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samwrights · 4 years

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I have a feeling we’re gonna start spiraling real hard into NSFW territory. Everyone here is aged up, and we ain’t afraid of the word cock on this blog. That being said, bust out your holy water and your vibrators and enjoy the semi-lengthy read!

Shinso;

There was nothing better than curling up on Sunday mornings with Toshi.

Even better on the days he felt like making breakfast for the two of you, but those were few and far between.

Not that you were complaining because when he was in the mood to be a doting partner, he was incredible.

Your personal favorite was having your head in lap while he absentmindedly played with your hair.

Today was not one of those days.

Rather than playing with your hair, his hands were gripping a PlayStation controller with zero intention of letting go.

Goddamn Final Fantasy just came out.

“Toshi, I’m hungry.”

“Go make breakfast then?”

Doesn’t even bat an eyelash. Sigh.

You wait patiently before making your move; you weren’t that much of a heathen that you’d interrupt your boyfriend in the midst of battle.

As soon as the screen cuts to dialogue, you’re on his lap and kissing him hard before your lips travel along his jaw just the way he likes it.

Intermittent biting with rough, open mouthed kisses.

All the while, you’re unabashedly grinding your hips into his, thankful to whatever higher power that exists above that he was only wearing boxers.

“Ohoh, so you’re that kind of hungry?”

“Only for you, Toshi.” Your mind goes blank before being filled with a hazy cloud and you’re now resting your head on his shoulder, unmoving.

Oh this fucking asshole just used his quirk on you!

“At least let me save my game first, kitten.” Is all he responds with, propping his chin on your shoulder to continue looking at the screen.

His goddamn hips are still grinding into while he does it too—cheeky mother fucker.

Todoroki;

Date nights with Shouto Todokori are every bit of a dream boat as you’d imagine.

Whether they were nights in or nights out, he always somehow managed to make them absolutely perfect.

However, nights in were your absolute favorite, solely based on the fact that you didn’t have to wait to get home before ravaging your boyfriend.

It was date night—the two of you were cuddled up on the couch with now empty boxes of takeout littering on your guys’ coffee table while watching some corny romcom on the television.

Full of food and happiness, you snuggle up to Shouto while he’s sprawled out on the couch, your head resting somewhere between his stomach and his chest.

Todo’s hands are absentmindedly playing with the hair at the nape of your neck and part of you is wondering if he’s doing it solely because he knows that it’s your weakness.

“Shouto...” you simper.

“Yes, baby?” He was definitely doing it because he knew it got to you. Confirmed it with the way you looked up at him, seeing list dripping from his pupils.

Without another exchange of words, you adjust yourself so that you’re in his lap, straddling his waist, arms loosely dangling off his shoulders.

The action is reciprocated, as he is cradling your back with his chin resting on your shoulder.

“Be patient, sweetie.” Is all he says before his eyes pretend to focus on the film.

“Don’t wanna,” you mumble against his collarbone, tentatively giving the skin a lick. Despite the rumble in his chest, Todo protests.

“I’m warning you, princess.” His voice is firm, and so is he, but you never were one for patience. You place open mouth kisses just below his ear, nibbling at the slightly loose skin because you know it’s going to drive him crazy.

“Sweetheart...” your tongue dances along the shell of his ear and he can clearly hear the broken breaths leaving your lips.

“Love you, Sho.” Your words are sweet, despite the salacious drip in them.

“I told you to be patient.” He growls, snapping one hand from your waist to gripping your chin. “Guess I’ll just have to punish you.”

Tamaki;

“Baaaabe!” You call out as soon as you enter the threshold of yours and Tamaki’s shared apartment.

“Living room, sweetheart.” He knew what that distressed call was.

Tamaki sets his book down on the coffee table in front of him as he hears your keys jingling while you take your shoes off before you throw your keys on the entryway table.

Immediately, you climb into your boyfriend’s lap, straddling him and wrapping your arms around his neck.

Were you not in a bad mood, Tamaki would be a red-hot, spluttering mess. Low key he still kind of was, but he knew that in this moment, you just wanted comfort.

His arms encircle your waist, pulling you nearly flush against him. “Bad day?” You nod into his neck, letting the steady rhythm of his heart beat calm you down. “Wanna talk about it?”

How in the hell did you get so lucky?

But Tama feels you shake your head no, so he settles for just holding you until you feel better.

“You’re so sweet to me, Tama,” you mumble out into his neck and despite his skin muting the words, the sprig of praise sends goosebumps down his arms. “I don’t know what I did in a past life to deserve you.”

Sweet little Suneater’s grip on your waist tightens, the words of praise going to straight to his cock. Mentally, he’s scolding himself because he should be focusing on comforting you.

But you feel him start to grow harder and your need for comfort is ebbing away, being replaced with the need to just feel him.

“Always so good to me, baby.” A groan rumbles in his throat, the vibrations moving against your tongue as you swipe the muscle slowly along a vein in his neck. “I love you so much, I should thank you for comforting me.”

You emphasize your statement by biting down on his neck before returning to lavish it with your tongue. You always did love leaving hickeys on him. “Thank you for taking care of me, Tama. Want me to return the favor?”

Tamaki’s more than thankful his hero costume hides his neck—it grants you the freedom to bruise every inch of his pale skin. But he can’t fucking take it anymore, and he needs to feel your lips on his.

“Love you,” is all he says before he smashes his lips onto yours, accentuating the statement with the forceful grind of his hardened cock over your clothed apex.

Bakugo;

“Babe, pay attention to me.”

Bakugo fucking hated when you were in this mood of feeling needy—needy to the point where you’d interrupt up while he’s doing homework.

“No, woman.”

“Pleeeeeease, Katsuki.”

“No, we have finals that we need to study for!” Yeah, fine. He was right about that.

But the only thing finals was gonna fuck was your GPA.

Knowing that your wonderful, and you say that wholeheartedly, boyfriend was going to stick to his word, you figure that desperate whores call for desperate measures.

That’s how the saying goes, right?

Regardless, you scoot yourself closer to Bakugo on the couch until your shoulders are touching, pestering him just enough to move away from the textbook and notebook was hunched over.

“The fuck did I just say?!” He snarls, looking at you fully.

“You’ve been so tense lately, baby. More than normal.” You say slowly, slithering into his lap so that you could straddle him.

Arms moving like a snake, you rest them on his broad shoulders, your hands gently grasping the cloth of the sofa.

“You need to relax,” the last syllable of your sentence leaves your lips salaciously before latching onto the blonde’s vein in his neck. “Just let me take care of you, babe.”

His crimson eyes shut briefly, forgetting all about organic chemistry for a moment and reeling into the feel of your teeth grazing his skin. “Fuck,” he grits out under his breaking resolve.

His hands grip at your hips, grinding them further into his rapidly hardening cock through his jeans. “That’s what I was trying to do.” You tease, nipping at his earlobe.

Your fingers work their way down the front of his thin muscle tee before they’re met with the tops of jeans—somehow calmly and frantically unbuttoning and unzipping them to give him some breathing room. “Still wanna study for finals?” Your face to face with Bakugo, your lips just out of his reach with your noses still touching.

He’s wearing a very displeased, disgruntled, snarl. “You aren’t even going to make it to the testing room when I’m done with you.”

Kaminari;

In hindsight, Denki should have known.

He should have known that, with the way you’d been so damn clingy while the two of you were out with your guys’ friends, you were plotting something.

With the way you refused to let go of him or the way you pressed long, slow, tender kisses along his jaw,

Denki Kaminari should have seen this coming.

Or maybe he did and he was more excited for the impending treatment than he let on.

“Fuck!” He hisses as you bite down on the flesh you have between your teeth at the base of his neck.

Currently, you have him pinned down on the couch with you straddling his waist and your hands gluing his wrists to the fabric.

Your tongue laves at the now swollen flesh in a futile attempt to ease the pain. He was definitely more excited for his punishment.

“Should have been a good boy while we were out, Denki~” your words are damning, thick with lust.

“I was!” He protests and, while this behavior wasn’t exactly left field for you, he knew there was an underlying issue fueling it.

“Uh uh,” you tut, moving from one collarbone to the other to give it the same treatment. He hisses again when your canines sink down—he knows you broke skin. “You told Jiro she was pretty.”

Denki has a love-hate relationship with your fragile ego and your insatiable envy. At the moment, he’s loving it almost as much as the way your plush lips trail kisses up his neck, biting as you go along.

A part of him wonders how he’s going to explain all of the fresh, angry, purple and red bruises at work tomorrow. Another part of him wants more.

“You belong to me, don’t you Denki?” You’re goading him with subtle touches of unbuttoning his shirt in addition to the hard bites and broken capillaries in his throat.

“Of course, baby.” It’s meant to come out as reassuring, but all that leaves his lips is broken whines.

“That doesn’t sound very convincing, sweetheart.” Despite your tone, his shirt is off now, giving you an entirely new canvas to mark up.

“I can show you better than I can tell you.”

Iida;

Oh, Tenya.

He was such a straight-laced good boy. It made teasing him that much more fun.

You’re sly and subtle that he never notices when you’re in that type of mood.

Or so you think.

You’re both just nonchalantly watching a movie together with his arm draped over the back of the couch over your shoulders.

He’s very textbook.

As the movie continues to play on, you start scooting closer and closer until you’re casually just sitting in his lap.

“What are you doing....” Iida knows something’s up now, but you’re just gonna play coy.

“Nothing,” you say innocently, adjusting yourself so that you’re straddling him with your arms around his neck before nestling your head into his chest. “Making myself comfortable.”

For a short while, it is rather comfortable, but you’ve got a different endgame in mind.

Your fingertips start to brush the back of his neck, fidgeting with his hair before they ghost over his neck and down his chest.

“Honey...” his voice is low and dangerous and rumbling with his rich timbre.

You ignore the literal choke that leaves his throat when your lips travel from the base of his neck to the spot where his jaw meets his earlobe.

“You’re being so good for me, Tenya.”

His hands are on your hips like a vice before he caves, nearly flinging both of you off the couch.

Thankfully, he’s got you cause you actually probably would have been hurt.

But he’s carrying you to your guys’ room now, all the while biting at his collarbones and telling him what a good boy he is. Definitely has a praise kink.

#samwrights #anon request #my hero academia headcanons #mha shinsou #mha #bnha shoto todoroki #todoroki shouto #hitoshi shinso x reader #shinsou imagine #bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo imagine #denki x you #kaminari denki #tamaki amajiki #amajiki x reader #tenya iida #iida headcanons #iida tenya #iida x reader

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newjerichoshoe · 4 years

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Movie Night ||Reed900

About: Gavin’s having a hard time, so Nines is here to the rescue. Warnings: talk of mental health (insomia), just some fluff. Word count: 1,286.

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“- and why is that relevant, Gavin?”

“If you fuckin’ as one more question Nines I’m scrapping ya’ for metal, got it?”

Nine’s LED flickered evenly between yellow and blue; Gavin’s hollow yet familiar threat offering the android some comfort. This was the most decompressed state his human partner had reached in the last month and colour Nines relieved.

He had been planning this night for a while. The android had gone through all of Gavin’s old movies to find the perfect movie (which ended up being The Rocky Horror Picture Show), ordered Gavin’s favourite meal (a highly trans-fat saturated takeaway pizza and beer which he only allows Gavin to eat them rarely) and last but not least; himself, Gavin’s two cats and what his partner affectionately once called ‘snuggles’ (Nines never lets him live that down).

The last month had been hell for Gavin, which in turn meant hell for Nines. Working together on cases while being romantically involved was an obstacle neither had faced before, but if Hank and Connor could still achieve a high case success rate there was nothing to fear. They were almost as unstoppable as the original duo.

But - this month was harder than usual. Multiple new red-ice cases were popping up daily and due to the manpower shortages after the android revolution (even if it had been a year and a half) and android related cases skyrocketing with little-to-no knowledge on how to fully regulate android rights. It was all in shambles – as Gavin and RK900 were the only other human/android pairing, they were given both android cases and a hearty pile of red-rice cases to work.

Everyone was feeling the pressure, but with Gavin’s – for the lack of a better word – shitty ability to control his emotions, stress levels and mental health this was going to be an issue form the get-go. So, when days started to blend, all-nighters became the daily and his caffeine habit when through the roof Nines knew he had to talk to Fowler before Gavin spiralled.

Fowler agreed to Nines request after seeing Gavin fall asleep standing up in the breakroom, his concern growing for the ill-disciplined 30 something-year-old. Not that detective would go down without a fighting chance – he hated taking time off with a fiery passion.

So, after some ‘stern’ talking to, which included Nines using ‘the voice’ and some passionate kisses, Gavin was quite thoroughly convinced that taking a week off was going to be beneficial not only for his mental health but their case success rate.

And that’s how they got here, snuggling together on Gavin’s ratty old couch waddled in fluffy blankets, 2 rather comfortable cats and Nine’s internal heaters set at a comfy 24 degrees Celsius. With Gavin’s head curled under Nine’s chin, body sandwiched against the warm android his dopamine levels were steadily rising to form their dangerously low levels.

Frankfurter continued to strut across the tv screen, in all of his drag queen glory as the Gavin found himself pre-occupied with their interlocked hands. Nines had explained it ages ago why his flesh retracted and his hand became a pearlescent white – something to do with an android’s desire to interface with their loved ones or something mushy like that. Gavin did love it though, as much as he wouldn’t admit it to Nines.

It sometimes made him feel self-conscious. Did Nines resent Gavin for not being an android? Not being able to interface? The thought wasn’t welcome and with an ill-planned squeeze of his hand, he focused on the android’s warm grasp around him and the movie playing. Nines wouldn’t hang around with his stupid ass if he didn’t feel something – he scared people away, but Nines was still here.

But Nine’s previous explanation wouldn’t stop him from asking again.

“Hey, tin can? Why does your skin retract n’ stuff?”

His voice was soft, and it was pleasant on Nine’s auditory processors. Icy blue eyes scanning downwards, Nine’s attention locked on his partner. Sparing a glance to their interlocked hands, a small-knowing smirk graced his lips.

“I do remember explaining the phenomenon to you before, Gavin. But the reason my skin retracts is due to an innate desire to interface with the person I have a romantic interest in. Love is probably the better term” The android squeezed the others hand, sensors detecting every piece of blood pumping through its arteries and capillaries.

Gavin gave a weak grunt in recognition, a cocky smirk reaching his lips as he titled his scared face upwards and gave a sparing, open-mouthed kiss to the Nine’s sharp jaw.

“Look at ya’ been mushy -” Boy, did Gavin have a way with words “Ya’ lucky I love you to Nines, ya’ dumbass” Yet again, the familiar nicknames were a comfort to Nines, he was getting his hot-headed, caffeine-addicted boyfriend back already.

“Yes, I am insanely lucky to have your affections Gavin” With a hint of sarcasm, their now shared loving eye contact underlined their playful banter. It was their love language, taking subtle digs at each other and being sarcastic.

The night wore on, Gavin’s food polished off and the cats sleeping atop of each other on the other lounge as the human had stretched out over the couch and hogged the area. Nines noticed slower breathing patterns in his partner around the 3rd last musical number of the movie, signalling that Gavin had fallen fast asleep.

Due to Gavin’s insomnia, Nines could not be more pleased to see the human finally relaxing and catching up on the missed hours of sleep he needed. The android slowly wove his hands through the detective newly washed hair, Nines had insisted he showered before he found out what his surprise was and revelled in the natural sent of Gavin.

Turning down the TV’s volume, the android let the rest of the movie play out before he made an effort to move his partner. Luckily, Gavin was a heavy sleeper so scooping the man up bridal style had no chance of waking him no matter how rough Nines was (within reason). Nines would clean in the morning, not that Gavin wouldn’t make a snide comment about him not being his maid android, but Gavin needed the rest.

Entering their shared bedroom, Nines transferred Gavin’s weight to one arm, so he was able to pull the blankets back with the other. Slipping his human under the sheets, the heavy sleeper gave a small grunt and refused to let go of the android. Nines always found his sleepy counterpart quite adorable, and the clinginess was something he didn’t get to experience often – it was a nice rarity.

Thankfully Nines hadn’t needed to turn the lights to navigate, so he simply slid into their queen bed; his body temperature still functioning at 24 degrees as he wrapped his slender arms around the shorter male’s soft waist. Before he could even register it, Gavin’s face was buried in the android’s chest, his thirium pump comforting even in the deepest reaches of his slumber.

Nines arms curled around the others frame tighter, holding the human close as he scanned the male one last time. Gavin was close to hitting his first REM stage of slumber, his hormones beginning to reach more suitable levels. He would never express to Gavin how truly worried he was about the human – it wasn’t their thing. Actions spoke louder, the occasional ‘I love you’ was more powerful than gradual overuse.

Brushing his lips firmly over the scar on Gavin’s nose, causing the human to scrunch up his nose, and begin the slow decline into stasis mode.

“I love you, Gavin. Never, ever doubt that…”

#reed900 #gavin x rk900 #gavin x nines #detroit become human #detroit #gavin reed #nine stories #rk900 #dbh nines #dbh #dbh rk900 #900reed

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mcatmemoranda · 4 years

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Going through questions:

Stages of lobar pneumonia:

1) Congestion - neutrophils release cytokines and then the capillaries become leaky so that immune cells can enter alveoli. RBCs and proteinaceous fluid enters alveoli. This occurs during the first 2 days. 2) Red Hepatization - fibrinous tissue develops from the proteinacous fluid; the affected lobe of the lung resembles liver tissue, hence "hepatization." This occurs during days 2 to 4. 3) Gray Hepatization - RBCs disintegrate; more WBCs and macrophages enter the alveoli. This occurs on days 4 to 7. 4) Resolution - the macrophages destroy the fibrous tissue and it gets reabsorbed, phagocytosed by macrophages, or coughed up; occurs after day 7.

Bronchopneumonia affects the terminal bronchioles. Interstitial pneumonia is infection of the tissue between the alveoli; interstitial pneumonia is usually atypical pneumonia (caused by atypical bugs like chlamydia pneumoniae and mycoplasma pneumoniae).

Pneumocystis jirovecii pneumonia is another cause of atypical pneumonia in immunocompromised pts. It causes interstitial pneumonia. PCP = Pneumocystis Pneumonia. P. jirovecii can't be cultured, so it's visualized with methanamine silver staining of bronchoalveolar lavage fluid. It has a cell wall that shows up well with silver stain. The silver stain looks green and the pneumocystic jirovecii looks like black cirlces with clear centers. The treatment (and the prophylaxis in pts with AIDS) is TMP-SMX.

Left ventricular failure due to MI of the left ventricle can lead to pulmonary venous HTN and acute pulmonary edema (I think this is called "flash pulmonary edema"). Cardiogenic pulmonary edema is transudative edema. Basically, blood can't be pumped effectively, so it backs up and the hydrostatic pressure in the pulmonary capillaries increases, leading to fluid entering alveoli. If you were to look at light microscopy of the lung tissue, you would see transudate (appears pink) in the alveoli and the blood vessels would be engorged.

Congestive Heart Failure (CHF) leads to blood backing up. Fluid can then enter the lungs due to increased hydrostatic pressure pushing fluid out of the capillaries. Over time, macrophages in the lungs eat the RBCs that get through the capillaries. They become "heart failure cells" (hemosiderin-laden macrophages).

At the bronchi, you have goblet cells and submucosal cells, which make the mucus that protects the epithelium. It's mostly the submucosal glands that make mucus at the level of the bronchi. In the proximal bronchioles, you no longer have submucosal cells, but you still have goblet cells. At the level of the terminal bronchioles, you don't have goblet cells or submucosal cells, but there are club cells. At the level of the respiratory bronchioles, you have macrophages that eat any debris that manages to get that far into the lungs. And then within the alveoli are the dust cells (macrophages that live in the alveoli and eat any debris that manages to make it into the alveoli).

From Wikipedia:

Club cells, also known as bronchiolar exocrine cells,[1] and formerly known as Clara cells, are dome-shaped cells with short microvilli, found in the small airways (bronchioles) of the lungs.[2]

Club cells are found in the ciliated simple epithelium. These cells may secrete glycosaminoglycans to protect the bronchiole lining. Bronchiolar cells gradually increase in number as the number of goblet cells decrease.

One of the main functions of club cells is to protect the bronchiolar epithelium. They do this by secreting a small variety of products, including club cell secretory protein uteroglobin, and a solution similar in composition to pulmonary surfactant. They are also responsible for detoxifying harmful substances inhaled into the lungs. Club cells accomplish this with cytochrome P450 enzymes found in their smooth endoplasmic reticulum. Club cells also act as a stem cell, multiplying and differentiating into ciliated cells to regenerate the bronchiolar epithelium.

The mucocilliary escalator clears debris that gets into the lungs. At the level of the terminal bronchioles, you still have ciliated cells that beat the debris towards the trachea so it can be coughed up or swallowed. Anything distal to the terminal bronchioles is phagocytosed by macrophages.

Sarcoidosis causes non-caseating granulomas, which are balls of epithiolioid macrophages and multi-nucleated giant cells. The pts present with cough, fatigue, dypnea, weight loss. If lungs are affected, it shows B/L hilar LAD and reticular opacities.

CF-> impaired clearance of airways. Pts have increased chloride in their sweat because of defective and decreased CFTR.

Alcoholics are likelier to aspirate vomitus and are therefore susceptible to pneumonia caused by anaerobic bugs in the mouth, including bacteroides, prevotella, and fusobacterium. So empiric treatment needs to cover for anaerobes--ampicillin/sulbactam and carbapenem. If PCN allergic, can substitute for clindamycin.

Etomidate does not cause cardiovascular depression, unlike propol. Propofol, etomidate, and ketamine have rapid onset of action and short duration, so they're often used for induction. Propofol is a GABA agonist; can cause vasodilation-> hypotension. Etomidate is also a GABA agonist, but doesn't cause vasodilation. Etomidate prevents cortisol synthesis, which can cause adrenocortical suppression; so it is not used in pts with septic shock. Ketamine is an N-Methyl-D-Aspartate (NMDA) antagonist; it is like PCP; causes release of catecholamines-> bronchodilation, increased HR, positive inotropy. So in pts who are hemodynamically unstable, you would use an anesthetic like etomidate or ketamine, which either have no effect on hemodynamics (etomidate) or improve hemodynamics (ketamine); and you would avoid propofol, which would worsen hemodynamic instability.

The normal epithelium in the bronchi is pseudostratified, ciliated columnar epithelium. Smoking can cause metaplasia and eventually dysplasia. The metaplasia is changing of cell type from columnar to stratified squamous. This is similar to the metaplasia that occurs in Barrett's esophagus (only in Barrett's it's normal squamous cells turning into columnar cells). I totally missed this question because I failed to realize that the normal cell type of the bronchi is columnar, not squamous. -_- Basically, smoking makes the cells go "hey, I'm getting sick of this irritation and damage! I'm going to turn into a different type of cell!" So they turn into squamous cells, which can more easily resist the damage that smoking causes to the bronchial epithelium. The problem is that the squamous cells don't have the cilia that are needed to move debris up the mucocilliary elevator. So that's why smokers might have a chronic cough. When you stop smoking, the squamous cells can change back into ciliated columnar cells--this is why when you quit smoking, you intially start coughing up more stuff. But if you just keep smoking, you end up with squamous cell carcinoma.

MI of the left ventricle can lead to left-sided heart failure. Then blood backs up, causing increased hydrostatic pressure in the pulmonary vasculature; so fluid leaks out into the alveoli and interstitium of the lungs. Since there's more fluid in the interstitium, the alveoli can't fully expand. Therefore left-sided heart failure causes decreased compliance of the lungs. Also, fluid in the alveoli means they aren't as ventilated as normal, so less oxygen can go from alveolus into the pulmonary capillaries. Fluid in the alveoli causes intrapulmonary shunting.

From Wikipedia:

A pulmonary shunt refers to the passage of deoxygenated blood from the right side of the heart to the left without participation in gas exchange in the pulmonary capillaries. It is a pathological condition that results when the alveoli of the lungs are perfused with blood as normal, but ventilation (the supply of air) fails to supply the perfused region. In other words, the ventilation/perfusion ratio (the ratio of air reaching the alveoli to blood perfusing them) is zero.[1] A pulmonary shunt often occurs when the alveoli fill with fluid, causing parts of the lung to be unventilated although they are still perfused.[2]

Intrapulmonary shunting is the main cause of hypoxemia (inadequate blood oxygen) in pulmonary edema and conditions such as pneumonia in which the lungs become consolidated.[2] The shunt fraction is the percentage of blood put out by the heart that is not completely oxygenated.

In pathological conditions such as pulmonary contusion, the shunt fraction is significantly greater and even breathing 100% oxygen does not fully oxygenate the blood.

When you exercise, you have increased respiratory rate and tidal volume-> increased minute ventilation. More oxygen is needed in the tissues during exercise, so there is less mixed venous oxygen. Perfusion of alveoli increases, but ventilation of alveoli increases more so, so the ventilation/perfusion ratio increases.

Omg. I hate when I choose the right anwer, and then I start thinking too much and change to the wrong answer! This question was about a guy who clearly had a PE. The pt would be tachypneic, which would cause decreased PaCO2 and thus increased pH (because CO2 + H2O-> H2CO3-> H+ + HCO3-, so if you're blowing off CO2, you're getting rid of H+ and thus the pH will increase). Since the pt has a PE, his PaO2 would be decreased because the thrombus prevents perfusion of some of the alveoli, creating ventilation/perfusion mismatch. Since the pt is hyperventilating, he will have respiratory alkalosis. Acutely, the HCO3- will be normal, but after 72 hours, the kidneys compensate for respiratory alkalosis by losing HCO3-.

When stimulated by an irritant, the vagus nerve releases ACh, which stimulates muscarinic receptors-> bronchoconstriction. Ipratropium is an anticholinergic and blocks the effects of ACh-> no bronchcoconstriction.

From Wikipedia:

Chemically, ipratropium bromide is a quaternary ammonium compound (which is indicated by the -ium per the BAN and the USAN) [13] obtained by treating atropine with isopropyl bromide, thus the name: isopropyl + atropine.[citation needed] It is chemically related to components of the plant Datura stramonium, which was used in ancient India for asthma

Ipratropium exhibits broncholytic action by reducing cholinergic influence on the bronchial musculature. It blocks muscarinic acetylcholine receptors, without specificity for subtypes, and therefore promotes the degradation of cyclic guanosine monophosphate (cGMP), resulting in a decreased intracellular concentration of cGMP.[15] Most likely due to actions of cGMP on intracellular calcium, this results in decreased contractility of smooth muscle in the lung, inhibiting bronchoconstriction and mucus secretion. It is a nonselective muscarinic antagonist,[9] and does not diffuse into the blood, which prevents systemic side effects. Ipratropium is a derivative of atropine[16] but is a quaternary amine and therefore does not cross the blood–brain barrier, which prevents central side effects (anticholinergic syndrome). Ipratropium should never be used in place of salbutamol (albuterol) as a rescue medication.

So ipratropium (and tiotropium) are anticholinergics; they block muscarinic receptors, preventing bronchoconstriction. They also prevent submucosal glands from secreting mucus in the trachea and bronchi.

Leukotrienes are released by mast cells and eosinophils. They cause bronchoconstriction, secretion of mucus in the bronchi, and edema in the bronchi. Leukotrienes C4, D4, and E4 (contain cysteinyl) mostly cause this. Leukotriene receptor antagonists bind to leukotriene recptors on bronchial smooth muscle cells and prevent leukotriene-induced bronchoconstriction. Montelukast and zafirlukast are leukotriene receptor antagonists. Zileuton inhibits 5-lipoxygenase, preventing the formation of leukotrienes. Methylxanthines (e.g., theophylline) block phosphodiesterase-> increased cAMP-> bronchodilation. Glucocorticoids block conversion of membrane phospholipids into arachadonic acid (the precursor for leukotrienes). Glucocorticoids are given in persistent asthma.

Elastin in the alveolar walls allows the elastic recoil of the alveoli to occur. The more stretched the alveoli are, the more they want to recoil. Loss of elastin prevents the elastic recoil of alveoli. Lysine cross links between elastin chains give elastin its elasticity. Desmosine crosslinks between elastin polypeptides are made by lysyl oxidase. Non-polar amino acids also account for the elasticity of elastin.

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techno-sorcerer · 7 years

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Adjusting to the Dark Chapter 5: Cassandras Part 2

Story Summary: After recovering from an attack, Kaiba attempts to return to work. The problem: it was a vampire attack, and he didn’t recover so much as turn. Meanwhile, demons lurk ready to strike and take Kaiba Corp at the first sign of weakness.

Chapter Summary: After a hospital visit that goes according to neither Kaiba’s, the doctor’s, nor Shadi’s expectations, Kaiba finally makes it back to the manor. In both events, listening or not bears consequences.

Words: 6,790

Chapter Content Warnings: Body horror, allusions to cissexism, near major character death (no one dies though), Hallucinations

Notes: I am a very serious writer with very serious plot points. /s That said do not kill me. Also, I updated chapter 2 with information relevant to this chapter, so if you havne’t read that since I posted it, check it out. (It is a few paragraphs after Kaiba is told how long he’s been missing.)

Links to Chapter 1: tumblr, ao3

Almost an hour into his visit, the final drop of blood slid from the blood bag down the tube and into Kaiba’s arm. The sweet overtones of the aroma wafting up from the inside of his elbow disappeared leaving only sour scents lingering in the air. The pink veins leading up his arm started to retreat and shadows took their place. A tendril of darkness left his arm through the needle and traveled up the tube, moving along the thin film of blood coating the inside of the plastic.

Seto Kaiba did not notice most of these details; he was too busy staring absentmindedly at the ceiling. His pupils felt like they were the size of saucer plates, and sparklers were going off in his brain.

“Well, that went quick.” Kaiba rolled his head to look at Dr. Uramoto, who was rubbing her arm as she spoke. “I was under the impression that it normally took longer than this, but then again you aren’t exactly normal.”

Kaiba rolled his eyes. “Not many people my age are CEOs. If you mean anything else… I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He turned his head away as if to suddenly find the poster on the hospital wall very interesting. Of course, he knew exactly what she was talking about; he just didn’t believe it. While his hormones did not appear to bother her, Dr. Uramoto had revealed herself to be fairly superstitious, and part way through the blood transfusion, the superstitious prattle had increased tenfold. Kaiba had decided to blame Shadi.

“I’m not paid enough for this.” Dr. Uramoto let out a heavy sigh. She then mumbled softly to herself, “Though I guess it’s not your fault you couldn’t see yourself. I wonder if mirrors even would still work.”

“The mirrors aren’t broken, only my brain,” Kaiba said continuing to face the wall, or at least tried to say that since the word ‘broken’ came out more like ‘borken.’ He then realized what he said out loud and regret hit him like a brick. To admit that to a stranger… usually he thought things through a bit more. He curled further into the hospital bed. “Oops.”

Dr. Uramoto walked around the hospital bed to stand in front of Kaiba, and he waited for her to make some remark about his comment. Instead she said something else, “Are you going to let me take that thing out of your arm or are you going to try to bite my head off again?”

“I didn’t mean to,” Kaiba mumbled, and indeed he hadn’t.

He had mentioned something about the area around the needle starting to tingle, and Dr. Uramoto had then said she was worried about a possible allergic reaction. However, as she reached over him to take the needle out, he panicked. It felt good. No, it was good. He needed it. So, before he thought anything through, he grabbed her arm and barred his teeth. Don’t. Looking back, barring his teeth didn’t make much sense, but at the time the action felt natural and right. It wasn’t until after she flinched away and yelped that he realized what he had done and let go. Glancing down at her arm, Kaiba noted that the spot where he had grabbed her was still red.

“It doesn’t matter what you meant to do. You did it. Now, I need to know whether you are going to do that again. Do I need to bring in security?”

Kaiba shook his head before looking up at the blood bag. It was empty, and the urgency was gone. “Could… I have more?”

Dr. Uramoto shook her head, “After seeing what that first bag did to you, no.”

“But… but…” Kaiba sputtered, “I’m in shock.” That is apparently what Shadi had told Dr. Uramoto to write in his record, and after she checked his vitals, she offered no better explanation. His blood pressure was abysmally low, his heartbeat impossible to find, and his body sat at room temperature. Dr. Uramoto had had no better luck finding a pulse than he had.

“The diagnosis has changed, and even if it hadn’t, you’re as high as a kite, and your arm looks like something out of a horror movie.”

“I’m not high, but…” Kaiba held out his arm. “You see that too?”

Dr. Uramoto nodded. The veins and capillaries spreading out from the needle had become a web of black, which stood out all the more due to his ashen skin. Meanwhile, less distinguished shadows danced and writhed around the needle. Their movement almost felt joyous. As Dr. Uramoto removed the needle, a strand of his own discolored blood held on like a thread being pulled from a spool, but eventually it broke. Kaiba felt his arm tense for a moment. The moving shadows continued to pulse around the dot of sour blood that indicated where the needle had been. Dr. Uramoto cleaned the area with a band-aid ready, only to find unbroken skin.

Kaiba poked his arm. It felt good, amazing even, and fundamentally alive. He turned to look up at Dr. Uramoto with a pout. “You sure I can’t have more?”

“No.” A crease fell across her eyebrow as she glanced back down at his arm. “How can that not worry you?” A trace of a giggle escaped Kaiba’s lips as he shrugged. “I’m not entirely sure this is happening.”

The crease turned into a full on frown, before Dr. Uramoto shook her head and let out a sigh. “Shadi wanted me to give you blood, and having seen what I’ve seen,” she gestured down at him, “I can see that he was serious about it being for home, but the hospital has a strict policy on doing the transfusions in clinic, so unless I want to lose my job, that isn’t an option. There’s not much more I can do for you unless...” She glanced him over again and considered something for a moment. Fear radiated off of her. “… that’s not worth the risk. I’ll make sure you don’t get lost on the way back. You barely look like you could find your way out the door at the moment.”

Kaiba swung his legs off of the hospital bed and sat up. “Whatever Shadi told you was a lie.” He fidgeted for a moment before grabbing the outer shirt he’d taken off for the transfusion and awkwardly jabbing his arms through the sleeves.

“He didn’t tell me much, but yeah, he lied,” Dr. Uramoto rolled her eyes. “He said he’d make sure I’d be safe, but I’ll have the bruises to remember this visit by. Though I suppose he was worried about something else, that doesn’t mean I should be grateful worse didn’t happen...” Kaiba glanced away. He didn’t want to think about what did happen let alone what Shadi thought might pass. The image of the corpses in the parking garage still flashed through his mind. He shook his head; he’d rather not be thinking at all right now. “… so, are you coming or not? I gave up a Friday night for this, and I imagine you have places you’d rather be too.”

Home. He’d rather be home. He nodded, and followed Dr. Uramoto into the hallway.

Kaiba’s nose twitched.

The whole building had smelled sanitized since he had entered it, but hospitals were places for people and therefore smelled like them. Exiting the small room and entering a common space, the layers multiplied. Kaiba took a deep breath and lost himself in them for a moment. Unlike the Kaiba Corp lobby, the aromas- for they smelled too intriguing and good to be called odors- were more varied and a number of the layers contained strange twists and turns. Even slightly off, they smelled like people, and thus smelled good. The only bad smells among them were the swirls of stress that permeated the hallway; most people did not enjoy being here.

A hand tapped his shoulder, and Kaiba looked over at Dr. Uramoto, who wore a worried, almost scared, expression and gestured for him to follow. Kaiba glared but followed. He’d simply breathed for a moment; there wasn’t anything ominous about that.

After trailing Uramoto down the halls for a bit, he caught a whiff of something distinctive – or at least more familiar. Isono. If his mind had been clearer he may have interrogated his intuition further and hated that he recognized it, but at the moment he was relieved. He was almost there, almost home. The slightest of smiles graced his face. He took a few more sniffs to confirm that it was the smell from earlier. It was, and it was close. Without half a thought he darted forward led by his nose and leaving Dr. Uramoto in his tailwind. Turning a corner and bursting through a door, Kaiba found himself in the reception room, where Isono was staring at his phone intently. The smile spread. Finally. He rushed over and got Isono’s attention by gently grabbing his arm. “Time to go.”

Isono nearly jumped, and the thumping in his chest raced. Kaiba wondered for a moment if he had done something wrong. The door behind him slammed against the wall before slowly closing. The receptionist behind the counter looked up.

“I… uh… didn’t hear you come in,” Isono stuttered, while getting out of the chair. He glanced down at where Kaiba was still holding onto his arm, at Kaiba’s chest, and then back up at Kaiba’s face. He seemed concerned. “Uh… did everything go well?”

“It went… weird,” Kaiba shrugged. The reception room door opened again, and looked over his shoulder at a very out of breath Dr. Uramoto. “I made it back.”

“Yeah… I see…” Dr. Uramoto panted. “I didn’t realize you would be so... fast in your current condition.” Fast? She was the one that was slow. Dr. Uramoto took a nervous look around the room, and Kaiba could smell twinges of relief peel off of her until her eyes landed on where he was holding onto Isono. She rubbed her own arm and looked Isono directly in the eyes. “Are you ok?”

Kaiba glared at Dr. Uramoto. Even with his mind fuzzy around the edges, he knew he hadn’t meant to grab onto her arm. That somehow without meaning to, without being in complete control of himself- which was the worse part of it really- he had hurt someone, not financially, not emotionally, but physically. But, the mere thought of hurting Isono, one of the few people who had been good to him. How dare she! His grip tightened on on Isono’s arm for a moment before he let go and simply curled his finger’s tightly around Isono’s blazer. Kaiba breathed in and listened for a moment. No, Isono was here and healthy and going to take him home.

Isono’s brow creased. “Kaiba is the one who had been assaulted and missing. I am fine. The real question is whether he is ok, and…” Isono looked Kaiba over again, “did you give him anything?”

“Uh...” Dr. Uramoto stumbled for a moment and stared at Kaiba. He continued to glare. She let out a sigh. “May I release the information?” “Are you going to talk nonsense?” If the doctor was going to start telling Isono about vampires, he was going to lose it.

Dr. Uramoto rolled her eyes and gestured around at the receptionist and the other person waiting for an after hours appointment. “No, only what’s going on your record. You can tell people the rest on your own time, though those that spend more time with you,” she looked back at Isono, “deserve to know what they are dealing with.”

“The rest doesn’t exist,” Kaiba tugged on Isono’s sleave. “We’re going home.”

“Don’t pity me for working for him. I know who he is better than you do, and I stand by him, But,” Isono looked Kaiba in the eye with a resolution in his eyes that Kaiba did not like. Isono then spoke very calmly but firmly, “I don’t want to argue with you, but it is my duty as your assistant and legally by our agreement to make sure you are okay I know this isn’t your usual doctor, but considering everything that has happened and your current condition, I would rather hear this from the doctor herself. If you and her are having a disagreement, I will make sure you get the treatment you need.”

Kaiba rolled his eyes. “It doesn’t matter. Let’s go.”

Isono didn’t move. “As said, I am on your side, but I will invoke our agreement if necessary.” “You wouldn’t. You couldn’t.” Kaiba was dumbfounded. It had been a year since Isono had last threatened to use the power the agreement gave him. In fact, there had been two previous times when Isono, put his foot down, and fortunately both times they had managed to come to a compromise. The first time had been over the issue of his schooling.

The second time had been over hormones. Not Kaiba’s decision to take them, but Kaiba’s decision to start a year earlier than recommended. Without Isono’s intervention, Kaiba would have simply bucked his doctor and used his resources to get what he wanted through less than official channels. Isono had forced him to sit down and at least consider medical supervision, and he had helped Kaiba sort through the web pages and phone calls, the bribes and visits, needed to do it. Knowing that the wrong dose could have increased his estrogen, it was probably for the best, but he hated the waiting.

Whether or not Isono actually could use his parental right to get the records, Kaiba knew Isono had to be dead serious to even mention it. And, despite how good he currently felt, Kaiba had to admit that he current situation may possibly perhaps be almost more important than the other times. He had nearly died.

“Fine,” Kaiba pouted turning back towards Dr. Uramoto. “I release the stuff on the medical record.” She said she wouldn’t talk about that bullshit, but she still believed it and somehow found ways to remind him of it. He bent down and buried his face in Isono’s sleeve. He wanted this to be over with. He wanted to be home. He wanted things to get back to normal, where people didn’t even think about the possibility of vampires or demons let alone expect him to take the ideas seriously. Where people hated him and called him scum behind his back but didn’t accuse him of actual murder. His ideas had been sharpened into weapons and sold for blood, but no one ever had thought he’d pull the trigger.

“He was in fairly severe shock when you brought him in. Its… a wonder he was even up and moving around. He did respond positively to a blood transfusion, but the sudden shift towards normal appears to have induced a wave of euphoria. You asked me if I gave him anything, but that was it. Its a testament to the shape he was in that it could have such an effect.”

Isono let out a chuckle. “Somehow I find that very hard to believe.” Kaiba pulled away and looked at him quizically. What gave him that impression? “Sir, you have been quite a bit more out of it coming back from this appointment than you were going into it.” He gestured at Kaiba’s still unbottoned outer shirt then to the place where Kaiba’s fingers were still tightly wrapped around Isono’s sleeve. Kaiba’s jaw dropped and he jumped back. His fingers hesitantly released the fabric and then rushed to straighten his shirt, shaking a little bit.

How had he let himself be seen like that? People could say what they want about him otherwise, but he couldn’t afford to look incompetent, weak, or out of control. And, while the contact with Isono wasn’t that bad, what if somebody got the impression that they were allowed to touch him?

Isono looked like he was trying to bite back a joke, though he managed to flatly state, “You even were smiling, actually smiling, for a moment there.” The statement was cutting precisely because Kaiba knew that Isono understood the large difference between a smile and a smirk. Kaiba rarely found an occasion worthy of the of the former, especially because the only times he put any effort towards happiness were to spite those who wanted him in pain. So, there was little that could actually make him let his guard down and enjoy himself, and the little that did exist were in brief moments with his brother.

“No, I-” Kaiba cut himself off with a pout. He didn’t actually remember smiling or not, but he had while running back to the waiting room been able to set aside how hellish the world and particularly this evening had been and focus on being able to finally being able to see his brother again. For a moment, things had seemed so very nice. To be able to forget all of what had happened… well, he was starting to see Isono’s concern. Blocking things out was easy; forgetting about them was a different matter. “She didn’t give me anything but the blood. Like she said, I’m lucky to be alive. Now, are you satisfied?”

Isono’s brow creased for a moment before he let out a sigh. “Well, so long as Dr. Uramoto says its ok for you to leave. If your condition is as bad as you say it is, I wouldn’t be surprised if you needed to stay, and I don’t want to hear that you bribed your way out of important medical care.” Kaiba rolled eyes. He couldn’t tell if Isono was joking, but that was how Isono’s humor usually worked.

“You couldn’t bribe me to keep him here.” Dr. Uramoto gave half a laugh and gave Kaiba a nervous glance. “In any case, I’ve done all I can do. More than the person who recommended him to me was probably expecting. The best thing for him would probably be to go home and rest. And… it would be best if he thought about what Shadi told him.”

“Stop it!” Kaiba rolled his eyes. “I already told you: what Shadi said was bullshit.”

“Oh, yeah,” She immediately snapped back, “Shadi can have issues with communication that we’ll have a word over next time he stops by, but I think he did try to tell me. I was just too busy hoping you were someone like me. Someone he saved. Not… the person who’d… someone he’d… someone like you. It didn’t even occur to me that he’d help you, and because of that things went less than ideally. He should have been clearer; he should have made sure I understood. But, I could have listened better. I bet he tried harder to tell you, and I know that if and when things go badly for you, it will be worse than a few bruises. And, if saying something will stop that, I have to say something.”

As she finished speaking, her hand lay on the small stick of metal she kept on a string around her neck.

Cold iron, she had said, to protect her from one of her former patients. She hadn’t said what the patient had done, and Kaiba had figured the details weren’t much of his business anyway. Yet, he still heard the way her voice shook when she spoke of him, and though he doubted the piece of metal would do any good, she clutched it tightly while she spoke of him. She said that the patient had warped her own memories of what happened and when she had tried to reach out for help, it was as if people couldn’t hear her. Even though her story had flirted with superstition and the details shrouded in mystery, Kaiba understood the feeling well.

It had been Shadi apparently who had helped her, who made sure people heard, who made sure the patient never hurt her again. She had been surprised that Kaiba had called him a detective, but she put more trust in him than she did in the police.

“He may not have saved me, but I was attacked,” Kaiba’s voice began to crack, and he put a hand over his face. “I am the victim here!”

Dr. Uramoto’s face dropped. “I suppose so. That won’t stop anything, but I suppose so.”

At this point Isono stepped forward between Kaiba and the doctor, “I have no idea what you two are talking about, and I am sorry for whatever may have happened… but I believe its time to go.” As soon as Isono uttered the words, Kaiba turned on heel and stormed out of the door. Isono followed close behind, which was fortunate because Kaiba realized that he barely knew his way out of the hospital let alone where the car was parked.

By the time Kaiba made it home his head had cleared, though Kaiba suspected Isono may have taken a detour to give him time to sober up. His memory of the visit- particularly the portion after the blood transfusion- was apparently rather blurry. Not gone, but worrisome enough with his usually crystal clear memory. When they got home, Isono asked him if everything was still loud, and it had taken some prodding for him to even remember that as he had thrown himself in the car he had casually remarked how so very very loud everything sounded and smelled. Like sandpaper against his skull, so many details all at once.

“It’s manageable,” Kaiba said exiting the car. “You can go. I will likely be calling a board meeting on Sunday to discuss what has happened since my disappearance, and I will contact you in the time leading up to that. There is much to do first.”

The car stayed for a moment, and Kaiba turned to look at Isono, who looked like he was considering whether or not to say something. Kaiba narrowed his eyes. Since he didn’t say it aloud, it was probably something silly about resting and recovering, and Isono would already know what the answer would be. He was home. He was shortly to be with Mokuba. That was all the rest he needed. Recovery would only come when he made sure everything was under control; the world would not tolerate and would likely punish any less.

“You can go,” Kaiba repeated, and Isono drove off.

Kaiba walked up the stairs to his porch and entered his manor. Finally. He felt a strong urge to run up the stairs to his brother’s room, to see that his brother was alive and well and to tell his brother that he was alive and well, and he would certainly do that soon. But, he wanted to make sure he looked and smelled presentable first. His brother wouldn’t judge him; his brother never had. Instead Kaiba wanted to make sure that nothing was out of place, so his brother could really see that everything was fine that he didn’t have to worry anymore. From the orphanage to life under Gozaburo to even the battle out of that hell, Mokuba had been forced to worry far too much, and Kaiba hated when he was forced to add to that for even a moment.

So, his first task was instead to shower and get whatever remained of the dumpster off of him.

Heading directly up to his private bathroom, Kaiba was distracted momentarily by the glowing eyes in his reflection. He glanced it over, noting that at least this time his reflection was as dark as the room around him. He started unbuttoning his shirt but then glanced back at the mirror and the room around him. The room was in fact quite dark. The only light in the room was trickling in from the window, from the security lamps and moon outside; the room itself looked desaturated, cast almost in greyscale. He shouldn’t be able to pick out as many details as he could, the soap dispenser on the counter, toothbrush lazily against the edge of its cup, the towels stacked neatly on the rack. He hated how comfortable he felt.

Hesitantly he reached towards the light switch.

Flipping the switch, blinked and squinted as the light blasted against his pupils, and then his eyes adjusted. The room brightened and returned to color, but his reflection did not. Damn hallucination wouldn’t go away. His face contorted at the sight, upper lip pulling back in disgust. It shouldn’t happen with every damn mirror. “You choose now to be consistent?”

But, of course, that only revealed how consistent the hallucination was, since as soon as he opened his mouth, he saw the tips of two sharp fangs.

Kaiba lashed out at the sight.

The mirror cracked, splintered, and slid downward out of its frame. The back of his hand stung momentarily as a shard cracked and splintered against it. Glass scattered across the large quartz counter top, a few pieces near the far edge sliding off the far edge onto the floor next to the toilet.

Now, instead of one horrible reflection, he had several horrible reflections staring back at him from the shards. They were taunting him. He glared the reflections and pressed his lips into a thin line. He tried not to think about how the thin dark lines on the back of hand and the sour smell wafting up from them reminded him of the cuts Jun Liu and Detective Wasseem had asked about. But, the shards’ angles also were odd enough that they caught more of the ceiling than him, and his eyes fell on the shards less naturally than the standing mirror. The cuts on his hands must be shallow, since without any pain to remind him, they were easy to ignore. As much as he knew it ultimately solved nothing, it was better.

He scoffed and let out a small laugh, while sweeping aside the few shards that had fallen onto the floor. “Brain’s so fucked up, can’t even get fantasy right.”

Stripping down to shower, he noted that despite the blood transfusion his skin was still the same deathly pale. He hoped at the transfusion would do something, especially since it had induced… how had Dr. Uramoto referred to it? Euphoria. In any case, more blood in his system should have returned some of the color.

His eyebrows knotted in confusion.

Kaiba looked at the spot his inner elbow where the needle for the blood transfusion had stuck, hoping to at least see some progress there. It was the same as the rest of his skin. The vague memory of the area turning pink then black drifted through his mind. Shadows dancing across his skin, and his blood gripping onto the needle. That couldn’t be right, but he did seem to recall the doctor mentioning something about it herself. He frowned, unsure whether either part of it was real, and decided to move on. It was certainly improbable, and in either case, he couldn’t do anything about it now.

It did, however, mean that he couldn’t pretend with Mokuba that everything was ok, though perhaps his original plan to do so was a bit facetious. Mokuba was a smart kid. He would know. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t do his best to make sure that everything was as close to normal as possible.

He then also recalled Detective Wasseem’s comments about his skin being cool and the thermometer’s low reading at the hospital. Had the blood transfusion at least helped with that? Maybe, maybe not. More blood in his system should have improved his circulation, but it wasn’t like the doctor had heated the blood up either. If it helped, it would take time, and he didn’t feel any warmer yet. Then again, he also hadn’t felt particularly cold earlier. Not being able to tell one way or the other, he hoped the shower would warm him up.

Kaiba turned the water on and pushed the temperature past the point where he was usually comfortable. Hesitantly he tested the water with his fingertips. It wasn’t scalding like he expected, just warmer. It would do.

The shower itself was uneventful through relaxing. What few remaining smells from the dumpster went down the drain, and the sour smell from his hand quickly disappeared with it. Even after his nose was convinced the taint was gone, he scrubbed to get even the trace of the thoughts off of his skin. He didn’t want even a speck of dust from tonight to be left touching him, but with the water beating against back, it was easy to occasionally just stop and stare off into space. By the time, he exited the shower, it was already one o’clock in the morning.

Exiting the shower, he was left with one final choice: what to clothes to wear to see his brother.

He considered putting the spare school uniform away, and changing into pajamas instead. He may have worked until dawn more than a couple nights, but tonight the idea of shutting the world out and resetting- if not everything else- then at least his own mind and brain was alluring. Moreover, even if he didn’t want to go to bed, he knew Mokuba would insist on it, especially given his current physical condition. Isono already tried to. Perhaps the two were right.

However, he also didn’t feel remotely tired, and there was so much to do. He started putting the school uniform back on, thought his time with access to his spare packer, a binder, and a pair of shoes, while making a mental to do list for later.

Isono had mentioned that the Big Five were getting antsy over stock prices, but how had they actually responded to the news of him going missing? Kaiba had worked hard to check them in place, to strike a certain balance between them, and while he had no doubt that they kept their reactions guarded, he knew they harbored no grief over his disappearance. The question really was instead whether they had made any plans in his absence, and if so what those plans were. Tonight would be an invaluable time to sort through the possibilities, check for traces of any suspicious activity, and formulate counter plans.

Fortunately, it likely wouldn’t take much. They already knew at this point what he was capable of.

That was of course on top of that was the work he had fallen behind on. After the attempt on his life, the schoolwork felt even more frivolous than ever, but his work at Kaiba Corp felt more important. It was his life.

In addition to the usual duties of a CEO such as setting company policy and meeting with the board who in this case was simply the Big Five, he prided himself on getting involved in company projects. Not micromanaging them certainly. There were too many projects, and the individual projects were too big for that. But, even before he had taken the company’s reins, his inventions had taken the company to new heights. It was only natural that he continued to tinker and provide technical advice. Some departments had even made a habit of asking him for input, though the tasks they needed help designing and analyzing algorithms for were sometimes quite strange.

Isono had said the projects weren’t urgent and that they could wait, and he should first make sure that everything else was settled, but sinking his teeth into a project sounded like such a productive and welcome distraction from the past night.

The past four nights, Kaiba reminded himself as he finished buttoning the outer shirt and went to grab a pair of shoes from the closet. He was attacked four nights ago.

That in and of itself was something to look into. While Shadi’s comment did suggest that his attacker did have some relation to Yugi, he had no way to prove it, and with Shadi running interference at the police department, the department might not even help if he could. But, he needed to know who had attacked him. He needed to be able to do something about it.

All of that, he thought as he finished tying his shoes, was for later. Now was for Mokuba.

Kaiba walked the short distance down the hall to Mokuba’s room, pace quickening as he could already smell him- at least what he presumed to be him- before even opening the door. Cracking the door open, he saw Mokuba laying there peacefully on the bed that was entirely too big for him. Kaiba reached over to turn the light on, and Mokuba shifted uncomfortably but did not wake. Kaiba moved to kneel beside the bed and rested a hand on Mokuba’s arm, giving him a slight shake.

Mokuba’s eyes fluttered open and then immediately lit with joy and astonishment. “Brother, you’re… you’re...”

A smile broke on his brother’s lips as he struggled to get the words out, and Kaiba felt a smile threaten to crack his own face in half. “I’m here.” He grabbed Mokuba’s hand in reassurance.

Mokuba began to tremble, and his eyes began to water. Kaiba felt his heart drop, and he began to panic, worried that something was wrong, that his hand still wasn’t warm enough. His brother sat up, and the words poured out. “The cops kept acting like it wasn’t that big of a deal. That since they had confirmed that the Mutous hadn’t done anything and since no one posted ransom that you’d just wandered off or something. They posted reports and the reporters swarmed with questions, but you could tell that they were all just thinking,” Mokuba raised is free hand to do air quotes while he mocked, “‘Its only been two days. I’unno, a kid running a company, maybe he cracked under the stress. Imagine he’s out partying.’ It was awful. Only today did they start to understand how bad it was, and the only cop who took it seriously from the beginning told me that you were probably dead.”

That was probably Shadi. Kaiba was finding more and more reasons to hate that man. He gently squeezed Mokuba’s hand. “He was wrong. I am alive.” He let Mokuba continue.

“Well, you were gone, and it sucked. Kisara couldn’t find you, and she checked everywhere. She said she had even went to the Kame Antique Store herself before going to the police. She kept stopping by as if to check that I hadn’t disappeared too. And, even if you sometimes don’t come home, you always answer your phone when your phone when I call, and you didn’t. You weren’t pestering me to do my homework, and you weren’t waiting to see me off when I left in the morning. You didn’t tell me I should go when they gave me time off.” The tuh-thub in his brother’s chest had been steadily quickening, but now jumped faster. Mokuba pouted, and anger hissed out of his lips. “Where were you?”

Kaiba was at first taken back by his brother’s anger, but then again he was angry too.

Damn the boy for hurting him and then leaving him for dead, tossing him aside like trash. Damn the boy for making him wake up in the dumpster, pinned down not just by the garbage but by the overwhelming odor. Damn the boy for making him wake up again surrounded by death. For making him shirk his responsibilities to his company, to his brother. For putting his brother through this. He hated all of this, every ounce of this situation, and since it was the boy’s fault, he hated the boy most of all.

Kaiba felt himself shift with the rage, as if his body was ready to fight- physically fight- the boy right then and there. But his enemy wasn’t here. Only Mokuba. And, in any case, battles were won on the mental playing field not the physical one. So while he held onto his rage, he let the feeling pass before answering. “Somebody attacked me. Tried to kill me and almost succeeded. But, I’m finally better. I’m back.”

“Better? Bro, you look sick.”

“The doctor said I was in shock, and the blood transfusion is still kicking in.” He didn’t want to inflict the details on his brother, but he couldn’t hide them either. “I blacked out. Then, I was trapped… buried under trash. If I could have come back sooner I would have.”

“Who? Who did this?” Mokuba almost yelled.

“I...” Kaiba lowered his head. “I don’t know. I’m going to find out.”

“Good.” Mokuba puffed his chest out defiantly, pulling his hand out of Kaiba’s to curl it into a fist. “Cause when you do, I’m going to personally let him have a piece of my mind.”

A chuckle escaped Kaiba’s lips. While the idea of his brother actually trying to fight his attacker was rather disconcerting, he knew Mokuba was smart enough to not try it, at least so literally. He fussed his brother’s hair. “And, steal from me the satisfaction of doing it myself?”

“I guess not, but at least let me get in a few licks.”

“I’ll consider it.”

They sat there in comfortable silence for a moment before Mokuba finally reached over for a hug that Kaiba accepted. He pulled Mokuba in, glad to have the tactile reminder that his brother was here, that he was here, that the night was almost over. He couldn’t say that everything would be okay; things were rarely anything approaching okay. Yet, perhaps things would start to get back to normal, and at least he knew he could handle normal. He rested his head on Mokuba’s shoulder.

Suddenly there was a noise- a downward flow- by his left ear. The noise itself was soft and subtle, barely there, but it felt like a thousand hooks catching on his brain, pulling him in closer. His body shifted again but in anticipation.

Kaiba breathed in, and his brother’s scent and all its nuances filled his lungs, wafting through his nose, sliding over his teeth, and tickling the back of his throat. Despite his attempts to remind himself that none of that was real, that his nose was probably lying, every detail seemed so real. In addition to the shampoo clinging to his brother’s hair and the detergent sticking to his clothes, there was the lingering trace of chocolate, probably from a parfait his brother had downed before bed without anyone to tell him not to. Behind that was an aura of relief, fragrance of joy, and tangs of anger. It was a turmoil with his brother’s exhaustion evident. A frown flicked across his features.

The downward flow- no two downward flows, a larger one hidden behind the first, too deep to reach- called. While Mokuba’s scent carved itself into Kaiba’s mind, his throat lurched. Saliva flooded his mouth.

Despite Mokuba’s exhaustion, Kaiba’s senses screamed that his brother was at least here and healthy. The rhythmic pounding in his brother’s chest. The full delicate balance of his brother’s scent. The breathing by his ear. The downward flows. Life. It had been a long four days, but they had survived and come out the other side. Kaiba squeezed his brother in closer, his right arm snaking around till his hand rested on the left nape of his brother’s neck. His brother squeezed back. He was here. He was home. Mokuba was alive.

Alive.

The word hung in his mind before ripping in two.

Two next logical thoughts pulled at his attention, both demanding, nagging, insisting that they and they alone be next, yet chaffing and contradicting each other. Caught in the tug of war, he could barely think either. His brow creased.

The thoughts did agree on something though. Good. Alive was good.

He lightly shook his head to clear his thoughts before it turned into a tilt, and his jaw opened as if in a yawn.

“You monster!” A young voice cracked through the room. If the downward flow had been a thousand hooks, the voice was like ripping off velcro, almost literally as Kaiba jerked away to look up, upper lip pulling back in anger. The whole world readjusted and refocused.

Mokuba had not spoken.

Instead staring him down as if he were evil incarnate was a young Seto, wearing the shirt and sweater vest from his time at the orphanage some six years ago. The young Seto’s eyes were narrowed in a glare, hands curled into tiny fits that pounded at the air, and round cheeks trembled with rage.

Fuck.

Author’s note: Yeah that may not have been the best place to put your face, Kaiba.

But, yeah, I knew I wanted the “You monster!” thing early on especially when he got back to see Mokuba, and then at some point a part of me was like ‘you know a person’s face can get really close to another person’s neck during a hug’ and I looked at that part of me and went ‘You’re evil. I hate it and love it.’

Also, my logic with the blood transfusion was that the curse would be really happy because ‘yay, blood’ but it is also really confused and not used to processing it this way. So, this leads to it giving Kaiba a disorganized euphoria. However, I’m not going to deny that this started as ‘Lol, what if blood transfusions made vampires high, lol’

Did you catch that moment with two layers of dramatic irony at once?

#yugioh #ygo #seto kaiba #mokuba kaiba #isono #roland #vampire #vampire au #body horror #near major character death #no one dies though #hallucinations #fanfic #orgnpst #cliffhanger #do not kill me #dramatic irony #fic: adjusting to the dark #attd content

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its--this · 5 years

Text

The worlds greatest punching bag: something I wrote when I was 17

Be calm. Be cool. Because everything will ultimately be okay. To the edge of the universe and back, endure and survive. This is how I feel my momentum. When the world gets swirly - like you've chugged a whole bottle of fat lamb - I know it’s only temporary. There are times when I burn, and people love to watch the fire burn, and there are times when I am just ash. Then it starts again. Life has made me a phoenix.

Let’s start with the dream experience: I’m on the front of this guys bike, its afternoon, so close to darkness, and we’re riding through a cute neighbourhood with asbestos houses that have no air con and picket fences. The air is cold, but its thrilling, like rushing headfirst into a long drop, but it's okay, because you'll land in water, and the water will carry your inertia. The sky is so sweet, like a gentle painting with raspberry cola, blood, and pool water. He was my first love, and became, at times, my only friend. Turns out he never loved me. Casually. Here begins the spiral.

17 years into my life sentence and I regret nothing. Call me Jane. I’m a Scorpio, short, and a loser, I guess. My hair is not black, its brown. My life is a giant facepalm and frustration, and everything is burning and there's Bunnings snags. People seem to avoid me like the plague, but it’s okay, I think. I don’t know why. I just want to make everyone happy. Whatever. If they don’t want this unique ray of sunshine with the face of a sunflower, fire around the iris and a single dimple on the left side of the smile, then that’s their loss. Which makes sense, because I’m a loser. I’m meant to be lost. I have no other explanation. It’s why I’ve lost every single friend I’ve made and now have none. Casually.

Welcome to the life of the world’s greatest punching bag.

I don’t know myself. I have this friend, and she tells me things about me. She follows me everywhere. She tells me when people don’t want me around. 'Oooh no baby girl what is you doin’? They don’t want you here.' What somebody thinks of me. Casual commentary on my behaviour and actions. She hates many things. Fingers clicking, knuckles cracking, popping, it's disgusting, mouth noises of all kinds. It makes her twitch, clutch her head, thrash around and scream. Casually. Recently she’s brought another friend. He tells me like it is. If an event isn’t worth excitement, or how much effort it would require. How much effort anything is. They both steal my food sometimes, and I become a spooky scary skeleton. Like I’m not one already. He told me I’d be better off dead. Casually.

So my life pretty much revolves around these guys.

On a good day she'll just poke and poke. Poke my front. Poke my hands. Poke my feet. She knows how to move my blood, slowly tracing her fingers, and it jumbles all in my centre, like a warm, thick pool of honey and sugar and brown sugar and cinnamon and syrup and molasses with soap-flavoured milk at room temperature. But it's a good day. It returns in a heartbeat. She makes butterflies out of capillaries, and the butterflies are scared. She might not mention him. They must be lovers. Harlequin and Joker, twisted, contorted, stuck together, morphed into a horrid, sad, tragic, but beautiful, insane mess. On a good day she does her own thing. I can almost look people in the eye. I can shut her up. I can burn. I can look sane.

On a bad day, they're both here. They're drunk, laughing, stumbling together. They're like fresh babies. Nothing in the world matters but themselves, and they never grew out of that. All that's on their mind is suffering and agony for their viewing pleasure. I cant speak. My hands fidget. They string me up like a puppet and flail me violently in the air, shove me into a clear plastic bag, semi full of water, and shake and shake and shake and I'm flopping around like I'm at 42 Wallaby Way, Sydney. She tells me of all my failures, how I'm not good enough, reminding me how nobody wants me around, how I, myself, am a failure. He tells me he wants me dead, that nothing is worth anything, and I should probably stop trying. This continues. Until all my bones are broken, tendons snapped, lungs filled, and I'm floating belly up. Casually.

Now let me tell you, it wasn't a breakup that spun me around blindfolded and pushed me out the door. I was already spinning. Already blindfolded. It just pushed me out of the door. I couldn't recognise, before, who these friends were. They've been around for years, and for those years, I've been searching. Searching for ways to remove them. Wandering, hoping, maybe they won't find me. Thinking, maybe, because I'm such a loser, maybe, I've lost my mind. I really thought that. I really, really thought that I didn't, I mustn't exist. I can't make this up.

There's this place, this beach, and I still remember the first time I felt the water. I knew this girl, and she had many friends. Each time I saw her get up off of the sand, I tried pulling her back. I tried calling her back. I tried fighting her friends. I tried arming her. I tried. But she still moved into the water. And I, pulling so desperately on her arm, was dragged in. Her blood covered my hands. The water touched my feet, pierced the blue veins like sharp icy Lego bricks and metal tacks. She moved further in. I struggled to keep her above the water. Then I started to sink. I let her go, and fought for the shore. To the edge of the universe and back, endure and survive. I endured, I survived. She sank. Casually. I'm a loser. I lose things.

We all exist on this beach. Some sit on the sand. Some wander blindfolded. Some walk on the water. Some swim. And I've seen some sink. My friends live in the water. Every time I get up, my legs carry me unwillingly to my destination. I wade through the water, cold, stinging salt water. And then I'm swimming. We all enter the water at some point. Whether you sink or swim is up to you.

I, though. I float.

Because up there, in the sky is another friend I have. Her name is hope.

Be calm. Be cool. Because, everything, will ultimately be okay.

#short story #writing #inspo #inspiration #sad #rant #diary #teenagers #love #breakups #depression #anxiety

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ersmajesty-blog · 7 years

Text

Truth or Dare

”Truth or dare?”

Jimin’s voice is soothing, leaving you in a sense of tranquility, even though the words make your skin prickle and your eyes avert from his.

”Truth”, you answer, too many seconds later, finally meeting his steady gaze. He is biting his lower lip now, revealing his crooked but still perfect teeth, while giving you the smile only God himself can interpret.

”What are you thinking about?”. His smile broadens; teeth leaving their gentle grip of the lower lip, eyes becoming two dark slits.

Before you can stop yourself, you swallow. The saliva seems to vibrate from nervousness, amplifying the sound when it passes your throat. You have to say something, but instead your mouth is left half open, and your eyes blankly staring into his.

You are thinking about how slender his body looks in his black button-down, and how his baggy ripped jeans still shows his well sculpted legs, his muscular thighs… You are thinking about how the open fire makes a mix of orange, yellow and red dance across the right side of his face, and how it makes his hair glow, like the strands themselves are caught in flames. You are thinking of how it would feel like to run your fingers through his silver hair once again, of how his breath feels against your neck, and of how his lips feels against your skin. The urge to get up, to get closer to him, is almost as consuming as his dark eyes.

You are thinking of many things, yet no words are leaving your lips. Because you can’t tell him. You can’t. Instead you take a deep sip of the bubbly liquid in your half full glass, almost emptying it, and watch him as he sits in the sofa opposite to you - his left leg over the other, his right hand holding the full glass so that it doesn’t fall over on his knee, while the other hand’s pointer finger makes light circles on the armrest’s black leather. The poorly lit up room is making his still statue look like the angel you know he isn’t.

“What are you thinking about?”, you answer, when it is clear that he won’t say anything until you do.

“You.” The word is penetrating, as if he read your mind and epitomized it into one single word. His smile is gone, his lips closed. His eyes, now perfectly revealead, are dark as a starless night sky, but burning with a fire more intense than the sun.

“That is not how this game works, though” he declares, standing up abruptly. He makes his way to your very front, leaving his glass on the small marble table. “What are you thinking about?”

You break the eye contact - his burning gaze seems to emit a heat that radiates through every vein, every artery, every capillary in your body.

“You want the long answer, or the short one?”, you say, and look up, surprised of your own voice. He looks surprised, too. Amused, nevertheless.

“The long one”, he replies, his smile tinting the words.

The effects of the consumed alcohol is starting to reach its peak: filling you with its tingling courage, embracing your brain in a comfortable fogginess. So you let go of your reserved self, you ignore the part of your brain that’s telling you to be the way you so forcefully try to be. That’s when you stand up; Jimin’s chest is only a couple of centimeters from yours, from you.

“I dare you to touch me”, you say as you inhale deeply, hoping to get as much of his scent into your system. And you get enough; he smells of sweet- and spiciness, of mysteriousness and of pure lust.

“Is that the long answer?”, he says, not trying to hide his well noticeable pleasure.

“No. I dare you to touch me”, you say firmly.

“Where?”

“Everywhere”, the word is followed by a hot breeze against your face. He closes his eyes, his mouth still half open. Before you have the chance to admire the view of his unconstrained appearance, he opens his eyes and grabs you by the neck.

“Is that your long answer?”, he breathes - the words are no longer following a smile.

“I dare you to kiss me”, you say, more demanding than intended. Jimin’s head approaches your face, but evades by just a couple of centimeters, heading towards your ear.

“I dare you to stop me” he whispers, sending another wave of goosebumps through your body, just as you can feel your subconsciousness deafen your now lost consciousness; so you just close your eyes, and become aware of your fastening breathing as his soft lips gently skims over your neck, up to your left ear, down again to your neck pit. From there he licks you up the other side of your neck and ascends from your skin right below the jaw, right next to his thumb that still holds you in its possessive grip.

“Fuck, I want you.” His mouth close to your ear.

“I’m not stopping you from anything”, you say, while trying to compose the aroused butterflies in your belly. However, failing to do so, you raise your yearning arms and grab a hold his face with your hands, ready to eliminate the aching distance between the two of you. But the pain washing over his soft features interferes with your move - with only one previous memory of his face looking like that - and instead he speaks.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” From playful, to assertive, to emotional. Not knowing what is trying to be implied, and not caring enough to let it affect the delectable moment, you proceed with the move.

“Kiss me. It doesn’t matter if it hurts”

Unexpectedly, the grip around your neck tightens, while his other hand pulls you towards him by your waist. And so he kisses you; his lips opening and closing around yours, his tongue invading and seizing the innocence your mouth has to offer, and which you are pleased to give.

It comes as a shock, when he as suddenly pulls back, and makes a gesture for you to sit right down, on the fluffy mat. Stunned by the sudden change of course, you do as you’re told. He sits down next to you, using the sofa to support his back. and speaks

“Truth or dare”, he says with surprising composure; no signs of your previous actions. His serene demeanor is the exact opposite of the excitement that fuels your rapid pulse, so it takes every muscle in your body to seem as unaffected.

“I think it’s my turn to ask”, you say, astonished over how well you keep the act together.

“Truth”, your inner self is sulking over the discouraging answer, so you decide to be equally undramatic.

“One place you would go, if you could?”

He sits up, with his legs to the side. And raises his hand to your face where he gently rests the palm on your flushed cheek.

“I’m already there.”

You say nothing, just stare at him, deciding to ignore the succumbing anwer.

“Truth or dare?”

“Dare”

“I dare you to tell me why you ended it”

“This is definitely not how this game works”

Back to being playful, he just grinns, his face bereft of all emotional feelings. You sigh.

“Because of all this”, you explain, circling your hands with excessive indignation in front of you. “Too much doing, so little talking.”

“I am talking. I was talking.”

“I mean, just too much shallow stuff. We never spoke about feelings…” You pause, giving him chance to agree on the matter. His silence obligates you to continue.

“And I say WE, because neither of us did. I didn’t. So I’m not blaming you. We are obviously not suited for eachother relationship wise.” You look at him with grave sincerity. He looks back, raising his eyebrows, as if giving a persuasive speech.

“I disagree with you” he says, overly prudish. “I knew you had feelings for me, you knew I had feelings for you.”

“We KNEW, through actions, that we found each other somewhat attractive. And that’s it.” Irritation leaves your lungs along with the spoken words.

He exhales while taking your hand into his, staring at it. His face emotionless.

“You knew I loved you”, he says, not leaving your hands with his eyes

“No, I didn’t. You never told me. Fourteen months and you never told me.” You try to look as neutral as possible “And I never told you” you add.

He prepares to speak, but you quickly interrupt his thoughts

“Truth or dare?”

Now he looks back at you, his face still stripped from emotions.

“Truth”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You try his cold behaviour.

“Because I thought you knew. Truth or dare?”

“Truth”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I didn’t want it to be true.” He looks at you, obviously taken aback. To save yourself some trouble, you explain your daring statement.

“You were an ass. I felt like your toy, since I wasn’t even sure there were feelings from your side. But, stupid as I a-”

“You are not stupid”

“Shut up. I couldn’t leave you, until I realized that it wasn’t sustainable. But all this doesn’t matter now, you know I moved on. We are really happy.”

“It was sustainable” It’s unsure whether he is sulking or just trying to further provoke you.

“No, it wasn’t. And your lifestyle that you’ve been living since we broke up is not helping anybody. You can’t stay locked up in here forever.”

“It was sustainable, and Taetae is coming over tomorrow”, he gives away a sly smile, clearly in purpose to provoke. And he succeeds.

“Bye, Jimin.” Heading towards the dark corridor, you can feel his eyes stalking you in surprise when you walk past him.

It takes a few seconds before you hear the expected steps behind you. But he says nothing, until he has reached you and grabs your arm.

“Don’t leave me again” he pleads, more commanding than you would like. But you see that inside, he is truly desperate.

“This year without you has been like a nightmare. I want to wake up, I hate this dream”, his face is back to being painted with affliction.

“Why?”

“I need you”

“Why?”

He makes an attempt to kiss you, but you push him away.

“No.”

This time it is his turn to ask: “why?”

“Because I do not need you.” You make sure to stress the last syllables.

“I want you”, and his anguished words are your undoing.

So you kiss him, and he catches your move and embraces you with his whole body: his legs, his arms, his fingertips. You feel everything, yet it feels like it’s not enough.

In a messy pile of lusting arms, legs and breaths on the floor, his body is a pleasant weight on top of yours. It feels wrong, and every bit as good. Jimin’s occasional moans unlocks familiar doors, that usually keep out the darker parts of your unreserved self. Parts that willingly open up to him.

It is by automatic your lower body pushes itself against his leg, rubbing between your legs; his growing lump making its existence noticed against your thigh. Your right hand is pulling his collar, in a desperate attempt to get him even closer to you, while your left hand is clutched around the hair close to the nape of his neck.

“Come back to me”, he whispers through clenched teeth. His fingers shameless seeking underneath your shirt, unbuttoning your pants.

“You know I can’t.”

That’s all you say before you lose yourselves in each other.

You were the last one to see Jimin before Taehyung found him in his apartment - two weeks ago, the night after your visit. That horrible night seemed to continue throughout the whole day, even when the sun rose and filled the air with hope and possibilities.Taehyung squeezes your hand with his soft one, then giving you a smile, shaping every centimeter of his childlike face. It’s a too happy smile for the occasion, but you know it’s an attempt to comfort you. Although it’s not, you smile back, telling yourself it’s to comfort him. He kisses you on the temple, and shifts his attention to the now arrived priest, whose voice echoes within the embellished church walls.

“We have all gathered here today to share memories and say our last goodbyes to our beloved Park Jimin.”

#btsboundmarch #bts #bts scenarios #jimin scenario

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bookiemonsterph · 3 years

Text

City of Bones

Synopsis:

When Clary Fray heads out to the Pandemonium Club in New York City, she hardly expects to witness a murder. Much less a murder committed by three teenagers covered with odd markings. This is Clary's first meeting with the Shadowhunters, Warriors dedicated to ridding the earth of demons - and keeping the odd werewolves and vampires in line. It's also her first meeting with gorgeous, golden-haired Jace. Within twenty-four hours Clary is pulled into Jace's world with a vengeance, when her mother disappears and Clary herself is attacked by a demon. But why would demons be interested in an ordinary mundane like Clary? And how did she suddenly get the Sight? The Shadowhunters would like to know...

Title: City Of Bones Series: The Mortal Instruments Author: Cassandra Clare ISBN: 1416914285 (ISBN13: 9781416914280) Pages: 485 pages (Paperback) Published: March 2013 by Margaret K. McElderry Books (first published May 27th 2007) Characters: Alexander "Alec" Lightwood, Jonathan "Jace" Wayland, Valentine Morgenstern, Isabelle "Izzy" Sophia Lightwood, Magnus Bane, Jocelyn Fray, Luke Garroway, Clarissa "Clary" Fray, Simon Lewis Setting: New York City, New York, 2007 (United States) Genre: Young Adult, Urban Fantasy, Romance, Supernatural, Paranormal

The very first thing that I would like to talk about in this review is the diversity that the author had installed in this novel. I loved how Cassandra Clare had represented a gay character in this novel because to me, I feel like there were not much representation of the LGBTQIA+ community in YA novels and the fact that the author had laid the community in this novel was just fantastic! Therefore, I liked the diverse cast of characters in this book!

Moving on, I would like to discuss on the relationship that Cassie had deposited in this novel. The relationships between the characters were very unique and magical that I thought it was a great experience to have with the casts in this book because everything was not one-dimensional but complex and hard to guess (Does it make sense? I hope so) that I just really relished on how beautiful the experience that I had with this book was. Thus, I enjoyed the relationships that the author had dropped into this book.

Furthermore, we have the pacing that I would like to rattle on in this book review. I would not say that the pacing of this novel is fast or anything because it literally took me two weeks to finish this book due to the level of hardness at the beginning of the novel which I will talk more about later on in the review. However, as I had gotten past the first 150 pages of explanation and the ‘Wikipedia’ of the world, I was immediately sucked back into the story and the pages flew by so quickly that I had a hard time knowing that I actually reached the certain page count. Thus, I did not enjoy the pacing for the beginning of the novel but overall, I thought the pacing was pretty good!

Moreover, we have the beginning and the ending of the novel that I have to converse on in this review. The beginning which I will be conversing on first was filled with world-building and although I enjoyed how well the author had built the world, I could not help but feel how aridity and anti-climatic the beginning was. It was not that the world was not interesting, it was just that the author had included too much of information that resulted in information overload. Plus, nothing really happened in the beginning except for the planning that the characters’ had to bring Clary’s mother back. Thus, I kind of hated the beginning of the book.

In addition, the ending which was non-identical to the beginning of the novel was juicy, action-packed and overall frustrating (in a good way). The ending of the novel clutched on my heart, burned it to the ground and put it back into my chest again with no remorse except for the blisters on it that will never be healed ever again. Sorry for being so dramatic but I really loved the ending for this novel and because of that, I have decided to read book 2: City Of Ashes!

Into the bargain, we have the world-building and atmosphere of this novel that I have to include in this review! The world-building, just like what I have said earlier, was great and it enhanced the reading experience for us, readers. However, the author had included too much of the functions of the world in the beginning that I really found it to be an extremely hard segment to get through. In addition, the atmosphere for this book was exceptionally good because it increased my heart rate as the scenes had gotten intense and while I was reading this book, I can feel the chemicals that were working hard and revolving much around my brain. Plus, when the story came to a closure and the plot twists damaged my brain temporarily, I felt so drowsy that I had to read the next book almost immediately. Thus, I liked the world-building but not that much and I loved the atmospheres that were gyrating around this novel.

Cassandra Clare’s style of writing in this novel was not the best writing style out there- in the literature world, but I did really enjoy how she held onto some interesting words and made them lively. So, here goes the review of the writing style in this book!

The writing style for this book was chatty, articulate, idiomatic and sometimes- verbose. The reason why I said the writing style was verbose because of its constant used of unnecessary sentences to get to the main point that the characters’ were trying to harangue on. However, the writing style was also pretty informal which I, personally, enjoyed because it lets us, readers, see that this is how the characters’ are going to react when they are facing a situation. In addition, it was also very articulate and idiomatic! It keeps the readers in a constant flow of indulging in the book and performing wonders such as their imaginations- in the brain. Thus, I did enjoy the writing style! But I have more to talk about in the below paragraphs.

Presently, we are going to address on the excessive use of commas in this novel. As you can see, I am not the biggest fan of the redundant use of commas in the writing style because it is pretty hard for the readers to get through them and also, if you dive deeper into the novel, it gets very vexatious. And with all of that that I have said, I thought that this novel’s writing style fell into that category of ‘Commas-are-overused’. Furthermore, there were not enough prose to keep the sentences from breaking apart from each other and I thought the sentences do not flow well as they kept falling apart from each other due to the lack of prose like ‘as, because, etc.’ Therefore, it bothered my reading of this book to death due to the flaws in this novel.

Moving on, we are going to discuss about the word choices that Cassandra’s Clare picked to entwine words together to make them feel alive. I thought Cassie did a really good job on picking out words that were added pleasingly to the story and the word drizzled and diffused through each sentence accordingly. Thus, I enjoyed the careful handing out of words for this novel!

Finally, we have the descriptions of the novel that I would like to talk about. The descriptions which I really enjoyed drifted through the book as the scenes in this novel were thoughtfully picked out and the descriptions that had taken place in the book had made everything so easy to be visualized in the brain that I had no hard time trying to conceive anything in my head. Thus, I enjoyed the beautiful descriptions in the novel.

Clary Fray: Almost everyone on the internet called her out as an annoying protagonist but I thought otherwise. To me, Clary was a sympathetic character that I commiserate with and she was somewhat dumb at times but never annoying because the shreds of evidence were clearly placed in front of her eyes but she still managed to overlook them. Furthermore, she was a little cliché because her characterization fell under the category of ‘She-is-pretty-and-I-am-not’ but other than those flaws, I thought she was kind and decent. Therefore, I liked her as a character in this novel.

Simon Lewis: To be honest, I do not really enjoy Simon as a character in this book even though he had the potential to grow as a character in the later novels but I just did not enjoy his perspective because he was whiny, needy and ibwerobgib. Thus, I have nothing to compliment on his character except for the features that he had held.

Jace Wayland: He was the boy with a dark past. Although I did indeed sympathize with how abusive his father was and how everything- for example, the blood that ran in his veins, was not his fault but the blame was somehow atop of his head, he was still a very sarcastic, rude and not-very-sexy person who Isabelle called him out as sexy. I do not understand how a person who is so rude… can be sexy. Therefore, I liked him (again) as a character in this book; but I did not love him as a character in this novel.

Luke Garroway: I loved Luke as a character in this book! He was kind, friendly and ‘Has-Jace’s-Sarcastic-attitude lite‘. He was somehow a character that I commiserate even more because he was stripped of his title as a Shadowhunter and he was also forcefully banned from his own homeland due to the demon disease that flowed in his capillaries. Plus, he was betrayed by his dearest friend who he thought was a brother. Therefore, I loved Luke’s characterization in this novel!

Valentine Morgenstern: I hated him! UGH! THIS VILLAIN WAS A FREAKING ARSEHOLE IN THIS NOVEL LIKE KJFBIJBFABIBFIBA. Basically, words cannot express how irritated (in a good way) I am with him. He was one of the most interesting villains that I had read in a while and I hope he will just jump off the cliff soon. Thus, I loved this villain but hated him (hopefully it makes sense).

Although the ending for this novel was exciting and action-packed, I thought the beginning- somewhere around page 1 to page 100, was pretty dull and anti-climatic. Plus, there were some flaws in this novel that I, personally, did not enjoy. However, I am going to read the sequel to this book because the ending had me shook and I need more of Cassandra Clare’s world and characters. Therefore, I am giving this book a 69.5% rating.

#the mortal instruments #city of bones #cassandra clare

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xeniosfitness · 5 years

Video

youtube

How To Lose Weight WITHOUT Cardio (NO BS Answer) Maybe you’re wondering, is it possible to lose weight without doing Cardio workouts? Many people would think that cardio training is the secret behind losing weight. Well, it’s not. But before we deep dive into this topic, what is a cardio workout, anyway? Subscribe here https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCgXSdvSlKhbUYZQS1GwDUeQ?sub_confirmation=1 Need help reaching your fitness goal? Apply for your complimentary consultation call here https://ift.tt/2Cqa2BP (In order to qualify you to need to watch our free training) About this video: Cardio is a short term for “cardiovascular activity” in fitness. Cardio workout is any training or exercise that raises your heart rate, such as running, cycling, high-intensity interval training, swimming, jumping rope, and rowing. Remember that our heart is also a muscle, and we have to make it stronger. If you have a strong cardiovascular system, it can help you burn more body fat because more capillaries deliver enough amount of oxygen to your cells in your muscles. Now, if you were able to watch our previous videos, I always tell you that your body transformation results come from 80% of what you eat, and 20% comes from your activities. So, to maximize results, you should focus on doing both effectively. To answer the question above, YES, it is possible to lose weight without performing any cardio training. You need to EAT FEWER CALORIES AND EXERCISE MORE. Just like what I always recommend, you should know your first the total calories that your body needs to maintain weight. By the time you know this, you can now have better control of calories that you consume every day. You need to make sure that you are burning more calories than the amount you intake. If you’re eating 2000 calories per day, and you burn 2,500 calories every time you eat that much, then you’re on a caloric deficit of 500. In this example computation, you’ll lose 1 lb. of body weight per week. WHAT’S MY BEST ADVICE FOR YOU THEN? For food lover people, I’d suggest you do cardio workouts for you to enjoy eating without the need to be bothered if you’ll gain weight. If you’re not that kind of food lover and you HATE doing cardio as well, then no problem with that. You can always exclude cardio from your routine, and do whatever you know would be better for you to lose weight. In conclusion, stripping cardio workouts from your training means more restrictions on the food you eat. Include cardio, then you’ll have a higher chance of losing fat while eating the food you love. The latter requires more self-discipline. #weightloss #loseweight #fitness ▶ How did everything start? My name is Xenios Charalambous, and I help busy people lose weight and sustain their results. I started my fitness journey when I was 13 years old, after a rejection I had from a girl at school. I was skinny (103 lbs, 47kg), unhealthy, depressed, addicted to video games, and I had no self-confidence. I struggled through my teens, and I realised that the only person who is responsible for my life's direction is me... so I took action. After years of trial and error, I cracked the code, and I finally transformed my body and mind, but that wasn't enough... I decided to challenge more myself by applying for the special forces. I successfully completed the 2 years training and took my mental strength into a whole new dimension. I shared my story on youtube, went viral all around the world (over 6.7 million views), and my fitness company was found. After getting known worldwide, I moved to London where I was coaching A-List celebrities, partnered with companies like X-Factor, Google, Morgan Stanley and Amazon to train their executives. I now specialise in helping busy individuals lose weight with a proven sustainable system. Since 2013, I've helped hundreds of people worldwide transform their life. Check out my website for more information https://ift.tt/1X5Bnh1 Instagram: https://ift.tt/2KjraQI Facebook: https://ift.tt/1JoGEMN - https://ift.tt/1X5Bnh1

#personal training #personal trainer #fitness

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decker62frederick-blog · 6 years

Text

8 Sun block Mistakes You are actually Probably Creating.

Under a hundred miles off the edge from the Hoover Dam, only away from Las Vegas at the edge of dusty San Bernardino Region, sits a symbol from how the sunlight are going to some time deliver generous amounts of energy for whole entire metropolitan areas. Catch water falls falling off the plant leaves without splashing, overview a water decline via a maze, or jump rubber off obstacles that you draw. Yes, splashing water around never gets old, thus this new visually-appealing common activity will probably make a splash. Most of the songs, accounts, as well as poems deal with challenge, specifically in cries category, as well as numerous concern taking a trip the country. With much more than 200 million folks, South america is still one of the most heavily populated nation in South United States, along with its most extensive market. Forza Horizon 3: Hot Wheels are going to launch on May 9 for Xbox One and also Windows 10. That will be provided as component of the Forza Horizon 3 Growth Pass or as a standalone purchase for $19.99. The globe you are actually dashing in exists for one cause or one more, however you'll likely regularly be pondering why this crazy, advanced community decided to flooding its roads along with water so people could race about on plane skis. Alloting the momentary native-plant irrigation, our 38 gal/day family utilization would imply that cheering the difficulty would certainly lead to our full abstention of energy water utilization. The firm's commodes cleanse themselves with electrolyzed water after every make use of. Water deficiencies, sustained in part through recurring drought and brutality, has actually been wiping out Nigeria for several years. This plan consists of both the Sun and Moon versions from the activity and also ships in an unique steelbook instance that's designed to accommodate both activities. At that point have fun with your pictures in real-time along with functions tools (generate water beads and steam, thaw sound objects, or even specify a photo revolving with wind). This water drone is a crossbreed, combining a tiny quadcopter along with a lightweight drifting structure. Experts are actually still studying exactly how global warming could affect climatic waterways on their own, although there is contract that as temps climb, more heavy precipitation is probably to drop as rainfall in much higher elevations rather than snow, which would certainly induce even more strain on water facilities like the Oroville Dam. This implies that when you appear right down in to the water it seems quite transparent, yet when you look all over the water's surface at a low angle it seems practically completely reflective. In 2014's Asphalt may be beaten even when half-drunk, yet not this time - you will be actually tested from the very beginning. These problems equate into option for water companies, and the water market's massive dimension - an approximated $400 billion to $FIVE HUNDRED billion each year, Gleick mentioned - includes in the destination. In Haiti, only one-quarter of citizens possess accessibility to bathrooms, baseding on the Globe Bank. He acknowledges that Israel should purchase desalination, but questions the dosage, recommending this would certainly be far better to desalinate less, and put in a lot more in eco-friendly solutions for the water scarcity. But at today instant, there are no concrete plans." Back then, Nintendo thought as though the theme park will should have an authentic spin, and also Iwata did certainly not eliminate the probability. In http://radio-clinics.info , Needed to have for Rate: Hot Quest acts as the perfect advert for the police, those showing off the blues and also 2s seemingly able to take down bad guys in vehicle goes after with low initiative. Presently, 87 per-cent from Apple's procedures worldwide operate on renewable resource. Unlike the rest of the phases in Where's My Water, these bonus offer amounts make use of the accelerometer in your iPhone or iPad to control gravitation and also send water in any type of instructions you simply. I believe our team might have water as well as electric energy - yet that is actually certainly not that plan that is being actually carried out. http://radio-clinics.info is going to be actually the website of the position services from the Rio 2016 Olympic Games as well as was the internet site from the 2014 Globe Cup final. Heil DP. Acid-base balance and moisture standing observing usage of mineral-based alkaline mineral water. That's your job to use a boat via the water and after that go out to climb up these towers. The reported opportunities from daybreak and sundown are actually typically looked up coming from dining tables or even resources that compute that. The computation for a specific place can be intricate as well as is dependent on the site's latitude. Step 2: Consume the Correct amount from Detoxified Water - Dehydration reduces your rate of metabolism down, along with the all-natural recovery process of the body system. Choose seeds coming from bush plants around you, plant all of them in plots that you lay down, water them as well as nourish all of them along with plant food (everything pooes after eating calories, which could at that point be actually composted, as well as some plant food is actually far better in comparison to others). An accordion from nonmaterial crafted from lava fibers sucks in water with capillary activity. You should pinch the balloon in between both of red gateways to put this. Use prudent eruptions from water from the tube to maintain this risen between evictions: ideally, this will receive entraped and also stood out. Firstly, head right into your 'elements' food selection (top-left icon), select the ground factor, and also drag your hands along your unit's monitor to dump some into the water to generate mud. The BBC Climate app would certainly be it if there can simply be actually one climate application. My sun will be actually shining if that could possibly be actually specified as the default climate application on the apple iphone. Finally, reverse osmosis (RO) is another alternative, requiring water by means of membrane layers that exclude the saline ions. The adjustment implies in-store personnel can easily look at the overall problem of an apple iphone for trade-in regardless of whether or not the humidity sensor is indicating water damages. Environmental Civil liberties Action/Friends from the Earth Nigeria pointed out in its own 2016 document that the water scarcity might be better managed with enhanced financial appropriation to the water field (in some areas, state lobbyists, everything is actually required is actually amount of money for chemicals). Sunrise claims 1 in 5 Americans possess a psychological wellness disorder, however a 3rd of those targets get no therapy. Affection or hate their far-out ventures like self-driving cars and trucks and also augmented-reality glasses, you fair to middling that they're certainly not trying to modify the globe. The brand-new research benefited from an extra pristine file of Planet's initial water: Volcanic rocks coming from Iceland as well as Baffin Island in the Canadian Arctic. That can give you a family of water per four people per day." MOFs are still in experimental stages, yet chemical business have started scaling all of them up for commercialization-- as well as right now Wang said she might acquire all of them for concerning 10 bucks each kilo (though various other MOFs are actually much more expensive). The more severe the water deficiency, the brisker the business for some water homeowners.

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thelordfool · 6 years

Text

When The Sun Rises - Chapter Six

Determination

“Aber- Courier,” The doctor corrected himself, “do you intend to take up Mr. House on his request?”

“Absolutely! ...Not. You are allowed to call me Aberdeen, you know. I won't get mad.”

“I just wasn't sure, is all.” Arcade reached up to wipe the sleep from his eyes, remembering on contact with his helmet that he wasn't able to. The courier had fashioned them both a way to hang their helmets from their necks, freeing their hands in case of attack, but Arcade was on the paler side and feared sunburn more than he probably should.

“After last night? Pff,” Aberdeen waved a dismissive hand. “Man, you could call yourself my best friend after all that money you won us. How'd you do it? Even my luck isn't that good.” The doctor merely shrugged.

“Couldn't tell you. First time in a while I really cut loose, too. I ought to thank you for that.”

“Nah, don't think of it. You deserved it. We both did.”

“I don't mean to pry, but... I assume your mission went the way you intended it to.”

The courier stopped in his tracks. They had set out of the Strip early that morning, headed south. Before they even could get off the premises of The Tops, someone stopped them – a spy of the Legion. He granted the courier the mark of Caesar, as the leader of the most feared group in the Mojave and outlying regions (save for the former Enclave) wished to speak to Courier Six himself. Aberdeen had intended to go south, anyway, but not out to Cottonwood Cove. He had Primm set in mind, which was very much west of the eastern dock town. Arcade argued with him about it, but Aberdeen shot him down – he had business elsewhere in the region, regardless. Plus, it was just a bit south of Novac. He could get a rest in his own bed, for once. Afterwards, they stopped in at the Silver Rush to pick up some extra microfusion cells and to get Aberdeen's - “What was it called again?” “A LAER. Laser-assisted electrical rifle. Picked it up out in the Big Empty. This one's modified, though.” “What is a Big Empty?” “Sigh.” repaired. It was his main weapon of choice, but it had seen better days. Arcade was basically a kid in a candy shop in that place, giddy as can be. Boy had a thing for energy weapons, it seemed, and the courier took note of that.

“Aberdeen?”

“Sorry. Got lost in thought there. Guess you could say it did,” he picked up the pace again. “We got a long walk ahead of us. Do you mind if we stop in a few places that've caught my eye?”

“I don't see why not.”

“Good. Also, do you mind if I turn on the radio? I hate long periods of silence. Drives me nuts.”

“Again, go right ahead.”

It was mid afternoon by the time they reached the REPCONN headquarters. Aberdeen was stiff from a previous fight with some Fiends earlier, and now there were loads of robots lying in wait ahead of them.

“I know this place, some of the history behind it,” commented Arcade. He prattled on a bit about it as they approached. “What are we here for?”

“Well, I had a... friend, yeah, a friend, who needed some repairs done on an old eyebot.”

“What, like the ones the Enclave used?”

“One and the same. I got the repairs done, but... Something happened to the eyebot, and I'm just wondering if I can find anything I need to get it back in operable shape.” Aberdeen was leaving something out on purpose. The men both had their secrets, and that was fine, but Arcade's suspicion was heightened by this. Did he, too, have connections to the Enclave? No. No way, impossible. Something was... off about this.

“We might be able to take a rest here, too. Granted nothing inside decides to shoot at us. C'mon.”

The men entered the facility. A Mr. Handy greeted them, offering them a tour. The corpses of a few Fiends lay in the main lobby area. Guess they declined a the tour in a less-than-friendly fashion. Aberdeen looked over to Arcade. “You wanna give this old rust bucket some purpose?”

“Oh, I'd love to!” His enthusiasm was boundless. The old bot led them through a set of double doors into a room filled display cases and old, err, safety barrels. Nothing interesting, as all the barrels were empty and even the vials of 'plasma' were just colored, slightly irradiated, water. The next room had models of rockets, again, nothing actually interesting to the courier, though Arcade was filled with glee and reading every plaque.

“This is so interesting – much of it is a bunch of pre-war bureaucratic malarkey – but the technology that's since progressed from this point... astounding, how even in the aftermath of a nuclear apocalypse, mankind continues to push forward.”

Though Aberdeen wanted to say something wise in response, he merely gave a light punch to the doctor's shoulder. “Nerd.”

“The geek shall inherit the Earth!” It was said with a smile, even if Arcade's face could not be seen.

“'Blessed are the meek; for they shall inherit the Earth.' Matthew, 5:5.”

“When's the last time you read the Bible?”

“A little too recently.” An odd moment it was, when he came across that Bible cached deep within a desk that had been laying underground for years. He strained to read it in the blood-red light trickling through a crack, an ironic prayer that it would put his mind at ease and he could sleep within that buried building and nothing would come to eat him during his restless dreams.

There was an uncomfortable pause. “It was a nice joke, though,” the courier chuckled. “Guess I just have a bad sense of humor when I'm focused.”

Already the Mr. Handy had progressed to the third room of the tour, and through the doors the courier could see what he wanted: a standard, albeit ancient, eyebot. His heart sank upon approaching it, however. Much like everything else on the tour, it was but a hollow replica of the real thing.

“ED-E might never be repaired,” he murmured to himself. Even if he could, he thought, would it be the same ED-E after he exploded like that? “Fuck!”

“Pardon me, sir,” the Mr. Handy said, “I'll have to ask you to refrain from using such language in the presence of the other rocketeers. Onwards, to the observatory!”

“Aberdeen, it doesn't take a genius to see that something's wrong, here.”

“It's nothing,” he muttered bitterly. “Literally. There's nothing here I can use. It's just a plastic piece of junk.”

“Do you think it'd be worth checking out the rest of the building? You know, in case they have a real one stashed away somewhere?” The courier shook his head, no. “Maybe there's something else in here, then, maybe you can find parts off another robot-”

“Arcade,” the man said softly. “I appreciate what you're trying to do. But unless there's a RobCo around these parts, I don't think I'll have any luck.”

“It'd make sense for there to be one, considering the owner of RobCo. I mean, he even bought REPCONN out. Doesn't make much sense to me.”

“Wait, who's the owner of RobCo?”

Arcade turned to stare at his companion. “I was literally talking about it less than fifteen minutes ago. Were you not listening?”

“...No.” The punch Aberdeen had given the doctor earlier was returned.

“Asshole.”

“Takes one to know one.”

“Don't deflect. Your poor listening skills are a sign of misdirected focus. If you hyper-focus on one thing, then you'll miss out on all the rest. Also, it makes you look like a jerk. Listen to your friends when they talk to you.”

“Okay, okay, I'm sorry, I'll do better to do that from now on.”

“You better.”

Plans changed after that to make headway for the 188 trading post. It was considerably safer than an abandoned building, filled with robots who could mistake the pair for intruders. On the way, Aberdeen listened to how the founder of RobCo was a Robert House, who may very well be the same Mr. House that runs New Vegas now. Or some decedent of the original. Something like that. RobCo had bought out REPCONN to get into the aerospace business, because, why not?

Dusk was starting to settle on the horizon. One thing Arcade noticed was that his companion was the type to stop and smell the roses – if roses grew out here, that was. Figure of speech aside, when there was something worth looking at, Courier Six would pause to stare, removing his helmet to take it in. And the sunsets around here were always worth looking at. It blasted the skies in hues of pink and orange, a deep, dark blue creeping in like capillary action. The clouds were never the same, or often just not there, and on the horizon, buildings melted into mountains.

The duo briefly wondered, without speaking, if that was what it looked like on impact of an atomic bomb. People were just dying to see it! The courier chastised himself for such dark humor.

“Aberdeen?”

“Hm?”

“How's your eyesight, with that injury?”

He reached up and gently traced over his left eye. He could barely open it, but by the grace of God, it hadn't been actually harmed. The deathclaw that had ruined his once devilishly handsome face had only gotten to swipe across the bridge of his nose, skipping just barely over the eye itself, and up over his brow. Most his eyelid and socket were scarred, making it difficult to lift the lid.

“Not great. My depth perception is off.”

“Not that anyone could tell with the way you were shooting earlier.” He glanced over to see his companion smirking.

“My peripherals, too. Can't tell you how many times afterwards ED-E would sneak up on me.” He had said it casually, without thinking, as if Arcade would know who he was talking about.

“Eddie?”It was pronounced with less of a pause between syllables, the way Six had done it. “Was... that a friend of yours?”

So he didn't hear him in REPCONN.

“...” He was angry. He had slipped. He hated what had happened out in the Divide. He hated thinking about how he ruined so many lives, and then another fell before him to stop it from happening again. It scrambled his brain. The wind-whipped, isolated land, pocketed with craters from detonated warheads. Tunnels seeking to drag him into a poisonous den. Ulysses, taunting him. He was a fool to follow the signs. You can go home, Courier Six! But he wouldn't. Not until he reached the end. And, in the end, the only thing keeping him going was gone, all because he was too cowardly to seek the missiles on the Legion.

“A lover, then,” Gannon concluded with a smug tone. “Didn't take you to be the romantic type.”

“He was not a lover!” The courier stopped and pivoted in his tracks, reaching out to the doctor. “You don't speak of ED-E from here on, cogitesne?!” His fist had closed around the edges of the duster. Despite Arcade's near half foot of height on the courier, he was dwarfened.

The rage radiating off the courier was palpable. Arcade had felt this fear only a few times before. And then, after a rather pregnant pause, his face sofened, but not to one of a joke, or joy, but to that of abject horror.

“Oh... oh, God,” he dropped his companion, stumbling a few steps backwards. “Arcade, God, I'm so sorry, I... I shouldn't have...”

“I overstepped.” The blonde haired man finally spoke, having caught a breath. “I made light of something that was obviously a serious situation. I deserved it.”

“You did not,” the other croaked. Was he... crying? No, but looked like he was about to. “Fuck.”

This time, there was no Mr. Handy to ask him to mind his manners. Arcade didn't mind. This was the first of many lessons the courier would teach him.

“Let's just... get going, alright? You can talk about it when you're ready.” He reached a tentative hand out to touch the shoulder of Aberdeen, but retracted it. “If you're ready,” he corrected himself.

Aberdeen grasped Gannon's hand, surprising the doctor. It was a handshake-type hold, a promise. They nodded to one another, and trekked down the road to the 188.

That night, Aberdeen would not sleep, only lay flat on his back, staring at an endless abyss of stars. Arcade would remember the feel of Aberdeen's hand, the blisters on exposed fingertips, the carefully filed nails, the welcoming and sorry seeping into him, opposite of when it held him at the throat. He would, unlike the other, eventually fall asleep, a light snore rising from his chest.

This is part six of ? of a slow burn Courier Six (Aberdeen)/Arcade Gannon fic. If you like my work, consider buying me a coffee or donating to my PayPal. I’m working on remaking my commissions post, but I do artwork, as well. I... also need a new tablet, so any tips will be going towards getting one!

If you’d like, drop me a kudos on Ao3 or start from the beginning here on tumblr. This fic is un-beta’d and updated frequently. Shoutout to vertiberd on Ao3, whose works I hungrily consumed, as they were fantastic. Also, big shoutout to the Wiki community for giving me ample material to work off of aside from my own memory.

#art blog #asriel writes fanfiction #fnv #fallout new vegas #fanfiction #fanfic #slow burn #slow burn fic #arcade gannon #courier six #this took me so damn long to write ugh

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crookedlyannoyinglove-blog · 7 years

Text

Aegean Lifestyle.

People have been increasing food, food preparation as well as eating for centuries, but it is actually never ever been actually harder to navigate our meals unit compared to this corrects now. http://e-viesereine.info have actually listened to some various viewpoints on the two parts of the book - some customers pointing out that the 2nd half (after the liberation of Auschwitz) gets, others mentioning that their interest waned then - yet I discovered them each just as tiresome. I failed to appreciate this publication as much as I carried out the present day noir novels of Peter Swanson, yet I do not believe I am actually heading to be actually overlooking this manual any time quickly. This has some anti-animal product prejudice (which is actually why I offered it 4 superstars away from 5), however overall this is actually a great read. This manual seems therefore simple, yet it has to do with many factors simultaneously - bigotry, injustice, social standing, innocence, experience, and complaint. That is actually hard to picture that they are certainly not all terrible and merciless killers, however that's true - perhaps they are actually just folks which have been in ache for too lengthy. Company Full week called Arrington one of the 25 most prominent folks on the web, and Techcrunch has even slashed meetings along with Barack Obama and John McCain. That is really interesting as well as I would suggest this to anyone which is fascinated in to Fairytale and also this publication has quite easy foreign language. Afterwards first full week, having said that, the controls' energies from recall drowsed off considerably, while HSAM individuals remained to have the ability to remember seemingly into all time, with a much shallower forgetting arc. I can not strongly believe that a manual coping with hydrocarbons might be so poetically created and so clearly clarified.

This featured the component in the transcribed diaries off his very early years as his motel's voyeur, however a great part from the composition was new to me. It continued in the very same capillary as the earlier entries-- a litany from uniform sexual activity functions as well as accounts from folks squabbling. Usually, these are actually geographic in nature, regurgitated through companies or governments, to quit individuals residing in specific places having the capacity to view specific factors. Though some 800 million people on the planet currently have to deal with hunger or even malnutrition, most of corn and soy products grown on earth supplies livestocks, chickens as well as pigs. Possessed I review this a handful of years ago this perhaps would possess made a bigger effect on me. It needs to additionally be noted that if you pick this up, make an effort and also discover the hardcover released through McSweeny's as this is actually a masterwork from craft by itself. Basically, a fatality owns a young boy to create amazing art that actually takes on a life from its own, similar to Plascencia's very own target with The People of Paper. I can comprehend featuring authors since there is actually a considerable amount of people enjoying their publications. Westboro always suggested that the difference between Shirley as well as gay people was that Shirley had actually repented of her sin, whereas gays walked in pleasure parades. In other means, the book is so specific as well as private to the Walls household that I never ever would certainly have thought of the tales if I had certainly not been informed all of them. The sub-plots and also stories grabbed beyond creative imagination, the personalities fairly truthfully thought that they were dreamed up in 30 secs and for a publication set in that type of time there certainly must possess been actually a whole lot extra genuine action. The entire media seized this. A headline off Dana Milbank from the Washington Blog post in late October read: Trump can not simply be actually defeated. I understand that I am actually the simply adolescent on this planet which despises this book but in all honesty, I don't care. Individuals that feel to these concepts could rather quickly avoid over the information and proceed continuing reading as the book is going to still bring in total feeling. Our young people today should encounter this ugliness available eyed, lest our team as a society overlook. The Midwest Book Customer review has actually contracted along with Windstorm Cengage Discovering to offer all of them along with digital copies of our publication customer reviews. Malala simply wished the right to visit university and she was shot for this. As children, a lot of our company hated having to go to college and there are people in this particular planet which combat as well as risk their lives for this advantage. Most thinking people nowadays are going to see superb premises to deny that. Yet doubters of the wealthiest, most long-lasting form of popular culture in human past possess a moral commitment to face that instance at its most influential, as opposed to getting themselves a victory on the affordable through savaging this as so much garbage and balderdash. Throughout her life, nonetheless, she never ever loses her feeling of reduction, as well as searching; she unwisely decides on one improper fanatic after another, certainly never fairly finding exactly what she plans to. Just when Alice finally begins to uncover the parts from her past performs her very own seek acceptance, joy, as well as affection roar to lifestyle; as well as she will inevitably be actually drawn back to the lake that professed many from her ascendants. Resolving the secret from just what truly happened to several of these individuals gives the plot for the boo Distinguished the pov from a THIRTEEN year-old child called Frank in 1961 (actually Frank is currently a grown-up reflecting on this aspect of his lifestyle), Ordinary Poise is a coming-of-age novel, a loss from virtue over a summer months spent happening in person along with unspeakable actions. The aspect i am actually trying to travel through is actually that many individuals may style as well as claim that they as if meals and wont due to the fact that up, you do adhere to a diet and workout strategy and also get no where, yet i can ensure you half or even additional go over to the mirror, locate points they dislike regarding their amount, maintain to a diet regimen as well as physical exercise think about 1-3 weeks, see no results and also give up.

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gyromitra-esculenta · 7 years

Text

I got myself some right horror-action music and got into the mood. Fear!au with a bit of repetition for the context. I hate getting into character’s frame of mind because now i’m shivering. So, bit of horror, take your medication, the Beast is an arsehole.

“Only as real as you yourself are, Sunshine.” A part of it travels up and coils around his neck once, twice, and then slithers to his cheek in a mockery of tender gesture – almost akin to a hand cupping his face. “Which isn’t saying much these days, is it?” A whimper escapes his lips.

“No, I guess it isn’t,” Jack answers through clenched teeth, all his muscles locking momentarily. Each step feels like he drags behind a weight above his limit. “Fuck. The pills…”

“Yes, Sunshine, your medication that you threw away so frivolously. Or did you?” With the next step he hears a distinct rattle and panicked, he leans on the wall, fingers frantically reaching for the pocket in his pants as he digs out the white plastic bottle. Jack unscrews the lid and shakes it over his sweating palm. Nothing. It’s empty. “I hear the withdrawal’s a bitch, Sunshine,” the Beast laughs derisively. Jack throws the bottle away, it bounces off the floor once, twice, and then rolls into a corner.

“What the fuck are you?”

The black mass recedes and slowly slides back under his collar, but Jack can still feel its presence.

“The question you should ask, Sunshine, is,” the Beast murmurs into his ear, “are you even still alive in there, under all those layers of lies you call yourself?”

Claws slowly ghost over his cheek and Jack turns, trepidation stabbing his insides, to stare into red eyes set in a discolored face of a dead body, the tissue shifting with the indiscernible soft sound of something crawling – like a chitinous whisper of anthill swarming in the spring. His teeth are chattering and vision swims, capillaries bursting with each thundering beat of his heart.

“Remember your training,” the Beast chuckles from afar.

His hands are coated in blood, fingers hurt where they grip the handle of the knife. He stands before a body crumpled under the wall, almost mangled, face and throat torn up by something that reminds him of a wild rabid animal. He smells of smoke, soot, and ash.

And yet… and yet Jack knows it could not have been him because on the wall there is a bloody imprint where the body was thrown into it with enough strength to pulp it internally and force the blood out in showers where the flesh burst. Up, above, there are red tracks on the plaster, leading to the ceiling, into the space above the panels, and into vents.

His teeth are chattering and the blood on his hands refuses to crust mingled with his sweat. He lacks the frame of reference to account for the missing time.

Down the corridor, in the gloom, something scuttles and howls.

“Run,” the Beast orders and Jack obeys. The creature follows behind, the meaty thuds of its impending progress sounding obscene.

#sometimes I write #r76 #fear!AU #a bit of crawly imagery

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isaacblue-blog1 · 7 years

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Too late.

What if John Locke never thought? What if Ali or Bruce Lee never fought? What if Chef Marco Pierre White never used a pot What if Plato never did write what Socrates had taught What if the world never received the gift Steve Jobs What if Mandela decided not to go against all odds What if Lincoln never ran for president of the States What if Martin Luther King never walked against prejudice based on race What if Picasso didn't paint because he chose to stay in school What if Edison quit when his teachers told him he was a fool What if Dr. Seuss stopped when 27 publishers denied his book What if Bell's confidence fell when they didn't give the "telephone toy" a look What if Sigmund Frued stopped after being booed of stages What if Stephen King stop doing his thing when they rejected his pages What if Mozart ceased when they fired him as a musician What if Ford stopped when he was broke, and got back in that position You see, Jack London'debut got rejected 600 times And no one seem to like Emily Dickinson's rhymes Only one of Vincent Van Goghs paintings sold And Einstein learn to talk when he was four years old The Beatles were told that their sound lacked elaboration And Walt Disney was told he lacked imagination Bethovens teachers said he would never compose And no one liked the ideas Robert Goddard proposed You see, plainly there is never good timing when resigning When the hope is declining the moment's defining Your character's shining because you are not whining So keep finding the silver lining, though life is confining The stars are aligning, your time will come soon But you got to work at it no one is gonna feed you with a spoon If your a poet keep on rhyming, if your a mechanic, engines tune Cause with faith gigantic, fear will vanish whether time is opportune You will fly like helium in a ballon, kid let go too soon It floats in the air like pontoon, like titanic don't panic it's reaching the iceberg moon You will fly like a butterfly out its cocoon and spring ended, it is June And this butterfly won't die so don't try to hate, it's immune You fly as high as the sun is during noon And You will fly as fast as wind does during monsoon You will succeed, like your waiting to be king Towards the throne you proceed, yes indeed, joy it will bring From a peasant you will emerge and surge towards greatness Everybody will witness, you inspire the faithless You used to be a waitress, but now your restaurants are famous You used to be hated, but now you are famous And no it won't be painless, it will take much effort Remember no pain no gain, is cliche with reason, no error You see, the contender is clever, you better be more He hates what he spots, and you are a leopard, so roar He may be an orange flame, but that's lame compared to you Because everyone knows an orange flame isn't as hot as a blue And it's true, you can be as sharp of the point Of a mountain, of a razor, so don't disappoint When you walk forwards towards your goal think, head Let your words take over the world, let your ink spread Capillary Action, nothing can hold you from your passion As long as you don't slack and, as long as you ain't cracking It's never too late, take a chance to advance It may look hard but take a second glance Read, Write, Learn Watch, Absorb, Understand. And It might burn But you gotta withstand Aim to be the most deadly doctor of success Aim to be the best at what you do, that I suggest Shakespeare said it is not in the stars to hold our destiny, but in ourselves So it's time to take action and not hide in our shells We need our words to far go like wells We need to inspire the world, who cares if it fails Because What if Shakespeare never used paper? What if Mother Teresa never became a world shaper What if Oprah quit when they told her it was unfit to tape her What if John Lennon never became a dream chaser Don't ever quit It's never too late

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type2diabetestreatments-blog · 7 years

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Ask D'Mine: Coping with Fear, About Those Blood Drops...

New Post has been published on http://type2diabetestreatment.net/diabetes-mellitus/ask-dmine-coping-with-fear-about-those-blood-drops/

Ask D'Mine: Coping with Fear, About Those Blood Drops...

October is the month for fear and blood, no doubt. We're right on message in this week's edition of our diabetes advice column, Ask D'Mine, hosted by veteran type 1, diabetes author and community educator Wil Dubois.

Thanks to all for sending us your queries related to life with diabetes — nothing is off-limits here! (except of course specific medical instructions for your own care; that's what doctors are for)

Need help navigating life with diabetes? Email us at [email protected]

Gary from Oklahoma, type 1, writes: I'm newly diagnosed with type 1 diabetes, and I'm scared out of my wits. When does this feeling go away? What can I do to cope with the "fear factor?"

Wil@Ask D'Mine answers: What's scarier: Being in a crowded life boat in shark-filled waters watching the ship sink, or being on the sinking ship watching the over-filled life boat bobbing around in the shark filled waters?

Well, come to think of it, I guess they're both equally scary, but I think we can all agree that being in the lifeboat is the more enviable place to be, given the two options.

Gary, welcome to the lifeboat.

Type 1 diabetes can be scary. There's a lot to learn. A lot of things have changed. Your own mortality has just been brought into sharp focus. But the good news is you're not alone, and that's the best medicine for your fear. In fact, you've already taken your first dose! You found us. That means you've found the Diabetes Online Community, called the DOC. I personally find that name highly appropriate, even though it was accidental (some members call it the Dee-Oh-See, but I pronounce it 'the Doc,' as do many others).

The reason I find the name of our online world so appropriate is that the DOC is a doctor of sorts. Oh dear. Did you hear that sound? That's the folks at the AMA sharpening their pitch forks and lighting their torches again to deal with me once and for all. So let me quickly state that the DOC not a place for specific medical treatment advice.

But the DOC is a great prescription for fear, and a great antidote to the feeling of being all alone. When you poke around the diabetes corner of the internet you'll find blogs written by people like you. People who started out scared out of their wits. People who aren't scared anymore. You'll find communities where you can engage with others of your kind. Others who may be more scared, or less. You'll find news and information. And support. It's a community in all the best senses of the word.

Oh. Right. And you'll also find some complete BS, too, because anyone can say anything online. Caveat emptor. That's Latin for the oldest consumer advice in the world. It comes to us from the ancient Romans. It translates to buyer beware. So if someone wants to sell you a "proven cure" for diabetes, ya might want to ask your doctor first.

But to cure your fear, you've come to the right place.

Lynn from North Carolina, type 2, writes: I read that you should NEVER use the first drop of blood from your finger, but rather squeeze one drop, wipe it off, then use the SECOND drop, because the blood is from the vein and gives a more accurate reading. Is this correct? I hate the idea of having to squeeze out so much blood every time, especially when I'm trying to test more often.

Wil@Ask D'Mine answers: You should test the first drop if the British are coming by land, and the second drop if they are coming by sea.

But seriously, relax. You've been reading old material.

Give your poor little fingers a break. The first drop is fine. But the legacy of the old info is kinda interesting.

The first thing you need to know is that even with the biggest, deepest, nastiest lancing needle you can find, you won't be testing blood from a vein. Fingersticks tap into capillary beds. Capillaries are microscopic itsy, tiny bottom-of-the-totem-pole parts of the circulatory system.

The second thing you need to know is that before the dawn of the glucose meter there were other medical tests that used capillary blood from fingersticks, too.

The third thing you need to know is people used to worry that poking a bunch of holes in the skin could lead to infection. (This has been proven to be false.) Thus, for many years, we PWDs were advised to clean our fingers with an alcohol pad before testing.

OK, now to the distant, dark origins of the two-drop recommendation. Many of the capillary blood lab tests take a lot of blood. In fact, back in the day, when dinosaurs ruled the Earth, our blood glucose meters required a lot more blood than they do now. When you poke a hole in your skin, blood platelets start to aggregate, forming a platelet "plug." Yeah. The little Dutch boy with his finger in the dyke. It's the body's first step at making a blood clot. The problem here, of course, is you don't want the finger to stop bleeding before you can get enough blood for whatever test you are trying to run. Wiping away the first drop wipes away the initial platelet plug and lets the finger bleed longer. Of course modern blood glucose machines need only ridiculously small drops of blood, so this really isn't an issue anymore.

Similar other-lab-test-worries also carry a legacy to this day. The first drop of blood sometimes has more "tissue fluid" and/or higher potassium levels, either of which can effect some other tests, but have no relevance to the accuracy of a blood sugar test.

And remember that whole alcohol pad thing? Well, back when we were told to use them, folks would often rush to test before the finger was dry (or blow on the finger, defeating the alleged purpose of making the finger sanitary). With a wet finger, the first drop is half alcohol and half blood. The second drop was more likely pure blood.

Not surprisingly, using an alcohol pad is no longer recommended. It's not necessary and there're no documented cases of infections from finger lancing (clarification, never share your gear), and as noted, use of an alcohol pad can throw off the results from some meters.

So that's the myth's origin — the Garden of Eden story for the two-drop recommendation. A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away we needed more blood, we worried about the mix of body fluids in the first sample, and we worried about mixing the sanitizing alcohol with the blood sample. All false worries in our modern world. Just make sure you finger is clean and you're good to go. A quick wash with soap and water will remove the cake frosting from your fingertips.

Of course, you'll still meet some older and/or out of date medical pros who will tell you to do the double wipe thing. And at some hospitals and clinics they still do it because some of those other lab tests still need a ton of blood and it's easier to teach staff to do all lancing samples one way than to expect them to remember many different rules.

But for us at home, just drink the first drop.

And just for the hell of it, I whipped out my Presto meter just now, did a first-drop test, and got a 205 mg/dL. Then I wiped the drop away and squeezed out another drop. The second drop tested at 202 mg/dL. The two readings are well within the expected accuracy range of the meter.

Science in action. There's no statistical difference between the two readings.

What's my blood sugar doing in the 200s, you ask? Ummmmmmm..... I think I might have mentioned that I'm a better tour guide than a role model...

This is not a medical advice column. We are PWDs freely and openly sharing the wisdom of our collected experiences — our been-there-done-that knowledge from the trenches. But we are not MDs, RNs, NPs, PAs, CDEs, or partridges in pear trees. Bottom line: we are only a small part of your total prescription. You still need the professional advice, treatment, and care of a licensed medical professional.

Disclaimer: Content created by the Diabetes Mine team. For more details click here.

Disclaimer

This content is created for Diabetes Mine, a consumer health blog focused on the diabetes community. The content is not medically reviewed and doesn't adhere to Healthline's editorial guidelines. For more information about Healthline's partnership with Diabetes Mine, please click here.

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