#there's no need for mucus inside closed spaces

[battlestarbones]

sorry OP but the rest of your organs are absolutely NOT covered in mucus! only surfaces exposed to the outside environment or lining an organ make mucus (nose, sinuses, mouth, the inside of your lungs and digestive tract, vagina, etc.) because mucus serves a protective function. all of your other internal organs (heart, outside of lungs, liver, spleen, kidneys, outside of digestive tract, etc.) are either a) directly attached to adjacent structures or b) covered in a layer of serosal tissue (pleura, pericardium, peritoneum) that slides against another layer of the same tissue with a thin layer of fluid in between. this fluid is produced by blood filtering out of capillaries and is not mucus.

Hey do you know alot about internal organs. Cause if so then i have a pretty specific question.

Are... are your organs covered in blood??? Since blood tends to flow thru the blood vessels, and if your body is healthy and all your blood vessels are imtact then your organs shouldn't be covered in blood, right? But just saying that feels wrong.

No, unless you are actively experiencing internal bleeding then your organs are not covered in blood. They are however wet, but it's cerebrospinal fluid and mucus that keeps them that way.

[thecreaturecodex]

Tiddalik

Image © Paizo Publishing, accessed at Archives of Nethys here

[The three themes I'm working with in April are PF2e conversions, wrapping up the World Tour of Oceania, and starting on commissions. This is all three! Commissioned by @vonbaghager. Tiddalik the Greedy Frog is one of the Australian Aboriginal monsters with the highest profile among Westerners, being the subject of children's books, children's plays and an episode of the PBS show Super Why! (sort of a superhero-themed Reading Rainbow analogue). Notably, this behavior is at least thematically consistent with real frogs. The water-storing frog estivates underground during the dry season in a mucus cocoon filled with water, sort of like a lungfish. ]

Tiddalik CR 7 NE Magical Beast This creature is a frog the size of a wagon, its body grossly swollen. You can hear the faint sloshing of water inside it as it moves and speaks.

Tiddaliks are monstrous frogs native to desert climes that survive the long period between rains by absorbing water like a living sponge. Unfortunately, they are peevish and cruel, and move from place to place absorbing as much water as they can, even if they don’t need it, simply for the joy of depriving others. In the desert, tiddaliks are seen as physical embodiments of selfishness and greed, and many tales and legends have sprung up around them. Some of them are even true—the idea that a tiddalik can be tricked into expelling its water with a hearty belly laugh is one of them. Unfortunately, tiddaliks are most easily amused by suffering.

A tiddalik rarely starts fights on their own—although they are carnivorous, they prefer to eat things that can’t fight back, sniping small game with blasts of pressurized water. These jets are also used as a defensive weapon until enemies get close enough that the tiddalik can grab them in its jaws and crush them. Few tiddaliks will bother to chase down fleeing enemies, but likewise they are often too stubborn to flee or surrender themselves.

A tiddalik is about ten feet in diameter. They weigh over twenty tons when waterlogged, and about one ton when empty.

Tiddalik  CR 7 XP 3,200 NE Huge magical beast (amphibious) Init +2; Senses low-light vision, Perception +13 Defense AC 19, touch 10, flat-footed 17 (-2 size, +2 Dex, +9 natural) hp 92 (8d10+54) Fort +12, Ref +8, Will +6 Weakness mirthful Offense Speed 10 ft., swim 10 ft. Melee bite +12 (1d10+9 plus grab) Ranged spit +8 (2d6+6 bludgeoning) Space 15 ft.; Reach 10 ft. Special Attacks disgorge, expel wave Statistics Str 23, Dex 15, Con 23, Int 6, Wis18, Cha 10 Base Atk +8; CMB +16 (+20 grapple); CMD 28 (32 vs. trip) Feats Nimble Moves, Power Attack, Skill Focus (Survival), Vital Strike Skills Acrobatics +7 (-1 when jumping), Climb +10,Perception +13, Survival +9, Swim +18; Racial Modifiers +4 Acrobatics when jumping, +4 Perception Languages Common SQ amphibious, drink abundance Ecology Environment warm deserts Organization solitary or pair Treasure incidental Special Abilities Disgorge (Ex) A tiddalik can release the water in its body willingly as a full round action, and the water is released automatically when the creature is slain. When the tiddalik releases water, it bursts in a 10 foot radius, dealing 8d6 points of bludgeoning damage to all creatures in the area (Ref DC 20 half). This water makes that 10 foot radius difficult terrain. The save DC is Constitution based. Drink Abundance (Ex) By spending 8 hours, a tiddalik can drink 5000 gallons of water. When it does so, it is considered to be waterlogged, which reduces its speed by 20 feet, but it can use its spit attack and disgorge and expel wave abilities. The statistics above assume that the tiddalik is waterlogged. Expel Wave (Ex) As a standard action, a tiddalik can shoot high pressure water in a 60 foot cone. All creatures in the area take 4d6 points of damage and are pushed back 10 feet. A successful DC 20 Reflex save halves the damage and negates the push effect. The save DC is Constitution based. A tiddalik can use this ability once every 1d4 rounds, but only when it is waterlogged. Mirthful (Ex) A tiddalik can be forced to use its disgorge ability with a Perform (comedy) check against a DC of 20 + the tiddalik’s Will save modifier. Spit (Ex) As a standard action, a tiddalik can spit out a jet of water. Treat this as a thrown weapon with a range increment of 30 feet. A creature struck takes 2d6 bludgeoning damage plus the tiddalik’s Strength bonus.

[ask-spidermom]

No improvement after 2 weeks. Loss of appetite. Frequent meltdowns.

There was a crayon drawing on the bottom of the table; a stick person with a big smile, then several smaller stick people with broad Xs for eyes. Harry’s stomach twisted as he stared up at them.

Woodie murmured, almost more to themself than anyone else, “... What happened here?”

“I-I can't remember. I don't remember.”

Only in quick flickers, in shoddy projector slides.

No adverse effects yet. Complaints about the size of the pills. Split dosage into smaller capsules?

Harry scooted out from under the table and let Woodie help him to his feet.

A child’s shriek pierced the space, reverberating through the hall until, for a split second, it sounded as though coming from every direction. After a tense moment, Harry cautiously straightened his shoulders and squeezed Woodie’s hand. They led him out of what was labeled on an old staff directory map as the ‘recreation chamber’— a large room with foam padded floors, a swing and a round table with crayons and paper.

“Let's go this way.” Harry said, tapping an orange arrow on the wall. There were several similar indicators in various colours, all leading off in different directions.

An informational sign in the foyer outside the recreation chamber had denoted them as relating to the following departments:

purple: PLAGUE

green: RETROSPECTIVES

red: BILE REQUISITION

blue: DETRITUS & NUTRITION

orange: HOME

Failure begets failure. Poison in the blood. Poison in the brain. Irritability, nightmares, increasingly uncooperative. Dosage adjustment needed.

The orange arrow led them down another hallway, then around a corner. On the wall opposite, a plaque stood before a large, darkened display window.

“Press to illuminate each specimen…” Woodlock read aloud.

“That- uh, I-I don't—”

With a click, one specimen jar on the far left of the window lit up. It had something small within, a pale, pink spec with a dark spot, surrounded by nondescript tissue matter. Click. The lights buzzed and flickered. Another jar, then another, both containing humanoid fetuses at varying stages of development.

Click.

The last place looked empty, at first. Harry leaned in, then let out a small cry. The light shimmered across the fine detritus of shattered glass and dry mucus.

“It's just a dream, dear.”

Harry pulled away from the window, “It's never just a dream.”

“I mean, it’s the same old things arranged in unfamiliar patterns, is all.”

They continued down the hall. The orange arrow, smudges of something wet and viscous dragging itself along. Harry pushed away memories of his mother sobbing, despondent with a kind of grief too heavy for his little arms to hold when he scrambled onto the couch to comfort her.

“I found out about it by accident. Uh, just poking around in old project folders. Stuff about producing genetically identical embryos with various minor tweaks in the nucleic code,” Harry laughed dryly, “And then I was like, hold on, I know that genome. That's me!”

“You recognize your genome sequence?”

“It’s usually apparent by the second page.”

Specimen No.1

21 days. Perished during later stages of gastrulation.

Specimen No.4

4 weeks. Death due to complications regarding chromosomal abnormalities.

Specimen No.13

32 weeks. Complications with cardiac development.

Specimen No. 15

1 day.

The blue arrow was visible on a wall down the side corridor. The wall had a dark smeared handprint along the bottom that trailed beyond view.

“I try not to think about it. I don't like bringing up stuff mom has done, ‘cause she gets upset.” Harry picked at a loose thread at the hem of his sleeve.

“It was her hand that carved in you a wound that never healed.”

“... I try not to think about it.”

At the end, there was a large room with pretty wood flooring and floral wallpaper. Inside, an overturned dinner table and two chairs.

It felt, somehow, as if there were something missing in the space. Harry closed his eyes, trying to remember what it could've been. A girl, maybe. She had long, frizzy strawberry blonde hair tied into a french braid. She wore a stained yellow-orange jumpsuit.

The absence, her absence. The empty space folded into the figure of the girl, crouched on her hands and knees by the table. She was crunching something between her teeth, pulling a string of sinew from her lips. She jerked upright, eyes wide.

Harry met her gaze. He knew her face, even smeared with blood. It looked a lot like his.

She took a breath and screamed.

[vaultdamned]

3 & 19 for the journal meme!

JOURNAL ENTRY (always accepting)

03.     entry made on the worst night of their life.

ah jeez.

the following is a holotape recorded during this time of his life; more specially, after this moment. (triggers of attempted suicide, self-harm)

he grabs a straight razor on his way to bed, & locks himself inside his living quarters. he begins cutting vital arteries; bleeding out pathetically as the fresh wounds close before he can even blink -- a pool of blood collecting around him as he slashes himself again, again, & again, with reckless abandon, as if allowing that rage & pain to drive him deeper & deeper with each slice, but it doesn't fucking matter. no matter how forceful, rapid, or slow he cuts, the result is the same. the floor's painted red by the time he passes out

the crackle of a holotape echoes as a man's breathless voice disturbs the silence.

❝ I can't ... it's so ... there's no ... ❞ his breathing takes up the tape, words labored as if someone is actively pulling out his vocal chords. he grunts. ❝ it's still ... there's blood everywhere ... i'm drenched, but ... there's nothing. ❞ his voice cracks at the word, as if on the verge of tears, but what comes is a hard sniffle of mucus. an exhale. & another ❝ no idea what ... god, every slice is so ... fucking real I ... i'm still here. I don't ... I can't ... ❞ more labored breathing. ❝ I have no idea if i'm alive right now but it's ... everything's real ... can't do this anymore ... isn't ... isn't real. ❞ a shifts in sound quality --- possibly slumping onto the floor & knocking around the holotape. his voice retracts to a whisper, as if the world is asleep & his lips are to the speaker. ❝ ... it's my fault ... oh ... i'm so tired ... just need ... I just need this ... god ... ❞ an uncomfortable pause, as if the holotape has run out of space, before vincent's timid voice appears again. ❝ I felt it ... deep ... but ... it's ... ❞ his final thought is never recorded due to holotape limitations & his own exhaustion.

19. entry made talking about a simple    /   normal day.

the holotape is knocked around a bit. the garbles of an office setting cut off by the shutting of a door. the squeak of an office chair.

❝ oh shit --- this thing's on? okay, uh, need that statistical report from the lab & depending on how that goes, I won't need to make a trip up there, uh what else, what else ... oh, fucking christ --- make an appointment with Richard regarding the whole sugar bomb shape change. can't change a fucking staple just like that. wouldn't even work --- sugar bombs with a fucking ... I don't know, mushroom cloud shape? doesn't work. moving on. Evelyn said something about ... god, what was it ... something about some event & networking. wear something blue? red? check back in with her. also check in with logan in accounting... ❞ the tape trails off, as if vincent's lost in the thought. ❝ pick up mom's medication. ❞

end of transmission.

[rafent]

16. A memory that makes them angry

16. a memory that makes them angry ( cw; blood )

Word of Sombron’s demise spread until the entire world knew but not before his traitorous Fell Children knew first. Nil was more than aware- after all, he had been there. Standing on the same battlefield as that decisive clash, watching with bated breath for the destinies of two, and now laying his ears upon the confirmation. No survivors- no Fell Dragon, no Divine Dragon. Only shock, only the void. Only anger.

—you bitch.

“What was that, Lord Nil?”

'Lord Nil' snapped out of his reverie. The messenger was looking at him like he were an eight-headed snake- faintly dazed, his face shiny with sweat. Like he'd lacked a horse for his duties and instead staked a hard trot through the encampment to spread the news wide. Nil noticed that. Good. He had slipped; said his mind aloud, but not so loudly that it couldn’t be twisted into something else. Pinned on someone’s exhaustion, if need be.

“—can’t be right,” he sniffled on a sorrowful sleight of expression. “T-The Divine Dragon was so strong. I just can’t believe that she lost—that she’s gone, just like that. It's too unfair!” 'What's unfair is that Father lost. If you were going to die you should have done it alone.'

He lowered his gaze- the two windows into his most vicious thoughts. His spider-black lashes were wet, the space beneath his nose too as he swiped at it absently with the back of his hand. “Please. I'd like some time to myself.”

That honored request at least was nothing but honest. Behind a wall and a door slid closed, he tended to his anger. Wiped at his nose again, learning that the wet feeling he'd attributed earlier to tears and mucus had been a subtle welling of blood- the body's reaction to stressful news. Or not. His nose had likewise bled when Father's body struck the ground, too.

He flicked the thought away like a bug on his finger, choked beneath a perplexing ocean of others. Because there was sadness too, even if it were merely an undercurrent swelling beneath the greater tide of his hatred. Because no mirror was forever impenetrable; each one had a crack, chipped by age or some blow harsher than any other, and perhaps for him this was that moment.

The Fell Heir's lips pressed together tightly. His heart a compact ball of fire and fury that seared the inside of his chest, its gem-studded surface unbearably hot to the touch. He gazed inwards into himself and the reflection wasn't so clear anymore- he couldn't tell what parted his truth from his lies. Was it hatred that he felt? Sadness? For Father? For her? Both? He didn't know- couldn't know. It stung, Nil knew alone. It burned, Rafal seized his chest with clenching, searching fingers as if he could tear the root of it all away. It hurt. His mind and body felt the same.

The blood of his nose dripped down his chin, right onto the hungry dragonstone.

[tonybina-india-2020]

Day 7 : Vivana Culture Hotel - Mandawa

15th March 2023

Woke up to the sound of peacocks clacking and birds chattering, I forced myself out of bed and into the front of our tent and managed 20 minutes of exercise. There was a cool breeze whistling through the branches of the trees surrounding the encampment and there couldn’t have been a nicer day to do some jabs and crosses.

Dharmendra sauntered up along the path with some chai for us around 7.30am after which we had some breakfast with Rangmala for company.  I petted and played with her for a while trying very hard to avoid her trunk evacuations, however she got me anyway, blowing out a stream of mucus that covered my face and glasses. It was no bother, I just washed my face a hundred times before sitting down for breakfast.

We then re packed, throwing everything into the suitcases, all order has gone and everything was stuffed into both cases on a first come, first served basis.

Jagdish was waiting for us at the Sanctuary gates and we piled into the Toyota and settled back, opened a bottle of water and relaxed for the ride to Mandawa.

There really wasn’t much to see, we mostly travelled on the motorway and only passed a few towns towards the end of our journey.

We turned into an unkempt, neglected, dusty road and bumped our way along it, avoiding the many cows and dogs that found their way in front of us.

It has been a very long, dry spring in Rajasthan and the dust has got into my every crevice, everything I touch has a certain crunch to it and there is a fine sheen of granules on every surface. 

The dust swirled around us and even though the windows were closed I could taste the grit in my mouth and could feel the dust inside my trainers.

Finally we arrived at the Vivana, two fells were sitting idly about probably shooting the breeze but the moment they saw us they both jumped up, picked up an instrument and began wailing some tune.

The door was large, but we stepped through a smaller one and into the most beautiful courtyard, dimly lit and hanging heavy with incense.

Vibrant fresco and murals depicting Hindu gods, flowers and animals surrounded us, I stood for a moment and enjoyed the feeling of pure joy at being there.

We quickly checked in and were led to our room and on opening the door were amazed to see how modern it was, a “ four poster “ bed, walk in shower, however the only nod towards the Indian culture was the seating, a raised platform, covered in a mattress and cushions  scattered about it. Who needs a chair when I could lounge on something so comfortable.

Just as I was relaxing, we were off again to meet our guide in Mandawa at 4pm, a bit late to start a tour but I didn’t really think we would that long, after all it was only a walking tour of the town, mainly to see the fresco’s adorning the outside walls of the buildings.

We were met by a personable young man who confirmed the tour time was around 2 hours and with that comforting thought buzzing around in my head we were on our way.

The town is derelict, half the buildings are either in a state of disrepair or just falling down. The Main Street is a dusty, dirty 10 foot wide road that is home to stray dogs and cows, bulls, and small thin shops on either side.

These shops are  held together by corrugated sheets balanced together, rather like a house of cards and were stuffed into every nook and cranny, every available space was taken by one entrepreneurial business or other .

On we walked, stopping every so often to admire a dilapidated building with a faded picture of a god or cow or train painted on its walls.  Some of the Haveli, which are the traditional style of townhouse in India, were open to us so in we stepped,  admiring its faded grandeur, we were informed that a lot of them were being renovated into hotels. Our guide told us that there were 25 hotels in a town of 18000 people, the reason for this was  because of the many festivals held and also because Mandawa had become a filming location.

We trudged on, walking up this street and down that one, avoiding the potholes, piles of rubbish and pools of water.  The one thing I did notice was that there were no hawkers pushing stuff in my face, in fact everyone largely ignored us, we got a few interested glances but that was all.

It was 6pm and I started making “ I’m tired “ noises but the guide took no notice and by now each building looked the same, each fresco looked the same and each description sounded the same.

I think the final straw that broke me was when after 3 hours on my feet, feeling hot, sweaty, dusty and fatigued, our guide took us into an art shop. It was obvious from the start that this was a ploy to get us to spend some money, however, much to his dissatisfaction we didn’t and in fact Tony made it clear we now needed to get back to the hotel.

So another long trek ensued, by now it was dusk and in the twilight the population of Mandawa came out in force, men were sitting in huddles and smoking, children played  in the street, ladies covered in colourful saris or burka were shopping, their rattan bags overflowing with local fresh produce.

I don’t think I appreciated any of this, I just wanted to sit down and take the weight off my feet because knowing my body well, I knew I would end up stiff as a plank of wood in the morning.

We finally got back to the hotel at 7pm just in time for dinner and the obligatory puppet show, which wasn’t a patch on the one in Jaipur, but we watched and clapped anyway.

[xtruss]

Why Do Some People Sneeze So Loudly? Whatever You Do, Don't Try To Hold In Your Ah-Choo.

— By RJ Mackenzie | June 29, 2024

Sneezing is a Vital Human Function, No Matter the Volume. Image: Popular Science Composite, DepositPhotos and DepositPhotos

When I sneeze, everyone knows about it. The resulting shockwave wobbles windows, awakens sleeping animals, and sets nearby humans on edge. My partner, who sneezes like a vole hiccuping, insists I do this on purpose. I maintain that the urge to sneeze at this decibel level is irresistible. Why do some people sneeze so loudly?

What Happens When We Sneeze?

Let’s establish one thing first: Sneezing is important for the body. “The nose is an air filter for the lungs,” says Mas Takashima, the chair of the Department of Otolaryngology, Head and Neck Surgery at Houston Methodist Academic Institute. Inside our nose is a tight mesh of epithelial cells (a multipurpose cell found all over the body), tiny hairs, and thick mucus. These elements, says Takashima, “trap particulates so that the lungs can be protected.” When those particulates build up, they need to be flushed out.

There are also populations of immune cells in our nose, which wake up when they detect high levels of sneeze-inducing compounds. “Some of the chemicals that are made as a consequence of that immune response cause changes in the lining of our nose,” says Sheena Cruickshank, a professor in the University of Manchester’s Division of Immunology. Those changes will be familiar to anyone who has endured a pollen-laden summer or phlegmy winter. The body makes more mucus, swelling starts in the nose, and signals are sent to the brain via the trigeminal nerve, which provides sensation to the face. This signal is processed by an area at the base of our brain called the medulla oblongata, resulting in reflexive muscle contractions. This all leads to a sneeze. But while the causes of sneezing vary, there’s no reason a virus should produce a louder sneeze than grass pollen, says Cruickshank.

What Makes Some Sneezes Louder?

Instead, the key to sneezing volume lies in the structure of our respiratory system. The first step of the sneeze reflex, says Takashima, involves deep inhalation. “

You need that air to be able to expel everything out,” he adds. While air is sucked into our lungs, our vocal cords close tightly. Once enough pressure has built up in our lungs, all the air is expelled. “It is that gush of air that’s pushing through the vocal cords that creates the sound of the sneeze,” says Takashima. The shape and “floppiness” of our vocal cords and other soft tissue at the back of the throat influence whether or not we have a quiet or booming sneeze. Lung volume also determines how much air enters and leaves our chest during a sneeze, meaning no single physical measurement will predict sneeze volume. “Some people with big lung volumes have very petite sneezes,” says Takashima.

Can I blame my resonant throat the next time I rip space-time with a sneeze? Unfortunately, Takashima says it isn’t that simple. “There’s societal norms or cultural factors that can influence the sound of a sneeze,” he says.

How To Sneeze Quietly

Takashima points out that in Japan, where there is a heavy cultural emphasis on not inconveniencing others, people manage to suppress their sneezes. The key here, he says, is to minimize the amount of resonant energy flowing through your oral cavity–in simple terms, closing your mouth. This, he says, will reduce the volume of your sneeze.

Is the solution to this deafening problem really that simple? A look at the medical literature suggests that sneeze suppression may be a surprisingly bad idea. A case study from a hospital in the Belgian city of Liège is a cautionary tale. During the peak of the COVID-19 pandemic–when loud sneezing did not go down well in public–a 38-year-old man reported pain and swelling in his face after holding back a sneeze. A scan revealed he had fractured his sinus. Takashima backs this up. “By suppressing a sneeze, you can cause some medical issues such as nose bleeds,” he says. “You can force air up the Eustachian tube, possibly causing issues with your eardrum.”

But the next time you find a dust mote tickling your throat in a library, or while a pet sleeps comfortably nearby, there is an alternative to a loud sneeze. “There are times where you don’t want to make a scene or you want to try to keep it as quiet as possible,” says Takashima. “Keeping your mouth closed as you sneeze can definitely do that.”

[alifurt]

Dozen Dog Summer

That's right. We are going to have a dozen dog summer. What does that mean? Dottie had 10 adorable and healthy little pups. They are now a week old and have fully captured our hearts.

Before I dive into birthday details I wanted to start with a few fun facts, really for my own future reference because being able to look back on Tippy's pregnancy was super helpful, and I wish I had documented a little more detail to jog my memory... although I didn't know for sure we'd want to raise puppies again.

So some fun stats... just in case we do this again...

Dottie's waist went from her first measurement (about 2 weeks in when I thought to measure) of 22" to 31". I am pretty sure she had a few more inches the final day because she got super big, but I didn't end up measuring her.

Dottie's first signs of pregnancy were loss of appetite then on day 5 she had some spotting. Her eating habits remained very spotty during pregnancy and she went from her normal two meals a day to one meal before bed, if that. She started showing very obvious changes in her body pretty close to halfway through her pregnancy but I was very hesitant to confirm since we didn't have a doppler to hear heartbeats like Tippy's pregnancy.

Puppies could first be felt slightly around 40-50 days gestation and she really started to get big and visibly uncomfortable at 55 days.

So with that, let's go back to the beginning of their birthday last Monday.

It all started on a normal Monday, the 5th of June. As the clock struck midnight, Tyler and I were getting ourselves tucked into bed and part of that process included taking Dottie's body temperature. It had regularly been tracked after day 50 at about around 100.5 - 101.6 degrees but tonight it registered at 99.6 degrees, a sign that something extraordinary was about to happen. By 8 am, she began digging, preparing a "cozy" spot for her imminent arrivals.

At 3 pm, right before heading to school to pick up the kids and their friends who were coming over for a planned playdate, the first signs of labor emerged as it appeared that contractions began and Dottie could not get comfortable. While walking home, Tyler texted saying I should probably hurry a bit as he didn't want to be the one helping Dottie, if necessary. I suggested to the kids that we pick up the pace and I could see questions in Viv's eyes. I kept it pretty vague but Vivian asked "Has Dottie's temperature dropped?" and that specific question I could not deny. I let the kids know that while Dottie could be in labor, we needed to give her space and make sure they did their planned activities and school projects.

Dottie's journey was not without its twists and turns, as she experienced a few surprises along the way. She even barfed water twice, demonstrating the physical demands of bringing new life into the world.

At 5:58 pm, the momentous occasion took place—the mucus plug made an appearance, signaling that the arrival of the first puppy was soon to come. It was an extraordinary sight when a breech puppy made an entrance, only to retreat back inside. This happened twice, leaving us all in awe and a little nervous so I called Carolyn, the amazing and well-experienced breeder who has the studs. She coached me through how to help the pup come through the birth canal without hurting mother or baby and how to quickly act if the sack had been broken. Finally, at 6:15 pm, with a bit of my help, a healthy baby girl was born with her sack in tact (thankfully!), weighing 371 grams. The atmosphere was filled with joy and excitement by all the kids watching this miracle. Dottie's first puppy, named Coral with the pink collar, was here!

With each passing minute, new miracles unfolded. At 7:20 pm, another beautiful girl joined the litter. She weighed 355 grams, and on her arrival she was marked by a vibrant purple collar and would later be named Sailor. Shortly after friends said their goodbyes, a breech boy made his debut at 7:50 pm, weighing a healthy 377 grams. Because of his size and position, he needed a little help out but was much quicer than hhis sister. The kids immediately and lovingly called him "Fat Joe" but would be named Sharkey with a blue collar.

As the hours rolled by, the diversity among the puppies became apparent. The first three pups were mostly black but then came another breech girl, showcasing a striking white and black coat reminiscent of a panda. She arrived at 8:24 pm, weighing 307 grams and we named Tsunami because of the tidal wave marking on her tush. At 8:44 pm, another lovely black and white girl weighing 300 grams joined the growing family, each puppy adorable and surely to have a distinct personality and charm as we get to know them.

At that point, five pups had been born and Dottie seemed to be content and resting. We took that opportunity to tuck kids into bed and left them with promises of news if any others were born during the night and equally hoping for our own rest but more puppies too.

I finally got a bite to eat and Dottie got to know her precious pups. Then at 11:27 pm, things started to pick back up again. A precious white boy with a distinctive dot on his head, weighing a mere 186 grams, was born. The next day it would be decided that he would be named Sandollar and called "Sandy" because of the marking on his head. Tyler went down to tell the sleeping kids about the next puppy, as promised but was met with sleepy "yays" while they continued dozing.

Just before the day was done, the litter continued to grow with another little girl arriving at 11:58 pm. She weighed even less than the last pup at 170 grams and we noticed she had a slightly hooked tail. An adorably unique feature just to her which would eventually lead us down the path of thinking "anchor", "hook" then "bait" and finally settling on the name Minnow and lovingly called "Minnie".

As the calendar day flipped anew, the cycle of life continued. At 12:34 am on June 6th, a lively boy, adorned with tons of spots, weighing 328 grams, added to the joyful chaos. He would be called Sunny with a bright yellow collar. Tyler decided to retire at that point so that one of us could be ready for the early morning with kids while I stayed loyally by Dottie's side. Soon after, at 1:53 am, a predominantly black boy weighing 307 grams arrived, radiating a sense of tranquility and given a grey collar to be called Rocky. Little did I know, we would have a final girl, weighing 326 grams, filled with vibrant energy and a voice, join the pack at exactly 3:00 am. She was given a red collar and because of her howling like the wind, came to be named Breezy and called "Bree".

Dottie's miraculous journey did not end with the arrival of her ten precious puppies. In the hours that followed, I stayed with her, not knowing if she was truly done or if we would have another break and more surprise pups. I knew she at the very least had some placentas to deliver at some point but knowing that process can take up to 48 hours after the pups arrive, decided to finally call it at about 5:30 am and went off to bed for a few very short hours of sleep before the kids would wake at 7 am.

The next day, I diligently watched Dottie when she went outside and confirmed that she did pass several placentas outside in the yard, a natural process to be expected.

Now a week later, Dottie and her ten beautiful pups continue to be healthy and well-loved. Tippy has been allowed to help care for the cleanup of the pups and is treading lightly with her grandmothering responsibilities but is willing to clean up any pup needing a freshen-up when Dottie is a bit preoccupied. Otherwise, Tippy is happy to lay on the couch, keeping Dottie company nearby while she lays most of the day, feeding her hungry hungry hippos.

We absolutely look forward to the fun and adventure this dozen dog summer will bring to us, our friends, and our family!

[valgasnewsthings]

Take care!This is acute bronchitis in children.

 Season for viruses and cold are keeping, and complication for virus infections is bronchitis, which often children having and importance symptom here is strong  cough, and how his cure right?

Reason for bronchitis are on 90 percents cases viruses as ARVD, flu, or cold, thus in risk to sick is rising on the cold time season since autumn till early spring, when weather is wet and non-stable, rare bronchitis happening of bacterial infections as pollen, or allergens, as dust, or smoke. And bronchitis developing with inflammation process in breath ways, transferring on mucus membranes of bronchus are tubers, connecting a throat and trachea with lungs. Theirs inflammation mucus membrane is edema, enlarging in thickness, and narrowing is inside space for bronchus, that leading to hard breath. Parallelly, manufacturing a mucus secret. And in normal conditions bronchus self-cleaning from foreign agents from inside, but in inflammation theirs work destroying and secretion removing is hard , in result mucus is accumulating in bronchus spaces, staying thick and sticky, turning in phlegms, which a good environment nutrients for bacteria spreading. And acute bronchitis in children's are  till 40 percents for diseases, and younger children, is a high incline to bronchitis developing, why this is happens? Local immunity for top breath ways in children till 6 y.old is not formed till end, thus infection is easy falling in low breath ways and causing inflammation , and factors for risks for bronchitis in children developing are weak immunity, chronic sinusitis, adenoids, tonsils enlarged, allergy, passive smoking, and negative factors for affecting of external environment as harmful air of gas, dust, smoke, factories smoke, exhaust. 

Also bronchitis displaying as ARVD complications, and his confused with other disease.And symptoms here beginning with sneezing, ache throat, after main symptom displaying is cough, strong, lingering , dry, transferring slowly till wetting, and with phlegm. Phlegm here is white, yellow, or green colour, and hard expectorating. Heaviness in breath , hard breathing, and high temperature adding till 37-38 C, nausea or thickness.

And acute bronchitis cure at home within 2-3 weeks, by doctor s advices. And not wait, that he is self stopping, thus inflammation processes in bronchus delaying ,thus a high risks and factor for asthma or chronic obstructive lungs diseases, and very dangerous bronchitis in baby till 18 months. And in weak immunity, inflammation transfer from lungs to lung tissue and pneumonia developing. A hard bronchitis complications leading to cyanosis as of oxygen failure in blood, and leading to breath failure, if you cannot help for children .Apnoea is pause in breath, which in sleep happening, and very dangerous for small children's, and here children needing in hospitalization and doctor s helping constantly till symptoms weak, thus baby needing here in doctor s checking, if and temperature rising till 38C, dyspnoea and wheezing having with blood, baby is a not sleep normally of strong cough.

And cure bronchitis here  with a  normalizing normal condition for children are matching remedies selecting, half bed regime, abundant drinking warm, for bed expectorating, air at home not dry, adding humidities as water in bottlers or jars close to radiators or radiators hanging with wetting towels, clothes and periodically change her, and ventilate room a few times/day.

And in bronchitis using are   width pallets : for anti fever, anti inflamed, mucolitis, expectorating remedies. These are drops, syrups, suspensions, suppository, or pills are prescribing by doctor and in depending on from children s age and in right dosage.

And on a many cases acute bronchitis causing viruses and damages with top breath ways, cure beginning with antivirus remedies , and theirs using since first signs for diseases as on first 48 hours as by method for using rules keeping. These are immune modulating remedies, stimulating manufacturing interferon in organism are Arbidol,  Gripferon, Genferon,  Genferon  light, Viferon, Amixin. Stopping inflammation, coughing and phlegm removing from bronchus are main goal in a cure acute bronchitis, and coughing for not ability sleeping, breath hardening is a not comfortable symptom. And in bronchitis an importance goal not to fight this, just creating his most productive ,  thus a cough a protection mechanism in a help for which cleaning from mucus and microbes containing in her  .Mucolitics are fast transferring from non-productive cough dry to productive, wet, diluting a sticky, thick phlegm and stimulating bronchus cleaning. Transfer phlegm in liquid condition, relieving her discharging.And   a popular most   mucolitics are Ambroxol, Bromhexine, Tilcysteine. But in weak coughing pushes in a children and skills for expectorating are hard removing for liquid phlegm, thus a cure adding with expectorants remedies, activity stimulating phlegm removing from bronchus. And these are herbal origin remedies as of thyme, Althea, thermopsis, extract for leaves ivy, plantain. These are entering in lots remedies structures as Bronchicum prospan.

Combined preparations with a complex effects are mucolitis, expectorant, anti inflamed, spasmolitic and antivirus are Ascoryl, expectorant, Codelac broncho with thyme. And wrongs here in bronchitis cure are non control using antibiotics as often self using with a doctor. Antibiotics using just by doctor s prescriptions as in bronchitis with bacterial nature, complicated and chronic infections having.

By Paretskaja, Pediatrist.

from Valga s health news,gardening,and cooking ,and beauty . https://ift.tt/Thkf9x4 via https://ift.tt/QLAm4oC

[bestotologydoctorinindia]

Glue Ear, Symptoms Of Glue Ear, Causes Of Glue Ear, Diagnose Of Glue Ear, Treatments Of Glue Ear

What Is Glue Ear?

Glue ear, also known as adhesive otitis, is a condition that occurs when the middle part of your ear is filled with fluid. It is located behind the eardrum. The liquid can be thick and sticky, like glue. It commonly occurs in children but can also develop in adults.

What Are The Symptoms Of Glue Ear?

The patient with glue ear may experience the following symptoms:

The person starts to talk louder than usual.

Difficulty in hearing other peoples normal voices.

Asking people to repeat what they said again and again.

Increasing the volume of electronic equipment than usual.

Complains about ringing or buzzing in their ears

Loss of interest in sounds

Not listening to instructions or engaging

Disturbed sleep.

What Are The Causes Of Glue Ear?

The glue ear happens when thick fluid builds up inside your middle ear. As with general ear infections, glue ear tends to be more common in children. It is because the Eustachian tubes deep inside the ear are narrower than an adult’s and more prone to becoming clogged. These tubes are responsible for helping the ear maintain a healthy space free of excess fluids.

Following are some of the causes of clogging:

Cold or virus.

Blocked nose

Swollen tonsils (adenoids)

Excessive mucus and saliva produced during teething

Tonsillitis

Tobacco smoking

Drinking while lying back.

Severe allergies may also cause such issues inside the middle ear.

How Does The Doctor Diagnose Glue Ear?

The doctor may implement the following techniques to diagnose glue ear:

Air otoscope: A pneumatic otoscope device is a special tool a doctor needs to diagnose ear infections. This tool allows the doctor to look at the ear and determine fluid behind the ear canal. The doctor pushes the air through the ear canal with an air otoscope. Usually, this breath would cause the eardrum to vibrate. If the ear is filled with fluid, your doctor will not notice the movement of the eardrum.

Tympanometry: It measures the movement of the eardrum. The machine, which closes the ear canal, regulates air pressure in the canal, causing the eardrum to move.

Acoustic reflectometry: This test measures the amount of noise from the ear canal that helps analyze the fluid level in the ear.

What Are The Treatments For Glue Ear?

Following are the treatment options for glue ear:

Auto inflation: One way you can alleviate fluid build-up at home is through auto inflation. It involves blowing up a balloon-like device with each nostril.

Hearing aids and speech therapy: Temporary hearing aids may help improve auditory skills when middle ear fluid is present. It is done to help the child develop because due to disability of hearing, the education and other skills may be affected.

Surgery: It includes adenoidectomy. The doctor removes the adenoid gland from behind the nose, contributing to fluid build-up in-ear. Adenoid glands are associated with the base of the Eustachian tubes. When the adenoids become irritated and inflamed, the Eustachian tubes can follow suit, leading to fluid build-up and possible ear infections.

Tympanocentesis: Rarely, a doctor may use a small tube that pierces the eardrum to remove fluid from the middle ear. This process is called tympanocentesis. Then, the doctor sends the fluid for testing for viruses and bacteria. It can be helpful if the infection has not responded well to previous treatment.

What Are The Complications Of Glue Ear?

Untreated or progressive glue ear may have the following complications:

Impaired hearing: Mild hearing loss may be caused due to an ear infection. However, in case of permanent damage to the eardrum or other parts of the ear, it results in permanent hearing loss.

Speech or developmental delays: If a hearing is affected in children or infants, it may affect the development and speech of the person.

Spread of infection: Untreated infections can damage the bone and the formation of pus-filled cysts. As a result, it causes permanent damage to the ear.

Tearing of the eardrum: Most eardrum tears heal within 72 hours. In some cases, surgical repair is needed. In case of infection, it might not get healed and result in hearing disability.

How To Prevent Glue Ear?

Glue ear is difficult to prevent, especially in young children, but there are a few ways to avoid permanent glue ear so as not to cause allergic reactions and try to stay healthy and improve the immune system through immunomodulatory agents.

Other ways to prevent it are: –

Do not smoke when children and infants are around

Breastfeeding (for 3 to 6 months)

Feed the babies upright while breastfeeding

Avoid triggers

Treating ear pain or infection immediately

Teach toddlers how to blow their noses

Keeping the home warm and dry

Ensuring that children have their ears tested before staring at school.

TAG- ENT specialist in India, Best Pediatric ENT Surgeon India, Best Otology Doctor in India 

[halcyen]

These howls she's heard before, the wounded lupine's cry used to peel through the air vents and strike through walls. Sophie imagines that it does much the same, now, though hearing Arthur strain close to her ear is nothing short of striking. His shoulders hike, muscles pulled taught. Even beneath the layers of his suit she feels his entire body strain for a hopeless hold on itself. She's the anchor, though knelt on soft cushions and hardly held upright herself.

A short glance throws her eyes toward her own front door. The bolt's slid across it, and the chain locked in place. She isn't like she once was. Should what few neighbours are left to feel disgruntled feel the need to search out the sounds cause, they'll face a bolted door and nothing else. None will see him. Not until he's ready to leave himself.

She doesn't know when that will be, and doesn't truly mind, but Sophie's aware that he's typically missed while away. She sighs, shoulders the next heave of Arthur's chest, then curls her fingers through the sodden hair at the nape of his neck. Without her combing, those broccoli green strands would stick to his skin. There's ink beneath those waves she's never seen before, and can't quite make out even when she's being held so close to him.

When he bends his head forward like he's bending to a great gust she cant feel, Sophie cups the back of his neck. Her thumb nests in his hairline, stroking short, gentle lines against his skin.

The wolf dog's rammed his head in the modicum of space between his charge and the back of the couch. His black-grey snout shimmies upward, jabbing Arthur's sternum momentarily while the dog whines to be given amble space. Sokol ignores her, as he's trained to, though can't ignore the barrier their awkward embrace puts in his way. Paws as large as Sophie's face stamp on Arthur's spectator shoes and squeak on impact. In spite of the fact he's been inside Anderson Avenue's haunted monolith for a while now, Gotham's rain has a habit of clinging to all it pelts.

" It's okay. It's okay... " She doesn't withdraw, but speaks close to his ear. In truth her voice is more likely to be netted amongst his hair more than anything, muffled and quiet so the door to her bedroom will remain closed and Gigi won't give into her curiosity and worry. Her hand climbs, to crown him. Like that she can wrap the rest of her arm over and behind his shoulder. She gives the dog space without splitting from the man in her arms.

A great wolf's head lays solidly against Arthur's abdominals. In what Sokol's been given between his charge and the couch, he's manages to sit back on his haunches, away from Sophie, and flatten his throat against his torso. That alone interrupts their otherwise locked embrace. It nudges Arthur backward barely half a step, which the dog quickly claims. He hikes up onto his back legs in a way that surprises her just enough for just enough time to formulate the final crack between she and Arthur's chest. It's no longer just the sofa separating them.

The dog's tall enough to lay both from paw's against Arthur's shoulders, pressuring weight down onto them in what Sophie assumes is an attempt to stop hyperventilation. He'd do far better than she would, after all, and still she cradles Arthur's elbow in her hand, reluctant to pull away and allow him to think she'd wishes to the entire time.

Sophie sniffs, but it does nothing to allay the stubborn ache in her throat. Her jaw, too, has locked itself in place while she purses her lips. Arthur's made far more a mess of himself, having lost shreds of his second face to tears and mucus. With her free hand, still somehow cradling the tea she'd made — she'll check the rug for stains later — she wipes her eyes with the underside of her wrist. Cheap mascara clings to the translucent skin one she withdraws, and she shakes her head at the sight before finally her eyes are forced to peel away from him. Sokol's busy working as it is.

Beneath the heaps of her schoolwork on the coffee table lies a box of tissues. She abandons her drink in its space and, while performing a twist of her torso to wend back around to face Arthur, rips a few from between thin cardboard teeth.

" It's really, really okay. " She tells him again, wafting her snatch of tissues about the bulk of the dog still hanging off Arthur's shoulders. They jump a little less now, wheezing might be beginning to settle in his lungs, but his eyes are red, and paint's peeled all the way down his throat. She likely wears it against her shoulder and sleeve too, maybe even in her hair. She doesn't mind. " I've got you. I just... I don't wanna smudge. " His face. Any more than it already is.

When Arthur manages to deftly pluck his prize from her in spite of the way his body seems to wage was just against breathing, she reaches across the back of the couch again. Her hand shelves against the slope of his neck, just above the collar of his shirt. There she untucks and untangles several wet strands of hair, repeats the combing of her fingers even when the job is done, and swallows thickly. " …Can I get you anything? Do anything? "

But he was arrested. Thrown underneath Arkham State Hospital the same as his mother. A strange cherry-cola scent that’s likely filmed on Sophie's lips now dabs his hairline. He tries to inhale it, but charred lungs force a viscous cocktail of phlegm, blood, and smoke up his throat. Werewolf’s eyes stain bright red once his capillaries engorge. For a moment, her sweet face is buried under the weight of unshed tears.

His chest hikes. Joker’s nose is close to running if it isn’t already. He’d allow his focus to drift toward where he thinks that kitchen drawer is — where she buried all memory of him, how much he loved her, what she meant to him…how she’d saved him and vanished like the scent of that drugstore lip balm she’d borrowed from her daughter. He hasn’t breathed, yet tries to.

Warm lamplights augment her golden-brown skin. A few jet-black coils hang over her face. They’re coarse, yet pillowy beneath his fingertips and slip behind her ears with ease. She isn’t smiling as he’d always envisioned. Nothing he’s saying is funny or vaguely endearing, yet he keeps his head tilted at that stupid angle as if she’ll do it again. 

First to splinter his chest from within is a deep, nasal noise that slides into a laugh. He tries to kill it. Joker forces the sound out his nostrils and lurches forward. His chest collides with the back of the couch.

Sophie gasps at first, but swings an arm around the backs of his shoulders and holds still as Joker, either sobbing or laughing or suffering a blend of both, keeps her cheek moulded to his palm. His dominant arm loops up and around to both fasten her upright and support his slight weight as gravity forces him forward.

Two-toned spectator shoes near-slip out from under him as he lifts high onto his knees, squeezes his eyes shut to let the tears leak, and half-burrows his face in the juncture where her neck meets her shoulder. Doubtless she’ll have a red and white smear to remember tonight by. Solidifies the decision she’d apparently made before they ever crossed paths.

His nose definitely runs. His clavicle hammers her own with every fractured inhale. Joker shakes. Neither his cradle against her cheek nor the mitt he’s woven into her hair from behind can remain still. Her scalp’s warm under his fingertips. Werewolf soothes the pads in and out in spite of his own struggle to breathe.

Her apartment’s margins both yawn and compress. He’s woozy, disoriented, yet unable to relent. Joker laughs so hard he coughs. If she calls the dead man’s name, he can’t hear it or know that his racket’s thrown her nine-year-old daughter from bed and sent her stumbling for the bedroom doorway. Joker faces the television, which still is a wall of white noise that has begun to take shape. A face seeps past the static. Its features remain largely indistinguishable, but Joker cry-laughs until he gags while watching the face in that television smile at him. It’ll laugh like swarms of bees flying directly inside his ear.

Gigi halts in her mother’s doorway, jaw agape that Joker is in her living room either cackling or sobbing in her mother’s arms. She receives the signal from her mother to retreat, yet also that all is well. Ambling circles cosset the back of Joker's head as he strains to breathe. He hasn’t since first that horrible piercing noise that neighbors throughout the complex so often would complain about and try to get him evicted…but this time is different. Her lower neck and shoulder are soaked. Keeping her breathing level is a chore. She tries. Sophie’s eyelashes bat to collect any potential waterworks that cheap mascara will burn and blind her.

Joker keeps his face half-hidden, bleary eyes locked on the face in the television screen yet his mouth agape. Sokol funneled between him and the back of the sofa to apply pressure to his chest and get him to breathe, but it doesn’t work. Sophie’s afro has all but knotted around his hand.

After a pleading nod from her mother, Gigi slinks back into the bedroom and shuts the door behind her. Joker hadn’t noticed their interaction. All but that featureless, albeit smug face in the television’s white noise stares back at him. A stranger's breath finds his ear now in ragged puffs.

He bares teeth, pushes his nose into the bend of Sophie's shoulder, then vaults forward so his hideous coughs aren’t directly against her flesh. 

[thedeathdoctor]

“Tell me who did this to you”

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Reader

Wordcount: 1k

Summary: You are on a recon mission when everything goes sideways. One of your teammates comes and saves you.

Warnings: Blood? Gore?

A/N: This isn’t proofread in any way and my laptop shut itself down 2 or three times while writing so I continued it on my phone too. So I’m sorry if the pacing is weird but I’m impatient about writing for this man and there was supposed to be smut here but all I do is write exposition I just need to write some damn PWP but my brain needs my fantasies to be exhaustively researched/realistic or it ruins my immersion like come on, just write down all the thoughts about being wrecked by a big masked man its so easy. So to say there will be a part 2 with smut but its 5am and I need to sleep.

You float in a tomb of white hot silence. The first thing seeping in is the ringing, a screaming, ceaseless pain in your ears that banishes all thoughts from your head. Cracking open your eyes, you are greeted with the sight of the torn fatigues covering your mangled legs.

“Huh,” you thought dumbly, “I don’t think they should be bent like that.” Deep red blood spilled out of a tear in the fabric; investigating it revealed a gash so deep located about midway up the inside of your thigh. For a moment, you stared at it with the detachment of observing a punctured wine bag before beginning to return back inside your body which certainly was losing blood alarmingly.

Pressure. Apply pressure. Follow the training.

The pack you carried now lay a few feet away, the blast knocking it away from where you’d set it down nearby.  Your legs were certainly not working and the distance between you and the med kit you carried had been filled with a veritable minefield of shrapnel and debris.

But you had eyes on it.

In your attempt to manually haul one leg over the other, you discovered your broken left wrist as your hand struggled to lift your thigh without the other’s help. Your chest hit the ground hard, knocking the air out of you as you rearranged your body into a crawling position. You couldn’t give in so easily. The team had to know what happened.  

Inch by agonizing inch, you pulled yourself forward towards your pack on bloody forearms.  Thankfully, your plate carrier protected much of your chest, but your arms sustained more damage from the jagged ground. From the floor, the distance expanded into miles, disregarding linear space. Breathing grew damn near impossible as your lungs began to feel as useful as a wet paper bag lodged in your chest. Thick, viscous congestion pooled in the back of your throat, and the attempt of hacking it up just made your chest seize violently in pain. The glob of mucus, aided by gravity, slid slowly over the back of your tongue until you could attempt to spit, the concerning amount of blood mixed in with the saliva taking you by surprise. You didn’t want to think about the implications of that, but your leg still had the higher priority by the way it was leaking.

The moment you were able to hook your fingers into the strap and pull the bag close, you were tearing the whole med kit off the velcro, hastily opening it to find the neatly folded CAT-5 tourniquet inside. Your hands shook violently as you pulled the fabric apart from itself until it was taut, wrapped it around the highest part of your thigh you could manage, and threaded the red tab through the buckle. Grasping the tail of the wrap, you grit your teeth and -pulled- as hard as you could manage with your knuckles whitening before fixing it in place. One turn of the windlass pulled a hiss from your teeth, the second had you seeing stars, but you locked it in place. A lone tear fell involuntarily from the corner of your eye.

The stars persisted in your vision, and you activated your SOS beacon. Clutching the radio to your chest, it took all your remaining strength to hold down the talk button. Dear god, you prayed you were still on the correct channel. Your plea for aid bubbled weakly out of your mouth as you called out for the first person you remembered. The radio crackled out a reply, but by now, you were too far away from your body to hear it. A deep and dreamless sleep creeps up and overtakes you.

Flashes of moments interrupt the abyssal eternity you slip in and out of.

A familiar faceless figure, identity obscured by the image of a grinning skull, dark eyes darting frantically in their recessed sockets. Gloved hands roving gently, exploratorily over your body as you are examined for more wounds.

The rhythmic bounce of your chin off of a hard shoulder, one arm hooked under your bicep and another hooked under your knee. You don’t remember there being so many stairs on your way up before.

Blinding sunlight searing into your eyes, dust being whipped around viciously. The thundering whir of an evac helicopter landing, quite close by. A familiar, distinctly accented voice in conversation with unknown ones.

You wake up in an unfamiliar bed. Hell, you had been on active duty for so long that merely waking up in any bed felt unfamiliar. Opening your eyes, you first took in the stark white hospital room you lay in, the smell of sharp antiseptic over the dull baby powder and latex gloves.

You were surprised to see the man resting in the visitors chair, eclipsing it with his massive body.

“Lieutenant?” You croaked, your throat feeling beat to shit.

“Thank fuck. Was worried I’d lost the best damn sniper I’ve ever had, but you still got some fight left in you yet.”

Praise like that was rarely handed out by him, and you certainly did not feel like you’d earned it based on how rough you felt.

Attempting a reassuring smile, you responded. “Takes more than that to put me in the ground, Sir.”

Ghost let out a small chuckle, leaning forward in the chair. His tone grew serious.

"Tell me who did this to you."

“The fucker was tipped off… someone rolled a grenade behind where I was set up… no wonder I didn’t see the car pull up…”

“Mhm.”

You had no idea what he could be thinking, not with his expression hidden behind his mask. You really never knew at any time, the man was a damn enigma.

After a moment of silent contemplation, he rose from the seat, announcing that he needed to speak with Laswell. Before exiting the room, he left you with more words of praise to puzzle over.

“Rest up. You’ve done well, love.”

[antique-traveler]

reeling with the feeling

thank you @shen-hongzi-backup for the prompt!!

Oh uhhh I'd die for something that involves Matt and Foggy at some hot spring or alternatively a warm bath because: sensory stuff half or completely underwater, water, your loved one in super warm funky floaty place.

hope this is something like what you were looking for :-)

(also yes the title is from splish splash don't come for me)

1.6k, T, mattfoggy

read it on ao3

To put it simply: Foggy felt like shit. He’d spent the last week wallowing in his own slime and mucus, and now, even after his sinuses were clear and his voice sounded almost human, he was still left with a full-body ache that made him just want to curl up in a ball on the floor until the entire world forgot about him. Matt, of course, had been completely insufferable throughout the entire ordeal: constantly texting Foggy to see if he needed anything, bringing him soup and tea and eucalyptus rub. Each little check-in from Matt made Foggy so warm all over that he worried his fever might have been coming back.

Today, he could almost see the light at the end of the tunnel. Sure, all of his limbs felt like they were being slowly crushed by boulders, but his brain fog was clearing up and breathing hardly took any effort at all anymore. He told Matt as much when he had called earlier that afternoon, and expected that to be that.

Until he heard a knock on his door a little after 5.

“Hey Fogs, how you feeling?” Matt called through the door as Foggy shuffled out of his bedroom. He felt a little embarrassed by his current ensemble: sweatpants covered in tiny Snoopy heads, an old Star Trek t-shirt, and a thick afghan wrapped tightly around his shoulders, but he decided that plague victims were entitled to comfort just as much as healthy people were.

Foggy opened the door and couldn’t help the fond smile that crept across his face. “Well, if it isn’t my own personal Florence Nightingale, here to help the frail and ill.”

Matt scoffed a little as Foggy let him inside. “Come on, drama queen, we both know you’re feeling better than that.”

“Let me have this, Matthew,” Foggy groaned. “My sense of humor has only just started to grow back into the empty spaces of my sinuses, I’ve gotta stretch my comedy muscles back out a bit.”

Matt laughed softly and took a step towards Foggy once the front door was closed. He leaned closer, lips pink and breathing quiet, and God was it tempting, but Foggy forced himself to press his fingers to Matt’s lips before they met with Foggy’s. This… thing between them, whatever it was, was still new. They still fumbled awkwardly around each other, laying out boundaries, learning how to kiss each other casually without bursting out into laughter, testing out different pet names to replace “pal” and “buddy” (“sweetheart” and “babe” were fair game, they’d decided, but “honey” and “sweetie” were absolutely off the table). They hadn’t even told Karen about it yet, that’s how new it was– though, knowing her, she’d probably figured it out already. The point is, Foggy didn’t want to ruin this amazing new thing they had together just by getting Matt sick from a simple kiss.

“Matty, babe,” Foggy said, “I would absolutely love to put my mouth on your mouth right now, but I’d really rather not become patient zero for the next Kitchen-wide flu outbreak.”

Matt scoffed. “You’re not contagious anymore, Fogs.”

“Oh, what, so you can smell contagion now?”

Matt raised an eyebrow; try me, it said.

Foggy laughed and shoved Matt’s chest lightly, and Matt at least had the courtesy to stumble back and pretend that Foggy’s push was strong enough to move him. “Fuck off,” Foggy joked. “What was I thinking when I decided to hang out with a human drug-sniffing dog?”

Matt just laughed and pulled his right arm from where it had been hidden away behind his back– Foggy was going to blame him not noticing that on his lingering brain fog. “Watch your mouth,” Matt began, “this human drug-sniffing dog brought you a present.”

“Oh, boy! Christmas came early this year!” Foggy said dryly, stepping close to examine the little jar in Matt’s hand. Natural Eucalyptus Bath Salts, the jar read in a condescendingly granola font. Matt smiled, apparently able to tell that Foggy had read the label, and Foggy took the jar out of Matt’s open palm, whispering giddily, “God bless us, every one.”

Five minutes later and Foggy was in the hottest bath of his life, breathing in the sharp eucalyptus scent swirling around in the steam. He cracked open an eye to see Matt clenching his jaw from where he sat on the lid of Foggy’s toilet, glasses foggy and hair beginning to be weighed down by the humid air. Foggy pursed his lips and sat up a little in the tub. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but don’t feel like you have to stick around. The smell is probably pretty overwhelming for you, huh?”

Matt swallowed and gave a small smile. “I’ve smelled worse,” he said unconvincingly.

Just then, Foggy had an idea. He wasn’t sure if it was a normal thing to ask for this early in a relationship, but he was sick and Matt was practically at his beck and call and he was going to milk that for all it was worth. “You know,” he said slowly, “you might feel a little better– you know, a little more relaxed or something, if you got in here with me?”

Matt’s jaw went slack and his cheeks turned a little pink, a rare expression that Foggy had begun to see more and more in the last couple weeks. “Wha– I–,” Matt stuttered before clearing his throat and pushing his glasses up his nose nervously. “Are you sure?”

Foggy smiled and felt his chest grow even warmer than it already was in the hot bath. “Yeah, I’m sure, sweetheart.”

Matt smiled shyly and stood up, removing his glasses and toeing off his shoes. Once his glasses were off, his smile turned darker as he unbuckled his belt and started to slowly slide off his pants. He lazily stepped out of them before undoing his tie. One by one, he unbuttoned his shirt, keeping his eyes firmly pointed towards Foggy beneath their heavy lids.

Foggy swallowed thickly and chuckled a little. “You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?” he asked, feeling himself getting hard under the water.

Matt cocked his head innocently, the little shit, and quirked an eyebrow. “Doing what on purpose?” He shrugged out of his shirt before pulling off his socks and letting his hands hover above the waistband of his boxer-briefs.

“Doing this– this fucking striptease,” Foggy laughed, rolling his eyes.

“Wow, Foggy, are you really that obsessed with how my body looks that you’d interpret me simply getting undressed like that? I mean, I knew that sighted people were shallow, but this is a new low for you, babe,” Matt said dryly, taking his time as he slid his underwear off and kicked them aside.

“Fuck off, I changed my mind,” Foggy said. “Get out of my apartment.”

“No, I think I’m gonna stay for a while,” Matt said as he stepped into the bathtub, carefully avoiding stepping on Foggy’s legs. He lowered himself into the water, sighing minutely as he settled in against Foggy. He was practically in Foggy’s lap, back pressed against his chest, framed on either side by Foggy’s legs. Foggy was sure he knew what he was doing, making that contented little sigh as he gently pressed himself against his erection, but at the moment he was far too lazy to do much about it. The bathtub was small, true, definitely not designed to fit two grown men, but the water was warm and the steam smelled medicinal and heavy and Foggy felt floaty all over– though, he wasn’t sure if he could attribute that last part more to the bath or the company.

Foggy wrapped his arms around Matt’s middle, pressing his nose into Matt’s hair, and Matt rested his hands on top of Foggy’s. Looking down at Matt, Foggy thought that the steam almost managed to obscure his many scars, make him look new and safe, almost like he had back at Columbia.

Matt began rubbing little circles into the back of Foggy’s hand with his thumb and he let out a low sigh. “Your skin is so soft,” he muttered, sluggish and quiet from the hot bath. He grasped one of Foggy’s hands and brought it up to his lips, kissing each knuckle reverently. “Wanna touch you all over.”

Fuck, Matt was really not making it easy for Foggy to ignore his boner right now. Once they got out of here and toweled off a little bit, Foggy was absolutely gonna push Matt onto the bed (or the couch or the floor or wherever the fuck they ended up) and let him go to town, but at the moment he really just wanted a distraction. “Jeez, Matt,” he started, “I can’t believe a blind man would be so shallow as to want me only for my body. Am I just meat to you?”

Matt laughed then, full and bright and loud, and clutched Foggy’s hand to his chest. “God, I love you,” he said absentmindedly, and… huh, that was new.

Foggy had been pretty sure that they both Loved each other, capital L, but neither of them had said it yet. It had certainly been inferred that night when they each drunkenly confessed their feelings for each other before passionately making out and then fucking on Matt’s couch, but Foggy was pretty sure that most couples waited a couple months before busting out the capital-L-love-you’s. Was that what they were now? Like, an official couple? (Does he like-like me? Foggy mocked in his head. Are we boyfriend-and-boyfriend now? Should I ask him to go steady with me?)

Foggy squeezed Matt against his chest and sighed into the hot water. “I love you, too, Matty.”

[quiveringdeer]

I hope the readmore posts right. If not. Sorry non filthy followers. This is my first long more than a dm ramble slasher fic. So please be gentle. Would love feedback if you feel inspired to!

Many thanks to @thesightstoshowyou for encouraging me to turn my original rambling into something more. And to @youtastelikesugar for beta reading for me! Love y'all dearly!!

Warnings: Minor character death, abuse, noncon, sexual themes, asphyxiation, strangling, really really not for the casually thirsty. It hits pretty dark moments that go far and some may not want to read. 18+ Please head these warnings!!

You and Bo are an item. Let's not dwell on the how and just focus on the now, shall we?

He's still got the anger issues but for the most part when it comes to y'all you work them out in the bedroom. Or his truck. Or kitchen. The theater. Hell, even that one time on the roof of the house. Who knew stargazing could make someone so frisky?

When Bo needs to have things rough, which is almost always, it's nothing you can't handle. If it was you wouldn't have made it anywhere close to this point in your relationship.

No. You offer up whatever Bo needs. And for a while you are more than enough.

But there's a deep darkness there. And sometimes his hands around your throat merely rendering you unconscious isn’t enough to ease the tension built up inside him.

So you come to an agreement. If he needs this one thing you can’t provide personally then you’ll let him take it from others. 

If you’re topside when new visitors roll in it becomes your own little game betting on which one he’ll choose. And no matter how much the flirting escalates or how many days he keeps them locked away under the station, you’re the one he comes home to. You’re the one providing everything else he desperately needs and desires. 

But as with all things there’s always a threshold. 

So it comes to pass when a sweet young thing roles into town with a couple friends. Immediately you know which of the prey Bo will zero in on. He’s so predictable at times. Or more accurately he’s predictable to you because you know him so well. Sometimes better than he knows himself with the way he still tries to deny those thoughts and feelings that aren’t so easy for him to accept. 

You do your part. Leading persuading the other friends to follow you to the house while Bo works on their car. Certainly some refreshments and home cooked food for their bellies is better than standing around while he fiddles with their car. 

A smirk curves your lips at the face you expect him to make at your flippant comment about his work. Then quickly falls when you realize his attention is too enraptured by his chosen quarry. Swallowing down the sour taste of jealousy blooming on your tongue you force an easy smile back to your lips. 

“Don’t take too long Bo.” You call out as you usher the other visitors out into the Louisiana heat. You’re proud of how carefree your tone comes off. But he catches the warning, meeting your eyes with one of those patented smirks of his. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Darlin’.” 

A small but sweet acknowledgement of claim that easily washes away that bitter tang of jealousy lingering at the back of your mouth.  You were his and he was yours. Even if the victim was unaware or ignoring it. All that mattered was that Bo remember that. 

Vincent takes care of the other two with ease as they sit at the small dining table outside the kitchen door. Just as you’re bringing out two chilled glasses of lemonade to the table he’s knocked them both unconscious. Blessedly without spilling too much blood. 

It’s why you’d moved a table out here to sit the victims. The dark wood of this room easier to remove stains than having to regrout light colored tile in the kitchen. Never again you’d vowed. 

Dinner has come and gone. Vincent has already posed and coated the others in wax. Moved onto the smoothing and carving of their new flesh.

You take extra time in the shower. Allowing the warm water to ease the tension you’ve been carrying since serving dinner for three instead of four. You deep condition your hair and breathe in the calming scent of eucalyptus and vanilla infused candles. You take time letting your hair air dry while exfoliating your face and moisturizing every inch of your body. 

It’s near 10:30pm and still Bo hasn’t come home. You know he’s fine. His new little toy deftly restrained in his own undertown “workshop.” But usually he has the decency to come home! Is he planning on spending the night there?

That bitterness from earlier is clawing up your throat. You blow out the relaxing candle that was doing a pisspoor job of keeping you relaxed and move into the bedroom. You weren’t going to wait up for him. With any luck you’d be asleep by the time he dragged his ass home. 

One. Two. Three. Three fucking days of Bo spending all his free time at the damn gas station. 

In those three days you couldn’t pinpoint exactly why THIS particular fixation of his was making you so agitated but enough was enough. 

Packing up food from this night’s dinner that he’d forgone, yet again, you make your way into town. The gas station doors aren’t locked. Why would they need to be when no one entered the boundaries of this town without you all knowing. 

A heavy bassline thumps through the radio speakers in the lobby. You pay no mind to the words as your ears zero in on the strained screaming of the poor soul who’d become Bo’s current preoccupation. 

Inhaling and exhaling deeply you school your expression into a stoic mask then descend into Bo’s DIY Tartarus. 

This door is locked. In case the prey finds some way to get loosed you presume. 

“ ‘M busy!” You hear Bo growl out over the woman’s reinvigorated pleas for help. 

“I advise penciling me in.” You call back in a sickly saccharine voice. You tended to stay away from either of the twins’ workshops. Even with his hydrophobic and soap-phobic tendencies you found Lester’s art more tolerable. If you wanted to watch any of the brothers with their chosen crafts. 

You believe you hear Bo say something like “stay there” but the soft volume makes you assume he’s not talking to you. Moments later there’s a click before the door swings open to reveal a sweaty, shirtless Bo. Jeans slung low on his hips and haphazardly zipped with the button at his fly remaining undone. “Hey Suga’. What brings ya by?”

With more force than necessary you press the bag of leftovers into his chest while pinning him with a pleasantly chipper smile before walking around him into the space. “Dinner. Figured you’d need something to refuel from all the activities keeping you away from home.” Your gaze sweeps the dim room, drawn immediately to the lamp light illuminating the mattress right in front of the door. 

The poor woman is stretched supine on the dingy sheets. Arms above her head, wrists bound tight with duct tape. Legs spread wide and tethered by the ankles with some thick, garish yellow nylon rope that prevent her from closing. 

“Thanks Darlin’.” Bo mentions cautiously. Your temper isn’t volatile and unpredictable like his. It’s piercing and direct, like a bullet. And when he had his wits about him he did well to remain out of the line of fire. Though obviously somehow he’d gotten pulled into your sights. He moves closer to you, leaning in to kiss your cheek. A gesture you allow, leaning your cheek out for him in encouragement. 

“Welcome. This is a different setup than I remember.” 

“Made a few changes.”

“Hmm..well. I’m not here to interrupt too long. Feel free to continue.” 

A smirk balances precariously on his lips as he pins you with a skeptical look. “Ya wan’ta watch?” 

“Yeah.” You respond with a casual shrug. “I want to see what’s so captivating about this one to keep you here so much.” 

“Alright Darlin’.” Bo kicks the door closed and sets the leftovers to the side before moving back in front of the woman on the bed who’s returned to pitiful sobbing. “Looks like we got an audience sweetheart. Better make it a great show hn?” That patented smirk is fully lodged on his face now as he pushes denim and cotton down over his hips. 

You think about remaining standing to the side but something urges you to sit down on the mattress, near the victims mucus and tear stained face. 

Bo pumps his cock against his palm, pretty baby blues raking over your form as you reach out to tenderly stroke the woman’s hair. She’s babbling again. Begging you for mercy. Mercy you aren’t in any position to grant at this point. Without warning Bo snaps his hips forward, sheathing himself completely in the warm sloppy mess he’s made of her cunt. The force jolts her body up the mattress as it rips a high pitched yelp from her throat 

“Shh...Shhh…” You coo, fingers still tenderly stroking over locks of filthy hair. Dried cum, blood and sweat matting them into clumps you don’t attempt to untangle. Your soothing goes unheaded as Bo wastes no time upping his face. His fingers digging bruises into her hips as he brutally batters her overused hole. The woman’s shrieks ramp up in volume alongside his pace. The pitch ear splitting. You wonder how after three days she hasn’t completely lost her voice. Brows pinching into a scowl you stand from the mattress. The motion raises Bo’s gaze to you but his movements don’t ease up. 

You’re not sure what has possessed you to these actions but in moments you’ve kicked off your shoes and pulled off your own jeans and underwear. The discarded jeans land close to the mattress as you step up to place a foot on either side of her head. Carefully you lower yourself until your pussy hovers over her open mouth. “If you’re not gonna be quiet then at least be useful.” Bo’s thrusts have stopped now. Watching you in a slight daze as you straddle the other woman’s face, frowning down at her as you speak. “Now lick. Do a good job and maybe I’ll find you a way out of this mess. Hm?” You lower your hips as her tongue eagerly lifts up to meet your slit. Willing to do anything to escape this hell she’d found herself in. 

A deep appreciative moan spills from your lips as you close your eyes and focus on the feel of her tongue lapping over and between your folds. When Bo doesn’t immediately begin his vigorous thrusting you open your gaze to him. “Well? You gonna let me have all the fun now?” Fun? Who were you right now? 

A genuine smile you’d almost label sappy blooms on Bo’s handsome face. One of his hands extends up to grip your chin firmly, pulling you forward enough to kiss you deep. All tongue and teeth for a long few moments before pulling back and restarting his punishing pace. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Darlin’” 

The phrase does more to light a fire in your belly than the tongue working your sex or his hungry kiss. A smile brightens your own face as you close your eyes and rock your hips against the woman’s face. Reveling in the positive feelings swirling through your body instead of the negative ones trying to launch up to the surface. 

In time you reach down and swirl your fingers over her clit. You’re sure Bo has worked her through numerous orgasms in the past few days. He gets off even more manipulating that pleasure from bodies that try hardest to resist. But you want to gift her some pleasure. Surely she’s earned it surviving this long. 

Together you pull multiple orgasms from her overloaded body until the fatigue is too much and her body sinks exhausted against the mattress. Barely any energy to keep motion in her tongue. A limp and sleepy doll is no fun for anyone. 

A dark idea lances to the front of your mind. It sets off a shudder through your body like a firework exploding in a radiant sphere of lines with each fizzling out along your nerve endings leaving your whole body tingling. Before your rational mind talks you out of it your hands move around the woman’s throat. It’s strange from this angle but you do your best to apply pressure against her carotid artery and vagus nerve with your thumbs. Causing that beautiful build of pressure which makes one feel like they’re floating. Hands overlapping the front of her throat, the sides of your fingers apply enough force to cut her access to new oxygen without smashing her trachea. The loss of oxygen is enough to immediately spark renewed energy throughout her body. Her bound wrists beat against your back weakly as her body begins to jerk and convulse beneath you both. You know it’s one of Bo’s favorite ways to finish and you want to show him that you can be a part of snapping the tension built up inside him. 

Your gaze trails from where his hips continue bucking into this latest little doll up to his baby blues. She wouldn’t survive this. But you would. You’d still be here. 

“Mine.” You state firmly, leaning forward seeking a kiss which he earnestly provides. His hands cup your face hard while he snaps his hips. Once. Twice. Three times and he’s spilling into her cunt for the last time. Your hands remain closed tight on her throat until the thrashing stills. You can now give him everything. Without your body ending up forever unconscious to be discarded for another. You can give him everything he needs and desires. Only you. 

[ao3theskyisblue]

Take it easy

Summary:

“Are you looking to get infected?” Nancy raises an eyebrow, smiling when TK snorts. “Because I’m pretty sure I can make that happen.”

“I see you’re just going to be a pain in my neck both on shift and off shift, huh?” TK teases, the words said without an ounce of heat, and Nancy shrugs, grinning smugly.

“My lungs are dying, TK. I think I have complaining privileges.”

Written for Day 4 of  @911lonestarangstweek : Sickfic + “You need to rest.” 

Read on AO3

“Tell me I did not just hear from that lovely nurse Melody say what I think she just said.”

Nancy forces back a loud groan, knowing that she would just be coughing up her lungs again. Looking up from her Instagram feed, she spies TK leaning against the entry of her hospital room, looking less than impressed. She parts her lips to reply, but TK holds up a hand.

“That was a rhetorical question. I forbid you to say even a single word.” The words sound like a warning, but Nancy has worked and gotten to know her partner long enough to see how worried he was underneath the whole tough façade. His arms were crossed, trying to mask how he was itching to wring his hands together, and she could see the residual trembling as he fought back the urge to tap his feet against the linoleum flooring.

“I could have my lungs taken out and still have enough air to fight you, Strand.” Nancy croaks, wincing when she hears how bad she sounds through all the mucus and dry throat, but TK doesn’t bat an eye. She follows him with her eyes as he tentatively closes the distance between them to sit by the chair at her bedside, obviously ignoring the warnings the hospital personnel gave about personal space.

“Are you looking to get infected?” Nancy raises an eyebrow, smiling when TK snorts. “Because I’m pretty sure I can make that happen.”

“I see you’re just going to be a pain in my neck both on shift and off shift, huh?” TK teases, the words said without an ounce of heat, and Nancy shrugs, grinning smugly.

“My lungs are dying, TK. I think I have complaining privileges.” She coughs to the side that TK is not currently occupying, the brutal hacking sound making her entire chest feel on fire as she gratefully accepts the spit tray offered to her along with the glass of water.

“Which is exactly why you are not coming back to work. Did you seriously think the doctors would discharge you like this?” TK lifts an eyebrow skeptically, running a gentle hand down her back as she tries to breathe in without coughing all the air back out again. When she feels no more incoming coughs, she straightens to look at him.

“I can flash my badge and get a discharge back home. Then I’ll just slap on a mask and go back to work. I didn’t break my legs, TK, I have pneumonia. I’m perfectly fine.” Nancy gripes, narrowing her eyes at TK’s scoff.

“You need to rest. Need I remind you why you’re in the hospital in the first place?” TK sighs, lifting his hands up before dropping them down on his lap. “You already had a cold before that call, and then you decided to leap off the side of a bridge like Prince Charming in that third Cinderella movie. Into the lake. Which was freezing, by the way.” TK shuddered, as if taken back to that scene, and Nancy held back a laugh because that would not help her coughing get any better.

“Oh, silly me. I should have dipped my toes in the water one-hundred feet up in the air to test the temperature before trying to save that little girl’s life. I’ll make sure to keep that in mind and grow longer legs in my next lifetime to do just that.” Nancy says drily, and she just smiles innocently as TK glares daggers at her.

“And you say I’m the impulsive one.”

“You literally jumped in right after me, so that argument’s invalid.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t catch pneumonia after, did I?”

They stare at each other blankly, before their lips twitch upwards at the same time as laughter fills up the room. Nancy tries to hold her own giggles back, but it was difficult when she had a partner that gave as good as he got, which made her want to strangle him half the time, and the rest of the time hug him and never let go.  

“I still remember the double death glares from the captains,” Nancy manages to get out between their laughter with coughs mixed in between, and TK lifts a hand to cover his face, a wide grin peeking out from between his fingers.

“Little Amelia must have been so confused. I mean, there we were, soaked to the bone holding her in between us while our entire station just glares at us and planning the best way to murder us both.” TK snorts, and Nancy feels a new bout of laughter threatening to come out when she remembers the six pairs of eyes that just stared at them incredulously.

“You’re lucky Carlos wasn’t there. I’m surprised he hasn’t already been lugging around a portable doghouse for you to climb into next time this kind of thing happens.” Nancy snickers, laughing at the face TK makes at that.

“Oh, he chewed me out thoroughly when I got home. In between tucking in blankets and not letting me leave the couch in my homemade burrito, I couldn’t so much as go to the washroom without him glaring at me for even trying to get up.” TK rolls his eyes fondly, and Nancy feels her smile soften at the affection shining through every single one of his words.

“Love looks good on you, Strand.” Nancy nudges him lightly with an elbow, and receives a gentle squeeze on her arm. She knows she’s not going to like the next words that come out of TK’s mouth when his eyes suddenly sparkle mischievously.

“Speaking of love,” Nancy shoots him a glare at that, because she knows exactly where this conversation was going and that was not to describe what it was. “How’s that thing that we were discussing a few days ago going?” TK wiggles his eyebrows teasingly, and Nancy sighs in exasperation.

“It’s not going. Anywhere. We’re friends,” Nancy shrugs, looking down at the hospital linens, slowly picking at them with her hands. It was the truth, they were friends. So what if her insides feels a little weird when they were in a room together, it didn’t mean anything. “And she hasn’t spoken a single word to me since this happened.”

She let out a few quiet coughs, remembering how Marjan had hovered over them – over her at the scene, but then after she got admitted into the hospital, nothing. Not a peep. Not even a text or the occasional meme they send to each other over Instagram.

Maybe she had just been deluding herself the whole time.

Maybe her heart was slowly splitting into tiny pieces.

Asking for the moon was sometimes easier than wishing someone would stay.

TK falls silent next to her, and just when she tries to put on her best smile and change the subject, she feels a hand squeeze hers.

“Whatever you’re thinking, stop. You and I both know Marjan wouldn’t give someone the radio silence treatment without a reason. And, she has the night off today.” TK trails off, the suggestion lingering in the air and Nancy sighs.

She just wants to forget.

“You’re right, I’m just a little-” Nancy cuts herself off, pursing her lips at the frenzied thoughts circling her mind.

“-Sick and just want to see the person who makes your heart feel all funny for a while?” TK proposes, and Nancy turns to shoot him a playful glare, ignoring the heat slowly seeping into her cheeks.

“Okay smartass, turn down the notch on cocky bastard a little, will you?” Nancy grins as TK laughs, and she feels a brief moment of satisfaction when he doesn’t move away from her swat to his shoulder. “Now, I know for a fact that you brought food with you. Give me my offering.”

With a small tsk and a quiet mutter of “of course, since you asked so nicely,” TK hands her a cloth bag. She slowly takes out a metal container along with a spoon wrapped neatly in paper towels, lifting the lid curiously. Her eyes widen in surprise at what’s inside, smiling at how pretty it looks.

“Tofu?”

“Tofu pudding,” TK adds, smiling. “Carlos has been into Chinese cuisine lately and found this off the internet. You usually eat it cold, but we thought warming it up a little might be better for you. You get your daily dose of protein while actually enjoying the food, it’s a win-win.”

Nancy picks up the spoon and dips it into the soft pudding, admiring how smoothly the spoon slides through. She lifts it up to her mouth, and although a little bland (though she couldn’t really eat any heavily seasoned food for a while anyway), it was delicious.

“If you don’t marry your boyfriend, I’ll do it for you.” Nancy takes another bite of the soothing goodness, smiling around her mouthful when TK blushes.

“High praise, I’ll keep that in mind.” TK chuckles, and Nancy grins before taking another bite, loving how easy it was to swallow.

Then, another thought crosses her mind.

“Wait, how did you get in here, anyway? I thought they were barring visitors.” Nancy narrows her eyes at TK suspiciously, wondering how the nurses hadn’t come in to kick him out yet. TK just smirks, leaning back against the chair and crossing a leg over the other.

“You clearly don’t know me very well if you think that’s going to stop me.”

Nancy hums, though she really couldn’t complain. He brought her food, after all.

“Fair point.”

.

Nights were the worst.

She has been a paramedic for close to seven years, and still, she could never stop being offended by her own body betraying her at the most crucial time of the day when she needed to rest without wanting to tear her lungs out and dunk them in an ice bath.  

Sighing to give into her fate of a sleepless night yet again, she opens her eyes slowly, blinking against the dim lighting of her secluded room. Picking up her phone, she lets her eyes adjust to the change in brightness before a small smile slowly makes its way on her lips at the cute Buttercup video Mateo sent her a little earlier.

“Can’t sleep?”

Nancy jumps, a muffled shout coming out followed with a series of long coughs, making her wince.

Ugh, even the coughs at night were worse.

“Whoa, hey, easy. Sorry.” A warm hand rubbed her back in soothing circles, much like what TK had done earlier, but these hands left a lingering heat that didn’t disappear when they retracted hesitatingly.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” Marjan repeats quietly, her brown eyes stretched wide as she looks at her worriedly, and Nancy tries to smile, waving her off.

“It’s fine. I just wasn’t expecting anyone.” Nancy lets out another cough before clearing her throat, gratefully accepting the water Marjan offers her. She takes a few sips, cringing at how her throat burns with each swallow.

The burn provides a welcome distraction from how Marjan was currently standing beside her hospital bed, wearing a simple green long-sleeved turtleneck and matching hijab, with a soft smile that brightened every single room she walked into.  

She suddenly felt self-conscious about her own appearance, no doubt sporting dark eye-bags from the lack of sleep and looking paler than a ghost from not eating much other than the food TK or Captain Vega brought in for her. Paul had also swung by a few times, along with the other members of the 126 but she didn’t have the heart to tell them and their openly kind expressions that she couldn’t really stomach a lot right now. That, and how ingesting anything, including water, felt like swallowing porcupine quills.

Still, the urge to hide behind her hair was strong.

“How did you even get in here?” Nancy asks instead, frowning when she remembered that visiting hours were long over, and yet, here Marjan was.

She noticed Marjan shifting nervously, and it was definitely something new. She wasn’t sure she’s ever seen Marjan being awkward or nervous, and certainly not around her.

“TK pulled some strings. And I may have had a little…conversation with the nurses.” Marjan winced a little, and Nancy couldn’t help quirking her lips up in a small smile.

“Conversation, huh?” She hums absently, biting back a laugh at Marjan’s nervous glances back at the nurse’s station. “Is that what you called the ripping-into you gave the tattoo artists?” She couldn’t help tease, her smile widening at the spots of colour spreading across Marjan’s cheeks.

“Well it definitely seems like you’re feeling a little better.” Marjan sighs in fond exasperation, the awkwardness dissipating between them, and Nancy follows her figure as she sits down tentatively on the chair beside her.

“Do firefighters just have no concept of ‘I’m infectious?’ Aren’t you also a qualified medic?” Nancy asks playfully, her heart doing a little jump at Marjan’s wide grin.

“In sickness and in health,” Marjan shrugs, as if she hadn’t just quoted wedding vows at her, and Nancy just stares at her blankly. Marjan lifts her gaze, and she fidgets slightly when she feels those eyes staring straight through her.

“I’ve never seen you with your hair down,” Marjan comments quietly, and Nancy starts, lifting a hand self-consciously to run her fingers through it. “It’s usually always in a bun or a ponytail. You look…different.”

Okay, that fills her with mild panic.

“I can always tie it back up? My mother always hated how long I would let my hair grow, so I always have a hair tie ready-”

A hand grasps her wrist gently before she can tug the hair tie off her wrist, and she looks up to see Marjan looking at her warmly.

“It’s a good different.” Nancy lets out a small puff of air at that, slowly lowering her hands back onto the thin covering. She couldn’t help but notice Marjan still not letting go of her wrist. Something conflicting passed by her expression, and Nancy noticed that she kept on parting her lips to say something before holding back.

Leaning back slowly against the ridiculous number of pillows, turning her head to clear her vision of a few loose strands of hair, Nancy waited.

“I’m sorry.”

Okay, that was something she hadn’t been expecting.

She snaps her head up, turning to look at Marjan in surprise.

Why was she apologizing?

“…for what?” Nancy asks cautiously, frowning when Marjan shifts her hand to squeeze her arm. Her other hand is pinching on the edges of her clothes, and Nancy wonders if it’s a nervous tick.

There’s a sharp laugh, though it was lacking all humour that cuts through the quietness of the room, and Nancy wants to smooth out the creases between her eyebrows as she scowls sadly.

“I gave you the silent treatment. I ignored you when– I just, I’m sorry.” Nancy feels her shoulders relaxing, and suddenly, she wants nothing more than to hug the woman looking like the human version of a kicked puppy beside her.

“But you came,” Nancy says softly, waiting until Marjan looks up before continuing. “You still came, and that’s all that matters.” In a sudden burst of courage, she covers the hand that’s on her arm with her own, smiling at the look of surprise that greets her.

Marjan blinks at her, then down at their hands. With a small smile, she squeezes hers.

And Nancy lets her.

“You know,” Marjan starts, her eyes looking a little distant as if she was re-living a memory. “When you just leaped off the side of the bridge without a second thought, the first thing I felt wasn’t fear.”

Nancy feels her heart drop to her stomach at the look of sheer terror resonating in her eyes, but Marjan still doesn’t look up fully.

“Instead, it was a strong pull, screaming at me to jump in after you, a never-ending urge to make sure you were safe,” Marjan says lowly, squeezing their hands tighter. “So, when I couldn’t do that, when Paul had to physically shove me back, that was when the fear hit.”

Nancy suddenly couldn’t feel the burning pain in her throat. She couldn’t feel the constant ache in her chest, or the little prickles of pain every time she breathed.

No, she couldn’t feel anything other than the warmth of Marjan’s hand in hers, and how hard she was squeezing it.

“There was- there was a moment where I wondered if I would ever see either of you again,” Marjan’s breath hitches at the end, and Nancy feels her own heart break at the way her eyes shine brightly.

“I have so much I want to know about you,” Her heart stuttered at the three words, said without an ounce of hesitation. When Marjan looks up at her with shining eyes, she forces back the urge to wipe away the tears that hadn’t fallen.

“I’m here. And I’m safe. A little battered and bruised, but I’ll be just fine.” Nancy whispers, smiling reassuringly, and feels lighter when Marjan smiles back, albeit a little weakly.

Still, it was a genuine smile nonetheless, and there was nothing Nancy enjoyed more in the world than to witness Marjan’s brilliant smile every day.

“Besides, I’ve already been pushing the doctors to release me already.” Nancy shrugs, ignoring the glare immediately sent her way.

“You need to rest,” Marjan shoots back without a beat, and Nancy rolls her eyes.

“First Strand, now you? I’m fine.” Nancy scowls, though the little sniffle she lets out after doesn’t really help her case. Still, she glares up at the female firefighter in front of her, daring her to comment on it.

They’re locked into one of their usual staring contests, where their eyes speak more than any words they could say. Nancy was determined to not be the one who broke this time, but the piercing look of seriousness was starting to make her squirm.

Marjan finally blinked, making her feel a brief sense of victory before it quickly disappeared when she says, “You don’t need to push yourself so hard all the time.”

Nancy scowls.

Pushing herself, huh?

She thinks back to her years in college, to all the people who didn’t believe. To her parents, who had tried to be encouraging, but she could still see the tiny flickers of doubt. After all, a paramedic? Long hours, average pay, and no account for the danger?

She knows there were many other reasons that she tried her best to shove into the deepest recesses of her mind, but she had gotten where she was today by working hard, without once looking back.

Sitting back from a job she’s known and wanted her entire life didn’t feel right, even when she could barely take in a breath without coughing up her lungs or ingest anything other than water.

There’s another squeeze of her hand, and Nancy is shaken out of her thoughts as a pair of eyes watch her carefully.

“We all see you,” Marjan says softly, and Nancy swallows past the pain. “We all love you, Nancy, and we just want you to feel better before you hurt yourself even worse.”

In the dim lighting of the room they were in, surrounded by the smell of sickness and the low humming of the heater, Nancy suddenly feels lighter.

She squeezes the hand she hadn’t let go of, a quiet chuckle breaking free.

“You all love me, huh?” She couldn’t help tease, but instead of flushed cheeks and the anticipated stuttering, Marjan just looks at her with resolution in her eyes.

“Without a doubt.”

 Without a doubt.