#Surgical terminations

[mariaabortion]

Abortion Pills Mbombela (0769909369)

Get free womb-cleaning tablets. We offers, Abortion Pills in Mbombela (0769909369) hopewomensclinic.com and our Professional doctors and nurses help you pass through this stressful time. We use a safe abortion pill, which for some women, can be a more comfortable method of abortion as you can be in the comfort of your own home. modern and well-equipped primary health care facilities to provide you with a private and safe environment. You have to make the right decision because we believe that this issue is sensitive and confidential. We are proud of our reputation of being a medical and Surgical abortion clinic in Mbombela that treats each patient with distinctive care and respect. We specialize in Medical Abortions and use Clinically approved pills to terminate the pregnancy, Same day, Pain-free without any complications, and our services are carried out by qualified doctors and nurses who make sure everything works out properly and safely. Our affordable Abortion Prices in Mbombela will suit your needs, Students get 25 % off the prices. call us now for Abortion pills in Mbombela. we know the decision to have an abortion is a difficult one. You can buy the abortion pill through our abortion clinic located in Nelspruit. The advantage of medical abortion is that you can avoid having a surgical procedure, and you may go through the process in the comfort of your own home. Many women prefer taking the pills because they will not have to bring a driver with them. This allows them to complete the abortion process without having to involve a friend. The disadvantage of the abortion pill is that it is a slower process that occurs over a few days. Although medication abortion is a highly effective technique, it does have a higher failure rate than surgical abortion. In terms of safety, there is little to no difference between a surgical abortion and a medical abortion pill. Medical Abortion Follow-upAfter your medical abortion, a follow-up visit is very important. You must come in for a post-procedure visit 2 to 3 weeks after the abortion. This is the only way we can be certain that your procedure was successful and that you are no longer pregnant. There is no charge for this visit. The first medicine, known as mifepristone, works to block progesterone. This will make the uterine lining break down and detach from the embryo. The other medicine, Misoprostol, causes the womb to contract and empty the uterus, just like a miscarriage. It is swallowed a day after taking mifepristone. Some states require that the medication be taken in the presence of a professional. What to Expect After Taking The Abortion Pill First off, you have to get an ultrasound from your abortion clinic in Nelspruit to find out just how far along your pregnancy is. Then you will be given the pills with instructions. After taking Misoprostol, the second regimen, you will experience intense cramping and heavy bleeding. You may also experience side effects such as dizziness, abdominal pain, nausea, diarrhea, light lactation, or mild fever. Doctors can prescribe medication for pain and nausea. Your bleeding will make you feel like you are having a heavy menstrual period. Some bodily tissue and blood clots will pass too. When undergoing Medication Abortion in Mbombela, it is advisable to use overnight pads that will be able to absorb all the blood tissue expelled from the body. After four to five hours, the bleeding will begin to subside, but cramping may go on for a day or two. Bleeding and spotting can take longer (up to one or two weeks) whereafter you can get examined to make sure the procedure was successful. Call us today at 0769909369 hopewomensclinic.com

#abortion pills in mbmbela #termination clinic mbombela #surgical abortion clinic

[michelledavis8324]

Compassionate Private Abortion Clinic in London | Well Women Clinic

Well Women Clinic offers discreet and supportive services as a leading private abortion clinic in London. Our dedicated team provides compassionate care and safe options for both surgical and medical termination of pregnancy. With our private clinic for termination of pregnancy, we prioritize your well-being and confidentiality, offering expert guidance and support throughout the process. Trust Well Women Clinic for a safe and respectful environment, ensuring comprehensive care during this sensitive time. Find solace in our commitment to providing a supportive experience for those seeking private abortion services in London.

#private abortion clinic london #private abortion london #abortion clinic london #surgical abortion clinic london #private clinic for termination of pregnancy #private termination of pregnancy #medical termination of pregnancy #safe abortion clinic

[rozeabortion]

Medical Abortion in Pienaar by Roze Abortion Via Flickr: Rose Women's Clinic (0769939069) provides safe and pain-free Medical Abortion in Pienaar, we are here to give you all the information you need to help you make an informed decision. You have 3 options when faced with unplanned pregnancies – abortion, adoption, and parenting. We sell over-the-counter abortion pills for pregnancy termination Those who see it morally allowable to do abortion should be provided with the means to do so & those who don’t believe in abortion should have the choice not to have an abortion. Call us now at 0769939069 0769909369 hopewomensclinic.com Abortion Clinic Pienaar-Abortion is about allowing women the right to make choices about when they want to have children in relation to their age, financial stability & relationship stability. It is not the place of government to legislate against women’s choices. Access to abortion is necessary because contraceptives are not always readily available. The argument against abortion is a moral argument that is subject to personal interpretation so should not be legislated against. Call us now at 0769939069 0769909369 hopewomensclinic.com A medical abortion uses the abortion pill which involves taking a pair of Pills to end the pregnancy. Chemical Abortion Options include using The Abortion Pills in Pienaar Mpumalanga. Without progesterone, the lining of the uterus breaks down and the pregnancy cannot continue to grow. The abortion pill is followed by another medicine, which makes the womb contract, causing cramping and bleeding similar to a miscarriage. Medical abortion procedures are available for terminating a pregnancy and Surgical as well as a second option. Call us now at 0769939069 0769909369 hopewomensclinic.com Surgical abortion in Pienaar involves a minor operation that may be done while you are awake, sedated, or asleep. Surgical Abortion Procedures Mastulu include Manual Vacuum Aspiration, Suction Curettage, D & C (Dilation and Curettage), D & E (Dilation and Evacuation), Saline, Prostaglandin & Hysterotomy The type of surgical abortion procedure used is based on the woman’s stage of pregnancy. Before seeking a surgical abortion procedure, you should obtain a sonogram to determine if the pregnancy is viable (uterine, non-ectopic pregnancy) and for accurate pregnancy dating. Call of us now at 0769939069 0769909369 hopewomensclinic.com

#safe #abortion #clinic #pienaar #termination #pills #pienaa #medical #surgical #flickr

[newsmrl]

मन की बात की 93 वीं कड़ी में PM मोदी का बड़ा ऐलान : चंडीगढ़ एयरपोर्ट का नया नाम होगा भगत सिंह टर्मिनल

मन की बात की 93 वीं कड़ी में PM मोदी का बड़ा ऐलान : चंडीगढ़ एयरपोर्ट का नया नाम होगा भगत सिंह टर्मिनल

DELHI : आकाशवाणी पर प्रसारित मासिक कार्यक्रम मन की बात की 93 वीं कड़ी में पीएम मोदी ने चंडीगढ़ हवाई अड्डे का नाम शहीद भगत सिंह के नाम पर रखने की घोषणा की अपने उन्होंने कहा, मैं चंडीगढ़, पंजाब, हरियाणा और देश के सभी लोगों को इस निर्णय की बहुत-बहुत बधाई देता हूं। उन्होंने कहा जानते हैं क्या है! मैं सिर्फ दो शब्द कहूंगा लेकिन मुझे पता है, आपका जोश चार गुना ज्यादा बढ़ जाएगा। ये दो शब्द हैं- सर्जिकल…

View On WordPress

#Bhagat Singh #Breaking News #Chandigarh Airport #Exclusive News #National Breaking News #Netaji Subhash Chandra Bose #PM Modi #Shaheed Bhagat Singh Terminal #Surgical strike #Todays Breaking News #Todays News #Trending News

[fictionally-driven]

Bruises and Blossoms

Pairing: Jiyan x f! Midnight Rangers reader Word count: 3165 words Trigger warnings: Injuries, mentions of blood, violence, mentions of death. Plot: Jiyan is gravely injured and saved by the resilient and resourceful field medic, (Y/N), whose unwavering dedication and quick thinking catch his eye amidst the chaos of war.

Author Note: I have been writing fics about WuWa characters developing feelings for someone. I could not help but indulge in this after playing WuWa from the past few days. If you liked it, then reblogs are appreciated, Thank you!

The battlefield was a symphony of chaos, the air thick with the metallic tang of blood and the acrid stench of smoke. Tacet Discords, their dark forms swirling like a malevolent storm, descended upon them. Jiyan led his troops into the fray against the looming threat to Jinzhou and Huanglong. His blade cut through the fog on the enemy with lethal precision.

But the Tacet Discords were relentless, their numbers seemingly endless as they swarmed over the battlefield. It felt like an other outbreak was on the verge of breaking through and Jiyan was resolved to quell it before it got to that point. Jiyan fought with all his strength, his heart pounding with adrenaline as he pushed himself beyond his limits to protect his troops from the brunt of the attacks.

Suddenly, amidst the chaos, a joint attack from the Crownless and the Tempest Memphis caught Jiyan off guard. Despite his best efforts, he found himself overwhelmed, his vision blurring as pain seared through his body. Blood filled Jiyan's mouth as he struggled to maintain his footing, his ears ringing with the clamor of battle. But even in the midst of his pain, he refused to yield, his determination unwavering as he faced his enemies head-on. Slaying the crownless, Jiyan collapsed to his knees, trying to catch his breath and recover. Black spots emerged in his vision and he shook his head, trying to remain focused. Amidst the chaos, a familiar voice cut through the din, pulling him back from the brink of darkness.

An on-field medic approached at Jiyan's side "General! focus on me," she urged, her voice firm yet comforting as she assessed his injuries. Her hands moving with practiced precision as she tended to his injuries with the supplies she was carrying. "Let me patch you up."

But Jiyan, his resolve as strong as ever, swatted her hand away. He insisted that he was fine, his voice strained with pain. "There are others who need your help more than I do," he protested, his gaze flickering with concern for his troops. “I’ll be alright.”

Yet the medic, undeterred by Jiyan's protests, remained steadfast in her resolve. "You need medical attention, General," she insisted, her tone leaving no room for argument. "Let me do my job."

"I'm not leaving you like this," She retorted, her tone firm as she continued to patch up Jiyan's injuries. "No man left behind, remember?"

As she outlined Jiyan's injuries in her terminal, recording and transmitting the message to the infirmary, she detailed the extent of his wounds. "He's broken his arm, sustained a deep femoral artery laceration, and has multiple contusions and abrasions," she reported, her voice steady despite the urgency of the situation. "We'll need a transfusion and surgical intervention."

With practiced efficiency, she stabilized Jiyan's broken arm, carefully wrapping it in a makeshift splint to prevent further injury after removing his signature midnight green gardebras. Administering pain medication, she sought to alleviate his discomfort, her hands moving with gentle precision as she worked.

As she wrapped a tourniquet around his open wound to stem the bleeding, she barked commands to the surrounding troops, directing them to cover their path back to the infirmary. "We need a clear path, now!" She pointed to two soldiers. “You two. Cover for me and the general till we make it to the infirmary. Take defense positions at the back.” She then points to another soldier beside them. “You take the front. What? Do I look like I have sprouted two horns? Move. Now!”  With Jiyan's uninjured arm draped around her, she lifted the general up, staggering a bit due to his weight before stabilizing herself.

Despite his delirium from the pain and blood loss, Jiyan couldn't help but notice the warmth of her presence, her lively nature. "You're like a whirlwind, aren't you?" he murmured, his voice laced with admiration as she dragged him towards the relative safety of the infirmary.

Despite the chaos and confusion of the battlefield, Jiyan finds himself drawn to the medic at his side. Was she glowing? He couldn't help but wonder as he struggled to keep up with her brisk pace. How could someone be so beautiful, almost amidst the carnage of war? Though the scent of blood and smoke filled his senses, he could still smell was the antiseptic and medicines that she had used on him, comforting him. As she dragged him towards the infirmary, Jiyan weakly protested against her, insisting that he would be fine. She seemingly ignored his words, only to focus on the task at hand. And in that moment, as he clung to her for support, Jiyan knew that he was in good hands.

Inside the infirmary, the harsh lights made everything seem too bright and painful. Jiyan was gently lowered onto the bed, his muscles screaming in protest with each movement. Through bleary eyes, he watched as the medic busied herself. Jiyan’s eyes fixed on her, noting the blood, his blood, smeared on her skin and on her clavicle. He noticed the small injuries that marred her too. Her hair, disheveled from the chaos, fell out of place from its tie, framing her face. With his uninjured hand, he reached out and tucked a stray strand behind her ear, his touch lingering for a moment. “You are injured too. Make sure to get it patched.”

She glanced at him, a mix of frustration and tenderness in her eyes. "You need to rest, General," she admonished, her voice soft yet firm. "Let us handle the battlefield for now. Your troops need you to recover."

Jiyan managed a weak smile, his vision blurring again. "You... you're quite something," he murmured, his voice trailing off. “What is your name, soldier?”

She stood up, her expression softening as she looked down at him. "And you're quite stubborn," she replied, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. "Take care and recover soon. Your troops have got this, and you need to focus on resting." She wiped his blood off her using a few wet wipes as more medics gathered to tend to the general. “My name is (Y/N).” She said, as the medics began working on treating him.

Jiyan managed a weak smile, his eyelids heavy with exhaustion. "Thank you, (Y/N)." he murmured, his voice barely audible.

"You're welcome," she replied, still smiling. “Let the medics tend to you. I’ll be off now.”

As she turned to leave, her figure was haloed by the harsh light, making her seem almost ethereal. Jiyan watched her go, the scent of antiseptic and the warmth of her presence lingering even as he drifted into unconsciousness.

Days had passed since the chaotic battle, and Jiyan, who transferred to the hospital in Jinzhou city was gradually recovering. His body, still wrapped in bandages and dressings, bore the marks of the intense skirmish. His broken arm was securely cast, the deep laceration on his hip stitched and bandaged, and the myriad of contusions and abrasions were cleaned and dressed. The medics had done their job well, but amidst their care, Jiyan's mind lingered on one thought: the medic who had saved him.

(Y/N), she had said her name was. She hadn't served directly under him before, always stationed at a distant outpost. The recent upheavals had brought many changes to their forces, including her reassignment to the Northern border of Huanglong. He'd learned through her records that she was exemplary, her combat skills and medical background making her a perfect fit for an on-field medic. Jiyan knew he needed to thank her, not just for her skillful treatment, but for her unwavering determination to save his life.

Her image was etched into his mind: her firm yet gentle hands tending to his wounds, her unwavering resolve, and that fleeting moment when he had tucked a stray strand of her hair behind her ear. Despite the pain and blood loss, he remembered the warmth of her presence

The Tacet Discord outbreak from that fateful day had been contained, though at a grave cost. Several lives had been lost, each one a heavy burden on Jiyan's heart. As he regained his strength, he prepared himself for a somber duty he never neglected: honoring the fallen. With a pouch of Emortia seeds in his hand, Jiyan made his way to Knell Square, the hallowed ground where he planted these seeds to commemorate the soldiers who had perished in battle.

Stepping out into the streets of Jinzhou, Jiyan felt a wave of nostalgia wash over him. The city was alive with activity, but he sought solace in the quieter parts. His path took him away from the bustling marketplace, past the familiar landmarks of the city, and towards Knell Square.

As Jiyan approached the square, the familiar sight of Emortia flowers greeted him, their delicate petals swaying gently in the breeze. He paused for a moment, taking in the serenity of the scene, his heart heavy with the names and faces of the comrades he had lost. But then, his gaze caught sight of a solitary figure standing by the flower bed, lost in thought.

(Y/N) stood there, her posture relaxed yet somehow somber. She seemed absorbed in the sight of the flowers; her eyes distant as if she were communing with the spirits of those who had passed. The soft light of the late afternoon cast a gentle glow on her, highlighting the subtle strength and grace that had left such an impression on him.

Jiyan's heart skipped a beat as he watched her. He hadn't expected to run into her here, and the sight of her brought back a flood of memories from the battlefield. He wondered what she was thinking about, what memories or emotions had drawn her to this quiet place. He took a moment to observe her, the way her eyes seemed to soften as she looked at the flowers, the way her hands gently brushed against the petals. He cleared his throat, stepping beside her. "I didn’t expect to run into you in Jinzhou."

(Y/N) turned to him, a gentle smile forming on her lips. "General Jiyan," she greeted, her voice soft. “I see that you are recovering quickly.” She turned back to the flowers. “I was here to collect some personal supplies and stopped by to admire these flowers. They are quite beautiful, aren’t they?”

Jiyan nodded, stepping closer to stand beside her. "They do. Each one represents a life, a sacrifice. It's a way for me to remember and honor them. I plant these seeds for the rangers who lost their lives." he said quietly.

She looked back at the flowers; her expression thoughtful. "These flowers... they carry so many memories…”

There was a moment of silence between them, the weight of their shared losses hanging in the air. Jiyan took a deep breath, summoning the words he had been wanting to say. "Thank you," he began, his voice earnest. "For saving me that day. I owe you, (Y/N)."

(Y/N) waved a hand dismissively, but there was a twinkle in her eye. "I was just doing my duty, General. But next time, let me do my job without fighting back.” There was a hint of frustration in her eyes. “You of all people should know that without a general, the army would have fallen into disarray."

Jiyan felt a pang of sheepishness at her words, but he nodded in acknowledgment. "You're right," he admitted. "I was stubborn. But so were you. Your quick thinking and actions saved me. Your efforts will be formally acknowledged."

A soft chuckle escaped her lips as she shook her head. "No need for formalities, General. Knowing that you're alive and well is enough for me. I don't want praise," (Y/N) said, her voice firm yet soft. "I didn't do it for the recognition. I did it because it's my duty, and I want to be more efficient in that duty. I could have saved more lives that day if I was better."

Jiyan nodded slowly. "I do. It's a heavy burden, knowing lives depend on your actions. But that's also what makes it so important."

(Y/N)'s eyes widened slightly, a spark of recognition flashing in them. "That's right. You were a medic before you became a general. I'd almost forgotten about that."

Jiyan smiled faintly. "It's not something I talk about often, but it's a part of who I am."

She gave him an incredulous look, almost looking offended. “You, of all people, should know better than to resist treatment on the battlefield! Next time, I'll tie you up if I have to."

A chuckle escaped Jiyan before he could stop it, and (Y/N)'s eyes widened in surprise. "Something the matter?" he asked, bemused.

She shook her head, a look of astonishment on her face. "I don't think I've ever heard you chuckle before," she said, her voice filled with wonder. "It suits you more than your usual frown and scowl."

Jiyan was momentarily stunned by her words. He wasn't used to such candid observations about his demeanor. "I suppose I should thank you for that," he said, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

(Y/N) returned his smile, her gaze focused on the sky for a moment, "I'll leave you to your moment with the flowers, General," she said, stepping back to give him space.

As she began to walk away, Jiyan found himself not wanting her to leave just yet. "Wait," he called after her, his voice catching slightly. "Would you... would you help me plant these seeds?"

(Y/N) turned back, her smile widening as she walked back to him. "Of course, General. I'd be honored."

They knelt together by the flower bed, the pouch of Emortia seeds in Jiyan's hand. He handed a few seeds to (Y/N), their fingers brushing lightly. Together, they dug small holes in the soil, carefully placing the seeds within.

"Each seed represents a life," Jiyan said quietly, his voice filled with reverence. "A sacrifice that must never be forgotten."

(Y/N) nodded, her eyes reflecting the same solemn respect. "And each flower that blooms is a reminder of their bravery and our duty to honor them."

They worked in silence for a while, the act of planting the seeds almost meditative. The gentle rustling of the flowers and the distant sounds of the city created a peaceful backdrop to their task.

As they finished planting the last of the seeds, Jiyan looked at (Y/N), admiration evident in his eyes. "Thank you," he said, his voice sincere. "For everything."

(Y/N) smiled, her lively spirit shining through once more. "You're welcome, General. And thank you for your service. We all rely on your strength and leadership."

With the seeds planted, they stood together, taking a moment to appreciate the serene beauty of Knell Square. The Emortia flowers swayed gently in the breeze, their delicate petals a symbol of hope and remembrance.

"I should be going," (Y/N) said softly. "But if you ever need someone to tie you down for treatment again, you know where to find me, General."

Jiyan chuckled, a genuine smile breaking across his face. "I'll keep that in mind," he replied. “And please, call me Jiyan.”

“Jiyan…” She repeated, nodding at him. “Alright then, I’ll do just that.”

As (Y/N) repeated his name, a warm feeling spread through his chest. He didn't want her to leave just yet. There was something about her presence that he found comforting, something that made him want to know more about her.

He recalled Mortefi's words, a dear friend who often chided him for being too stoic and reserved. "You need to put yourself out there, Jiyan. Go on dates, meet new people, relax a little. Stop being a tragic brooding hero all the damn time and go live your life."

Jiyan had never thought he desired companionship. After all, the Jué had entrusted him with a duty, a responsibility that he had always taken seriously. But this woman, (Y/N), had come out of nowhere, stirring feelings within him that he had never felt before. It made him yearn for more and all he wanted was to be the subject of her attention at the moment.

Summoning his courage, Jiyan hesitated for a moment before calling out to her, his voice slightly awkward. "Um, (Y/N), wait!"

She turned back, a curious expression on her face as she regarded him. Jiyan stumbled over his words, his cheeks flushing slightly with embarrassment. At this very moment, he felt as if he would rather fight a horde of the Crownless than speak his mind.  "I, uh, I was wondering if... if it would be alright for us to, um, go out for a nice dinner? And maybe catch a lion dance performance after?"

(Y/N) turned back, a slight smile playing on her lips as she observed Jiyan's flustered state. "Are you asking me out on a date, General?" she teased, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

Jiyan hesitated, first blurting out. “N-no…that’s...” He immediately corrected himself. "I... uh... yes, I suppose I am," he admitted, his voice slightly uncertain. "If... if that's not out of line, I mean. I'm sorry, I should probably let you be..."

(Y/N) giggled, the sound light and musical, easing some of Jiyan's anxiety. "It's endearing to see the General so flustered," she said, her tone gentle and kind. “I’d like to see more of this side of yours, Jiyan.” She met his gaze, still amused. “So yes, I'd like to go on this date if you're still up for it."

Relief flooded through Jiyan, mingled with a newfound sense of excitement. He hadn't expected her to say yes, but now that she had, he couldn't help but feel a surge of happiness. “Yes. It... Its settled then.”

(Y/N) nodded, her smile warm and inviting. "Alright then, Jiyan. When and where?"

Jiyan thought for a moment, his mind racing. "There's a lovely restaurant near the theatre. How about we meet there at seven tonight or is that too soon...?"

"Seven sounds perfect," she agreed. "I'll see you then."

As they exchanged contact information on their terminals, Jiyan's heart thudded in his chest, a mixture of nerves and excitement coursing through him. He watched as (Y/N) took off, her graceful form moving with purpose, and he couldn't help but admire her even more. With a final wave and a cheerful reminder to take care, she disappeared into the bustling city streets, leaving Jiyan standing there with a smile playing on his lips.

His gaze lingered on the spot where she had vanished, the memory of her infectious laughter and warm smile etched into his mind. For a moment, he placed his uninjured hand on top of his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath his palm. Yes, even he, General Jiyan, renowned for his stoicism and unwavering dedication to duty, found himself looking forward to tonight and the possibility of many more nights spent in (Y/N)'s company.

WuWa Masterlist

#lina writes #wuthering waves fic #wuthering waves fanfic #wuthering waves #wuthering waves x reader #jiyan #wuwa jiyan #jiyan wuthering waves #jiyan x reader #jiyan wuwa #wuwa #jiyan oneshot #wuwa fanfic #jiyan fanfic

[vinca-majors]

the best thing about the John Wick films is that this is John at his worst. like... his wife has just died of a terminal illness, so he's already exhausted from that. he is living in a cloud of depressive grief. and that's before the story even starts. the first 3 films span three or so weeks, which he kicks off by being beaten unconscious. from that point forward, he gets stabbed repeatedly, punched everywhere on his body, sliced open, suffocated, thrown through walls, slammed into by multiple vehicles, falls off multiple balconies and rooftops, nearly dies in the desert, barely sleeps if he does at all, and fights his way through a revolving door of back-to-back attacks from gangs and solo fighters. everywhere he goes, an enemy is waiting behind every single door and corner. his dog and his mentor are killed because of their love for him. for the span of three films the man is being held together by surgical thread, pain meds, energy pills, and sheer willpower. multiple characters including john himself note that he's rusty. RUSTY. imagine what he is capable of when well-rested, emotionally stable, in peak physical condition, and undergoing regular training sessions. no wonder the entire criminal underworld is running scared when he comes back on the scene. it's anyone's guess where along the timeline the 4th film is going to pick up, but I hope SO MUCH that we get to see peak John at some point.

#been on a binge!!!! have some thoughts #john wick 4 #john wick #keanu reeves #john wick 2 #john wick chapter 2 #john wick 3 #john wick parabellum

[feminist-space]

"Long COVID has destroyed my life

I would love nothing more than to “finally ignore COVID,” as the headline to Dr. Ashish Jha’s July 31 op-ed reads (“With a few basic steps, most of us can finally ignore COVID”). As a healthy, vaccinated, and recently boosted 35-year-old, I did what he said: I ignored COVID-19 on a weekend trip with friends in September 2022. But the infection I got as a result has all but destroyed my life.

A week after my infection, I began to experience intense fatigue, overwhelming headaches, and cognitive challenges that continue to this day. These symptoms are debilitating: I can no longer work, socialize, or travel. My finances are dire. And if I am unable to avoid another infection, my condition may deteriorate even further.

Jha wrote of long COVID “treatments” being promising. Perhaps he could clarify what treatments he is referring to, because my doctors say that there are no approved treatments for long COVID.

A recent study funded by the NIH’s RECOVER initiative showed that 10 percent of adults infected with COVID still have symptoms six months later, even with vaccination. By downplaying the prevalence and debilitating outcomes of even moderate long COVID, Jha is signing thousands of people up to the misery and despair with which I live every day.

Ezra J. Spier

Oakland, Calif.

Another view from infectious disease doctors

As infectious disease doctors, we disagree with Dr. Jha’s contention that it is time to ignore COVID-19.

Yes, being vaccinated and taking Paxlovid thankfully decrease the risk of severe disease. But only 43 percent of people age 65 and over and only 17 percent of all Americans had received an updated COVID vaccination by May 2023, and access to Paxlovid treatment is inequitable by race and insurance status.

Long-term complications of COVID can be devastating, including after second infections.

More than half a million Americans have died since the summer of 2021, when sufficient vaccine doses were available: COVID death rates in the United States continue to be double those of Canada. Termination of free tests and “commercialization” of medications as implemented by the federal government will only widen our country’s grisly COVID-related health disparities.

Inevitably, ignoring COVID leads to ignoring the slow-motion epidemic of long COVID. Standing up against such neglect, leaders like Boston Mayor Michelle Wu and Governor Maura Healey can promote meaningful measures to protect our communities: air purification in all schools and public spaces; free COVID-preventive masks (KN95 or N95, not surgical masks); tests, vaccines, and Paxlovid for all who cannot afford to buy them; and concern for and support of long COVID victims.

Dr. Julia Koehler

Boston

Dr. Regina LaRocque

Wellesley

We remain vulnerable to long COVID

Ashish Jha’s position as former White House COVID-19 Response Coordinator is a conflict of interest masquerading as a qualification for his op-ed. Researchers who study long COVID stated in a recent paper in Nature Reviews Immunology that “the oncoming burden of long COVID faced by patients, health-care providers, governments and economies is so large as to be unfathomable.” Rapid tests, which are less accurate with recent strains while PCR tests are less available, and low death rates give a false sense of security.

I agree that despite progress, more buildings need the air filtration and ventilation that would make public life safer. But Jha omits our vulnerability to long COVID after even mild infections, its devastating effects, and higher death rates for hospital-acquired COVID-19, combined with a lack of collective protection in health care settings with unmasked, untested people who prefer to ignore COVID-19.

Aside from advocating vaccines, he describes an everyone-for-themselves approach, not mentioning responsibility to protect others or access to essentials.

Jha dines in a restaurant with his friends while patients even in leading cancer hospitals are forced into Russian roulette, thanks to this approach.

Kathryn Nichols

Cambridge

Vigilance is necessary to prevent long COVID

While I understand the desire to promote optimism amid the ongoing pandemic, I am deeply concerned about the potential consequences of downplaying the importance of COVID precautions and the significant risk of long COVID. As a person living with long COVID for the last 16 months despite being vaccinated and boosted, I have experienced post-exertional malaise, fatigue, headaches, joint and muscle pain, cognitive dysfunction, and more symptoms that have continued to today. I have tried numerous medicines, supplements, and even participated in a clinical trial, only to find limited relief from the persistent effects of this virus.

Such a stance overlooks the reality that millions more people could end up with long COVID if we fail to remain vigilant in our efforts to combat the virus. Long COVID is a devastating consequence of this virus, and we cannot rely solely on vaccinations to end the pandemic. Even with widespread vaccination, the risk of contracting long COVID remains high. A recent study funded by the NIH’s RECOVER initiative showed that 10 percent of adults infected with COVID still have symptoms six months later. Minimizing the significance of long COVID not only neglects the suffering of long-haulers but also risks undermining public health efforts to control the spread of the virus.

By raising awareness about the risk of long COVID, media outlets can play a pivotal role in educating the public and promoting continued vigilance. Responsible reporting on the enduring impact of long COVID can serve as a reminder that the pandemic is far from over and that we must remain committed to taking necessary precautions to protect ourselves and others. Highlighting the struggles of long COVID survivors and the lack of proven treatments can spur further research and medical advancements in addressing this condition. Empathy and support for those living with long COVID are essential in paving the way for better understanding, compassionate care, and better health outcomes for everyone as COVID rates increase again this summer.

Travis Hardy

Norwalk, Conn.

Link https://www.bostonglobe.com/2023/08/05/opinion/cant-ignore-long-covid-jha/

#covid #long covid #wear a mask #please wear a mask #the pandemic isn't over

[contentment-of-cats]

More Chiss head canons

Why, yes. I am geeking out.

1: The Chiss came from a 'sleeper ship' that missed its target world around 30,000 years ago after being launched from the Ratukan Empire. The ship spent 3,000 or 4,000 years in transit. The Humans who reached Csilla found not a welcoming world, but a planet that experienced periodic ice ages.

2: The Chiss skin color evolved from minerals in the hydrosphere, and were later found to be a silica-based life form that acted as a symbiont, allowing rapid evolutionary changes. The life form is now extinct, but slotted itself into the genes of the settlers and has remained in Chiss DNA and is outwardly reflected in their iridescent 'freckles' - which are a silicate similar to mica. The freckles will shed from time to time over the course of a Chiss' life. It was debated at the time that this was a sapient life form that was dying out, and 'invaded' the settlers to survive. Others argued that it was a type megavirus or even a hive virus with no sentience. Many settlers died from the 'infection' in a time called 'The Interval' before Ancient Chiss evolved into Modern Chiss about 5,000 years after the founding.

3: The Chiss terraformed Csilla over tens of thousands of years, turning it into a garden world, settling other worlds in the same time period. Before the Intergalactic War where they allied with the Sith, the Chiss governed an empire. After the Intergalactic War and the use of the Starflash along with Ratukan weaponry, the Chiss never terraformed another planet as penance for their sins.

4: Hundreds of Chiss colonies were lost to the warfare that created the Chaos. What is not mentioned in any modern history course is that the Chaos was created deliberately to confound both Sith and Jedi. The Chaos interfered, as as seen in Alliances, with the ability to find other Force users in the Chaos. Palpatine could not find the Sky-walkers until they were taken beyond the borders of the Chaos.

5: Chiss history is heavily redacted. After the Intergalactic War, they changed even their system of writing to make it incomprehensible to outsiders. Cheunh is not allowed to be spoken in the presence of outsiders, and communication instead relies on trade languages like Minnisiat. Meese Caulf, and Sy Bisti.

6: There are Chiss intelligence agents in 'Lesser Space' and even in the Empire and Rebellion itself. Candidates must be smaller than average and undertake extensive surgical remodeling to pass as other species. It includes eye transplants, and only the most dedicated (fanatical) of intelligence officers will undergo the years-long process. The program is top-level clearance, with six people at a time knowing about the program and allowed to read the briefs. The Supreme Admiral, the Supreme General, the UAG Chief, the Speaker of the Syndicure, and two civilians who are kept anonymous.

7: The histories of many planets speaks of blue warriors, or even blue gods who disappeared 5,000 years back. Chiss ruins can be found on Hoth, though nobody can now read the language.

8: There are Chiss who live outside the Ascendancy, descended from exiles and those who fled in other ways. If any Chiss of the Ascendancy happens on the Outlanders, they are instructed to report immediately, detain if possible, terminate in extreme cases only. In some cases, these Outlanders have hundreds of years outside of the Ascendancy and are not keen on going back.

9: Yes, there are a number of women in the CEDF, and nobody would stand in their way. As with Lakinda/Ziinda, it's a way for girls of Common and Lesser families to move up and secure their future outside of making a good match and having children. Blood-born girls like Ziara are heavily pressured not to join.

10: Upon leaving service, Sky-walkers are not encouraged to talk to others about being Sky-walkers, even to other former Sky-walkers. They are largely isolated by the Ruling Families, and pushed to marry within their adoptive or an allied House. Many do marry within their adopting House as it is well-known that the little girls of Ruling Houses are seldom chosen as Sky-walkers.

#chiss ascendancy #chiss #headcanon #thrawn

[anincompletelist]

[ vol i | vol ii | fic rec fridays ]

hi all! :D happy december! I've read so many amazing fics this past month and the tbr list just keeps on growing! I wanted to share some here so they don't get lost in the shuffle!

as always, please remember to leave kudos and a comment if you enjoyed the fic or show support in other ways, and be kind! mind the tags and if you come across something you dislike, please kindly (and quietly) move on.

that said, happy reading and enjoy! <3

in no particular order --

(i would stay forever if you said) don't go | @coffeecatsme | T+ | 6k

The words echo in his head, unbidden. The words from another life, practically another universe, shoved inside the small walls of a gilded cage, hidden in a room in London with shuttered windows and locked doors. A boy’s voice Henry still remembers ten years later, when he doesn’t quite remember what he had for lunch the day before. A boy’s voice on a phone that understood him better than every member of his family, even an ocean, a continent, three thousand miles away. A boy’s voice that told him in no uncertain terms that it was okay if he wasn’t okay, that allowed him to pave a path until he was. To open a new shelter in New York City, Henry needs to interview a host of potential lawyers to hire. He doesn't expect one of them to be the boy that saved his life ten years ago.

(mind the tags!)

a rich and complex tapestry | @everwitch-magiks | E | 8k

When Alex first hooks up with Henry, he's expecting a fun one-night-stand and maybe the occasional booty call. He does not expect to get so completely pulled into Henry’s orbit that it forces him to reevaluate everything he thought he knew about his sexuality. And he's not sure if it makes it better, or way worse, that Henry is actually a professional at all this stuff — what are the odds that Alex would hook up with the one guy on campus who hosts his own radio show about sex? 'Sleeping With Henry' is about to gain one devoted listener.

outta luck to spend | potentiallyunloveable | T+ | 9k

“Nora ignorin’ ya?” a voice says from beside him, and Henry startles, turns to his left, is suddenly frozen. The man who’s slid into the seat next to him, silently, without Henry noticing, is quite possibly the most beautiful man Henry’s ever seen in his life. He’s got the widest smile, sweet dimples, soft brown skin and impossibly long eyelashes. He’s wearing a fucking Stetson, and Henry feels like the wind’s been knocked out of him. Or: Henry (lost, hopeless) meets Alex (bright, hopeful), in a bar in Texas.

(mind the tags!)

everything's growing in our garden | @matherines | T+ | 7k

That night, in the safety of his hotel room on the outskirts of the Olympic Village, Henry couldn’t catch his breath. He coughed and coughed, feeling like he was choking on nothing, but there was a scratching sensation in his throat that he just couldn’t shake – until a single blue petal flew past his lips, landing in the porcelain bowl of the sink. After an hour of painstaking Googling, he learns that it’s a Texas bluebonnet. He also learns what the fact that he’s coughing up petals means – the beginning stages of Hanahaki Disease. Rare, but not unheard of, according to the NHS website he browses in an incognito tab. Common in royal bloodlines (thank you, inbreeding). "Only curable if the afflicted’s love is requited with a declaration," he reads, and slams his laptop closed with a bitter laugh, wet with tears. "A surgical procedure removing the afflicted’s capacity for love may be performed if the love remains unrequited. Otherwise, the condition is terminal." So, then. He has no chance.

ocean waves | seafloor | E | 10k

Henry Fox wakes up with a toothache one morning, and has a lot of feelings about certain things for days afterwards.

while you were sleeping (I fell in love) | @kill8a | M | 3k

As their relationship progresses, Alex notices that Henry’s sleeping habits start to progress as well. Notably, more naps, less insomnia, and a knack for falling asleep at any hour of the day.

So I Will Weather The Storm | @sparklepocalypse | E | 9k

They’re in the air twenty minutes before the next report comes in, this time over their headsets. “Patient is located on the eastern side of Sgòr Gaoith. He reports a sudden snow squall came up, and he lost his footing and took a fall. He’s conscious and reports no major injuries, but he’s stuck on a ledge and can’t make it back to the trail. Patient is wearing a red jacket and a black knit cap and states his name is – ” there’s a burst of static over the radio. “Please repeat the patient’s name,” Henry says into the headset mic as Schlosser programs the mountain’s location into the GPS. There’s a bit more static, and then the dispatcher states, “Alexander Claremont-Diaz.” (Or, a movieverse canon divergent AU wherein Henry is in the RAF and Cakegate still takes place, but the PR campaign doesn't happen – and two months after Cakegate, Alex does something dumb on a mountain in Scotland.)

crawl | ironwords | E | 6k

“Well,” Alex says. He swallows, mouth dry. Closes his eyes, takes the hand not in Henry’s and runs it along his tummy, up and up to his bottom rib and then up over that as well. The skin is soft, but the bones under them are hard, firm under Alex’s palm; his fingers dance over the spaces and grooves, feeling along the edges of bone and dipping into the empty space between. Deep breath: in, out. In again, hold it for a few seconds, then out. Then: “I want to, like. Be in you.” Oh wow. Nice one, Alex. Awesome phrasing. Fucking great job.

'til the walls did crumble and | @ninzied | E | 5k

So much for using the wrong fork at dinner. He’s pretty sure this is a thousand times worse. Hundred-thousand? Nora could give him the exact number. Also, he’s pretty sure there’s still buttercream on his ass. (Or, Alex has his bisexual awakening in a bathroom at Buckingham Palace, and also finds leftover cake in Henry’s hair. The two things are not not related.)

Moon Bride (To Have and To Hold) | satinbirds | M | 7k

When the man is brought before him, it’s as if the whole world stops. Clad in delicate gossamer, his apparent frailty is accentuated by the sheer fabric. It is likely a cheap attempt to entice him, yet it only elicits displeasure from the king. He already wishes to dress this fragile figure in the veil of his people, cover him from invidious and lustful eyes.

It's Called Tact, Fuck-Rag! | @largepeachicedtea | E | 12k

Texas had been an odd choice, some might say. Henry thinks it's perfect. College is a time to go crazy, after all. (A Scream AU)

(mind the tags!)

Aftercare | @whimsymanaged | M | 2k

When Alex has an intense hookup without aftercare, he finds himself on his best friend Henry’s doorstep in desperate need of looking after.

--

that's all for now!! hoping to get some more free time this month to read once I finish up some wips! be kind to one another this holiday season, and happy reading! :D

-- sarah / anincompletelist xx

#fic recs #my fic recs #red white and royal blue #rwrb #rwrb fic recs #red white and royal blue fanfic #firstprince

[piratefalls]

i really did not expect the kind of response these lists are getting. i just do these for fun, but thank you for interacting with them! as always, if you want to be tagged in future lists, just let me know!

with that said, it's wednesday. welcome back to the shit show.

list one. list two. list three.

everything's growing in our garden by matherine

That night, in the safety of his hotel room on the outskirts of the Olympic Village, Henry couldn’t catch his breath. He coughed and coughed, feeling like he was choking on nothing, but there was a scratching sensation in his throat that he just couldn’t shake – until a single blue petal flew past his lips, landing in the porcelain bowl of the sink. After an hour of painstaking Googling, he learns that it’s a Texas bluebonnet. He also learns what the fact that he’s coughing up petals means – the beginning stages of Hanahaki Disease. Rare, but not unheard of, according to the NHS website he browses in an incognito tab. Common in royal bloodlines (thank you, inbreeding). "Only curable if the afflicted’s love is requited with a declaration," he reads, and slams his laptop closed with a bitter laugh, wet with tears. "A surgical procedure removing the afflicted’s capacity for love may be performed if the love remains unrequited. Otherwise, the condition is terminal." So, then. He has no chance.

he is exactly the poem i wanted to write by metacrisis

There is no Turkey in Alex's room this year, but there is a prince. AKA, Henry spends thanksgiving with Alex after the election and reflects on all of his dreams coming true.

(Im)patience is a Virtue by clottedcreamfudge

"Why don't you want to fuck me?" Henry just about manages to avoid spluttering Earl Grey all over the coffee table, but it's a close thing. Alex is staring at him, looking kind of annoyed. "Excuse me?" He's never refused Alex a thing in his whole adult life. Also, he very much wants to do that, but Alex hasn't said anything and usually Henry can't shut him up; he'd assumed Alex would bring it up when he was ready. Which appears to be now.

Handprints in wet cement by kiwiana

“I like learning about all the things that make you you. Especially the sexy parts,” he adds with a grin, and Henry couldn’t contain the laugh that escapes him if he tried. “As long as they’re not, like, bad memories for you, I want to hear about them.” Or, five things Henry learned during his Oxford Slut Phase that he shared with Alex, and one thing they learned together.

best laid plans by rizcriz

Henry knows. He knows Alex is planning a big, extravagant proposal. He shouldn’t know, but he does. He also knows that the ring tucked within his own pocket was purchased long before Alex ever even considered a proposal. Long before either of them should have ever feasibly even considered such ideas as proposals. Alexander Claremont-Diaz, genius that he is, is blissfully unaware of all of that. -- Or, Henry just really wants to be the one to propose, okay?

Soft Shock, Put a Spring in My Step by Mags (sparklepocalypse)

“What, you don’t remember every instant of our torrid fuckathon?” Alex asks, pulling an exaggeratedly offended face. “I am hurt. If I can remember all your middle names, you should be able to remember that time we were so horned up on our new relationship that we managed like, seven positions in a night.”

you know i love a london boy by coffeecatsme

“A very special friendship bracelet,” Bea corrects, with such a delight in her voice that Henry is immediately suspicious. He grabs the darn thing and twists it around, glittery beads shining under the lights of the room. A phone number, if Henry is counting them right. Despite himself, his heart skips a beat. “From the one and only Alexander Claremont-Diaz.” She grins, bouncing on the balls of her feet—the day she stops playing matchmaker for her brother will surely be a cold day in hell. The sole excitement of her life since she doesn’t do romance. Henry twists the bracelet in his hands, counting the numbers again, and then looks up. “Who?” Or, 5 times Alex and Henry keep their relationship a secret and 1 time they don't.

Burnin' Through the Sky by cricketnationrise

This whole thing is Nora’s fault, actually, and he will hold this against her for the rest of their natural lives. Possibly into the next. His personal life is fine. It’s possible he was whining about not having dated anyone since his last boyfriend, but this event is so clearly not going to fix that problem. Or: Alex wasn’t expecting to meet anyone at speed dating, let alone anyone like Henry.

it's (not) the end of the world as we know it by viciouslyqueer

BREAKING NEWS: SHOOTING AT NYC’S GAY CLUB ‘Ritz Bar and Lounge’. June is saying something. He can’t hear her – or anything else for that matter. It’s like his brain decided to shut down and not comprehend anything in front of him. The only thing he’s aware of is a thought at the back of his mind, hitting him with such force it’s all he can focus on – no matter how much it makes his knees give out under him, how his heart feels like it’s being ripped out of his chest and stabbed repeatedly with a sharp knife, cut into a thousand pieces with no possible repair. Henry is in New York. — Actors Alex Claremont-Diaz and Henry Fox meet on the set of ‘Roses, Wisteria, and Royal Bluebells’, and stay friends after filming is over. When a catastrophe happens that tips Alex's world off its axis, he realizes just how deep his feelings for Henry run.

General Incivility by cmere

"Okay, kids, settle down, we're all friends here," Nora cuts in. "And we haven't discussed where the night is going yet. I'm of the personal opinion that we should offer our British guests the quintessential American coming-of-age experience." Alex's eyes widen in what can only be sheer delight. "What, like beer pong?" June says, nose wrinkling. "No," Alex interjects. "Truth or dare." "You read my mind, Alexander." Nora turns to open the mini-fridge. "What would everyone like to drink?" "Henry and I will take vodka if you've got it," Pez says. Henry narrows his eyes at Pez, trying to communicate his alarm, but Pez simply grins back, feral, licking his top teeth.

the conclusion literally any normal human being would come to by chaa_kiao

My [21M] flatmate [20M] gives me forehead kisses when he thinks I'm asleep. How do I ask him to do it when I'm awake, too? ____ Henry and Alex are roommates quarantined together. Henry takes to Reddit when Alex's behavior gets too confusing for him to sort out on his own. Surely this will have zero impact on their completely platonic relationship, right?

all's well that ends well to end up with you by karish

“Fuck, thank you, you’re a lifesaver, Hen,” he says as he closes the small distance between them and places a faint kiss on Henry’s lips. His lips are soft and Alex melts into it for a second before pulling away. He bumps their noses together for good measure before stepping back and grabbing his bag from the chair. When he turns back to look at Henry, he’s still standing still, his eyes wide and his mouth hanging open. Alex can even see a dark flush starting to spread over his face. It looks cute. Alex wishes he could– Oh. Oh shit. Fucking goddamn shit. He just kissed Henry. Fuck.

no sweeter innocence by extasiswings

"Well. Babe. You've been wanting him to dick you down forever, right?" [Or, the one where Alex does, in fact, finally get what he's been waiting for.]

Heartaches and Cupcakes and Sunshine Boys by everwitch

After a public fight involving a little too much cupcake frosting, romance writer Henry Fox must deal with the obsessive speculation that one of his most despicable characters is based on the very successful model turned photographer Alex Claremont-Diaz. Which couldn't be further from the truth. There's a reason for why Henry's love stories are almost always unrequited, immensely emotional yet devoid of any real hope, and that reason is currently vagueing him in a series of scathing tweets that has Henry's publisher calling a crisis meeting. The solution? Henry must rewrite his upcoming sequel in a way that redeems the character in question completely. The problem? Henry's attempt to get away from it all so he can actually write leads to a direct confrontation with Alex himself. After a series of clandestine kitchen encounters, the two of them end up with a very fragile truce. But can you really find friendship, or maybe even more than years of achingly unrequited yearning, when you don't have the courage to let your disguise fall? How do you really tell the difference between fiction, and the truth?

washing machine heart by pissedofsandwich

This time he cannot escape. It's not like the night at the lake, where he can dodge and blame it on mosquitoes, write a stupid note and flee the country. This time Alex keeps him, and he does not let go.

Powerless by floatingaway4

“Do you know what I’ve had to put up with in the last twelve hours?”  Henry wants to point out that in that same twelve hours he’s had his body sliced open and an organ removed, but this doesn’t seem to be the time. He also got to sleep through his experience, while Alex was very much awake while dealing with Henry’s family. And Henry got the nice drugs, while Alex looks like he could use a drink.

Someday We'll Know If Love Can Move a Mountain by allmylovesatonce

The emails were never leaked, but the Queen has forced Alex and Henry apart. Alex believes they're biding their time until they can be together for real. One day at work, he's forced to confront how wrong he is when Henry's engagement is announced. With both of them miserable and neither wanting the wedding to happen, they grapple with how or if they could even stop it. Or even if they should.

"Exclusive Top" My Non-Virgin Ass by QueenKatelynTheAristocrat

"It all started when Henry and Alex were guest judges on RuPaul’s Drag Race..." Also known as: a queen on Drag Race made a joke about how Alex Claremont-Diaz is clearly an exclusive top, and now the internet can't stop talking about it, and Alex can't stop thinking about it, and maybe he kind of feels like he has something to prove. In which, Alex bottoms for the first time. And the entire thing is a beautiful emotional roller-coaster, just like we'd expect from these two.

wondering if there's anything to say at all by dearestalez

It was Alex, and not a motorcycle that had managed to grow opposable thumbs and open their front door. He was untying the laces of his shoes while David snuffled up against him, eager for pats. It was noticeable and honestly quite concerning when Alex pointedly didn’t pet him and instead tiredly pushed him away.

Body Count Baby! by orestespdf

“Okay,” Henry says eventually. “What do you want to know?” Alex raises an eyebrow. A small smile plays on his lips. “Can I ask you anything?” “Within reason, you hellion.” Alex flops back down and grins, a new vigor running through him. He rubs his hands together, clearly thinking hard. When he finally looks back at Henry, his smile has turned mischievous. “Am I the best you’ve ever had? Like, has anyone been better than me?” ----- Henry and Alex talk about how many people they've been with.

shake the glitter off your clothes by demigodbeautiies

It was meant to be a short thing, a fun trip, tacked onto the end of a frankly dull conference in Nevada. But getting drunk in Vegas has the potential to go very, very wrong, in some pretty unexpected ways.

Seven Years by LolaLand (Lola_di_Penates)

Seven different places, seven different timelines, seven different meetings, seven different Decembers. And still, Alex and Henry find each other in every universe.

my heart in a house (half a planet away) by annesbonny

“I miss you.” It’s the first thing Alex says when Henry answers the phone. He gets a soft huff of laughter in response. He can picture the quirk of his perfect brow, in the dim light of his Kensington bedroom. Alex wants to be there to straighten it out with his thumb, and kiss the growing concern away. 5 times Alex misses Henry, and 1 time he realises he doesn't have to miss him anymore.

All the Old Showstoppers by chamel

“Dunno, kinda looks like you know what you’re doing. Are those macarons?” Alex asks incredulously after a little while, and a moment later Henry sees him start slowly approaching out of the corner of his eye. “I didn’t know princes could bake.” “I’d wager not many of them can,” Henry replies as he works, letting one corner of his mouth tug upward. (In a universe where Alex didn’t go to the royal wedding, three years later Alex and Henry find themselves both competing on an episode of The Great Celebrity Bake Off. Will old hostilities lead to disaster, or is there something else causing all that tension in the tent?)

One Number Away by smc_27

“Hello?” a confused sounding voice on the other end of the line says. It is not Pez. Pez doesn’t answer like that. With the fanfare of “my dearest Hazza” or “my sweet prince” or “you absolutely unforgivable scoundrel.” Only the first of these has any root in truth or accuracy. Also, Pez is not American. “I’m sorry. You’re not…Not Pez. Right. I’m sorry.” OR: Henry dials a wrong number. Alex answers.

Screw Your Courage to the Sticking Place (and forget macbeth is a fucking tragedy) by Celaestis

"You don't owe me anything." "Of course I do. If you have time now...there are things I'd like to say." Alex hesitates. "I know I don't have any right to ask you to listen," Henry adds. He sounds so hopeful though. A little closure doesn't sound like a terrible thing. Agreeing to go with Henry, alone, to Kensington Palace sounds like returning to the scene of a crime. It's been over a decade since their breakup - Alex is now a single dad forging his career as a lawyer, and Henry's finally getting the courage to stand up to his grandmother. In finding themselves, can they also find their way back to each other?

A Goddamn Fairytale by toffrox

Henry wants to be angry. He does. He wants to feel it simmering in his chest, wants to be sitting there like Alex is next to him with his eyes smouldering. He wants to be like Bea, pacing the room with her fists clenched, absolutely livid.  "You can't let her do this!" Bea cries. "It's just one tiny part of the day," Henry says with a sigh. "Everything else will be exactly as planned. I'm just not sure it's worth having a big fight over." Bea glares and looks like she's going to rant when Alex cuts in- "Fuck. That." - The Queen makes some uninvited changes to the upcoming Royal Wedding plans, but Alex is determined to give Henry the fairytale wedding he deserves.

the key that unlocked me by railmedaddy

Something sharp presses against his collarbone – the key that Alex wears around his neck – before he rolls his hips and Henry moans. Alex lifts his head and grins. “You like that, sweetheart?” he asks knowingly, rolling his hips again. He’s got his arms braced on either side of Henry’s head, looking down at Henry with dark, sparkling eyes and his mouth curved into a lopsided smile before raking his lower lip through his teeth. Alex’s curls have fallen forward into his face and at this angle, so close, he’s devastating. Instead of answering him, Henry tugs at the chain around Alex’s neck with one hand, pulling him down for a kiss. He gives in, sliding one hand into Henry’s hair as he kisses him deeply, letting Henry take what he needs. or, Berlin, from Henry’s POV

go the distance by indomitablelove

His legs are like jello. He’s not entirely sure how he’s still upright. He’s running on fumes and the energy gel he’d been handed about forty minutes ago by one of the secret service as he’d passed by. Fumes, energy gel pouches, the roar of the crowd against New York streets, and pure adrenaline because he can see the finish line. He knows what’s there: June and Nora and Henry. Henry. The reason Alex is doing this whole damn thing in the first place. --- Alex decides to run a marathon. It's all Henry's fault, really.

making the headlines by stardisnight (athousandrooms), villageidiot

For no other reason than sheer boredom, Alex decides to set up a Google alert for the exact phrase "HRH Prince Henry." When Henry asks why, he quite literally cannot come up with a reason for the decision. He just… wants to. Also: five times Alex overreacted to a Google alert (and one time Henry did)

Captious (calculated to confuse, entrap or entangle in argument by lucky (revolutionbarbie)

“I’m so sorry I’m late.” Alex hadn't intended to be 45-minutes late to his blind date, he really hadn't. Thankfully Henry - broad-shouldered, blond, British and downright beautiful - didn't seem to mind.

and you would be there too by smc_27

It’s mostly dark out here, just the lamp poles in the parking lot casting a warm yellow glow across the packed snow. “We’re closed.” Henry spins around, heart racing, and sees the beautiful man from the café and from earlier at the shops. He cuts a stunning image, swinging one leg over the wooden fence rail and stepping into the parking lot as he pulls a red and black plaid shirt over his shoulders, his tan pants tight enough across his thighs to make Henry blush for noticing.

until next time!

#rwrb #firstprince #red white and royal blue #fic rec #rwrb fic #rwrb rec list

[anachronisticmech]

‘We make toasts with / acetaminophen bought in bulk. Kiss in the airport / terminal through surgical masks.“

-sick4sick, torrin a. greathouse

[ID: A digital drawing of Jon and Martin standing next to and looking lovingly to each other. Jon is a fat, shorter, Bengali, transfemine person with a beard and moustache and long wavy hair that is dark brown and greying. She is very hairy all over, and has scars on her neck, arm, hand, finger, chest, stomach, and leg. She has a bit of top growth, and no signs of bottom surgery. She wears a purple lace, cropped singlet with glasses hanging from the neckline, black feminine underwear, and blue slippers. She is holding a wooden tray with two mugs, a slip of pills, and an orange pill bottle. An ng tube goes into her left nostril, with the iv stand and bag behind her and Martin.

Martin is a fat, taller, Colombian-Polish, transmasculine man with a beard and moustache and mid-length wavy hair that is dark brown, white and greying. He has vitiligo, with patches of pale skin and white hair, pink and red rashes from lupus, and is hairy all over. He wears a grey, fading Garfield shirt, long, fading blue and white striped pyjama pants, and pink and white socks. And square glasses. He is holding a purple bound and his black cane.

In the background the poem ‘sick4sick’ by Torrin a. Greathouse is written in running writing. ID END.]

Read ‘Toasts with Acetaminophen’ here

#this is a love letter to all chronically ill and disabled mag fans. #bat lover art #tma #the magnus archives #jon sims #martin blackwood #jonmartin #tma fanart #the magnus archives fanart #jon sims fanart #martin blackwood fanart #jonmartin fanart #teaholding #the dinghy #jmart #chronic illness

[thefandomlesbian]

So no pressure at all not to answer if you don’t want to. Just if you do know…

*could* House still have his leg amputated? Would it help?

Initial disclaimer: I am not a doctor and I don't claim to be, any misconceptions are my own!

So we know that amputation was originally on the table in 1999/2000 when House initially had his infarction and then brought back into the limelight in 2011 when he committed bathtub butchery. But outside of those two acute incidents, could he have an amputation in the interim?

It's sort of a multipronged question because amputations, particularly above knee amputations (AKA) are pretty involved, risky surgeries. There's a lot of significant vasculature in the thigh that can be difficult to control. The femur in the thigh is the strongest bone in the human body, breaking a healthy adult femur is the equivalent of cracking concrete. Contrary to what House says when he claims surgeons are going to err on the side of "caution" and take his leg to protect themselves from complications, there are a lot of risks involved in taking a ~70 lb limb from the body. Patients after an AKA are 4x more likely to suffer a cardiac event. It's not just about preserving function if at all possible (though that is a concern). AKA is lower risk than, say, allowing a necrotic muscle to continue to rot inside the body, but if a healthy person with a mobility device walks into a surgeon's office and says, "I would like to have my leg amputated because of chronic pain," many surgeons are resoundingly going to say no.

That is especially complicated by House having had an infarction, a blood clot. Muscular infarctions are rare and almost exclusively happen in diabetics, so for House to have had one as a nondiabetic man in his late 30s/early 40s, he probably has something unusual going on in his blood to cause atypical clotting factors. He should be taking bloodthinners to prevent another infarction from occurring. By definition, that makes him a higher risk patient for any surgeon--he comes off the bloodthinners for surgery, putting him at risk for another infarction, or he doesn't and he's now at risk for hemorrhage.

Add to the equation that House is American in the world run by insurance--no insurance company is going to approve an amputation in a guy who's walking with a cane. Some would probably try to slide it by as a cosmetic/elective surgery to escape any financial responsibility, so he'd be looking at around $50,000 out the gate for surgery alone.

But the question will it help? is one that... really can't be answered. Again, contrary to what the canon displays, phantom limb pain is seldom easily fixed and can become chronic, plus the physiology is extremely poorly understood, so it's much more difficult to treat than standard acute or chronic pain. There's a pretty good chance that, with time and healing after amputation, House would have a fairly normal, pain-free existence, given he'll always be disabled and he'll face the struggles of using a prosthetic/walker/crutches/whatever mobility aid he chooses. There's also a chance that he could continue to live in chronic pain, now less treatable, while healing a surgical incision and learning how to walk again. It could fall either way. (And potential complications, ie a second infarction, cardiac event, no limitations, there's a lot to work with.)

All of that said--this is just in terms of my experience and limited knowledge. I think amputee!House is something that should be explored more often in fandom, from all sides of the equation (1999, 2011, favorable outcomes, unfavorable outcomes). It's worth mentioning that within the scope of the House MD universe, House does believe that he would be a happier person in less pain if he had had his leg amputated.

In terms of fanworks, anything goes! (I mean I literally wrote a soliloquy on how/why Wilson's cancer is considered terminal while simultaneously writing my WilsonLives!AU, so it's safe to say we should all be comfortable hurling realism in the toilet for the sake of Fix It FanFiction.) There are no rules, medicine as we know it doesn't exist, you can do Whatever You Want for the sake of the narrative.

#spencer speaks #house md #hate crimes md #hatecrimes md #gregory house #hugh laurie

[anamericangirl]

"Ectopic pregnancies are not treated with abortions." Except you're wrong and they are. Any medical procedure that terminates a pregnancy is an abortion. The literal medical definition of an abortion is "a medical procedure that results in the termination or end of a pregnancy". Both medicinal and surgical methods of treating ectopic pregnancies are LITERALLY, BY THE DEFINITION OF THE WORD ABORTION, abortions.

So Planned Parenthood is wrong when they say treating an ectopic pregnancy is not the same thing as an abortion?

#anon #answered

[ladytauria]

44 with timdami? if the muse strikes~

the muse struck and struck hard. this ended up about 2k words XD

my brain went "terminal illness? oh! hanahaki 😌" so i hope that's okay <3

there is also not really a... resolution to this. i debated between happy and sad, but, as the words kept coming... i ultimately ended up going open instead <3

thank you for the prompt!

Tim coughs up the first petals on a Sunday afternoon.

He’s sitting outside—Dr Thompkins says he needs more vitamin D, and despite what the others might think, Tim does try to stay on top of his health. Damian is sitting outside too; though not on the porch where Tim is. Instead, he’s sitting under a tree, sketchbook balanced on his knees and Titus lying by his side.

Dappled sunlight dances on his skin, and Tim’s fingers itch for his camera.

Then his throat itches too; diaphragm spasming as he coughs into his arm. Something flutters in his throat; on his tongue. He worries for a moment he’s coughing up phlegm—and then he tastes something… sweet. Floral.

He thinks. He might have preferred the phlegm.

After a quick glance to make sure no one sees, he spits the petals into a napkin. They were likely a bright, vibrant white before they sat in his mouth. A few speckles of blood dot them; vivid even with the darkening of their color.

Tim crumples the napkin, crushing them within.

Then he tucks it into his pocket, takes the rest of his tea, and heads inside.

~

The petals don’t stop coming.

Of course they don’t. Once they start— It’s hard to get rid of them. Tim knows that.

It’s inconvenient anyway.

Even more inconvenient is the way that suddenly, Damian is everywhere, just when Tim wants to avoid him most. Or doesn’t, he supposes, because… he never seems to excuse himself. Not until the coughing starts, anyway, and then he finds a way to leave without calling too much attention to himself.

It’s only a matter of time before one of the others notices something is wrong. They’re all too damn nosy and observant by far—something Tim appreciates when it comes to solving a case, not so much when it comes to butting in his personal life.

It’s also harder to lie to them. Not impossible. Tim’s done it enough that he knows just how to do it best; what each of them needs to hear to make them believe it. He’s practically an expert.

This, though.

It’s harder to conceal.

Especially as the tickle in his throat grows more frequent, his chest growing tighter. The petals get larger, too. It won’t be long before flowers form. As soon as that happens—

Tim will have to disappear.

Oh—sure. He could confess. The flowers in him will wither and die without that built-up longing to cling to. But—

He would have to leave anyway, wouldn’t he? He doesn’t think he could stand it, working day in and day out with him after a rejection. Doesn’t want that cloud hanging over any of them—or to put Damian in that position in the first place. Sure; rejection won’t kill him, that’s a myth, but. For Damian to know that Tim’s feelings ran deep enough that they had taken root and bloomed within him—?

Tim can think of many ways to describe Damian, not all of them flattering, but— Cruel isn’t one of them. Not anymore.

He might accept Tim’s confession in some misplaced kindness—out of pity, and that— Would be worse than any rejection could be, actually.

So no. Either way, Tim has to disappear. At least this way his dignity will be intact.

He always figured he’d have a short life. Granted, the method of death he pictured was different, but— well. Actually. With Ivy around, asphyxiation by flower isn’t really that different from something he could have faced as Red Robin.

There is also the surgical option, too—but Tim would rather die than become unfeeling. While some claimed that the surgery caused only dulled feelings, especially with modern technology, there isn’t enough information for him to be willing to take the risk.

Leaving is best, then. For everyone.

~

Tim does not have as many contingency plans as Bruce—but he comes a close second. Among them, there are many plans for disappearing and starting over somewhere new.

Picking one is the hardest part.

From there? Smooth sailing.

He quietly divides his cases between the others. Some, he offers outright. Others, those less pertinent, he quietly slips onto their systems, as if they had always been there. He does the same with his patrol route.

Tim works with Babs fairly often these days—especially with the blooms growing larger; the coughs more frequent. He blames it on the changing weather, and Oracle is happy enough to have an additional pair of hands. Tim exploits access to her system to make subtle tweaks to everyone’s patrols until his is virtually non-existent.

He also packs. Lightly, of course; just a few things to look at, to reminisce about the past in his dying days. 

He has a will, and some pre-recorded messages. He shortens the period of inactivity which will automatically send them; tweaks the messages a bit; and moves on.

Tim allows himself a few indulgences, too—spending more time with the others, not skipping group meals, taking more time off of work. He knows it raises a few eyebrows, but— Tim is practiced at explaining his oddities away.

All in all, it’s quite easy.

And when the time comes—

He disappears, quietly; into the dawning light, when everyone else is tucked into bed. When the city—never truly sleeping—is beginning to bustle again.

Tim burst into their lives with a bang.

He steps out of them without even a whimper.

~

Damian is the first to realize that Drake is missing.

He wishes he could say it was because he noticed—but he cannot. He discovers it when he pays a visit to Drake’s theater penthouse, and finds it empty and cold. Devoid of life.

His home has always been somewhat austere… but this is different.

Damian knows that something is wrong. He is—afraid. He texts the others immediately, asking them when the last time they heard from Drake was. It does not take them long to realize that Drake’s disappearance is unrelated to their vigilante lives; that, for all intents and purposes, it seems to be willing. Which meant— there must have been signs. Damian turns through his memories with a growing sense of desperation.

Drake is—

Complicated.

Their initial relationship was fraught. Damian will take the larger share of blame for that. When he did, eventually, somewhat reluctantly, get to know Drake—it. Changed. He gravitated towards the older man, and his perspective; often unique from either his Father or Richard. He found him a good listener, too, and while he could be dismissive—Damian’s words usually held weight to him.

It—

Was nice.

Up until Drake’s presence started to make his insides squirm. Until he found himself with ears pricked for compliments from Drake. Until he found himself gravitating to Drake’s presence—choosing to take patrols with him even when Richard was in town.

Until he spoke to Jon and realized he had all the symptoms of a schoolboy crush.

He placed distance between them, then. It wasn’t hard, though it hurt when Drake did not appear to notice beyond a few things. But it was better than facing heartbreak.

And then—

Drake drew closer.

Damian kept his distance.

Now… Regret coats his tongue in ash. If he had not pulled away… might he have noticed sooner? Might he have been able to stop whatever caused Drake to disappear?

There is no sense in ruminating on it.

The important thing is to find Drake.

With Oracle in his ear, Damian makes his way to Tim’s Perch. Logging into his computer, even with Oracle’s aid, is generally a tedious affair.

This time it is not.

He can tell by the way Gordon quiets that she likes this no more than he does.

Drake’s face appears on the screen. He looks paler. The circles around his eyes are darker. He sits in the same chair Damian sits in now, wearing civilian clothes. Something comfortable—a t-shirt that should have been thrown out years ago, a pair of leggings that conform beautifully to the curves of his legs.

“If you’re watching this,” he says, “you’ve noticed I’m gone.”

Damian’s fingers itch to pause the recording.

He does not.

“I’m sorry. I know it’s…” Drake’s face scrunches. “...shitty of me to disappear without notice like this. I promise you it was for the best.” He pauses. He looks—almost hesitant.

Damian does not want to hear what he has to say next.

He keeps listening anyway.

“I’m dying.”

Damian’s heart falls to his feet. He thinks he hears it shatter there—a silly, poetic notion brought on by reading too many of Todd’s recommendations, he’s sure, but nonetheless. Blood roars in his ears. He hears little of what Drake says next. Something about pre-recorded messages, spaced out by time, and easily accessed by Gordon.

When Gordon directs him, Damian lets her instructions carry him through.

He sends the messages; all sent to personal devices, save for a few directly to the Batcomputer. And then he makes his way back to the manor. The trip is a blur. He realizes, only when he is seated on the couch, strange looks sent his way, that he has taken a blanket from Drake’s apartment. It is a fluffy purple abomination—a gift from Brown, he’s sure. Rather than explain himself, or tuck it away, Damian unfolds it over his lap; stroking it the same way he does Alfred, when he deigns Damian’s lap a better place to sit than a patch of sun or soft cushion.

Richard’s arm settles around his shoulders, tucking him into his side as if Damian is still small. Normally he would bristle; especially since he is half a head taller than Richard himself. Today he settles without argument, letting the solid presence of his older brother be a comfort.

Brown leans against the back of the couch. Her fingers comb through his hair. He does not fight this either.

Instead he listens.

Gordon has accessed his medical records; a liberty she normally does not take. He has been diagnosed with no terminal illnesses across most of his aliases.

“Most?” Richard asks.

Gordon’s mouth pinches. “There is one. I don’t think Tim knows I know about it—though I wouldn’t rule it out. He went to a clinic in Boston, and was diagnosed with Hanahaki. He picked up medicine, then bought a bus ticket. After that, I believe he shed that identity. I haven’t been able to pick his trail back up… yet.” Gordon says ‘yet’ with such certainty, Damian believes her.

“Hanahaki…” Jason repeats. He swipes a hand down his face. “Fucking figures. One of us would be too emotionally constipated to just get over it and confess, wouldn’t we?”

Damian frowns. He pulls away from Richard’s side, Brown’s fingers slipping from his hair. “Drake left— because he was a coward?”

The words are vile and bitter on his tongue. It is an unpleasant feeling that does not even come close to touching the fire in his chest. There are two cures for the disease of love—

The first, to confess. Face rejection, or reciprocation. Allow yourself, your feelings, to be known.

The second, to have the blooms removed, and risk dulling or losing the ability to feel forever.

To choose death—

“Damian, that’s not—”

“Quiet,” he snaps. He stands, thrusting the blanket at Richard, who takes it with startled eyes. “I am going to find him, and then I am going to wring his neck.” He spins on his heel and stalks out of the room.

How dare he. How dare he.

Damian does not think he has ever been angrier. Drake, who has more audacity and daring and stubbornness than anyone Damian has ever met—who’s passion and conviction and love has held this pseudo-family together even when they were separated by the eons of time—would rather disappear, leave them all to mourn instead of swallow his foolish pride and let someone—someone with whom he has fallen in love—to see the truth of him.

Damian will find him, and his object of affection, and he will tear the words from Drake’s throat if need be.

He does not get to die.

Not like this.

#asks and answers #felinemotif #damitim #timdami #dcu #tauriawritesfanfic #thank u for the prompt!! this was fun :)

[skippyv20]

Hi Skippy, I just wanted to let you and other Tumblrs who pray for others on the Prayer List know that we have a miracle all thanks to your prayers and to God.

I have been visiting a lady with terminal bowel cancer along with her cousin when we are able and praying with her on a pretty regular basis for months now. She was diagnosed as terminally ill with bowel cancer and tumours had spread to her liver

So I also asked you to put her on your prayer list and reblogs for prayers.

Well today her cousin texted me to tell me that her secondary tumour in her liver has shrunk so they can now perform surgery at a hospital not too many miles away which has a specialist liver unit and surgically remove the tumour from her liver

I wanted to let you and other Tumblrs know that this is most definitely a miracle as her immunotherapy and chemotherapy treatments for one reason or the other have been suspended so it must by prayers to God.

She is 70 at the end of the month and this is the best ever present and proof that God's love and power can indeed perform miracles. Thank you @skippyv20 and everyone for your love and prayers

🙏💜✝️🐼😘

This is such wonderful news! A miracle for sure! God is amazing. I am so happy for her. Also, I am so happy for you and her cousin. I know both of you have been so supportive of her, and no doubt your love gave her strength as well! God Bless you all! Thanks so much for letting us know!🙏🏻❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

[crippled-peeper]

it it okay to ask why your type of quadriplegia is terminal as opposed to other types where people can live a long time with adequate support?

It’s not the paralysis alone that makes my life shorter, that’s just a part of it and a contributing factor. Many quadriplegics do actually eventually die from complications of their conditions - the biggest causes of mortality being infection, pneumonia, and suicide in that order

My particular condition doesn’t have a name - or rather it’s a combination of MANY differently named conditions.

I have rods and pedicle screws fused to 10 of my vertebrae (19 screws - 2 rods) which have been in my body for 10 years now. This has caused 2 other complications in my spine -

1: adjacent disc degeneration

2: flatback syndrome

I have 5 herniated discs (yeah it gets worse) above and below my spinal fusion because of these two complications. 2 of these herniations, one above the fusion & one below, are moderate-severe and are compressing my spinal cord right now as I type this

I have an additional disc located C5-C6 that has been removed and replaced with an implant called the MOBI-C, which is made of a titanium alloy (like the rods & screws) but also a small piece of silicone in the center that unfortunately has a tendency to break and my surgeon believes mine is broken now. This arthroplasty is sitting below one of my worst (but surgically unaltered, for now) disc herniations.

“But Morg,” you might be wondering, “if the 10-level spinal fusion (which is huge!) caused so many complications and is causing your spine to degenerate and fail, why don’t they take it out or shorten it?”

the short version? they simply can’t. spinal fusions are designed to be life long. they can’t take out the implants without replacing them with something, and even that may be impossible because of the lack of remaining bone structure (my spine was severely deformed, and they removed a lot of the vertebral body)

the whole reason I’ve become a novelty to the neurosurgery department at my hospital is because they (with their experience and imagination) are looking into my future and seeing not good things for me. it has even been suggested that they consult with my other doctor(s) and refer me to the Mayo Clinic to see if there’s anyone there with experience working on people like me - or if there’s even anything at all they can do for me at this point.

all this being said…. It’s hard to picture myself dying of anything else at this point. you can generously estimate that patients like myself have a 30-year lifespan, and I will be singing high praise of the universe if I live that long, but I’m not optimistic about say, outliving my twin who has had no surgery before, or even my older sibling.

I try to be optimistic, right, but I am a man of science so I must also be realistic which means listening to my doctor’s genuine concerns about my quality of life and complicated pathologies.

#my mom died at 50 so if I live longer than that I’ll consider myself lucky #long post #I could’ve probably broke this down better but i hope it makes sense for the most part #when im talking about those 2 disc herniations those caused spinal cord compression and a lot of my symptoms #one of the symptoms was literally just the most unbearable 20/10 pain you’ve ever felt and i could barely breathe and had to be hospitalize #surgery #personal #terminal illness #terminal condition #suicide