#Stem Cell For Vision

[viezec]

Age-Related Macular Degeneration & Stem Cells: Science, Hope, and Future Treatments |

Stem Cell Therapy for AMD holds immense potential as it could potentially halt disease progression and even restore lost vision. Clinical trials have shown promising results, demonstrating improved visual function and structural recovery. However, challenges such as ensuring the safety, long-term effectiveness, and scalability of the therapy remain.

https://www.viezec.com/diseases/eyes/age-related-macular-degeneration/

[globalstemcellcare]

Retro Bulbar Injection of Stem Cell & Exosome for Retinitis Pigmentosa Canadian Patient |

https://www.globalstemcellcare.com/eye-disorder/stem-cell-treatment-for-retinitis-pigmentosa/

[medacess]

Reversing Vision Loss: Stem Cell Therapy for Macular Degeneration in India

Discover advanced stem cell therapy for macular degeneration in India. Restore vision with affordable, cutting-edge treatment trusted by patients worldwide.

[stemcellcareindia]

The Future of Eye Care: Stem Cell Therapy for Thailand Patients |

In Thailand, a country known for stunning Islands and quality of life, many individuals face the challenges of debilitating eye conditions. But now, there’s a solution that offers hope and healing—advanced stem cell therapy from Stem Cell Care India." At Stem Cell Care India, we specialize in treating a wide range of complex eye diseases using the latest advancements in stem cell therapy. Whether you’re dealing with:

Optic Nerve Atrophy (ONA)

Retinitis Pigmentosa Age-Related Macular Degeneration

Optic Neuropathy or Hypoplasia

Glaucoma Disease

Retinal Detachment

Septo Optic Dysplasia,

or other conditions, our innovative treatments are designed to restore vision and transform lives.

https://www.stemcellcareindia.com/diseases/stem-cell-treatment-for-eyes-in-india

[harmeet-saggi]

The Future Of Eye Health: Stem Cell Breakthroughs You Need To See

Imagine a world where devastating eye injuries no longer lead to permanent blindness. Thanks to remarkable advances in medical science, we stand on the cusp of such a transformative breakthrough. In this article, we'll delve deep into the exciting realm of stem cell therapy, exploring how it's revolutionizing the landscape of eye health. Get ready for a journey through the eyes of innovation!

Know more

[afeelgoodblog]

The Best News of Last Year - 2024 Edition

Welcome to our special edition newsletter recapping the best news from the past year. I've picked one highlight from each month to give you a snapshot of 2024. No frills, just straightforward news that mattered. Let's relive the good stuff that made our year shine.

1. January - South Korea passes law banning dog meat trade

The slaughter and sale of dogs for their meat is to become illegal in South Korea after MPs backed a new law. The legislation, set to come into force by 2027, aims to end the centuries-old practice of humans eating dog meat.

2. February - Greece legalises same-sex marriage

Greece has become the first Christian Orthodox-majority country to legalise same-sex marriage. Same-sex couples will now also be legally allowed to adopt children after Thursday's 176-76 vote in parliament. Prime Minister Kyriakos Mitsotakis said the new law would "boldly abolish a serious inequality".

3. March - Global child deaths reach historic low in 2022 – UN report

The number of children who died before their fifth birthday has reached a historic low, dropping to 4.9 million in 2022. The report reveals that more children are surviving today than ever before, with the global under-5 mortality rate declining by 51 per cent since 2000.

4. April - Restoring sight is possible now with optogenetics

Max Hodak's startup, Science, is developing gene therapy solutions to restore vision for individuals with macular degeneration and similar conditions. The Science Eye utilizes optogenetics, injecting opsins into the eye to enhance light sensitivity in retinal cells. Clinical trials and advancements in optogenetics are showing promising results, with the potential to significantly improve vision for those affected by retinal diseases.

5. May - Vaccine breakthrough means no more chasing strains

Scientists at UC Riverside have demonstrated a new, RNA-based vaccine strategy that is effective against any strain of a virus and can be used safely even by babies or the immunocompromised.

6. June - Bill Gates-backed startup creates Lego-like brick that can store air pollution for centuries

The Washington Post detailed a "deceptively simple" procedure by Graphyte to store a ton of CO2 for around $100 a ton, a number long considered a milestone for affordably removing carbon dioxide from the air. Direct air capture technologies used in the United States and Iceland cost $600 to $1,200 per ton, per the Post.

7. July - Stem cell therapy cures man with type 2 diabetes

A 59-year-old man had been suffering from diabetes for 25 years, needing more and more insulin every day to avoid slipping into a diabetic coma and was at risk of death. But then Chinese researchers cured his disease for the first time in the world. The patient received a cell transplant in 2021 and has not taken any medication since 2022.

8. August - Chinese drones will fly trash out of Everest slopes

Come autumn, Nepal will deploy heavy lifter drones to transport garbage from the 6,812-metre tall Ama Dablam, south of Everest. This will be the first commercial work an unmanned aerial vehicle does in Nepal’s high-altitude zone.

9. November - Tokyo to make day care free to boost birth rate

Tokyo plans to make day care free for all preschool children starting in September, the city governor has announced as part of efforts to boost Japan's low birth rate.

10. October - FTC Rule Banning Fake Product Reviews Takes Effect With Stiff Penalties

Federal Trade Commission (FTC) Chair Lina Khan announced on Oct. 21 that the agency’s prohibition on fake online reviews was taking effect, imposing fines as high as $50,000 for violations. Khan encouraged followers to report the proscribed practices at reportfraud.ftc.gov.

11. November - Bumblebee population increases 116 times over in 'remarkable' Scotland rewilding project

The bumblebee population has made an impressive comeback in a developed area by increasing to 116 times what it was two years ago thanks to a nature restoration group.

12. December - Spain to enshrine gay marriage and abortion rights into its constitution so 'they cannot be undone in the future'

The left-wing PSOE leader made the announcement at an event marking the 46th anniversary of the Spanish Magna Carta.

“We believe that these are rights that we must protect in the Constitution so that no one can touch them in the future,” Sanchez said in a statement in parliament on Friday.

----------

That's it for last year :)

This newsletter will always be free. If you liked this post you can support me with a small kofi donation here:

Buy me a coffee ❤️

Also don’t forget to share this post with your friends.

[calina-alda]

give me your post-viral wesker physical/bodily hcs please. what's he look like in there... do you have any pg67 function headcanons. the masses must know! (if you want to share, of course... i saw biology and i ran in here)

Okay so first of all congratulations, because with this question you accidentally triggered two of my fixations, resident evil lore and biology. So naturally I spent way too much time thinking about this at a molecular level, and emerged with a little manifesto on 'what the virus does to Wesker'.

Okay, lets get into it!

The virus inserts viral DNA directly into the host’s genome, permanently altering Wesker's genetic code. It targets specific stem cell populations to overwrite genetic instructions. These new genes code for synthetic proteins that give his body enhanced abilities. The virus functions similarly to an engineered gene therapy vector, but instead of fixing a mutation, it adds entirely new capabilities:

Healing Factor

• Wesker’s body heals stupidly fast. Bullet wounds seal up in real time. It’s not just fast, it’s efficient. No scar, no bruise, just gone. That’s because of proteins, that promote extreme tissue regeneration by accelerating transcription of growth factors.

• The viral DNA triggers production of proteins that upregulate mitochondrial efficiency. So his cells are constantly in overdrive, replicating and regenerating at insane speeds. That kind of process would literally melt a normal person from the inside out, but the virus keeps him juuuuust stable enough to survive it.

• That means he burns through nutrients and energy at an insane rate. But he still eats very little because his body has learned to metabolize efficiently.

• Because of this, he doesn’t get sick. Like, ever. No flu, no fever, nothing. His immune system probably nukes bacteria before they finish replicating.

Strength

• A key viral protein might mimic myostatin inhibitors, increasing muscle mass without bulk, think insane strength in a lean frame.

• He could punch a hole in reinforced steel if he wanted to, but the scary part is that he doesn’t. He holds back all the time. He can crack a man’s ribs with one hand, or gently zip up your jacket without pulling the tab off.

• His control is off the charts. He’s not just strong, he’s precise. Every movement is calculated.

Eyesight & Senses

• He sees more than most people. Infrared, low light, motion trails, his vision is layered. The world probably looks like a high-contrast heatmap half the time.

• That’s why he wears sunglasses 24/7. Not just for the aesthetic (though let’s be real, it’s working), but to help with light sensitivity. Without them, he’d probably get visual overload in a well-lit room. (Okay, Gojo Satoru)

• His hearing is sharp too. Not supernatural, but he can pick up your heartbeat if you're close enough. It makes sneaking up on him borderline impossible.

The PG67A/W Serum

• The serum is a lifeline. The virus is unstable on its own, the host cells try to over-replicate or misfire signals, leading to cellular death or mutation.

• PG67A/W likely acts as a suppressor or regulator, binding to specific viral receptors or feedback loops, controlling gene expression and inhibitory enzyme systems to keep certain proteins from overexpressing.

• He doses every 6 to 8 hours. He keeps spares on him at all times. If he’s on a mission, he builds his entire schedule around those injections.

• He hides injection sites on his inner thigh, shoulder, or hip, places easy to reach but not visible.

Body Temperature

• His body runs hot. Like, unnaturally warm to the touch, like 39°C on a normal day. You could probably use him as a space heater.

• He doesn’t sweat much, but if he’s pushing his limits, the heat builds up fast. He’ll disappear for a cold shower or just stand in front of an AC vent for five minutes without saying anything.

• Resting heart rate? Low. Like athlete-low, sometimes around 40 bpm. But if he moves into combat mode, it spikes instantly. Controlled tachycardia, probably tied to the virus.

Time Perception & Reflexes

• The virus likely alters neurotransmitter uptake and synaptic plasticity, enhancing reaction time and cognition. It increases dopamine and norepinephrine sensitivity, creating hyper-alertness without overstimulation.

• Neural conduction speed may be boosted by: enhanced myelination of neurons. Modified ion channels that allow faster action potential firing.

• The result? Time feels slower to him. His brain processes information so fast that everything else seems like it’s moving in slow motion. That’s why he reacts before you even finish blinking.

• But it’s also exhausting in a subtle way. Conversations feel slow. Meetings drag. He lives in a world that’s slightly out of sync.

Mutation Risk

• He’s constantly on the edge. The virus wants to take over, it wants him to evolve into something monstrous. He keeps that in check with raw willpower and serum, but it’s always there.

• He has nightmares about it. Not dying, mutating. Losing himself.

Aging

• The virus triggers production of novel proteins that tabilize telomeres.

• His aging basically stopped. He should be pushing 50, but he still looks like he’s in his late 30s at most.

Touch & Intimacy

• His body doesn’t regulate hormones quite the same anymore. He can feel arousal, desire, etc., but it’s slower to build and hits harder when it does.

• And his stamina...He doesn’t get tired, doesn’t lose focus, and has total control over his body. He can go for hours without so much as breaking a sweat, and he’s frustratingly composed the whole time

Pain Response

• The virus likely alters his nervous system, especially the nociceptors.

• Instead of fully shutting off pain, it modulates the intensity, filtering it through a “useful or not” lens.

• So he still feels pain, but it’s dulled. A knife wound feels like pressure. A gunshot is just an annoyance.

• He can weaponize it too. Take a hit, stay standing, stare you down without even flinching, smile on his face, it’s terrifying. And he knows it.

Anyway. That’s the gist of what I think is going on inside Wesker’s terrifyingly efficient, (incredibly attractive) body. Please note:

• I did have microbiology, but I’m studying environmental science.

• I am not a virologist or Umbrella scientist (tragic, I know), just someone who thinks too hard about fictional men with god complexes.

• Also, I had to use a translator for like 40% of the fancy terms because my English science vocab just noped out halfway through. So if something sounds too text book, blame the language barrier

Thank you for enabling me, lol

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

When We Begin Again

Warnings:this fic will include dark content such as blood and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You find the man of the dreams, but your life slowly distorts into a nightmare. 

Characters: Steve Rogers

Note: And so we come to the end of Halloweek 2024. Thanks for those who read.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me❤️

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You hear the murmur from across the office but don’t look up. You're too enraptured by the cells of the spreadsheet, trying to figure out what won’t balance. There’s something missing. Something obvious and you just can’t see it. 

Your eyes narrow, nearly turning inward to your nose, and your name yanks you out of your Excel-induced trance. You sit up sharply, nearly sending yourself and your rolling chair to the ground. You grasp the arm rests and snap the seat straight on the axle. 

“My, my, looks like someone special’s thinking of you,” Louise plunks down the crystal vase of flowers on your desk, nearly demolishing your mouse at the same time. “Roses. Red? Three dozen, looks like.” 

The office clears and you glance around slowly as the fog dissipates. You have an audience. You’re not used to being the center of attention. Not until recently. 

You know who the flowers are from but it’s still a surprise. A pleasant one, yet a bit awkward. You take the card from the long plastic stem and read the message inside. It’s signed S. Rogers. 

“So, you’ve got a new man?” Louise prompts, still hovering by your desk. 

“Ooh, do tell,” Sella rolls over in her chair. 

“Please, we’re just getting to know each other,” you put the card in your pocket. 

“Just getting to know each other,” Sella guffaws as several other women turn to eavesdrop. “Seems like he wants to know a lot about you.” 

“Really. We only had one date.” 

“One date?” Louise exclaims. “Well, you must’ve put out if he’s sending roses.” 

“Lou,” Sella warns. 

Louise gives a naughty look, “pardon. I’ll file the HR report myself.” She cackles and a few others join in. You’re burning hot in embarrassment. 

“It’s new. I don’t want to get my hopes up,” you stand and grab the vase. “These are too big and pretty for my desk. I’ll put them in the break room.” 

“Is he handsome?” Louise goads. 

“Oh, I hope he is,” Sella chirps. “To be young and fun again, ah.” 

You carry the vase away, an odd clink against the glass with your steps. You keep your head down, overly aware of the eyes watching you. You enter the shared kitchen and put the flowers on one of the empty tables. Something dangles against the back of your hand. 

You turn your palm to catch the small locket before it can slide free. You don’t know how you didn’t notice before. A rose is engraved into the gold and the chain is a length of delicate links. You can tell it’s genuine gold. Oh my. 

You quickly wrap it up and slip it into your pocket with the card. You hurry back to your desk and sit. You try to focus on the spreadsheet but your vision is blurry with self-consciousness. A soft buzz draws you from your deconstruction. 

You swipe up your phone. It’s Steve. You can’t leave him hanging. Not after all that. 

You get up, keeping your cell up your sleeve as you march into the hall and to the restroom. You lock yourself in and answer. 

“Hello?” Your voice is wispy. 

“Hey, honey, did you get it?” Steve asks. 

Honey? He’s too good to be true. One date and it’s like it’s been one year. 

“The flowers, yeah.” 

“What about the necklace?” He asks. 

“Oh, yes, that too. Um, all the other ladies at the office love the roses.” 

“But what about you?” 

“Yeah, they’re pretty,” you assure him. 

“Are you wearing the necklace?” He asks. 

“I hadn’t had a chance--” 

“Put it on,” he says abruptly then clears his throat. “I mean, you should wear it. Send me a picture.” 

“Right, yeah. Totally. Sorry. I just started work and... oh Steve what a lovely surprise that was,” you chime. “I’m kinda in shock. It’s so sweet of you.” 

“You’re easy to be sweet to,” he purrs. “Did you have a good night?” 

“I did. Dinner was great.” 

“And... after?” 

Your cheeks are blazing. Your lips press together as you think of the kiss. So soft and tender. 

“I liked it,” you babble. 

He chuckles, “me too. So, we’ll have to set a date for the second.” 

“Of course.” You agree as you cradle your hot cheek. 

“I don’t want to keep you from your work, as much as I do want to,” he says. “Oh, don’t forget the necklace.” 

“Yeah, I’ll put it on now,” you promise. “I should go.” 

“Alright,” he says reluctantly. “See ya, honey.” 

You hang up and put the phone on the edge of the sink. You fish the necklace out of your pocket and untangle the chain. You admire the little rose before you stretch it around your neck and clasp it into place. It hangs perfectly around your throat, right at the hollow of your collar bone. 

You marvel at it, stroking the edges, and feel a tingle on your chest. It’s beautiful. 

“Isn’t it gorgeous?” A lilted voice drifts through your ears. 

You flinch, startled. You look around the empty bathroom. You frown. Who was that? 

You check your phone. It’s locked. Then you go to each stall and peer inside. No one. 

It... must’ve been in your head. Yet it was so clear. Like someone was speaking right next to you. Even as if the voice were inside your mind. Well, that’s it, isn’t it? You’re imagining things. 

You turn back to the mirror and raise your phone as you open up the camera. You should send that picture before you forget. You snap the shot and check it. 

Oh. Doubt needles at you once more. Just like yesterday before your date. That disbelief you can’t shake. Steve is too good for you. You’re the mousy woman who can’t help but trip over her own toes and rambles about old BBC period pieces. He’s tall and blond and handsome. 

Yet he likes you. He has to. He would give you such pretty things if he didn’t. 

🥀

“One month already,” Steve sweeps in with a glass in each hand. 

“Oh gosh, that’s not--” 

“Champagne,” he declares. 

“Really?” You squeal. 

“Nothing’s too special for you, honey,” he nears and hands you a glass. You take it and keep it over the edge of the couch, afraid to spill even a drop on his pristine white cushions. “I just love to spoil you.” 

“You do,” you agree. “It makes me feel a little... lacking. I wish I could give you more.” 

“You’re more than enough,” he assures you as he sits down next to you. “Cheers.” 

“Cheers,” you echo and clink his glass. 

You tip the glass to your lips and a weight shifts in the crystal. You hum in surprise and trickle a drop over the corner of your mouth. You dap it away as you examine the golden champagne. Tiny bubbles flow up from around the band sunk to the bottom. You gasp. 

“Steve,” you nearly choke on the dregs. “What--” 

He slides off the couch and sets his glass on the table. You shake your head. He’s not... 

“Honey,” he takes your other hand as he kneels. You’re overly aware of the moisture left on your fingers. Of course, you’re that ungraceful. “I know it’s early but I don’t want to wait. I just feel... this is everything. I want you forever.” 

“Huh?” The noise makes you cringe. You sound so dumb. 

“Please, will you make me the luckiest man in the world--” 

“You can’t...” you gulp. 

“Marry me. Please.” 

You stare at him. Stunned. Your hand shakes. You reach to put the glass down and fan yourself. It can’t be real. So soon? 

“I’ll beg,” he squeezes your hand. “Honey, please.” 

“Steve,” you eke again. “I... I’m just so... surprised.” 

“I love you,” he says. “I love you so much, you’re all I think about.” 

“I...” you look at the glass and the ring at the bottom. “Yes, Steve. Oh my god. Yes.” 

He smiles triumphantly and grabs the champagne. He drains it and reveals the ring between his teeth. He takes it and dries it on his shirt. You lift your hand, trembling and let him slide it on. 

“Oh, yes, a lovely ring, indeed. His mother’s, you know? Cushion cut and look at the trim...” You recoil and scratch your ears. It’s that voice again. 

It can’t be Steve. His lips haven’t moved and it isn’t a male voice. It’s a woman. Her tone is rich and sultry and she has an accent. It doesn’t sound like anyone you know. 

“Honey?” Steve blinks at you with concern. 

“I... I’m sorry, I just... can I use the bathroom?” 

“Uh, yeah,” he looks disappointed. “Sure.” 

“Sorry, I don’t mean to ruin the moment, I just have a tickle,” you pat his hand gently and let him go. 

You stand and hurry away. 

“He asked me on London Bridge. At midnight. Wonderful. Back home, lovely weather,” the woman speaks again, booming in your brain. 

You swallow a yelp before you hide behind the bathroom door. You shake your head and cup your ears, but that only makes her louder. 

“Then we went to Paris. Oh, it was splendid.” She sighs dreamily. 

You look in the mirror. You appear maddened as your eyes are round and your mouth is twisted in dismay. You lean in as you notice the glint in your iris. There are flecks you’ve never seen there before. A subtle pigmentation. You blink. Is there something in your eyes? 

It’s unmoving. That slender grey speck. You bat your lashes again. They’re longer too. 

You grip the sink as you lean into the mirror. 

“He always liked it when I wore red lipstick.” She preens in your ears and you whine. You push yourself back and look down at your hands. You step back and raise them to examine your fingers. They look more tapered than before. Not so stubby and thick. 

You shake them out and take a breath. There’s something wrong. Something strange. With you. 

Yet, what can you do about it now? You can’t run out on Steve after such a nice night. And a proposal. You’ll wait until the morning and you’ll call the doctor. 

You shrink and lean against the wall. It’s just your luck. You meet the man of your dreams, get engaged, and now your mind is fraying. You’re terrified. 

“Please,” you whisper, “be quiet.” 

You wait. There’s no answer. You must sound as deranged as you feel. You’re talking to yourself. There’s no one else there. 

“Honey,” Steve taps on the door gently, startling you, “everything okay?” 

“Um, yeah,” you croak out. “Yes, I’m good.” You unlock the door and make yourself smile. “I was just admiring the ring.” 

“Nice, huh?” He takes your hand. “It was my mother’s. If you need it fitted, we can go tomorrow.” 

“Tomorrow?” You wonder. “Mm, well, I have to see the doctor.” 

“Oh,” his brows draw together, “maybe after then.” 

🥀

“I can’t offer you answers today,” Dr. Lichten drones. “I can refer you to someone who can. It could be a temporary episode. Or something more... chronic. The best place to start is with someone who can determine which.” 

You nod solemnly. His expression remained unmoved as you explained the voice in your head, almost as if he didn’t believe you. You didn’t bother to mention the changes you could see. You fear doing so might land you in a room with soft walls. 

You take the referral form and leave. Your phone is buzzing. It’s Steve. You love how attentive he can be but at the same time, you feel suffocated. You just need space to figure out what’s going on. 

“Quite simple, dear. You’re not me.” The voice taunts. You stop short in the hallway, nearly bowling over a nurse. You apologise and keep going. 

You continue out of the clinic and idle in your car as you call the psychiatric office. You have an appointment set. You’ll be okay until then. 

“He could never be happy with someone like you. Look at you, honey. You are a mess.” 

“Shut up,” you growl as you shift into drive. 

The voice is saying all the things you’ve said to yourself before but this time, it’s not the same murmuring doubt. It’s bold and brazen and cruel. And that accent. 

Your eyes flick to the ring shining on your finger. You nearly forgot it that morning until Steve reminded you. It’s so beautiful. 

“And you’re not,” the voice mocks. 

You sigh and close your eyes. You’re not doing this. You’re not arguing with whatever this is. 

You drive back to your own place. You’ll sleep and hope it goes away. You haven’t been doing much of that since Steve came around. He fills your evenings and the mornings comes too quick. Can you really keep up with him? 

“You cannot,” she snickers and you smack your ear as you push through your apartment door. You groan and try to rub away the stinging pain. 

You lay down but don’t get much sleep. Even as the voice recedes into silence, you’re unsettled as you wait for it to pipe up at any moment. When you surrender to your consciousness, you run a bath and ease into it. 

You close your eyes once more and linger in the steaming water. As it cools, you open your eyes. You look down at yourself. Surely it must be the water distorting your body. Where did that freckle come from? Is your skin a different shade? 

Strange things. You wish they’d stop. 

Steve calls as you wrap yourself in your robe, as if he knows. You answer. 

“Hey, whatcha up to?” He asks. 

“Nothing. Just... chilling out.” 

“You back at your place? I can swing by with lunch,” he offers. 

“Oh, Steve...” 

“I might already be here...” he chuckles. 

That’s his way. He doesn’t leave room for no but it’s never a bad thing. You sigh. 

“Alright, come on up.” 

🥀

“We can do some evaluations for schizophrenia but you have no genetic markers for it. No family history. Dissociative Personality might be something too,” Dr. Percy explains, “even a degree of body dysmorphia. Unfortunately, your systems are inconsistent with anything in the DSM-5.” 

You nod. 

“So that means?” 

“We have work to do,” she says. “But we can figure this out. Patience.” 

“Patience,” you frown. You don’t know how much longer you can handle this. 

“I’m patient,” the voice sneers and you wince.  

Percy inclines her head curiously, “you hear it now?” 

You give a quiet, “yes.” 

“And?” 

You squeeze your eyes shut as your head rattles, “she’s laughing!” 

You wrap your arms around your head and fold over. Percy rushes over. She puts her hand on your shoulder. The voice goes silent. You whimper. 

“What is it?” She asks. 

“Nothing,” you utter. “It’s gone.” 

She clicks her tongue. “You need sleep. I can prescribe sedatives. I want you to be careful, alright? You only need one at night. Just so you can rest.” 

“Thank you,” you sniffle as you sit up. “I just want to be better.” 

“I know. We will find stability,” she stands and takes her pad from her desk. “Come back on Friday.” 

“Okay,” you rise grimly. 

Outside the office, you sit in your car and cry. You feel yourself splintering apart. The seams are unraveling in your mind, the voice getting louder and louder as yours fades away. 

“Look at us,” she trills. “Dear, please, have a look. You can be so foolish. Come, the mirror.” 

You lift your head and grab onto the rear view. You tilt it down and grimace. Red lipstick. You don’t even own a stick, you didn’t put that on... huh? 

“Just a bit of touch up in the ladies’,” she drawls. “Better, don’t you think?” 

“Why-- what are you? Why are you doing this?” 

“Those are my favourite pearls,” she ignores your desperate plea. You touch the earrings Steve gave you. “They made it through the Blitz, you know?” 

“No, you’re not real. Not. Real!” You shriek and beat your temples, “get out. Get out! GET OUT!” 

Your nails scratch your scalp and you recoil. Oh, heavens. Your nails. Oval, pedicured, pretty. No, those aren’t yours. You turn your arms over. Another freckle that doesn’t belong. 

You lean back again and look in the mirror. Your eyes are a shade of blue you don’t recognise. Your face is longer too, cheekbones more defined. That’s not you. You’re hallucinating. 

“You’re right, it isn’t you,” she chimes and laughs again. 

You bend over the steering wheel and scream. You need it to stop! Stop! Stop! 

🥀

You take another pill. The third one that day. She’s still there. You’re barely. 

You should be happier than ever. You’re engaged. Your wedding is almost there. You’re miserable. You want it to end. 

“Honey,” Steve calls through the door. 

“I said leave me alone,” you snivel and pull the blanket over you. “Please, leave me alone.” 

“Are you okay? You’ve been in there all day.” 

“I just want to be left alone!” You snarl. 

“You want to be left alone, dear, you can go,” the voice sneers. “Go on, then.” 

“No,” you mutter. 

“I’m not leaving so...” she insists. 

“No, no, you won’t win!” You holler. 

“Honey?” Steve turns the handle and you keep the blanket around you. 

“Go.” You tell both of them. 

“Please, don’t do this. I know there’s a lot going on but we can face it together.” 

“No, Steve, we can’t... I... I’m not good enough for you. I’m... I’m... I’m going crazy,” you whine. 

“Crazy? Honey, no. You’re fine. The doctor said--” 

“I lied. She doesn’t know what’s wrong,” you groan. “So leave me alone. I deserve to be alone.” 

“Dear, you can end this. You just have to go.” The voice chirps.

“No!” You snap at the lilting jeer. “No, I will not let you...” 

Your head swirls as the drugs seep into your blood flow. 

“Isn’t that nice, hm? The darkness?” She asks. 

“Mmmm,” you grumble and go limp. 

“Honey,” Steve rubs your arm through the blanket, “you tired?” 

You garble. The pills smother you as the edges of your mind haze. Your body is heavy and warm. You cling to the relief. You just can’t be you for a little. You just want to sleep. 

“That’s it, darling,” she goads, “close your eyes. Relax.” 

You drift down into the depths, swirling slowly through ribbons of silk. They wrap around you and cover your face, drawing tight until they suffocate you. Until they silence you. You whimper as the fabric draws tight around your throat and you flail through the void. 

You spin and open your eyes. A swath of light sears into your eyes. You see Steve, distant, far away. He leans in and cradles your face but you can’t feel his hand. His thumb strokes your cheek. 

“Margaret?” He says breathily, “Peggy,” he brings his other hand up as your vision narrows, “I’ve been waiting.” 

That voice hums as the light turns to a slit, “so have I,” she slithers and the darkness glazes over, dragging you down into the abyss.  

You are bound in a shroud within yourself. You cannot speak, you cannot move. You have no mouth, no body to do so. You have nothing. You are nothing. 

[divine-misfortune]

Number 2 with Phantom and Swiss mayhaps????

Read on ao3

His body has long since sagged into the thoroughly abused hotel mattress. Limbs shaking and spent, Swiss couldn’t hope to hold himself up. They couldn’t support him, let alone the added weight of Phantom folded over his back. His arms had buckled on their own but Phantom had selfishly pushed him off of his elbows. Shoved his face into the starchy sheets in favor of hiking his hips up even higher, seeking out a better, far more self serving angle to abuse. 

Every snap of his hips was frantic, growing sloppier with each semi uncoordinated thrust. Driving him further and further into sheer mindlessness each time his heavy balls slapped against his little dick, somehow still so full despite painting the inner walls of his pussy multiple times. 

He was finally starting to unravel. Three loads shot into the burning clutch of his body before he’d even started showing signs of slowing. Two more than Swiss had been prepared for - he was far from a young ghoul, and he often forgot that fact until he found himself in situations like these, bedded down and outpaced by a fresh summon. Phantom had spent hours bruising his fingers into his waist and the head of his cock into the deepest part of him, carving a place into his cunt that only he’d be able to fill, and was still far from satisfied. 

Bones gone to jelly, blood gone to syrup, Phantom had taken the poor multi ghoul for all he was worth and then some. Taking more than Swiss could have offered. The tears had started at some point, and Phantom zeroed in on them. A shark drawn to the blood in the water, and somewhere in the small functioning part of his brain Swiss noted to stop letting him spend so much time with Rain. He heard Phantom’s breath catch when they pooled in the corners of his eyes, his whimpered sob deserving of a groan stemming from deep in his belly. 

Phantom’s nails kneaded into the soft pudge of his hips as he pulled them back to meet his thrusts, the obscene squelch of him bottoming out almost lost beneath dog-like panting. Even if Swiss could scrape together the brain cells to tell him to slow down it would fall of deaf ears, lost to the throes of passion and deafened by whatever blood remained in his head absolutely roaring. 

“Still fucking tight,” he gasped, nosing into the sweat dampened hair at the nape of his neck. “Cunt is still just milking me.” Phantom nipped at his ear and Swiss let out a warbled sound. 

The claws leaving his skin honestly hurt more than they did piercing the skin. There would be dark half moons to remind him for days to come. A clumsy hand reached underneath him to rub wildly at his swollen over sensitive clit, spreading the filth dripping from his abused hole over his lips - creating an entirely new mess that would dry uncomfortably in the overgrown bed of curls. The multi ghoul jolted beneath him, almost trying to squirm away from the sudden onslaught of sensation. 

“Fuh-ck.” Swiss slurred, drooling helplessly onto the sheets. His face had gone almost entirely slack aside from the pinch of his brow, the coiling pleasure in his gut tightening to a painful degree. Wound well past its limits and twisting deeper each time his walls involuntarily clenched around Phantom’s cock, body hurtling towards another orgasm he didn't think he could spare. “Shit, shit! ‘antom-!”

Phantom half laughed half growled. Dissolving into frantic rabbit humps, the head of his cock nestled somewhere that put stars in Swiss’ already bleary vision. 

“Yeah? Gonna cum for me? Course you are.” His tongue darted out, a thick stripe licked up the side of his neck. Clove and salt tinging his sweat, Phantom wanted to lap up the raw taste of him. “Give me what I’ve earned, baby.”

Instead of blindly rubbing at his tdick, he took it between his fingers and began to stroke. Jerking him off in earnest, albeit selfishly. Swiss knew he wasn’t going to last, Phantom knew he wasn’t going to last, and he certainly didn't. A few sharp tugs had his body spasming, twitching and bucking as Phantom continued to work him through it to drag out the velvety vise bearing down on him. 

Whatever strength Swiss had left was instantly sapped, his wounded whines and moans lilting towards absolute devastation as Phantom refused to relent. 

“Yeah, yeah, just like that,” the little ghoul panted. He reeled back simply to slam home one more time, nails scraping down his hip as he scrambled to keep a hold on the overstimulated body fighting to go limp and retreat from him. 

Swiss typically adored the sound of Phantom spilling. The way his moans turned reedy and feminine as he lost control of himself, he was always so eager to wring them from his delicate little body till the lines of pleasure blurred and his cries became agonized. He came with a cry that betrayed his prior cocky behavior, shuddering and jolting as his balls pulsed, trying to empty entirely.

He struggled to even blink, eyelids heavy as Phantom slowly pulled out of him. They hissed in unison, another almost agonizing aftershock crashing over him. Empty for the first time in hours, he’d almost forgotten what it was like not to be wrapped around Phantom’s dick.

Behind him, the little ghoul slipped from the edge of the bed and his knees hit the carpet hard. Swiss made a vague sound of concern and tried to lift his head to cast a glance at him but gave up on the idea before his face could leave the mattress. Phantom grabbing and spreading his cheeks stopped him in his tracks, using his thumbs to part his lips to properly inspect his spend being pushed from his pretty, puffy cunt. 

“Arch your back,” Phantom breathed. “Left you fucking gaping…Couldn’t keep my cum in if you tried.” He chuckled, sighing too close to his twitching sex. It made him rightfully tense, knowing even in his fuzzy brain what was coming. 

His forked and unglamored tongue darted out, teasing against his rim before whispering “Not gonna let you waste it…” Swiss couldn’t even muster up the energy to wail. All he managed was a small, strangled sound that died in his throat as Phantom pushed it into him. 

[fluffy-dixon]

Title: Rose🌹

Summary: Reader Suffers from anxiety and struggles with a bad attack. Daryl comforts them.

Pairings: Daryl x Reader

Era: Prison

Word count: Approx 940 I wrote this on my iPad.

Warnings: extreme anxiety attack? It’s supposed to be fluff but apparently it’s also angst.

This was my first ever one shot which I have re-written – I wrote this for Valentines Day.

--

You awoke to a crushing weight on your chest, panic surging as you struggled for breath. Another episode was upon you.

The cell’s darkness was absolute, save for a sliver of light that outlined the door’s draped sheet. It was just enough to search for your blankets—the ones Daryl had gathered for you, knowing they eased your distress. Though not essential, he’d always find a way to bring one back, hiding it for you to discover later.

Desperately, you searched the cot’s emptiness for any sign of the comforting fabric.

But there was nothing, and time was slipping away.

Tears streamed down your face, each one scalding like molten rock. Your throat constricted, a vice tightening and choking off your breath. You screamed silently within.

Air. You needed air.

Swinging your legs out, you hauled yourself into a sitting position, hands bracing on your knees. You adopted the tripod stance Daryl had shown you—tripoding. Gasping, you tried to steady your breathing, passing out was not an option.

Inhale through your nose, count to four, exhale. Again, inhale, count to three but relief eluded you; none of the learned techniques were working.

You needed air.

The tingling in your hands spread, a fiery sensation engulfing your arms, neck, and face.

Reaching for the oil lamp you kept for emergencies, you overextended, expelling the last of your breath as the lamp crashed to the floor, shattering.

The noise was sure to draw attention, giving the council yet another reason to cast you out. You were already a burden; this was the last thing you needed.

Defeated, you collapsed back onto the bed, the cell spinning around you. Your body convulsed, each tremor a jolt of electricity coursing through you.

Then, his voice.

“Y/N? Y��kay in there?!”

The Archer. Your archer. Best friend. Soul mate.

Sweat drenched you, blurring your vision, but his silhouette was unmistakable against the door’s curtain.

A groan of panic escaped you, but it was enough. In an instant, Daryl was there, his arms enveloping you in a protective embrace.

“C’mere, it’s okay,” he murmured, his voice a deep, gravelly comfort. You clung to the resonance of his words, a cry of relief breaking free as you felt the tension begin to dissipate.

“The blankets n’working?” You shook your head vigorously, pressing it into the crook of his neck, seeking refuge in his sturdy embrace. The scent of smoke and musk from his skin enveloped you, a comforting aroma you’ve always cherished.

“I can’t—find—” Your words faltered, but he hushed you gently. The dizzying whirl of the room gave way to a soothing rocking motion, cradling you towards calmness.

“Breathe w’me. You can do this, just as I taught ya.”

Inhale through your nose, count to four, then exhale.

A sob escaped your lips, your throat raw and aching with each laboured breath. Daryl’s rough yet tender hands glided over your arms, across your shoulders, and into your damp, dishevelled hair. His touch was a mirror to your disarray. As you looked up, Daryl brushed away the stray hairs from your face, tucking them behind your ears with a gentle precision, his gaze never leaving yours. His deep blue eyes held you captive, mesmerizing you, while the dim light cast shadows that accentuated the contours of his face.

More sobs wracked your body, and you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to stem the flow of tears. The imaginary shackles around your chest seemed to dissolve, allowing you to breathe freely once more. His method was effective.

“You’re doin’it, girl, I’m proud of ya,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your clammy forehead, undeterred by the dampness. The kiss lingered, grounding you back to the present. When he pulled away, the absence of his warmth left your skin exposed to the chilly air, sealing the moisture from his lips onto your skin. This was a first—a tender, romantic gesture from him. The blush that crept over his cheeks and ears was mirrored by your own shaky, yet genuine smile. You yearned to voice your gratitude to the archer, but all you could manage was to nestle your head against his chest once more, closing your eyes and syncing your breaths with his. Your hand rested on his side, anchoring you as the room’s spin subsided.

Daryl’s free hand began to trace letters on your back. Instead of pain, the path of his fingertip left a trail of goosebumps, pulling you back to reality.

H-A-P-P-Y V-A-L-E-N-T-I-N-E-S.

He released one arm from around your waist and reached into his shirt pocket, pausing as he spoke.

“I carved something for you.” Daryl’s words were always sparse but laden with meaning. You were the only one privy to this side of him, a treasure you held dear. Each rare glimpse of his vulnerability was cherished, knowing the bravery it took for him to reveal himself.

Sitting up a bit more, you watched as Daryl retrieved a small object from his pocket, placing it in his palm and shifting it into the light for you to see. A gasp slipped through your lips, and you covered your mouth, a silent tear tracing your cheek at the sight of his gift.

An oak rose head, intricately carved.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” he said softly.

[viezec]

Understanding Age-Related Macular Degeneration Symptoms and How Stem Cell Therapy Can Help |

[globalstemcellcare]

Retinopathy Recovery: The Power of Stem Cell Therapy | Retinopathy |

https://www.globalstemcellcare.com/eye-disorder/stem-cell-treatment-for-retinopathy

[wumblr]

hey have you guys heard about bodyoids

Although it may seem like science fiction, recent technological progress has pushed this concept into the realm of plausibility. Pluripotent stem cells, one of the earliest cell types to form during development, can give rise to every type of cell in the adult body. Recently, researchers have used these stem cells to create structures that seem to mimic the early development of actual human embryos. At the same time, artificial uterus technology is rapidly advancing, and other pathways may be opening to allow for the development of fetuses outside of the body.  Such technologies, together with established genetic techniques to inhibit brain development, make it possible to envision the creation of “bodyoids”—a potentially unlimited source of human bodies, developed entirely outside of a human body from stem cells, that lack sentience or the ability to feel pain. There are still many technical roadblocks to achieving this vision, but we have reason to expect that bodyoids could radically transform biomedical research by addressing critical limitations in the current models of research, drug development, and medicine. Among many other benefits, they would offer an almost unlimited source of organs, tissues, and cells for use in transplantation.

[stemcellcareindia]

Eye Disease Treatment by Stem Cell For Patients From Indonesia |

https://www.stemcellcareindia.com/diseases/stem-cell-treatment-for-eyes-in-india

[charliehoennam]

beyond the badge pt.4

pairing: david loki x f!reader

summary: his fiancée is abducted and a distraught david realizes some rules must be broken in order to save the one he loves.

warnings: 18+, dark themes such as kidnapping, language, violence, eventual smut, suicide, death, physical injuries, threats, blood and abuse of law enforcement

SHARING IS CARING, SO REBLOG IF YOU LIKE IT

one | two | three | five

The cold autumn air has his teeth chattering as night falls.

David grabs the black jacket from the back seat. After sliding it on, his hand fishes into his pocket for his black winter hat. He holds in his hand, analyzing the accessory remembering how he had picked up that habit.

You would always leave it tucked into the pocket before leaving for work because he can be forgetful when it comes to taking care of himself.

Staring at the endless sea of cedar that stem from the banks of echoing, rushing river, he thinks back to every little you used to do for him and he wonders how much of it he took for granted. He closes his heavy eyes as he reminisces.

The rush of the waters resounding through the cold air lull him, persuading him to give in. His body aches with exhaustion as it settles in his bones.The unmarked car he's nestled in warms gradually with every steady breath.

He doesn't notice he's nodded off until he jolts awake to the sound of birds cawing in the sky, pestered by what he assumes to be some commotion.

His heavy head lifts as he searches the terrain around. His sight takes a moment to adjust the jet black outside. Although it's hard to see, it doesn't seem like there's anything out of place.

Just as the small surge of adrenaline settles, his cell phone buzzes and lights up penetrating the darkness as he squints incoming texts. They're from O'Malley reaffirming everyone's in position for the ambush. The second confirms the arrival of the suspects.

A black SUV soon rolls up behind him with it's headlights piercing through the black.

David sits up in the driver's as epinephrine reignites in his system, tensing his muscles and urging his hand to instinctively wander down to the grip of his firearm.

Not knowing what to expect, he takes the gun from its holster and tucks into the waistband of his pants behind his back. Donovan may have made a small fortune with his crimes, but he didn't associate with the brightest. However, he's not willing to take the chance of stepping out of his car without protection. Especially if it could save your life.

The vehicle stops just 30 or more yards away from his rear end, so David steps out of his vehicle cautiously, scanning the abandoned site for any possible unexpected passersby as he holds his keys in hand.

The lights shine blindingly in his eyes. He doesn't look away; he tries to keep intimidatingly calm as he stares back at whoever the drivers is.

He hears the car doors open. Black shadows move behind the lights, but he still can’t quite make them out. He listens for the doors, counting three opening and closing, or so he thinks. He just can't tell. All he knows is they're not alone and he's almost certain the driver didn't get out.

Gravel crunches under heavy footsteps as dark figures move towards the front of the car. Standing before the light, it becomes gradually easier to make out the shapes. There's particular one that seems familiar.

His stomach drops. His breathing quickens. The hairs on the back of his neck stand on end as he struggles to stay cool. Although brief and very brief at that, relief fills his chest.

Your eyes widen as the smelly black bag is torn off your head. Taking a moment to adjust to, your vision narrows in on him.

Taking mindless, instinctive steps, you try to run to him with wide frightened eyes until one of the large man behind you pulls you back roughly with a bruising grip on your arm.

There’s not much you can do to fight him. You bite down on the cloth gag that’s tied around your head, mentally repeating the masked man's words to yourself.

Don't do anything stupid. Stay calm. Do as we say and everything will be over.

David raises his hands as if surrendering himself when he notices the gun pressing into the side of your head. Your heart pounds as if it were trying to break free from your ribcages.

“I am unarmed” he states loudly, breaking the thick silence. “The money in the trunk. I’m gonna open it slowly and you can come get it.”

The lack of reply is his signal to go on.

He slowly takes his steps toward the back of his car. Keeping one hand high and his broad frame forward, he unlocks the trunk and leaves the key in the keyhole as the trunk door springs up.

One of the masked men order him to step away from the car and keep his hands before walking over the distance towards him. David’s eyes blink nervously as they watch you. Every step seems to take a lifetime. He just wants this to be over.

Once the man reaches the vehicle, he opens the bags to inspect their contents. The longer he rummages through them looking for what David believes to be a tracker, the more he blinks nervously.

Your knees buckle from the anxiety. Your fiancée is just so close and still so far. The gun to your hand is the only that grounds you and keeps you from running into his arms.

You sigh almost relieved when you see the man lifting the bags from the trunk, seemingly satisfied with the money. Walking back to his lackeys, he orders his guard dog to ‘let the bitch go’.

Your head spins as his words sink in. A blade glides between your wrists as the silver duct tape around them is cut. The gun lowers from your head, so you rush to cross the distance as you race to David.

You almost can’t believe you finally get to go home, to finally be with the man you love more than anything. Tears stream down your stained cheeks.

You’re too stunned to even pull the tape off or the gag off; like you’re walking in a dream. None of this feels real. It’s almost too good to be true.

Halfway to your fiancée, you hear a familiar sound that freezes your heart. Your gut sinks low as if the world’s been pulled out from underneath you. Red and blue lights glow in the distance and you realize David didn’t come alone.

[bardic-tales]

3.17.25: Secrets: Fractured Identity

Bianca’s reflection in the Mako Containment Chamber is a constant reminder of the internal war she continues to face. Struggling between the remnants of her celestial past and the overwhelming corruption of her present, she grapples with an identity fractured by Hojo and Ravenscroft’s experiments, Jenova and S-cells, and the transformation she never asked for. This internal battle is a secret she keeps even from Sephiroth, fearing that the truth of her shattered mind will push him away.

This post dives into how Bianca’s distorted self-image reflects her emotional turmoil and how she has slowly reconciled with the corruption she now embodies, seeing strength where there was once only fear.

Content Warning: Abandonment, body dysmorphia, hallucinations, isolation, identity crisis, manipulation, mental breakdown, self-loathing, self-rejection, trauma, transformation, victimization, psychological abuse, PTSD, guilt, grief, loss of innocence, loss of self, physical and emotional corruption, psychological torture, fear of rejection, emotional numbness, soul fragmentation.

After her first injection with Jenova and S-cells, Bianca hallucinated that Sephiroth was on the other side of the mako containment tank. She does not speak of what she saw in the Mako, nor does she confide in Sephiroth about the way her mind fractured in that tank.

The memories are blurred, slipping between the edges of reality and delusion, and she fears that voicing them would make them real. Was he truly there, watching her fall apart? Or was he just another specter conjured by her breaking mind?

One of the reasons Bianca suspects her vision of him is merely a hallucination stems from the way Sephiroth touches her containment tank: a gesture eerily reminiscent of how he once caressed Jenova's tank before he was lost to the Lifestream. She recalls that during that earlier time, his touch was charged with fervor as he monologued about humanity and his vision of the Promised Land.

In stark contrast, during her time with Hojo and Ravenscroft, Sephiroth is completely silent, offering no words to validate the intensity of his previous actions. This silence, contrasted with the memory of his passionate proclamations, leaves Bianca questioning whether her mind is fabricating a cruel mirage to torment her further. The dissonance between the familiar gesture and the lack of accompanying speech -- except to encourage her to embrace the darkness -- fuels her uncertainty, deepening her internal struggle between reality and delusion. The uncertainty if her vision was reality or not gnaws at her, and rather than risk Sephiroth’s indifference, she buries it deep, locking it away like all the other horrors she refuses to acknowledge.

This something she cannot even fully admit to herself. The night she lost herself to Jenova, to the infection, to the transformation Hojo forced upon her, was the night she ceased to be the woman she once was. But even now, she cannot say what she has become. Fallen Celsetial? A demon awakened? A monster?

When Bianca looks into her own reflection, she does not recognize what stares back. The face is hers, but wrong. Her features are distorted by the influence of the Mako, the Jenova cells, and something deeper, something older. Her indigo eyes, once gold and vibrant and alive, now glow with an unnatural bioluminescence, slit-pupiled like a predator in the dark. Her skin seems almost too perfect, stretching over a body that no longer fully belongs to her.

She sees herself as a being caught between realms, neither angel nor demon, but something worse: an aberration. The celestial grace she was born with has been tainted beyond recognition, and the demonic blood that once warred within her has twisted into something more unholy: something no longer bound by its original nature. She wanted to believe she could resist, that she could fight off the corruption and (instinctively) Sephiroth's influence, but now, when she looks at her reflection in the glass, all she sees is proof that she has already lost.

At first, Bianca mourned. She grieved the parts of herself that were stripped away: the purity of what she once was and the identity she fought to hold onto. She raged against the transformation, against the infection coursing through her veins and against Sephiroth, and against the slow, creeping sensation of being rewritten from the inside out.

And worst of all, she resented Sephiroth. He had promised to never leave her and to always protect her, and yet, when she reached out for him in her weakest moment, he had given her nothing. The silence, the coldness, and the absence of his intervention when she needed it most shattered something in her. She had followed him into the burning Nibelheim, thinking she could save him while the others sought to stop him, but in the end, it was she who drowned. It was she who was forsaken by him. He sought to purge all positive emotions, including his love for Bianca. The realization left a wound deeper than any experiment Hojo could have inflicted.

But pain has a way of hardening the soul, and over time, the grief faded, replaced by something else. She could no longer afford to lament what was taken from her. Instead, she learned to embrace it. She would make them all pay. And if Sephiroth wanted an enforcer, she would become that and so much more. She would give him Creation.

Now, when she looks at herself, she sees strength. The power that thrums beneath her skin, the inhuman beauty of her altered form, the majestic elegance of her blackened and indigo wings, and the force that allows her to stand beside Sephiroth as his equal is what matters now. The voice of doubt still lingers deep within the recesses of her mind. It reminds her that she was once something else. It reminds her that she was once someone else, a person who was going to fight alongside her first husband, Mordecai, and free all who was ensnared by her father, Asmodeus.

But Bianca has learned to ignore the doubt. She tells herself that this was always meant to be, that the suffering had a purpose, and that the thing she has become is something greater. Sephiroth calls her beautiful. He calls her powerful. And she clings to those words as though they are the only truths left in the world. If she admits the horror she felt at her own reflection or if she acknowledges the part of her that still fears what she is becoming, then she might break all over again. And she cannot afford to break. Not anymore.

tagging some fellow mutuals: @themaradwrites @craftyhal

@megandaisy9 @watermeezer

@prehistoric-creatures @creativechaosqueen @chickensarentcheap @seastarblue

@inkandimpressions @arrthurpendragon