#what a prick (lesion)

[monstermaster13]

Corey and Oats in…

Corey’s Mutation Problem.

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

Corey was a covid microbe who tried his very best to be nice to others but it was difficult for him because of many benefactors, whenever he was in crowds…his ‘covid sense’ would go berserk and he’d go on a spree where he’d take over other people’s bodies, and he also had a phobia of high places…his fear of heights often caused him to panic. Of course his major problem was his problem with mutations, even though he could control his mutations at will sometimes he sometimes did lose control whenever there was a new variant and he’d mutate.

Corey always described these as being scary for him to undergo and he would have nightmares about this, but luckily Oats was there to comfort him. He was in the bedroom one afternoon, in his house in Nile Road, and he was shivering a little.

“Aaaw..what’s wrong, Corey?”

The covid microbe turned to Oats and groaned…’I have that weird feeling again, a feeling that i’m going to mutate.’ ‘There there, it’s okay.’ ‘I don’t feel so good.’ ‘I’m here for you, Corey.’ ‘A-a-choo!’ Corey sneezed, and as he did he turned a deeper shade of red as his eyes glowed.

“It’s alright Corey, we can get through this.”

He sobbed and as he did, several disconcerting crunching noises were heard as he began to grow larger in height, in addition to this his nails sharpened, resembling claws as his spikes also sharpened a little, he broke down in tears as lesions formed on parts of his body in a manner that was best described as akin to a Cronenbergian body horror movie as he groaned in agony. ‘Help me, Oatsie, help me!’ Corey cried. Oats reached over to hug his friend but he was poked by one of Corey’s spikes. ‘I’m trying but you poked me.’ ‘Sorry.’

The covid microbe didn’t know what to do, he knew that if he worried any further the mutation would get worse, and that’s when he saw a pair of horns grow out of the otp of his head, his brow took on the appearance of being akin to a Buffyverse vampire brow as his teeth sharpened, he cried out for help as his voice deepened to sound a little bit demonic.

He cried as Oats patted him on the back, only to attack him as if he was possessed and to snap out of it. ‘I am sorry that I did this to you, I don’t know what’s gotten into me, my mutations usually aren’t like this.’

Oats patted his friend and gave him a hug, Corey sighed..thinking that if his mutation got any worse he could be a hazard to anyone who tries to comfort him, so he jumped out the window and ran away from home. Which made Oats sad, but Oats knew what to do as he used an item in the bedbox to form a magical passageway which lead to the direction his microbe friend was running off to.

Corey ran through the North Shore city, running around through Milford, running into the Milford Mall and wreaking havoc, luckily Oats was able to catch up to his friend. Corey raced through the Milford mall and then out of it, racing out of the parking lot and over to Glenfield and into that area’s mall, Oats caught up to him just as he saw Corey looking in one of the windows. ‘Corey, are you okay?’ ‘Don’t look at me Oatsie, i’m a monster.’ ‘ ‘No you’re not, you are my friend and I love you a lot.’ ‘You h--heart me?’ ‘Yes, I really really love you.’

“That warms my heart to hear that.”

“It does?”

“Yes…I heart you too, Oatsie.”

Corey’s eyes brightened as he hugged Oats, this time his spikes didn’t prick the dress wearing equine. ‘You are my best friend and I love you, we can get through this.’ ‘Thank you, thank you for helping me.’ He felt a warming sensation in his heart as he slowly turned back into his normal self.

“That was horrifying.”

‘I hate my mutations, but unfortunately they have a tendency to happen and I cannot do anything about them.’ ‘There there, it’s okay..come on, i’ll help you to feel better.’ Oats reached out for Corey’s hand as the duo ran home.

When they arrived home in Nile Road, Oats put on his nurse outfit and took care of him, he gave him some fruit tea and some frooze balls as well as one of his freshly baked cookies, which made Corey very happy. ‘Thank you for helping me back there.’ ‘No problem. I know how hard it must be to have to deal with those and I want you to know, i’m here for you.’ Corey smiled a little bit, as he hugged his friend.

It didn’t take long for him to get better as the duo played hospital and looked over the other microbes and Corey felt better about his mutations, Alcina looked over at him and kissed him, she was glad he turned out okay. They had some afternoon tea, and a couple of hours later they had dinner.

“Feeling better now, Corey?”

“Yes…indeed I am.”

After dinner they played some games, listened to their favorite songs and had fun. When it was time for them to get ready for sleepytime fun, they put on their night-clothes, brushed their teeth and said goodnight to Mariah and Ysa who were the helpers on sleepover duty for the night.

They got into bed, snuggled up and had sweet dreams of playing together, in their dreams Corey and Oats worked at a hospital looking after the other microbes. It just goes to show that friendship really is the greatest form of medicine in the whole world.

Thus with that they had a nice night with the classical music station on, snuggling up and having sweet dreams. But that is not all. Even though this adventure has ended, stay tuned for more in the coming weeks.

Stay tuned for ‘Corey and Oats’s Galactic Journey’, a few new holiday specials, ‘Cinnamon: Princess of the Flowery Forest’ and ‘Return to Weta Workshop’..

[flawedconqueror]

This is getting to my nerves

Pun intended.

For the past 3 or so years, I’ve had limited success trying to address my nerve issues. I’m not sure if it’s due to over exercising, wig wearing, nutritional deficiencies or more. But I’ve been dealing with what feels like a MS hug - finally a term to describe the hell I’ve been feeling. It feels at times there is a girdle or tension around my torso area. I also feel prolonged clamp tension around my head which friggin’ sucks. I’ve stopped wearing wigs due to this.

 How I was able to drive and work and function all this time is beyond me. I also deal with feeling off balance, disoriented and confused at times. This can be triggered by wearing a hat, a bonnet, scalp massages. I’m trying to get to the bottom of this. Around Spring/Summer 2022 I first went to the doctor  at my surgery who then had me referred me to a neurologist with an appointment for 2023 January. The thought of having to deal with prolonged chronic pain and discomfort for several months is beyond me. I’m not sure why it was acceptable for me to tolerate pain. I feel pin and pricks feelings, numbness in different parts of my body. As someone who is a keen exerciser I am limited to what I can do and I miss going to the gym. I wasn’t content waiting until 2023 January so I went to one of the supposedly top private neurologists (chucking a few hundred pounds in the process) who not only was late to my appointment but seemingly dismissed my very valid claims of pain. This is why people are so disillusioned with the medical system you have to go through hoops and so forth, and a convoluted, long-winded bureaucratic process to get essential help. Again, I went to my general surgery where the head doctor commissioned a blood test. Based on that further action would be required. The blood tests did indicate I had high B12 levels but nothing concrete to provide answers to my nerve pain, so I requested another appointment with the doctor who requested a blood test for next steps. Rather than dealing with the root issue they’re dealing with my blood which isn’t what I came for. Instead the blood doctor told me that the doctor who requested the blood test felt  she didn’t need to meet me, that since I have a neurologist appointment in January I should just wait until then. So I had to be really pushy with the blood doctor to go see him tomorrow, I want an MRI to confirm I don’t have lesions on spine or brain. Why is this normal to have to wait months. What if it is MS - God forbid - but if it is these are critical months where action could be taken, before God forbid irreversible damage. People with cancer have a better chance of survival if it is addressed earlier. I’m telling you doctors need to wake up. This lack of urgency is exactly why the NHS is in shambles: indifference. apathy, malaise.

[yokaicanhandleit]

Liu raised a brow. Did the japanese man forget his own birthday? Masaru too busy tinkering with his Yokai drone to even acknowledge his lover in the room, Tze Long draped his arms around Enatsu. “Happy Birthday, Babe. How about we do something fun together. I got dvds.” He said, kissing the other’s forehead.

Enatsu, has remembered his birthday it wasn’t as if he’d hadn’t, a few members of his family even called the Japanese engineer. But that was it, he hadn’t much thought of his family since he sort of came to terms with his liking men. Not until those calls and so Echo did what he did best using all those feeling burying them and working on Yokai until he felt a warm pair of arms wrapping around him.

His cheek’s turning red as he slowly pressed his head back, pressing against Liu’s body. Smiling at the kiss on his forehead. “Hmm Liu~ you know what year it is? Who has DVDs? What’s next VHS?” He teased his lover letting out a soft laugh.

[lordoftermites]

OF CLOVER & IRON

Part One

Pairing: Roiben x Kaye

Summary: fluff(ish), angst, obligatory smut (later). fluffish smangst, let's go with that.

My first fic for these two—and all around the first one I've ever written, period. I finally got to a point that I can confidently post parts 1 & 2 without obsessive editing so yeet haw let's fuckin go. Set the day after Ironside Ch. 13. {there's a slight deviation of the wound placements also, because I just really wanted to see Kaye lovingly take care of her Emo Black Knight™. Everything else is canon-compliant. I hope.}

Rating: M for suggestive themes, smut in future chapters

Also I was listening to Beautiful Crime by Tamer and If You Care by Evan Barlow the whole time and if those aren't the most Roiben songs I've ever fucking heard—

*buzzfeed voice* let's get into it

________________

Each step I left behind Each road you know is mine Walking on a line ten stories high Say you'll still be by my side If I could take your hand, oh If you could understand That I can barely breathe, the air is thin I fear the fall and where we'll land

"You realize I have attendants for this, don't you?"

Roiben was reclined, rather awkwardly, against the mountain of plush pillows on his bed. Their down stuffing jutted through the timeworn fabric and pricked along the sensitive skin of his bare back.

While the gash Talathain's sword had wrought the day before had since been cleaned and bandaged, the end of those feathers still managed to find their way through to jab at the still-open wound, eliciting from him a wince, as though he needed reminding of the events that had transpired had, in fact, transpired.

Ruefully, Roiben found that he did not need reminding.

"Mhmm, I know." Kaye replied absently beside him, drawing him back to the present. She was perched on the edge of the bed, inky-black gaze fixed on his hand in her lap; she was gently applying a viscous paste to the scarlet, angry line along his palm—another gift from Silarial's green knight. The mixture had a cooling element to it, not at all unpleasant against the dull burn of the wound. Kaye was careful, dedicated as she worked. Her tender, feather-light touches sent an involuntary shiver down the base of Roiben's spine.

“I admit, I do not mislike having you for a nursemaid instead of an ill-tempered hob." He grinned down at her as she finished, gently wrapping a milky-white cloth around the pad of his hand, tying it off in a small knot at the base of his wrist. He didn’t think anyone in his service would have tended to him with such attentive care; actually, they very well may have relished an opportunity to see him wince. Indeed, he much preferred this.

She glanced up at him through thick lashes and gave him a small smile of her own, but it faltered on her features, wavered there until it faded into something Roiben couldn't name. "I guess,” she began, dropping her gaze back down to his newly-dressed hand in hers. “I just wanted to do… something, for a change." Roiben's brow knitted at the sadness in her voice, the way the guilt, thoroughly misplaced, steeped her words. There was a twinge in his chest that was reminiscent of the arrow she had pulled from it not four months prior. Automatically, his hand reached up to touch the new scar, a rose-tinted indentation in the middle of his sternum. A phantom ache bloomed under his fingers.

She had been only a human girl then, guised as she was, and unfortunate enough to be the one to find him bleeding out, collapsed there against the gnarled tree he would have gladly let become his grave. She had saved his very soul that night in the rain, though neither of them had known it at the time. It was very likely she still didn't.

And here she was again, nursing the consequences of his own obstinate pride and blaming herself for it. Too often, too willingly did she take the weight of his burdens as her own, while he futilely sought to keep her safe from them. Safe from him. She was the most stubbornly kind creature he had ever known; a knight of her own design—a savior he had never had any right to.

Roiben reached out to tuck a loose tendril of viridescent hair behind her ear. The slight movement pulled at the lesion on his back, threatening another wince. He resisted. "Kaye," he started, and when she didn't meet his eyes, he crooked a finger under her chin and canted her head to him.

"There is nothing you have done—not since the moment I met you to now, that was not something." His thumb ran over her emerald jawline, the smooth skin silk in contrast to the roughness of his own. Kaye's eyes fluttered and she leaned into his touch. "I know it is my failure, in not telling you as such, that you mistakenly think yourself so inadequate. For that, I am well and truly sorry."

Through the burning discomfort of his wounds, Roiben drew her down to him and captured her mouth in a kiss. He had never been a master of apologies— or much else for that matter. And for reasons he was unable to name, his way of begging Kaye's pardon seemed to often be sought with his mouth, as if he hoped she could taste it on his tongue— and forgive him with her own.

Her lips, softer than satin and more delectable than any wine he had ever tasted, parted in a soft, lilting sigh. The sound, as it so often did, caused the muscles in his lower abdomen to coil with a rush of warmth. His bandaged fingers moved to tangle in her wild hair as her tongue danced between his teeth, languorous at first, then quickly shifting into something nearer to frenzy. He could feel his pulse quicken, the familiar strain across the front of his trousers when her hand splayed his chest, soft fingertips pressing into his bare skin. His breath hitched.

And then Kaye's lips were gone and she was pushing herself back up, away from him, her breathing ragged. He watched her dazedly, lamenting the abrupt loss of her closeness. She combed a hand through her mess of green hair, and Roiben realized she was trembling. He frowned.

"What is it?" he asked, drawing himself up to a sitting position, jaw clenched against the sharp tug of the bandage stretching from his shoulder to his hip. "Have I done something to displease you?" He glanced down, sliver gaze settling on a fraying thread of gauze on his wrist. "Perhaps my apology wasn't quite the one you were looking for, but I—"

"That's not it." Kaye cut him off, and when he looked back up to meet her eyes, he was disconcerted to find their pitch depths were suddenly glistening. He opened his mouth to speak, but Kaye raised a hand to forestall him. He pressed his lips together, obediently falling mute. "It… it's not you. I mean, it's a little bit you. Okay— maybe it's a lot you. But… I'm just…" She let out a frustrated groan, as though she couldn't quite manage to untangle whatever thought she was trying to get out. The back of her hand swiped angrily across her eyes.

Roiben knew she hated crying, but he was unsure whether it was explicitly crying in front of him, or if it was the act altogether. Whatever the reason, there was a nagging in his gut, a temptation to reach up and wipe away the glittering tear that rolled down the curve of her verdant cheek.

But he stayed patiently, painfully silent beside her, fingers worrying the fabric over his knuckles instead as she worked through unweaving her mind. Roiben found himself suddenly wishing he had the power to read it, if only to help wrench her free of whatever trap that held her there, apart from him. Finally, she sighed—a dispirited sound that reverberated through the otherwise quiet stillness of his chambers.

"Why did you come back? Why did you find me at the diner? Why did you choose me?"

The string of questions— rather, the way she asked them, whispered, bordering on anguish, stung him like the gilded edge of Talathain's blade. Roiben gaped at her, for a moment too stunned to respond. Her expression was contorted slightly, the emotions that coursed through her scrambling over one another to find purchase on her face. Still, she held his gaze with an unwavering severity that bored into his very being and rooted him to the spot.

He knew she would not accept his usual indirect summarizations, those with which he so carefully guarded himself. He was now well beyond the safety of that delicate thread of tightroped truths he danced.

She expected—commanded his unreserved forthrightness, with that look that held the power of his name without it ever needing to cross her lips.

[permanent-makeup-beauty-clinic]

Microneedling: Everything You've Always Wanted to Know

Everyone wants to have bright, glowing skin. With changing eating habits, age, and climatic conditions, your skin faces many issues. Some of these include fine lines, acne scars, hyperpigmentation, and dark spots, etc. The most effective procedure to resolve these problems is Microneedling.  

What is Microneedling? 

Microneedling, also widely known as collagen induction therapy, is a non-invasive procedure. During this treatment, many sterile microneedles are pushed into the skin. The punctures make small micro-holes that induce the skin's repair system to produce elastic fibers and new collagen. It heals your skin and gives you a younger, beautiful, and rejuvenated look.  

The process is hyped as a multi-purpose treatment option as it enhances a selection of cosmetic issues. 

The FDA (The Food and Drug Administration) approves the use of equipment to reduce or heal the looks of: 

Acne scars 

Wounds 

Dermatoses 

Deep facial lines  

Wrinkles 

Stretch marks 

Cellulite 

Hair Loss, and a lot more.   

How is the Procedure Done? 

The microneedling treatment takes place in the following way: 

Small needles in a device prick the skin.  

It makes tiny, precise holes into the surface of your skin without injuring the epidermis. 

The regulated lesions stimulate the body’s natural therapeutic response to wounds and enhance elastin and collagen production in the skin’s deep layers. 

The treatment produces an additional layer of smoother, fresh-looking skin. 

It is highly beneficial in reducing wrinkles, blemishes, or scars. 

 Who are the Perfect Candidates for the Procedure? 

Anyone can benefit from skin microneedling treatment, as specially designed to treat various skin problems and types. This technique is highly effective against circumstances that affect the skin’s surface.  

Listed below are the issues that are resolved using this technique: 

Signs of Aging:   

After a certain age, our skin produces less collagen (an important protein), so we experience some signs of aging. It includes loss of stiffness of skin and appearance of fine wrinkles. 

Noninvasive treatments can help you resolve this issue if you seek certified services at a young age.  

Through the procedure, the body starts producing collagen again, removing early signs of aging.  

You can get this treatment done at any age.  

Acne Scars:  

Many people face acne problems during their teenage, but the symptoms diminish after some years.  

In a few severe cases, you might have to deal with acne scars for the rest of your life.  

You can get rid of these scars in just a few sessions of Microneedling and can reinstate smooth outlines and curves of your face.  

The candidates can get outstanding results with the combination of PRC (Platelet-Rich-Plasma) and microneedling treatments. 

You can use microneedling facial treatment to reduce scars and blemishes which are caused of:  

An inflammatory disease 

An injury   

Chickenpox, and more 

 Good Health: 

Skin microneedling is slightly invasive, but there is no need for general anesthesia and staying at the clinic overnight.  

The specialist will investigate your medical history to ensure your skin doesn’t react to the treatment. 

You are a suitable candidate if you are in optimum health and don’t have any serious medical conditions. 

The candidate might have to stop taking particular medicines (if you take them) for some days before and after the procedure. 

It will help you attain excellent results and avert any side effects.   

Aftercare Tips 

Good aftercare for microneedling procedures can help you get flawless skin and also protect it from any damage and irritants.  

Consider the following tips to care for your skin after undergoing the treatment: 

Don’t cover the treated area, as it will block the air circulation. 

Keep the area clean and dry 

Don’t apply any shower creams, perfumed products, and essential oils.  

Avoid touching, rubbing, scratching, and picking the treatment site. 

Stay away from swimming pools, spas, and saunas for approximately 2 weeks. 

Avoid direct sun exposure, as it can damage your skin causing hyperpigmentation 

Microneedling is an exceptional treatment to get smooth and bright skin. Now, forget about your wrinkles, fine lines, scars, and blemishes and enjoy your rejuvenated skin.    

[bbrandy2002]

My Love

Chapter Seven

Book: The Royal Heir

Pairing: Liam x Riley

Series Summary: After losing the love of his life, Liam is left with a newborn daughter and a council that demands he endure another social season quickly. Not wanting to move on, he gets help from an unlikely ally – his late wife.

C/N: This story is going somewhere different from how it originally started. I had said from the beginning I wasn’t sure how this fic would be taken because it would be so out of the ordinary. And while the first four chapters could be stand-alones, I always intended for it to continue on in this unconventional way. If you no longer wish to be tagged in it, just let me know and no hard feelings.

T.W.: Mention of a previous rape and examination. Mental health.

Thank you to @burnsoslow​ for beta reading,  all of my snippet readers, and those who have messaged me several times about this story.

If you came to me with a face I have not seen, with a voice I have not heard, I would still know you. –Lang Leav

It is said that the purest kind of love has the power to overcome any obstacle, break through any barrier, to make miracles happen where none existed before. For Liam and Riley, it was fate that brought them together in a New York City bar, and it was love that carried them through many, dark trials.

A passioned romance that started between a prince and a waitress became the epic love story legends were made of. After defeating every enemy that stood in their way, they married in front of the world, ruled side-by-side, and created the most significant symbol of their absolute devotion to one another – a daughter. Neither one ever imagined living in this life without the other … it wasn’t possible. They existed solely for the purpose and betterment of the other.

In what took an act of God to bring them together, took only the evil of man to separate them.

Liam had spent the weeks following her untimely death in a grief-stricken state of misery and torment. He never knew a heart could feel so much pain, nor a body experience so much affliction, missing the one who was the greatest part of himself. Riley was his joy, where none existed and comfort in every sense of the word. Ellie’s presence could only numb a portion of the sting, but not enough to fill the void his soulmate left behind. When Liam spoke to his wife each night, he never questioned whether his messages of eternal love and ’missing his girl,’ fell on spiritually deaf ears. Even with a vast abyss that divided their worlds … somehow … someway … Riley heard every tear he had shed and every expression of sorrow he spoke.

He needed her.

Where time no longer existed, Riley’s soul saw a tiny window of opportunity and literally moved heaven and earth to get back to her one true love. She knew she was the only one who could save him now.

____________

A broken, battered body laid motionless on a cold emergency room stretcher,  surrounded by the hustle and hurried activity of doctors and nurses. In and out of consciousness, the woman’s eyes flickered open when a gloved hand prodded the open wound on the side of her head. The sensation of flesh being ripped away with each poke elicited a scream so chilling, a startled, first-year nurse dropped a tray of metal instruments that crashed and clanked to the floor.  

The patient felt a chilly draft of air as the tattered remains of her shirt and bra were cut down the middle, exposing her marked and bruised breast. EKG electrodes were attached to her chest, and the tangled web of wires that were connected to the monitor came alive with erratic lines and buzzes. Her long brown hair that clumped together in sanguineous knots was swept to the side to remove her gold hoop earrings. Tweezers pinched and bore into the delicate skin of her murky palms, extracting deep thistles and thorns.  What seemed to take hours while portable x-rays were shot, lesions stitched and bandaged, and several infusions of liquids and blood being attached to the tube that ran into her forearm – she was given clear and concise information about the intrusive examination that would soon follow.

A kindly hand held onto hers as another one gently rolled up the sheet that draped over her legs and nudged them apart. Questions were lobbed at her from all directions, but she had no answers. This woman didn’t know what happened, why she was in the hospital, nor the description of who did this to her.  The only thing she remembered at that moment, before waking up on the bristly ground of the park, was Liam crying out for her in their bedroom.

Her gravelly voice went unnoticed when she begged for the examination to stop. It was clear from her feelings of utter filth, the kind that made her skin crawl, this body had been through quite an ordeal. She was told to remain still and relaxed; after what had happened to her, this would provide the evidence needed to ensure justice was served. The truth was, it wasn’t her that experienced what the former personal assistant-turned-nanny to the Cordonian Princess had gone through. What happened to this body took place before Amanda Talbert died, and the spirit of Riley Brooks took over it.

Riley flinched, and her fist gripped a little tighter to the sheet that covered the upper portion of her body. The first of several swabs and probes to her most sensitive areas made her stomach squeamish with nausea. An astute nurse noticed the greenish color that pooled into Riley’s face and thrust an emesis basin next to her cheek to collect the contents of the excretion she expelled. With tears pricking her eyes, Riley eased her throbbing head back onto the pillow when she was finished; the earlier words of a physician telling her ‘how lucky she was to be alive,’ playing over and over in her mind. If Riley didn’t feel like she had just returned to hell-on-earth, she might have found this ironic statement amusing.  

A female officer scraped a wooden applicator under her fingernails, collecting debris, and dropped it into an evidence bag. “Miss, can you tell me your name again?” she asked while labeling the contents with a black marker.

Riley moistened her dry lips with her tongue as she blankly stared straight up at the ceiling. “Riley Brooks,” she whispered hesitantly, keenly aware of the low snickers her answer had drawn from everyone in the room each time the question was asked.

“Very well, Miss … Brooks.” Riley heard the officer reply with a loud exhale and a clipped voice before labeling the bag – Jane Doe.

This wasn’t the reunion Riley had anticipated. She knew her work would be cut out for her considering she didn’t know who she had become or how she would even get to Liam. Just that the perfect person and the perfect opportunity came along, that made it possible for her to be in his orbit. She would worry about the complexities of the situation later, but right now, Riley wanted to find Liam before he destroyed himself.

__________________

Drake poured another glass of water and handed it to Liam, who was sitting up in his hospital bed. He thanked his friend and took a long drink before handing the empty cup back. Liam rolled his head in an attempt to get the tension and knots that a month’s worth of stress had set in. His eyes glanced up to the doctor who paced silently at the foot of his bed, flipping through a chart full of test results and nodding his head in assent while he scrutinized each page.

Feeling frustrated by several minutes worth of silence that was then followed by faint mumblings from this doctor, Liam tapped his finger over his pursed lips with a peculiar expression he hoped the older man would recognize as impatience from his King. He finally scratched the back of his head when his antics hadn’t garnered the attention he had hoped for and decided to express his displeasure over his wait through other means. He let out a heavy sigh and flopped back boisterously into the stacks of pillows that were positioned behind his back.

Drake nudged Bastien in the arm and leaned into his ear. “What the hell did they give him?

The doctor gave a sideways glance before removing his wire-rimmed glasses and placing them back into the pocket of his lab coat. He stood a little taller and turned to face Liam with the opened binder that he had just analyzed cover-to-cover. “My apologies, Your Majesty. I wanted to be thorough in your care and ensure I had a complete understanding of your … situation.”

Liam bolted up at the chosen words to describe him and cocked his head. “What is my … situation … Doctor Ganos?” He asked with an embittered tone. Liam already knew the answer to his question. He had lost his wife, there were still no leads in her murder, he had been betrayed during that morning’s council meeting by Neville, he was now expected to take part in another social season he wanted nothing to do with and twice heard the voice of his late wife.

“Your situation - ” Doctor Ganos, replied nervously as he walked around the bed to Liam’s side. “you’re severely dehydrated for one. I would venture to guess you are also physically and mentally exhausted.”

“That is what caused him to lock the door, toss his clothes around the damn bedroom, and then collapse onto the floor?” Drake asked skeptically.

The doctor turned to Drake, not sure if he should answer his questions, but figured the King would speak up if he didn’t want anything pertaining to his medical records mentioned in front of him. “It’s certainly a huge part of it … yes.” His gaze turned back to Liam with a thoughtful expression. “Based on the very public knowledge of what you have been through since Queen Riley died and the symptoms you described experiencing just before collapsing in your room, I would surmise you had a panic attack. A complete mental breakdown.”

The conversation was interrupted by Bastien’s phone, who then apologized, excused himself, and walked just outside the private hospital room. Another guard took Bastien’s place in the room, and the doctor cleared his throat to continue the basis of his diagnosis. Liam may have felt some trepidation over the words, complete mental breakdown, yet wasn’t surprised by them in the least. He knew he wasn’t the same man he was before and had felt the excruciating toll his body and mind had undergone. He wanted to get back to Ellie, but Doctor Ganos insisted on keeping him through the night to rehydrate him through I.V. fluids and to observe him more closely.

Drake called the palace and checked in on Ellie for Liam, passing along to him that no one knew where Amanda was, but Hana was staying with the baby for the night, and she was fine. Drake crooked a finger through the closed blinds of Liam’s hospital room and peeked out, noting the orange and pinkish hues that colored the horizon as the sun started to make its descent over Cordonia. It had been one hell of a day for everyone. He knew when he woke up this morning that Neville’s call for a council meeting would turn into a shit-show, but never guessed his sworn enemy’s actions would cause his best friend to end his day in a hospital. He knew Neville wasn’t the only reason Liam was so broken, but he sure as fuck had an unnecessary hand in making things worse for him.

Drake slumped into a plush chair in the corner of the best room in the hospital – the one reserved for nobility. The last time anyone occupied this room, he reflected, was the night Riley died. It seemed almost cruel that Liam had to be subjected to such a memory, but the medication that was shot into his veins had somehow caused his friend to not even notice.

“I heard her voice, Drake.”

Drake lifted his tired head from the back of the chair and raised an eyebrow. “Hmm?”

“Riley … I heard her last night. Then again in the bedroom before … you know.” Liam glared at Drake for a moment, attempting to read his body language for a skeptical reaction, but felt relief when there was none. Curious to know what Drake thought and what others may be thinking as well, he let out a low sigh.  “Do you think I’m crazy?”

Drake chuckled lightly. “Considering you let Maxwell have access to the palace armory, I think that makes you certifiable at this point.”

“Drake.”

“No, I don’t think you’re crazy. If you say, you heard her … I believe it.”

Truthfully, Drake didn’t know what to believe. If Liam was comforted in some way by what he thought he may have heard, then who was he to tell him otherwise. Inwardly, however, he was worried about his friend.

Bastien slipped back in and placed his phone in his pants pocket. A look of sheer shock entangled across his face. He nodded anxiously to Liam, who shifted in his bed towards his guard. In all of his loyal years of service to the Crown, he had never felt more like he was about to face a firing squad than he did at that moment. “Your Majesty, I just received a call on a breakthrough in the investigation of the Queen’s death.”

Drake rose to his feet, and Liam pushed himself up higher in his bed, his heart raced impatiently. He had been waiting for any development and was becoming increasingly frustrated by the lack of any leads. He insisted he continues.

“The guards working the investigation received an anonymous tip earlier. It seems -”  Bastien paused knowing the implications of his reveal would be huge and unsettling for his charge, but also he felt a great deal of remorse for not finding this information out earlier. “it seems your nanny, Amanda Talbert, was in possession of the exact same cyanide capsules found in your wife’s body. Our guards were summoned to a local park where they found the pills in her purse. And … a more thorough look into her background revealed her name isn’t even Amanda Talbert, but that of Victoria Cirillo, a Monterissan citizen of birth and first cousin to …”

Drake dropped his head and groaned. “Amalas.”

The air became thick with an eerie silence. The sharpest sword and blade in the world, couldn’t have cut the tension that absorbed that room at that moment. After mulling over the intelligence he had just received, Liam sat up calmly … almost too calmly,  and tossed the sheet off his body. He rose to his bare feet at the side of the bed.

Liam eyed Bastien with a merciless gaze. “What the fuck am I paying you for? How was all of this missed by the guards? I mean, this woman has been caring for my daughter, in my home, for weeks.”  Feeling the dizzying effects of the medication he had been given, Liam sat back down on the edge of his bed, kneading the sides of his temples. “Is it too much to assume they have her in custody, at least?”

Bastien let out a shaky breath. “About that, sir …  there is something else you need to know.”

______________________________

Riley woke to a cold, dark room, having slept off a good portion of the pain medication she had been given before being wheeled to a room.  A sharp, stabbing pain ran across her head from the now bandaged wound at its side, into her throbbing, swollen eyes. Her shaky hand bounced on her bed, searching earnestly for the call button while she squeezed her eyes shut and willed the agony to go away on its own. A few minutes later, after pressing the button repeatedly, a nurse filed in with the relief she sought. It took longer than she anticipated to feel its effects, but once it finally kicked in, she was able to relax.

A warm flush came over her body, and she lowered the sheet down to her waist to cool off. She was tired still, but couldn’t sleep, and there was nothing to do, but lay there and wait. Wait for what exactly, though? She didn’t know.

Her mind began to wander to Liam and Eliie. She had no idea how she would be able to get to them, to see them, to be able to hold them both in her arms again.  It would undoubtedly be a shock to him, yet in her mind, maybe, just maybe, he knew her well enough to be able to see through outward appearances.

A memory suddenly came to her about visiting a friend in the hospital several years ago. Riley lifted her hand and placed it on top of the tray table that sat next to her bed and rolled its top over her torso. She lifted the lid of the table and was relieved to find precisely what she was looking for.  A small, rectangular mirror was pulled out, and Riley held it in front of her face. Even in the darkness, she was able to turn her head just enough to catch the moonlight shining through the window.

She looked closer, not sure she saw who she actually saw and then gasped. “Oh my god! Amanda?”

Riley was taken aback and couldn’t stop staring at herself in the mirror. Even with the cuts and bruises that littered this face, she couldn’t believe it was her personal assistant who had died so that she could return.

She had considered her a good friend, and they had grown quite close in the weeks before Ellie’s birth and following her delivery. Riley felt a sudden ache in her heart, knowing the hell her friend must have gone through before her soul left her body. It was clear from the wounds that covered her skin and the excruciating rape exam Riley had undergone earlier, Amanda’s ending was brutal and traumatic.

The lights from the hallway suddenly cast brightly into her room and caused Riley to squint her eyes and look away. She placed the mirror on top of the tray, knowing another nurse was most likely coming in to check her vitals. Glancing back at the doorway, that's when she saw his face. Her gleaming, brown eyes widened when it met his wrathful, blue ones.

“Liam!”

“Amanda.”

[langdxn]

salvation part iv: miss mysterious | outpost!michael x fem!reader

SUMMARY: Michael’s pregnant wife hides in the Outpost while the witches battle her husband. Who lives and who dies?

WARNINGS: Fluff, angst, childbirth, breeding kink if you squint, implied deaths and a slight meddle with the original Outpost timeline.

WORD COUNT: 2k

A/N: I’m getting so involved in this timeline, I never want it to end! I’m squeamish and I’ve never had a baby so the childbirth scenes here are nowhere near as graphic as they probably could be, plus I don’t know exactly what happens but I hope it’s understandable. Inspired by Miss Mysterious by Set It Off.

part i // part ii // part iii // part v

“Wh— did that... did that chair ju—“ Brock was cut off by your strained screams of pain, his outstretched hand pointing in disbelief at the door. Trying your hardest to keep his attention before his tiny mind blew up into smithereens, you attempted a distraction.

“Brock, what did you come here for?”

The conversation change snapped his focus back to you, distracting him enough to allow him to drop to a kneel beside the pool, grasping the curved metallic edge for support.

“I—my girlfriend, she came here. She was saved by her family, she got away from the bombs down here. I was supposed to come with her but she left before I could make the plane,” Brock gulped, restraining a tear. “I just wanted her to suffer like I have these past 18 months.”

He raised his shaking hands in front of him, palms laid before him like a book. You noticed small traces of congealed blood splattered up his digits, frantically wiped and smeared so hard it engrained in the inflamed, weary creases. Angry boils and sores littered his knuckles so harshly that you sucked your teeth just thinking about the pain he must be concealing.

“And did she?” You queried, clutching at your bump as a bolt of pain shot through you again.

“I... I don’t think so. She always was a bit of an airhead.” He stifled a dismissive snort, staring into the middle distance with some mislaid purpose. “I thought I’d feel better but I still feel nothing.”

You looked down irreverently, unsure how to conjure up some sympathetic meta philosophy while your body was preparing itself to push out a small human. You settled for raising a small empathic grin at the corner of your lips, raising a dripping hand out of the water to rest on his shoulder.

“Imbeciles! Fall to your knees before the king! Hail Satan!” Ms Mead’s familiar assertive tones bellowed from the corridors outside, prompting a sharp stabbing pain in your pelvic floor as your panicked gaze shot to the source of the pain between your legs. Baby Langdon was just as impatient as her father.

“I—I think I need… I need to start pushing,” you stuttered, grabbing fistfuls of your soaked dress.

“Uh… okay?” His helplessness spilled through every syllable that left his innocent tongue.

“Give me your hand,” you demanded forcefully as you reached out for him, he snatched his hands behind his back.

“I can’t, Y/N, I’m infected,” he cried desperately, terrified his mere presence in the room could harm you and your child. He’d seen every possible outcome of radiation poisoning in the last year and a half, witnessed countless souls meet their end at the hands of mankind’s most malevolent creation. Fathers and daughters, mothers and sons, lovers young and old. All that was left of humanity decimated by the consuming mist.

His protests weren’t enough to stop you grabbing at his sleeve and dragging his hands into yours, curling your soft, dainty fingers over his maimed digits and meeting his gaze reassuringly. The hazel eyes that looked back at you were overwhelmed, a relieved smile creeping across his cheeks. Having spent so long without skin-to-skin contact, a blissful ache flowed through his palms as he felt your smooth skin graze against his.

Suddenly, a deafening explosion reverberated through the Hawthorne corridors, followed by the unmistakable, gut-wrenching thud of a body hitting the hardwood floors with brute force.

“Michael!” You cried out into the ether, your eyes darting to the source of the sound. “He can’t be dead, he can’t be! He’s supposed to be here!” You dug your nails into Brock’s palm as you redirected the strength from your screams to the ache in your pelvis. Your muscles somewhat naturally knew how to help you through your labour but your mind couldn’t wrap around how you planned on pushing this baby out of you.

“Who’s Michael?” Brock asked tentatively as you made another determined push, unsure he would like the answer.

“Our last hope, Brock!” Tears crashed down your face, the heavy armchair at the door sailing across the room as you unleashed all your energy on the next push.

Seconds later, an onslaught of automatic bullets pounded the walls, covering up your bloodcurdling scream at the top of your lungs. Each punishing rattle shook through every atom of you, the water around you flooding red as your folds stretched beyond their means.

As your tight grip enclosed Brock’s hand, a numb feeling chased up his fingers. Looking down at your entwined digits, he watched wide-eyed as the lesions that littered his skin were reducing… no, healing. The angry yellow hues beneath his skin paled, the ferocious blood red sores softened and smoothed out leaving a calm, normal skin surface. His breath hitched in his throat as he attempted to ask you what he was witnessing.

“D—did you just—“ he was cut off by your next anguished cry, quieter than the last without another sound to conceal your agony.

“Did I what?”

“You ju—never mind,” he dismissed as the gravity of the situation finally sunk in. Maybe he could survive the radiation after all. All thanks to this mysterious woman.

———

“Has our little lady shown up yet?”

Michael’s voice boomed from a dark corner as you whipped your head around to find the source. His tousled golden curls emerged from the shadows before him, his pale face bathed in light, dried tear tracks and splatters of blood. As he paced toward the tub, your hazy vision laid upon his pitch black shirt and waistcoat peppered with holes… bullet holes. Panic shot through you like lightning, searching the fabric tears for wounds but finding Michael’s typically flawless skin beneath.

As Michael neared your side, his gaze fell upon your fingers clenched around another anonymous hand. Brock clambered to his feet to step away from the pool and greet him, but the second he straightened up, a strong force threw him to the door and pinned him up against it.

“Stay the fuck away from my wife, you hear me?” Michael hissed, his eyes blown black with rage. All Brock could do was splutter and shake as the force tangled its strength around his throat, gradually closing his airways.

“Michael, let him go,” you spat forcefully at your husband.

“Who the fuck is he?” Michael threw a dismissive gesture in Brock’s direction. “Did he hurt you?”

“Brock saved my fucking life, Michael. If it weren’t for him, I’d be giving birth in the fucking hallway, that’s if the witches hadn’t slaughtered me already. Now let him go!”

Brock slipped to the floor in a heap, gasping for air, his eyes on stalks staring at Michael in abject terror. Your husband stepped suspiciously towards him, dropping to a knee as he reached the poor man’s collapsed form. Leaning in to examine Brock, he raised a curious hand toward the stranger’s face.

“You... you’ve been outside?” Michael stuttered, his gesturing hand tracing invisible paths in the space between them as he inspected the man’s injuries. His behaviour could be mistaken for morbid curiosity but for the solitary tear pricking at his eye, bursting its banks and blazing a searing trail down his cheek, diluting the dried blood splattered there.

“Yes sir,” Brock replied deferentially, trying his hardest to avoid making eye contact with Michael’s void-like irises. “Ever since the bombs hit.”

“The explosion—it didn’t kill you?”

“I was just far enough away from the blast radius, sir.” Brock rubbed at his neck to soothe the burning ache in his throat.

“One of the lucky ones,” Michael asserted, carelessly discarding his words before thinking them through.

“If you say so, Mr...”

“Langdon. Michael Langdon.” Michael’s words caught in his throat as he made an unspoken apology to the stranger for his rough behaviour, stepping back to crouch beside you in the tub. “Thank you, Brock, for looking after Y/N, I can take it from here.”

As the man rose to his feet dusting himself off from the fall, frantic footsteps approached the corridors beyond the door. You turned to Brock, fear washing over your exhausted countenance as you pushed your pelvic muscles letting a low cry escape your lips.

“Brock, they’re coming. Please, distract them, stall them, anything at all, please!” You pleaded breathlessly, battling to keep eye contact with him while grabbing fistfuls of water in some desperate attempt at control. “I’m begging you Brock, please.”

His anguished auburn eyes sunk into their sockets, resigned to his fate. While he didn’t know who or what lay in wait for him beyond the door, it was life or death outside the safety of the room. The months he had spent on the surface of the earth prepared him for death, but the healing hands of this pregnant lady had given him hope. Given him a reason to fight again.

Cautiously stepping back to the pool to retrieve his blood-stained knife, he breathed deeply, contemplatively, resolutely. Looking down at his soft hands, finally free of pain and the vicious wounds that plagued him for months, he tightened his grip on the blade’s handle.

“Thank you, Y/N, thank you for everything,” he smiled at you warmly as his gaze met yours. “Look after her, Michael, she’s a miracle.”

His vision dropping to his shoes, he turned to creak open the door and slowly closed it quietly behind him.

“I should’ve been on that plane!” You heard Brock hiss at the oncoming threats. Desperate cries retorted before you heard a burst of ferocious flames and Brock’s shouts of pain. A final, hollow thud hit the floor and Brock’s voice was gone.

He sacrificed himself. For you. For you, Michael and your baby. A total stranger gave his life for your family.

“Mi—Michael, she’s coming!” You cried helplessly as he offered his hand for you to hold, your wide gaze burned at him with despair as you bawled strained tears and shook your head furiously. “I don’t think I can do this.”

“Never say that, you’ve already done so well baby,” Michael tenderly praised you, gently sweeping sticky strands of hair from your sweat-soaked forehead and curling them behind your ears.

“You’re going to be the best mother this new world will ever see.”

———

“She’s beautiful,” Michael hummed as he clutched your new life in his arms, kneeling beside the pool in which you lay breathless and exhausted, both of you gazing intently at the tiny human wrapped in Michael’s pitch black velvet neckerchief. “Just like her mother.”

“Mhm,” you agreed weakly, losing yourself in the fragile yellow curls clinging to her precious head. “I always hoped she’d be as blonde as her father.”

Michael leaned into you to place a tender peck on your drenched forehead.

“I’m so proud of you, Y/N.”

“Pushing a baby out while there are witches searching the building right now? Piece of cake,” you half-heartedly joked as your husband handed the little girl into your open arms. His heart burst with pride as he watched you carefully take the child into your care, holding her above the bloodied water in the makeshift birthing pool.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” He asked, meeting your loving gaze for the first time in what felt like an eternity since you gave birth to the life you held in your arms, so fragile she could break if you so much as breathed in her direction.

“On three?” He nodded.

One. Two. Three.

“Miriam,” you said together. Sharing a tender giggle between you, you both looked back down at the beautiful baby you named, your glimmer of light in a dark time. She wriggled softly in your arms, blissfully unaware of the chaos surrounding her arrival into this world.

“Their Supreme is weakening, darling, they won’t last much longer,” Michael rested a comforting hand on your shoulder. “We need to get you both safe and as far away from here as possible.”

Straining to your feet while clutching Miriam, you splashed your way out of the birthing pool to stand by your husband.

“Salire per spatium... yes Michael, I know what to do.”

With a quirk of an eyebrow and a grin sealed in the corner of your lips, his wife and child vanished before Michael's eyes.

“What the— Y/N?”

———

Tag team! @codyfernmorelikedaddyfern​ @psychobitchtess​ @theinevitableprophecy​ @leatherduncan​ @abbyjforman​ @melodylangdon​ @shadyrindt​ @hplotrfan​ @littlegirlsdontplaynice​ — I’m so sorry if I’ve missed anybody here, I stupidly lost a few requests for tag lists!

[diyunho]

The Joker x Reader - “Raven”

Y/N is a very unusual metahuman that can use her powerful abilities just once before being turned into a Raven forever; that’s why it’s really strange she decided to sacrifice herself in order to save The Joker’s life. But there’s a reason for everything and maybe the unbreakable curse is nothing more than a blessing in disguise.

“It doesn’t look good,” you hover over The Joker, analyzing the gunshot wound that keeps on bleeding through his green shirt.

“It’s not bad,” he growls, pressing his abdomen.

“Where are you, prick?” someone yells and the echo carries over the words around the abandoned building.

“Do you believe you can escape?” another voice resonates in the vast premises.

“Tick-Tock, Clown!” another man howls in the quietness, certain The King of Gotham has no escape.

“Fuck…,” J tries to get up but he slides back down against the wall.

“I think it’s pretty bad,” you state the obvious. “You’re injured, out of bullets and they are near: your crew won’t find you in time.”

“Shit…,” he groans in pain, the throbbing ache intensifying with each passing moment.

“I’m gonna help you,” Y/N shares her scheme and although the news should make him happy, it doesn’t.

“W-what do you mean?!” The Joker stutters even if he knows the implications of such statement. You’re quiet and he continues: “Why would you do something like that?...”

You smile at his bafflement, the affirmation completely surprising him:

“Because you’re the only one that never asked.”

“You shouldn’t use it on me!” J’s truthful reply is interrupted by the henchmen entering the desolated space where the fallen Prince of Crime has found refuge. “Who am I supposed to talk to if you’re gone?” the genuine question makes you realize there’s actually a soul in this world who’ll miss you.

“We didn’t really talk too much,” you softly chuckle and turn to confront the men halted in their tracks seeing you’re positioned in front of The Joker.

“The freak is here,” a goon whispers loud enough to be heard by the ones arriving behind him.

“Hey Y/N!” their leader detaches from the crowd. “What are you doing here?!”

The lack of an answer combined with the feral expression on your face prompts the mobster to wave his pistol as a sign for truce.

“Let’s not do anything hasty, shall we?... …. Hm?... I’m aware you had so many offers over the years; consider mine again: if you wield your powers to finish the green haired asshole, I will triple the amount of money from the highest bidder!”

You scoff at the absurd idea, describing how stupid you considered the monetary proposals suggested by numerous individuals in the past:

“And what am I supposed to do with the riches once I cease to exist?!”

A bullet shrieks by your ear, ending up in the wall behind where J collapsed a couple of minutes ago.

“Sorry I missed, boss!” the man apologizes and this is enough to set you off; you turn your head to gaze at The Joker, delivering a last warning.

“Close your eyes or you’ll go blind!”

“Don’t let her clap her hands!” the kingpin shouts but it’s too late: a deafening bang fills up the air and the strong light emanating from your body burns J’s closed eyelids. He covers his face with bloody fingers while the screams and smell of torched flesh makes him nauseated; it’s so disgusting he gags yet the insane King can’t help a smirk at the sweet victory, even if comes  with such a heavy price.

Gurgling noises and muffled cries persist for another 15 seconds before they abruptly halt.

“Meet me in dreams,” is Y/N’s final sentence and immediately after the sound of flapping wings queue The Joker to finally open his eyes.

The view is cringe worthy: puddles of steamy, boiling tar scattered all around bearing witness to the consequences of your rage: nobody’s alive anymore except J and the Raven picking at the clothes you wore earlier.

His cell phone goes off and he has difficulty searching the purple jacket for the item he has no need for.

“Sir! We’re coming! Almost on the 32nd street!” Frost reports in a frenzy and The Joker sneers, wheezing from the effort of trying to stay awake.

“Nice timing,” and he hangs up, muttering to himself: ’”Goddamned jerks…”

The bird suddenly flies in his lap, curiously checking him out.

“I think I’m gonna pass out…” the damaged Clown slowly blinks before losing conscience which is alright since he had to speak to you anyway.

Every time you meet in dreams, you are always waiting for him on this deserted, calm beach staring at the waves in the distance. Today is not different.

He takes a sit by the woman that saved his life, silently analyzing her features: The Joker knows he won’t see them again except in this place.

When you said you didn’t speak much, it was true; if he tries to remember the first instance you showed up in his life, the moment blurs out and disappears in the background of his troubled mind. You would just randomly pop up while he was alone, keeping each other company for hours and often barely uttering a sentence. The eerie Y/N preferred J’s presence simply due to his lack of interest in her unusual power and he tolerated her because she never sought any kind of reward from their awkward connection. In the matter of fact, J never even tried to touch you; it was relaxing to be with an individual that plainly didn’t want anything from you whilst the rest of the world begged for attention: how many requested you aid them and manipulate your ability in order to annihilate their enemies? How many promised compensations beyond measure in exchange of your mighty gift? Way too many.

Yet The Joker didn’t care about it; the most he would do was to share his favorite drink after a new brand of grape juice hit the market.

And now the person he shared with was gone forever.

“Your team is almost at the warehouse,” you address him, bending your knees until your chin touches them. “Don’t worry, you’ll be fine.”

“I’m not worried,” J indifferently replies. “Told you it’s not serious.”

You snicker at his stubbornness, pointing out the evident reality:

“That’s why you fainted and started to dream about me?”

Your escort huffs, struggling to confess stuff hard to articulate in these circumstances.

“Thank you for…umm…for…”

“You don’t have to thank me; it was my choice and I fulfilled my destiny. It’s over and I’m free. I’ll still visit, ok?”

“Mister Joker! Sir, can you hear me?” Frost’s voice interrupts J’s dream: the gang is searching the deserted property for their leader and the only thing he notices is The Raven flying in circles above his head.

***********

Three weeks later, 9:37pm

The Joker extends his arm and you land on it, gently digging your claws in his skin for equilibrium.

“Where were you all day?!” he scolds and you caw, evoking complaints from the man that can’t sleep without his bird. “I wish you were a nightingale, this way you can chirp some cute songs.”

You fly on his shoulder to peck at the diamond earring, annoyed at his remark.

“Ouch! Ouch!” he shrugs, but doesn’t chase you away. “I recognize crows appreciate shiny things, but it hurts.”

Poking escalates and J vaguely apologizes on his own terms:

“I meant Raven! Raven!!” he repeats and struts inside The Penthouse where your pillow awaits. “Are you hungry?” the Prince of Crime offers a bunch of crumbs and expensive seeds he ordered for the spunky pest. You hop on the nightstand and play with the food, not particularly captivated by the lavish feast.

The Joker rolls in bed, gesturing for the pillow next to him.

“My girlfriend’s out of town, you can crush on her side of bed,” the affirmation makes you float to her cushion, instantly plucking the fabric with your beak, then jump up and down, cawing some more.

The Clown laughs, entertained at the temper tantrum.

“I know you don’t like her and the feeling is mutual,” he caresses the soft, black feathers as you continue to shred Lara’s pillow. “Stoooop! These are fresh sheets!” he pleads and distracts you by showing his patched up abdomen from under the t-shirt. “Look, my lesion is healing; wanna see?” a corner of the bandage is peeled for the guest to properly inspect the stitches.

Y/N bounces on The Joker’s chest, cautiously examining his wound.

“Cool, huh?” he grins and reaches his hand for the book resting under his pillow, surprisingly enough containing your favorite poem. “The Raven. By Edgar Allan Poe,” J emphasizes and you spread your wings with delight, quickly rushing to his neck and cuddle against the playing cards tattoo.

The King of Gotham holds the book with one hand and pets you with the other, his husky tone recites the verses you love so much.

“Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary…” the beautiful, dark rhyme soothes a tired Y/N scarcely recalling what it means to be human.

Yet being near HIM reminds her on how much she longs for what was lost when she willingly sacrificed herself to save the one that didn’t ask to be saved.

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

Following morning, 8:21 am

The Joker is swimming outside on the terrace and you’re having a blast in the inflatable pool he set by his lounge chair for the enchanted, feathered companion. This is a thousand times extra enjoyable when his new girlfriend is not home!

She’s a complete nutcase, totally obsessed with The Clown and certainly doesn’t understand why he’s paying so much attention to a filthy, gross creature.

Who the hell gets a crow as pet?! Apparently her boyfriend, although he didn’t tell her who you truly are. Why bother? It’s a secret you and J share; nobody has to find out, although plenty of concerned parties would spend a fortune for an update: Y/N hasn’t been spotted recently and it’s troublesome.

“Raven Queen!” J emerges from the pool since he has to take it easy; the doctor said no more than 15 minutes of physical activity every day. “I have a little present,” he yanks at the towel on the lounge chair, unraveling a box full of gold rings, Rolexes and chains under it.

Oh my God, so shiny and sparkly in the morning sun!!!

You fly from your pool straight into the container, happily tapping at the treasures. The Joker dries his body and chitchats with his bird, excited you enjoy the shimmering gems.

“You can steal them and hide them,” he winks and you sure are taking advantage of it as soon as possible. “Do you have a nest?” J inquires and teases afterwards: “Did you find yourself a Raven King?”

That’s pretty rude, you think and swiftly attack him, careful not to scratch his face in the process.

“Cut it out!” The Joker demands and gives up the fight really fast. ”OK, OK, I surrender!” he chuckles as you rise up, gliding in the wind gushing above The Penthouse. The plan is simple: charge at the toxic green locks and pull on the strands, assuring at least two or three hairs will be removed as revenge.  J takes a defensive stance, preparing to catch and keep you captive in the fluffy towel until you calm down.

BANG! the gunshot halts the fun and The Clown Prince of crime watches in horror as The Raven falls to the ground in front of his girlfriend.

“Babe, are you alright?” Lara squeals, kicking the bird at her feet. “I told you having a wild animal as pet it’s an awful idea! I saw the crazy bird attacked you, it might have rabies!!” she kicks you again and the small body convulsing on the hard concrete makes him lose his marbles. “Thank heavens I returned sooner than expected,” the woman explains, nervous to detect the angry Joker stomping towards her.

“What the fuck are you doing??!!” he screams and violently pushes her, slapping the gun out of her hand. Lara stumbles on her own steps, not comprehending why her partner is livid rather than showing gratitude.

“What do you mean?” she gulps and J bends over to pick you up when you let out a cry, the sinister noise resembling a human’s wailing. “The bird was attacking you, I was afraid!”

“It wasn’t attacking me, we were messing around!”

“Messing around?!” the woman mumbles, confused.

“Get a hold of Frost and tell him I need a veterinarian! NOW!!!” The Joker barks as he enters The Penthouse.

“Jesus…,” Lara sniffles and texts, irritated at his behavior. “Why is he so mad about?! The dumb beast is nothing but an outbreak of infection and bacteria!” she maliciously grumbles, sending the message to Jonny.

Something whooshes by her and before she has a chance to see what it is, a bunch of ravens and crows unexpectedly storm at the petrified Lara: they are answering your call, mercilessly tearing and scraping at the enemy.

“J!!! J!!!!” she runs without noticing where she’s going, panicked at the multitude of birds relentlessly chasing her; it’s a miracle she stumbles upon the tiny shed which stores pool supplies and manages to squeeze inside.  

The birds keep on bombarding her temporary hideout as she begs for assistance:

“J !!! J !!!! Please help me!!! J!!!!”

Yet The Joker can’t hear: he raced upstairs to the master bedroom and placed you on the comforter, trying to assess how severe the injuries are; one of the wings is bleeding and there are probably broken bones also.

“Don’t die…” J whispers because it sure seems Y/N is fading away: the bird can barely breathe and for the first time in ages he feels sad. “If you leave, we won’t be able to meet in dreams…”

The King of Gotham crawls in bed, unsure if he should caress you or not; what if he dislocates something else by accident? Instead he kisses the top of your head, the velvety feathers tickling his lips.

The sudden glow radiating from The Raven makes him close his eyes tight: it’s so strong it burns just like when you used your powers to rescue him. It doesn’t last longer than 10 seconds and sensing the light dimmed, J decides to open his eyes. A few black quills still drift in the air and he glares at the tearful Y/N, shocked to see her:

“Everything hurts,” you start sobbing and the bloody arm, plus the bruised torso urge him to cover your naked body with the corner of the quilt. “H-how am I h-here?!” you stammer and grab his thumb while The Joker is in a trance, speechless at the witnessed phenomenon because it’s impossible to come up with a logical reasoning.

Such a shame neither of you realize that even affection coming from a rotten heart can be pure enough to shatter an unbreakable curse.  

 Also read: MASTERLIST

You can follow me in AO3 and Wattpad under the same blog name: DiYunho. 

[thedeevirus]

Dark Crystal AOR Ficlet: ‘Armour’

“Following the Emperor's dismissal of his Podling servants, SkekSil steps up to help his Emperor dress”

Enjoy! If you would like a ficlet drop me an ask!

Added to AO3 Dark Crystal Ficlet Collection

***

The Emperor’s request for someone to help him dress now made complete sense to SkekSil.

SkekSo had made the announcement the day before, having been affronted by his newest Podling slave that morning. It had been unceremoniously dismissed from service (and from the bed chamber’s balcony) for its suicidal insolence. This left the prestigious position open and yet, for some reason, the remaining Podlings were unenthusiastic about filling it.

SkekSil had volunteered for the position immediately, ensuring every Skeksis witnessed his altruism. He endured their vindictive surprise, snide mockery and amusement at his acceptance of such a menial task. As always, they were simply too short sighted to see the big picture. What better way to strengthen his position in the Emperor’s good graces?

But now, the Podling’s gasp of disgust that had reportedly sealed its fate seemed to SkekSil more of an underreaction.

SkekSil wrinkled his nose as he syringed yet another boil. He was careful not to breathe in the miniscule, wisp like purple particles rising from it like dust in sunlight as he emptied the syringe into a waiting flask. The ‘sample’ would be delivered to SkekTek once the Emperor left his quarters. The tools SkekSil was using to collect them were of the Scientist’s own design as were the numerous ointments and unguents lined up neatly on a rack beside them. SkekSil put the syringe down and selected the first jar. He popped it open and applied it to the Emperor’s back. SkekSo gave no sign of any pain even as the oily perfume was slathered onto his various lesions and weeping wounds. It was necessary to disguise the stench of rot that clung to them.

As SkekSil leant down for a better angle, the boil (despite just having been syringed) suddenly vindictively exploded. Milky liquid smacked under his eye, blinding him. There was a smell of stagnant water. SkekSil bit back a surprised squawk of disgust, fearful the Emperor would take umbrage. He risked a check of the Emperor’s face. Thankfully (and insultingly) the Emperor seemed unconcerned. He was lacing up his gloves, attention focused on the sheen of each tiny pearl bedecking the fabric. SkekSil hastily wiped the disgusting ooze away with his handkerchief. Resuming his task, he swallowed hard to conquer the bile rising in his throat. As the Emperor nodded approvingly at his gloves, SkekSil wondered once again if his latest attempt to claw more power for himself had been worth such indignity.

He also wondered if the fruit of the Emperor’s experiments were worth suffering such foulness.

That was another of SkekSil’s little secrets. He knew all about the Emperor’s fascination with the ‘non existent’ Darkening. It delighted him to no end that he alone knew the answer to the question that caused SkekTek no end of sleepless nights; Why was the Emperor weakening faster than the rest of the Skeksis? SkekSil was intrigued by the power the Darkening offered but, as it usually did, self-preservation outweighed his curiosity. Aside from the grotesque physical side effects, SkekSil was also unwilling to face the Emperor’s wrath should he realise someone was privy to his secret.

SkekSil completed applying the unguents and laced up the Emperor’s robe. Once his first layer of garments were secure, the Emperor rose. He swayed slightly with the effort but declined SkekSil’s offered hand with a swift slap. He lifted his arms enabling SkekSil to help him into his overcoat and cape. SkekSil then moved behind him with the back carapace and waited while SkekSo’s secondary arms threaded themselves through the waiting holes. Not for the first time that morning, SkekSil’s gaze was drawn to the wicked looking curved knife nestled in the middle of the other tools on the table nearby.

One ‘tragic accident’ and there would be a new Emperor.

Perhaps he could blame SkekTek, the owner of the tools? The scientist was already in disfavour and was no doubt still licking his wound following his appointment with the Peeper Beetle. But that also placed him in his lab, secluded and sequestered until the essence draining machinery had been repaired.

Perhaps blame a Gelfling? The traitor Rian? Or the captive Gurjin? No, that was ridiculous. It would plunge the castle into disarray if word got out that the Emperor could be felled by such a weak creature.

No matter who SkekSil named as the culprit, there would be questions. Challenges. A mad scramble for the throne. And even if SkekSil miraculously saw off all pretenders, what would stop the others from seeking revenge when (not if) the truth of SkekSo’s demise came to light? The challengers would declare it was for revenge of course. How they would beat their chests and mourn their beloved Emperor SkekSo! But SkekSil and every Skeksis would know the truth. The truth was SkekSil was not popular at court and some, such as SkekUng and SkekVar, would jump at any excuse to silence him forever. But…would they kill him? Could they bring themselves to? Skeksis do not kill Skeksis. But the very Emperor who had created the decree would be dead. The ‘unbreakable’ decree broken and SkekSil would have signed his own death warrant. Setting such a dangerous precedent was not worth the risk.

SkekSil picked up the Emperor’s headpiece from its customary resting place on a sculpt of SkekSo’s head. The Emperor began to straighten his back. SkekSil’s eye twitched at the audible creaking of the protesting bones in the Emperor’s spine. Once the Emperor had negotiated his body to stand at full height, SkekSil reached up and placed the headpiece on SkekSo’s head. He adjusted it, ensuring it stood straight and couldn’t help but notice how the Emperor stood taller than him. Even SkekSil’s withered heart felt a touch of pity at how far the Emperor had physically declined since the beginning. SkekSo had once triumphed in every test of strength and his voice could have towered above a crowd. And yet, mentally he remained unchallenged. If he could inflict such harm upon his own body without batting an eye, what could he do to his enemies?

Yes, perhaps it was better to be the power behind the throne for now, More room to manoeuvre.

As he lowered his head to button the Emperor’s collar, the final task, he gave a start as he realised the Emperor was staring at him. His eyes, pale like chipped ice, regarded him with something akin to amusement.

‘We both know you won’t do it’, he said.

Chamberlain’s eyes dropped. He felt cold sweat begin to drip under his own neck ruff.

‘Apologies my Emperor’, SkekSil wheedled, ‘Such beautiful buttons but so awkward’.

‘Silence’, SkekSo said impatiently, ‘You know what I’m talking about’.

‘Forgive most noble sire but I don’t-‘

‘I said “Silence”!’ the Emperor bellowed.

Chamberlain flinched, lowering his head submissively and wringing his hands contritely as the Emperor continued his tirade.

‘Do not play your pathetic games with me! I see the hunger in your eyes. The thought that one swift strike to my back would be the end of me!’

SkekSil’s eyes widened but before he could protest his innocence, SkekSo had seized him by the neck. SkekSil choked, surprised by the strength of the Emperor’s grip. He struggled to control his breathing, eyes watering. SkekSo leant forward and he seemed to fill the entirety of SkekSil’s blurred vision.

‘Not even the respect to look me in the eyes when you did it!’ SkekSo snarled, spittle flying from his yellowed teeth, ‘Tell me SkekSil, would you wait for my body to cool before snatching the sceptre from my talons?!’

‘Never! Never your majesty!’ SkekSil coughed desperately, ‘You are mistaken! Please! Me-mercy!’

The Emperor considered for a moment then abruptly released the Chamberlain.

‘Perhaps you’re right’, SkekSo mused, all signs of murderous anger gone.

SkekSil gratefully sucked in great mouthfuls of air. The Emperor watched him struggle dispassionately.

‘You would not dare’, he said as if thinking aloud, ‘Such honesty is beyond you. You would have to own your actions and accept the consequences. And that is something you can never do. It is something an Emperor must do’.

‘But-but if venerable Emperor suspects such unthinkable treachery then why allow-‘

‘You to serve me so intimately? Many of the others have asked the same. But your question I will answer’. The Emperor’s beak curled into a cruel smile. ‘Because you, Chamberlain, are the most predictable creature in this castle. You can always be trusted to preserve your own skin above all else. Should you wish for it to remain on your bones, be content with your lot. Some of the others are not’.

Chamberlain’s blood boiled at the truth in the Emperor’s venomous words even as he was forced to accept them. He pushed the anger down, like sheathing a dagger for later use and plastered his usual simpering smile on his face.

‘Only fools would dare oppose or plot against the benevolent SkekSo. I only wish to serve. As I always have’.

He bowed low, beak practically touching his knees. The Emperor gave a low chuckle.

‘And you always will’, he said coldly.

SkekSil rose and SkekSo waved a hand in dismissal.

SkekSil once more lowered his eyes and spread his arms, stepping backwards out of the bedchamber as decorum demanded. He closed the door behind him and touched his neck, feeling the indentations the Emperor’s claws have left in his wrinkled neck. His fingertips came away wet from where they had pricked him. SkekSil glared at the Emperor’s soiled bandages still in his hand, leaking with vile ichor he had dabbed from the Emperor’s body.

‘Ungrateful spit head’, he muttered, casting the rags out of the nearest window.

He froze as he heard a rasping noise. His heart hammered as he braced himself for the Emperor’s onslaught and cursed his foolishness for thinking he would not be heard through the door. But an attack never came. Turning around, SkekSil laid his head against the door. He could hear a thin, wheezing noise from inside.

Carefully creeping to the left side of the door, SkekSil lifted the corner of a decorative tapestry on the wall. A small hole was revealed. Pressing his eye to the hole he had carefully carved into the wall, he peered into the Emperor’s bedchamber.

The Emperor was sitting on his bed, back hunched as he trembled. His breathing was hoarse and laboured. His eyes were closed, no doubt in an attempt to wrest his body back under control. His face was tight and pale, mouth slack as he dribbled. But what SkekSil noticed most of all were the Emperor’s hands. Both clutched his sceptre, the skin on the bony knuckles pale and tense from the strength of his grip.

‘Yes my Emperor’, SkekSil purred to himself, grinning, ‘Chamberlain will serve. For now’.

[dearlazerbunny]

Lie to Me (Ch. 6 of ?)

Pairings: Loki x Reader

Genre/Ratings: M eventually (aiming for a slow burn here); warnings for kidnapping and subsequent anxiety/PTSD (will be marked before every chapter)

Words: 1,060

Summary: If you had to guess what the captured, traitor, trickster god Loki Laufeyson wanted or needed at this moment, a babysitter would be far, far down on the list. (Set after the events of Avengers 1.)

SHOUTOUT TO @molmcb and @jessiejunebug for being actual ANGELS

Requested Tags: @deraniel @iamverity@yasnooshka24@themusingsofmany@dark-night-sky-99 @wegingerangelica

You’re nose-deep in several thick files as you wander your way through SHIELD’s corridors- infinity stones, there’s no mention of anything like that- when someone shoulder-checks you hard enough to send you sprawling. Papers flutter everywhere, covering the hallway in photocopies and sheet protectors, and you make a small noise of dismay- it’s going to take ages to put everything back in order.

“Ah, shit, my bad. I wasn’t looking where I was going. You okay?”

A hand appears in front of you, scarred and calloused, and you take it gratefully as you get to your feet. “No harm done, um…” your eyes widen when you realize it’s Agent Barton who’s standing in front of you. He wears jeans and a hoodie with the sleeves rolled up, his clothes exuding casualness but his posture belying his alertness. “Agent. Sorry about that.”

His eyes sharpen as he gets a look at you- realizing who you are. His gaze is enough to make you take a small step back in anticipation. They don’t call him Hawkeye for nothing. “You.”

“Um… yes?” Carefully, you try to inch your way around him and begin picking up your scattered research. “Did you need something?”

The toe of his boot pins a stack of notes to the ground as you reach for them. You freeze. “What are these?”

“Just some notes I pooled from some colleagues. Nothing especially important.” He stoops to collect the papers in question and scans them briefly. His grip is so tight it crinkles the edges.

“About him.”

You don’t ask who he’s referring to. “Well, yes, but also Thor and Odin and Asgard in general… he’s referenced a few things I don’t recognize so I’m just rereading a few documents to see if I’ve missed anything-”

Agent Barton looks up at you sharply. “Like what?”

“Um-” Something in your chest tells you mentioning this infinity stone- whatever it is- probably wouldn’t be in anyone’s best interest. “Just a few names, places, things like that. I doubt they’re significant, but I like to be, um. Thorough.” Tension is radiating off the man in waves- it feels like he’s holding an arrow at your throat, poised to release his bowstring at any moment. He makes a noncommittal grunt and steps back a few paces, which you take as a sign to finish picking up your stuff. You have no doubt he can tell you’re lying, but based on his demeanor your goal right now is to survive this conversation and live to see another day.

“So he’s talking to you? Fury said the interrogators aren’t getting anything out of him.”

Tread carefully. The cautious voice in your head sounds vaguely like Trickster’s, strangely enough. “Occasionally.”

“About?”

“Just a few things here and there… as I said, I’m cross-referencing it with some studies…”

You’re stalling, and he knows you’re stalling. Barton’s sigh sounds like it weighs a thousand pounds, and the lines in his face sink from crevices to valleys. “Look, kid, I’m not going to be able to help you if you don’t give me anything to work with.”

“Help me?” You stand, folders tucked under your arm. “I’m not sure I understand.”

“You have no idea what you’re dealing with in there. I do.” His words are as haunted as his eyes. “Sooner or later he’s gonna cut you down to nothing and then kick you while you’re still wondering what the hell hit you. He’ll get inside your head and twist everything around until you don’t know which way is up-”

“-I don’t think he’d do that!” You blurt out, unable to stop yourself. His voice is just so… harsh. So sure, like he’s absolutely certain Trickster is going to reduce you to nothing but ashes in a matter of days. Something about it rubs you the wrong way. “I… I don’t think he’d do that.”

“He already has. Multiple times. He killed hundreds of people in two days.”

Well, you can’t argue with that. “Yes, he- he did.”

“And you’re defending him why?”

“I’m not defending him,” you argue. “I’m just… trying to maintain a neutral mentality. It isn’t my place to judge him. That’s not what I’m here for.”

Barton looks at you like you’ve suddenly grown extra limbs. “Then you’re a better man than I’ll ever be.” He pauses. “Or he’s just gotten to you already.”

“‘Gotten to me?’ Agent, please, I believe I’m capable of-”

“I don’t give a shit about what you’re capable of, because I know what he’s capable of. You haven’t seen anything, kid.” The darkness in his voice sends needle pricks down your spine, and for a long moment, the two of you stare at each other as though only one of you will walk away from this conversation. Then Barton looks away, and the spell is broken. “I’ll talk to Fury. Get you put on another assignment.”

“You can’t-”  

“I can, and I will! You think I like being the closest thing we have to an authority on that maniac? On what’s inside his head? I don’t. I’d cut off an arm and a leg not to know those things. But as long as I do I’m sure as hell gonna make sure no one else gets ruined by that psychopath.” His words are poison, and you have no way of avoiding their burn as they trace lesions down your cheeks.

“Clint?” A woman’s voice breaks through the bad taste in your mouth. When you glance at the Black Widow, standing a few feet away, you can see the worry on her face. “You’ve got a three o’clock.”

It’s almost as though strings are cut from his joints- something in him dissipates; his anger dissolves to a simmer. “Right. I’m headed there now.” Both you and Romanov watch him stalk away. You expect something from her- a rebuke, a threat, a warning- but she simply gives you a soft nod and follows the way he went.  

Once they round the corner, you feel you can finally breathe. If you had the courage, you’d say to him, he has just as many scars as you do. I know he does, I see them in his eyes. But you don’t, and so you turn and go the opposite way, trying to get as far away from Barton’s warnings as humanly possible.

A/N: Back on the writing train I believe. Sorry for the delay. Life’s been busy going “let’s make you miserable!” And I’ve been busy going “bitch TRY ME”

[shiningstarsandbrightmoons]

Your Daughter

It’s a funny feeling, going into the hospital once again. You really don’t want to be here.

You take a deep breath as you walk up to the receptionist’s desk. The nurse there gives you a wistful look; she’s familiar with you by now, you come in here every day like clockwork. She greets you warmly, gives you the key to the room you’re visiting and also attaches the warning you’ve had burned into your brain: “Don’t touch her.”

“Got it.” Your voice is sombre, you can’t help it as you walk down the hallway towards the elevator. The tears prick in the corners of your eyes and you try to blink them away, you don’t want her to see that you’ve been crying if she’s awake. She always ignores the fact that she’s the one in the hospital if she catches you crying.

You press the button to go up and as you wait, you pull out your phone. There’s a few new memes, a few messages from friends supporting you, an email or two from work you remind yourself to check later. A ding interrupts you and you look up as the doors of the elevator slide open. A man steps out, pale like a ghost and with eyes so dark they trap yours as you make eye contact. You swallow and manage to rip your gaze away, mumbling an apology as you duck into the elevator. You can feel the man’s eyes on you as the door slides closed, and your skin keeps crawling as you ascend to the fourth floor.

The fourth floor of the hospital is for the patients that need to be keep isolated. But even they need human companionship, it would be cruel to deny them that. That’s one of the reasons you’re allowed up here, but even so you have to cross through the decontamination chamber outside of her room. Outside contaminants could kill her. And you’re definitely not allowed to touch her unless you get dressed up in one of those biohazard suits. She doesn’t like those, she doesn’t like you being in one. She can deal with no hugs and no kisses if it means she doesn’t have to look at you with your face behind a thick plastic shield.

You exit the elevator once it stops. Dead silence fills the hallway, the rooms soundproofed for good reason. Room 1 has a man in it, a man that screams and cries and wails day and night, begging for death. Room 2 has a woman in it, a woman who sits near her window and looks out during the day, then sits in a corner and weeps by night. Room 3, 4, and 5 are empty, though 5 is quarantined, has been for three weeks since the man inside killed himself with a plastic knife.

Room 6 is her room.

You stop outside the thick hermetically sealed doors and swallow. The key in your hand feels like its burning your fingers as you lift it and slot it into the keyhole. Turn it to the left, the light strip above the door flashes from red to green. It slides open and you step into the decontamination chamber. The door slides closed behind you and a hissing sound fills the air. You brace yourself in the nick of time; the icy anti-bacterial spray drenches you and you can’t help but let out an indignant squeak.

It’s soon over and you’re given a powerful blow-dry before the door leading into her room slides open. You steel yourself before you walk in. What’s she going to look like today?

Normal.

She looks normal.

On the pink-quilted bed there sits a little girl, eight years old. She looks up at you and smiles warmly but it chills you to the bone. Her eyes. You’ve noticed her eyes. Oh God what is wrong with her eyes? They’re the same as the eyes of that man getting out of the elevator—

“Hello Mummy!”

Her voice is singsong and cheerful today, and you manage a genuine smile for her as you stride over and sit on the lone chair in the room. You don’t get to say anything as she launches into stories and funny things the nurses have said to her and then she mentions the man—

“Mummy?”

Her tone’s changed, and her little eyebrows are furrowed, her head tilted to the left.

“Yes, dear?”

“Your face changed when I mentioned my new friend. Are you okay, Mummy?”

“I…” You don’t want to lie to her, if she gets angry… you shudder to think about it. “I don’t like the looks of him, sweetie.”

“Have you met him?” she pondered.

You nod. “Met him downstairs, he was getting out of the elevator just as I went to come see you.” You think back to those dark eyes and you shudder. “Yours eyes are like his.”

“Oh, sorry Mummy!” Before your eyes the colour of hers shifted and swirled, turning from that horrendous dark to mimic yours instead. You feel better, but only marginally. “Mummy, he says he’s like me!”

“Like you?” Everyone in this floor of the hospital is like you, sweetie. “How can he walk around… without any sort of protections?” She can’t. She’s been here since birth, since they realised what she was, that she can’t be exposed to the ‘toxicity’ of the world… The others developed it, the lady and the man anyway. The guy who killed himself the other week was born with it too.

“He didn’t say that, but he said I could do it too, only you have to let me out.”

“I can’t do that.” Your words spew out before you even realise you’re saying them. She fixes you with a cold look, and her eyes turn that horrible dark again.

“Why not, Mummy?”

“Because it’s not safe for you outside,” you try to soothe, feeling her anger pressing down on you like the weight of the Earth on your shoulders. “You know you can’t leave this room—”

“Is that what the doctors have told you?” Now her voice is that of an adult woman, wrathful and cruel. “Is that what they told you the first and only time you held me?”

“Your skin burned!” You wailed, her anger becoming too much for you. “It sloughed off and bled, lesions covered you, you couldn’t breathe and—”

“SILENCE!”

Her voice echoes throughout the small chamber and you cannot help but press into the wooden back of the seat. The little girl on the bed stands, shaking, nose flaring as she takes heavy angry breaths. Her fists clench and you catch a glimpse of her fingernails being just a little too sharp. Claws, not fingernails, claws. She takes a step towards you and you scramble from the chair, tipping it over, ignoring the sound it makes as it hits the tile floor and shatters. You make towards the door and all of a sudden she seems to realise—

“Mummy, don’t go…”

Her plea is lost on you. You don’t like making her mad, it terrifies you and just reveals to you what she really is. You’ve been denying it all your life but when she’s angry it’s too hard to ignore the truth.

Your daughter can’t leave the room but you scramble into the decontamination chamber, feeling her eyes on you the whole time, those sombre eyes. If she is exposed to the air her skin sloughs off, lesions dot her face and arms and legs and anywhere not covered by clothing. It’s all because of the man with the dark eyes.

You hate that he came to see her. He comes to see all of them in the end. The man in Room 1, the woman in Room 2, they weren’t born like this.

No.

They’re his children too, in another person’s skin. They were just… incompatible and thusly they suffer as his children do.

It’s only a matter of time before she’s strong enough to take a host.

And when she does, you hope that you’re compatible.

[yokaicanhandleit]

New Message From Liu Tze Long : Look at this when you're alone.~ ;D | (Image Sent)

“Yokai, play relaxing music.” The Japanese operator let out a soft sigh as he walked into his apartment, a fun prototype of his drone hanging to the ceiling as it generally did. He liked to tingle with it, see what Absurd things he could get away with. From the more simple of make it a better version of Alexa to the small drone making R2-D2 noises at times. He didn’t really pay attention to it though, not today as ‘echo’ flopped on his favorite couch... only couch.

A soft sigh escaped his lips as he rested his head, eyes closed as the music just transported him away to a nice war tropi- buzz buzz. Of course, his eyes opened just as a sigh made its way out those soft lips and his hand brough the phone up to his face. The text didn’t really make much sense as Masaru wasn’t used to that type of thing, not really expecting much, the following images taking him by surprise. His face quickly turning red, eyes widening, his heart almost recreating a scene out of predator by bursting out his chest and well his pants suddenly feeling tighter as he sunk into the couch. His body shaking hip almost making a small thrust as an unchecked moan escaped his lips. God why!? His eyes glue to the screen as Masaru started feeling himself, he couldn’t really help it.

His night ending soon after as he grabbed a roll of paper towels, cleaning his lean abs and regretting every second of his life until that moment. God... had he just?

[anincrediblelife-blog]

“Young man, you have cancer…” pt.1

Now that’s one thing that I never thought I’d hear at 24 years old...or...ever, really.

In November 2018, I traveled home to Pennsylvania to spend the Thanksgiving holiday with my family. Months previously, I had started to notice a shift in my health. I was probably at the healthiest I ever was—eating the right foods, exercising, meditating— but then I began getting tired more easily, I was coming down with a cold almost every other week, and I began to notice some lower backpain and a slight cough. Three days after Thanksgiving, I ended up in the emergency room with excruciating back pain to the point of it being debilitating. The cough seemed to be getting worse, and I began to notice blood in my mucus. My first thought was, “maybe I have kidney stones…” A CT scan was done in the ER and a couple hours later the doctor came in and told me that an “innumerable amount of lesions” were seen on the CT in my lungs and throughout my abdomen.

“We think it’s cancer—perhaps lymphoma or a rare type of testicular cancer” he said.

At this point, so many things had started running through my head. “Cancer? How? I’m too young.”

The day after going to the emergency room, I went to get an ultrasound on my testicles. Nothing came back out of the ordinary— I had no lumps, no swelling, nothing—but I was still referred to an oncologist for the following week.

I didn’t have a week. Two days after the ultrasound, I ended up back in the emergency room, this time, I had unbearable back pain and was unable to breath. I was admitted to Nittany Medical Center in State College, PA and over the next week, I would receive ample amounts of fluids, breathing treatments, bloodwork, a biopsy on my lungs, an MRI, and numerous CT scans. By this time, I was unable to breath on my own and was hooked up to an oxygen tank. After receiving some results, Mount Nittany decided that they did not have enough resources for me and so I was transferred to the ICU at Geisinger Medical Center in Danville, PA. My health had rapidly declined within a week.

After four days in the ICU and countless pricks and prods, I was diagnosed with Stage 4 (3C) testicular choriocarcinoma. The cancer had spread to the lymph nodes in my abdomen and up into about 80% my lungs. My Thanksgiving holiday had turned into a nightmare.

Now living in Baltimore, Maryland, I had to decide what to do about treatment. I knew this was life or death at this point and I didn’t have time. Do I stay in PA with my family, or go back home to Maryland and seek treatment at there? Johns Hopkins is just around the corner. To me this was a no-brainer, but my family thought otherwise. Ultimately, I decided to go back to Baltimore and try to set up an oncology appointment with their urology department.

However, once again, I ran out of time and ended up in the emergency room. Just a week after my diagnosis, I returned to the hospital with breathing problems and severe back pain—something that I thought I was able to get under control while at Geisinger. Johns Hopkins hospital admitted me the night I arrived in the emergency room.

Two days later, I started chemotherapy.

December 8, 2018: I started my cocktail of three chemo drugs, known as VIP, along with various nausea meds and painkillers. I spent ten days in the hospital, meeting with numerous doctors, specialists, nurses. The oncologists working with me went over my treatment plan and what to expect. Everything was happening so quickly, I didn’t even have time to comprehend it all. My family was back in PA, my friends here in Baltimore. I was in denial and I surely didn’t know what to do.

Over the next four months, I’d receive three more rounds of VIP chemotherapy, each lasting five days per round with a two week break in between. My hair fell out, my body began to change. I didn’t recognize myself. I was literally losing myself in the process. I tried my best to stay positive, to see the road ahead, and just enjoy life. I visited friends, went to events, and TOTALLY rocked the bald look.

Just after my first round of chemo, I went in for a right radical orchiectomy to remove the affected testicle. The doctors were able to determine that the cancer had developed in my right testicle, metastasized to my lungs and lymph nodes, and had “burned out,” leaving only but a small scarring on the tissue. This explained why I didn’t have a lump, or pain, or swelling—the cancer had literally burned out. My body fight it off, but it was too late. This was a rare occurrence, to say the least—almost as rare as even developing testicular cancer in the first place.

I finished chemotherapy at the end of February 2019. But I wasn’t out of the woods just yet. Although my bloodwork showed improvement and my CT scans were clearing up (which meant the treatment WAS working), I still was showing inflamed lymph nodes and a tumor about the size of a grapefruit in my abdomen.

April 2, 2019: RPLND. 54 lymph nodes were removed from abdomen and a teratoma about the size of a grapefruit was removed.

For the next six months, I began to bounce back. Tumor markers were still falling, lung Mets were shrinking, everything was going my way. Everything was FINALLY falling back into place. I went on a vacation to see friends who now live in Arizona. What a blast! (And it was exactly what I needed after all this).

I finally return to work after being out for almost 8 months. I started getting healthy again. My color was back, my hair was back, my confidence was finally back to life. I joined a kickboxing gym to kick my ass back into shape and really get out some stress. Everything was falling into place.

October 2019: The electric scooter...

Oh that damn electric scooter.

You know those electric scooters popping up all over cities? It became a fun hobby over the summer...so convenient and fun to ride around the town on. In October, I took a tumble one night and really banged my face and head up. I had seriously thought I broke my entire face. For a few days after I started getting really bad headaches. I was certain I had gotten a concussion. Lucky me.

I went to the doctors and a head scan was performed. No hemorrhaging or anything suspicious, just a pretty bumped up noggin. I was free to leave.

A couple days later, I got a notification on my phone that the scan results had been posted on my portal. I took a look. What the doctor didn’t mention to me in the ER that day was that a mass was noticed, most likely a cyst. This obviously caught m attention. Later that week, I had a two month follow up with the oncologist. He said he saw it noted and that we would watch it. We were all pretty certain that it was nothing to worry about.

[trendingtattoo]

Are There Any Advantages To A Temporary Tattoos?

Tattooing is no more an outlandish art. You can easily find people with tattoos in and around your location. In fact, the craze for this peppy artwork has increased worldwide, in the past few decades.

Tattoos are both temporary and permanent. But temporary tattoos do not stay on the body after a certain period.

Whereas, permanent tattoos stays forever on the body. More often than not people prefer to go for permanent tattoos. BUT, there are many who still prefer to get a temporary artwork on their body.

People who go for permanent artwork on their body see it as a way to express themselves aesthetically, because tattoos provide a unique decoration to their bodies.

However, everything comes with pluses and minuses, same is with permanent tattoos. Yeah, getting a permanent ink on your body has certain consequences as well, getting a permanent ink is not a problem but still it is not meant for everybody.

Undoubtedly, permanent tattoos look great, and help one to express him/her as an individual. Still, permanent tattoos are not meant for all, and those who seriously want to flaunt their artwork but can’t go for a permanent tattoo can choose to have temporary tattoos. In fact, there are many advantages of having a temporary tattoo.

Here we go……

Advantages of temporary tattoos

The first and foremost advantage of having a temporary tattoo is – it doesn’t involve use of needles, pricking your skin.

Another advantage of having a temporary tattoo is – you don’t have to go through the level of pain that one goes through while getting a permanent piece of art on his/her body.

Temporary tattoos are a great option for people who do not want to go for something permanent on their body. For instance, you want to have a certain artwork on your body for a specific function or event, you can easily get a temporary tattoo that will vanish in few days. Isn’t it a great idea? Like this you will not require to go for a permanent artwork also and you would be able to do the needful.

Besides, with temporary tattoos you always have the privilege of changing location and design.

You do not have to stick to one tattoo design.

You can in fact have changed design on changed location as and when you want. For instance, you are planning to wear a saree on your sister’s wedding and want to flaunt a beautiful waist tattoo, you can easily have a temporary tattoo etched on your waist for the wedding. What else would you ask for….

People with some skin disorder are supposed to avoid getting permanent tattoos. In such a situation they can choose to go for temporary ones whenever they want to.

People who are allergic to tattoo inks and needles also have the privilege to go for a temporary artwork on their bodies.

Besides, temporary tattoos help you avoid potential health threats that are posed by permanent tattoos.These health threats include: Rashes, Scars, Skin infections caused by bacteria, Infection due to avoidance, Irritated or inflamed skin (dermatitis), Allergic reactions to tattoo ink, serious infections like hepatitis and HIV transmitted through use of non-sterile tattoo needles, Granulomas (small lumps that form around the tattoo), and any other long-term complications, like not being able to have an MRI scan (magnetic resonance imaging) scan, or complications associated to scan, due to metallic dyes and inks.

Temporary tattoos will not stay on your body for a longer period, and you can remove them as and when you want, which is not the case with permanent artworks.

Removing a temporary artwork is no issue, whereas, removing a permanent tattoo involves lot of money.

Temporary tattoos are a good option for people who want to first see how their tattoos will appear when they will go for the permanent one. For instance, if you are planning to go for a permanent tattoo and you have finalized both, the design and location but you are not sure how it will look, then a temporary tattoo can be a great help.

By having a temporary tattoo before getting the permanent one, you can get an exact idea how your permanent ink will look finally.

Last but not least, temporary tattoos do not bring disappointments. For instance, you got a permanent tattoo, but it did not come out the way you wanted it to be. Now what will you do, either you will go with it as it is but with a disappointment or you will want to get rid of it.

Believe you me, getting rid of a permanent tattoo is not an easy task. But in the case of temporary tattoos you don’t have to worry, even if it didn’t come out well, you don’t need to worry as it will go away after a period. Therefore, most people choose to opt for a temporary artwork.

Risks Associated to Temporary Tattoo

As said earlier, everything comes with pluses and minuses. Even temporary tattoos do have some risks associated to it. However, it is a great alternative to a permanent artwork.

Temporary tattoos are either a decal that is transferred to the skin or it is a henna tattoo. A henna tattoo is nothing but a plant-based ink painted or designed onto your skin.

Henna however, is a natural ingredient that creates an orange or brown color. But tattooist may add other ingredients and chemicals to create different colors, such as blue or black in order to give a nice temporary tattoos. These chemicals used in creating temporary tattoo inks can be harmful to your skin that can cause infection or other skin disorder.

Studies show that temporary tattoo tattoos can even have serious and long-lasting side effects, such as loss of pigmentation, raised red weeping lesions, and permanent scarring.

Sometimes temporary tattoo inks contain p-Phenylenediamine, which is also called coal tar or PPD. p-Phenylenediamine is said to cause an allergic reaction in some people. Otherwise also, all temporary inks used commercially by professionals are not guaranteed to be safe for your skin.

AND FINALLY…..

Whether you want to go for a permanent tattoo or for the temporary one, decision should be yours. All you have to see is to get your tattoo at a reputable tattoo studio. Make sure that the tattoo artist uses sterilized needles and has good reviews. Know about the parlor well in advance before you finally step in there. Because once you will get it and if you find it unsatisfactory then removing it will be very difficult. So, it is good to go for a tattooist who is an expert, because for sure you can’t afford to attempt to have a tattoo removed later on.

Therefore, it is essential that you find a tattoo parlor that follows all the norms set by the local health department. Also, see that the tattoo studio has only licensed tattoo artists and is safe and clean as per the standard norms. And if you choose to get a temporary artwork, make sure it is safe and risk free!

Happy Tattooing…… ☺ ☺ Source: trendingtattoo.com

[kristallioness]

Being patient

Summary: An impatient Aang suddenly becomes a patient.

Word count: 2,134

Author's note: This one's a reminder to myself that if writing a fanfic isn't self-indulgent, then what's the point? In other words, I've been trying to relax after 2 very stressful/exhausting months (I'm glad it's over and I feel much more cheerful now). So last Saturday evening, I was simply surfing on the web (doing the things that make me happy/give me pleasure) when at some point before going to bed, I had this idea. The concept of Aang spending time with Suki was inspired by the ongoing "Imbalance" trilogy. Also, I imagined they look exactly like in the "Old Friends" poster.

----------x----------

"..And then Suki punched me right here in the ribs. I felt like I lost my breath for a couple of seconds. She totally caught me off guard!"

Aang proudly pointed at the invisible bruise under his arm. Katara gave him a slightly unimpressed glance, turning her gaze back to the open folder in front of her nose on the desk.

"Well, you should count yourself lucky she didn't break anything. Cause that'd mean more work for me. I'll give you a nice healing session as soon as we get home, okay, sweetie?"

The airbender grinned at that suggestion. He laced his fingers and laid his hands on his belly, his grey eyes staring up at the near-white ceiling of Katara's office.

"I never realized how dangerous sparring can be. Especially with her."

"Are you saying I'm going soft on you?"

He stuttered, one hand coming up to the back of his head to scratch it in an awkward manner as his cheeks turned crimson.

"Umm.. well.. compared to her-err.. I mean, we use bending when we spar. Water can't really knock you breathless."

"Unless I drown you."

Aang gulped at her deadpan reply.

"Good point. Maybe you'd like to spar in a fistfight some time? No bending of any kind, just the two of us against each other, one-on-one?"

Katara giggled.

"It's a fight date."

She turned her attention to the paperwork and continued filling in the last form among that particular patient's file.

Meanwhile, Aang opened the third pill bottle she'd given him earlier, and picked a single tiny, round, yellow vitamin from the inside. This one tasted sour, like lemons, but he liked rolling it around on his tongue until the sweet outer layer melted off.

He put the cap back on and grabbed the other two bottles, swirling them around above him using his special marble trick. He sent them flying across the room with a miniature hurricane and they landed back in their proper cabinet, after which he airbended another slice of wind to shut the cabinet door.

"Are you done sh-oon?" he wondered as he chewed the last vitamin to pieces before swallowing.

"Almost. I just need to fill in this last form. Only a few more lines, I promise."

Aang groaned and bended his knees up to have a look at his bare feet. Apparently, dirty shoes of any kind weren't allowed on the examination table. Taking them off had it perks, such as giving his feet some rest from the constant squeezing, or the chance for his toes to sink into the short, but soft fur of the long, white carpet on the floor.

He could still see the other big bruise on the outside of his right shin, from the time Suki tried to literally sweep him off his feet. He wiggled his toes and had a look around the office. According to Katara, it was supposed to be at room temperature, but his feet felt otherwise.

"Hey, could you hand me a blanket?"

"Blankets are for the bedridden, Aang."

"Well, what am I lying on right now?"

"That's an examination table, not a bed," she insisted in a playful tone. Aang pouted and crossed his arms in annoyance, taking a couple of deep breaths to warm himself up with firebending.

Katara stifled her laughter as she stood up from her armchair and unbuckled her belt, pulling her short-sleeved coat over her head. After she'd tidied up her loose hair, she approached her husband from behind and surprised him by flinging the coat in the air. She let it land on his upper body and her fingers began tickling him as she attempted to tuck him in.

"But my coat isn't for the bedridden. Here you go, sweetie."

Her size was so small that it barely covered his chest and stomach, but Aang appreciated the gesture nonetheless. He gave her a loving smile.

"Thanks, Katara! Mmm, it's still warm!" he claimed, slipping one hand in through the furry collar. She hummed in delight and kissed the arrow tattoo on his forehead, then returned to her desk to finish the paperwork.

The airbender stretched himself and released a loud yawn, folding his arms and resting his hands on the pillow under his head. When he pricked up his ears, he could hear the scratches of her pen against the pieces of paper. The way the armchair rubbed against the rest of her clothes whenever she moved or fidgeted in her seat.

His "bed" was kind of stiff, but much more cosy than what he and the air acolytes were used to sleeping in. He couldn't help it if Katara's office was so quiet and practically begging him to doze off. The silence was killing him and slumber did seem very appealing.

"How much longer?" he asked drowsily, releasing another yawn in the end.

"The more you bother me, the more it'll take."

Aang heeded her advice not to bother her anymore. He simply shut his eyes and waited for sleep to conquer him.

Katara took another five minutes before she happily dropped her pen in the pencil holder and put the papers back between the patient's file. She opened the lower left drawer and placed it between all the rest in correct alphabetical order.

"Done! We can go home now, sweetie."

Her husband didn't budge.

"Aang?" she repeated, slowly getting up from her armchair to check what's wrong since he didn't answer.

Katara sighed in relief once she walked up to him and saw that he'd fallen asleep without her noticing. She couldn't blame him for Suki being such an early bird and having their sparring session so early in the morning that he had to hurry out of the temple just to meet up with her in the city on time.

"Oh, sweetie.."

She perched on the edge of the examination table, steadying herself with one hand. She tenderly stroked his head with the other one before she adjusted his makeshift blanket. He seemed so tranquil that she would've felt guilty for waking him up after making him wait for so long.

Katara noticed the nasty bruise on his shin, which reminded her of the alleged one over his ribs. She stared at the two big pots of clean bending water on either side of the window. If already equipped, why not have the healing session right then and there? After all, what would be a better place for doing it than a healer's office at the hospital?

She summoned a big blob of water and began waterbending it over his body to scan for any more injuries, starting from the soles of his feet. Katara healed Aang's shin and, slowly but thoroughly moving upwards, she detected the impact from the punch on his left side, right above his ribs like he'd described. Luckily, none of the bones seemed to be broken and she was pleased when she couldn't find any more bruises.

She waterbended the remainder of the used water into the sink and got up to go fetch a tin of salve. She smeared it over the bruise on his shin, hoping it'll do the trick and the lesion would disappear within a day or two.

Her fingers ran along the wrinkles of his sash before she spun around to bring the tin back into the cabinet. She wanted to be certain that his lungs weren't injured from the blow either. After she'd washed her hands, Katara stepped over to her desk to grab her stethoscope, then joined Aang on the examination table.

Before taking a seat, she leaned closer to his face and kept her ear near his open mouth for a minute. Outwardly, he didn't seem to have difficulty breathing.

She hopped back up on the bed and put the medical instrument into her ears. Next, she pulled the makeshift blanket down to his waist so she could press the chestpiece against his side to listen. From what she could hear, there was no reason for concern. Apart from the fact that his stomach growled.

"Aww, you poor thing!" Katara murmured to herself. She slid the diaphragm down, a bit closer to the waistband around his middle to check the sounds coming from his empty stomach. If finding food was their biggest problem, she was fine with it.

Aang probably hadn't eaten anything since breakfast. Sparring with Suki in the morning and attending a council meeting with Sokka around noon didn't leave him with much spare time to grab a bite to eat. He'd flown Appa straight to the hospital as soon as the meeting ended, and he'd been there for her to keep her company since.

In order to prolong his nap, Katara decided to listen to his heart too while she was already at it. She tucked the stethoscope under his sash, in hopes of hearing the subtle beats through the fabric of his red vest and the yellow robe underneath. She smiled, the rhythm was as steady and calm as ever.

Her eyes grew wide when suddenly a loud purring sound reached her ears and she couldn't hear his heartbeat properly. He was snoring. Katara released a short giggle since he'd unintentionally managed to scare her so easily. Also, she had an old trick up her sleeve to make him stop.

If she ever woke up in the middle of the night because of Aang's snoring, she'd kiss him. She'd used this trick several times throughout the years. He'd usually kiss her back instinctively or turn on the other side afterwards, which would cease his snoring. At least for a couple of minutes, long enough for her to fall back asleep.

Katara leaned down, close to his face, and tenderly brushed her lips over his own first. Then she pressed them together to kiss him. It was no surprise to her that he stopped snoring and seemed to be returning the kiss through his sleep.

She understood that he was awake when one of his hands came to the nape of her neck to pull her in deeper, and the other one pulled out the earpiece from her right ear.

"Mmpmh.. Katara, what are you doing?"

"Oh, you know.. just checking how healthy you are and finishing your healing session. Did you enjoy your nap?"

"Yeah, I did. You gave me a healing session? While I was sleeping?" the airbender wondered while he rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

"See for yourself," Katara said proudly, patting his right knee. She pulled the other earpiece out of her left ear and placed the stethoscope around her neck while her husband sat up to check her work. Aang believed her story since he could smell the salve a mile away.

"Thank you, Katara! That was really nice of you. And you said you also gave me a checkup?"

"Mhmm," she hummed, nodding in agreement as one of her hands ran down the rubber tube of her second necklace. Her other hand landed on his heart and tenderly stroked his chest near the spot she'd healed.

"What's the diagnosis?"

"A handsome, 22-year-old young man, who had a couple of bruises on his body from today's sparring session with his sister-in-law. Whose breathing is still pretty much as even, controlled and beautiful as an airbender's should be.."

Her compliments were interrupted when his stomach growled again.

"..and who's in danger of dying from hunger. We're not going anywhere until you've had a bite to eat. So that's why, as your healer, I'm prescribing you with 50 grams of hematogen. Wait here!"

Aang didn't say a word and simply watched how she dashed to the other side of her desk, opened a drawer and picked up something. Katara brought him a tiny nutrition bar that reminded him of chocolate. She unwrapped the top of the wrapper and handed it to him, doing the same with her own.

"Eat up!"

She sat next to him to enjoy the light snack together. Aang knew better than to argue with a healer's orders, so he followed her example and began nibbling on the bar of hematogen.

"Mmm! This is really good! What's it made of?"

"Sugar, grape sugar.. uhh, powdered milk, palm oil, vanillin and processed moo-sow blood."

He stopped chewing and nearly wanted to spit it out, but Katara laid her fingers on his mouth to stop him.

"It doesn't contain any real blood. There's this special protein called albumin that's been taken from a moo-sow's blood. Completely safe for vegetarians to eat."

"Oh, okay.. That's good to know. Thanks for explaining, sweetie!"

He kissed her on the cheek, leaving a few crumbs behind. She started laughing when he pecked them off one by one. Their pet name "sweetie" really lived up to its name.

[bradycardicbum]

Internship Diary

I was the only and last intern to have had an extended internship duty, actually an extra month due. I had to deal with it alone. For sure it was depressing and regretful, but at the same time I got to entirely enjoy the journey than that of the last six months. I was still grateful for it, nevertheless.

From witnessing codes and seizures, warding was my favorite. Tiring yet rewarding; I took my time to think and remember the diseases of the patients whom I’ve extracted blood from and had small but meaningful conversations. The ones without any further information are those I couldn’t remember. These were each of the patient’s diseases I’ve listed:

Community acquired pneumonia - 75-year old male patient who was very thin lying on his left side at the ER Pulmonary tuberculosis - 40-year old male patient in the isolation room, he was having hemoptysis aka he was coughing blood lying on the bed and oh he had big antecubital median vein on his right arm Autoimmune hemolytic anemia - This late 40′s female patient seemed healthy and bubbly until I saw her diagnosis. Kawasaki disease - 5-year old male patient in the pediatric ER Henoch schonlein purpura - 6-year old male patient at the pedia ward. I got the chance to converse with the patient’s mother since we both share the same dialect. They were from a town near our place, so they decided to let the patient be admitted to the hospital. But as per the doctor’s request the patient needs to be transferred to a bigger public hospital where nephrologists are in the area. Polycythemia vera Hodgkins lymphoma - This was my last patient from a 16-hour shift on my second to the last day of my extension duty. Non-hodgkins lymphoma - His place was an hour drive away from our town. He was admitted to the ER that night. He was in tears because he was getting tired of his condition and of transferring hospitals; we also share the same dialect. Dengue severe - This patient was eventually admitted from the pediatric ER to PICU. A 9-year old girl who is very giddy and afraid to have another prick; she had oral lesions/manifestations. Chronic kidney disease [Stage 5] - My most unforgettable patient. I couldn’t disclose any information on this one. Right brain infarct - When 2-3am in the morning strikes, vehicular accident victims come rushing in the ER. This time we got this man in restraint since he was moving aggressively all the while being unconscious as we were trying to extract blood from him for further tests. Hours later, he was pronounced dead. Ovarian cancer Obstructive Jaundice - 50-year old female patient admitted in the ER. It got me rushing to the stockroom and get some gloves because of her condition. Even the tiniest prick of HBV-infected blood on a person causes more disease transmission than that of an HIV-infected one. Measles - Due to the limited capacity of the pediatric ER, this 3-year old female patient was admitted outside a tent isolation area since she had measles and it was very communicable. I was able to extract blood from her once, luckily. Pleural effusion; Left chest Post-status thyroidectomy Thyroid cancer Oropharyngeal cancer - This patient is one for the books. He is a 50-year old male patient who had his mouth down to his neck surgically stapled from surgery; had collapsed veins. So we got to extract four times due to the number of tests being requested. Breast cancer Hypothyroidism Hyperthyroidism -  Actually my blockmate who had her monthly check on her thyroid hormone status. Disseminated intravascular coagulation/coagulopathy Chronic myelogenous leukemia - We were trained to be junior pathologists as a punishment for making a fuss during duty hours. We were given slides to be examined and diagnose its disease presented by the microscopic features of the blood smear. Pulmonary embolism Ischemic heart disease Tonic clonic & Absence seizure - Lastly, my most memorable patient. Little did I know she was the patient of Dr. Crush. She was aggressively moving while unconscious so he had to restrain her right arm for me to extract blood from the patient.

This is a very wholesome and memorable experience I have had in my life. I have now appreciated what it’s like to be working in a clinical setting, where we’re not just stuck in a four-walled room with books to read on. We got to interact to patients and their conditions. Looking forward to be able to fulfill my purpose of serving other people soon.

To God be the Glory!