#tooth decay in children

[desertkidsdental]

Identifying Common Causes of Tooth Decay in Children

Tooth decay is a significant concern for children. In this video, we explore the main causes, including poor oral hygiene, sugary diets, and the impact of bottle feeding. Learn how to spot early signs of decay and the importance of regular dental visits

[muskaandentals]

Understanding and Preventing Tooth Decay in Children

Tooth decay in children, commonly referred to as dental caries or cavities, is more than just a minor nuisance. It's a significant concern that can affect not only the health of the child’s teeth but also their overall well-being and development. In Gurgaon, where modern lifestyles blend with diverse dietary habits, the risk of tooth decay in children is a pressing issue that demands attention.

Here's a deeper look into the causes, risks, and prevention of tooth decay in children.  The blog advocates proactive dental care tips by Muskaan Dentals, one of the top dental clinics in Gurgaon.

The Silent Progression of Tooth Decay

At its core, tooth decay is the result of the demineralization of tooth enamel by acids produced from plaque accumulation. This plaque forms when bacteria in the mouth ferment carbohydrates from the food we consume. Sugary snacks and starchy meals can lead to more acid production, which, over time, leads to the formation of cavities. However, the initial stages of tooth decay are insidious and often go unnoticed because they don't always cause pain until significant damage has occurred.

Risk Factors Unique to Children

While all children have bacteria in their mouths that can cause cavities, several factors increase the risk of tooth decay. These include a high-sugar diet, inadequate fluoride in the water supply, poor dental hygiene, and reduced saliva flow, which is crucial in neutralizing acids in the mouth. Additionally, habits such as sharing eating utensils and using a pacifier dipped in sweet liquids are lesser-known contributors that can significantly endanger a child’s dental health.

Symptoms and Diagnosis

The signs of tooth decay can vary, but they often start with white spots on the teeth, indicating early enamel breakdown. If ignored, these spots can turn into brown or black cavities. Despite these visible signs, many children remain asymptomatic until the decay becomes severe, often discovered only during routine dental exams. This underscores the importance of regular dental visits for early detection and management.

Innovative Approaches to Treatment

When tooth decay is identified, the treatment involves removing decayed tooth material and restoring the tooth’s structure with fillings. However, in children, there's a significant emphasis on conservative treatments aimed at halting decay progression. These include fluoride treatments, dental sealants, and the innovative use of silver diamine fluoride, a relatively new treatment that stops decay painlessly and non-invasively.

Prevention for Tooth Decay

Preventing tooth decay is fundamentally about instilling good oral hygiene practices from an early age. This includes brushing with fluoride toothpaste twice daily, flossing, and limiting sugary snacks. Moreover, educating children about the importance of dental care forms a crucial part of prevention strategies. Parents and caregivers must also ensure that children undergo regular dental check-ups every six months, which can be effectively managed at facilities like Muskaan Dentals in Gurgaon, known for their pediatric dental expertise.

Muskaan Dentals: Your Partner in Pediatric Dental Health

Choosing the right dental care provider is pivotal. Muskaan Dentals stands out as a top dental clinic and best kids dental clinic in Gurgaon, offering a child-friendly environment with expert pediatric dentists who specialize in preventive care and education. Their commitment to using state-of-the-art technology and gentle care techniques makes them an ideal choice for ensuring your child's dental health.

A Lifelong Commitment to Healthy Smiles

Understanding the intricacies of tooth decay in children is the first step toward preventing it. By choosing timely and regular dental care, parents can help their children enjoy a lifetime of healthy smiles. Regular visits to a trusted dental clinic like Muskaan Dentals in Gurgaon not only help manage and prevent tooth decay but also instill a positive attitude towards dental health in children, which is essential for their overall health and confidence.

[wisedental]

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Call: 940-683-3233 Visit: www.wisedentaltx.com

[alavestineneas]

Heaven

pairing: Aegon II Targaryen x fem!reader summary: Gluttony, lust, sloth, envy, greed—the sins were placed on his head instead of a crown worth his status, a crown that would've, undoubtedly, made some meaning of his life. Without it, the matted, silver hair atop his head served more as a laughing matter. Even the father, taken with the idea of a male babe, has cast him aside. The apple of the rotten tree fell far from the branches, left to rot and decay in the shadows of his own undoing. warning: canon-typical violence, blood&cheese, hurt little comfort, loss of limbs, implied/referenced cheating, drinking, court, RELIGIOUS GUILT, sex lol word count: 8.2k

author's notes: hi lovely people! today, i present you my new creation - an Aegon fic! yay! PLEASE note that: a)YN has children in this imagine and they are important to the story. If you don't feel comfortable reading all that - do not engage with this fic. b) The Blood&Cheese does happen in this univese, so be mindful!

If all is good, am I so excited to have you here - please don't shy away from sharing your opinion, either good or bad, in the comments. Love you!

He was not used to hearing no.

It is a simple truth: of all of the words in the world, one of the most common ones escaped his mind completely, going over his head and never leaving an impact strong enough to attach meaning to it. Since he was a babe in the golden cradle, lavishing in the rich purples of the crown, the Realm opened in front of him, smiling and cooing in his regal plump face. The best teachers, toys, and golden coins were thrown his way—the firstborn son, the long-awaited boy of House Targaryen. Soon, the endless teachers changed into endless rivers of the best wines, and wooden horses grew pairs of tits big enough to bury the temper he had grown to hold. Only gold in his pockets as he turned to yet another brothel door never changed its shape—money travelled from his hands into cups, dresses, and undergarments silently, the countless replicas of his father’s profile sparkling with the judgement of yet another of his poor choices.

Sometimes Aegon wondered what would be the breaking point for his righteous Lady Mother—when would her head finally turn to look him in the eye and mutter a swift ‘’no’’ instead of lowering her gaze and pursing her lips together at his new whim? He foolishly thought it would be the wine. Nevertheless, each time Alicent found him covered in his own dinner, dragged to the castle by some unfortunate knight, she raged and cried, but never forbade him from drinking again. Yet, the more he ate, the more he wanted.

He thought his heart a hole—the darkest, most blackest place of his soul, rotten from the day his violet eyes opened and took in the world around them. Like a tooth, white as snow upon its birth, growing spoiled from the sweet nectars the Realm had to offer. The small spot, not bigger than a needle's ear, appears first, going unnoticed. Then, it fattens and spreads its disease through the mouth until there are no teeth to chew with, leaving only a gaping void where once there was a smile. Gluttony, lust, sloth, envy, greed—the sins were placed on his head instead of a crown worth his status, a crown that would've, undoubtedly, made some meaning of his life. Without it, the matted, silver hair atop his head served more as a laughing matter. Even the father, taken with the idea of a male babe, has cast him aside. The apple of the rotten tree fell far from the branches, left to rot and decay in the shadows of his own undoing.

In the name of traditions he had no reason to engage in, the only place where he had hoped to be something or become something—his chambers—were occupied by the stark reminder of his worthlessness. Heleana, his sister, his wife—the almost always silent figure, a shadow of their childhood. It pained him to watch her close her eyes every time he entered the chambers to install the needed heir into his sister's womb. Aegon remembers her as a girl, often strange but never unkind—the image he forced himself to forget every time she undressed in front of him . The violet eyes they both shared, the silver braids covering her girlish figure—everything about House Targaryen made him ache with guilt and shame. He could not stand to look at the similar braids on his own shoulders, so he cut them off in a drunken rage, burning them in the flames of the fire. Oh, how he wished he could burn himself there instead.

None of his whores had any trace of Old Valyria. None of his whores had a trace of her, either. The one his famished, bloodied heart set the pinnacle of his desire. He could have any woman in the world, from the slaves to the highborn maidens, begging for him to spare one glance, one night, one favour from the night-made king. But it was her, the secret so shameful that even his spoiled mind could not admit it. Aegon studies the patterns in the ceiling, his body almost in pain from the aching feeling in his abdomen. The water around him moves, caressing his skin like a lover's touch. It's burning, he notes, despite being nearly wintry.

''Does your brother know you are here?''

He almost does not recognise his voice as he speaks, the words barely a whisper in the echoing chamber. It's low and darkened, leaving his mouth with a tingle of bitterness. The question comes out twisted, ridicule thrown into another naked body in his bath—it earns only a low chuckle from the woman in front of him.

''Yes, my king, I believe he does.'' Lady YN looked more entertained than embarrassed; all of the pleasantries the etiquette demanded they follow were out of the question anyway. The water hid most of her body, leaving only the head and neck for display. She was bare, the ends of her hair steaming down the ends of a bath as she lounged comfortably, completely at ease. ''The twins often share a piece of soul, my king. You must have known from your own children."

Aegon hms, his eyes leaving their place and setting on the woman instead. Coloured with wetness, her hair stuck to her forehead in the heat of the bath , starting small streams of water down her face. Striking, almost glistening eyes stared back at him. Something unreadable lay there, something not meant for him to see. Her body is one of the woman, not a girl; the marks of not one but two babes nurtured by her womb and breasts are simple in their beauty; this, Aegon thinks, ought to be the image of Mother on the walls of Sept. Lady YN, a widow to some highborn Lord he wished not to know the name of, and mother to his two children. Lady YN, a twin sister to Ser Leon Estermont. Lady YN, the mistress of the king.

''Are you just going to stare?'' The woman chuckled softly, bringing Aegon out of his reverie. "Or are you going to fuck me?''

Aegon barked a short laugh, adjusting himself to hold the weight of the woman climbing on top of him, his arms catching her hips with ease. ''Holy Seven! Where have you learned such profanities, woman? Not fuck,'' he playfully scolded, trapping her lips in a teasing kiss. ''making love, that is,'' he mumbled against her jaw.

Aegon moved slower than usual, taking his time to savour each moment. Something was enchanting in the way droplets of sparkling water clung to her skin, glistening like diamonds in the sunlight—it was as if the water itself had moulded her, leaving an indelible mark on her very being. Even now, with his headlight from wine and limbs burning for a rest, the hunger pools in his stomach, demanding more of her. YN's voice is sickening; it wraps around Aegon's dried throat and lands on his chest like a weighty stone. The hushed moans, mixed with whispers, send shivers down his spine as he rocks into her body, caught in the intoxicating web she weaves with her words. It almost pained him to pull away from her, knowing that he would never be able to resist her siren call for long.

''What are you doing?'' YN asks, her voice laced with a hint of amusement, as she places her hands on his chest, the pace of her hips never faltering.

Aegon struggles to find the words to respond, lost in the dizzying whirlwind of sensations she evokes within him. He can only manage a breathless, ''There is something I want to give you,'' before succumbing once again to her spellbinding presence. It's not an inquiry; the words leave Aegon's mouth without much thought behind them . His hand blindly travels to the small table somewhere behind his back, knocking down two goblets and a burned candle in his haste. ''Here,'' he says, pushing the cascade of hair aside to place a small golden pendant on her neck. "Oh, Gods,'' he murmurs, his eyes fixed on the pendant as it rests against her skin. "Had it made for you.''

He tried to focus on the pendant, but the sight of breasts moving before him was too much to bear. The pace she set, undeniably to torment him further, was excruciating. A few more moments, and he might finish right then and there. But he couldn't bring himself to stop her or put an end to this torturous game. Aegon closed his eyes, surrendering to the overwhelming sensations that consumed him.

''Please, don't stop," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the sound of his own racing heartbeat. Aegon wanted to cease existing, to turn around, and to never be seen here again. Instead, he just sat in the small bath, a little too small for two people, feeling redness creep up his neck onto his cheeks. To his surprise, the heat pooling inside of him only grew as his courage slipped away with each moment. A completely pleasurable sensation took over him, spreading heat between his legs and causing his breath to quicken. Aegon's hips instinctively arched forward, craving more of her touch. The waves around him mixed with the ones of pleasure as he came, the hands roaming his body, leaving him feeling more alive than ever before.

Numb, he watched the water swirl around the YN's breasts and knees as she reached her high a few moments later, a smile playing on her lips as she looked down at him. She rinsed her body, washing away the sweat and salt, before stepping out of the water with a satisfied sigh. Aegon followed her body with hungry eyes as she stepped out of the bath and reached out for the cloth to dry herself. First, her hair, then her neck and arms; she meticulously dried every inch of her body before slipping into a blue gown, one of her hands catching and bringing to light his gift. A sun-shaped gold pendant dangled from her fingers, glinting in the fire. She traced the intricate design with her thumb, a fond smile on her face as she remembered the moment he had given it to her.

Aegon's eyes softened as he watched her. ''I intend to have you join me for the early meal on the morrow. ''

''I would be pleased to, my king.'' She pauses, a sly smile playing on her lips. ''May the night be kind to you.''

He chuckled, his own smile mirroring hers. ''And may your dreams be filled with nothing but joy.''

With a gentle nod, she excused herself from his presence, the gold pendant still clasped in her hand. Aegon sighed, not bothering to sit straight, leaning on the bath walls instead. He prayed to Seven for even a chance to close his lids this sombre night; his usual sleep was turned into a nightmare and a fever dream at once—the one that left him covered in sweat and desperate for sweet oblivion. No matter how much he pleaded, the laughing eyes of Lady YN wouldn't leave her alone. He would lay in bed until sunrise, staring into the faintly pink sky, until dawn came and the cycle of never-ending torment began again.

There were a lot of sinners in all the corners of the world; they kept on with their small affairs, akin to flies, wasting each of their numbered days on the things that carried no meaning in the great map of history. Slaves of foreign lands, smallfolk of fields and seas, servants scurrying in the shadows of their masters or draped with precious cloth figures of noblemen—life and later death—showed no interest in their whereabouts. Their existence was fleeting; their legacy was forgotten with the passing of the seasons.

YN grew tired of never-changing identities quickly; the same faces of mediocrity surrounded her, stealing the much-needed fresh air with the talk of trivial matters. Noon and night mixed in one globe in her throat, tasting of nothing but bitterness—the same flute, feast, and court affairs sun after sun. The small girl near her screeches and laughs, her little hands occupied with the dolls, as she attempts to flee from the grasp of her older brother. They seemed to be in their own world, running down one of the stone halls of the Red Keep with a speed the best stallions of the kingdoms could only dream of.

''You are cheating! I saw it; you did!''

Peter was her firstborn, a boy who is now nearing the age of a man—two and ten summers have passed since she first heard his cry echo in the cold halls of the family castle. Slender, even sickly skinny—as her late lord husband declared upon his birth, he fell sick often—she has spent countless nights near his cradle, wishing to see the day he becomes a healthy, strong young lad. To the delight of everybody, and YN as well , her prayers did not go unanswered. Peter was now skilled with a blade, his fragile figure resulting in swifter, much softer moves that left his teacher's prowess a remarkable honour of knighthood.

''I am not! I'm just faster than you!''

A smile spreads across YN's face as she looks at the little girl in her yellow dress, who now hides behind a collum. Meg was a keen, healthy babe of four summers, with a mischievous glint in her eyes that mirrored YN's own. Other than that, she looked nothing like her—all her father, the Lord husband, lost to illness. What a blessing it was to look at her daughter's face and see him. What a curse.

''Please, be civil. Remember, no hitting, no biting, and absolutely no spitting are worthy of a knight or a lady."

No talking, either, if she could convince them to listen for longer than two minutes. Having her children play with the royal heirs was Aegon’s idea; like that, she had more time on her hands, and twins could enjoy the company of someone closer to ''normal'' folk, as he had worded it. It was not something she could refuse, although she wished nothing more than to do so. The royals were a serious matter; one wrong word and your head ornates the castle walls instead of the golden banners. She did not doubt her children; they were kind-hearted, lovely people, but the notable ‘incidents’ of house Targaryen kept her awake at night, wishing her children would be brought to her with all their eyes and limbs. Leon, her brother, assured her nothing would happen— it was he who took her children to and from the Queen's chambers. He told her of great opportunities for his niece and nephew that came with being closer to the court, but it did not ease YN’s mind fully. All of her family, in one way or another, entertained the royal and noble house of the dragons—the fate most minor houses considered a blessing. Most, but not all.

Before the death of her husband and long before either of her children came into this globe, it was just two of them in their small little world—the twins of House Estermont, the heirs to the misfortunes of the Greenstone's lush greenery and endless tides of sea. She would've stayed there, on a small island enveloped by mountains and castle walls. It was Leon who wanted to make something of himself, with dreams as high as the seagulls up in the sapphire sky above their childhood bedchambers. There was not thought more ridiculous than her dear brother in the walls of the capital , and yet he left the Estermont as soon as the banners were called for young swords in the court of then-prince Aegon. Then she married, and the rest was drowned in the endless nights of tears. Sometimes, only when no one was around, YN wondered if she could've stayed forever there, in her home, without having to see the world that was often so cruel—had her brother not left her so early; had he been the lord instead of their father when she came of age?

''Mother, are you going?''

The loud voice has startled YN out of her thoughts. She smiled at her son, adjusting the skirts of her gown before nodding. ''Yes, my sweet. Let us come in; we do not want to keep the Queen waiting, do we now?''

The Queen. YN has heard many rumours in court concerning the sanity of young Queen Helaena, her preference for silence, and modest foods, but she has never seen her closer than a few yards. Standing before the large wooden door to her chambers seemed foolish—had she been any other woman, perhaps she had nothing to fear—to present her children to the royal maids and escape to the comfort of the halls once more. But she was no ordinary woman—she was a mistress to the King the Queen called brother, the one whose bed he warmed instead of hers. YN cursed her brother in her head for having ''a business'' to attend to today, of all days; even though he assured her of Queen's kind heart, she couldn't shake the feeling of unease as she pushed the door.

The chambers were quiet, with only the slow crackling of wood in the chimney disturbing the peace. ''My Queen, I have brought the children as you requested,'' YN announced, her voice echoing in the vast rooms. She waited for a response, but none came—only the flickering shadows dancing on the walls.

On the small cushion before the fireplace, a figure dressed in regal robes sat with her eyes on the embroidery hoop in her hands. YN takes her time studying the woman as her own children join the pair of royal heirs on the woven carpet. She sits straight, her face somewhere else. The queen has beautiful hair, YN notes to herself ; her silver locks escaped the carefully laid braids, landing right onto her cool, fair face. The woman is younger than her, perhaps by a few summers. The maids around her worked almost in silence—only sometimes it dared to be broken with a small polite exchange concerning the seams or the ornaments on their wooden hoops. There was a distance between her and them—a distance that YN could sense even from where she stood. Despite the quiet camaraderie of the ladies, the queen remained in her own world, a world that YN couldn't quite grasp.

''Lady YN,'' the Queen finally said, never moving her eyes from the dark fabric. ''Would you like to see what I have done so far?''

Something familiar sparkled inside YN's mind like an old tune long forgotten. There was a certain childish quality to her words, reminding her of the way her daughter spoke—something about the innocence and vulnerability that still lingered beneath the regal facade. The Queen spoke to her like they had been great friends like she had seen her before—perhaps in a dream or in another lifetime.

''Of course, Your Majesty.''

She moved closer, careful not to step on the countless toys and pillows scattered around on the floor. Someone, Jaehaerys or Jaehaera, whom she could not tell, squeaked and ran past her, chased by her own daughter, almost knocking YN over in their game. The Queen smiled warmly at the chaos, her eyes sparkling with amusement at them as YN sat before her on the padded chair, intended for legs. She turned the hoop of her embroidery , her delicate fingers working quickly and skillfully.

''I did it for him. A golden dragon, you see? I do not like green; it does not suit him,'' she half-whispered, her almost translucent violet eyes studying each expression on YN's face but never lingering too long.

Him. YN nods, her heart aching with understanding. She knows. Suddenly, the world feels like it is burning—or, perhaps, it is just the growing fire—and an acquainted feeling of guilt and shame travels to her throat. She swallows hard, trying to drown the discomfort in her saliva—a whore, a liar, a thief. Here, in the presence of something so fleeting, so beautiful, and so delicate, she feels the weight of her sins pressing down on her chest, threatening to consume her whole.

The colourful eyes of the Queen seemed to understand her thoughts; she smiled. ''You have a beautiful necklace.''

YN's involuntary hand reaches for the necklace hanging around her neck, feeling the weight of it in her palm. The gold sun sits there proudly, having escaped the comfort of her dress in a moment she has missed. It feels like a cruel joke and, if she will, a reminder of the audacity she possessed to steal from a queen. She felt bare for the first time in years, like a child caught by his mother in some small affair. ''Thank you, your Grace," she whispers, her voice barely audible over the crackling of the flames.

''He likes you, my brother. He has a very strange way of showing it; you are the first person he's allowed to get this close to. The first to keep for so long, too.'' Queen Helaena pauses, her eyes softening slightly as she looks at the children before her. "They love having someone to play, you know? Always waiting for a new friend to join them in their games.'' As the firelight dances across her face, Queen Helaena's smile is bittersweet. "I am afraid I do not know what to do with them. ''

YN nods in understanding, her head turning to watch the flock of laughing children too. ''I was thirteen when I had my first. From the moment he left my womb, he screamed and cried, never finding solace in my arms. I was his mother, the person who was supposed to provide comfort, yet I could just cry with him. I did not feel the mystical tenderness the ladies told me about—I felt lost. Hollow. I thought I was missing some piece of myself that would make me love him the way I was supposed to. But he grew, and I did with him—then I realised that I had a lot of people to care for me, but he only had me. There is no ''right'' love—only the love we are capable of giving , and that was enough for him.''

The woman kept quiet, her eyes moving on the stone floor. YN wondered if her silence was a hint of disapproval or if she was simply lost in her thoughts once again. After a moment, Queen Heleana finally spoke, her voice lingering through the chambers. "Would you like to join us in the garden on the morrow? It would be a great change of scenery."

YN smiled. The relief washed over her—it didn't feel real. The same eyes, hair, and face she saw hundreds of times are once again in front of her, only changing slightly to more feminine features. The Queen does look like her brother-husband, and now YN can't help but feel a sense of comfort in her appearance. ''I would be honoured to, Your Majesty."

The days changed each other quickly; her children grew, and the court lived, growing and changing before her eyes. There was something in the air; she could feel it—an alter after Prince Aemond brought news of the passing of a Valaryon bastard. YN remembers the night—the king has drunk himself half-dead, pacing and muttering about war—the weight of the crown seemed heavier on his head that night. She knows he wishes she did not hear it, laughing at all of her worried questions on the next eve. Still, the war worried her; it brought the worst upon its coming—famine, illness, and terror. She did not fear death—the Stranger was a familiar presence in her life—but the thought of her children suffering haunted her dreams.

YN looks at the girl in her wooden bed, sleeping as peacefully as a child should. Peter sits near, on the stool beside her, his eyes shining with excitement more than fear as he listens to the reading—no matter how smart her son is, he is still too young to fully grasp the doom that warfare will bring to their doorstep; for him, the tales of glorious battles are still alive and true. As YN finishes yet another story about the conquest of three dragon warriors, the comforting silence settles in their bedchamber. Soon, the sun will fully hide behind the darkened clouds of the horizon, and the night will cast its shadows over the land.

''Are you the king's mistress?'' Peter asks, his voice barely above a whisper. The words that leave his lips are not his own. YN's heart shrinks at the sound of them—the whispering faces of the court's gossip swirling in her mind.

There it was—the question she hoped would resolve itself on its own but knew would come anyhow. It's hard, YN realises, to admit such a simple truth to the pair of wide-open eyes looking up at her as she closes the book. Did she not tell it herself after each time she spent the night in the king's chambers? '' I and King Aegon are,'' she takes a breath in. What were they? Lovers? Such a foolish, shameful thought. ''dear friends. We converse and dine together, and he takes great pleasure in hearing me play.''

She does not want to lie to her sweet boy; she knows he is perceptive and will see through any falsehood. But the weight is heavy; she will not let it crush his still boyish shoulders. Deep down, YN fears the day her son will realise the truth. Will he still wish to know her name then? He looks like a small sparrow bird, YN thinks to herself, in his brown vest and ruffled collar of the shirt —so small yet so curious. He tilts his head just like the finch would as if trying to grasp her words and find something between them. ''Do you love him?''

A sigh escapes her lips before she can think of a better answer. ''Well, let's see,'' she pauses. ''I love you, and I love little Meg, and I love your uncle Leon. I also love our beautiful rooms, my dresses, and the nice pies we get to have for supper. And all of that we have because King Aegon is good and just and values our house as one of his loyal subjects. So, in a way, yes, I do love him for that.''

Lies. Disgraceful, unworthy of a lady, a mother she is. Does she truly feel nothing when his lips caress every inch of her very being, his hands touching her soul akin to a ghost? Does she not wish the warmth of his body never had to part from her heart, staying on her neck instead, trapped in the warm, gold sun on her skin? Did she not offer him what was left of her time and time again ? Did she not think of him all the time? Was she not terrified of loving him, and did she not love him?

''I do not want you to marry him.'' Peter is determined. His hands grow fists, the slight childish jealousy painting his face. He could not know, and yet he felt it; he was her son, her blood, after all.

''Then I shall not. I will be here, helping you as you grow into a strong, handsome Lord, and then I will eat only cake and wear pretty dresses for the rest of my days. You will protect me and your sister, just like your father did before he passed, and I will be your scorny lady-mother for the time being . ''

She would. YN wished he would see it, but he was still too young, too naive, to understand the sacrifices she dedicates for him and his sister only, the chains she traps in her heart every day just for them to have a happier life. The sacrifices he did not ask for, YN reminds herself . Sacrifices she chose willingly.

Peter nods, his eyes changing back into childish, sparkling innocence, leaving the stone-cold stare and anger hanging only in his mother's memory. "That sounds perfect, my lady-mother," he says with a grin. "I will protect you and my sister with all my might, just like my father did."

''Good,'' YN smiles, planting a kiss on her son's forehead. "Your father would be proud of the man you are becoming.''

He would not, but Peter does not need to know it. Maybe he will grow up to be nothing like him, and maybe the gods will be kind enough to let her see it.

The Queen's chambers are loud as the night approaches; children, royal or not, never seemed to tyre and instead wished to play all into the night. Even the tireless maid, exhausted of their incessant energy, now quietly sat in the corner, undoubtedly anxious not to be discovered for at least a handful of moments. Tragically for her, YN did not possess this kind of power; her head seemed to soon crack into a few pieces from the noise and shuffles, her limbs burning for rest and quiet. She was tired of reading; the book, long forgotten, was shyly lying at the edge of the wooden table, covered in rich gold ornaments.

''Do you feel unwell?'' The soft voice of Queen Helaena is heard nearby. The fair face turns into a concerned expression—the Targaryen queen had always been perceptive .

YN shakes her head in a weak attempt to wave any worries away. ''Just a little tired from the long day,'' she murmurs, forcing a small smile.

''Perhaps you should rest. I will send a maid to draw you a bath and prepare your chambers for the night.'' The woman's graceful hand reaches out to gently touch YN's shoulder. ''The children can stay; they will be in good hands with the nursemaid, and then they shall return to your chambers in the morning.''

YN feels something creep in her stomach but shakes it off. Perhaps she should not have eaten that pie after all. ''Thank you, your grace,'' she says, mustering a grateful smile. She stands up to leave, feeling the weight of the day's events finally catch up to her before the Queen's voice is heard again.

''The cooter, a mother to three kings,'' she mumbles, her words causing YN to pause and turn back.

''Your grace?" It was not the first time The Queen lost herself in her thoughts; sometimes, she would whisper nonsense as they conversed—it was worrying, sure, but YN had learned to ignore it. Queen Helaena was a sweet, kind woman, but her mind was often clouded by the burdens of her crown. YN wished that one day the Queen would find peace and clarity in her own thoughts; she prayed for it, too.

''The cooter,'' the Queen gazed in her direction, directing attention to the embroidery on YN's dress.

''Yes, it is a cooter; it is a sigil of my house, your Grace, house Estermont.'' YN smiled gently, hoping to distract the Queen from her confusion. The woman's eyes lit up with recognition as she nodded in understanding, and YN breathed a sigh of relief. She can now rest.

It was not long before the screams in her dreams startled her awake—the dark, obsidian night in the window chilling her feet as she quickly sat up, her heart pounding in her chest. Although the screams never seethed; they became louder, more concerned voices of people in the halls outside her room, calling out curses and cries. YN quickly climbed out of the warm bed and rushed to the door, the cobble floors cooling beneath her bare feet as she opened it to see what was happening.

People running in and out of the long halls—maids and knights, even some noblemen in their sleepwear—seemed not to notice the strange figure of a woman in her nightgown standing in the doorway. ''What has happened?'' she asked the maid nearby before recoiling - the dirty sheets in her hands were coloured crimson.

The boy is dead, a voice told her . The boy in the royal chambers.

''Let me through,'' she demanded, pushing past the maid and rushing towards the rooms of Queen Helaena. The rooms she left her children in. She did not care; if the murderer was still in those walls, she would strangle him herself; her children, young, innocent children she left in the care of their nurse, were still there. Were still alive in her head.

The walk from her chambers to the royal ones wasn't too long; she would've walked a thousand more stairs if it was needed. The door to the chambers is wide open; splashes of blood lead inside, pooling before the opening, resembling a twisted, sick lake of horror. ''Meg? Peter?'' No response came, only eerie silence. Panic began to rise in her chest as she stepped over the threshold, her heart pounding in her ears. The screaming rings in her ears suddenly; she does not recognise her own voice as it echoes off the stone walls.

Small, lifeless limbs stare at her almost in accusation, the redness of his open neck wound stark against the pale skin —the body of young Prince Jaehaerys lays in his cradle like it often would, lacking only the silver crown of his head. The room was a scene of unfathomable horror, with blood splattered across the walls and the once innocent nursery now a monstrous sight. The scent of death surrounded her like a bloodied blanket, choking the breath in her throat and sending her head spinning.

She did not feel the male hands clutching her shoulders, pulling her away. The blue and green cloth under her feet quickly moved, the voice of her brother whispering something in her deaf shocked ears.

''Leon, children, my children,'' she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper as tears streamed down her face. The realisation of what had happened in that room hit her right in the stomach, leaving a wretched kno of guts and despair. She tries to fight back, to shout over the chaos, or to push him away; she always does. It makes him just angrier, and harsher, and he tightens the grip, pushing her right into the open door of what appears to be his chambers.

''Everyone stays in their rooms until stated otherwise by the king's orders,'' he hisses, finally letting go of her.

The action is so sudden that she falls forward, hitting her nose as she slides down the stone wall. There's blood everywhere; it's mixed with tears, soaking into her hair and dripping down from her dress. Her brothers's plan worked; YN had no energy to shout anymore. Her anger is now swallowing down her dried throat. She opens and closes it like a fish out of the sea, trying to get air into her lungs—all that is left for her to watch as the wooden door snaps against its frame and the lock clicks, chaining her to the cold, dark room.

YN does not know how much time has passed or if it has passed at all ; the dark, obsidian night sky is now coloured in pinks, oranges, and purples, resembling her usual gowns more than the bright blue of the day. The silence is deafening, broken only by the distant chirping of birds and the rustling of leaves in the gentle breeze; she does not care for it. The only sound in her mind is a constant prayer, although, in her previous life, not many could accuse her of being devout. Now, YN finds herself clinging to any semblance of hope, no matter how faint, no matter where it comes from.

It's all her fault, she thinks. It is as clear as a day—the sins on her shoulders were so heavy that even Gods could not bear them anymore. She should've stayed there, in the northern castle of her lord husband, weeping over his grave like any proper widow would. Instead, she has indulged in a life of sin with violet eyes and silver locks, finding solace in the arms of another man. She let her body decide, choosing a life of bodily pleasure over honour and duty. The husband, no matter how hard it was for her to love him, was the only man who had a right to touch her soul. Touch her at all.

The door opened with a loud bang, revealing her lord husband in all his might. He was wearing those weird clothes again—something torn and dirty. It looked like he robbed some beggars near the castle before coming in, and he smelled the same.

''Come on!'' he exclaims, opening his arms as if for a hug. ''Don't be shy; we are married, remember?''

There is not much she can say; the easiest way out is to let him do what he wants. So, YN bites her cheek when his sloppy kisses travel down her neck and keeps her mouth shut when he takes off her nightgown. It's awful, almost humiliating, to hear his breath quicken. To feel him inside. She smiles when it's finally over, and he plants the last, tired kiss on her head before getting under the covers. She knows better than to disturb her husband's sleep; instead, she cries silently, mindful of staining his pillow with tears.

YN's knees are aching even through the fabric of her gown, but it does not matter. Through pain, she could feel her remorse. Feel like she was being punished for her own desires. Feel like she was clean again.

A soft knocking is heard, and YN has to snap out of her trance, gathering the tears building in her eyes with a cloth. It's a servant, one of the many she sees running down the halls this morning. ''You are awaited before the Council, milady.''

''Thank you,'' YN replies, her voice barely above a whisper. She will see to the punishment the gods have chosen for her, no matter how harsh it is. Her only wish is for her children, who are innocent in all of this, to be spared from any consequences of her actions. She straightens her posture and nods. ''Let us go then.''

The loud arguing in the rooms of Small Council seemed to fade as she appeared in the doorway, all eyes turning to her as she entered. The sun was already up, she noticed, as the soft streaks of warmth hit the room through the open windows, casting a golden hue over the polished table where the council members sat. She caught strange looks from a few, and frankly, she thought they were right. YN looked like a mad woman, her hair quickly plated and her dress hurriedly laced, rushing around a castle that seemed to freeze at the news of a child's passing.

''Mother,'' the loud cry of her son's voice echoed, snapping YN back to reality. He came running to her, his face streaked with tears and his eyes red from crying, his hands clutching her waist as he buried his face in her stomach. YN stood there, wrapping her arms around him tightly, feeling the empty space where his right hand should have been. ''I am so sorry; I tried to save him, but the knife, they did; they cut it off, Mother, '' he sobbed.

YN's heart shattered into a million pieces as she held her son close. Her darling, brave boy lost a part of himself, but he was alive. Better a sparrow, living or dead, than no birdsong at all. Here, in her arms. ''It is okay; all is well; you did so well. Where is your sister?''

''She is safe; I hid her in the closet. She was so scared,'' he whispered, his voice trembling.

''Your daughter is with maids now, Lady YN.'' The voice of Sir Criston Cole echoed through the room.

YN's eyes quickly found the green dress she put on her daughter herself; she sat on the hip of some scared maid, silent. She thanked the gods; she thanked anyone and everyone, in the sky or beneath the ground, who had decided to let her children live. Occupied with her thoughts, YN does not hear the questions flying at her right away; yet, the male voice of the swordsman still cuts through the cloudiness of her mind, reaching her ears.

''We would like to ask you a few questions about what happened that night. Can you tell us why you were not in the Queen's chambers with your children?''

There is something seething inside her as her son wails and clutches her waist with his now one hand and her daughter's frozen eyes as she stares through her mother. YN stood there, before the able knights of the castle, in nothing but her nightgown, covered in her son's blood and her own tears, feeling the weight of their accusatory gazes upon her. The gods forgave her and proved her innocent, but the whispers of suspicion still lingered in the air, staining her with their accusations. Anger—that was what boiled inside her—a fiery rage that threatened to consume her from within. ''What are you implying?''

''It is suspicious, don't you think, Lady YN, for you to be the only one absent when the tragedy occurred?''

YN laughed. It did not sound like a laugh of joy but rather a bitter, cynical sound that echoed through the great hall. Perhaps that was the mark of nerves she has wasted today, perhaps the showing of her despair—the maddening, heavy feeling of despair clawing at her insides. The child was dead; others were harmed—the cold, the almost translucent figure of the young prince covered in unfathomable amounts of his own blood lingered in her mind. "How dare you, the Head of the King's Guard, be the one telling me of doubts when it was my son, my blood, that protected Prince Jaehaerys? Tell me, Ser Criston, where were you when my boy lost his hand defending the royal family?''

Ser Criston's expression darkened at the accusation; his jaw clenched tightly. "I was carrying out my duty elsewhere, as I always have," he replied evenly, his gaze wavering in the face of her anger. ''And for those who question my loyalty, there is a place in the dungeons reserved for traitors and cowards. Guards, seize Lady YN and bring her to the cells for questioning immediately."

As his words echoed through the hall, the even louder cries of her son were drowned out by the commotion as the guards moved to apprehend her. Although she feels nothing now, the contrast of cold poisoning her body where the boiling anger was just a moment before terrifying and overwhelming. YN felt numb and drained of any emotion as her son hugged her closer, despite the best efforts of the man around them. There will be bruises, she thought in a haze. When did he get so strong?

''Leave her be.'' A voice boomed from the back of the room.

King Aegon sat there on the designated stool, adorned with heads of dragons. Now, he did not look regal; he seemed sick, his violet eyes bloodshot and silver locks hanging limply around his face. The sea-sick green coloured his face as he struggled to maintain his composure. Just for a second, their eyes met, a silent understanding slipping between them. There was something wrong with him. There was something wrong with him that was also wrong with her.

''Thank you, my king,'' she whispered, her voice barely audible. The man's expression softened slightly, with a flicker of recognition in his eyes, before he turned away, dismissing the guards. They were free to go; she was free to go, with her alive and well children, who still could scream and cry. He will stay; he had to stay with his now-forever boy.

The water hit the pier with gentle splashes, and the droplets of salt jumped on the stone legs of the dock before rejoining the vast sea. The warm shadows of the setting sun coloured the liquids in pricey gemstones: sapphire and rubies, quarts, and turquoise glistened before her eyes. There was something magical in the way the light danced, ethereal and airy, as it circled the pier—no one disturbed the peace of the tranquil sea; nobody knew the secrets it had stored since its birth.

The water was warm enough—just a little more, and the beach would embrace many swimmers in its warm hug. But, for now, she only watched as the waves gently lapped against her feet, the soothing rhythm of the sea reminding her she was still here, in her body. YN closes her eyes. It would be an easy fix— to just jump , to let the water envelop her completely, to become one with the sea. No one would know how she went, not until the same waves returned her body to the shore somewhere far from this castle. Or would the water leave her for itself, storing the secrets of her death deep beneath the sand as her soul left this world behind? YN had no chance of knowing, but the thought of disappearing into the ocean's embrace was strangely comforting. Just her and the place she called home.

The sound of crashing waves enveloped her head; the wind was getting stronger, ruffling the hem of her ivory gown as she sat at the edge of the cliff, the last rays of sun hitting her face like a gentle caress. The salty air inside her lungs reminded her of Estermont . The small island, isolated and insignificant on the grand map. Perhaps, if she were lucky, her remains would be buried there, under some nameless mountain range, with only a small stone marker to indicate her existence.

There are slow, almost silent steps approaching her from behind; she does not turn around. If it was death, whoever the Stranger took the form of, it was welcome here. With her children asleep in her brother's chambers, a dozen guards watching over them, she was at peace. The gush of wind through her hair felt like a final embrace, reeking of salt and blood. What an unusual scent—almost like the sea at low tide mixed with the metallic tang of iron. Almost too real to be just in her head.

''I killed him,'' the hoarse voice announced behind her, the black cloak brushing against her arm. The cloak she knew belonged elsewhere. She turned slowly, her hand plating itself on the warm deck, feeling the small stones beneath her fingers.

The light illuminated his face; the usually calm violet eyes now clouded with a darkness she had never seen before. The golden dragon head sitting at his chest glinted beneath the rays just as the waves did a moment before, the still-hot blood dripping from his hands onto the wooden planks. Strangely, the black fabric now was almost green from the crimson stains—Helaena was right. It did not suit him.

''I smashed his skull open with a single blow,'' he said, his voice chillingly calm. ''I felt nothing as he lay there, dying at my feet. I thought it would feel good to finally have revenge . It didn't.''

The sunset painted over the walls of Red Keep, the oranges and reds of dying stars reflecting in the short hair of the man in front of her. He looked like he was burning, set on fire right where the crown should have been, burning down his neck and slumping shoulders. His castle, his kingdom, was all slowly on fire, despite the cool evening breeze that swept from the sea behind her. She can't get him to leave, she realises. The flames fluttered around him, everywhere except his eyes—it was his home, and it combusted. YN still had time to jump into the safety of the water, drown her sorrows, and escape the unavoidable ruin that awaited them both. The saltiness from the waves travelled onto her cheeks, the shallow streams hitting her lips. She can't leave without him.

''Sit with me,'' she muttered, reaching out her hand towards him. It was empty of any rings or jewellery; it was bare, like a virgin sheet on a freshly made bed. She was free—free from the weight of ties and obligations that had bound her for so long. Just her, without anything that would remind her of the past.

''I will stain your hand with blood,'' Aegon mused, his eyes dark with the weight of his own burdens. I will stain you with my sins, he wanted to say, but the words caught in his throat.

''Stain them. I do not care.''

So the veined hand reached out, the warmth of his touch sending shivers down her spine. She did not realise how cold she was until he enveloped her in his embrace, his warmth seeping into her bones. She felt clean for the first time in years, despite the stains on her dress, as the man collapsed in her embrace, his tears mixing with her own. ''Do you think we can ever truly be free from our sins?'' she whispered, feeling a sense of peace wash over her.

The man's embrace tightened, his voice steady despite the tremble in his breath as he replied. ''This love was never a sin; it could not be. Not when I love you with all that I am."

Aegon looks back at her, and it is not a tragedy.

This is the closest to heaven they will ever be.

[drowning-rat37]

☆ Mia/pvr9ing harm reduction and after care ☆

☆ps.- this is not tips on “how to do it better”, this is tips on how to not hurt your body too much while doing it. I am in no way suggesting anyone starts doing it, i am just saying if you are already doing it, try to stay safe❤️❤️❤️

☆anti-acids: if you’re planning to pvr9e, take a couple before you eat, it’ll reduce the acidity of your stomach acid, which in turn reduces the level of enamel loss and tooth decay as well as reducing the trauma on your oesophagus from the acid

☆short nails: if you use your fingers, keep your nails short to prevent scratching/cvtting your throat. Having short nails is also more hygienic as (even if you keep your nails clean) the underside of your nails can carry a lot of bacteria, (this is mainly found in children but has been known in adults) can carry types of worms under the nails. If you have long nails or false nails i recommend going on the utensil route

☆hand sanitizers or antibacterial soap: if you’re adamant that you don’t want to cut your nails short, clean under your nails thoroughly with hand sanitizer and wash ALL OF YOUR HANDS with antibacterial soap to avoid getting ill. Another thing to address about getting ill: you may think “if i get ill/sick then I won’t eat as much” or “i’ll be throwing up so no need for pvr9ing” in theory, great. In reality, it feels awful. I used to think that sort of way and then ever time i got ill i would feel like actual death, just stay clean and hygienic please🙏🙏🙏

☆water: after pvr9ing your body gets extremely dehydrated, make sure to drink enough water, also I recommend alkali water to reduce acid reflux. Take small sips every couple of minutes as to not make yourself feel more nauseous than you probably already are!!!

☆electrolytes: if possible, get yourself a drink with electrolytes or you can also get sachets that are sugar free and put that in water. In another post (i think i tagged it as an update post to a different post i have put a picture of some electrolyte water i bought, i really like that brand)

☆warnings: bl00d, feeling like you’re about to pass out, legs shaking, hands shaking. If you see any of those signs, take a break or stop all together, I’ll get into each signs in detail in a second.

☆utensils: if you’re not using your fingers, keep your utensils clean, weather its a toothbrush or cutlery or something different. Also please use something you know you can easily hold onto to prevent choking on it or letting go of it. If you’re using cutlery, find plastic cutlery, im not talking about the cheap flimsy ones, im talking about the thick type you can get from ikea or other places, make sure it’s rounded in the side you are putting in your mouth, again to not cause trauma to your throat. I can not stress this enough: use👏 something 👏 you👏 can👏 easily 👏 hold👏 on👏 to

☆tools: this is a follow up from the utensil. Please try not to use medication or other methods to induce vomiting, it is extremely dangerous. I have seen a lot of people (specifically on a certain clock app) talking about putting large amounts of salt in water and drinking it to induce vomiting, i can not stress this enough DO NOT DO THAT, it is so incredibly dangerous and by far the most unpleasant way to pvr9e. This is coming from someone who has tried almost ever way, including the salt method. It can cause long term health issues to consume that much salt even if you vomit it back up, there will still be a large amount left in your system which can lead to high blood pressure (which if you are pvr9ing often may already have) and generally if you are going to that extent to pvr9e, take a break from doing it, even if it is hard!!!!

☆food/chewing: make sure that what you’re eating before you pvr9e you chew really well, if you swallow large chunks, it will be hard to get up and you have a chance of choking and it will not be good and is very scary. Bread is especially hard to get up. Some foods should definitely be avoided, such as hard crunchy foods like tortilla chips/crisps, they are sharp once broken and in the time it takes for you to eat, then pvr9e, your body will not have broken it down enough and it WILL hurt coming back up. Try to stick to soft or quickly digest-able foods to avoid pain and trauma to the throat.

☆follow on to the warning signs ☆

☆Bl00d: if you pvr9e bl00d, genuinely stop, i know you might not want to but to avoid damage, stop. If it is anything above a few drops, I greatly suggest seeking medical attention asap. Give yourself a week or two to recover from that, it will be hard but it’s whats best for harm reduction!!!!(this is a very scary thing to experience, the first time it happened i was terrified however as you can see, i am alive, i didnt die although that still doesn’t mean you should just ignore it)

☆feeling like you’re about to pass out/ hands and legs shaking: believe me, you do not want to be found on the floor after pvr9ing. If you’re shaking, take a break, weather its 10 minutes or a couple days, take a break. If you feel shaky, that is a sign you are going to pass out, again, take a break. Sit down in a place you know you won’t hurt yourself if you do pass out, have a drink and rest for a moment!!! I know you don’t want to hear the “listen to your body bull shit” but in cases like this it is vital if you are genuinely trying to avoid permanent damage or injuries of any kind!

☆Thank you for reading, stay safe. My dm’s are open if you need help or advice. If you need to reach out to your local helpline don’t hesitate, you’re weak for reaching out for help!!! ☆

@mamabearwonders

[the-torchwood-archive]

Torchwood Timeline (May 2024)

This is my canon timeline for the Torchwood TV stories, novels, and audio productions. It's fairly similar to the wiki timeline with a few small tweaks. It's also completely spoiler free, unlike the wiki timeline.

Some entries have firm dates, some have months, some have general decades, so I've tried my hardest to fit them into where I feel they fit. If anyone spots anything that I've missed or sees any glaring problems let me know and I'll try to suss it out. New stories will be added as they are released.

1879:

TV: Tooth And Claw

1885:

Torchwood Cardiff is founded

December 24th 1894:

Audio: The Empire Man

1897:

Audio: Infidel Places

1898:

Audio: Save Our Souls

December 24th 1898:

Audio: The Crown

1899:

Scenes from TV: Fragments

Jack joins Torchwood

May 17th 1899

Audio: The Victorian Age

1908:

Torchwood Glasgow is founded

1915

Audio: What Have I Done

Post TV: COE Day 5 in Jack’s timeline

1940s:

Audio: Curios

Audio: The Dying Room

1953

Norton Folgate projects himself to 2016 for Audio: Ghost Mission

1955:

Norton Folgate is projected to 2009 for Audio: Outbreak

1956-1959:

Audio: Goodbye Piccadilly

Audio: Madam, I’m

Audio: Parasite

Audio: Ashenden

Audio: The Unbegotten

Audio: The Black Knight

1965:

Scenes from TV: Children Of Earth Day Four

First contact with the 456

1970s:

Audio: The Dollhouse

1973:

Audio: Double

Torchwood Los Angeles severs all ties

1978:

Audio: Dead Plates

1980:

Scenes from Prose: Trace Memory

Toshiko’s scenes

16th-22nd August 1987:

Past scenes from Audio: Disco

1999:

Alex Hopkins kills his team and Jack Harkness becomes head of Torchwood Cardiff

2000-2004:

Audio: Piece Of Mind

Ben Brown hired by Jack Harkness

Suzie Costello hired by Jack Harkness

Ben Brown deceased

2001-2004:

Scenes from Prose: Trace Memory

Owen’s scenes

2004:

Scenes from TV: Fragments

Toshiko’s scenes

Late 2004:

Audio: Blind Summit

Ianto returns to Wales

Audio: Suckers

February 2005:

Ianto is hired by Torchwood London as Junior Researcher

Scenes from Prose: Trace Memory

Ianto’s scenes

26th March 2005:

Audio: One Rule

Ianto is working as Yvonne’s PA

2005:

Audio: The Last Love Song Of Suzie Costello

Audio: Tube Strike

Audio: New Girl

Audio: Through The Ruins

Audio: Uprising

Audio: My Guest Tonight

Audio: Lola

Audio: Less Majesty

Audio: The Law Machines

Audio: 9 To 5

Sebastian Vaughn hired at Torchwood Three

Audio: The Vigil

Late 2005:

Scenes from TV: Fragments

Owen’s scenes

March 2006:

Owen Harper is recruited into Torchwood Cardiff

TV: Aliens Of London

April-September 2006:

Audio: Sync

September 2006:

TV: Boom Town

Jack confines the team to the Hub

September-December 2006:

Audio: Wednesdays For Beginners

Audio: Crush

Audio: Retirement Plan

29th November 2006:

Audio: Moving Target

January-Feburary 2007:

Audio: Locker 15

Audio: Dinner For Yvonne

Present day scenes from Audio: Disco

Audio: By Royal Appointment

Audio: Nerves

Audio: The Rockery

February-March 2007:

TV: Doomsday

TV: Army Of Ghosts

Scenes from TV: Fragments

Ianto joins Torchwood Cardiff

Audio: War Chest

February 2007-September 2009:

Audio: Coffee

Scenes take place between TV: Army Of Ghosts and TV: Children Of Earth Day Five

August-November 2007:

TV: Everything Changes

TV: Day One

TV: Ghost Machine

Prose: Another Life

Prose: Slow Decay

TV: Cyberwoman

Audio: Broken

Scenes take place between TV: Cyberwoman and TV: They Keep Killing Suzie

TV: Small Worlds

TV: Countrycide

Audio: The Great Sontaran War

TV: Greeks Baring Gifts

Audio: Restricted Items Archive Entires 031-049

Audio: Instant Karma

Audio: Ex Machina

Audio: Drive

November 2007:

TV: They Keep Killing Suzie

November-December 2007:

TV: Random Shoes

Audio: The Last Beacon

Audio: The Conspiracy

Audio: Fall To Earth

Audio: Uncanny Valley

Early events of Audio: The Office Of Never Was

18th-26th December 2007

TV: Out Of Time

Audio: The Grey Mare

December 2007-Janurary 2008:

Audio: SUV

Audio: Missing Molly

TV: Combat

Audio: Hidden

TV: Captain Jack Harkness

TV: End Of Days

January-May 2008:

Audio: Zone 10

Audio: Lease Of Life

February 2008:

Prose: Kaleidoscope

14th February 2008:

Audio: Dinner And A Show

February-August 2008:

Audio: Sigil

May 2008:

Torchwood goes to Tibet

Jack returns to Cardiff after TYTNW

TV: Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang

TV: Sleeper

Audio: Serenity

20th June 2008:

TV: To The Last Man

June-July 2008:

Prose: Something In The Water

Audio: Everyone Says Hello

Prose: Trace Memory

TV: Meat

29th June 2008:

Audio: The Lincolnshire Poacher

July-August 2008:

Audio: torchwood_cascade_CDRIP.tor

Audio The Office Of Never Was

Audio: In The Shaodws

TV: Adam

Audio: Tropical Beach Sounds And Other Relaxing Seascapes #4

August 2008:

Prose: The Twilight Streets

August-October 2008:

TV: Reset

TV: Dead Man Walking

TV: A Day In The Death

August-December 2008:

Audio: Corpse Day

Audio: The Hope

Audio: The Three Monkeys

Audio: Gooseberry

31st October 2008:

Prose: Pack Animals

November-December 2008:

TV: Something Borrowed

Prose: Skypoint

TV: From Out Of The Rain

TV: Adrift

Audio: Believe

TV: Fragments

TV: Exit Wounds

Audio: Expectant

Prose: Into The Silence

Audio: Lost Souls

January-February 2009:

Prose: Bay Of The Dead

Prose: The House That Jack Built

Prose: Almost Perfect

Audio: Department X

February 2009:

Audio: Ghost Train

May-September 2009:

Audio: Dissected

Audio: Rhys And Ianto’s Excellent Barbeque

TV: The Stolen Earth

TV: Journey’s End

Audio: The Sin Eaters

Prose: The Wrong Hands

Prose: Virus

Audio: Asylum

Audio: Golden Age

Prose: Consequences

Audio: The Dead Line

Prose: Risk Assessment

Prose: The Undertaker’s Gift

Audio: The Devil And Miss Carew

Audio: Submission

Audio: Outbreak

September 2009:

TV: Children Of Earth Day One

TV: Children Of Earth Day Two

TV: Children Of Earth Day Three

TV: Children Of Earth Day Four

TV: Children Of Earth Day Five

Late 2009:

Prose: Long Time Dead

March 2010:

Audio: House Of The Dead

Events of TV: The End Of Time and Audio: One Enchanted Evening in Jack’s timeline

March-June 2010:

Prose: First Born

June 2010:

Prose: The Men Who Sold The World

October 2010:

Audio: Poppet

18th-21st March 2011:

TV: The New World

22nd March 2011:

TV: Rendition

March-July 2011:

TV: Dead Of Night

TV: Escape To LA

TV: Categories Of Life

TV: The Middle Men

TV: Immortal Sins

TV: End Of The Road

September 2011:

TV: The Gathering

TV: The Blood Line

September-December 2011:

Audio: Army of One

Audio: Fallout

Audio: Red Skies

Audio: Mr Invincible

2012:

Prose: Exodus Code

Audio: Cadoc Point

November-December 2012:

Audio: Dog Hop

Late 2016

Audio: Forgotten Lives

Audio: Visiting Hours

Audio: More Than This

Audio: Ghost Mission

Audio: Made You Look

January-June 2017:

Mr Colchester joins a rebuilt Torchwood

Audio: We Always Get Out Alive

Audio: Night Of The Fendahl

Audio: Smashed

Ng joins Torchwood after this point

Audio: Driving Miss Wells

Audio: Sonny

Audio: Changes Everything

Audio: Aliens & Sex & Chips & Gravy

Audio: Oor

Audio: Superiority Complex

Audio: Love Rat

Audio: A Kill To A View

June 2017-October 2018:

Audio: Zero Hour

Audio: The Empty Hand

Audio: Poker Face

Audio: Tagged

Audio: Escape Room

Audio: Herald Of The Dawn

Audio: Future Pain

2017-2018:

Audio: The Man Who Destroyed Torchwood

Takes place between TV: Superiority Complex and TV: Herald Of The Dawn

October 2018:

Audio: Cardiff Unknown – October 2018

October-December 2018:

Audio: See No Evil

Audio: Night Watch

Audio: Flight 405

Audio: Hostile Environment

Audio: The Green Life

Audio: Sargasso

Audio: Another Man’s Shoes

Audio: Eye Of The Storm

January-March 2019:

Audio: A Mother’s Son

March-August 2019:

Audio: Scrapejane

Audio: Day Zero

Audio: Thoughts And Prayers

Audio: Red Base

Audio: Aliens Next Door

Audio: Colin Alone

August 2019:

Audio: Misty Eyes

2021:

Audio: Goodbye Piccadilly, Audio: Ashenden, and Audio: The Unbegotten for Andy’s POV

Early 2022:

Audio: The Red List

2022:

Audio: Moderation

Audio: Propaganda

Audio: At Her Majesty’s Pleasure

Audio: Cuckoo

Audio: Pariahs

Audio: How I Conquered The World

Audio: The Five People You Kill In Middlesborough

Audio: A Postcard From Mr Colchester

Audio: Death In Venice

February 2023:

Audio: Doomscroll

2023:

Audio: Heistland

Audio: The Apocalypse Starts At 6PM

Audio: Thirst Trap

Audio: Another Postcard From Mr Colchester

Audio: Sabotage

Amendments/Additions:

Feb 2024: Moved Audio: The Vigil from 2007 to 2005

April 2024: Added Audio:Another Postcard From Mr Colchester and Audio: Sabotage to 2023

April 2024: Added Audio: Tube Strike to early 2005

April 2024: Added Audio: Missing Molly to early 2008

May 2024: Moved Audio: Wednesdays For Beginners, Audio: Crush, Audio: Retirement Plan from 2007 to 2006

May 2024: Added Audio: Dinner For Yvonne, Audio: By Royal Appointment and Audio: Nerves to January-February 2007

May 2024: Added Audio: Disco to August 1978 and January-February 2007

May 2024: Moved Audio: Hidden from November-December 2007 to December 2007-Janurary 2008:

[sallysavestheday]

Half-elven Week Drabbles #4

For @halfelvenweek, have 100 words of Amon Ereb horror-show.

********

Elrond’s first tooth falls out in a crust of bread, their second week in Amon Ereb. Maglor is horrified at his swift decay. He calls for the healer; digs frantically through the mildewed library for lore on the ailments of mortal children; weeps quietly over his failure in care. Maedhros, drunk and sarcastic, only grins. “Their mother was a bird, was she not? They moult, I believe. Will it be hair or fingers next, do you think?” At Elrond’s frightened gasp, he throws back his head and barks a feral laugh. His own battered teeth gap black against his gums.

[magz]

"As Good as Dental Sealants – Scientists Discover Inexpensive Liquid That Prevents Tooth Decay"

Article Date: March 6, 2024.

Highlights:

SDF has emerged as another promising treatment for fighting cavities. Originally approved by the FDA for treating tooth sensitivity, the solution is brushed onto the surface of teeth, killing decay-causing bacteria and remineralizing teeth to prevent further decay.

"A growing body of research shows that SDF—which is quicker to apply and less expensive than sealants—can prevent and arrest cavities, reducing the need for drilling and filling,” said Richard Niederman, DMD, professor of epidemiology & health promotion at NYU College of Dentistry and the study’s senior author.

[...] The study included approximately 4,100 children in New York City elementary schools; more than a quarter of kids had untreated cavities at the start of the study.

[...]

The researchers reported last year in the journal JAMA Network Open that a single treatment of either SDF or sealants prevented 80% of cavities and kept 50% of existing cavities from worsening two years later. The team continued their study for another two years, and in their study published in JAMA Pediatrics, found that SDF and sealants prevented roughly the same number of cavities after children were followed for a total of four years. Moreover, both sealants and SDF reduced the risk of decay at each follow-up visit.

[...]

Embracing SDF for cavity prevention and treatment in schools could keep kids from needing fillings, saving families and the healthcare system money. Yet these programs can only succeed if there are enough health professionals to provide care.

[vanilla-cigarillos]

A History of Vampires

Vampy vampy vampires! I’m not talking about Twilight; today I want to make a post talking about the real cultural significance of vampires in different folk beliefs around the world.

What Is A Vampire?

“...a mythical creature that subsists by feeding on the vital essence (generally in the form of blood) of the living.”

- Good ol’ Wikipedia

When we think of vampires, we picture Dracula in his brooding cloak sucking the life out of others. We see those characteristic fangs, an aversion to garlic, and a fatal vulnerability to sunlight. 

Vampiric creatures have been noted in cultures around the world for generations. 

A History of “Vampires” (Popularized in the West)

Cultures such as the Mesopotamians, Ancient Greeks, and Manipuri have folk tales of entities that are now considered to be precursors to modern-day vampires. Despite such occurrences of vampiric creatures in these ancient civilizations, the folklore for what most consider vampires today comes almost exclusively from early 18-thcentury Southeastern Europe. 

The term “vampire” itself was popularized in Western Europe after reports of mass hysteria during the 18th-century. Said hysteria originated from a pre-existing folk belief in Southeastern and Eastern Europe that in some cases ended in corpses being staked, and some people were even persecuted under the accusation of vampirism.

Early folk beliefs in vampires has typically been summed up to pre-existing ignorance of how the body would decompose after death, with people attempting to explain such decay through the existence of vampires.

The more personable and charismatic version of the vampire, born in fiction, came in 1819 with the publication of The Vampyre by John Polidori. Bram Stoker’s novel Dracula in 1897 would later on provide the basis of the modern vampire legend and be remembered as the most significant vampire novel in literature. However, it is worth noting that Stoker’s novel came after the publication of the 1872 novel Carmilla, published by Irish author Sheridan Le Fanu. 

Folk Beliefs

In Slavic and Chinese folk traditions, any corpse that was jumped over by an animal (especially a dog or cat) was feared to become a “vampire”. There was also believed to be a risk with a body having any wound that wasn’t treated with boiling water.

In Russian folklore, vampires were said to have been witches or people who had rebelled against the Russian Orthodox Church while alive. 

Within Jewish traditions, “alukah” is synonymous with vampires. The creature is said to be a living human being, but can change into a wolf. It also has the ability to fly by releasing its long hair, and would eventually die if not allowed to feed on blood for an extended amount of time. Once dead, a vampire could be prevented from becoming a demon by being buried with its mouth stuffed with soil.

Albanian mythology discusses both the “shtriga” and the “dhampir”. Shtriga is a vampiric witch that sucks blood from infants while they sleep at night, then turning into a flying insect. Only a shtriga could cure those she drained blood from. A cross made of pig bone could be placed at the entrance of a church on Easter Sunday, which would render any shtriga inside unable to leave. Then, they could be captured and killed. 

The Ashanti people in West Africa have folk tales of the iron-toothed and tree-dwelling “asanbosam” which can take the form of a firefly and hunts for children for their blood.

The Betsileo people of Madagascar have stories of “ramanga”, a vampire who drinks the blood and eats the nail clippings of nobles.

The Mapuche of southern Chile have stories of a bloodsucking snake known as “Peuchen”, with aloe vera being hung backwards behind or near a door to ward off vampiric entities across a variety of South American superstition. 

Aztec mythology has folk tales of the Cihuateteo, which are skeletal-faced spirits of humans who died in childbirth. These entities were said to steal children, and entered into sexual liaisons with the living, which would drive them to insanity.

[gallifreyinstituteforlearning]

Listen I know that the medical/dental divide is one that perhaps spans multiple universes, but here are my questions: Do people on Gallifrey have to brush their teeth or are there more advanced tooth care methods? Do they produce plaque at all? Do they get dental related problems like cavities? Do children lose their baby teeth?

Gallifreyan Dental Care: The Basics

You'd think that a race as advanced as the Time Lords might have entirely bypassed the need for anything as mundane as brushing their teeth, but it's not that simple.

🪥 Do Gallifreyans Need to Brush Their Teeth?

In short: not really, but some will do it anyway. Gallifreyans are lucky enough to have teeth that are incredibly resistant to decay. Their enamel is super dense and can even repair itself, like how skin heals from a cut. So, while most of us have to spend a couple of minutes each day scrubbing away, Gallifreyans can sit back and let their biology do the work.

However, even this system has its limits. While their teeth stay in pretty good shape without the need for brushing, there's no real known mechanism for keeping their breath fresh. So, while you won't catch a Time Lord worrying too much about cavities, they still need to remedy that pungent early morning breath.

🧼 Do They Get Plaque and Cavities?

Gallifreyans are far less likely to experience tooth decay compared to humans. Their teeth are designed to withstand wear and tear, and their enamel's self-repairing nature means plaque buildup isn't much of an issue.

But let's not get too comfortable—Gallifreyans can definitely still have dental issues, and Dentists definitely have a role on Gallifrey. Fillings or crowns will still be needed, and in some cases, extraction is necessary if the damage is beyond repair.

🧒 Do Gallifreyan Childrene Lose Their Baby Teeth?

Yes, childrene who are loomed as physical kids do go through a phase of having baby teeth, just like human kids. However, not all Gallifreyans experience this, because some are loomed as physical adults, skipping the whole baby teeth phase entirely. For those with baby teeth, it's a pretty standard process—those little teeth fall out as they grow, making way for their adult set.

🦷 Gallifreyan Teeth Cleaning Devices

The following is all based on our very limited knowledge of how Gallifreyan showers work, so are more fun than real:

Say goodbye to the mundane and step into the future with Gallifreyan dental technology! Why settle for the ordinary when you can have extraordinary? Introducing the latest in oral care innovation—because your smile deserves the best the universe has to offer.

💡 LuminoMouth Cleanser: The Light of Perfection!: Tired of traditional brushing? Ditch the toothbrush and experience the ultimate in dental hygiene with the LuminoMouth Cleanser! This cutting-edge device harnesses the power of universal cleansing light to deep-clean your teeth like never before. Say hello to perfectly polished teeth, dazzling whiteness, and a breath so fresh that even the Daleks will be impressed.

🌬️ SonicFresh: Vibrate Your Way to a Healthier Smile!:Why waste time brushing when you can vibrate your way to dental perfection? The SonicFresh is not just a cleaning tool—it's a sonic experience. With high-frequency vibrations that gently massage your gums and dislodge pesky particles, this little marvel ensures your teeth are not just clean but also pristine. Perfect for those who demand more from their dental care, SonicFresh turns routine maintenance into a rejuvenating ritual. Your gums will thank you!

🌀 HydroCycler: The Ultimate Oral Spa Treatment!: Transform your daily routine into a luxurious spa experience with the HydroCycler! Combining pulses of refreshing water with invigorating essential oils, this multi-functional device does more than just clean—it revitalises your entire mouth. Feel the soothing rush of hydration as the HydroCycler flushes away the day’s grime, leaving you with a mouth so fresh, you'll feel like you've just stepped out of a waterfall.

🧊 CryoMist Refresher: Cool, Crisp, and Irresistible!: Need a quick refresh? Look no further than the CryoMist Refresher—your portable companion for minty-fresh breath in an instant! With a single spritz of our cooling mist, infused with aromatic compounds, you'll be ready to tackle whatever the universe throws at you. Perfect for on-the-go moments or after a close encounter with a Sontaran, the CryoMist keeps you cool, confident, and fresh. One spray, and you're good to go!

Get yours today and step into the future of oral care—because your smile deserves it!

Related:

📺|🧶👶What is looming and how does it exist alongside natural reproduction?: Overview of looming and its place alongside natural reproduction in Gallifreyan society.

💬|⏰💄Do Time Lords have a beauty industry?: The fashion trends and general attitudes towards clothes.

💬|⏰🏪Do Gallifreyans have grocery stores?: Food and food technology on Gallifrey.

Hope that helped! 😃

Any purple text is educated guesswork or theoretical. More content ... →📫Got a question? | 📚Complete list of Q+A and factoids →😆Jokes |🩻Biology |🗨️Language |🕰️Throwbacks |🤓Facts →🫀Gallifreyan Anatomy and Physiology Guide (pending) →⚕️Gallifreyan Emergency Medicine Guides →📝Source list (WIP) →📜Masterpost If you're finding your happy place in this part of the internet, feel free to buy a coffee to help keep our exhausted human conscious. She works full-time in medicine and is so very tired 😴

[therandomartmaker]

You can’t have your cake and eat it, too.

TW: Graphic Description of a dead body, dehumanisation

Corpse AU/Full Ghost AU

The ghost boy leaned against the frame of the door to the laboratory. How he’d gotten past the anti-ghost security, they’d had no idea, but that was something insignificant, now. Especially in the face of their newest discovery.

There was a corpse, in the shut off portal, rotting and decayed, and familiar.

Dark hair, pale skin, a white, moth bitten shirt with red trim and dark worn jeans, flesh falling off to reveal things they’d never wish to see, not on their precious baby boy. The glint of skeleton, bone, and tooth. The brown of long dried blood, and pink of electrical burns. It’d- no, he’d decayed unnaturally, areas of preserved into pale green-ish tint, other areas as though it’d been years since he’d died, bone whiter as though sun-bleached.

They looked up at the ghost boy; the one that wore a face so very similar to their child. Their son.

It didn’t have a smirk of victory, vindication, resignation- it didn’t have much of an expression on it’s face at all. It didn’t even look sad at the body of a child, one that died at what must’ve been a similar age. It’s lack of empathy proved something to the Fenton parents, they weren’t sure what, but it did.

There was a harsh glow from it, icy blue (inhuman) eyes searching their faces for something.

“Your son opened the portal, no, your son’s death opened the portal. His death is the only reason it opened,” It said. It couldn’t be right, Danny’d never gone down to the lab in years- but his disappearance had happened on the day of the Portal’s first opening. It lined up. It made sense.

“You had two creations, one that’d gotten your love and care, and obsession for years; and the other, of your flesh and blood. You could only have one, and aren’t you happy? You’ve proved your life’s work with the one you kept,” the ghost menace said, and it wasn’t even a taunt. Just as though it was a fact, and maybe. Maybe it was right, they had given up so much time with their children- only to have one of them torn away by what they’d spent so long on.

“Was it worth it?” The ghost boy asked. There was something broken about it, and perhaps they’d been wrong, about ghosts. For once.

“Turn it on.” It asks, commands, as though it had the power, but it wrenched something in the Fenton parents. “Your son’s death has caused more harm than it has done good, let the last ghost upon this land leave, and the loss of your child be your lesson.

Let me go, Mum. Dad.”

[wisedental]

Children's Dentistry Bridgeport TX

Oral health among kids is crucial; seeking a dentist regularly is vital to ensure good oral health. Let us take care of those smiles.

To know more,

Call: 940-683-3233

Visit: https://www.wisedentaltx.com/services/general-dentistry/children-dentistry/

[superstar-nan]

Fight Tooth and Nail

Day 4

Summary: You and Michael go home and make up, but unfortunately don't make out.

Words: 3,894

Fun stuff: Toxic relationships, mentions of dead children, vague allusions to familial abuse, descriptions of corpses. Michael tries for reader, but old willy has their heart even if it's out of hate :> poor michael…

First ♡ Prev ♡ Next

───── (\ /) ─────

It was strange how quickly you could fall into routine. In the last few hours of the night, you rotely rebooted the haunted attractions systems with such bland ease that you almost considered playing music in one of your earbuds. You didn’t for a number of reasons—you wanted to stay alert, your mind was too overstimulated from your newfound discoveries, and you knew it would upset Michael more than you already had that night—so your strange mix of restlessness and boredom remained.

Michael stayed silent, but occasionally glanced back at you. You assumed it was to ensure you wouldn’t sneak off and get killed by Springtrap, and honestly it was justifiable. Even as you sat there having barely escaped death twice that night, you were itching to search the attraction for any secret wall entrances or trapdoors.

After the fight you had with Michael, you’d be willing to wait one more night for any more adventure. You only had two or so hours left anyway, which might not be enough time to thoroughly search the floors and walls while dodging Springtrap. You told yourself that anytime you felt the sense of urgency to find your best friend, hungry and dehydrated and alone.

So, you were well behaved. You didn’t even look at the cameras for Springtrap, no matter how much you wanted to. If Michael was pleased by your good behavior, he didn’t show it. The two of you sat in comfortable silence for the rest of his shift. Even after his alarm went off, you just stretched, cracking your back and shoulders while wincing from the bite mark on your neck.

Michael handed you his jacket, and you raised an eyebrow at him.

“To hide the marks.” He clarified.

You looked at his arms, withered and decayed like some kind of horror movie prop. You didn’t want to upset him, so you said, “I could just say we’re really kinky?”

You could see the warm byzantium even from beyond his black face mask, “Just put the damn jacket on.”

You put it on and zipped it up to your neck. When the dayshift guard came, you hugged Michael’s arm to keep it hidden from sight while Michael angled his other arm away from the guard. It hardly mattered, the dayshift guard seemed more interested in the new markings on the window, which you played dumb to since Michael was as silent as the grave. You dutifully performed the role of Michael’s partner as you hurried out the door before the dayshift guard noticed anything in the dim lighting. The guard had to believe Michael had some kind of skin condition or something...

Michael drove again, citing your bite as reason for him to drive, but at this point you think he just preferred driving. It wasn’t that important to you. You liked leaning your head on the window and looking outside while you let your thoughts run, organizing what questions you wanted to ask first. There were heavy and dark clouds in the sky. Though they looked weighted, you didn’t think it would rain just yet.

When Michael pulled up to his place, he opened his car door and said while stepping out, “I’m surprised you haven’t bombarded me with questions yet.”

You followed him in suit, “I want to.” You said, honestly. You opened your mouth to start-

“Whatever’s holding you back, keep listening to it.”

You closed your mouth. What an asshole.

He stepped through the doorway and threw his keys and backpack on the table, stretching his arms until they made a decidedly unnatural popping noise. He groaned as he rolled his shoulders before heading straight to the pantry. You hopped up on the table, crossing your legs. Maybe if you were patient enough, he would hear you out just to get you out of his peripheral.

He pulled popcorn out of the pantry and put it in the microwave. After pushing a few buttons, he glanced at you and scoffed in a way that sounded half laughing and half mocking. There was another rare smile from him—if you could call it that, maybe a smirk would be more appropriate. You weren’t charmed by this one, just annoyed. “Am I ever going to see you sit on a chair?”

Huh. You didn’t realize you never sat on chairs around him. “If you’re lucky,” You said.

Michael rolled his eyes, and it was a wonder to behold given how undead he was. He leaned against the counter with his arms crossed. He was staring at your neck. “You should bandage that now.”

Your fingers grazed the bitemarks. It didn’t throb as much as it did before, but it still stung ever so lightly. You didn’t want to bandage it up, but you didn’t have an excuse anymore. You swallowed as you nodded, “Yeah. I should.” You took Michael’s backpack that was behind you and started shuffling for the bandages.

Michael took a few steps closer to you, “Let me.”

You waved him off dismissively, “I’ve got it.”

Regret pitted at the bottom of your stomach the moment you caught Michael’s expression. For the briefest of moments, he looked wounded; a vulnerable insecurity revealed raw. He masked indifference just as quickly. That didn’t stop your anxiety from jumping to your worst fear: he thought you were disgusted by him earlier and didn’t want to touch him again.

“Actually,” You feigned nonchalance. “You don’t have a hand mirror, and it’s hard just using my phone. Can you do it?”

Michael didn’t respond, just exhaling through shredded, worn lips. He stepped closer to you and took the bandages, however. You had no idea whether you relieved any of his pain.

You took his large jacket—which you were still wearing, you now noticed—and let it pool at your elbows. He began measuring out where to bandage you, and he was close. You could see the details of his abrazed skin this close; peeking at his white teeth and blackened gums through the abrasions in his cheeks, realizing his dark brown furrowed brow must have been artificial like his hair, and watching his concentrating hollow eyes encased in shadow darker than the midnight sky. Like Springtrap, you found Michael more alluring with his death than without.

Michael tugged lightly on your sleeve. You realized he was trying to bandage you without touching you. Your heart felt heavy. “Should I take it off?” You asked.

Michael didn’t answer you right away, “I can work around it.”

“That seems harder than it needs to be,” You said bluntly. “I could... use the jacket? If you’re uncomfortable.”

“Uncomfortable isn’t-” Suddenly, the microwave timer went off, interrupting Michael with loud, annoying beeping—ones that oddly reminded you of red-flashing-blaring. You saw the corpse set his jaw through his abraded cheeks, and what wouldn’t you give to know what he was thinking. “Do whatever you want.”

You took off your shirt slowly—to keep from irritating the bite wounds too much, and you still ended up wincing—while Michael busied himself with the bandages. You zipped up the jacket to where it covered your lower chest, leaving the sleeves hanging off your shoulders so he would have full access to the wound.

Michael looked back at you. His void eyes widened and they scrolled your body, trailing from your eyes, down your neck, across your chest, and then settling on your bare shoulders and collar. Your brow furrowed. Was the wound worse than you thought? But that didn’t explain the warm byzantium shade sporting across his neck and ears. Was he really flushed? Or was that just the dingy lighting...? He swallowed, and it was thick enough for you to see it.

Your brow twinged lightly in concern, “What’s wrong?”

Michael’s eyes lowered as he bit his tattered lip. “Nothing’s wrong.”

Maybe it really did look worse than you originally thought, and you were too blinded by your hate-passion to realize it.

Cold fingers touched your shoulder and you shivered, a small and quiet gasp passing your lips. That surprised you... and that stung. It seemed he was done avoiding touch, and you were glad for it despite your visceral shudder. He was methodical and slow while bandaging you, each gentle wrap being accentuated by decayed fingers sliding between bandage and skin. It was a steady and deliberate gesture; he ignored your every hiss of pain as he glazed over fresh cuts and your every soft sigh of relief when he left them.

You couldn't place it—he was helping you, his hands were gentle (though firm), and he hadn't said anything—and yet, you felt like his ministrations were driven by agitation. You couldn't puzzle out over what, though. Was it because of you touching him earlier? Was it your fight? Was it something else entirely? You truly had no idea, and Michael was the furthest thing from an open book to spell it out for you.

When Michael was just about finished, you decided to speak, "...I'm lucky I met you." You said, softly.

Michael stopped. You hoped he realized that you were referring to your outburst earlier, because you already felt too vulnerable being the first to admit being wrong.

"The rest of this... I'm not so lucky, but meeting you?" You sighed, and it was heavy with the weight of everything you've had to bear these past three nights. "I'm glad we met."

You met Michael's eyes. He was staring so deeply into yours, it was hard not to get lost in his stare. An endless, bottomless, void-like gaze... You saw the slight furrow in his brow and the way his void eyes shook with uncertainty, and you knew he was battling with something. Michael returned to bandaging you, and though physically it was the same, somehow it felt gentler.

"You're not... completely inept."

Wow. That's how he apologizes in return. You said something super sweet, and he says you're not completely inept. God, he needed to be wacked in the head... Though, to be fair, you didn't exactly apologize either.

"No, I'm not," You agreed nonchalantly as Michael was finishing up the last of your bandages. He tucked the end of the bandage underneath his dressing, and you pretended like you didn’t wince. "Some might even say I saved us last night. You're welcome, by the way." You mimicked his gravelly voice.

Michael's mood soured, and not in the usual-fun-grumpy way, "Yeah. You saved us with your bizarre psycho-sexual relationship with my serial killer dad. Thanks for that."

Psycho-sexual. Your face grew warm with a deep blush, and void eyes hardened when he saw it. You scowled, pulling away from him abruptly and coming down from the table, "What are you talking about?" 

"You’re gonna play dumb?” Michael crossed his arms and shrugged, “Fine.”

“I’m not-!” You exhaled sharply while running a hand over your scalp. You didn’t want to fight again. You just made up, “I just don’t know what you’re referring to.”

Michael raised his eyebrows, unimpressed, “My dad drew a heart in the glass.”

“We already knew he was psychotic,” You growled.

“You used a box cutter to try and... break it? What were you doing?”

"He was mocking me!" You snapped your head toward Michael, "I was mad!"

"Were you mad when you stared into his eyes and sighed like a lovesick schoolkid?" Michael’s voice sharpened with a harsh venom by the end of his sentence.

You remembered exactly how you felt coming down from your hatred, Springtrap just beyond the glass, and imagining the torture he went through. God, you felt mad and sick at that, but you also knew Michael wasn't wrong. It felt nauseatingly good to be wanted so intensely, and you hated that about yourself, "I- I wasn’t-” What could you even say?

“You’re blushing.” Michael’s gaze was as sharp and cold as his voice.

You felt your face with your palm. You were so warm. That wasn’t good. You leaned against the table, rubbing your temples, “I think I’m going to be sick.”

"How do you think I felt? You don’t-” Michael cut himself off and you could hear the anger he was trying to quell. You couldn’t begin to wrap your head around what Michael must be thinking... and you didn’t know if you even wanted to. “You don’t actually think you lov-?”

“No!” You had to snip that train of thought in the bud right away, “No. And don’t even say it, or I will strangle you until death decides to take you after all.” Thank god you meant that honestly. You knew you were losing your mind, but at least your head was screwed on enough to not fall in love with Springtrap.

Michael blew out air between his teeth. He rubbed his void eyes as he held the countertop with the same exhaustion you held the table with. Despite how tired he looked, his shoulders relaxed slightly and the tension left his fists. “Alright. What is it, then?”

You raised your hand and dropped it in weak exasperation, “Does it matter?”

“It matters,” He said, and of course it mattered. It was why you are still alive.

You exhaled and rubbed your temples, "Look, Michael. I'm not... super well... psychologically, right now."

"Who would've guessed?"

You threw the bandages at him, which he dodged, but you continued, "I don't know where my best friend is, if- if they're even alive, every night might be their or my last, I've been hit in the head a few times, I've hardly gotten any sleep, I just found out ghosts are real-!"

"Okay," Michael cut you off. "I get it."

You sighed, shaky and soft, "I'm... not myself. I know I might do or say something weird that I-... Just know I hate Springtrap. I truly hate him.” Who knew hate could be so passionate? “I want to kill him. Whether we find my friend or not, that’s my goal. I’m assuming that’s what you want, too.”

Michael didn’t say anything as he mulled over your words.

“That’s what you want, right?” Why else would he keep going back there? To play hide-and-seek with his psychotic dad all night long?

Michael folded his arms, leaning back against the countertop, “... I’ve been thinking about why the Spring Bonnie animatronic acted the way that it did.”

“That couldn’t have been less natural.” You said, annoyed.

“Do you want to know my thoughts on Spring Bonnie or not?”

Damn... You sighed, “Alright, what do you think its deal is?”

Michael scratched the back of his neck, “It’s been a while—those spring lock suits were old even in the 80’s—but I think there’s some sort of protocol for returning customers. Something in their code that has them give special treatment or priority to people who regularly showed up to Fredbear’s—er, the diner they’re from.”

You nodded, slowly, “I thought it might be something like that... That’s pretty advanced for the 80’s. That’s pretty advanced for now.” 

Michael half-laughed, half-scoffed as he pulled the popcorn from the microwave. It had to have been cold by now. He didn’t seem to care, pouring the cold popcorn into a large bowl. “You should have seen them yourself,” He said, and his voice was almost wistful. “It was... it was like they were real, sometimes...”

You perked up at the promise of Michael-lore. “I’ve seen some videos...” You said, keeping your voice casual. 

He shook his head and you followed him out of the kitchen and into his living room, “It’s not the same.”

“Tell me about it.” You sat down next to him on his couch, fully facing him.

Michael took one glance at you, before scowling and throwing popcorn in his mouth. “Don’t look at me like that,” He said with a full mouth. You forced yourself not to cringe as you saw popcorn and butter chew to a pulp from beyond his abraded cheeks.

“Like what?”

Michael threw more popcorn in his mouth, before pointing at you accusingly, “With stars in your eyes and excitement written all over your face. You look at me like that whenever my past gets brought up.”

“I’m curious!” You said, offended. “Even if you weren’t-” Michael gave you a hard look, and you wisely decided against bringing up the fact that he was dead, “-a security guard, I’d still want to know about your past.”

Michael exhaled, exaggeratedly and annoyed, before using his remote to turn on the TV. Whatever was playing was arbitrary and unimportant, so you ignored it regardless of Michael’s eyes glued to the screen.

“Come on,” You leaned your head against the couch as you faced him, a playful smile breaching your lips. “Staying mysterious can’t be that important.”

Michael turned up the volume of the TV.

“I’d love to know where you learned your shitty manners.” You said, blandly.

“Maybe I don’t want to talk about my past because it sucked. Terribly.” He looked at you pointedly, “Because growing up with a psychopath for a father tends to ruin your childhood. Ever thought about that?”

You bit your tongue. You knew Michael wanted to stun you into dropping the topic; which he did, but not in the way he intended. The thing was, you had thought about that. You were curious about Michael, that wasn’t a lie, but the weaker part of you wanted to know exactly how William treated his son. You wanted to know just how far he took his abuse. You wanted to know every evil word or every raised hand, all to add more coal to the fire that was your hatred. You could chalk it up to morbid curiosity, but you knew yourself better than that.

Guilt washed over you in a wave. You shouldn’t want that, you shouldn’t want to know that. So you decided not to ask anymore, for your own sanity. The less you learned about William—about Springtrap, the better. You turned to the TV, your eyes glazed over. The screen could have been static, and you wouldn’t have noticed.

Michael must’ve seen your face and believed you felt guilty for a much more altruistic reason (and you would never tell him otherwise), because he sighed, seemingly exasperated, and said, “I spent a lot of time at Fredbear’s growing up. It was basically my second home.”

Michael was a goddamn jezebel. You just rallied the strength to not pry into his (and, by proxy, his father’s) past, and he was going to offer it to you on a silver platter? You couldn’t stop yourself from turning to fully face him, pulling your legs underneath you and nodding at him to continue.

Michael tried to hide his blush with a scowl at your attention, “My mum... wasn’t in the picture.” You wouldn’t have been surprised if William killed her. Or if she just left him; you don’t imagine child killers make good husbands.What was more surprising was that he managed to get a kid or three out of her before she left or died. “And... My dad worked at Fredbear’s, so I spent every day after school there. Even when I got old enough to take care of Elizabeth and-” He stopped, dropping his gaze. “-my sister and my brother, I still hung around Fredbear’s. That’s where all my friends were, and-...”

Michael looked away from you, his shoulders oddly stiff and somber. He ran his fingers through his hair and his hands were shaking.

“I stopped hanging around Fredbear’s just a few years before my dad killed all those kids.” His voice quieted. You wanted to know why he avoided Fredbear’s if it wasn’t because of the murders, but the melancholy in his voice stopped you from asking.

“...But you ended up working at a few Freddy’s places later?” You asked.

“It was complicated.” He said.

You hummed in thought. He wasn’t telling you everything, but you didn’t mind it. “Was it fun? Being at Fredbear’s all the time?”

“Sometimes. It was what every kid dreamed. It was fun and loud...” He said, and you pictured Spring Bonnie from the picture: pretty and bright and wonderful. “What almost every kid dreamed. Sometimes... It was a lot. Sometimes you just wanted to get away from the bright lights and the loud noises.”

“Sounds overwhelming.”

“Sometimes...” Michael trailed off.

“What were your siblings like?”

Michael brought his void eyes up to meet yours, and you worried you overstepped. Then, his gaze settled on your lap, distant and somber, “Childish. Both of them, in different ways. My sister was a bit spoiled, but well meaning. She cared so much about stupid stuff. My brother... he was soft-hearted. He cried about everything. He hated Fredbear’s.”

Though Michael hardly said a kind word about either of his siblings, the tenderness in his voice spoke volumes. “...Are they-?”

You didn’t even have to ask the question, “They’re dead.” Michael said, and his voice hardened with the cold words. “Both gone before they even got to grow up.”

“Oh,” You lowered your eyes. You had wondered as much, seeing the little boy and girl both disappear from Michael's pictures, but it was more somber hearing it from him. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” He said, though you didn’t believe it was actually fine. “It’s been a long time.”

Michael’s hand was next to your legs. You gently placed your hand over his hand and rubbed your thumb along his skin. Michael was frozen for a second, before he turned his hand over and held yours.

After a comfortable space of silence, Michael spoke, “What about your family?”

“What about them?” You asked.

“Tell me about them.”

You felt strange talking about your family, especially since it seemed like bragging since—no matter your family situation, it was still better than a child-murdering father. But, it was only fair since you pestered him about his past, so you told him about yours. You told him about your childhood, your family, the things you liked and the things that were hard. You told him how you met your best friend and how you came to be friends. Your voice started to waver as you talked about them, so you stopped. Michael still held onto your hand, even as you shoved cold popcorn into your mouth to keep yourself from crying.

“I’m starving. I wish you had real food,” You said, choking on popcorn.

"...I'm sorry," He said. You knew he wasn't talking about the popcorn, but you made yourself believe he was so you wouldn't have to think about your own grief.

You leaned your head on Michael's shoulder, watching the TV. You honestly had no idea what was happening on the screen; you weren't paying attention and you doubted Michael had either. It didn't matter, though. It was something to focus on that wasn't important.

So you watched melodramatic vampires and theatrical reactions like you didn't have to go back to Fazbear's Fright tomorrow. You sank into the couch like you wouldn't have a new injury the next time you returned here—if you returned at all. You leaned into Michael like you weren't hatefully enraptured with his father, dreading Springtrap as much as you craved to face him. You relaxed like you weren't losing your mind, craving wicked things that took your closest friend from you.

You fell asleep like you had no worries at all.

[alittlekitscave]

Caregiver!Barnaby Headcanons

(NOTE: first time making one of these posts! might be a bit rough, bear with me.)

Definitely spoils you with sweet treats and candy, let's be real. He probably doesn't even remember tooth decay exist until you complain about it one day.

Even if you don't like sweets, he'll still give you whatever you want. He's got the power of cartoon logic, after all!

He's definitely had the Barnaboo's babysit you or just be your playdate buddies while he's out.

They might be the only reason you're not dead yet, honestly. If anyone can recognize something dangerous or poison, it's the already dead people.

That, or he can't bring himself to hurt you in the slightest since.. y'know. (Motions sadly to the fact he may or may not have been a father when alive)

Hugs are so soft and nice!! He puffs his feathers out on purpose and snuggles you if you ask for it, or might even do it to surprise you (if you're comfortable with surprise touches. If not, he'll wait).

If you stim, he'll gladly do it with you. Especially if you happen to pick up his own, like wing flapping or hooting!

If you somehow find a way to wear that Barnaby onesie that's been floating around in some Ash artwork, he would CRY. In a good way.

Will gladly do some little activities with you, as he's got his own form of childish nature. Like coloring, for example!

Absolutely the type to playfully have a conversation with you, even if you're in a baby talk mode. "Oh-hoo-hoo! Is that so, my little friend? :}"

Nicknames include stuff like "Sweetie", very dramatic "My Baby!"s, "Sweettart", etc.

For the popular Barntoccio shippers: No, he wouldn't trust Fantoccio with you. I don't think Fantoccio would actually enjoy children unless they took an interest in him or theatre. Sorry to tell you.. (but he'll definitely still take you along to see him.. >:3)

He loves you so much!

[never-goingtopostanything]

Carnivallium headcanons

The people of Carnivallium are very sleep deprived because of how noisy the danceverse is.

The people don't go to the carnivals and fairs often since they are o used to them that they aren't fun or exciting anymore for them.

Carnivallium has the highest tourist rates of all the danceverses.

The majority of people work in the fairs/carnivals since they are basically the only option people have.

Carnivallium has the lowest housing and rant prices of all the danceverses.

There are massive discounts on everything during holidays especially Christmas and Valentines day.

There is an abandoned theme park on the outskirts of Carnivallium that most people think is haunted, in reality a few teenagers skip school there everyday and more often than not don't go back to their homes after the school day is over.

Carnivallium has probably the third worst education system of the danceverses because the carnivals and other attraction are constantly distracting the children.

A normal family day out is theme park hopping around the families area and regretting the decision almost an hour after they start.

Carnivallium has the highest rats of type two diabetes.

Cotton candy is the national food of Carnivallium, tooth decay is very common.

All healthcare is free excluding dental care.

Carnivallium doesn't have a proper government it has multiple smaller councils that meet twice a month, most on these councils run the carnivals and parks.

The most popular parks in Carnivallium are water parks.

Carnivallium is a popular winter vacation destination, which is when the most tourist visit.

There is at least one carnival shut down everyday since the rides have all broken down.

All the carnivals and shows close down on Christmas day so families can spend time together.

There isn't any Halloween events in Carnivallium.

Carnivallium has a CO2 problems because of all the rides.