it and probably the best explanation on the workings of Retrometabolism that canon media is ever gonna grant us. The plot is fairly straightforward, but what elevates this is the aforementioned Exposition, which feels more organic than it did last episode, the interactions between Scarlet and Blue, and even the shocking twist at the ending, where the mission that had been going so well falls at the very last hurdle, in spite of Spectrum’s best efforts.

One of the most chilling visuals in the series is a surfaced shard of a downed passenger plane floating up from the sea, before the camera pans out to show the duplicated plane flying through the air, and another dark shot later on, of Scarlet’s limp hand with blood running down after he died in the effort to prevent the massive explosion that occurs regardless.

Winged Assassin sets a lot of standards of things to follow; traits like massive collateral damage just as part of the Mysteron’s grander scheme, the close partnership of Scarlet and Blue, Scarlet’s seldom used Sixth Sense and even the occasional downer ending, where the Mysterons manage to sneak a victory in and actually kill or destroy their stated target.

White as Snow

This episode shines a very interesting light on the dynamics between Col. White and Scarlet. It’s obviously one of a superior giving orders most of the time, but in a twist from the somewhat strict nature of Jeff Tracy over his sons who show respect to their father by not arguing back, with these two there’s actually the occassional spark of friction, that Scarlet will voice when he doesn’t like the commands and will only reluctantly go through the motions in the situation. I’m referring mostly to the first Mysteron attack, where a satellite is on a collision course with Cloudbase, but Scarlet unsubtly opposes the plan as there’s the possibility of innocent people on board who would get killed if Spectrum shot it down first. However, he’s overruled... and it turns out that it was indeed a trap, the people on board had been exploded hours ago and what was shot down was a Replicant copy. And that’s just the first half of the episode! But I find it interesting that again, back in Thunderbirds, the call to not remotely destroy something like that on the offchance it was populated would be the Correct course of action, but in this show pragmatism is needed, the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few.

Anyway, the episode has another Mysteron attack aboard a submarine, with plenty of tension... but yet, there’s something of a comedic bend to the episode, such as a furious White shouting at the currently dead Scarlet, much to the Naval crew’s confusion, and the scene at the end which I’ve taken the picture from. The weakest part of the episode is probably Blue in charge of Cloudbase, as he doesn’t seem to know what he’s doing and I feel they coulda done more with him. Oh well! At least we got the fantastic music insert, which is also titled White as Snow.

Operation Time

Probably ranking in my Top 3, Operation Time is pretty remarkably both one of the most tension filled... yet an extremely funny episode. I guess some of that’s just due to my own odd sense of humour, though some moments are clearly intentional. Both the operation scenes, the Mysteron’s pursuit of the Doctor, and finally Spectrum chasing the Mysteron!Doctor are all played very suspensefully, and I find myself holding my breath. But then the funny scenes, like everything with Magenta and how hilariously pissy and unsubtle the Fake!Doctor gets leave me in stitches! [pun unintended lol]

I dunno, maybe some of the amusement effect is enhanced by the strong contrast between the scenes. Also we get a very grisly death for the Fake!Doctor and this episode establishes weaknesses for the Mysterons that will come up in future instalments. There’s a lot this ep has to offer, even something of an insight into 60′s medicine (though the series is set in 2068). While an extremely minor point, both the scenes with operations have the pssssshh.....fsssssshhhh sound that I associate with ventilators even though they ain’t being used, what’s up with that? But it’s another thing to add to the Atmosphere so s’all good, man.

Odd that I can’t think of much else to put here, I love it so much but maybe it’s so solid in the couple of things it does that’s all there really is to say? I’m feeling frustrated at how I don’t seem to have written enough for it, but trust me when I say it’s excellent and that it’s absolutely a Must Watch if you’re giving the series a look. (Though again, I’m spoiling each ep covered so uhh... read at your own risk if you’re using this to judge it!)

The Heart of New York

An interesting tale that I’ve actually Heard more than I’ve watched, as the audio adaptation is a free sample on the official Gerry Anderson site! [At least at the time of writing lmao, it’s worth a look anyway. This message was not paid for.]

This story is somewhat unique in that the Mysterons’ plan is pretty tame by their standards. They want to blow up... a Bank. Sure, it contributes to the long game they play, causing disruption and destruction, but compared to the casual massive collateral damage they inflict as part of a more focused murder attempt (again, see Winged Assassin and the passenger plane) this is small potatoes. But still, they end up feeling more moral in this episode than the actual ne’er do wells, a trio of would-be Robbers. These guys are pretty assholish, deliberately using the horrible cosmic war that’s already taken lives in the triple digits to hide behind while they take their pickings from a vault. Captain Black locking these morons in with the explosives feels like poetic justice, that they really did get what they wanted and are punished in kind.

Maybe this feeds the Mysteron’s point, that humans are aggressive, corrupt and selfish... though Colonel White challenges this view at the end of the episode, stating the robbers aren’t indicative of humanity as a whole. The whole shebang is a lot like The Twilight Zone, honestly. All we need is Rod Serling to open and close the episode...

Point 783

This episode is a bit harder to go into depth on, to be honest, it’s not one with a particular gimmic that makes it more memorable, but it’s a very solid ep all the same. There’s still a fair few layers that keep me thinking, like how it seems one of the Methane Trunk drivers had seemingly been Mysterionised offscreen to enable the Mysteron’s main pawns to me made. Then the first attempt to kill the Supreme Commander is thwarted by Scarlet’s (somewhat inconsistant) Mysteron Sense and perspex tubes that take their sweet time to descend and don’t even prioritise the actual target lol

Anyway, the meat of the episode is focused on the guest vehicle, the Unitron implacable unmanned Tank that can be controlled remotely by human operator or programmed to destroy something particular, and it will not stop or slow down no matter what’s thrown at it. Something something Proto-Drone Warfare commentary. The Mysterons’ last big attempt to assassinate today’s dude has one of their Mysterionised guys from earlier become the target, unknown to everyone else until he draws his gun inside the SPV (who even points out the 6th sense didn’t activate!). Scarlet gets shot 3 times but manages to eject himself and the Supreme Commander, which leads to the above scene, which offers a nice, human response.

Mr Supreme Commander later chews Blue out as it emerges instead of Scarlet going to a Hospital within 10 minutes, Spectrum insisted on waiting for one of their Helicopters to pick him up, which took 3 hours. Poor Blue has to try reassuring the army guys that Scarlet will be fine, truuuuust hiiiim. It makes me wonder if Spectrum is making things easier or harder overall by keeping his Retrometabolism under their hats, though I can understand they’d have reservations, but just trying to gloss over it with a ‘no no, it’s fine, he’ll get better.’ type answer doesn’t seem all that convincing. But I enjoy that it’s semi challenged here. And this episode summary ended up longer than expected cause all the Thinking I’ve done, haha!

=======

This has gotten a lot longer than expected and will be Two Parts! Find the second half here~

[aurilis]

Known you before, chap 7 What are we ? part 3

Chase is trying to understand what are Carmen’s motives.

Carmen was following Paper Star in a train. That one just stole the Magna Carta, and our Scarlet Lady was biding her time.

“ Hello, Carmen.”

“ Chase.” she said, noticing him sitting before her.

They stared at each other.

“ Aren’t you a bit off your jurisdiction here ?” asked Carmen.

“ I had a promotion. But is it all you have to say to me ?” he retorted.

“ That depends. I don’t think you’re here for tourism.” she said.

“ What about you ? Did you steal the Magna Carta ?”

“ Nope.”

He narrowed his eyes. She sounded sincere … or was it what he wanted to believe ? Chase knew his feelings were mingling and certainly clouding his judgement. He leaned eyes a bit, before noticing a detail. Her necklace. His mouth mid-opened. She kept it ?

“ It never leaves me. One of my most precious belongings.” informed Carmen, touching her triangle.

Chase looked at her, confused. Seeing her target getting up, Carmen decided to end that chat, sadly.

“ Enough with the talking. Take me to the Magna Carta if you’re really innocent.”

Chase got up and tended a hand to her. That was when an image of her younger, smiling and calling him appeared. He widened eyes then took back his hand swiftly. Carmen had a little smile : looked like Ivy was right. But she couldn’t risk him being in danger. The thief stole his handcuffs and tied him to the armchair. Chase felt a contact on his cheek. He froze. Was that … a kiss ? That dumbfounded him way more than being handcuffed to a bench. Why would she do this ? Unless …

“ Do you still care about me too, Carmen ?”

Caring or not, he was still tied. Carmen found Paper Star in the restaurant wagon. She sat before a woman. And man did destiny like to laugh. So that dark-haired girl was working with Chase. Carmen envied her. She studied her a bit while talking : pretty face, seemed quite smart, loving history. An interesting girl. That was a tad worrying. Could Chase be interested by her ? Carmen didn’t forget her mission. She left at the same time as Paper Star. Julia looked for her partner.

That one was in a funny situation. She delivered him from his handcuffs.

“ You have a red mark on your cheek.” she noticed.

“ What ?!”

He cursed mentally. She had to do this, while he was trying to hide their past. Good game girl. Chase swept his cheek, asking if his partner has seen the thief. Apparently yes, and even got to chat with her.

“ Oh really now. Did you at least got her phone number ?” he ironized.

“ Haha. How did you expect me to know it was her ?” retorted Julia.

Chase hastened to check about the thief, so his partner wouldn’t question him about this red mark. However … a little smile appeared on his face when thinking about it.

“ Inspector !” called Julia.

“ What again ?”

“ I was telling you that the Magna Carta is here.” said Julia, brandishing a long tube.

“ !!”

Chase stepped to her and opened the tube. It was here. He straightened, confused. What was that supposed to mean ? The train stopped. Chase rushed out, looking around him. Alas, Carmen was already away. He sighed. Where all this was going, honestly. Julia joined him.

“ Let’s return those papers.” he said.

Papers. Had he any idea of their value ? Meanwhile, Sandiego reunited with her team. Ivy spotted her little smile. She raced to her boss.

“ So ? Did you see your inspector ? What happened ? I hope you didn’t quarrel again ?”

Carmen lifted an eyebrow, amused.

“ Didn’t think something like that would interest you.” she replied, walking.

“ Usually now, but since I’m let’s say living it … and I want you to be happy.” replied Ivy.

“ Thank you Ivy. To answer you, yes I saw Chase and I believe you’re right. “

Carmen told her about how he hesitated to catch her. Ivy smiled broadly. There was hope. To be continued in the next episode.

On his part, Chase was more and more confused. Carmen seemed to have returned the precious artefact. Julia said she was probably stealing so others couldn’t. Just like with the Vermeer case. He knew now he burst in place full of VILE operatives, from where paintings were taken and returned.  The side of him hoping that she wasn’t a bad person was gaining ground. He would progress carefully with this though.

“ What exactly do I want ?” he questioned himself.

He wanted … he wanted her to be innocent. If things could go back the way they were … was it even possible ? Three years had passed. Surely they both changed. Could they got along like before ? Was it wise given their situation ?

“ The more it goes the more the questions appear.”

With the main one : friends or foes ?

[ilitws]

𝑨𝑳𝑳   that   i   ever   was   .

summary. george throws himself in front of a bus. his three boys deal. mc. dr. george mccarthy. devoted / earnest / impulsive / short-sighted. pairings. rafael/m!mc. bryce/m!mc. ethan/m!mc. word count. 784. a/n. canon whomst ??? i guess if you wanted to place this in the timeline it’s during the timeskip b/w oh1 and 2. but anyway guess who got to season 5 of grey’s on their 6th rewatch ! haha ! fun ! 

                                                                        𝖗

it’s the kind of stupid stunt he’d yell at you for. selfless and heroic, but reckless and irresponsible. it makes you think of a train crash, a collapsed tunnel, and a little girl named lucia. you remember that he was in the operating room with you, elbow deep in your guts while harper emery did everything she could to save your life.

yet here he is, hooked up to a frankly terrifying amount of wires and tubes, barely clinging to life. there’s nothing you can do for him except hold onto his hand, press it to your lips and your forehead, and beg him to survive. to fight.

at this hour, you’re all he has left. the other interns have their duties ---- lives they have to save. bryce is allowed to check in on him every couple of hours, but you remember seeing him stumble into the lobby and you know from the way he fidgeted beside you that this may be harder on him because he’s allowed to stop by every now and then.

you aren’t jealous. this was never an exclusive thing. and george has such a large heart that it makes total sense he’d have enough to go around. you’re grateful to have had a piece of it at all.

sora is in the cafeteria grabbing you a cup of coffee. this is not how you wanted them to meet.

                                                                       𝖇

tanaka threw you out of the o.r.

the moment you walked in, recognized the face on the table, you knew he’d do it. you saw, in your periphery, the way his eyes widened and traveled from george to you, his arms lifting to push you back. you still muscled past the other residents and zimmerman because it’s ... fuck, it’s george who’s mangled almost beyond recognition and whose life is in your hands ---- except they’re not, because harper emery has you gently nudged away and pushed all the way back out into the lobby. 

you’re still in a gown, scrub cap on, mask secured over your face. by all accounts, you look every bit like the surgeon you are. but the way rosa gently removes these articles and stuffs them in a hazmat bin, so that you’re just left in your stupid turquoise scrubs, makes you feel like you’re a patient. to be handled with care.

---- no, no, not a patient. because they’re the people you’re supposed to bluntly deliver bad news to. you try to be empathetic and understanding, but they’re the ones who have to confront mortality and complications and what if’s head on, like their doctors do.

being coaxed into a creaky, stained lobby chair with whispered reassurances is for a patient’s family, not doctors who can face the truth. it’s for their loved ones, not someone who’s going to read his chart as soon as he’s out of surgery ---- either his death note or, god willing, just a regular old chart.

it isn’t as strange as it should be to think you fit into this category: loved ones.

but you haven’t yet had the chance to say those three little words to him.

                                                                      𝖊

you hate that a part of you has the gall to think, at a time like this, i told you so. it was a bad idea, and it could’ve gone wrong in so many ways ---- it has, actually. not at the ethics hearing, which should have been a big enough sign reading quit while you’re ahead. it’s here where you’ve been fucked up the most, in the peruvian amazon where flat silvery fish are giving people flatworms.

where lives are at stake, where you’re doing good, important work, and where you can’t stop thinking about george mccarthy.

really, what good would it do if you went back, anyway? he’s been well and truly diagnosed. all that’s left is for people to patch him together. they hadn’t given you the call until he was stable ( but still unconscious, with a proverbial sword hanging above his head ), which, you suppose, you ought to be grateful for.

you decided to work with w.h.o. because you were done, after so many months of feeling useless, with being unable to do anything. if george hadn’t been around ... you hate to think of what would’ve happened to naveen. of what you would’ve allowed to happen to naveen. so you’re here, away from george and away from naveen, loading people up with salt baths and organophosphates and telling them they’re going to be okay. these people are going to be okay. you’re helping them.

and yet, there’s nothing you can do to help george, over 3500 miles away. so, really, you’re still useless.

[loftyexecutor]

somnium vidisse se dicat in extremis orbis terrarum - 3

Chapter; 3 Rating; T+ WC; 1656 TWs; medical things, needles Pairing; AddElsAin [transform] AU; modern/dreamsharing scifi Summary; Being the best in the industry had its perks. Herrscher’s name was known far and wide, work offers coming in left and right, extort this, extort that. But that still didn’t stop his boyfriend from getting too tangled up in one of his dreams and switching places with the shade in his head. The shade that he had offered to extort ages ago. Fuck, this is a mess. Notes; heres the joke okay please laugh

illustrated by @declawedcat​♥

PREVIOUS | AO3

Herrsch stood with his back to the group, scribbling onto the whiteboard that he'd pulled out. Because what good lab didn't have a whiteboard on hand? He’d felt bad about erasing Dox’s latest theory, but… well.

"Morphy, you will be our anchor in layer one," he said. She was the most experienced architect of them all, maybe save Sariel, but he needed Sariel inside the dream itself. "Do you have a stable dreamscape on hand?"

Morphy laughed, like twinkling bells, though her eyes were set and determined. "When do I not? I think you'll like it, I was in the middle of showing it off before I was so crudely taken away from my exposeé."

If he didn't know she was joking, Herrsch would have felt bad.

"Glad to hear it. You will keep Conwell as a failsafe, in case anyone needs to be booted." Hopefully they wouldn't. Hope was all he had. "Immo is already anchored in layer two. He… shouldn't be on layer three. We will recon, Laby, you will be the anchor in layer two if he's not there. Otherwise, you are anchoring layer three."

Laby kicked out with a leg, throwing her arms up into the air. Twilight barely held her stable. "Laby will tell Nisha, we will be the best anchor! Pinky promise!"

And because Herrsch wasn't an asshole, he held out his own pinky to twine with hers. The brilliant smile he got as a reward was almost enough to convince him everything was fine.

"Nova, me and you will act as the extractors. Queen and… Iblis and Anular will stabilize the dream if it starts falling apart. Sariel and Prime will be the inside architects. Make sure not to alter too much."

He got a couple nods back. He wasn't used to being the one in charge of large operations, that had usually been either Immo or Nova, back when they had all been part of the DDTP. It made him grateful that he knew these people, knew their ins and outs, what made them tick. Dreaming with more than four people made things imbalanced, so much more prone to going awry.

But they've worked together before.

"Centurion, Shakti, you're on outside duty. Do what you know best."

"You flatterer," Shakti laughed, and he didn't miss the pointed look Queen shot him, or the way Shakti reached over to wind an arm around her shoulders.

"Dox will be our layering overwatch. We can pull him out when Morphy establishes her anchor.” 

He turned to the whiteboard. Now, how the hell does he explain his mess of a timeline and arrows going anywhere in something of a comprehensible fashion?

"Laby was thinking." All eyes turned to the girl. She was lucky Twilight didn't seem to mind her kicking, because the way her legs swung was almost violent at this point. "Now that we are a team again, shouldn't we have a name? Like um… the Els search party!"

"Laby," Prime started softly, "we aren't… looking for El— Immo. We are just going to grab him."

"But Herrsch just said he didn't know if Els was on the second or third layer! That makes us a search party! And ‘Immo search party’ doesn’t roll off the tongue!"

"La—"

"That's fine," Herrsch said, shaking his head in the general direction of Prime. “Would you like to be called the Els search party, Laby?”

“Yes!”

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

“The dream is crumbling,” Conwell pointed out, watching one of the floating cubes jerk in mid-air, stutter, and fall to the ground where it crumbled into sparkling dust.

Dox made a noncommittal noise, fingers gripping the edge of the cube he sat on, bobbing gently up and down. It still seemed solid enough. “I was never the best choice for an anchor. If it comes too close, I will have to boot us.”

“Would it not be easier to rewind the dream itself?”

“No, rewinding at this point would just speed up the process.”

Conwell hummed in acquiescence, turning back to his cube-watching. Maybe it would have been better to let Shakti hold him until they were ready. Her dream at least had people in them, constructs to populate it. Here, they only had the cubes, and each other. And Dox was about as good a conversation partner as one of the mute cubes, if he were honest, which he wasn’t, thank you very much.

Dox had spent much of his time in this place. If he were alone, the dream wouldn’t crumble, or at the very least, it would take much longer for it to start. Hopping from layer to layer of the same dream somehow made it more stable. Dox had a few hypotheses for why that was, but nothing concrete yet.

He looked down at his phone. Notifications littered the screen, constantly moving to and fro, still unreadable, but the time now read 91:67. Yes, it seemed the dream was truly collapsing in on itself, if even the analog clock turned into a digital and read something like that. 

The time was running out.

"Well, the grass isn't getting any greener," he mumbled, looking down at the decidedly blue grass. "Let me boot us ou—"

He didn't get the chance to finish his sentence. An earthquake shook the ground under them; his cube decided to give out and tumble to the ground, shattering under him and leaving Dox to sprawl on stone, because of course it would bleed through the grass right then. Of course.

At least he wouldn't carry any bruises out of the dream.

“It seems we are just in time.”

Dox looked up to see Herrsch standing in the middle of the endless field, offering a hand that he graciously took to pull himself up. “Everything set up?”

“Thankfully.” Herrsch hesitated for but a moment. “The whole of DDT team came together.”

Dox’s brows did an impressive dance as bewilderment, gratitude, enlightenment, annoyance and resignation flashed across his features. “Even her?”

“Yes. She will just be a backup architect, to keep Immo’s dream from, well…” Herrsch looked around at all the falling cubes, like oversized comets crashing to the ground.

Dox scoffed. “Point taken. I had just hoped not to work with Sariel again.”

Dox’s old crush on Sariel was no secret to anyone, and neither was the borderline-rude way she turned him down and the unspoken animosity between them. “It’s for Immo,” was all Herrsch could say, and it seemed to simultaneously placate and frustrate Dox further.

“I know, I know! Let’s get it over with.”

Herrsch didn’t expect the way Dox’s foot shot out to kick his ankle out, even though he should have. He didn’t have enough time to make a peep before he crashed to the ground and woke up.

Dox turned to Conwell, who was pointedly pretending not to look their way. Dox’s lips curled up.

“Time to go, old man. Want me to trip you, too?”

Conwell mirrored his smile, somber. “No, that won’t be necessary.”

Dox’s smile stayed as a cube changed its trajectory of fall and crashed so close behind Conwell it made his cloak billow. The shade jumped, turned his head halfway, and then he was gone.

Left alone in his dream, Dox spent a minute more watching as it repaired itself, cubes righting themselves, continuing their lazy way across the horizon, the grass that no longer had traces of stone underneath, the sky that twinkled with far-away lights, endless and bottomless around the wide grass pathway winding off into the distance.

Maybe he will add something to this dream, make the cubes more detailed, some gilded edges or something. Maybe a couple of buildings, so they would finally have something to explore instead of standing around, to show off to Immo when he’s back to being himself.

Maybe. When he was sure it wouldn’t collapse so easily.

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

Dox awoke to a room full of people, hectically trying to move dream chairs into some sensible shape to fit into the lab, checking resources, hooking up extra equipment and… was Laby throwing paper balls at people?

Fuck, he missed these guys.

He opened his mouth to announce himself, but found his throat dry as a desert. He didn’t want to unhook himself from the ADSSU, no point since they’d be going back in in just a few moments, so he just knocked on the armrest with his free hand.

It grabbed Centurion’s attention, who grinned widely.

“Long time no see, Dox,” he greeted. His smile fell somewhat at Dox’s prolonged silence, but he understood once he nodded his head towards the movable trolley housing plethora of extra needles, IV tubes, painkillers, and, most importantly, bottled water on the bottom.

He handed Dox one of those, and Dox gratefully took it, gulping down no less than half of it in one go. “Fuck,” he croaked, “That’s a little better. Thanks, Centurion.”

“Anytime. Want us to lower your dosage?”

“No, I’ll get booted if my levels drop even a little. We’ll be going in soon anyways, right?”

“Yeah, as soon as everyone’s settled in. Glad I brought the extra chairs, haha. Morphy is already in, building up her dreamscape. You could probably join, since you’re doped up. Which, no judgement, but I have to point out— how the fuck are you still alive?”

Dox laughed, head thrown back. Which he instantly regretted, as it made another headache spike in his head. “I’m one tough motherfucker to kill,” he said, squeezing his eyes closed and feeling like the polar opposite of what he had just said. One of these days, a headache would do him in. His tombstone would read ‘Died due to a head cave-in. RIP’. What a way to go.

Centurion placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed for a second before upping the IV and plugging his cables into the mainframe of the ADSSU. “Keep it that way.”

[wiredandrewired]

This got too long and I put it below a cut, screw it.

So I have a whole lot of stuff about Quintessence sitting in files and folders and on sticky notes around my desk.  Both VLD’s use of Quintessence and like...actual alchemical Quintessence (using the exact word and also similar or related terms) and places I semi glued them together.  I just.

I have whole huge SWATHES of this that’s not ever going to get out of my personal notes and whole huge SWATHES of it that is going straight into Project ReVolt when that starts going up.  But the other day I started derailing at @quixotic-quetzalcoatl in the comments for her fun pre-oldadin Altean revolution fic about robotic laws and their universality and also how once a species goes interstellar you have to scale up all their qualifiers for ‘worthy of rights’.  Because as we all know, at least here on Earth, it has always taken TIME for ‘basic rights’ to actually be granted inclusively to everyone.  And we still don’t grant them outside our species because, haha, that’s silly.  Even though we know there are, say, intelligent emotionally complex species on earth like octopi and also that we eat them, because they are delicious and we can’t communicate with them in a meaningful way and they lack a visibly structured society or any kind of culture.  ‘Freedom is the right of all sentient beings’ is cool and all, but it only extends as far as we’re able or willing to parse sentience and I SWEAR TO GOD I am getting back to Quintessence here.

And anyway I have been thinking about this ever since that conversation, and cannot contain it until ReVolt goes up.  And I’m kinda curious where people (especially the Alteans Were Not Inherently Good crowd) stand on it.  But I mean.  Let’s face it, that should be everyone because no culture is ‘Inherently Good’, that’s an oversimplification and a form cultural fetishization Lotor definitely thought of Alteans as Inherently Good Allura definitely thought of Alteans as Inherently Good that is not the basis for a healthy relationship y’all

So.  Quintessence.  I’m not like gonna break down all the rules and laws of it or anything, or get into distillation and the implications thereof, because this thought is not about that.  But the short and simple version is that alchemically speaking, Quintessence--undistilled into form--is like gravity: EVERYTHING has at least a little, and things with more exert force on and can affect things with less.  

A simple living thing (a plant) has a more than a non-living thing of the same mass (a rock), and a complex living thing like with a soul and everything (a human) has a lot more than a simple living thing of the same mass, as they also have that ‘metaphysical mass’ going for them.  So by this token, in Voltron a Balmera--a complex living life form--has a LOT more Quintessence than a similarly sized moon or even planet, even though it might have less actual mass, being hollowed out and all.  We also know that some Alteans (Sacred Alteans) can use the same non-physical communication methods that Balmera do with the smaller lifeforms living on them (meaning it’s a form of nonverbal communication fully compatible with something they already do), and also that those same Sacred Alteans can exchange some of their own ‘life force’ with the Balmera after taking a crystal from them.  They have a whole ritual for it.  I am gonna have fun with this in ReVolt  Sacred Alteans also are the ones who do neat things like healing people when they’re ‘dead’, transferring ‘souls’ (have I mentioned I have THEORIES related to the body/metabody model on why the Rift hits people like it do?), opening wormholes in the fabric of space and time... Other things that, once you sit down with even a basic rule model, obviously have to do with exerting their personal Quintessence Gravity on people and things around them.

What this tells me is that the amount of Quintessence that a Sacred Altean contains, for whatever reason, is HUMUNGOUS for their size.  To be able to exert that kind of ‘gravity’ on the world around them, on complex lifeforms around them.  And there clearly has to be some kind of ability to them to...I guess ‘perceive’ it for lack of a better word?  Because things like the wormholes is really precision work (and it works with MULTIPLE Quitessences is the thing, given the whole ‘scalturite comes from a living thing and therefore has the relative Quintessence appropriate to that’ bit). Things like fishing one soul out of another and carrying it and then fishing it out of entanglement with your own metaphysical non-mass?  Precision work.  It’s balls-out crazy, guys.  They’re like the dudes in FMA using handclaps and finger snaps to perform elaborate alchemical processes that ought to take weeks or months and tons of materials and study but without any of the sacrifice or prep work FMA props use and cranked up to 11.  (Disclaimer I never got deep into FMA).  I mean, clearly they did use SOME tools for this, especially in its most scaled-up forms, but some of it seems to be bare-hands inherent and it’s WILD.  

This also suggests some actual logic to how the heck people are ‘chosen’ to get the Mark of the Chosen and go into Oriande; it’s literally a matter of metaphysical gravity, it has nothing to do with worthiness, that’s the whole reason there are trials once you get there. 

Someone, please imagine with me the kind of impact and implications this has for them in a non-vacuum.  Both within the Altean culture itself, but also, outside of it.  Why do some of them have so much more ‘mass’ than others?  Is this something Lotor was trying to recreate in his colony/at his facility?  What effect did one’s personal ‘mass’ have on ones’ place in society?  We know those with more would have been valued, it’s baked right into their tech, but what about those with normal or even below normal levels?  Because it’s baked into so much of the tech that we see, would they have difficulty operating things on a day-to-day basis, or did this literally only effect one very small group?  Like Lotor says some Alteans are ‘less magical’, but how far does that go?  And then there’s space...man.  Okay.   Once they got off their own planet, you would have a class of people who could perceive the ‘gravity’ of other races they encountered.  They literally would have a built-in metric by which to determine whether or not something was viewed as a ‘lifeform’, and if so what kind: people, or non-people.  And this is very different than looking at a thing and simply saying ‘we can’t communicate with it in a meaningful way, it must not be sentient’ or ‘it doesn’t seem to have a culture it must not be sentient’ or even ‘this is not a lifeform that evolved in a way or from an element we’re familiar with life having, it must not be alive’.  This is literally having a universal metric, a Law of Metaphysics if you will, that you can apply to determine if something is alive regardless of whether that life seems significant or obvious.  A Balmera is not ‘obviously alive’ and is definitely not alive in a familiar way, but clearly Alteans had an at least semi-symbiotic arrangement with them, and at no point are implied to have disregarded the native Balmerans claims that their planet was a living being that spoke to them as primitive or superstitious.  Interestingly their arrangement with Weblums seems slightly more parasitic, or hunter-gatherer at best, unless those Altean Nightmare Terraformers we see on Naxela sometimes are used to kill off planets, but all this means is that from a mass perspective, it has the ‘gravity’ of a less complex lifeform.  This suggests that at least some of that might have been value-based, which okay, you have to expect.

But what if the Alteans--who aside from the Sacreds are VERY LIKELY to have a very high baseline compared to their mass all things considered--ran into a species with a lower baseline level?  Like, a fully complex, fully developed species, thoughts, feelings, culture, etc, lower than they had reason to expect?  Here on earth, we’re always running into new things that challenge our ideas about the way things work.  Did Alteans have a baseline below which a species might not have even been considered ‘alive’ by them, based on what they had experienced and studied?  Or at least alive in a meaningful way?  Alfor sure didn’t seem to take the Arusian natives into account as people when he plonked their reasonably-should-have-been-pursued castle down there in the middle of a war.  Galra show signs--a LOT of signs--of being very rapidly and very strongly affected by Quintessence around them, which would suggest that they have relatively low levels for their mass and complexity, and possibly even having a hard time repairing their own Quintessence (which is A Thing that complex lifeforms are supposed to be able to do).  Oh my god yes it’s replenishable listen Alteans in jars would be weirdly hyperefficient if they did it in shifts?  As a volunteer thing it wouldn’t have been vile Lotor smh  Catch me plugging Sacreds into stasis tubes *SLAPS TUBE* THIS BABY CAN POWER SO MANY COLONIES

And I’m REALLY curious about what people think about that, and just the implications of the whole mess, and I want to hear theories and this has gone on forever, and I haven’t eaten in like twelve hours and I’m late for my meds, and I’m gonna go get food because my brain has shorted out but like someone please tell me I’m overthinking this or scream with me about it or smth.

[jfleurcannon]

passageway, photo by john domont

one year ago my life changed. i woke up from my hysterectomy surgery and i could breathe, fully. i could feel the difference and i hadn't even moved yet.

this journey of pain and coping caused the end to many things in my life, friendships, my marriage, my ability to mask it when it became too much, but mostly to my self-worth. my pain, which was daily, and intense became a part of me, and my personality. i became mean, impatient, quiet, unlovable, and untouchable.

the man i married understood until he didn't anymore. i ended up having to defend my illness and symptoms. because many people don't understand chronic pain or an illness or illnesses that are chronic and debilitating if you can't see them. you can't see endometriosis or adenomyosis or fibromyalgia or depression. you can feel them, but you can't see them on the outside. as a result of feeling like ass 90% of the time i became a pro at hiding it, like a mask, by wearing makeup, doing my hair, and not always wearing pj's.

people would say, 'you look great, you must be feeling better'. i realized by hiding how i was feeling everyone thought i was ok, because of makeup and hair. i did that to make everyone else feel better about my situation, or so i would be asked less questions. or so maybe, just maybe, someone would ask how I was? and not how my illness was treating me. this role lost its magic real quick when it became exhausting to pretend. or i would forget that i had mascara on and cry and realize i made the mistake of not putting on waterproof, like a fucking rookie. this wasn't my first masked rodeo. i knew better, always wear waterproof.

i always knew that a hysterectomy was my body's end game. get rid of the organs and tissue that have caused me so much pain and loss. the endless surgeries, probing, prodding, inappropriate comments by doctors or their staff, medications and interventions, and none of those things actually helped. they never made it go away. the only thing that would do that was to take all of it out. but having this surgery, i knew to be both a blessing and an emotional rollercoaster to comprehend.

on february 15th, 2019 i said goodbye to my uterus, tubes, and cervix. we kept my ovaries intact so i wouldn't leap into menopause early. my brilliant surgeon (the one with the 'small hands') gave me my life back. i will forever be grateful for the care i was given during that operation. i will not miss waiting rooms, stirrups, speculum exams, doctors making jokes about their small hands, or some other horribly insensitive 'joke', i won't miss being told meditation will help, or have i ever thought of going to therapy? i never knew doctors took a comedy program as part of their training. haha. therapy, that's a good one. is that to talk the pain away? that sounds like it would work.

[junkyardlynx]

You like scary stories? Good. I’ve got one. Submitted for the approval of the midnight society, or whatever. Who fucking knows. Honestly, I’m not entirely sure it wasn’t just one shared fever dream between seven stupid kids. Except the part where the dream was real. Has to be real now that I think about it. Anyway. I’m rambling. About all I can do, right now. Haha. How sad. 

The year was 1998.

Good year.

Goldeneye came out in 1997, so it was really the year 0001 AG to me and my friends. We fucking loved Goldeneye.

I was seventeen and I lived alone in a small town in northwest Indiana. It’s farm country’s farm country. I’d been orphaned and bounced around since I was ten, but being nearly eighteen and relatively well-behaved was reason enough for the state to turn me loose with my inheritance. Quitters. You could stand at one edge of the town and spit to the other end. We had one bar, an elementary school, a post office, a vet, and a corner store. It sucked, but it was cheap and somewhat near the only living family I still had. I lived just above the post office and vet, which was probably the only really neat part of town, so I guess I had something going for me. Add a shitty 1988 Ford Probe bought at cost from a frustrated dealership into the mix and I was up street.  

My uncle Mike lived alone too, a forty minute drive away out by the county line road. He had a pretty nice farm house to himself after my aunt Sherry filed for divorce due to her own extramarital affair. I guess when you’re surrounded by woods on all sides and the only things to keep you company are a host of chickens, a couple turkeys, a goat, a dog, and a...fucking peacock, you kinda get antsy for some excitement. I suppose a two story barn and a grain silo aren’t exciting enough. Anyway. They hadn’t taken me in after my parents died because they had their own problems and I understood. Couldn’t force a kid on someone who wasn’t going to take proper care of it.

Mike was headed into the city for the weekend to shack up with this girl he was into. He did this from time to time, too awkward to ask her to move in with him and too shy to accept her offer, so they just had their trysts. Wasn’t really my business. He called me after I got home on Friday from classes and immediately launched into his request.

“Hey killer, I’m going to see Mary this weekend. Can ya hold down the fort for me? Just feed the animals once a day and don’t let Garfield eat anything dumb.”

“Uh, sure.” 

Garfield was the goat’s name.

I watched him eat the license plate off “Uncle” Van’s...van, once. His name was Van, he was a friend of Mike’s aaaaaand he owned a van. I guess life works like that sometimes, predictable and all. Anyway, Garfield would eat literally fucking anything near his big dumb idiot mouth, like most goats. 

“And uh, I think there’s a bunch of beer in the fridge that’s gonna go bad. Could you do me a favor and get rid of it, bud?”

I could hear the wink through the receiver. I grinned as I pinned the receiver between my shoulder and ear, rummaging around through the cupboards to find my little book of phone numbers.

“Oh yeah, sure thing. Wouldn’t want to have bad beer hanging around in the fridge.”

“That’s what I’m talking about. It better all be gone when I get back. Love ya, kid.”

“Love you too, man. Have a good weekend.”

With an audible click, the other line hung up and I was already dialing people’s numbers. Robert was first, as he was my best and most radically tight brother-man. 

“What’s up, Dingus Kong?” 

Ever since he was twelve, he had the voice of a full-time, carton-a-day smoker. I was honestly a little jealous.

“There’s a beer leak at my uncle’s and we have to plug it up. Call Louis and Alex and make their dumb asses come out. You know the address?”

“Hell yeah, dude. Can I invite Jay?”

“What do I look like, a cop? Of course you can. Saves me the trouble.”

“Cool, later dickless.”

“Peace.”

It wasn’t long until I’d roped Robert, Louis and Jay into things, along with Alex, Laura and June. Alex and Louis had been dating forever and were pretty much attached at the hip, while I had a thing for June. A very quiet, subdued thing, because I operated under the assumption that no one was ever interested and that any thought to the contrary was pointless and asking for trouble. 

We met up at my uncle’s house around 9. They’d pitched in and brought a shit ton of snacks but no one brought any actual food, so our diet that night was going to consist of...Natty Light, snack cakes and chips, pretty much. High school kids eat worse on a daily basis, so no one really cared. I remember being shocked at just how packed the fridge was with shitty Natty Light. Good thing I had good friends.

It was a pretty relaxed atmosphere - Louis and Alex were touchy in the corner of the living room, already a couple beers deep. Robert, Laura and Jay were playing Goldeneye on the Nintendo 64 in the den. They had a penalty game where you had to drink when you died and if you were that fucking prick that picked Oddjob, you both had to take a drink at the start of the round and two when you died. It was fair, believe me. Fuck people who pick Oddjob. 

That pretty much just left June and I. We relaxed in the kitchen, shooting the shit and laughing at each other’s bad jokes. Sometimes we’d look out over the kitchen counter and down into the den / living room - the farm house’s design was always kind of odd to me, but I liked it. The whole house was a one story with a basement. You could come in through the glass sliding door and be right in the living room / den area, then turn right and go up four or five stairs to reach the bedrooms and the turnoff into the kitchen / office area where the front door was. The kitchen had a very open structure, with the sink looking down on the den, and you kinda felt like a commander if sat there and just watched everyone. So I did.

“Hey, Charles?” 

“What’s up?” 

I turned back towards June, taking another sip from that honestly kinda shitty beer in my hand. Ah, the taste of youth - cheap alcohol obtained through immoral or subversive means, like a really cool uncle.

“We should go out to the barn.”

“Why the hell and fuck not?” 

I put on some bravado, but honestly, my uncle’s farm creeped me out. I’d stayed here for the summer once and I swore I could hear things swaying in time with the tall grass as the sun started to die. An animal would go missing every now and then, but my uncle always shrugged it off as coyotes. Never really felt like coyotes, but who was I to disagree when he was the one that lived here all the time?

“Hey, everyone! We’re going outside, time to get up in the hayloft and be stupid.”

I heard a chorus of replies and the click-whrrr of a tube television being powered off, followed by a rowdy collection of feet stomping up carpeted steps. Everyone poured into the kitchen, grabbing things like twinkies and cold hot dogs and new beers. It wasn’t long before we took the party outside, flicking the floodlights on the house on for comfort as much as visibility. We ambled as a drunken mass, slowly making our way towards the faded red barn. 

I have no idea why the barn was so fucking huge, given that less then ten animals lived there. The space was equipped for a sizable amount of large livestock like cows and horses, but all that it held was a collection of idiot birds with too much love and not enough sense. A ladder leading up to the hayloft poked through a square, and we began our inebriated ascent. 

It wasn’t long before we settled into a circle, talking about nothing in particular on the warm wooden floor of the loft. June had taken a seat next to me, so of course, I overthought absolutely everything before determining there was no way she was into me because why would she be? She was way too cool and cute. It was obvious. 

Somehow, we got onto the topic of scary stories. Spooky scary skeleton time. I made up some dumb thing about a cannibal cult in the woods, but it wasn’t very thought out, so everyone gave me shit. Robert just thrust his beer into the air and yelled “WHAT DOES IT LOOK LIKE, IT’S ALIENS”, which got a laugh out of all of us. It finally came around to June, who began to tell us about La Llarona, a crying ghost lady in Mexican folklore. 

It was actually pretty spooky until you realized June was like, four foot fucking eight with the voice of an adorable church mouse, and then you were unable to take it seriously. 

We swapped a few more before silence descended on us, slow and natural. The workman’s lamps that I’d lit with a long trigger lighter burned, casting shadows along the walls and illuminating our faces. I smiled as I realized June’s head had come to rest on my right shoulder, feeling not unlike someone blessed by the attention of a regal crow.

“Dude. I’m hungry.”

“You’re always hungry, Illberto.” 

I waved him off with my left hand before looking around. Something was bothering me, but I couldn’t put my hands on it. Honestly speaking, it was kinda like someone had some bodacious body odor going on and tried to cover it up with some sort of perfume. I took as...well, as discreet a sniff as possible, trying to see if it was one of us. 

I don’t think it was, because the more I smelled it, the more I realized it smelled less like body odor and more like that strange stench of death. Sickly sweet, putrefaction rendering the body of something no longer alive into components for bacteria to consume. I kinda wrote it off as dead mice somewhere since I was an idiot at 17. (I still am an idiot, but I was a bigger idiot. Harder head. More impressively stupid. Anyway.) The smell was bothering me though, so I gently pushed June’s head off my shoulder and stood up.

“Since Mr. Crunch and Munch wants some food, I’m gonna run back to the house and grab some chow and booze. Anyone want anything in particular?”

No one really had an idea of what they wanted, so the group just started chanting “FOOD AND BOOZE, FOOD AND BOOZE, FOOD AND BOOZE” at me. I laughed and nodded, giving a sort of half-wave to June who just smiled at me the whole time as I went to climb down the ladder.

Too bad the ladder was gone.

I groaned in annoyance, turning around to address everyone.

“Very cool, who fucked with the ladder?”

“What are you talking about, brother-man?”

Louis piped up, head resting on top of Alex’s. I gestured dramatically at the square hole in the floor, then pantomimed the act of climbing the ladder.

“There was a ladder here. It’s gone now.”

“It probably fell, Charlie.” 

There went Laura, being the voice of reason. I shrugged in assent. Stop making sense, god damn it.

“I’ll just pull a Spidey-boy and jump down. It’s like, ten feet.” 

Something in my head kept telling me that people can die from slipping and falling on ice, but I ignored it. I just had to brace myself, land on my feet and not hit my brain cage. Really simple. 

I walked back over to the hole in the hayloft, sitting down and scooching to the edge. That fucking smell punched me right in the nose once again, pungent and sweet. I almost stop then, but I don’t really wanna look like a goon in front of June. Uh, June and everyone else, that is.

So I stuck my foot down into the oddly deep darkness of the barn below. 

Something wet and hot smacked against it, nearly wrapping around my exposed ankle.

I yelped perhaps the most pathetic sound known to man and physically extricated myself from the hole by leaping up and jumping back. Everyone laughed of course.

“What’s up, penis pump?”

Fuck off, Robert.

“Either the turkeys have really long and slimy necks now, or something down there just grabbed my fucking ankle.”

“Very funny, Charles.” Alex fixed me with a stare, assuming I was taking the piss out of everybody. Holy fuck, I wished I was.

“I’m serious, you assholes.” I’d thrust my right leg out, showing everyone my ankle and foot. A reddish brown goop clung to it, thick and viscous. The smell was emanating from it, and everyone seemed to have taken notice to it. Unless they started retching for a different reason, like my ankle being particularly abhorrent.

“Brother-man, dude, what the fuck is that?”

You’re asking me, Louie Louie?

“Yeah, that’s a negative Ghost Rider, I have no idea. I’m gonna chill up here for a bit, if someone else feels like Rambo, they can go down.” 

I took off my button up and used it to wipe the goo off of my ankle, but the smell seemed to have set in. I noticed a burning sensation on my skin that increased in intensity as I wiped, but it soon faded to a dull throbbing, becoming the least of my worries. In that time, Louis got up to check out the hole.

 He returned to where Alex was, face pale and stiff. 

That’s when we heard it.

“veerrrryfufufufu-”

The sound stopped, then started again. Almost like someone starting a sputtering car engine.

“Verrrrry cocococococo-cokkkkkkkkkhhssssh. Wshooo fufufufufuf. Wshoooo fufufufuckt wishlatter?” 

You ever have someone come up to you and say “hey, we need to talk” and you feel your stomach drop out of your body and onto the floor? 

Yeah, that. That’s the feeling I felt, but way worse. After all, someone wanted to know who fucked with the ladder. Someone who couldn’t string together two words if they wanted to, and they desperately wanted to.

We’d all crammed ourselves into the back of the hayloft, the seven of us together. Oppressive darkness clung to the places not illuminated by the lamps, and the long lighter lay a good ten feet away from us. No one moved to get it. We heard it again and again, some twisted mockery of a voice continually asking who fucked with the ladder. Then it asked again, in my voice.

“Very cool. Who fucked with the ladder?”

Everyone’s eyes were on me, and I shook my head wordlessly as it asked again, perfectly, matching my rhythm and cadence and tone. 

“Hey, if this is a joke because you thought the Goosebumps books were high literature, we’re gonna string you up by your earlobes dude.”

“Fuck off. It’s not. You think I got bored and recorded me fucking around before you all got here? With the tape recorder I don’t fucking own?”

I was hostile.

We were all on edge.

“I don’t know, were you man?”

“Don’t start with me, Robert.”

“Yeah, whatever, you’re a lazy piece of shit. I know you wouldn’t do this.”

“I swear to god.”

The tension was almost lifted until we heard that wet smacking again, like someone slapping a steak on pavement. It was hilarious until you realized it was probably either something dead being slammed around, or some part of the mysterious thing’s anatomy. The smacking persisted as it mercifully ceased it’s questioning, realizing it’s bait wasn’t working. Slowly, the wet squelching of flesh against concrete grew quiet and far away and the stench that pervaded the air began to thin.

I appraised everyone and jerked my head back at the hole in the hayloft.

“Okay. Okay. We’re gonna drop down and run to the house.”

“Is there any better option you have that isn’t ‘jump down and say hi to the crazy stinky murder rapist’ below us?”

“Not really, Alex. Sorry.”

“Alex and I can stay up here,” Louis offered, but she looked at him with her mouth agape.

“Are you dumb, Louis? I’m not staying in that barn alone with this thing. No, really, are you an idiot?”

I looked at Louis with a kind of knowing glance, knowing he was just trying to help out and allay her fears. Couldn’t really blame her, though.

“He’s just looking out for what you want to do. Anyway, we should all go. I’ll go down first and keep a look out while everyone comes down. C’mon.”

I honestly don’t know where I found the balls of steel I was now equipped with, but I was thankful. I think it was just this overwhelming sense of “we have to go now or something bad is going to happen.” Without giving anyone a chance to reply, I broke away from our little heard and took a running start at the hole, leaping down it before my rational mind could catch up.

I let my legs hit and then tucked myself into a roll to rob the fall of it’s momentum, coming up unscathed. I glanced around, greeted by deadly...nothing. Just silence. It wasn’t until I looked at the ground that I noticed it was covered in a thick layer of that reddish-brown goop, and it stunk horribly. I started to gag but I had the sense to bite it down. No point in putting more disgusting fluids on the floor.

“Jump down! C’mon!”

I shouted up and June practically leapt into my arms, so I caught her and set her down, giving her a tender smile. She was all of four foot eight and ninety pounds, so it wasn’t really a feat of athleticism. Of course, Robert came next, and my knees buckled as his six foot frame met mine with that peculiar rapport we had. 

“No smile for me?”

“I swear, dude.”

I swore a lot, apparently.

The rest followed in suit until eight of us stood in the barn, devoid of animals as it was.  I hoped they’d just run off or sought shelter, but another part of me said that wasn’t the case. I exhaled roughly and looked at our group before nodding.

“Okay, we gotta run. I don’t know when that thing’s coming back, but I can already smell that weird stink getting stronger. I think we’ll be safe in the house since we can look the doors and call the cops.”

“Wait, cops? Dude, we’re doing a little thing called underage drinking.”

Thank you for stating the obvious, Louis.

“Oh, yeah! Way better to get murdered and eaten. You’re right.”

“Point taken.” 

We all murmured our assent before taking one last look around. The lamps burned, slowly dimming as their fuel began to run out. I think we left the lighter up there. Not that it mattered, I guess. I reached out and took June’s petite hand, tugging her gently towards the house.

“Let’s go.”

We began to do an awkward sort of power walk, too scared to run and draw it’s attention but not intent on going any slower than we had to. Our group of seven began to cut across the field, towards the shining lights of the farmhouse. 

A horrific wet SMACK from behind us broke that fragile discipline that kept us calm. A plaintive sort of gurgling howl, like a tiger braying it’s dying cry inside of a charnel pit spurred us on, and I roughly pulled on June’s hand. Her fingers slipped from mine for a moment, but her strong and lengthy fingers found mine, slick with what I assumed was sweat. I didn’t bother looking back as the warm porch lights flooded my vision. I let go of the hand I was holding and turned around to regard our group of eight, making sure everyone was there.

Wait.

Eight?

June, Robert, Louis, Alex, Laura, Jay, and myself. Seven. I glanced at my hand, realizing it was slick with that peculiar fluid. I kept the gorge rising in my throat down, somehow.

Swallowing both vomit and my fear, I began to inspect everyone before herding them inside, one by one. There wasn’t a face I didn’t recognize, but there was an extra person here. I got June, Alex, Robert, Laura and Louis into the house before I realized it. 

There were two Jays.

“Hey Jake, come inside.”

Jay kinda gave me a weird look, wondering if I was actually an idiot. The right Jay, anyway. The other one just slowly started to walk forward.

“Hey, I said Jake come inside man. Practice your manners dude.”

My stare was insistent on the real Jay’s, begging him to come in and not make a scene. He shrugged and stepped inside, and only a moment later I was behind him, slamming the sliding glass door so hard I thought I’d shatter. 

The Jay that wasn’t Jay pressed it’s face to the glass and that fetid liquid began to pour from it’s nose as it’s now-malformed hand began to tap lightly on the glass. What looked like clothes began to slough off in thick puddles of what looked to be flesh, pooling on the patio.

“Come inside. Hey. Manners. Come inside. Hey. Come inside.” 

Robert had noticed what was going on and yelled in what I’m sure he’d want me to report was a very manly and commanding shout. Basically, he screamed like a little bitch. Everyone else noticed and booked it up the sort little landing to the second tier of the house, not willing to look at what was happening anymore.

I couldn’t look away. It gently tapped at the glass,  as a second figure approached from the darkness, eventually pressing it’s face to the glass.

My face.

I watched my own face melt away into nothing, forming a featureless expanse of skin with two unseeing and empty eye sockets. The me that wasn’t me tapped politely on the glass like a door-to-door salesman, asking to be let in.

That sure wasn’t fucking happening. In a haze, I waddled backwards, reaching for the phone that sat on the coffee table by the sofa in this 70′s decor mess of a living room.

It wasn’t there. The cord lay neatly on the table, but the entire phone was gone. It looked deliberate, which means that...well, it meant that my uncle took it with him.

Something clicked in my mind, but I buried it as I pedaled backwards slowly, approaching the display cabinet that held my grandmother’s prized compound bow. I heard from my uncle that she’d been an avid hunter into her 90′s and only passed due to the ravages of...well, a car wreck. I was never more thankful to have a badass relative I’d never met than when I pulled that compound bow out of the display cabinet and nocked an arrow.

Never mind the fact that the last time I went bow hunting was when I was like, twelve.

I stared down the two creatures, still begging to be let in in my voice. My hands trembled even as I began to draw back the heavy string. God damn, grandma, how strong were you? What the hell. 

I strafed up the steps, muscles in my arms screaming for release, but I told myself that they couldn’t come in unless they were invited. It was just a glass door, and these things weren’t dumb, apparently. I don’t know what they were. I’d met strange things in the woods around the house, but never anything like this. Obviously. The surreality of it all made it seem absurd to even question what they were. 

It wasn’t until I reached the kitchen with everyone else that I could slowly release the tension and lower the bow, though I kept the arrow nocked and ready. I gave everyone in the kitchen a wary nod as they huddled together, staying deathly quiet. Looking over the kitchen counter and down into the den, I could see one still tapping on the glass. The other was gone.

A soft knock at the door by the office let us know where the other had wandered off to. It repeated a broken string of words in my voice, asking to be let in, saying it was very cool. It’d be humorous if it wasn’t fucking terrifying. 

Wordlessly, I huddled everyone back into the hallway and lead them to my uncle’s room, unlocking it with the key I had. It was the furthest bedroom away from everything else and had a clear line of sight to the hallway, so if they somehow broke their self-imposed rules, I could at least take a steady shot. The door creaked open and the bedroom lay before us as I flipped on the light.

My uncle’s room was surprisingly sparse and barren. No personal effects remained and you could tell where the furniture had been moved in a hurry, like someone was looking for something. It gave the feeling of someone that wasn’t coming back, and the discontent in my heart grew. 

“Yeah, think he’s been moving stuff over to his girlfriend’s place.” 

I said to no one in particular, placating questions before they could come out. A barren mattress lay on a box spring in the corner.

“Let’s stay in here tonight. It’s not gonna be comfortable, but a couple of people can take the bed and the rest of us can take the floor. I’ll keep watch.”

“Charles...”

Robert sounded concerned for once. I laughed. I glanced back and his face soured before he smiled.

“Nevermind, you’re still a penis pump.”

Everyone, still slightly drunk and nervous, began to occupy their own space in the empty room. I sat against the open doorframe, bow laying on my lap, trained down the hallway. Minutes slipped into hours, and everyone began to pass into a light sleep.

Everyone except me.

The sight of the flesh sloughing off their mutable frames was burned into my mind. Not much sleep to be found after that.

Throughout the night, I heard taps all around the house, like a diligent inspector checking for termites in wood. If I strained my sleepless ears, I could hear my own voice rattling through the walls. The deathly sweet stench of the barn had returned, permeating my brain and setting up residence there. 

Once or twice, I thought I heard tapping and murmuring at the single window in my uncle’s bedroom, but surely that wasn’t possible. It was a good eight feet of the ground, as the room sat on the second “tier” of the house. I dozed for a moment and the tapping seemed to grow more and more furious, so I shook myself awake. I began to dig the bowstring into my finger, rubbing it up and down, fraying my own skin until it bled. 

I felt like I was going to go insane. 

A few long hours later and the sun began to rise, banishing the tapping noise with it and the scent after that. I rose, looking around at the sleeping faces of my friends, relieved. I looked around the empty room once more and went to close my eyes before I realized there was reddish goop smeared on the window of my uncle’s bedroom. 

I’d been watched, all night.

All of us had. 

How many had there been?

Enough to replace us?

Did it matter?

Adrenaline flooding my exhausted body, I crept around the house and checked every window, every door. They were all smeared with handprints, fingerprints, imprints of faces traced in that corpse-goo. My stomach roiled heavily, the beer and junk food of the night before threatening to come up.

We were supposed to be a sacrifice, weren’t we?

The copious amounts of beer. The lack of a phone. My uncle’s personal effects all gone from his room. I suppose the rest, even grandma’s bow, was replaceable to him. Including me.

I woke everyone up and told them we should leave. No one fought it, considering we’d survived the night by listening to me. It was a sort of hollow and empty accolade, but I’d take it. 

As Robert and June piled in my Ford Probe outside, I snuck a peek at the barn. Dark red stains and the remnants of feathers, fur and flesh stained the outside of it’s semi-dilapidated structure, as if the animals had been killed by being thrown at the walls in anger. I swallowed dryly, realizing what those wet thuds and smacks had been. 

We spent the rest of the weekend together, all seven of us. One night at Robert’s, the rest of the day at June’s. I tried several times to contact my uncle, but his girlfriend’s landline was disconnected and his emergency cell phone wasn’t picking up. 

Abandoned twice by the family that wouldn’t even take me in, I guess. 

I never found out what those things were. My uncle’s house was marked as abandoned and reclaimed by the bank, eventually being sold at auction for dirt cheap. I didn’t care. I’d stayed away from the forested areas and anywhere approaching natural, and even took to a vegetarian diet for a few months. 

Eventually the memory faded, and years later I had almost forgotten about it. Life went on, and I remained in that cozy little apartment above the vet’s office and the post office. 

Until tonight. 

When I smelled something sticky-sweet, like what the insides of a pitcher plant must be.

Where something tapped at the door to my apartment, begging to be let in. 

Where my own voice begged me to be let in.

[bopbopbeepbop]

Status Post: Chemotherapy

So last July I finished the last cycle of my chemotherapy. Yey! My doctors said I tolerated the chemo somehow better than most.  I was never nauseous or felt weak after the chemo sessions. Aside from the bald head, I felt normal. Well actually I felt normal within the week of the chemo session. On the 2nd week I had various stuff going on ranging from body pains, fatigue, sore throat, toothache, very bad cough and colds, etc.. but these were bearable. Then on the 3rd week, I start to feel better again. That’s how each cycle goes for me. 

Chemotherapy greatly weakens our immune system making us very vulnerable to other diseases. I had to deal with a lot more problems with my body aside from lymphoma. I had a persistent sore throat for around 2 months and it’s very painful when I swallow but my doctor couldn’t find the cause. I also had a very bad cough for months that kept me up at night and had very sticky phlegm on my chest that caused difficulty in breathing. This eventually turned out to be Pneumonia caused by Pseudomonas aeruginosa which was resistant to a lot of antibiotics. I had to be admitted to the hospital again for this. My voice became very weird and hoarse and we thought it was just because of the sore throat and from coughing a lot. I also had Pericoronitis, which is an inflammation of the gums around the wisdom tooth..I could even see that there was a hole in my gums and it was very very painful especially when I eat. Good thing, this was easy to treat. My dentist just told me to keep on gargling warm water with salt haha. Aside from these, I had an infection in the previous site of the tracheostomy. The wound was almost closed but it opened again because of the infection. I also had a lot of trips to the ER because I had sudden attacks of difficulty breathing which we don’t know what the cause is.

So I was super happy when I finished chemo. I felt like I’m no longer sick. I thought I am on my road to recovery. I thought everything will be easier after the chemo, but I was soo wrong. It just kept on getting worse. My breathing problem got worse. I would run out of breath even just from walking a few steps. I consulted a pulmonologist and they thought it was adult-onset asthma. It got so bad that I had to be admitted to the hospital again for few days. They gave me a lot of meds for asthma but it didn’t work. The attacks just kept on getting worse.

Then came the scans. It was a bit uncertain if it was still the tumor in my chest or it was thymic hyperplasia so I still need to have PET scan to see if the tumor is still active which will determine if I need to undergo radiotherapy. 

But they also found that I have a Tracheal stenosis. There was a narrowing in my airway, the opening is almost slit-like which is why it was sooo difficult for me to breathe. It wasn’t asthma after all, though it is commonly misdiagnosed as asthma though because of the similar symptoms and presentation.The only way to treat it is through surgery.  They have to do tracheostomy again to secure my airway. Soo my scar was reopened and I have a tube in my trachea again for more than a month now. I’m getting used to it now.  Now to address the stenosis, we could either go for balloon dilatation or laser surgery. We opted for the laser because it was more recommended however it wasn’t possible and the surgeons really had difficulty during my operation because there wasn’t enough exposure for the equipment to get into the stenosis and because of some anatomic problems like my neck was a bit short, my larynx was too anterior, my thyroid gland was too big. The problem with balloon dilatation is the high possibility of the recurrence of the stenosis, which is what happened. After just 4 weeks, the stenosis is back. Now the doctors are recommending for an open surgery wherein they had to split a part of my airway and then graft it with a cartilage from the ribs but the success rate isn’t that high as well and they have to study more my case first before finalizing what to do now. I also have to wait for the PET scan first and address the lymphoma first before the surgery.

It’s so frustrating. Complications after another. It keeps on getting worse. I try to still be optimistic about it all but I can’t. There was a point when I stopped praying for healing because I felt like it was pointless. God doesn’t heal everyone. I want to keep on trusting God that everything will be okay and that He still has a great plan for my life, but it’s too hard to believe right now. The emotional and financial burden on my parents is even more difficult for me. There are times when I feel like I’m okay whatever may happen, whether I survive all of this or not. Sometimes I feel like I’m ready to accept death, maybe it will be better and easier for everyone. Sometimes I try not to think about my illness and try to live like normal. Sometimes, I try not to feel, not to think about it like it doesn’t affect me at all or that it doesn’t exist, because if dwell on it..I might not be able to bear it. Come what may, whatever will be, will be.  I’m not sure now but no, I’m not giving up yet.