#Root Amputation

[indianapolisendodonticspc]

Root Amputation at Indianapolis Endodontics PC

Root amputation is a specialized dental procedure that involves removing one or more roots from a multi-rooted tooth. It is typically performed as a last resort to save a tooth that has become infected or damaged beyond repair.

At Indianapolis Endodontics PC, our experienced endodontists are highly skilled in performing root amputation procedures. We use state-of-the-art technology and techniques to ensure that your procedure is as comfortable and successful as possible.

Why might I need a root amputation?

There are a number of reasons why you might need a root amputation, including:

Severe infection: If an infection in a tooth root cannot be treated with a root canal, root amputation may be necessary.

Vertical root fracture: A vertical root fracture is a crack in the tooth root that extends all the way to the gum line. This type of fracture can make it difficult to save the tooth, but root amputation may be an option.

Resorption: Resorption is a process where the tooth root is slowly broken down by the body. This can happen for a variety of reasons, including trauma or infection. If resorption is severe, root amputation may be necessary to save the tooth.

What to expect during a root amputation procedure

A root amputation procedure is typically performed under local anesthesia. However, in some cases, general anesthesia may be necessary.

To begin the procedure, the endodontist will make a small incision in the gum tissue to expose the tooth root. The root will then be sectioned off from the rest of the tooth and removed. The remaining tooth roots will be cleaned and sealed, and the incision will be closed with sutures.

Once the procedure is complete, you may experience some discomfort and swelling. This is usually normal and should subside within a few days. You will need to take antibiotics to prevent infection, and you may also need to wear a temporary crown or filling to protect the tooth.

Benefits of root amputation

Root amputation can offer a number of benefits, including:

Preserving the natural tooth: Root amputation can save a tooth that would otherwise need to be extracted.

Avoiding the need for dental implants: Dental implants can be expensive and time-consuming to place. Root amputation can be a more affordable and less invasive option.

Maintaining a healthy smile: A full and healthy smile is important for both your physical and emotional well-being. Root amputation can help you to keep your smile looking and feeling its best.

Contact Indianapolis Endodontics PC today

If you think you may need a root amputation, please contact Indianapolis Endodontics PC today. We offer a free consultation to discuss your individual needs and options.

[the-great-anteater]

Survivors' scars.

[super-paper]

Not to keep repeating what’s already been said, but: I think a lot of the dismissal of AFO’s "chops" as a villain tends to come from fans who simply don’t want to acknowledge that Tomura is his victim-- Or rather, appreciation of AFO as a villain seems directly proportional to how willing a person is to explore Tomura’s victimhood.

Like… pretty much everything about AFO’s treatment of Tomura is utterly skin crawling when you give it more than a passing glance and start to delve into the effects it has had (and still has!) on Tomura's beliefs and behavior. imho AFO is a villain who just gets worse and worse every time you reread the series, because with each reread you end up noticing ways he’s violated Tomura that might not have been immediately apparent during the first read through. He's a villain that inspires a sense of intense revulsion that sets him apart from the other villains in the series-- because the ultimate trap he laid for Tomura didn't actually hinge on Tomura "hating everything," it hinged on Tomura genuinely loving and trusting him and not even remotely anticipating that AFO would ever violate that trust. He sprung a trap that took advantage of Tomura's capacity for love, because AFO knew that Tomura would continue to walk towards him and view him as a comforting figure no matter how fuckin' ominous things looked:

"Come to me, now" and Tomura does, without the slightest bit of hesitation and without even questioning what he's seeing. Like. It's the way four little words can make you instantly nauseous bc of the far reaching implications they have for this dynamic.

So like. AFO is a “bad” villain in their eyes because acknowledging his worst acts of evil means you’ve gotta acknowledge exactly what he’s been doing to Tomura this whole time— and everything just sort of falls apart from there.

[sinfulforrest]

decided that for my final law of the year, I'm gonna draw him dickin down my sona >:3c

[temporarytemporal]

cling to me

I know I said I was going to distance myself from this piece of media because of all of its terrible connections, but these two characters seem to have taken root in a permanent place in my heart, and I can't let them go.

Anyway, here's some character design notes below the cut for the one person out there who's obsessed with these characters as much as me.

Early DSMP: the era of childhood innocence

Bandanas: They sport each other’s bandana’s (they’re hidden in the design for every era). I love character designs with complementary colors (and I love how red and green are also cranboo’s colors)

Disks: Early on, cat and mellohi represent the peaceful moments ctommy shared with his favorite people, but they went on to be a symbol of victory and independence from the people who have hurt him.

Flowers: Ctubbo collects flowers and tries to memorize the meanings and symbolism tied to each type of flower. He also collects them for his bees.

L’manberg: the era where children became soldiers

Horns: Ctubbo’s horns start to grow in here.

Pogtopia: the era of an exile and a secretary of state / spy

You can tell I joined the fandom at the end of this era because I don’t have many notes here or for the l’manberg era.

Exile: the era of an exile once again and and a president too young

Hair: Ctommy’s hair starts to grow longer as he neglects taking care of himself.

Clothes: Ctommy’s clothes are tattered; one shoe is destroyed and he took to wearing cw-lbur’s (f-ck ccw-lbur btw!!) trench coat.

Bandages: Ctubbo’s wrapped in bandages from his recently earned firework burns. He’s gone blind in his right eye, and he’s missing the ring and pinkie finger on his right hand.

Compasses: They share their matching ‘your tommy’ and ‘your tubbo’ compasses

Hog Hunt: the era where one sought to kill the blood god while the other sought refuge there

Stolen goods: Ctommy’s has his antarctic empire outfit plus all the goods he stole from ctechno like the turtle helmet, golden apples, and the axe of peace.

Bedrock: Ctommy wears his counterpart piece matching techno’s from his ear.

Prosthetic: Ctommy’s right foot had to be amputated after he loses it to frostbite in the trek to cemeraldduo’s cabin. Ctechno gives him a simple prosthetic.

Disc Finale: the era of mended relationships and a final stand

Headband: Ctommy begins to wear a devil headband to fit in more, as he’s one of the few humans on the server. The devil horns were chosen to resemble ceryn’s real ones.

Patchwork: Ctommy learns to sew, and he fixes his tattered clothes from exile.

Post Revival:

Devil horns: Ctommy’s devil horns (plus a tail) become real after revival, and he gets a white streak in his hair.

Prime cross: The bad things that have happened to them both that they survived strengthen ctommy’s faith in prime, whereas they weaken ctubbo’s faith.

Sweater: Ctommy makes himself a sweater from friend’s wool.

Mechanical inventions: Ctubbo pursues his passion for engineering more as he makes mechanical bee drones and studies nuclear physics. He also makes himself prosthetic fingers, and he upgrades ctommy’s prosthetic foot.

Marriage ring: Ctubbo marries cranboo platonically and wears the ring on his horn. He also founds snowchester so he can have a place to protect his loved ones and raise his son. He grows out his hair to avoid eye contact for cranboo and to cover his scars.

Body type: Ctubbo gets chubbier and gains some muscle as he gets a bit happier in life.

Post DSMP:

The prison break and everything after it never happened. These are my OCs, and I make the rules because every actor/writer who played a part in their creation either abandoned them or turned out to be a terrible person. Cbenchtrio live happily ever after and begin their journey of healing while cdream rots in prison forever.

[usodeshou]

-

[fumikoshi]

PLEASURE TOY

✧ — SUMMARY; you're a civilian attracting the attention of a cult leader with no conscience.

✧ — CONTENT; 18+ ONLY // MDNI — fem! civilian reader, use of monkey, size kink, oral m!receiving), everyone is of legal age, innocence kink, MENTİONİNG OF AMPUTATİNG, NON-CON

tags: @nyctoaerah @maddyguru

Enjoy, sweeties <3

Your innocence was appalling, and he had to admit it was charming, despite his hatred for non-sorcerers. The way your cheeks blushed red, the way your eyes widened, and how your tiny hands clenched nervously.

He approached you, his tall frame looming over your short one. As he towered over you, he could smell the scent of innocence and fear wafting from your being.

"Let's get this farce over with, shall we?"

His fingers reached for your chin, lifting it gently so your eyes met his small purple ones. The contact sent shivers down your spine, goosebumps erupting all over your pale skin.

Slowly, he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours as he whispered, "Close your eyes, little girl."

With a gentle push, he guided you to the bed, his large hands cupping your tiny ones to help you lay down. Your body quivered under his strong grip, feeling a mix of fear and excitement.

He stepped back, removing his kasaya garment to reveal a black yukata robe underneath. Suguru untied it, letting it fall to the floor, revealing his toned body beneath.

He stood there, shirtless, giving you time to take in the sight. His muscles rip

pled with every breath he took. The room grew quiet as he approached the bed once more.

"Take off your clothes," he commanded softly, his tone calm yet authoritative.

You hesitated, unsure of what to do. Hesitating was a mistake, however. Suguru's hand lashed out, grabbing your wrist firmly, pulling you into a sitting position.

"Don't make me repeat myself, monkey," he scowled, his purple eyes glinting dangerously.

Fear taken root in your chest, but you quickly obeyed. Your trembling hands moved to undo the buttons of your dress, revealing the white lace panties and bra set underneath. Slowly, you removed the dress, feeling exposed as you stood there, shivering slightly.

Your innocence, your purity, was now on display for him. He leaned in closer, his warm breath tickling your ear as he whispered

"Lie back down, little monkey."

Obediently, you lay back on the bed, your heart pounding as you waited for whatever came next. He returned to the edge of the bed, his eyes roaming over your naked form.

"Such a little thing," he muttered, more to himself than to you. Then, with a smile, he climbed onto the bed

you close your eyes and put your small hands on his chest

''p-please... I-I'm not ready yet..."

You weren't really ready, you were scared. You've never done this before. And you didn't think he would be kind to you, because in his eyes you were just trash. A piece of garbage that wasn't a sorcerer.

you were just a monkey in his eyes, so he doesn't think about your comfort.

He hates non-sorcerers, they are nothing but a monkey to him.

His smile faltered, and eyes darkened. "Silence, monkey." he snapped, his hand connecting with your cheek hard enough to leave a stinging mark.

The sudden slap caught you off guard, your head snapped to the side with the force of it. Tears welled up in your eyes, but you didn't dare cry. You knew what would come next if you did.

"Be grateful I tolerate a creature as pathetic as you. Tonight, you will satisfy your master" he growled, his eyes fiery as they bore into yours.

Your lip quivered, and you nodded, swallowing your pride and fear

"You aren't supposed to have opinions, monkey. You're supposed to obey."

His cold words only served to deepen the chill that ran through your body

Without further ado, He crawled onto the bed, straddling your hips. You couldn't move, frozen by fear and arousal you didn't understand. His large hands grabbed your tiny wrists, pinning them to the mattress beside your head.

“Don't struggle," he warned, the tension in his voice clear. "Otherwise, I may have to resort to more forceful measures."

He leaned over and whispered in your ear ''precautions like amputating your limbs…''

your eyes widened in terror when you heard his words, tears dripped eyes

''G-geto-sama-!''

Trembling, you bit your lip, trying to hold back the scream and sobs that threatened to escape. He chuckled darkly, obviously enjoying your fear

''Now that you don't want me to use your pussy, then I'll use your mouth, monkey.''

He grabbed you by the hair and pushed you off the bed and sat on the bed.

"On your knees," he ordered, and you obeyed, scooting onto your hands and knees.

In front of you, Suguru gripped his length, which was now fully erect. He hovered it just above your face, the warm, moist tip brushing against your cheek.

"Open your mouth," he commanded, watching your face intently.

You hesitated, unsure of what to do. He sighed heavily, clearly losing patience. This time, he didn't hit you. Instead, he grabbed you by the back of the head, pushing his cock between your lips.

The sensation was overwhelming, foreign, and somehow wrong. But you did as he told you, swallowing as much as you could. The taste was unfamiliar and seemed off, like a rug drenched in vomit.

He began to thrust slowly at first, picking up speed as he seemed to enjoy your inexperience. He used your hair to guide your head, making you move up and down on his shaft.

He groaned, the intensity in his voice increasing. "Do you like that?" he asked, pulling out just enough for you to answer.

You shook your head frantically, tears streaming down your face.

He laughed cruelly. "That's too bad. You'll have to learn to enjoy it, monkey. Now, suck harder."

With his harsh words, he pushed back into your mouth, the head of his cock hitting the back of your throat. You gagged, your body convulsing involuntarily.

Suguru's pace increased, his large hands tightening in your hair. The pressure built until he let out a loud, gratifying groan.

He exploded inside your mouth, his hot cum filling you. It tasted even worse than before, choking you as it flooded your throat.

You coughed and gagged, trying to expel the contents, but Suguru's grip was firm. "Swallow it, monkey," he demanded, his voice low and insistent.

Reluctantly, you forced yourself to swallow, the warm liquid coating your throat. Once he was done, Suguru pulled out, wiping the remaining cum from your lips with the back of his hand.

You were left on your knees, feeling dirty and used. He watched you for a moment before getting off the bed. With a sigh, he put his robe back on.

"Rest for now. We'll do this again soon."

He walked to the door, pausing before he left. "And know this, you're nothing but a monkey I'll throw away when I get bored."

He left the room, closing the door softly behind him. You laid there, feeling vulnerable and violated. Tears stained your cheeks as you curled up into a ball, wishing you could disappear.

[lumpsbumpsandwhumps]

unpopular opinion but whump should and deserves to be messy

"Yeah duh there's plenty of scenarios with blood and tears--" no. I want more.

I want pink tinted spit dribbling out of Whumpee's mouth. I want strings of saliva connecting between their busted lip to Whumper's tongue. I want drool running down the corners of their mouths because of a gag that makes it difficult to swallow.

I want sweat making Whumpee feel sticky and clammy to the touch. I want their skin to be slick and soaking into their soiled clothes. I want them to squirm in discomfort of a dirty shirt clinging to their back from precious fluids that are going to risk further dehydration. I want their hair to be continuously damp and hanging in thick strands in their face.

I want the scabs to turn white with pus and black with infection. I want old wounds to tear open and bleed a thick red. I want the pink flesh underneath to pulse and quiver, the sight of yellow fat and cartilage. I want blood vessels and capillaries to burst and spread over an area, I want burns to start brown and peel away to a tender pink.

I want Whumpee to vomit out of their nose because their mouth is gagged. I want bile to reek on their clothing and on their tongue. I want them to grow use to the taste of bitter blood and burning chyme forever in the back of their throat. I want them to have to snort and hack to be able to spit out whatever was still caught on their tongue or risk swallowing it down.

I want their tears to remain unwiped and crusting over their eyes. I want snot to smear over their cheeks and leave their lips uncomfortably tacky. I want their face to remain blotchy and red because they just can't get it clean. I want dirt and blood and skin to build up under their fingernails to the point they risk infecting their own wounds if they try and mess with it. I want Whumpee to only be sprayed down with cold water and an old towel, never any soap and never in all the creases of their body.

I want their bodies caked in grime and viscera and bodily fluids. I want Whumper to never give them the luxury of feeling clean and in fact actively making them more filthy each time. I want Whumpee's clothes yellowed and their hair matted and their skin sickly. I want injuries to never properly heal so that the only option is to amputate the necrosis. I want Whumper to force Whumpee to clean up whatever kind of mess they made by licking it off the floor.

I want arteries to spew like a garden sprinkler. I want the exposed roots of pulled teeth to dangle freely in their mouth. I want Whumpee's hair, including all of their body hair, to grow to unruly lengths that are constantly tangled and ingrown. I want them to find comfort in starving because it means there's nothing to risk throwing up. I want them to scrub their skin raw and bleeding, uncaring how much it aggravates their injuries or how the soap stings, the first chance they're given for a real bath.

I want it to be nasty!!!!!!

[miviaceleste]

A Blackrock Story: A Boy with Turquoise Eyes

Happy 12th Anniversary to Blackrock Chronicle!

This comic ended up being 47 pages long (when I first sketched it, it was only 20 pages long). Since I can only upload 30 images in a post, I had to combine 2 pages into 1 image so hopefully it's still visually fine and not annoying to scroll through!

I wrote this mini-story more than 10 years ago, so I figured it was time to finally make it into a comic (after editing the writing a lot because I became a much better writer since lol).

Be aware of the TWs, and I hope you enjoy this comic!

TW: Violence || Blood || Injuries/Scars/Burn Marks || Kidnapping || (Temporary) Death || Loss of Limb / Amputation

Thank you all for reading one of my most insane projects ever!

Now, here’s another long story:

About 8 years ago, my life became so busy that to stay on top of my studies and activities, I stopped watching a lot of YouTubers, including the Yogscast.

I’ve grown up throughout the years. I had to stop acting like a kid to figure out what I wanted to do for the rest of my life. I’m still an artist today, but I haven’t drawn in this way for about 3 years to pursue my real passion. I love to draw, but I didn’t have the time or inspiration to make something grand.

About 3 months ago, I suddenly got curious about how all those YouTubers I stopped watching were doing, so I checked out their channels and watched a video or two before moving on. When I got to the Yogscast channel, on the other hand, I quickly fell in love with the new content and with everyone again.

It was insane to see how immediately my love for them came back. In 3 months, I’ve watched so many videos and streams/VODs. It’s all so comforting, funny, and uplifting. Clearly, I missed so much content in the past 8 years, but at least I don’t have to worry about running out of things to watch for a while.

What made me most happy was that despite changing a lot, I never stopped being that kid who laughed at the Yogscast’s shenanigans. It just goes to show that no matter how much the world tries to push you around, you never lose that sense of joy you had as a child.

Now, about Rythian:

Since I started watching the Yogscast in 2011, Rythian has always been my favorite. I loved his series so much, especially with how he got into character to give us an immersive experience. It was an escape for me as a kid. When difficult moments were thrown at me, I watched Rythian’s series to find a sense of comfort.

So when I started watching his and Zoey’s Blackrock series, my mind was blown. The storytelling, acting, humor, and drama of the series were so immersive and touching that my creativity exploded.

I mainly use art to express myself and my interests because I struggle to talk about it. But funny enough, Blackrock was the only interest of mine that got me to not draw, but to write. I wrote a lot of short stories about the series—even how I envisioned the series would end. I was so inspired to create all the time from this series.

And what’s crazy is that at the beginning of this summer, I found all of those written drafts and notes from when I was a kid. I kept them all for 10+ years and found a very loose (and not that good) draft of this comic and I felt really inspired to finish it.

It was roughly when I was first watching Blackrock too when I realized that I can be creative in the future. The Yogscast helped me understand that I can do whatever I want for the rest of my life. If they could do it, then why can’t I?

What’s also wonderful is that even after so many years, Rythian never stopped being my favorite. When I started watching the main channel again a few months ago, I immediately found myself rooting for him whenever he was in the group videos. I just remembered how much happiness he brought me when I was younger and it makes me so happy that I still get so much joy whenever I hear his voice.

While working on this comic, I watched all of Kirbycraft and caught up on Kirby Farm. I can’t help but smile the whole time Rythian, Briony, and Kirsty interact with one another. The dynamic of these three brings me so much laughter and comfort. A part of me is upset that I didn’t get back to watching everyone when Kirbycraft was still live, but better late than never, right?

I also originally started this comic without the intention of posting it. But then I figured, Hey, it’d be great to share it with everyone who’s also been impacted by this series and the Yogscast in general, so I made this blog to post it here. Honestly, I’m not sure when the next time I’ll be able to draw is (who knew building a career takes away a lot of your energy and time?). But I think that’s what’s so wonderful about my love for Yogscast and particularly Blackrock: I didn’t make this comic for the likes or views. It was just because I wanted to, and I’m so happy to see there are so many people on here who feel the same love for them as I do.

This series and the people who made it, along with the people who supported it and loved it and continued to love it, impacted me for the better. I learned so many years ago that I can be creative for a living, and have been working hard towards doing that since.

Happy 12th Anniversary to the Blackrock Chronicle. To Rythian and Zoey who put a smile on this kid’s face even during the toughest of times.

And to the Yogscast, thank you for being there for me when I needed you all the most and for still being here when I came back. Your ability to inspire me and make me laugh never disappeared throughout the years I was gone, and I’m ready to laugh some more.

[moofbat]

i’ve been existing in a state of overwhelming anxiety recently and needed to return to my roots. have a sunbathing dwarf.

ID: a fully coloured digital drawing of zolf smith from rusty quill gaming lying on a towel on a beach. he is viewed from above, lying on his back with his right arm by his side and his left is resting on his stomach holding a harrison campbell book. he is a fat white dwarf with two amputated legs, his right is amputated beneath the knee and the left is above the knee. he has a white beard and hair, and is wearing only a white pair of boxers with red hearts on them. he is relaxing with a neutral expression, his eyes closed. he is covered in freckles and white body hair, he has a star tattoo on his sternum and has large rings in his nipples. he also has piercings in his ears. he is holding a blue book titled ‘the power of the son’, and has a pair of red sunglasses lying next to him on his blue towel. end ID.

[the-great-anteater]

just wanted to draw modern!AU Leonard and give him a cool high tech prosthetic leg

[artbean]

Corroded Coffin is back with their sophomore album, Memento Mori Motel.

With even more groundbreaking songs than the last album, those four boys from Hawkins Indiana have transformed into men with a message and a cohesive vision—keeping fans of rock and metal mesmerized by their musical innovation that defies genre entirely. (@eddiemonth day 8: rockstar)

The opening track, Jack Of All, plays like an instant classic. The riffs are crisp and clear as they poke fun at both their newfound fame and rural roots. I’m climbing up the walls / You just don’t have the balls / I’m never gonna fall / ‘cause I’m the Jack of All. The second song, If I Object (Objectify), is all noise, with hardly even a second to breathe before the wailing cries at the end. The words if I object melt into the word objectify, closing out the song in a soaring scream.

Hit The Nail Out Of The Park is a thoughtful examination of American boyhood, without shying away from how ugly growing up can be. The tempo may be slower but the track has a grit to it that can’t be ignored. Six Feet Under continues to wow audiences as the lead single, comparing the slow death of a relationship to being buried alive. Daisies sprout overhead / In the thick of goodbye / Now it’s just me in a flowerbed / Eternally wondering why.

In the second half of the album, Necrotizing Facist Idol isn’t afraid to punch up with hard hits or make a political statement. The message is pretty clear in the chorus: He’s eaten away at too much of our lives / He’s going to pay for his sins when he dies / No time to wait / Let’s amputate / The necrotizing fascist idol. 24hr lobotomy is more of an internal struggle of self destructive tendencies, and the desire to numb any feeling at all—and ultimately crashing down to earth when the vices wear off.

Postcard From Hell is a lighthearted, tongue-in-cheek vision of life after death, musing on the afterlife being not unlike a long, grueling vacation. The album ends on a tender yet bittersweet note, with the mysteriously titled Microscopic Fibers (Dying Star). The harmonizing guitars at the end is a standout moment as the song goes out with a bang, which turns into the whisper of the final notes. I can see your fire from light years through time / Like a star that died before it ever graced my eyes / Oh, slipping through my fingers (fingers, fingers) / Oh, how your presence lingers (lingers, lingers).

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

The Arcana HCs: M6's ringtones

Julian

For Asra: Hot n Cold by Katy Perry

I mean, does it even need explaining? Yes, Asra knows this is their assigned ringtone, and no, they don't mind it at all

For Nadia: Run the World (Girls) by Beyonce

Nadia didn't know that this was her ringtone until you told her, to which she looked flattered and Julian began to stutter

For Muriel: Why Can't We Be Friends by War

Does Julian respect that Muriel is allowed to feel however he wants to about him? Yes. Does the dislike still bother him? ... maybe

For Portia: Sweet Child O' Mine by Guns N' Roses

This was the most sentimental ringtone Portia would allow him to set for her, and only because of the sick guitar intro

For Lucio: Mean by Taylor Swift

He's not going to lie, some of Lucio's accusatory words did hurt a little, especially after he saved his life with that amputation

For you: Can't Help Falling in Love by Elvis Presley

A classic. It sums up his feelings for you perfectly, and if you happen to dial him in earshot he'll croon along for you

Asra

For Julian: Dumb Ways to Die by Tangerine Kitty

There's no hard feelings between them anymore, but the moment Julian decided dying counted as a solution this became his song

For Nadia: That's My Girl by Little Mix

She might not remember how close they were, but after the tea parties they had together, he'll always be rooting for her

For Muriel: Lean On by Major Lazer

Never let it be said that they can't be sentimental. They'll just do it to EDM and cheesy lyrics for maximum teasing potential

For Portia: Drama by AJR

If you think for a second that he and Portia didn't eventually bond over their love of collecting tea, I beg you to reconsider

For Lucio: Stupid Hoe by Nicki Minaj

You can try to shame them for this all you want. They are humming along, and have been known to keep singing after picking up

For you: Tear in my Heart by twenty one pilots

You're the tear in his heart, and that means he's alive. Changes it sometimes to lighten the mood, but always switches back

Nadia

For Julian: Rasputin by Boney M.

She doesn't remember him, but there's one thing she knows for sure - the only thing he does more shamelessly than flirt is dance

For Asra: Daydreamer by AURORA

Doesn't the title of the song say enough? Even if it didn't, the dreamy music fits them too well too deny

For Muriel: Lean on Me by Bill Withers

Here is what she knows about Muriel: Vesuvia failed him, and she wants him to have better. Now if she could just get his trust ...

For Portia: Count on Me by Bruno Mars

The person who sat by her as she slept and took care of her needs after awakening and stuck by her side? She can count on her

For Lucio: Shout Out to My Ex by Little Mix

Never let it be said that Nadia is afraid of growing and getting stronger. Though saying he broke her heart is an overstatement

For you: Halo by Beyonce

Just ... read through the lyrics. She's never going to hear you call her without remembering what you mean to her

Muriel

For Julian: D.I.L.L.I.G.A.F. by Kevin Bloody Wilson

Specifically the chorus - "Do I Look, Like I Give A F***: DILLIGAF." He doesn't plan on getting chummy with him any time soon

For Asra: Stressed Out by twenty one pilots

He knows they both had to grow up and suffer, but he still gets nostalgic for the quieter years they spent as kids in the woods

For Nadia: Kings & Queens by Ava Max

Is she intimidating? Yeah, but he'd pop champagne to celebrate her succeeding Lucio any day. More queens on the throne, please

For Portia: W.I.T.C.H. by Devon Cole

Nadia may be intimidating, but Portia's the one he truly fears the most. This woman is small and mighty and way too unpredictable

For Lucio: When Will You Die? by They Might Be Giants

Does he have any murderous intent towards the count? not really. Will he sleep easier when he knows he's all the way gone? ... yeah

For you: All of Me by John Legend

Well it's true, isn't it? You pulled him back out into the world and earned his total trust. But he's never letting you hear his ringtone

Portia

For Julian: Welcome to the Black Parade by My Chemical Romance

As all younger sisters must, she chose this solely to make fun of him. Julian, on the other hand, is flattered at the iconic song choice

For Asra: Jericho by Iniko

She knows there's better choices out there, but it's just the vibes, y'know? Try convincing her that they haven't been to outer space

For Nadia: Best Friend by Saweetie

Can't resist singing along to it every time it goes off. Which means that she'll always answer with "hi bestie!!" even when she shouldn't

For Muriel: Y.M.C.A. by Village People

1) She doesn't know him that well, 2) it's a really good song, 3) telling him not to feel down is what she wants to do anyways

For Lucio: Girl on Fire by Alicia Keys

*cue gremlin face* sure, she never met him personally, but the dude wasn't a great husband for her bestie. giggles each time

For you: I Will Always Love You by Dolly Parton

Likes to belt this out to you when she picks up. Whether she squeaks on the high notes each time is up to the listener

Lucio

For Julian: House of Memories by Panic! at the Disco

You can't get amputated on the battlefield by a newbie without trauma bonding at least a little bit. Besides, it's catchy

For Asra: Teenagers by My Chemical Romance

Ohh, he remembers when they were a teenager, and he does not want to go back. He had good reason to be uneasy around them

For Nadia: We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together by Taylor Swift

Yes, he knows their marriage ended because he died, but indulge him a little if sometimes he likes to fantasize that he called it off

For Muriel: Sorry by Justin Bieber

Well, what other song are you supposed to give the victim of your past self? Okay so maybe it isn't the best apology, but it is "sorry"

For Portia: Sweet but a Psycho by Ava Max

Oh, he knows that the force truly worth fearing is not the woman you did wrong - it's her loyal and unhinged best friend.

For you: Teenage Dream by Katy Perry

You do make him feel like a teenager again! It's not nearly as glamorous as life used to be, but having you there for it is exciting

[hurtghul]

ㅤⓘㅤCORRECTING ERRORS.

⩇⩇ 🗼 ▍ FRIENDLY RELATIONSHIP. WARNINGS? MILD INSULTS. READER'S GENDER: NEUTRAL. ¡ 1692 WORDS ! SPANISH VERSION HERE.

ⓘ ¡Damian is the type of friend who is honest and gives you sensible advice!

ⓘ He will always tell you when you're wrong… although he may not be the best when it comes to providing emotional support!

ⓘ He won't sugarcoat anything: he is direct and tough if necessary!

notes: SORRY FOR MY BAD ENGLISH.

If there's one thing you've learned about Damian, it's that he never stays silent, especially when he sees someone close to him veering off the wrong path. Whether it's for minor or insurmountable issues, he refuses to stand idly by without intervening on their behalf.

He's not someone who beats around the bush, and his frankness often (or rather, always) leaves you breathless, and you don't even know why… But it's probably because his penetrating gaze never wavers from yours.

And no matter how hard you try, you couldn't hold his gaze, so pure and burning green. Behind his carefully composed features, you could sense how he expressed his contempt with every prolonged silence. His clenched fists betrayed the tension he barely managed to contain, as if he wished to strike you so you could finally understand.

"You're being a pathetic idiot" are the first words that escape his lips, launching directly at you, and you can't help but feel as if he punched you in the stomach with every syllable dripping with disdain and disappointment, each statement striking your senses already battered by your own thoughts.

While he may be your best friend, his words didn't seek to comfort you in the slightest; his touch didn't promise the solace you were looking for. He hadn't come to heal your wounds but to tear off the poisoned bandage you thought would cover them.

Forget the notion that best friends treat each other nicely, with love and tenderness. For him, friendship wasn't a bed of roses to seek refuge from pain.

His devotion to you wasn't expressed through caresses or pretty phrases. It was his fists that would push if necessary to pull you out of the mess you were sinking into, and with a sword in hand if needed, due to your stubborn way of acting.

There was no room for subtlety when it came to saving what he considered to be his. He wouldn't even allow you to take shelter in the embrace of sorrow, to take root in the muddy ground of the very people who left you in such a state. He would uproot you, like removing a cancerous growth, even if the process was as brutal as a surgical amputation.

He would never allow you to succumb to your own pain. He only wanted to help you, even if he wasn't the right person for it.

With your face red with humiliation, you try to defend yourself, babbling excuses that sound increasingly feeble to your own ears. You wanted to articulate a defense, to provide an explanation that would appease his anger… but the truth is, you had no words. Your barely uttered excuses sound weaker and weaker to your own ears. His truths had cut you open, exposing your most intimate miseries.

You felt naked and defenseless under his presence, so overwhelming that it seemed to drain the oxygen from your lungs with every breath. The solidity of his posture, so upright and unyielding, made your fragile structure tremble. In his presence, you felt tiny and insignificant, an insect tossed about by the currents of your own misguided self-disdain. How could you stand under the crushing weight of such a presence, which paled your will with the ease of a fading light? Everything about him seemed designed to diminish and break you, leaving you on the edge of the precipice.

Who could avoid feeling this way when Damian's gaze remains unwavering, his furrowed brow indicating that he won't be deceived by your cheap justifications?

"Why can't you see that you're sinking?" he interrupts you before you can speak again, his tone already irritable, cutting through the heavy air that has accumulated in the room. "I know you're better than this."

His hand reaches out to your face, gently holding your chin to force you to lift your gaze, to face him.

"You have to stop," he insists, his voice now soft, lowering in volume, and that hurts even more than his previous harsh criticisms. "You can't go on like this."

"I'm not the one who is wrong," you deny, "I'm not…"

Damian lowered his hand, gripping your shoulder with more assurance. He's aware that he has been aggressive in the past, so now, with relaxed nerves, he tries to show you that he's not your enemy; he's your friend, doing what needs to be done.

"You are," he shakes his head in resignation, watching as you barely acknowledge his words with a devastating expression. "Hey, don't start with that."

That was the damn expression you had on your face every time you felt bad about something, guilty like a puppy hiding its tail between its legs.

"I don't hate you for that," he immediately continues, "but I can't see you doing… this. I can't let you keep lying to yourself."

You slump on the edge of the room's sofa, using it as a way to ignore the discomfort of the lesser hero's influence over you. But he doesn't stay behind for a second, sighing and sitting by your side.

You can still feel him next to you, and it suffocates you, but it's comforting at the same time. It's the knowledge that he's present, that he's not leaving you hanging.

"Do you understand me?"

You take a minute, or maybe ten, taking deep breaths and assimilating his words. Your mind is a whirlwind of conflicting emotions, doubts, and criticisms that threaten to bring on a migraine for which you won't be grateful at all.

And he remains there, squinting his green orbs, searching for any trace of understanding in you.

"I know," you whisper, with a dry throat and a hitched breath. Your heart races, trying to make its way to acceptance, but you can barely manage it.

"You know?" His smile is that of someone who has accomplished their goal, the smile of a man who has broken through the wall of your pride and now appears satisfied.

You hunch over a little more, allowing yourself to fully feel the humiliation in which your friend has exposed you. You settle in, back against the cushion, hands gripping your knees, gaze fixed on the emptiness of the well-maintained wooden floor.

The only thing Damian thinks is best to alleviate the situation is to put his arm around your shoulders. Not in a comforting gesture, but in a supportive squeeze. It's his way of showing you that you're not alone, that you notice it, that you feel it.

"We're going to fix this," his jaw tightens, and you can feel the pressure of his arm growing.

"How?" you stammer, gripping the surface of the sofa. You don't know where to go, what to think, or what to feel.

"By starting with owning up to your mistakes," his firm tone leaves no room for discussion. "And by acknowledging that you're not alone."

His eyes open slightly, never leaving your sight, fixed on every one of your movements: the twitch of your fingers, how your eyes dart from side to side to avoid it, or even how you purse your lips to hold back any impulsive words.

"I'm here," he reminds you, and his smile, now, is kind. "And I won't leave you."

You allow yourself to release a deep and shaky sigh. Your mind is a chaos of emotions seeking an escape, but he doesn't allow it with his hand lightly squeezing your shoulder, causing you to start accepting what you're hearing.

"But I'm not going to be your mother or your diaper-changing nanny," he raises an eyebrow in disdain. "You have to be the one to make the decision."

He turns you to face him directly on the sofa, his hands delicately moving on your arms, refusing to let go of you for the moment.

"Why are you so tough?" you complain, catching his attention and causing his lips to curve into a mocking smile.

"Because if I'm not, who else will be?" he responds, maintaining his layer of seriousness. "I don't think your neighbor will point out how messed up you are down to your neurons."

"Do you think I don't know that I'm damn messed up?"

"You know?" he says, barely flinching. "Then go fix it."

Your fists tighten and loosen in an endless cycle of frustration and anxiety that consumes you inch by inch.

"I can't."

"Why not?" his questioning, despite sounding like one, is not an attack but rather a push for you to examine your own fears and excuses.

"Because…" your mouth dries up, your breath halts in your throat.

"Because…?"

You get caught in an uncomfortable silence, the walls of the room feel tight, and the weight of your mistakes accumulates in your chest.

Your friend, the one who fears no truth, the one who doesn't allow life to slide by you without leaving marks, stares at you intently, still waiting for your response.

"Why can't you?" his persistence continues.

You take a moment, sighing, trying to articulate the reasons that remain silent on your lips. Your gaze drifts, searching for answers in the emptiness surrounding you.

"Because you're afraid," Damian finishes the sentence, with the certainty of someone who has already fought the monster that now torments you. "Because you believe you don't deserve to be happy without it."

Reluctantly, you nod in response to his harsh words, wishing deep down to dismiss them as incorrect despite their accuracy.

Damian knows it, and that's why his smile widens, displaying that damn smile he always wears when he's got you figured out. But it's not a cruel smile like in most of his victories; it's the smile of someone who knows you're making progress.

"I'm here for you, remember that, you hollow-headed fool. So don't you dare whine any longer about that stupidity."

That's just how he is. His tough, and sometimes even hostile, way of speaking is his peculiar way of showing you that he cares, that his honesty isn't a weapon to hurt you but a way to help you see yourself from a different perspective.

He has his own way of expressing his friendship and concern for you. It's that same affection from someone who isn't afraid to burn you with their truth if it means rescuing you from the clutches of your worst enemy: yourself.

Did you know that for that reason, and only for that reason, Damian would always be ready to pull you out of there because, in his own way, he cared about your well-being.

[saintsenara]

What are your thoughts on mediwitches and medical care in the Wizarding World?

thank you very much for the asks, @thesilverstarling and @yorickofyore, which i have handily combined into one for the chance to talk about a worldbuilding question i am legitimately obsessed with:

what the hell is going on with wizarding medicine? part one: the structure of the healthcare system

as i've said here, something which is really interesting when thinking about the wizarding healthcare system is that the signing of the statute of secrecy - the event which causes the total separation of the magical and muggle worlds - in 1689 takes place before a period of considerable advancement in western medicine.

i really like the fact that the canonical worldbuilding around potions suggests that many disciplines of wizarding science are more closely rooted in the medieval and early-modern history of science than their muggle equivalents. i also like the fact that the natural end point of the archaic muggle technology which is used in the series to make the wizarding world seem whimsical by virtue of it being old-fashioned [steam trains etc.] is to assume that wizards live in a world where cutting-edge medical technology is unheard of...

and, therefore, to think of wizarding medicine as a discipline which is meaningfully distinct from its muggle cousin.

and which isn't necessarily more advanced...

the historical context

a muggle physician working in what is now the united kingdom when the statute of secrecy was signed lacked much of what we would take to be basic medical knowledge today, even if he'd studied medicine at a university. he wouldn't know what germs were, for example, and he might still believe that the body was governed by four humours [a theory which was starting to be questioned at the time]. he would never have seen a stethoscope [not invented until 1816]. he would consider the microscope [first used in a scientific context in 1666] bizarre, new-fangled technology - and he is unlikely, especially if he worked outside of london, oxford, or cambridge, to have ever seen one.

he would have had less opportunity to learn about human anatomy, no matter the form his training took, than medical students today. dissections were fairly uncommon, for religious reasons, and surgery didn't really exist as a field... not least because anaesthesia wasn't available until the middle of the nineteenth century.

this is not to say, however, that his anatomical knowledge would have been wrong.

he would probably have relied for his understanding of the inner working of the body on a text called de humani corporis fabrica [on the fabric of the human body], published in the 1540s by the belgian surgeon andreas vesalius. this text - a detailed study of the human body [which supplanted the handbooks in use prior to the sixteenth century - those of the roman physician, galen] - was possible because vesalius managed to obtain a steady supply of executed criminals to dissect. it's a fascinating text - not least because it's still pretty accurate.

as a result, our physician would be aware of many of the major medical discoveries of the later 1500s and 1600s - such as the structure of the musculoskeletal system, the fact that blood circulates in the body, and the fact that the human lungs require the inhalation of air to function.

unless the need for a surgical treatment [such as the extraction of a tooth or the amputation of a limb] was obvious, most of the treatments he would prescribe would be herbal - and his dispensary would include not only plants from all over eurasia, but also from european colonies in the americas.

he might, for example, be found prescribing chocolate... which would make madam pomfrey happy:

“Well, he should have some chocolate, at the very least,” said Madam Pomfrey, who was now trying to peer into Harry’s eyes. “I’ve already had some,” said Harry. “Professor Lupin gave me some. He gave it to all of us.”  “Did he, now?” said Madam Pomfrey approvingly. “So we’ve finally got a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher who knows his remedies?”

it's important to note that many of these traditional herbal remedies genuinely work. plenty of modern medicines are developed from them [the most widely known, i imagine, being aspirin], and anyone taking a herbal remedy should be aware that they need to check how this remedy interacts with any other medication or supplements they take [especially - i beg - if the herbal remedy in question is st john's wort...]

but it's also true that our early-modern physician would spend a lot of time prescribing various odd pastes, poultices, potions, and powders, made from ingredients such as stones, spiders' webs, animal blood, and human body parts.

[he might even have recommended some of his patients swallow a bezoar - even if the efficacy of these as a cure for poisoning was starting to be doubted in the seventeenth century...]

and his go-to treatment would - of course - be bloodletting, to remove "bad blood", the cause of myriad ills, from the body.

jkr is - obviously - extremely fond of using these medieval and early-modern remedies as part of the worldbuilding around magical medicine. she's also fond of extending the obsolete technology which is used to make the wizarding world feel whimsical into the realm of the body - wizards wear monocles and use ear trumpets, both of which are assistive devices, because they make the setting feel more magical to a reader in 1997 [and beyond] than glasses and hearing aids.

but there is - if one wants there to be - a sinister undercurrent to the idea that all aspects of wizarding healthcare retain a pre-modern flavour.

wizards do canonically have attitudes towards the body, illness, and disability which, when interrogated, don't seem to have moved on much from the 1680s... which is why this answer is definitely going to end up having a part two, on wizarding attitudes to the body.

for now, though, let's look at how the healthcare system is structured.

the structure of the wizarding healthcare system

the two medical institutions we see in canon - st mungo's and the hogwarts hospital wing - are whimsical pastiches of aspects of the british healthcare system: st mungo's is an nhs hospital [hence the reason it seems to be free - although i think it's interesting for authors to imagine that it isn't...] and the hospital wing is a boarding school infirmary.

st mungo's is immediately familiar to anyone who has worked in a hospital - especially characters like this patient from order of the phoenix:

“And that woman over there,” he indicated the only other occupied bed, which was right beside the door, “won’t tell the Healers what bit her, which makes us all think it must have been something she was handling illegally. Whatever it was took a real chunk out of her leg, very nasty smell when they take off the dressings.”

but the structure of the modern hospital - its departments, its staff - is a post-1689 invention, as are the non-hospital spaces [gp's surgeries, dentist's and optometrist's offices, pharmacies] in which healthcare takes place.

and so how might the places in which healing occurs differ from their muggle equivalents?

st mungo's hospital for magical maladies and injuries

like any hospital, st mungo's offers a combination of emergency and specialist treatment. it doesn't seem to offer general healthcare - such as check-ups - and it doesn't seem to offer treatment for minor-to-moderate ailments.

this makes sense given its real-world influences - in the uk, most aspects of most people's everyday healthcare are the purview of a general practitioner, and specialists tend not to be seen outside of specific, often more serious contexts.

[for example, i'm a woman in my thirties who has never had an appointment with a gynaecologist - something which shocks american friends. this is because everything to do with reproductive healthcare that i've had to do in my life so far - such as cervical screening - has been done by my gp's surgery.]

st mungo's also doesn't seem to perform general dental or optometrical services. this is also the case in the uk.

we know from canon that it has wards which treat long-term residents - such as the longbottoms. in muggle britain, this wouldn't exactly be the case - nhs trusts manage certain types of residential treatment [such as psychiatric hospitals, or brain-injury rehabilitation centres], which tend to be on separate sites to hospital buildings, but long-term care homes and assisted-living facilities are managed by private companies or local councils. the wizarding population is evidently too small to have any form of local government, so this becoming the purview of the healthcare system makes sense.

what is more interesting, though, is that st mungo's doesn't seem to treat anything which doesn't have a specifically magical cause...

community care

we see in canon that wizards prefer to treat even fairly serious magical conditions in the home [with the hogwarts hospital wing as the pseudo-domestic stand-in] - in the form of ron's fake spattergroit in deathly hallows.

we can also assume, then, that things like birth and death [as well as the treatment of non-magical conditions] also generally take place in the home - and that this is why st mungo's doesn't seem to offer any sort of obstetric care.

and this will have an impact on how wizards understand things like birth, death, and aging which - while not divergent from the muggle understanding of these things historically - would be massively at odds with the muggle attitude contemporarily. only around 2% of births in the uk take place at home, for example - and since around 43% of deaths take place in a hospital and 20% take place in a care home, it is now a minority experience to die in your own home. multi-generational living is extremely uncommon for british muggles outside of specific demographic groups. it would presumably not be - since gerontological care must take place in the home - for british wizards.

[i am aware of the wizarding care home in the cursed child, but i think we can either ignore this as not-canon, or imagine it working as an almshouse - such as the royal hospital, chelsea, founded in 1682 - the early-modern equivalent of a care home]

similarly, the treatment of chronic illnesses must generally take place in the home - which offers a really interesting insight into why, for example, remus lupin appears so much less healthy than werewolves like fenrir greyback, who live in quasi-familial community groups.

so too must the care of the terminally ill - which means that wizards would retain a relationship with death that muggles are increasingly detached from. i was struck when talking about deathly hallows with some friends that they were surprised that fleur delacour can see thestrals - and they automatically assumed that she must have witnessed some sort of traumatic death for this to be the case. but if her grandmother [who seems, as of goblet of fire, to be dead] went through the process of dying [which is not immediate!] at home, she would probably have been there to witness and understand it. this is an entirely natural part of the human experience.

and this means - as we'll come to in part two - that who doesn't get treated in the home becomes an interesting question...

healers and their training

the stringent academic requirements for healing training in canon are a pastiche of those needed for a medical degree in muggle britain. medicine is an extremely competitive subject [as in many places worldwide, the number of places is capped] and all uk medical schools require top a-level [the final-year exams which newts are a mirror of] grades.

in the wizarding world - since university education doesn't appear to exist - the subject is taught by apprenticeship. this makes sense - all muggle medical degrees have a considerable practical component, and i think we can easily imagine that trainee healers are also required to attend lectures etc.

however, since there doesn't appear to be general medicine in the wizarding world, healers seem to apprentice from the off in specific specialities.

similarly, on their wards, they seem to function as a combination of all the levels of staff you would find in a muggle hospital - a doctor would not, for example, hand out christmas gifts on a ward - and there doesn't seem to be any hierarchy post-qualification. you can only be an apprentice or a healer - instead of a junior, registrar, consultant etc. [or the american near-equivalents - intern, resident, attending etc.]

but all of this makes sense if we consider it alongside the fact that a lot of treatment must take place in the home. healers are - by their very nature - advanced specialists in a specific [and apparently narrow] range of magical illnesses and injuries, who presumably deal with such a small number of patients [arthur weasley is on a ward with only three people, supervised by two healers - i think many of us who've worked in muggle hospitals would kill for that ratio...] that they are able to take the holistic role they do in canon.

other medical staff

and so most aspects of wizarding medicine must be administered by people who are not [by virtue of formal training] healers - both within the home and outside it.

madam pomfrey, for example, seems to have a different, lower level of training than a healer - not least because her title, which she shares with other non-academic staff like madam hooch, is intended to indicate that she is below the hogwarts professors in terms of qualification [however wizards understand this when it comes to fitness to teach]. we see in canon that she needs to send patients to st mungo's for specific magical injuries which she doesn't have the training and/or equipment to treat [mcgonagall after she's stunned in order of the phoenix, katie bell after she's cursed in half-blood prince], but that she's able to treat most magical injuries which are non-life-threatening, and most non-magical injuries and minor illnesses.

in the uk, a school matron would generally be qualified as a nurse - and madam pomfrey reflects this. obviously, this is primarily a narrative detail which helps the [british] reader understand the wizarding world by referencing something with which they are familiar, but from an in-world perspective it suggests that there is a hierarchy of medical training which we don't hear about in canon.

perhaps even because it would be considered beneath the alumni of as elite a boarding school as hogwarts to go into the equivalent of nursing...

[indeed, the apparent absence of credentialism in the presentation of healing being revealed to be a lie would fit the way the series approaches class... and the class distinctions, not only in terms of post-qualification social status, but in terms of background - in 2016, 61% of people studying medicine or dentistry were privately educated - between doctors and nurses in the uk are significant.]

and so i imagine that general medical treatment - as well as more specialised disciplines like midwifery, dentistry, and optometry - is available in the wizarding world [for a fee?] from licensed [anyone offering medical care in england has required a license since the 1520s] community-based practitioners such as madam pomfrey, with people only seeking treatment at st mungo's for urgent magical cases.

there must also be a voluntary aspect to this community-based medical system - i've always assumed that the people who bring arthur weasley to st mungo's are volunteers rather than professional paramedics, for example - and treatment must also be available from shops - such as apothecaries, which can presumably diagnose ailments as well as sell the treatments for them - which provide medical services alongside various other functions.

[maybe the people who make objects such as james and sirius' two-way mirrors are also responsible for lens-crafting and other aspects of optometry.]

this can be a fun worldbuilding detail - historically, surgery [and most dental care] was provided by barbers. clearly, molly doesn't cut her sons' hair at home for financial reasons, but because the one time she let bill go to the barber's on his own, he came back with a gold tooth...

the medical research sector

while the wizarding world doesn't appear to have universities - or other research institutions which look familiar to the modern reader - it clearly has some sort of scientific infrastructure, within which medical and pharmaceutical research [such as the development of the wolfsbane potion in the early 1990s] takes place.

and we can very easily imagine what this infrastructure is...

the statute of secrecy is signed after the emergence in britain of learned societies - essentially, research organisations, which are modelled on the college fellowships of oxford and cambridge [with a little bit of the medieval guild thrown in]. they function as academic networks, peer-review groups, and professional bodies.

in the medical field, the royal college of physicians - which is still going! i'm a member! - was founded in 1519. in the natural sciences more generally, the royal society - probably the most famous learned society in the world - was officially established in 1663.

we know of at least one wizarding learned society from canon - the most extraordinary society of potioneers, founded by hector dagworth-granger - and we know that there are academic journals - such as transfiguration today - which can be presumed to be published by others.

it makes absolute sense that there would be a learned society which focused on the science of healing, and offered publications, lectures, demonstrations [imagine how horrendous the first demonstration of the wolfsbane potion might have been...], research funding, and so on to professionals working in the discipline. it also makes sense that there would be a college or guild for apothecaries.

the real question, though, is what these would be called... after all, the wizarding world tends to have a touch of whimsy to it, but since there's literally a clinical body in the uk called "nice", the muggles might have won this round...

[kkkest]

It was an early summer night. Li Jing and her boyfriend were riding motorcycles in the city when suddenly an out-of-control car hit them. The huge impact made Li Jing faint. When she woke up, she found herself lying on a hospital bed with her left leg amputated by hip dislocation (a very high amputation operation, her left leg was removed from the thigh root). What made her even more heartbroken was that her boyfriend could not accept her disability and chose to leave. Li Jing faced the physical and mental trauma alone, feeling extremely lonely and desperate. Despite this, Li Jing still loves beauty and still maintains her elegance. She wore a red dress with exquisite lace decorations, white stockings on her legs, and a pair of black high heels on her feet. Sitting in a wheelchair, she still showed a strong beauty. Although life has changed her body, she still insists on being herself, elegant and calm.