#if not then the person dies or gets surgery to remove it (which can lead to memory loss of that person or never feeling love again...whatev

[femme-malewife]

I came up with the absolute worst idea for a cactiflower fic

[morallygreyyn]

Hey!! Could you do some hcs for the hxh boys having hanahaki disease for the reader? You can decide whether they get a happy end where they confess and the reader realizes feelings for them or no :p

hanahaki disease with the hxh boys (hisoka, kurapika, illumi headcanons)

authors note: omgggg i've always been obsessed with this myth but i completely forgot about it until you reminded me anon! i'm so happy i got a request for this! i chose happy endings bc who doesn't want a happy ending with our favourite boys?

the surgery to remove the disease doesn’t exist in these headcanons bc i couldn’t be arsed to write about it

live or die by the disease bitch there is no other option

warnings: mentions of death, blood

read part two here!

requests are open!

hisoka had known you for a long time

you were close confidants, and dare i say it, best friends

he admired your strength, how you never failed to join in on his chaos, and fire back at him whenever he made a quip

with how well you two got along, it was only a matter of time before he coughed up the first petal

he knew immediately what was happening, he was a man cultured in myths and legends after all

he was more shocked at the realisation that he loved you more than the fact that he just coughed up a flower petal

and you didn't love him back

he couldn't blame you, even though you liked to fool around with each other, you had never been serious with your flings and it was strictly no strings attached

well now it was apparent that there were strings

the magician couldn't pinpoint the moment he had fallen for you, he supposed it was a gradual thing

but one thing was for absolute certain, he was in love

and he was dying because of it

hisoka is a man of mystery and many secrets but this...

this he would probably tell you about after a while of mulling it over

during this period, his coughing got worse until eventually he couldn't take it anymore

he would go straight to you, letting himself into your house as he usually did

hisoka could feel the pain in his lungs when you looked at him and smiled

he would suppress the coughs as best as he could while he figured out a way to tell you

i feel like his confession would go one of two ways

either he would be outright and serious for once

or he'd make a performance out of his dying body

let's explore the serious option first

you, having caught onto the fact that something was very wrong, took your friend’s hand which only made his coughing worse. "what's going on hisoka? you never get sick."

he laughed dryly. "it would appear that I'm in love with you."

you didn't believe him of course. "you're joking."

hisoka coughs into his hand, revealing petals tainted with blood. "does this look like a joke to you?"

OR the performance option

"it would appear I'm in love with you." he coughed into his hand and threw the contents in the air, several flower petals soaked in blood rained down on your head. "surprise."

it doesn't matter which option he chooses, you're still frozen in shock

"i thought it was just a myth." you stared at the bloody petals in horror

"me too."

the room fell silent, hisoka wondering what his fate would be based on your response

i can’t see him as a person who cares whether he lives or whether he dies

i can see him just sitting there on your couch, staring with bored fascination at your living room while he waited for you to drop the guillotine over his head

his lungs and throat were writhing in pain, but hisoka was never one to be put off by this

what he didn’t expect was for you to then turn to him, grinning

“i love you too.”

his face drops

“yeah, i love you too hisoka.”

hisoka would’ve been amused by how quickly the weight on his chest dissipated if it weren’t for his shock

however it didn’t take long from him to recover from this and he swoops you into an embrace

which of course leads to more

and oh boy hisoka was never happier to be alive

would 100% not tell you

the second the first petal fell from his lips, he knew immediately that it was you

he also knew that he could never tell you

you didn’t love him back and he didn’t want to make you feel bad about that fact

how could he not love you though? you were his biggest source of joy and the one he cared for most in this world

his would hide the disease from you for as long as possible, smothering his coughs with great effort

the longer he did this, the worse it got

he knew he was going to die and he accepted that fact

he didn’t want to die, but he knew he could never tell you 

kurapika would try and avoid you towards the end

dodging your calls and skipping on meeting up with you until eventually he stopped contact altogether

you, extremely worried about your friend, went to go visit him unannounced

letting yourself inside, your heart dropped in horror at seeing him 

kurapika looked like a ghost

his face was hollow, lips chapped and stained red

he would insist he was fine, even though he clearly he wasn’t

eventually he wouldn’t be able to hide it anymore, launching into an extreme coughing fit, him throwing up petals, whole flowers and blood 

having heard of the disease before, you could only ask who he loved and who didn’t love him back

this time, he looked you directly in the eyes. “you.”

cue your shock and horror

kurapika had to avert his gaze, he didn’t want to see your disappointment in his final moments

he hated himself enough for having these feelings but he didn’t want to see you hate him too

his lungs were more branches and flowers than tissue at this point

the kurta was just about to get up and leave when your voice stopped him

“wait.”

he waits

“you have this disease because you love me and you think it’s unrequited, correct?”

“yes.” he didn’t want to add that he didn’t just think it was unrequited

“what if it wasn’t unrequited?”

“then i wouldn’t be dying.”

“then i don’t understand.” you shook your head, suppressing a smile. “because i love you too.”

he stops

kurapika literally stops working

his brain shuts down and his body comes to a complete standstill and he just stares at you in shock

you feel the need to confirm it for him. “i love you too kurapika.”

he couldn’t hold himself back anymore

regardless of his sick body, he rushes to you and pulls you into the tightest hug

his chest clears, feeling light and unrestrained

he kisses you and kurapika can finally breathe again

this boy is so damn confused when coughs, and then even more confused when he sees a petal in his hand

what on earth is happening to him?

doesn’t even realise he’s in love

it takes him a couple of days and a couple more instances of coughing up flowers for him to realise something was wrong with him

a quick internet search yields the results he was looking for 

cue more confusion

unrequited love was the cause?

would think long and hard about who in his life he could have these impossible feelings for

then his thoughts eventually arrived on you

and when they did, he couldn’t stop thinking about you

so he loved you? why? what was the reason? when did this happen?

many many questions were circulating through that beautiful head of his

reading further about the disease, he realised that the disease would only go away if you loved him too

if not, he would die

not one to be scared by death, he decided on not telling you

why would he? it was pointless anyway if he was going to die

doesn’t even consider the chance that you might love him back

takes the unrequited part as fact and sticks with it

illumi is a tough boy so it takes ages for him to finally be run down by the disease

is a master at hiding his coughs

he has a reputation to uphold after all

he even keeps it from his family, determined to take his shame to his grave

would honestly have to be on the brink of dying for him to show that he’s suffering with the hanahaki disease

luckily you like to meet up with illumi very frequently and you had become quite attuine to his stoic attitude and personality

to the point where you could pick up the most minuscule of differences in his behaviour

it didn’t take you long to realise something was wrong with your friend but no matter how hard you pushed, he would shoot you down

cue you becoming the best investigator the world has ever seen

it started when, after illumi had left the bar, there was a single bloodied petal sitting in his place

you took the petal back home and began researching

it took you a while but you eventually found out about the hanahaki disease though you couldn’t believe that this was what illumi was struggling with so you kept searching

however your search was in vein and all you had to go on was a myth about unrequited love

so the next time you met up with illumi, you kept an even closer eye on him

watching the subtle ways in which he would suppress what would normally be very painful coughs

the way his lips seemed a bit more chapped and red than normal

the way his already pale skin became more translucent

you had to face the facts, illumi was suffering with unrequited love

and it was killing him

you couldn’t bear the thought of losing illumi

but who on earth was he in love with? and how could you convince them to save his life?

realistically you knew there wasn’t much you could do

but out of desperation, you confronted him about it

“when were you going to tell me about your hanahaki disease?”

“i wasn’t.”

“have you told anyone?”

“no.”

you weren’t one to be easily frustrated, but for some reason you couldn’t watch him throw away his life so easily

in a fit of despair, you blurted. “please find some way to fix it, i can’t bear the thought of losing you.”

“why?”

you didn’t think about your words before you said them. “because i love you.”

he froze

you kept going, putting your own feelings to the side in an effort to save the man stock-still before you. “and it’s because i love you that i’m scared of you dying, so please just find whoever it is and confess to them. i’m sure they like you back if they’ve got the great illumi zoldyck dying for them.”

it was then that you noticed his expression

you would almost say he looked relieved? but surely you had seen wrong

it was illumi after all

“ah, it’s gone now.” he somehow sounded much better than a couple of minutes ago

“gone? how can it be gone whe-” it didn’t take you long for you to realise what had happened

illumi looked at you expectantly

“you love me?” you asked in a small voice, afraid that this was a bad joke even though you knew illumi was practically incapable of making them

“evidently.”

needless to say that that was the start of a wonderful relationship that even illumi couldn’t have imagined happening

but he wasn’t complaining

not in the slightest

[transingthoseformers]

Had to read back through, but I now have a rough timeline. The flashback scenes won't be in chronological order and also I forgot they went from Overlord to Tyrest in like five days.

TIMELINE OF EVENTS

Transformers: More Than Meets the Eyes # 17

Rewind dies and provides his final message.

Chromedome can’t stand it though and does the surgery. But he messes up, damaging himself. His mind starts melding with “leftover” from the last mind he was inside of, Overlord.

He is sent to the Medbay and truly damaged himself. The first person he attacks is Ambulon because he’s desperate and clumsy, targeting the closest he can find to feelings, scrapping over his admiration for Pharma before coming to his senses horrified. He alters Ambulon’s memories and then he rushes out. He thinks its injuries from being inside Overlord too long and tries to resist, but talks himself into it.

He is desperate for a cure for his depression (boredom) and searching out happiness/love (entertainment). This leads him to starting with the Decepticons in the brig. It’s familiar. Like the Institute (Garrus-9) all over again.

He hunts them at night to cover for himself (stir up and play on their fears). When he has sucked them dry, he can’t get anymore out of them and can’t get caught, stabilizing after clumsily touching them. He needs to be more careful (discerning of superior prey).

He also takes advantage of Red Alert’s vulnerability first to raid his mind since he’s an easy target and gets the codes, something Chromedome assures himself is just so he can be more careful. He won’t touch anymore of the crew.

Transformers: More Than Meets The Eyes # 18-21

Ambulon doesn’t recognize Pharma, which they think must be trauma from the head injuries, but Pharma looks and laughs realizing Ratchet doesn’t know. He preens over it. Pharma had known Trepan and Sunder. He knew mnemosurgery. Even cases where it wasn’t through the brain module. This soothes him, because it is clear Ratchet has no idea.

Ambulon doesn’t call him Dr. DJD and lives.

Pharma is taken prisoner and subject to the same victimhood as the Cons, though Chromedome is more careful initially and devours Pharma’s obsessive regard about Ratchet and how deeply he clung to him, slowly unraveling every bit of him can and soothing over the dark memories with Tarn (relishing them unconsciously). He makes it look more likely a natural corruption and ties the memories together, letting the processor blend things together after only slightly nudged in semblance that covers evidence of mnemosurgery. Not the hack job that was his desperate feeding on Ambulon and patchwork over Cons.

He comforts himself that Pharma isn’t a real Autobot but a traitor after all.

Memory 2b occurs. Sunstreaker and Nautilator.

People are having nightmares, but with the increased scrutiny of the brig Chromedome can’t hunt freely leading him to target others. Sunstreaker is obvious because he is almost always alone except for Bob and doesn’t have a roommate. Once Sunstreaker ups his own defenses, Chromedome starts targeting other bots who are more likely to be alone or isolated, such as Rodimus (who burns him).

This careful delicate hunting (just tasting Chromedome assures himself as he can’t hunt the Decepticons with the guards now there) is carefully maintaining him but only making him hunger for more.

Vote to keep Rodimus as Captain

Memory 1b occurs. Ultra Magnus and Rodimus.

Things have to break though and Brainstorm, who is suspicious, catches him hunting Tailgate and realizes what is going on. He confronts him and Chromedome attacks, “drinking his fill” when he doesn't just “taste” Brainstorm’s memories but devours them, slowly stitching on the way out to prevent damage. This removes Quark and a whole lot more.

Perceptor finds Brainstorm and takes him to the Medbay. Everyone becomes convinced it was an experiment especially since they find Brainstorm with research on the information creep. Brainstorm and Perceptor start investigating the briefcase.

Sunstreaker is on the hunt for other victims and ends up meeting Amblon while looking into it and finds out he also suspects something because of Pharma, who he has taken to mentoring. Ratchet and the others confirmed his own memories simply had their storage damaged on Luna-1 and will return on their own time, but Ambulon is suspicious. Sunstreaker reads him in on it and thinks he’d get mocked for his concept of it being a monster, but Ambulon accepts it nonchalant, claiming it would fit in with the rest of this ridiculous journey which makes Sunstreaker snort.

Things are getting worse with people acting oddly.

Ratchet’s personality change which only Rodimus, who has been stuck in depression mode for weeks, notices.

Tailgate’s memory issues which they assign to age and his recovering Spark.

Brainstorm personality change fallout.

People are getting tenser and angstier as emotions become unstable.

Getaway is also target but manages to rip out needles that look like mnemosurgery needles. They compare them to Chromedome and confirm they are different, not in any database. That's because Overlord was trained by Trepan to make mnemosurgery needles unlike Chromedome so he fabricated a different set.

Chromedome and the leftover from Overlord and others he's injected into start to meld together more making him more unstable and frantic. Everyone assumes that Chromedome is being similarly affected by the emotional instability plaguing the entire ship.

Rung is attacked and is left shaken by the whole events and temporarily forgets his name is Rung. He has odd older dreams. And without thinking it automatically corrects First Aid that his manufacturing number is 1 not 1 million and then when the both pause is perplexed by this. But feels it is correct. He is feeling much, much older and remembering things like speaking dead languages, having brothers, a war, and when Ratchet examines him he's surprised by more processor activity and older files that had long been archived and degraded (information creep) clearing up and being re-established.

The Sunstreaker Investigation Bureau gets Nightbeat involved and he is very inappropriately excited. They realize that Sunstreaker is right and he looks deeper into it, getting people like Mirage and Skids involved. Skids taught himself in depth coding once and finds that hidden within the date there have been alterations and entrances into multiple people's rooms not just Sunstreaker's and all of them use Red Alert’s ID and authority.

They contact Red Alert and he confirms that sometimes during his time in "stasis" at the very end he'd feel awake enough to have nightmares of something inside him.

They bring their findings to Rodimus and the other command officers and show the example and a pattern of the "health issues" being related to the same cause. This is then investigated because Rodimus brings up he thinks people have lost memories and cites Ratchet leading to the Drift recollection. And Rodimus speedrunning the Ratchet was in love with Drift realization which he announces to the room at large.

Pharma, who has been semi-mentored by Ambulon and a reluctant First Aid (Ratchet doesn’t interact with him) at this point, helps with the investigation, eager to prove himself even if it means doing something dangerous. He argues passionately that the symptoms do not actually match those of isolation and other degrading and he'd looked at his own good and while it is masterfully done doesn’t actually resemble trauma induced info dumping and deletion 100%. There's some back and forth between Ratchet and him but he takes a breathe and listens when Ambulon backs Pharma up. Though Pharma does get scolded for looking at his own coding and messing with it without back up available in case anything went wrong and no Bob is not adequate backup.

Bob makes an offended chirp at this. While Pharma huffs slightly and First Aid feels weird about being the responsible adult scolding his former boss who is pouting about dangerous experimental treatments. Pharma insists that fine they may have a point but that the results mirror mnemosurgery and shadowplay. A very good mnemosurgeon truthfully. Each one has their own signature and part of the reason it isn't looking like it traditionally is they aren't going through the usual points. Pharma is getting excited about his explanation on sheer joynof solving the mystery, Nightbeat at least is rapt, and flashes his Spark showing minute scars that are nigh undeniable in between plating and then gets Ambulon to help remove lower back plating showing other similar scaring in his spinal cord.

They examine the others and find similar, more sloppy damage hidden between scarring left from Luna-1 on Ambulon, some on Ratchet and Sunstreaker, none on First Aid and wuickly run through others finding evidence now that they know where to look. Pharma had been focusing on remembering and finally does running into a staff meeting excitedly saying he found it out. He remembers Trepan and Trepan's exceptional apprentice. That's why it looks familiar. Trepan was very proud of his successor and showed Pharma his signature, which is different from the needle imprints. Trepan's apprentice thought like a cop so his patterns resembled Iaconian Enforcer Grid Search Patterns. Pharma, beaming says the apprentice's name was Tumbler.

Meanwhile, Chromedome is alone with Ultra Magnus investigating something and the alert goes out with Rodimus frantically calling him. Chromedome lunges and due to the Magnus armor can’t reach Minimus but does manage to trap him inside unable to react or escape but able to watch.

Then Chromedome uses Red Alert’s codes to shutdown the ship. Then when he starts talking he refers to himself as "we" and talks and references things that genuinely don't make sense to Ultra Magnus because it is Overlord’s shade and others that Chromedome was asked to look into: the dead and the killers who are clambering together in his brain.

Eventually Ultra Magnus is found and Rung identifies it as mind blending which is another danger to mnemosurgeons. They normally have lingering data portioned off in their processor as temporary files until it can be deleted. Whatever Chromedome did to delete his memories of Rewind instead broke that barrier so now Chromedome isn't strictly Chromedome.

Cue horror move sequence of Chromedome hunting the crew and activating various triggers left in them to make them helpless.

Eventually he is captured by someone broadcasting Rewind's last message and voice through the ship which makes Chromedome freeze up and go unsteady, starting to glitch out because he has been degrading this whole time. He says Rewind looks around him clear headed for the first time in a while and injects in himself to "turn himself off".

They ask if it is curable and Rung admits he knows only a minimal amount and another mnemosurgeon would genuinely be their best bet. The crew votes and decides to keep Chromedome and find the Knights and hopefully a cure or another mnemosurgeon.

Ratchet makes the decision to go find Drift runs off without everyone and the Lost Light goes after him because wtf Ratchet, plus Rodimus has been lingering on regrets and thinking of reaching out himself. Ratchet finds Drift and Drift upon realizing what happens drags him back.

Ratchet is the one pursuing and showing up to Drift every time now to figure out what happened, or rather didn't, between them and they fall in love. Drift decides to stay Neutral and Rodimus introduces him to the Con and now Neutral or Autobots from the brig.

Dark Cybertron

Megatron joins the ship.

They find Rewind.

Elegant Chaos doesn’t quite occur the same because Brainstorm doesn't remember why he needed it or what he wanted to pursue. Instead it is Rewind who is much worse because he won't hesitate to shoot a newborn. Rewind did go to the Alyon Fields because he was going to shoot baby Tarn as well because he remembers who tortured his Chromedome too.

Brainstorm reluctantly gives up his "secret brainchild" he has been constructing a frame for in secret to make his own mentee once he find a Spark hidden in his chest. Megayron is still born while Brianstorm sulks at him until he is gifted with another Spark by Cyclonus. He accidentally purrloin one of the Sparks from the fields when they did an emergency jump after saving Damus, who references the events during the Confrontation, which delights Brainstorm and they stick it in the Protoform resulting in the abandoned Lost Light Baby storyline.

Confrontation with DJD is different: Skids doesn't die because Chromedome triggered his memories earlier, the Pet is just with them because once he saw Rewind and Minimus he clung to them and they were able to identify him as Dominus, Pharma nearly has a lot of panic over Tarn.

The Mutiny doesn't occur so the DJD Confrontation doesn't go like Canon.

Once they get to the "end of the map" there's a huge argument about mayne euthanizing Megatron after all. Once they reunite and save the universe and are sort of hovering above the planet. Going through a reunion.

Chromedome is able to be "fixed" though as is Dominus somewhat. He has memory issues though and has to deal with leftover pieces of others. He doesn't remember-remember Rewind but he knows him and they start courting again. Slowly.

More emotional relations have other scenes not mentioned and having a different idea for handling the Funtionalist Universe, basically how Ravage and others get yeeted into it, resulting in alternate timeline there as well and, ironically, a DJD redemption arc off screen because the timecase explodes with Ravage and the DJD caught in it resulting in them being there. And Cat Dad dont track with nonsense.

So they are saved by the DJD arriving instead of Megatron, having helped with a somewhat peaceful revolution in another timestream. That, however, will be a different story since this one focuses on Chromedome's Antagonist Arc and recovery.

Fr the Overlord Incident and Tyrest incident were back to back like that

Interesting bit on the Overlord bits still being in Chromedome's processor because that sort of tracks with what we know of mnemosurgery. No matter what, no matter how safe and orderly they try to make it, the very process of connecting with someone's mind like that is inherently dangerous for both parties. I imagine for mnemosurgeons, it's a lot like how radiologists have to step out of the room because otherwise they'd be getting an x-ray EVERY time their patient gets one and that's bad for them— except the mnemosurgeons can't "step out of the room". CD mentions more than once that mnemosurgeons die young, it's addictive, and it's a whole thing that there will be a last injection.

So, yeah. Makes sense Chromedome lost his shit. Also because he was in Overlord's mind pretty deep for pretty long.

He won't touch any more of the crew

We know where that leads

OOOO ON PHARMA HAVING KNOWN TREPAN ABD SUNDER. I think it makes sense that mecha have experimented with mnemosurgery away from the average mold. After all, Sunder does it primarily remotely, and we see with Megatron Trepan prefers to do it directly through the brain module. Chromedome also says rather early on he prefers to go through the eye sockets with corpses. There are probably so many New Institute experiments with the mnemosurgeons being both the experimenter and the experiment. Pharma can see the signs.

damnnn so he's getting more methodical and falling into a rhythm

fucker is a joy (among other emotions) vampire, but in the same way a mosquito does with all the metaphorical anticoagulant skeeter spit: messy and with unforseen consequences

MMN YES I'M SEEING SIMILARITIES BETWEEN DOMEY AND SUNDER'S TERMINOLOGY NOW

ooooo interesting that Chromedome has a separate set of needles for "hunting"

It must be so fascinating to see this epidemic of memory loss and Rung pull up with the opposite

Sunny is absolutely on the money for involving Nightbeat, and dammnn involving Skids and Mirage into this is such more a good idea.

Rodimus yes

ohh pharma oh no. Yes.

Sdfhjko ah yes casually flashing his spark. I'm fairly sure even in canon that's got meaning.

Mmhm they're getting closer and closer, and this is when I remember mnemosurgery scars are awful. Just... In general.

Yep yep, it's Tumbler all right. Now known as Chromedome😁

oh Chromedome

Yep yep, something got fucked up and caused Chromedome to flip absolute shit.

OWO on the horror movie scene idea

yep yep, oh Domey.

OOOO ON IT BEING REWIND 2.0 GOING THROUGH TIME WITH HIS OWN DAMN LIST. Dude's got his own trauma that's just. Yeah. Jesus fuck Rewind 2.0 must have opinions about finding out what happened with Chromedome 1.0.

Ooo interesting interesting

Interesting that it's the DJD stuff that's different, for several reasons.

Okay fr this is cool as all fuck, so many interesting changes and interesting parallels

[ihazmunchies91]

I give up. I need to tell You all something. Maybe someone can help me.

WARNING TRIGGERS:

Back in August or September, I moved into my aunts home to escape a situation where I couldn't afford where I lived and I realized that she was a hoarder because she was collecting garbage and there were garbage bags all over the house and the house was a complete mess and it looked like an episode of hoarders.

Knowing how much I cared for my aunt, I had the community come and take the garbage away, and I hired a maid to help my aunt get her house clean and back to the way it was, however, my aunt's health began to decline mentally, she refused to take care of herself and bathe herself, and no matter what I did, either by buying her a bath room chair that supported her weight, or getting the shower set up and asking to help her bathe, she refused and let herself sit in a chair and not shower for 2 months.

I called senior service and disability, but they refused to help her because my aunt doesn't have a Medicare plan, even though she is retired, and at the age of 67. "She has too many assets." They said. so I was left to suffer and watch her suffer as well.

Eventually My aunt almost died from a bladder infection, which lead to a kidney infection. which then went to her lungs, and she collapsed, and couldn't breathe anymore. And so she was put on life support with an intubator in her lungs.

My uncle who is a complete ass didnt seem to fully realize how serious the situation was and I was afraid because in 2011, my mother DIED of the exact same illness but they didnt have the medical tech to save her back then so I was reliving my worst nightmare. Just like my mother, she refused my help and ignored my pleas to seek help and she almost died.

After I conscented to them performing surgery on her kidney to flush out a kidney stone that was creating sepsis in her body, she was recovering miraculously, and then they asked to consent a second time to put a central line into her neck, so they could get medications into her faster. I consented it to that as well, and she recovered even faster. Meanwhile, my uncle did absolutely nothing to help in the situation.

My uncle does not like me because I am bisexual, disabled and live on Social Security and can not work as of yet because of my mental and bodily issues. He sees me as a person who is mentally ill, a perversion of nature and cannot take care of myself or needs to be put in an asylum.

Miraculously, my aunt woke up over 14 days? later and they removed the intubator from her after her cuffleak test told the doctors she was ready to breathe on her own and her throat was no longer swollen around the intubator, and I was there for most of the time holding her hand and making sure that she was ok and felt safe.

During all this time, I was absolutely certain that my aunt was not going to make it and I would relive the most horrifying experience of my life all over again.

Eventually my aunt made it to a nursing facility, and she was doing quite well, and I would visit her and tell her, I love her every single day and I was astounded that she recovered so quickly. I would bring her comfortable clothes she needed, a book, some hidden snacks when she was bored (I'm terrible I know)

However, during this time, my uncle opted to take me to see her frequently instead of her friend Jerry. and we hardly spoke to each other. I knew he didn't like me because of how he spoke to me, I never understood why he treated me so poorly when he knew me growing up. Being bisexual doesn't change you as a person.

Eventually, just a couple of days ago, my aunt suddenly informed me that I cannot have my companion animals in the home, and I was devastated. She said it was due to her health however her doctors did not say anything whatsoever that the cats would be of great harm to her and they don't cause any issues. she knows how much I can not be without my companion animals. I have legal documentation from my doctor explaining that they're my therapy animals, and I can not be without them because they help me daily with emotional support. However, my aunt strangely and coldly told me that it was not up to me but to her, because she is the owner of the house, and I began to cry, and I called my case manager, who was flabbergasted by the entire situation that my aunt would say such a thing knowing that my companions mean more to me than the world itself as I raised them from kittens. They are my children. As I cried in the nursing home in the room with my aunt, she proceeded to talk to my uncle and my uncle talk to her as though I did not exist, and I was a ghost, yet tears were streaming down my face and I was dripping snot into my mask. eventually my uncle called my case manager, and then my case manager called me to inform me of some disturbing things.

My uncle had sent pictures to my case manager showing previous messes and parts of the house that cannot be repaired from my aunts hoarding that was still yet to be fixed such as: The stained dirty carpet, the broke tiolets seats, old rusted silverware and pots and pans my aunt refused to throw away, piles of paid bills she refused to shred or throw away.

Luckily, thank fucking god my manager already knew of the conditions my aunt was in and informed him (Despite her not wanting to speak under hippa law) that none of that mess was mine and that his sister had hoarding issues that I had helped take care of. But there was still remnants of the past. I had also heard my uncle snapping pictures in the kitchen when I was bawling my eyes out in the bathroom. (He was checking on my aunts car to make sure it was still working because thats what my aunt requested.)

My uncle then began to argue theres no way that was from my aunt and My case manager did not hold back and told him none of that was mine and it's been well documented about what had happened. My uncle then backpedaled and said that I need to move out NOW because of the ridiculous obsession with my cats. And my case manager informed him that I have a right to 30 days because I paid rent to my aunt out of curtesy and he was enraged and snapping at her saying it doesn't matter and I don't care about my aunt.

My aunt is being influenced and poisoned by my uncle, and I have no where to go. I refuse to go into a group home because I was abused in one horrible when I was younger and I refuse to do adult foster care. I live on social security and could afford low income. I refuse to go into a shelter because they do not take companion animals and I would honestly, brutally honestly say that I would not be able to be without them and would off myself at moments notice if they were taken from me.

I tried to see if my brother and sister would take me in, but it turns out they are addicts living in a home with no heat, phone or internet to connect to the outside world. And I'm afraid because I need to see a doctor because of an alarming mass on my breast. But there is no transport, no doctor able to see me because of lack of doctors. I don't know why this is happening to me. I don't know what god is trying to punish me for something I didn't do.

I need HELP. But I don't know where to fucking go or really WHAT THE FUCK TO DO and I'm dying inside painfully. I live in Oregon, in Polk county if that helps. I have a paypal if you want it. But I don't know what I would do with the money to begin with. I'm at a fucking loss. I have never been taught how to drive a car so I don't own one, I'm autistic, sickly and just want to get out of here and not upset my aunt and make her sicker somehow. I have my three cats and a dog in training to becoming a service animal for my panic attacks. All have written notes from my doctor from years ago.

[bloodanddiscoballs]

re conch shell tags: sorry you died? on an operating table?

oh haha yeah I broke my back my senior year of high school and had my first major back surgery 2 weeks after my graduation. the plan was to go in from the front and the back and place a metal framework around my lower spine which included a pelvic rod, and to remove the cartilage discs between my actual spine and replace those with bone which is called spinal fusion. I had two anterior (front) screws drilled into my spine to keep the cadaver bone they used as my fusion in place. well they ended up accidentally cutting my aortic artery and my spinal cord and I lost my entire blood volume. I died but not for very long (this they had to document due to taking from the blood bank) so there was that fuck up and then it also turned out that the doc who did the implementation of my metal for that first surgery didn't actually have training to use the robot to put in that metal so he put it in wrong and set my spine at a wildly incorrect angle and thus I ended up stripping the metal from my spine and fractured the fusion (his not having this training was not documented nor was the cut to my spinal cord which introduced viral meningitis to my spinal fluid which basically just means that now if I get sick in general the viral load woll shut down my autonomic nervous system and I have the risk of going into a coma which happened to me in 2014 thus leading to this discovery)

again let me reiterate: all of this was not fully documented and it took other surgeries (by my surgeon who did 4 of my 6 surgeries with one of them being at the MAYO Clinic) to get the whole picture of what they did to me as he did his own investigation.

long story short I'm disabled as a result of medical malpractice and I'm currently 6 spinal surgeries in, I've relearned to walk 4 times now, and my back currently looks like this:

I'm solid bone from L3 down and my pelvis is also fused completely so there's some lose of range of motion. This is also why I deal with 24/7 chronic pain!

Ah but yes I straight up don't have a fear response anymore. I used to be a very very fearful person but I just do not feel it anymore. Also, I know that I can do hard things cause hey nothing can be as horrible as waking up after that first surgery. I'm here and happy babey I may not be healthy but I'm not dead!

[quickhacked]

summary >> vincent has successfully gotten rid of johnny silverhand; with only six months left to live, he has limited time to figure out what is wrong, and- most importantly- how to stop himself from dying warnings >> brainwashing, death mention, injury mention, surgery mention

Vincent and Vitali have successfully left Night City and travel to Tucson, Arizona, to meet up with the Aldecaldos (and Judy) there and hopefully find a cure to Vincent's condition. Mikhail stays behind in the meantime and takes over Vitali's work as a fixer until his return.

After a series of tests and surgeries (including, but not limited to: installing cyberware in some of his organs as preventive measure, surgery to get a remaining bullet shard out of his head) they are still unsuccessful in figuring out what's wrong; unlike what was implied at earlier stages, his body seems fine, and doctors think there might still be something going wrong in his brain (possible lingering effects from the Relic).

Almost two months after leaving Night City, Vincent and Vitali are forced to return, knowing their only option left is probably Arasaka; Panam and Judy return with them (Saul is still alive and stays behind in Arizona with the rest of the Aldecaldos).

Arasaka is at this point still in the process of reorganizing. Yorinobu has temporarily abandoned the Relic Program and is instead working on something new, which should put Arasaka back onto the big stage with the other megacorporations.

This new program makes use of the secret additional features of the Secure Your Soul Program; data extraction, data copying, and personality modification. Arasaka can use this technology to "edit" living people; adjust their personalities, give them new traits or skills, and so on.

Yorinobu believes they can commercialize the technology by disguising it as a product that quickly teaches you a new skill, or is capable of "removing trauma" (memories) and stuff like that. However, the technology can also be used by Arasaka itself to quite literally brainwash people and turn them into soldiers.

The technology is still highly unstable, with complications such as: shifts in personality from messing with test subjects' personality traits, physical injuries to the test subjects because their bodies are being pushed over their limits through the addition of new skills, and the unsuccessful complete removal of undesired traits and memories (they're merely locked behind a firewall, and the test subjects could easily reacquire them).

Arasaka is in the midst of testing this new technology when Vincent and Vitali return to Night City. Their current (named) test subjects are Adam Smasher (undesirable trait removal), Hanako Arasaka (altering traits and skills), and Rogue Amendiares (memory wiping). All of these test subjects supposedly died when Vincent and his friends went to look for Mikoshi; however, none of them actually did.

When Vincent and Vitali come back, they waste no time and begin searching for a cure for Vincent. This mostly includes doing research into things Arasaka has been working on, attacking facilities, interrogating assets, and so on.

At some point, one of their attacks on a facility to gather data goes severely wrong; Vitali is shot in the chest and his heart momentarily stops beating, leading his friends to believe he's dead. Given the circumstances, they're forced to leave his body behind, and he is immediately found and successfully reanimated by Arasaka forces.

Vitali undergoes a similar process as Arasaka's other test subjects, and is turned into another one of their brainwashed/fine-tuned soldiers. The new division is led by a brainwashed Hanako, and their first mission is to neutralize Vincent and his friends.

Upon first seeing Vitali again, the others do not immediately realize he's been brainwashed because they are unaware of the concept at this point. Mikhail tries to talk to him, believing Vitali willingly joined Arasaka out of anger for being left behind, and Vitali stabs him in the chest with one of his mantis blades.

Time passes, and Vincent now has to focus on finding a cure as well as dealing with the brainwashed soldiers. His condition is worsening fast now, and now that his boyfriend is controlled by Arasaka he has little hope for the future.

Rogue snaps out of the brainwashing pretty soon, since the technology is still unstable. She manages to escape and joins Vincent and the rest of the gang, wanting to help take down Yorinobu once and for all.

She also manages to give Vincent a lead on a possible cure; the new Arasaka program uses Soulkiller as a base, which means there's still the high risk of its test subjects dying. To combat this, Arasaka has developed a stabilizer, which prevents the test subjects from dying; considering it's most likely the remnants of Soulkiller slowly killing Vincent, taking the stabilizer should instantly stop that process from happening.

With almost no time left, Vincent and his friends launch another attack on the tower, their goal to get Vitali and Hanako out of there and hopefully figure out something about the location of the stabilizer. Vitali has at this point snapped out of the brainwashing as well; he's been pretending to still be brainwashed, though, in order to get information from Arasaka without being noticed.

When the attack happens, Vitali saves Mikhail from being killed by Smasher; then, he assists the gang with getting Hanako, and they leave the tower without any losses.

Vitali has figured out the location of the lab that worked on the stabilizer and with only a couple of days left, they have to hurry to get their hands on it. Vincent's condition has worsened to the point he can barely walk, but he joins them to the location anyway; they manage to find the stabilizer and give it to him, and by the looks of it probably just in time as well.

Some time passes in which Vincent recovers at Viktor's shop. Vitali and Mikhail spend this time getting Vitali's business back on the right track; his sudden departure caused a lot of clients and mercs to become upset and leave, and he has to fix his reputation.

Hanako remains in their care and protection as well as she slowly sheds the effects of the brainwashing; once she's back on her feet, they can use the horrible technology to get Yorinobu out of his position and instead put Hanako there (the lesser of two evils, for the time being).

All seems okay for the moment, and after a successful recovery Vincent returns home. He moves in with Vitali in his penthouse in Wellsprings, and Mikhail soon moves in with them as well.

However, they soon enough learn once again that trouble in Night City never sleeps; and they're going to have to deal with the consequences.

[kaijutegu]

that plume ad just makes me so mad. it’s not fair. it’s not fair to use the hopes and dreams of so many amab women to sell hormones by using a line that promises the impossible. transplanting an organ into anatomy that doesn’t have the hookups… that kills people. there has been one uterine transplant into an amab woman, and it killed her. is that what plume wants? more dead amab women? in the nearly ninety years since lili elbe died from her body rejecting transplanted uterus, no other doctor has been willing to even attempt the surgery. not because they’re transphobic or because they’re performing medical gatekeeping, but because the hippocratic oath says “first do no harm” and this surgery will likely kill anyone who doesn’t have the anatomy for it… and if the organ somehow, miraculously doesn’t go necrotic to do not having the vascular support it needs (no, seriously, blood vessels leading to a typical uterus are nearly 2mm wider in diameter than the analogous vessels in other bodies, which is a vast gulf when you’re talking about something as tiny as a blood vessel), a pregnancy certainly would be lethal.

did the people behind that ad even think about how a uterus WORKS? do they know what the cervix does? do they know how a placenta forms? pregnancies that have resulted from uterine transplants in cis women have all been cesarean section deliveries, but there’s still changes that occur in the cervix that needs vaginal support in a c-section. SRS has created some amazing vaginas, but none of them have the same functionality as the typical vagina- they don’t have the same muscular function. it’s why dilation is so important after SRS- it’s not a muscle transplant, it’s an autograft. vaginoplasties work because the tissue comes from the patient. there’s no chance of rejection. transplants are a whole ‘nother story. you’re looking at the huge risk of immunosuppressants, and that’s the best case scenario. worst case, your body rejects the organ and you die. another complication of uterine transplants: they don’t last. when they do happen, they get removed entirely after a couple of pregnancies at most, because it’s so dangerous to leave them in and have a person on immunosuppressants for the rest of their life. even the papers that support uterine transplant as ethically and legally feasible point out that the 12 (12! only 12! out of decades of work, only 12!) successful pregnancies occurred in AFAB women and have… a really bad understanding of the skeletal changes that occur on estrogen versus the ones that occur on testosterone. how is that not promoting false hope?

and maybe it’s mean to point this out. i don’t… i don’t want to alienate trans women further. it seems mean to say that a woman can’t be something, to say “sorry but this dream you have cannot come true.” but isn’t it just as mean to promise that it can? trans women deserve the world. they deserve the very best in gender affirming medical care if they want it (not all trans women do!). they don’t deserve to be lied to.

[mountswhore]

can i requets a fluffy declan fic where reader gets her wisdom teeth removed and they're best friends and when she's on the gas she tells him she's in love with him and when the gas dies down he asks her if she was like 5000% sure of it and she was soooo sure and it gets all fluffier

𝟓𝟎𝟎𝟎% 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞 — declan rice

summary: you go for your wisdom teeth removal surgery, and declan decides to take you.

notes: requests are OPEN.

"It's such a weird feeling," Mason was telling you, as the three of you were sat on Declan's couch, "it's like I knew what I was saying, but also, I didn't."

You giggled, but your nerves were still rattling your bones. You were due to get your wisdom teeth removed, which is why you were at your best friend Declan's house. He offered to take you, as you wouldn't be able to drive yourself, and your family lived too far from you to take you. And seeing as Mason had been through this procedure before, he was tagging along and telling you everything you needed to know. More like, scaring you into thinking it was worse than it actually is.

"Yeah, you're awake for the whole thing. You feel all the pain, you just can't move or say anything." Mason spoke, and you hated how good he was at suppressing his laughter, because he had you believing it. Mason and Declan laughed, whilst you were hiding your face in a pillow.

"Stop," Declan chuckled, throwing an arm around you, "you're scaring her."

The interaction was nothing more than a quick thought from Declan, or so you thought, but to you, it was everything. You didn't know how or when it started, but your feelings for Declan had been growing. You found yourself enjoying his company more, seeing him in a completely different light, and it was scary. You had yet to tell anyone about it, not even Mason. You knew he'd make jokes, and eventually blabber to Declan. You were adamant on keeping it to yourself.

The morning before, you were shaking in fear in the passenger seat of Declan's car. Mason was sat behind you, he had his hands on your shoulders and was massaging them ever so slightly, but all he was doing was making you more nervous. It wasn't the procedure that scared you, it was the anesthesia that was throwing you off. You could say all sorts of things.

"I'll see you when you get out, okay?" Declan spoke, pulling you into him. And your nerves dissipated momentarily. You'd given Mason a brief hug before you were led into the dentist office, laying in the chair with shaky hands and an unsteady breathing pattern.

You were awake, Declan holding one of your hands, and Mason holding the other, the two of them leading you out to the car and laughing at you stumbling. But you felt as if you were walking just fine.

"Ready to go?" Declan asked, turning to look at you in the passenger seat, and you were curled up in a ball with your head on the window. Mason was dying of laughter on the back seat, pulling his phone out to record you. Within a day, you'd be the laughing stock on his Instagram as well as Declan's.

"Why are you laughing at me?" You asked, loopy as anything, with genuine tears in your eyes. The boys knew just how over the top you'd be today, it would be your usual personality, just more dramatic. You had fumbled with the radio, Olivia Rodrigo playing and you'd turned it up.

"Good for you, you look happy and healthy," you sang, swaying to the song, Mason continuing to record you, knowing just how much enjoyment everyone would get watching this. And as you were singing, the gauze had fallen from your mouth and into your lap.

"My tongue!" You cried as Declan turned down the radio, "my tongue fell out." Tears were falling from your face, Mason was still in fits of laughter, and Declan had pulled over to put it back into your mouth and make sure you were okay.

You were patiently watching as Declan took his hoodie off, placing it over your lap to keep you warm and wiping your hair from your face. A small smile on your face, you couldn't stop thinking about your feelings for him, and the anesthesia only brought those feelings out of you. With no regards to how it would change things.

"I love you so much, Dec." You hummed, and Declan laughed it off as you being loopy again, but you were dead serious, "I am in love with Declan, for a long time." The last part was directed at Mason, although, you weren't facing him. And Declan almost crashed into the car in front of him, stopping at a red light. He couldn't believe what he'd heard.

He didn't question it, didn't say anything to you, he just looked at Mason in the rearview mirror, and kept driving. Mason was just as shocked, he decided to leave your half-asleep state alone. And the pair of them helped you onto the sofa, where you napped your loopiness away.

"You heard that too, right?"

"Yeah, I think so." Declan responded, still completely stunned.

"What are you going to do about it?"

"What should I do?"

Mason rolled his eyes, as his friends had no game. "Ask her about it when she wakes up. I'll leave if it makes you more comfortable."

"I'm not asking her, that's so embarrassing. What if she didn't mean it and it ruins our friendship?"

Mason stopped what he was doing on his phone, putting it down and looking up at Declan, who was biting his nails anxiously. "Why would it ruin your friendship?"

Declan stayed quiet, he'd pretty much just told Mason he liked you. And Mason got up to cheer, forgetting you were in the room next door. Declan shushed his friend, sighing heavily and pointing to the living room, Mason soon after getting the hint.

"I think I have it on video, should I send it to her?" Mason asked. "Seeing as you're such a pussy."

"I am not a pussy."

Mason grabbed his phone, showing Declan the last part of the video and what you'd said.

"I love you so much, Dec," you repeated, your angelic voice now reduced to a small speaker in Mason's phone, "I am in love with Declan, for a long time."

It was true, he wasn't hearing things. You felt the same as he did, but how did he go about talking about it? Was there a less awkward way? Maybe Mason's idea was a good idea.

Mason had disappeared later that day, making sure to send Declan the video of you professing your love for him. And he watched it back again, it was like music to his ears. After years of pining for you, you were finally his. Almost. All he had to do was actually ask you out.

You had woken up two hours later, your whole mouth in a dull pain and confused as to where you were for a good few minutes. Declan heard you groan and stop what he was doing in the kitchen to aid you. He sat beside you, an amused smile on his face as he studied your mouth. You tried to smile, frowning as it hurt to move your lips whatsoever.

"Oh my God," your eyes widened, looking around the living room, listening out for the slightest bit of noise elsewhere, "where's Mason? Did I kill him? Did I push him out the car on the way home?" Declan let out a hearty laugh, pulling the blanket over your shoulders a little bit more.

"NO," he reassured you, making sure to fluff your pillow again before pushing your shoulder back gently, "he's fine, he went home. But he managed to record a video of you and your loopiness." You groaned, not ready for whatever bullshit was about to spew from your mouth in the video Declan was preparing to show you.

You giggled at yourself as you cried about your tongue falling out, how crazy you got over Olivia Rodrigo, and the wide range of emotions you'd felt in such a short amount of time. And right as the video was about to cut off, your heart started beating just a little bit faster when you'd realised you'd told Declan you were in love with him, to his face. And Mason, too.

"Oh."

Declan locked his phone and looked at you, no longer wanting to beat around the bush. "Did you mean it?"

"Of course I did," you whispered back to him, giving him an innocent look. The two of you were plunged into silence, not knowing whether to talk about it or not. But Declan had opted for kissing you instead, to show he felt the same. And so he didn't have to say it, it was more romantic this way.

"You're 5000% sure?"

"Shush, I wouldn't kiss you otherwise."

[iamwhoami]

Sister Oh Sister (Grey’s Anatomy)

Grey’s Anatomy

   When Amelia has brain surgery to remove her tumor, her sister Y/N is with her the entire time, worried that she might lose her.

Warnings: None

Requested = Yes

Haha...finally got one done...

It’s been a while since I’ve seen the episode where Amelia gets her tumor removed so the facts might be a lil iffy.

You were the first person she told.

   When she paged you to the scan room, you definitely were not expecting this bombshell.

“Oh...Amelia...” You whispered and immediately pulled her into your arms.

“It’s okay...” Amelia said, almost as if she was trying to convince herself to, “It’s benign.”

   You choked back a sob at those words. It was a relief of course, but it was a tumor nonetheless and would definitely have to be removed.

That meant brain surgery.

   Over the next while, you were constantly at Amelia’s side. Yes, it was partially because you knew you had to be there for her, but in a way, you were also there because you were scared.

Scared that history might repeat itself.

   The few months before Derek died, you hadn’t really been around him much. Now looking back, you regretted not visiting him, Meredith and the kids more. You regretted now inviting them over for dinner more. 

You didn’t want to have those regrets with Amelia.

   Despite all your fear and worries though, you did you best to hide it from Amelia, putting a brave face on instead.

   The day of Amelia’s surgery, you had worked yourself up so much that you spent the first half hour of the day throwing up in the bathroom at home.

   You knew you were worried about her, but there really weren’t any words that would truly describe just how great that worry was.

   Pulling yourself together though, you forced yourself to eat some breakfast before heading to the hospital. It was a surprise that Meredith had even managed to get you to go home since you spent all your time at the hospital since Amelia was checked in.

   Parking your car, you killed the engine and was going to walk in when you realized that you couldn’t. You were so overwhelmed by everything that you just needed one moment by yourself so that you could break down without Amelia knowing.

   You didn’t realize how much you had been holding back until you finally let it all out. You were sobbing so hard, you didn’t even hear the first few knocks on the window to your car.

   Sniffling, you wiped your nose with the side of your hand before taking a deep breath and getting out of the car.

“You good?”

   You looked over at Meredith, debating what you should tell her. Should you lie even though you knew she would see right through it?

“I will be,” You whispered, “But that doesn’t really matter right now.”

“Of course it matters,” Meredith responded, “Y/N, you’ve been driving yourself insane with worry about Amelia and I know you have your reasons but how would Amelia react if she knew what you’ve been doing?”

“What am I doing?” You asked numbly as you and Meredith headed into the building.

   Meredith grabbed your arm, making you stop, “You’re not taking care of yourself Y/N. Your running yourself to the ground, you’re not eating, you’re not sleeping.”

“It’s going to be okay,” You whispered back, biting your lip as you felt the tears threaten to spill from your eyes again, “Right? She’s going to be okay.”

“Oh...Y/N,” Meredith reached out her other arm and pulled you into a hug.

   You choked back a sob, “She has to be okay Mer because I swear I can’t do it again. Not after Derek...”

“I know,” Meredith mumbled and put her hand on the back of your head, rubbing it up and down.

   With that, you nodded and Meredith looped her arm through yours before making your way up to Amelia’s room.

“I’ll go through the a sub frontal craniotomy, real clean, small incision,” Tom was saying as you and Meredith arrived.

   Amelia saw you and gave you a weak smile which you just barely were able to return.

“So I imagine you have questions,” Tom looked at everyone expectantly.

“Yeah uh...how many of these have you done?” Dr. Bailey pointed her finger at Tom.

   Tom shook his head slightly, “So...so many.”

“What’s the recovery time?” Richard added.

   You tried to listen. You tried to pay attention, stay engaged, but your mind just kept wandering, going through each of the possible scenarios. 

“See you at the afterparty,” Tom was saying when you zoned back in and without another word he walked out of the room.

“He’s arrogant and a showboat so DeLuca, make sure you ask him questions during surgery,” Amelia ordered, “Make him show off.”

   DeLuca nodded in response and you knew that he would do that.

“And if I make it through,” Amelia started to say but Owen cut her off.

“When you make it through,” He corrected.

“Early ambulation protocol,” DeLuca finished and Amelia thanked him.

   Amelia then turned to Meredith, “Meredith...if I die.”

“You are not going to die,” Meredith said.

“But if I do,” Amelia went on, “You call my mom...I’m sorry but she likes you.”

“True that,” You snorted, knowing fully that Amelia was very correct on that.

   Amelia then looked over at Maggie, “And you...take my room! I totally scammed you on that.”

“Don’t be ridiculous-” Maggie started to say but Alex cut in.

“She’s right on that, it’s way better,” Alex mumbled to Maggie.

“If I’m gorked after this,” Amelia took a deep breath, “Unplug me. Don’t think about it. Go on with your lives. If I need unplugging, April has been named my power of attorney.”

   At those words, everyone, including you, slowly looked over at April who had a very awkward expression on her face.

“What...was I supposed to say no?”

“I uh...I don’t know what’s me and what’s tumor talking,” Amelia looked you straight in the eyes before continuing, “But uh...in this moment, I love you people tremendously.”

~~~

   You were sitting in between Meredith and Maggie, watching through the gallery at the scene below. Amelia standing...leading the superhero pose.

   You watched as Amelia got onto the table and as she was preparing to lay down, she gave you a wave.

   Forcing a smile, you waved back.

~~~

   The entire time Amelia was in surgery, it felt like you were underwater. Not drowning, but just underwater. The sounds around you were fuzzy and even though you could see perfectly well, your eyes stung as if salt was irritating them. You were subconsciously holding your breath too, breathing only when Maggie or Meredith reminded you to.

   When the surgery ended, you were slightly relieved but now you were tasked with one of the hardest things.

Waiting.

   You refused to leave Amelia’s side, even though she was still unconscious. Meredith and Maggie tried to get you to leave for food, but you brushed them off, only leaving to use the bathroom.

   You talked a lot to Amelia while you waited for her to wake up, knowing that she couldn’t hear you. It brought you some sort of comfort though, speaking to her as if she were awake.

“I know you’d tell me that I’m being stupid,” You laughed, holding Amelia’s hand in yours, watching her face carefully for any signs that she might be waking up.

   You smiled painfully, “But I can’t leave you Amy...not after what happened with Derek. You can’t leave me...because I really need you Amy. Even though I’ve been annoying and you’ve been a pain in my ass at times, I love you so much more than I’ve ever told you.”

   You reached your hand out and gently stroked your sister’s face.

“Please Amy...” You swallowed hard, “Please don’t leave me.”

~~~

   Needless to say, when Amy woke up speaking French, you thought you were going to have a heart attack. When Meredith explained what was going on though...you quickly understood and calmed down.

A little bit.

   It was hard watching Amelia be in pain while she recovered from brain surgery but you always put on a brave face and made sure to be there beside her every step of the way.

   It took a while, and since you were with Amelia every day it was hard to see the tiny steps of progress, but you did. It felt like forever, but you knew it wasn’t, before Amelia was finally allowed to be discharged and head home.

“I’ll put the bags in the car first,” Owen said and looked over at you

   You smiled and Owen gave you a knowing look before walking out of the room, a few bags in his hand.

“You look like crap,” Amelia joked as you rubbed your bloodshot eyes.

“Right back at you,” You mumbled back but Amelia could tell it didn’t have your usual spunk.

“What’s wrong?” Amelia asked, clearly concerned.

   You shook your head, “It’s stupid...”

“Oh come on Y/N,” Amelia said, “It’s me, you know you can tell me anything.”

   You sighed and shook your head again but you didn’t stay quiet this time and told Amelia what was bothering you.

“It’s just...especially after Derek,” You felt yourself start to choke up and quickly swallowed hard, “I couldn’t lose you. I was so scared I would lose you too Amelia.”

   Amelia’s gaze softened as she realized what you meant.

“Come here...” Amelia whispered and opened her arms so that you could lean into her embrace, “It’s okay...I’m okay now. You’re not going to lose me.”

   You nodded and closed your eyes, “I know...but it was just hard...”

“I don’t even know how hard that must have been for you,” Amelia said and you felt her sigh, “But you know...you can’t get rid of me that easily.”

   You couldn’t help but shake your head at your sister’s attempts of trying to make a joke.

“I know, you’re like a barnacle,” You went along with Amelia’s attempts.

“Seriously though,” Amelia whispered, “I’m always going to be with you no matter what.”

   You nodded, “I know...I love you Amelia.”

“Love you too.”

[handy-dandy-monster-candy]

Brace, part One

Rating: SFW Length: 1272 Pairing: Male-Coded Android x GN Reader

A dark sci-fi fantasy romance. Huge trigger warnings for genocide, child death, attempted murder, injury, blood, heavy religious themes.

xxx

It’s another grey day in Spire City, and rain comes down in streams against your prison window. As you watch, neon lights flicker and steam in the downpour, advertising dentists and bars and career opportunities in Jackson Thomas’s Silver Spire. You can see the Spire in the distance, lit up like a beacon in the haze of watery white noise. You’re sure that you could navigate the labyrinthine streets of the city using it as one would a compass needle, if only you were given half a chance.

You are one of the Fallen: a branded human who developed an unstable genome that gave you supernatural powers, thus deviating from the humans who pass on to sit at the foot of the Beholder’s throne. In the beginning, before the phenomena became widespread, your kind was whispered about behind closed doors, nothing more than an insubstantial spectre in the dark. Then, when more and more children were born with strange powers, the world flew into a panic.

Temples were overwhelmed by desperate parents or those pregnant begging them to cleanse or help spare their children. It wasn’t long before the Temple of the Beholden officially declared such children aberrations against the laws of nature and forbade them from stepping foot in a temple. Some children were abandoned in the dark, some disappeared; most were killed in religious fervour, buried in unmarked graves or washed up on riverbanks.

The Temple of the Beholden called it the Great Ousting—a fancy name for genocide.

Faced with the blood staining the eyes of their Most Holy, a silent exodus ensued from the Temple of the Beholden, its Templars renouncing the white and gold of their former regalia in favour of founding a new faith for the people: the Order of the Fallen. Shrines for the Fallen were erected seemingly overnight—a direct challenge to the Beholden, and one they did not take lightly. All members of the Order were promptly excommunicated from the Templar faith, and though years of unrest have followed, a holy war had yet to break out. 

You remember running your fingers along the robes of the Order in your mother’s wardrobe, admiring the swift but subtle gradient from coal black to blood red. You had grown up kneeling beside her in front of the altar, letting her hand guide yours as you lit the incense and red candles in front of the effigy of the Beholder. You remember praying for the Fallen to find redemption at the feet of the Beholder; to not be barred from re-entering the stream of souls that trickle down into new bodies; to find love and safety in those around them.

And then you Fell.

A knock on the door stirs you from your muddled thoughts, bringing you out of the trance you allow yourself to fall into in order to pass the time within these four walls. When you turn your head to look, the door is already closing, having allowed in a tall, lanky man with bags of groceries stacked impossibly high in his arms. You watch him walk across your tiny cell and begin to sort the goods into the cupboards and fridge, and that’s when you notice that he isn’t human at all. He has the same smooth, sculpted head that most generic androids do beneath his hood, rather like a supercycle helmet that just melts into the lines of his neck and shoulders.

Despite it all, you find yourself feeling curious; just what game is your mother playing now? The android wears the gloves and robes of the Order, stocking the pantry and fridge with things in soft packaging. You weren’t allowed to have tins or other hard packaging after the incident with the beans and the caretaker who tried to take advantage of your solitude. In fact, most metal was kept away from you, within reason, due to your specific ability to manipulate it. This meant that the building that you were in was built entirely out of plastisteel and ceramicrete, from the supports to the rivets and even the bathroom fixtures. Not even nanotech or biometals were safe.

Why, then, had your mother sent you an android?

The light in the camera in the centre of the room flickers and dies. The android calmly sets aside the rest of the packages and turns to face you, crossing the room in a few even strides and snatching you up from the window seat like a damsel in the old reels you used to watch with your mother. Shock and outrage war for dominance for an instant as your instincts buck, senses seeking metal to rend and destroy, push away from your bubble and—the wall beside you explodes.

The blast is so loud after days, weeks, months of silence that you’re briefly light-headed and lost to a powerful bout of tinnitus, almost entirely missing the transition your body takes from warm and dry to cold and wet. Your bare feet touch the roof of the neighbouring building and you blink through the lashing rain to see rioters at the base of your prison on the other side of the street, a multitude of fingers pointing from your broken window to the building you now stand upon. In an instant you’re airborne again, narrowly avoiding yet another explosive projectile from the crowd, and then you find yourself in the arms of the android as he scales from roof to roof away from your would-be murderers.

You must be dreaming, you think, except that dreams don’t bleed and you’re definitely bleeding, cut by shrapnel and shivering with shock and cold. You know nothing of where you are or where you’re going, entirely at the mercy of the android carrying you through the city.

When at last you arrive at your destination, you’re sure your lips must be turning blue from hypothermia, but you aren’t allowed to stop. The android leads you into a little hovel in a building in the slums, half-collapsing and with petra moths fluttering against bald light fixtures. Here, he gives you clothing to change into and a warm can of coffee, which you sip as he tends to your wounds.

“Who are you?” you finally ask when the chattering of your teeth has calmed, looking up at what passes for the android’s face. “Who sent you?”

“My name is Brace,” the android simply replies, shrugging off the robes of the Order and revealing streetwear as nondescript as the clothing you now wear. “I’m with the Resistance.”

“What Resistance?” you ask, bewildered and out of sorts. “What does a resistance movement want with me?”

“Not you specifically,” says Brace, sliding a gun into a slit in his trousers that leads to a gap in his leg. “Fallen in general. Think of us as a liberation movement. We want your freedom. It’s my job to smuggle you off of this continent.”

“The whole damn continent? I’m conspicuous,” you say, gesturing to the tattoo on your face.

“Minor surgery will remove the brand. Whatever other objections you may have, I suggest you remember what I just delivered you from.” Brace conceals more weapons among his person as you watch, from thin knives to long, terrible needles. This seems to be his storehouse, filled to the brim with all matter of weapons and explosives. “We leave tonight. I suggest you get whatever rest that you can.”

You have more questions burning on your tongue, but you swallow them for now. If this is to be your new normal for however much longer you’re alive, you want to be as prepared as possible for whatever may come.

[brutal-nemesis]

E&T: Unfamiliar

Things are finally gonna get LABBY boys, I’m fuckin excited. Also this got so fuckin long so I Apologize

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Ingredients: noncon touching (like. a lot. but its unsexy), painful magical healing, unsexy nudity (bro just takes a shower it ain’t graphic), emeto mention, drugging, noncon surgery mention

PART II: Monster Without A Name

The things that hit him first were the brightness of the sun and the overwhelming heat. They had teleported into a sort of palace garden, similar to the one they had just left, but at the same time not similar at all. As Erebus was led away, he couldn’t help but look around in terrified fascination. Everything about this place was so different, from the color of the stones to the plants to the way people were dressed, making it clear just how far from home he was. He tried to focus on the allure of seeing so many new things instead of the feeling of isolation that was closing in on him. 

Erebus knew that every step he took would lead him closer to his fate, but honestly, all had been lost the moment he had arrived in Taiyorum, so he let Rhys pull him along. He tried to remember the way, but there were so many twists and turns and steps going down and unfamiliar sights that he quickly got lost. Eventually, they stopped in front of a door. “I think I’ve got him from here,” Neteri said, taking the leash from the guard, “thanks, Rhys.” He nodded and left them. Erebus steeled himself as Neteri opened the door and ushered him inside.

The cell was larger than the one in Nathar, and Neteri hadn’t lied when she’d said it would be nicer, but then again that wasn’t a very hard requirement to meet. It had a bed along the right-hand wall and a desk on the left, with a small chest of drawers against the back wall. There was a door at the foot of the bed, though Erebus couldn’t quite see what it led to. He was too caught up in looking around to notice what Neteri was doing until he felt something cold clamp around his ankle. Why had he been expecting not to be chained up again? At least it wasn’t his wrists, and he would’ve been mortified if she had just attached the leash to the wall. Thankfully, she removed both it and the rope around just wrists. He stretched, happy to have his arms free for the first time in days.

“Alright, let’s get you fixed up for good. Do you need help taking your shirt off?” Erebus shook his head and gently pulled it off before sitting down in one of the two chairs in the room. She sat across from him and held out her hand. “Let me do your arm first.” He offered it to her, and she held onto his wrist as she gently unwound the bandage. She inspected the wound and nodded before placing two fingers on one end of the gash. “I know this is gonna hurt, but please try to keep your arm as still as possible.” Erebus nodded, bracing himself as she muttered the spell’s activation word, her fingertips beginning to glow faintly. She traced them slowly down the wound, and he gritted his teeth as an intense, itching pain lit up his arm. Thankfully, it was over soon enough, but he knew there was still a lot more to come.

His back was next, and he couldn’t help but wince as she removed the bandages around his torso, partially because of the pain and partially because the brand hadn’t mysteriously disappeared overnight as he had hoped. She had him turn around, and he hugged the back of the chair tightly as she healed each lash, pressing his forehead against the wood and fighting to keep himself from crying out. It was like he was being whipped all over again, each wound burning with agony as it was closed up. Every time he thought she might be done, she placed her fingers on another wound and the pain came back anew. After what felt like hours, she finally stopped. “You did great, Erebus! I think that was the hardest part, so your chest shouldn’t be as bad. We’re almost there.” 

As far as the pain, she wasn’t exactly wrong. The healing of his chest was a little less intense, a little less itchy. But he had watched her start to trace the burns, daring to hope that the healing would erase them completely, and instead saw them morph into very prominent scars. He screwed his eyes shut, he couldn’t watch that symbol get put on him a second time. He gripped the sides of the chair tightly, reminding himself he wasn’t up on that podium, there weren’t hundreds of eyes trained on him, he wasn’t screaming in front of them all. When Neteri was finished, he pulled his shirt back on as quickly as he could, covering up the brand along with the memories.

“There we go! Now,” she stood and smoothed her skirt, “I have unpacking and whatnot to take care of, so I’ll be back in a few hours. In the meantime you can get yourself cleaned up.” She gestured to the closed door and then paused for a moment, narrowing her eyes. “You can, like, do that yourself, right?” Erebus nodded, giving her an odd look. He hadn’t been that pampered. She held her hands up defensively. “Okay, just making sure. Oh, and that chain is enchanted so clothes pass through it, which is great because that means you’re not stuck wearing the same pair of pants for forever! There should be clean clothes in there, by the way.” She pointed at the chest of drawers. “Alright I think that’s it. I’ll be back eventually.”

Once Neteri was gone, Erebus took a deep breath and let it out with a sigh. He was tempted to just bury his face in the pillow and cry and process everything, but he knew he needed to wash all the blood and dirt off himself first. The door Neteri had pointed to led to a small bathroom. His gaze went to the left first, where there was a sink with a mirror above it.

Upon seeing his reflection in the mirror, Erebus flinched. It was the first time he’d seen himself since his capture, not that there was much left that he recognized. Gone was his long, beautiful hair, his fine clothes, his prince’s circlet, and the smile that he’d always worn so effortlessly. The person looking back at him was defeated, collared like an animal, his eyes filled with grief and dried blood smeared around his mouth. And while his short hair didn’t necessarily look bad, it still wasn’t him in the slightest. Maybe Erebus really had died two days ago, and this was just...some other person looking back at him. Unable to bear the sight anymore, he tore his gaze away and looked around the rest of the bathroom.

He didn’t see a bathtub, so he wasn’t exactly sure how Neteri expected him to wash himself. There was a drain in the floor near the wall across from the sink with a couple bottles of soap nearby. And there, on the wall, there was some sort of lever. He hesitantly pulled it, unsure if it was a door handle or what, and suddenly found himself being sprayed with water. He cried out and jumped back to find that the water didn’t follow him. It appeared to be coming out of an oddly shaped piece of metal protruding from the wall that he hadn’t noticed before. It was like...an intense little rainstorm. While part of him found this new technology interesting, the other part was disappointed he wouldn’t even get the comfort of a bath.

Regardless, he still wanted to get clean. He removed his now wet clothes and stepped back into the water. It was freezing cold, but he soon figured out that pulling the lever further down made the water warmer. He felt a lump forming in his throat as he started washing his hair. He’d always loved taking time to care for it, and now it barely took a minute. It shouldn’t be worth getting upset over, and he knew it would grow back, but he couldn’t help missing it. He just didn’t feel like himself without it. And as he moved onto washing his body, the feeling lingered.

Before he knew it he was scrubbing furiously, not just trying to get off the blood and grime, but the feeling of hands, ropes, chains, that he could still feel trapping him, forcing him towards this destiny he didn’t want any part of. But he couldn’t get it to go away, even as the physical reminders of his captivity washed off. No, that wasn’t entirely true either. His wrists were still chafed, his ankle was still chained to the wall, his chest was still branded, his neck still had that horrible collar around it, and his mouth was still very much missing a tongue. He couldn’t forget where he was or what had happened to him for a single second. 

At some point he’d gotten off everything he could, so pulled the lever to stop the little rainstorm and dried off with the towel hanging on a nearby hook. He pulled a clean set of clothes out of the chest of drawers and got dressed. They weren’t anywhere near as nice as what he was used to, but they were an improvement compared to what he’d had on before. He collapsed on the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. This was it, huh? Day after day he was going to wake up here and go through...experiments. He shuddered, pushing the thought out of his mind. Dwelling on it would only make him upset, and did not want Neteri coming back and seeing him sobbing. He’d already cried in front of her once today, and that was pathetic enough. 

Upon searching the desk, he found a blank notebook and a pencil, so he busied himself with drawing cats and plants and writing his name. He was never the best artist, and people always told him the way he wrote the “r” in his name was strange, but it was something else to focus on. After a while, Neteri came back with a notebook of her own and looked at his scribblings with mild interest.

 “Was that left in the desk? Huh. Well, whatever. I’m going to need you to stand up and take your shirt off again.” Erebus simply leaned back and raised an eyebrow. “What? It’s nothing painful, I just need to make some observations and take some measurements. And if you don’t cooperate I’ll just get Rhys again and we can take you down to the lab and strap you to the table.” She shrugged. “Either way.” Erebus sighed in defeat and did as she asked. He desperately wanted a break from being tied up and manhandled, and what Neteri wanted, even if it was a little humiliating, was harmless enough. At least it seemed that way, until she started.

Erebus had felt a bit objectified when Neteri had looked him over the first time that they met, but that was nothing compared to what he was feeling now. She was methodically scanning practically every part of him, making measurements and taking notes all the while. She grabbed and stroked and pulled and prodded with no regard whatsoever for his personal space. When she moved to study his chest, he leaned back, but she hooked a finger through the ring in his collar and pulled him close again. He shuddered as she ran her fingers over the brand, she had to be aware of how incredibly uncomfortable she was making him given the way she seemed to be writing down his every reaction. 

He thought that’d be the worst of it, but once again he thought that too soon. Neteri pushed him so he was seated on the bed and started studying his face. He tried to turn away, but she grabbed his chin and forced him to face her. There was nothing he could do but stare intently at the corner of the ceiling as she pried his mouth open, no doubt studying what remained of his tongue. She even ran a finger along his teeth, paying particular attention to his canines. He desperately hoped that whatever she had planned wouldn’t involve messing with them. She moved to his eyes next, pulling at his eyelids and turning his head to force him to look her in the eye. He gave up trying to avoid her gaze and stared back. The way she was looking at him...it was as if she didn’t see him, just his eyes and his face, but not Erebus. 

Suddenly, her eyes narrowed and she leaned back. “Why is your face so red? Wait...am I making you uncomfortable? I am, aren’t I?” Erebus instinctively smacked himself in the face with the palm of his hand, dragging it down a bit before nodding. She was looking at him that closely and just now noticed? What had she even been writing down, then? No, he didn’t want to know, he was certain it would just make him feel even more objectified. “Sorry, I just got sort of caught up in my note taking. I think I’ve got enough now. That was it for today so I’ll just...go.” Right then, as if on cue, Erebus’s stomach growled loudly.

“Oh wait, I haven’t fed you at all today, have I?” Erebus gave her an incredulous look and shook his head. “Shoot, sorry about that. I’ll run and get you something. Be right back!” She called over her shoulder as she dashed out of the room. Erebus sighed. Better late than never, but seriously? You’d think after how excited she was to...get ahold of him, she’d be a little more on top of things. His gaze fell on the notebook, and he belatedly realized he could’ve been using it to actually communicate with Neteri. The majority of the time he’d spent with her had been after... what she did to him...so being able to talk to her by any other means than making faces hadn’t even occurred to him. He spent a bit debating what he even wanted to say, but he eventually landed on a question he wasn’t even sure if he wanted the answer to.

When Neteri came back, profusely apologizing for her oversight, he handed her the notebook before he started eating. She squinted at it. “Is this supposed to be the letter ‘r’?” He sighed and nodded. “Your handwriting is weird. Anyway, to actually answer your question of what’s going to happen to you...I think a lot of things we’re just going to have to play it by ear. Nothing beyond that’s set in stone beyond the fact that you’ve got your first procedure tomorrow.” Erebus jumped out of his chair, backing up a few steps. His first what was when??! “I probably shouldn’t have told you that because now you’re just going to freak out. You know what, I’m gonna go grab you something, so finish your food.”

Erebus shakily tried to do as Neteri asked while she was gone, but fear and nervousness were starting to make him feel ill. He forced down as much as he could, knowing he really needed the nutrients. The word procedure kept echoing in his mind over and over. He’d known she was planning on doing that sort of thing to him, but it had seemed like some vague, horrific future that wouldn’t come to pass, and suddenly it was happening tomorrow, and any hope of rescue had been ripped away, and it was inevitable, the procedure was tomorrow, the procedure was tomorrow, the procedure was tomorrow-

“Hey, hey, you’re alright, you’re gonna be okay.” He jumped as Neteri started stroking his back; he hadn’t even heard her come in. “There, there, let’s get you to bed.” She helped him stand and walked him over the bed, forcing him to lie down. “This will help you sleep, so drink it, okay?” she pressed a small vial of dark blue liquid to his lips. He hesitated a bit, but ultimately drank it. As much as he didn’t want tomorrow to come, he’d rather get whatever hellish thing she had planned over with instead of agonizing all night. He closed his eyes as drowsiness overtook him, trying his best to pretend that the person stroking his hair wasn’t going to cut him open tomorrow.

Next→

Tags:  @dramaticcollapse @thehopelessopus @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @as-a-matter-of-whump @galaxywhump @mnmlover2002 @tears-and-lilies

[sweethugsandhoney]

hanahaki disease pt 1

summary: hanahaki disease- a disease where the victim of unrequited or one sided love begins to vomit or cough up the petals and flowers of a flowering plant growing in their lungs. which will eventually grow large enough to render breathing impossible if left. it ends when the beloved returns their feelings or when the victim dies.

pt 1 pt 2 pt 3 pt 4

i jumped a little as morgan’s leg took down the door. the three of us moved quickly and swiftly. morgan headed right, reid left, and i made my way up the stairs. i reached the top of the stairs and towards the rooms. “clear!”, i heard morgan’s voice come from downstairs. i checked the rooms and yelled a ‘clear’, lowering my weapon and making my way downstairs.

a loud gunshot resonated through the house, making my feet move faster to the left side of the house. god damn it spencer, why is it always you, i thought to myself. i held up my weapon as i entered the room where the gunshot came from. lowering it again when i saw spence putting handcuffs on the suspect. morgan came from behind me and grabbed the suspect, taking him to the car, telling him his rights.

“hey, are you okay”, i said approaching spencer, putting my hand on his arm and looking for any clear injuries on his body. “yeah, i’m fine”, he said dismissively and started making his way outside. i retracted my hand to my side and letting my head hang low. i stood there for a second, letting myself shake the pain away. i made my way to the car, a tightness in my throat.

i sat in the back with the suspect, keeping a close eye on him. morgan and spencer talked while i just stayed quiet. i cleared my throat as i felt the tightness becoming more present. soon enough i was full on coughing uncontrollablly. i saw morgan pull over and quickly got out of the car. i fell to my hands and knees as i started heaving. i felt a lump come up my throat and out my mouth, landing on the concrete.

my brows furrowed as i saw i had coughed up a deep red carnation with blood. this morning i was coughing up petals, now it’s fully grown flowers. i silently cursed as i remembered my audience. they weren’t supposed to see this, i thought. i wiped the blood off my chin, grabbing the tissues that spencer gave me. “what was that about?”, he asked, his frame towering over mine, getting a good look at what i coughed up. i ignored the question and continued wiping the blood.

“she’s dying”, i heard an unfamiliar voice say. i looked up to see that the suspect uttered his first words to us. i gave him a hard stare, silently telling him to shut up. “be quiet”, i said as a climbed back into the car, shutting the door behind me.

“you could get that surgically removed, you know? i did it and i haven’t coughed up anything since”, he said looking at me.

“what’s he talking about, y/l/n?”, spencer asked looking back at me. i shook my head, my ponytail shaking with it, “it’s nothing”. i looked out the window as morgan started driving again, still feeling spence’s eyes on me but deciding to ignore it. we soon got to the police station, bringing the suspect into one of the interrogation rooms.

“oh god, did it happen again”, emily said walking over to me. i nodded my head subtly, “how’d you know?”

“you always get this sunken look in your eyes after it happens”, she said examining my eyes. “has the doctor told you anything?”, we made our way over to the board room, going to sit down. i shook my head no and sat down in one of the chairs. “the test results haven’t come in yet, but i’m pretty sure i already know what it is”.

“and the suspect said something about a surgery”, emily raised her eyebrows, “he said that you could get it surgically removed and that he had it done”.

“you should look into it and ask your doctor about it, you don’t want to be coughing up flowers for the rest of your life”, emily said pointing at my lungs and eaching over to grab her coffee filled mug from one of the tables. i nodded my head and that was the end of that conversation.

the suspect admitted to killing women and the case was closed. we were on the jet on our way home. we made it to the airport and made our way back to the fbi headquarters. some of us went home, others stayed a little bit. i was part of the ones who stayed.

i wanted to get a little head start into the paperwork and take it home to finish it. unfortunately, spencer also stayed back. i really hoped and prayed to whoever was listening to please not have spencer come and question me about that little episode that happened earlier. my hand started reaching over for my paperwork and stuffing it in my bag. i heard spencer clear his throat from the desk beside me. my eyes looked up in his direction, finding his already looking at me.

“if anything was happening to you, you would tell me right?”, i heard spencer’s soft voice say. he said it so delicately, like if he cared about me. i felt my chest tighten, not knowing if it was the stupid flower in my lungs or my stupid feelings. i nodded my head, breaking eye contact and looking down to my bag. “yeah of course”, i replied, but i can’t tell you this. “you’ll tell me when you’re ready to?”, he said still looking at me, saying it even more delicately. i smiled and nodded my head, approaching him but keeping my hands to myself.

i looked up to meet his eyes, those perfect eyes of his. they reminded me of those of a puppy. i glanced down to his full lips, ones i wish i could desperately kiss. but the growing carnation flower in my lungs was a clear indication that he didn’t reciprocate my feelings. i was a friend to him, a friend who he could hug and spend the night at each other’s place. i looked down to look at my shoes as i remembered my one sided love.

“i will”, i chewed on my lip, side stepping him and making my way to the door. i arrived at my apartment, quickly unlocking the door and running to my bathroom. i coughed into the toilet, blood splattering into the bowl. my body shook violently as i heaved. finally feeling the damned thing coming up. this one looked just like the one from before, a deep red flower covered in my blood. i spit the remaining petals and blood into the toilet bowl.

i put the tiolet cover down and flushed the toilet as i rested my body against the wall. i tried to calm myself down, finding my thoughts trailing back to spencer. i wondered how it would be to be with spencer. to live in his heart and have him look at you with love in his eyes. i sighed as i stood up on shaky legs, brushing my teeth and taking a quick shower. i grabbed my laptop and made my way to my bed, putting a random show as background noise as i opened up chrome. my fingers moved quickly as i typed in ‘hanahaki disease’, quickly finding an article.

hanahaki disease is a disease where the victim of unrequited or one sided love begins to vomit or cough up the petals or flowers of a flowering plant growing in their lungs. this plant can range from flower to flower. totally depends on what flower the beloved prefers.

if the plant keeps growing in the person’s lungs, it will eventually lead to asphyxiation as the flower clogs the airways from where the oxygen enters from. the flower stops growing and vanishes when the beloved returns their feelings or when the victim dies. hanahaki disease is still a mystery to scientists.

little to no reasearch has been done as the disease is a rare occurrence. there is an estimated 0.67% of the population getting infected by this. the first ever recorded case leads back to 1803 in kamikatsu, japan.

my eyes looked up from my laptop, as realization hit me. i’m going to die.

[tvpeongsstuff]

Supreme Emperor Obi-Wan Kenobi (part 3)

Palpatine's imperial guards were also unconscious when Obi-Wan made his way up to the emperor's chambers. He had ordered the commanders of the storm troopers to accompany him, and to organize some of their men and the medidroids to carry Sidious and Vader up to the office with them. He had noticed the passed out imperial guards on the senate floor. However, he had not expected that all of Sidious' bodyguards would be unconscious. He was glad that there would not be a fight but wondered if they were all sith. And there the knowledge was, in his brain, as soon as thought.

The guards were not sith or darksiders. Instead they were soldiers, men, who had been chosen by Sidious for their height and lethality. Then he had molded them through dark side practices, with no one to answer to but his own perversions, into his own creatures. More than half of them were cyborgs, not as bad as Vader or Grievous but still more machine than man. Nearly all had had their vocal cords removed. He had tortured these men and steeped them so completely in the dark side that when Vader pulled all the dark energy into himself they had been knocked out.

Obiwan would have to deal with all the unconscious people soon. He suspected that either Vader would drain them until they died or he would suck them dry, forever cutting them off from the force. He directed the storm troopers to put the two sith down on the ground. The two medidroids that had traveled with them all the way to the office were buzzing around all the bodies on the floor.

"Are any of these men going to wake up anytime soon?' Obiwan asked the droids. "No? Good! Do a complete scan and give me the details. Do not administer any drugs to any of the unconscious people in this room," Obiwan paused thinking, "This order must be implemented for all of the unconscious people in the building. Make sure that every medic knows that at this time only the storm troopers are to receive medication. They are to treat the physical injuries of every other person with bandages only. I repeat no other group is to receive medication. And, unless someone is in danger of dying without it, only use bacta on the stormtroopers."

Obi-Wan did not know how drugs would affect the hold Vader had on the darksiders. He did not want anyone to wake up before he could get them properly secured. To that end, Obi-Wan turned to the storm trooper commanders in the office with him. In the force they felt familiar but muted. He did not want to raise his hopes. "Take off your buckets," he commanded.

As they complied, he steeled himself. "What are your orders, Supreme Emperor Kenobi?" said Cody. "Cody," gasped Obiwan. And, it was Cody, he looked around, and Boil, Appo, Driven, Marks, Sweet, Genna, and Dave. Men he had lived and served with. Was there something there of their old personalities? Their real personalities? "Cody,' Obiwan said again. "Do you remember me?"

"Yes Sir," replied Cody, "and I must say that I am glad that you are no longer a traitor." Obi-Wan wanted to scream at him. He wanted to make him understand that he had never been a traitor. No Jedi had been. No Jedi, but one. Back to the matter at hand.

Obi-Wan began, "Order 66 has been cancelled. Are you holding any Jedi or force sensitive captive? They are to be released from custody. Any on Coruscant are to be brought here immediately. I want to speak to the ones who are being held off planet. In the meantime, arrange untraceable transport and food for them. Also find travel companions for any who are too young to travel by themselves. And, get enough binders for all of the unconscious people.

You there," he said turning to one of the medidroids. "How are your patients?"

"I am ZT-57. The patients are unconscious but otherwise their vitals are good." said the droid. "Five of them have cybernetic limbs and hardware throughout their bodies. Four also have an implant that is injecting an unknown stimulant into their bodies. One has the implant but it is not currently injecting the stimulant."

A stimulant!? Obi-Wan turned to Sidious and the information was there. His imperial guards were fitted with a device imbued with dark side energy and spacemeth that would trigger rage and aggression if the emperor were ever threatened. It was one of Sidious' back up plans to keep power. They would battle to the death and feel no pain.

It must have been triggered when Sidious collapsed in the Senate, Obi-Wan figured. But, Vader was pulling the darkness from the solution which knocked the guard out. And, apparently, Vaders' actions were more than enough to overpower the stimulant. Obi-Wan wondered if he could allow the inquisitors to be treated with medication if Vader's pull was that strong. But he decided not to risk it until he was sure that they were secure.

What about Vader? Vader's device injected a special concoction of spacemeth and sithstimulant into Vader twice a day. One early in the morning to give him energy to get up and go. And, another at night to keep him working and focused. All told, Vader probably got no more than an hour or two of rest a day. "No wonder he was still sleeping" Obi-Wan thought.

He could not have the drug waking Vader up and stopping this. Obi-Wan reached out with the force and found and broke all the devices in the building. He would have the medidroids remove them from the men at a later date. Right now, it was enough that they were not going to wake up. Especially as he had a more urgent use for the medidroids.

"ZT-57, I need you to run a level 5 brain scan on the storm troopers. They have biochips that need to be removed." Obi-Wan said.

"Sir?" Cody sounded confused.

"Commander Cody. Have you carried out the orders I gave you earlier?"

"Yes Sir," he replied. "There were only 5 Jedi on planet. They are being brought here as we speak. They should be here in approximately 25 minutes. 6 Jedi are being held in facilities off-world. You can begin calling them in 15 minutes.."

"Why 15 minutes?" Obi-Wan interjected.

"They are to be cleaned up and given food and water. I thought you would prefer that their needs were met before you talked to them. I am in the process of arranging companions for the younglings. I thought that you would prefer it if the companions were not clones or officers of the empire. We have 2213 binders."

Obi-Wan did not ask him to explain further. He could only imagine what had been done to the captives. The initiatives that Cody took on his own gave him hope that the man he knew in the war was still there.

"Do you want to know why I am removing your biochips? Obi-Wan asked with a smile.

"No Sir," the commander responded promptly. "Good soldiers follow orders."

Obi-Wan felt sick.

"Scan done." said ZT-57. "We have the location of the biochip and can begin removing them as soon as you are ready."

"You will do the surgery here and now. Can it be done under local anesthetic?" asked Obi-Wan.

"Yes Emperor. Are you sure you want us to carry out brain surgery in the imperial office? I cannot be sure that the area is sterile. These are not optimum conditions for surgery!" The medidroid sounded worried but Obi-Wan did not care. Unless...

"Will the men be permanently injured in some way if you did the surgery here?" he asked.

"No Emperor," the other droid said quietly. "We can do it. Just know that it is not without risk." At Obi-Wan's look, he continued, "There is a 0.0004% chance that doing the surgery here might lead to infection of the wound."

"I'll risk it. Are the biochips in the same place in all of the troopers?" Obi-Wan asked.

"Yes Emperor," said ZT-57.

"Send the location of the biochips to all of the medidroids in the building. You will operate on Commanders Cody and Appo now. How long will the surgery take?"

"We will have to shave the area, then sterilize it, before we can do the surgery, So about 10 minutes." said ZT-57

Ten minutes? In 10 minutes Obi-Wan would know if he had his friends back. He would know for sure if the biochip had destroyed the men they were and replaced them with automatons that did not question orders and found it easy to kill children.

He could barely stand the wait.

[prorevenge]

Coworker tried to get me fired over breast implants, so I pulled a reverse uno card.

4 years ago now, when I was 24, my mum died of breast cancer, and as both my grandmothers had also died of it I saw a specialist for a screening. I found out I had some cells in one of my breasts that could have turned cancerous at any given moment.

I was told I had a few options:

I could have regular screenings every 3 or 4 months until it does develop into cancer (I was told the risk of the cells becoming cancerous was very high due to family history) but it could also potentially never could turn so I'd just be getting these screenings for no reason

I could get a single mastectomy on the breast with the bad cells, but they'd need to keep an eye on the other one, so I'd still need regular checkups for the other breast

I could get a bilateral mastectomy and remove all of my breast tissue, basically eliminating the risk.

I went for the bilateral mastectomy. It was admittedly the most drastic option but after seeing what cancer did to my mum and grandmothers I didn't want to risk it.

I was warned about scarring but told it should be fairly minor. It wasn't and I was left with 2 huge, pink, jagged scars on either side of my chest, each about an inch long and half an inch wide, and it caused me to go into a severe depression, where it got to the stage of me not even leaving my flat because I didn't want people to see me, throwing out my mirrors, and getting physically sick looking at myself.

I went to a therapist, who suggested a plastic surgeon. The therapist said they'd never normally do that but it was clearly something I was struggling with and I might never get over it, and the therapist could see why I struggle with it. Although I'll admit the therapist did send me to ask about scar reduction. The plastic surgeon suggested a cream, a laser or implants. The cream didn't work, and the laser was both expensive and risky, so I went with the implants. My natural boobs were an F cup so I went with a slightly smaller DD. Since then my mental health has improved and I feel a lot better about the way I look. My confidence has gone up, as has my self esteem. I know I shouldn't put so much into my appearance but I wasn't exaggerating about these scars. Huge, bright pink, jagged, raised, just really awful to look at and I hated seeing myself, and they are now nicely hidden away and you can barely feel them.

​

In the present day, I'm 28 years old and working in an office. I'm doing a lot better than I was. My coworker, Jill, found out I'd had a boob job (but not about the cancer thing), when myself and my friend from years before the mastectomy were planning a holiday and she made a joke about me going on a plane with my implants, and Jill overheard. By the end of the day, the entire office knew I'd had a boob job, but not why, and half a dozen people confirmed Jill had told them.

Over the next few months Jill made many "jokes" and comments about my chest to coworkers when I was in earshot, at one point saying I had "more plastic than Barbie" and calling me "fake in two ways". I didn't hear this one myself but a friend in the office told me that Jill had at one point referred to me as a "sack of silicone".

IDK what her problem was exactly but at one point she mentioned the NHS so I assume Jill thought that I'd got my tits done for free on taxpayer money (I'd gotten the mastectomy on NHS but gone private for therapy and implants).

I asked her to stop more than once, but unfortunately the places I'd talked to her were places like the lift and the women's bathroom, where there weren't any cameras, and Jill just kept making comments no matter how often I asked her not to. I wouldn't say it was every single day, but I heard at least 3 comments per week for 3 months.

I hit my breaking point when me, Jill and a few other coworkers were having lunch, I referred to something as being shallow and Jill said "you'd know all about being shallow" while gesturing to my chest. I snapped.

I said "do you know why I have these? A few years ago the doctors found potentially cancerous cells in my breast tissue, I was advised to get a mastectomy and was left with huge ugly scars on my chest. I went to see a therapist who sent me to a cosmetic surgeon, who advised me to get implants to hide the scars, and I did just so I could look at myself in the mirror without crying. So maybe next time you want to judge someone for having cosmetic surgery, you should ask them why they had it first". And feeling like that was a mic drop moment I picked up my food and left.

For the rest of the day I had about 1/3 of my office come up to me and offer support, and the rest tell me that Jill was just joking around and I was being a bitch. I replied that Jill was being a bitch long before I was.

I then got an email from HR saying they wanted to talk to me the following day, and when I called for clarification they mentioned a "hostile work environment" (note: this is apparently an American term and holds little weight in England but it's what was said over the phone). I knew the person who signed off the email and I'd spoken to. Her name was Debbie, and she was Jill's friend in HR so I was fairly confident on who had reported me.

​

I realised that if this was already being sent to HR, I needed as much ammunition as possible, so I went about collecting my information.

As Debbie had dealt with me so far, it was safe to assume she would be the person reviewing the complaint with me, and if that was true I was fucked. However, I vaguely remembered a section on complaints that was in my contract when I first signed with the company. I flicked through the contract and there was a part in complaints section that said I was contractually allowed to request a change of reviewer if I felt my allocated reviewer was biased. It was called an "impartial overseer". I photocopied the page and highlighted that part.

Then I messaged the people who had offered their support over facebook, and said basically "HR have asked to see me. Do any of you remember Jill insulting me to your face and are you willing to write and sign something saying what you heard and when?". Not everyone was willing to help as Jill is somewhat feared in the office due to her befriending HR and management but about 20 people were willing to help me.

I guessed roughly when I'd asked Jill to stop previously (the 4 asks over the last few months, some timings were easy to guess as they'd happened on my break or when I'd first arrived at work) and I wrote them all down, along with a rough time of when the lunchroom confrontation happened and a list of names of who was there for the lunchroom confrontation.

​

I got to work slightly early the next morning. I went round everyone who had messaged me and most of them managed to give me a printed and signed letter (some didn't manage to write one but nbd). This isn't exact words as there's 16 letters to sum up here but the gist was:

"My name is [their name]. I work with Jill Lastname and OP. On [date] at [time] (approx), I spoke with Jill Lastname, during which she referred to OP as [quoted insult]. I felt this was inappropriate as it directly related to OP's appearance and am willing to go on record further to establish that Jill Lastname has been discussing OP in the workplace in the same manner for 3 months now, causing me discomfort and creating what I feel is a hostile work environment. Signed [their name]"

I wound up with about 16 letters, all from different people, and one of them was in the lunchroom for my conversation with Jill. Some even had bulletpointed lists of everything Jill had said to them about me or other people, as it turns out Jill has issues with a lot of people's appearances. She apparently made comments about one coworker's weight, and something antisemitic about a different coworker's nose, all of which were put in these letters. There are about 45 people in the office so while 16 wasn't a majority, it's still a decent amount. The letters weren't hugely long, most were only a paragraph, but they had all the necessary information.

​

I was asked to come to HR at 10am. I took the letters from coworkers, the photocopy of the page in my contract, and my dates and times in a little folder with me.

I got there and Debbie was the one overseeing the interview. She got up from her desk, ready to lead me into another room.

I immediately turned to the other HR worker that was currently there and said "so is my meeting with you, then?"

Debbie said "no, you're with me."

I replied that this wouldn't sit well with me, as "my contract states I have a right to an impartial overseer" and as I said this I took the contract page out of my folder. Debbie read it (I wouldn't let her take the paper when there was a shredder so close by) and said she could be impartial. I replied that I really didn't mean to be a pain, but I had it on good authority that the person on the other end of this complaint is her friend, and my contract does say I'm allowed an impartial overseer.

Debbie stomped off to get Supervisor. Supervisor asks how I know she can't be impartial and I tell him that I have it on good authority that the Jill, who was on the other end of this complaint, is a close friend of Debbie. He asked Debbie if this was true, to which she only replied "I can be impartial".

Supervisor took a deep breath, asked the other HR rep to come with him, and the four of us all went to review the complaint. I thanked them for being so accommodating (I was worried I'd annoyed them), Debbie took out the complaint and all 3 of them went through it with me. Debbie looked homicidal the whole time the interview was happening, as she had clearly anticipated firing me (or at least recommending me being fired).

​

The interview went something like this. It took like over half an hour and they kept asking me the same questions but phrased different ways so this is a really drastically condensed version.

Q: You said outside that you think Jill Lastname reported you. Why is this?

A: Jill has had an issue with me for about 3 months now

Q: Why didn't you come to us when you realised Jill had an issue?

A: I had no issue with her

Q: What issue does Jill have with you?

A: Four years ago a specialist identified potentially cancerous cells in my breast tissue. I had surgery to remove my breast tissue, thereby removing the cells and the risk. After the surgery I was left with large scars on my chest. I went to a therapist for low self esteem and depression. The therapist suggested a plastic surgeon who suggested breast implants to cover my scars. All of this is in my medical history which you have a copy of in my file and my full permission to review. Jill found out about my breast implants but didn't know about the cancer. Jill had a problem with my breast implants, and decided to communicate this problem to our coworkers.

Q: Why do you feel this is true?

A: Here's 16 signed statements all from different coworkers, all testifying that Jill told the entire office I'd had breast implants on the day she found out and has since made comments about these implants frequently. They have quotes of what Jill said to them about it and rough dates and times.

Q: Rough dates and times?

A: No one knew this would be escalated to such an extent so no one really took notes as and when it happened.

Q: What event or events do you think directly led to this complaint of harassment?

A: For me harassment began when Jill told everyone about my breast implants without my consent, but as to the complaint placed against me, it would probably be what happened at about [time] yesterday in the lunch room. Jill made a comment about me being shallow while gesturing to my breasts and I replied by giving her an abridged version of my relevant medical history and ending with a comment about the importance of getting the full story. There are cameras in the lunch room, so I'm sure you'll be able to find that conversation. I'll admit I could have handled the situation better, but after 3 months I felt I had to put my foot down. Here's a list of names of people who were also present. There were 6 people at the table, including myself and Jill. One of these people is also in those letters, and has written their account of the conversation and signed it.

Q: Had you had a conversation with Jill prior to this regarding her comments about you?

A: Several, spaced out over the last 3 months. Each time I communicated to her that I felt uncomfortable and upset with these comments she was making and would appreciate it if she were to stop.

Q: To your knowledge, was Jill made aware of your former cancer at any point in this time?

A: No. It wasn't mentioned in the conversation with my friend she overheard and I didn't tell her because frankly it's none of her business and I did not feel the need to detail my medical history to a coworker in order to avoid further sexual harassment.

Supervisor stands up and says "well I think we're done here". He shakes my hand and sends me back to my desk saying that I'd hear from them after they reviewed the evidence (letters, CCTV, medical history and anything they had already) and made a decision on the case.

​

I got back to my desk, pulled up my CV, and prepared to start the job search again.

About an hour goes by, then the person who wrote the letter and was there for the lunchroom conversation gets called for a meeting with HR. They come back 10ish minutes later.

The other people who were also there for the lunchroom conversation get called one by one, except Jill. All of them are gone for about 10 minutes then come back, find a coworker, and say that HR wants to see them.

Then the people who wrote letters but weren't there yesterday are also called one by one and are each gone for about 10 minutes each, some longer, some shorter. By about 3:30 it looks like everyone who wrote a letter or was there in the lunch room has been interviewed.

Then, finally, Jill gets called in. She's gone for about 30 minutes and comes back fuming. She glares at me while I work, but I ignore her.

4:30ish, Jill gets called into HR again. 5 pm rolls around, everyone is either leaving or getting ready to leave, when Jill storms back into the office. She glares at me the whole time she packs up her desk. She then starts telling anyone who will listen that I got her fired before shoving her way onto the lift.

An email comes in from HR. My case is closed.

(source) story by (/u/3240278189)

[speedywitchanchor]

Neil Armstrong Died After Heart Surgery. That May Have Been Avoidable.

Neil Armstrong, the first man to walk on the moon, died in 2012 at age 82 after what should have been routine heart surgery. When nurses removed wires linked to a temporary pacemaker, he bled profusely into the membrane surrounding the heart. He died a week later.

The medical details, disclosed this week by The Times, have prompted questions from both doctors and readers. Did Mr. Armstrong need open-heart surgery in the first place? What went wrong, and why?

Here are some answers from leading heart surgeons.

Mr. Armstrong went to the hospital complaining of severe chest pain. Don’t people with chest pain from blocked arteries get stents to open them up?

It depends on what sort of blockage a person has, said Dr. Michael Mack, a heart surgeon at Baylor Scott & White The Heart Hospital — Plano.

Three major arteries feed blood into the heart. In Mr. Armstrong, the most important, the left anterior descending artery, was not blocked, according to records received by The Times. The other two, the circumflex and the right coronary artery, were blocked completely.

“You can’t put a stent in an artery that is completely occluded,” Dr. Mack said — at least, it could not have been done a few years ago. With advanced techniques, it can be done now by some expert surgeons.

Were there other options?

The blockages Mr. Armstrong had were probably not going to kill him, Dr. Mack said, but they do result in chest pain, also called angina. So treatment was not life-or-death; it was a quality-of-life issue. That raises questions about whether Mr. Armstrong should have been rushed into surgery.

There is an alternative to bypass surgery: medical therapy, which means trying to treat the condition with drugs. The medications that alleviate angina include nitrates that widen coronary arteries, beta blockers that slow the heart and calcium channel agonists, which also open arteries.

“If it was me, I would try medical therapy first, but it depends on how severe the pain is,” Dr. Mack said.

What is a temporary pacemaker, and why did Mr. Armstrong get one?

In open-heart surgery — whether to bypass a blocked artery or to insert a heart valve — surgeons usually stop the patient’s heart so they can work on it. A heart-lung machine temporarily substitutes for the heart’s functions.

To stop the heart, surgeons infuse an icy solution into it. But the cold can dampen the heart’s electrical circuitry, said Dr. Jonathan Haft, a heart surgeon at the University of Michigan. So when doctors try to wean patients off the heart-lung machine, the electrical circuits can be slow to recover and the heart may beat feebly, or not at all.

So when surgeons finish the operation, they almost always sew fine wires, not much thicker than a human hair, onto the surface of the heart. They thread the bright blue or orange wires through the chest wall and skin.

The wires are hooked to a box the size of a clunky, old-fashioned cellphone, which generates electrical impulses that control the heart’s rhythm.

Once the heart’s electrical system has recovered, a member of the medical staff gently tugs the wires. They are so fine that they almost always come right out; if they don’t, they are simply clipped at the skin’s surface and left in place.

No harm is done most of the time, as the heart’s own circuitry takes over. (Permanent pacemakers, which are not meant to come out, are placed inside the heart, Dr. Haft noted.)

What went wrong in Mr. Armstrong’s case?

Very occasionally, when a nurse or other staff member tugs on one of the pacemaker wires, it tears the heart surface and causes bleeding. That usually occurs because the wire was stitched on too tightly, or someone pulled too hard, Dr. Mack said.

At first there may be no sign of a problem, Dr. Haft said. But as bleeding continues, blood pressure drops and the heart rate rises. The condition, called tamponade, occurs because blood is pooling around the heart and starting to clot. This inhibits the heart’s ability to relax and fill with blood.

[theshreedhar]

Love, life, loss and a cat

This is the story of Chotu. The love of my life. The light of my life. Born 17 Feb, 2012, she was 9 years, 4 months and 4 days old when she left this world on 21 June, 2021.

Chotu, as her name appropriately captures, was a small cat. She died of chronic kidney disease—apparently common in senior cats. We checked the size of her kidneys. They had become a little chotu too, just like her.

Slipping in

We didn’t adopt Chotu. She adopted us. People use this “we were adopted by insert pet’s name here” phrase quite often. But when I say it, I mean it quite literally. We didn’t pick her from a shelter or from the street. She was born in my building. Third floor. Much to the neighbours’ aghast. This is also how I know the exact date of her birth and also have a picture of her before she even opened her eyes for the first time.

Her mom, again appropriately named Motu, was a clever cat. She knew I had an affinity for cats, but others in my family (especially mom), not so much. I’d play with her. She’d scratch me at times. It was good.

Motu and I shared a secret. It was her secret, actually. I’d sleep late in the night, which is why she had to let me in on it.

We’d play during the day. Outside. But at night, when I was “studying” or doing whatever the hell I was, she’d slip into the house and below the table. And sleep a good night’s sleep. Before any of us woke up, she’d be gone.

This was good. This worked. For quite some time. But then, to her annoyance, she gave birth to Chotu. For a month or so, she was busy with her motherly duties and did away with the space of our home. But then she was back. With Chotu. I don’t remember how long this worked for Motu, but it wouldn’t be long before Chotu blew her secret. They were caught. By mom. You don’t want to be caught by mom.

There was hell. They were forbidden from coming in. The windows were to be shut. But, well, I was the one who stayed up. The authorities can make whatever the hell rules they like, it’s the men on the ground that implements them. I was the man on the ground. The cats kept coming in.

Until they were caught again. This time it was serious. Mom was not okay. Motu took the hint and stopped coming in. We settled on Chotu to be allowed in at night. I have no memory of how this happened. I don’t think I’d be able to convince mom to do this today. But Chotu always had an allure. Motu was cleverer. Sharper. But Chotu had the allure.

And that’s how Chotu adopted us. By being naive, not taking the hint, and continuing to come in where she wasn’t wanted (at least by the matriarch).

Acceptance

If you’ve got a pet, the essential thing to do is to get them neutered so that they can’t reproduce. If you don’t, one cat can become 10 in less than a year. And 10 cats can become 100 in two. It’s a no-brainer. Pet and stray animals alike must be neutered. It’s the only and most effective way to avoid suffering and death.

But to convince someone hell bent against neutering is impossible. Here again I was at loggerheads with mom. She didn’t want me to get Chotu (or any animal) operated upon.

But this was a non-negotiable for me. And she supposedly didn’t even care about her. Why would she care about this now? I was the decision maker. I called up a local NGO, didn’t tell anyone else, and off Chotu went. I told them only after she’d gone. Mom wasn’t happy. But it was okay—Chotu was to be back in a week.

But she didn’t turn up. I called them up. She’d apparently removed her stitches and had to be kept for longer. I called them up again after a week. Chotu was pulling out the stitches and not letting the incision heal, they said. And then again after a week.

Mom says she really enjoyed her motherhood. She always wanted to be a mother. I’ll never understand why. This is probably why she cried when Chotu wasn’t brought back. The thought of a disappearing motherhood along with fearing the worst. In her mind, she had assumed that the operation had failed, Chotu was gone, and they weren’t telling me. I had never for a second thought along those lines. But now I did. I cried too.

And then they called. Chotu’s incision had healed and they were bringing her back. We weren’t home, we’d all gone to Churchgate with the extended family for lunch. It goes without saying, I didn’t care about the lunch. I only wanted to get home.

Our neighbour Edith aunty collected Chotu. The first time I saw her it was magical. She sat on the window, quiet, in her classic rabbit-like poise. She had lost some weight, but it didn’t matter. A part of her ear was missing, but it didn’t matter. She was back, in full heart and soul. And she would never go away.

We brought her home. And it was then that I knew. Chotu was ours. And we were hers.

There were so many little things leading up to this moment that could alter what happened. And I don’t even mean the operation itself. Today most NGOs charge a fair amount for neutering surgeries. They’re a pricey procedure even at NGOs! I don’t know if I would’ve been able to pay to get her neutered. Whoever knows what would’ve happened then.

Cat things

Motu was a sharp and clever cat. I’ve said it before. Like a good mom, she once caught a pigeon for Chotu and herself to feast on. Chotu was intrigued. She was fascinated. I was seeing her from the window. She pawed the dead pigeon. A pigeon is a light, feathery animal. If you paw the body, it’s going to move. We know that. Chotu didn’t. That momentary movement and flutter of the dead pigeon absolutely terrified her. I knew then that she was a cat but not really.

She did a number of cat things. She loved climbing heights. Trees, cupboards, even doors.

Chotu also loved chasing pieces of thread. At least in her young years. A classic move that we played was to first entice her with a long rope, get her full attention, then turn it around her in circles a good few times. She’d spin! And be dizzy after that. She must’ve caught on, or just lost interest in threads, because we didn’t do this too many times. It’s one of our golden memories of her antics.

When you’ve got a little cat at home, there’s something already inside that’s absolutely terrified. No, no. Not rats. Chotu was no good with rats. It’s the furniture. Cats absolutely destroy furniture and upholstery.

Well, so did Chotu. But we stopped caring about it. We had to. We couldn’t buy her a dedicated scratch stand, our flat was too small for that (also we were on minimal expenses). I was and still am surprised how we just accepted that our furniture would have cat scratches and upholstery loose threads. I’m surprised but so, so happy. I’d much rather have my little girl’s happiness than a smooth sofa cover.

Today, we remember Chotu as a quiet, unfussy cat. Especially in the last few years, she was as undemanding as any cat could be. She’d ask for food, let us know when she wanted to go to the toilet (aka an imli tree in our building, which we’d take her to), and come back on her own. Earlier, she’d just slip in from the windows. As she grew older, she didn’t enjoy slipping in from the windows. Then she began knocking the doors! She would scratch at it, and the first time we were creeped out at the sound of it. But then we were amused and impressed. Every time. We had a cat who was not only ladylike enough to prefer doors over windows, she also knocked.

But she could get loud as hell when she wanted to. She could really scream. She sometimes did, at night. I’ve been awoken a few times. Didi many more times. Partially because I’m a deep sleeper, and also because she would care more than I would in the middle of the night.

MIAAOW MIAAAOW MIAAAAOWW.

It was lovely. Her voice was sweet like honey. Even when she screamed. I know I’m all emotional right now, so you probably won’t take it seriously. But she had the sweetest cat voice there could be. And extremely emotive. We’d know if she was distressed, or pleading, or hungry, or just confused. I can think of her miaowing and just break down.

But most satisfying was her presence. She would sit with us. Sleep with us. She loved our blankets, she loved our tummies. She would enjoy just being there. She loved people. Not so much other cats. She’d rest her chin on our arm and just fall asleep.

Disjoint reflections

Animals do not disappoint. They’re always there. With people, we’re always wary. We know things can go off rails. People mess up all the time. With Chotu, I was all in. She was the love of my life, and I don’t exaggerate when I say that. She was permanent, everything else was temporary. Because I knew she would never disappoint. Our love was infinite.

I sometimes joked that it was only our Chotu miaow that was normal in our household. All us humans were weird and dysfunctional. Chotu kept it all together. She was the only normal person. We would talk to her, smother her, just like a little human. She would have her occasional loud miaows to remind us of her felinity every now and then.

She was a charmer. Everyone that spent the least amount of time with her was smitten. Our house help loved her. Our relatives loved her. An uncle spent a week with her last year because everyone was away. He moved in to our place for a week just for her. He said she would greet him every time he came home. Like no one else had ever done.

One of the few scares that Chotu has given us was back in 2016. The day was Sunday. I was in Hyderabad and had gone for a hike. My friend and I were resting on a rock, when didi called me and told me that Chotu was missing. She was a semi outdoor cat and we never stopped her from stepping out whenever she wanted. She’d gone and not come back.

They searched for hours. They looked on roofs and on trees but couldn’t find her. All I could do was wait with my heart in my mouth. I thought of all the places where she could’ve gone, and somehow it struck me that we must check the neighbour’s house. He was rarely home. She may have slipped in.

Before I could call my sister and ask her to check, I got a call. It was her. Chotu was in the neighbour's house. The curious cat must’ve gone in and not known how to come back out. But she did know how to scream, nice and loud. I was so relieved.

Towards the end

Chotu was always a long-time picky eater. She ate well as a kitten, but as she grew older, her interest in eating waned.

When she was a kitten, I would bring a small packet of cat food for her and Motu. It would be over in 20 seconds flat. For some time after she was back from sterilisation, and we were in the process of “adopting” her, we still had no food for her. As vegetarians, we had little in common diet wise with Chotu. Which is why her food messiah was Edith. We’d give her some rice and she’d mix it with fish and that would be her food, twice a day.

One of the fondest memories I have of Chotu is of her screaming her lungs out when she heard Edith outside our door. Her voice was enough. So was the sound of her door grill. Chotu would be off! She’d meow like mad and insist on going out to eat. Edith would give her food and Chotu would come back home. Of course, we started giving her cat food later on.

While Chotu did have one phase of being a heavy cat, she was a lean cat for most of her life. She didn’t eat a whole lot, and we often had to really encourage her to eat. Beyond her first year as a kitten, she was always ladylike around food. We would never be worried about her helping herself with any of our food lying open and uncovered, ever.

When Chotu first began eating less, a couple of months ago, we weren’t particularly worried. She also had teeth problems, it was just something that we had to live with. For about a month, her diet was affected. She ate well for two days, and then not so much again. She ate for a week, and then again stopped eating entirely. She lost weight.

That first trip to the vet constituted nervousness and hope. The vet’s initial assessment was that her teeth were paining way too much, which is why she couldn’t eat. Her haemoglobin was low, too. Her teeth would need to be extracted, but her haemoglobin was low, which meant that the procedure would carry an increased risk. She gave us painkillers for Chotu.

It took three people to feed Chotu the painkiller. Mom held her. Didi spoke to her and petted her. I shot the syringe into her mouth. It took about an hour. But that night, she ate like she was a kitten. The feeling was glorious. The entire week, she ate like it was her first year on earth. My joy was boundless.

In these last weeks, my mood was directly proportional to how much food Chotu ate. The vet soon informed us that it wasn’t just her teeth but also her kidneys that were off. There’s no cure. We just had to hope.

The next time Chotu stopped eating, we took the call to get her teeth removed. If she wasn’t eating because of her teeth, it would make only sense to do so. She would have to be put under general anaesthesia and there was a risk that she wouldn’t wake up. Her kidneys were too weak. But the girl weathered it through! They extracted 22 teeth. We had to feed her through a tube that went through her nose into her stomach, initially. But in a few days, she ate normally again.

Until she didn’t. She ate for about four days, before again losing all interest in food. This time I knew that this was it. She didn’t eat a single morsel for an entire day, and she would be too weak if she didn’t for another. I took her to the vet to get a tube installed again. That weekend was the last time she ever ate any food through her mouth.

This was not the life we wanted Chotu to live. Feeding her through the time was an acceptable temporary arrangement, but that’s all it was supposed to be. There were a lot of tears and a lot of weeping, but we took the call of hoping that she ate again, but not installing the tube again (it had to be removed after about a week) if she didn’t. We were preparing for her to go.

The end

I like to think that Chotu’s last few days were as comfortable as possible. I’d take her to the park everyday. She’d perch on my shoulder (she loved perching on people’s shoulders, that was her comfort zone) and we’d walk to the park a 30 second walk away. Then we’d just sit there in the grass, with curious people every now and then asking about her tube and showering pity (always annoying).

As non fussy as Chotu was, she was really stubborn about where she sat and slept. If she liked someplace, she’d spend all her time there. And this place kept changing. It would change from chairs to sofa to bedroom to random corner. Around this time, her territory was the general hall area. I missed her sleeping alongside me so much.

I spent the last few nights sleeping on the floor in the hall. The first night, she perched on my leg while I slept. In the morning, she was sleeping next to my leg.

It was Monday. It was about time to remove her tube. I fed her through the tube around noon. Her body rejected it. She vomited it all out. She had also begun drooling her stomach acid. After a couple of hours, I tried feeding her again. She was emaciated. This time, the acid wouldn’t stop.

I knew it was time.

Mom and I bawled while she readied herself to go. We bawled even though we knew that it was coming. Even if we had expected only a few days more with her.

I told Chotu we loved her. We would always love her. I held her paw and pet her in her favourite place below her neck. She stretched her neck in pleasure even while she was dying.

Chotu was the unfussiest of cats. But like I said, once she chose a spot she chose a spot. For her departure, she chose the loneliest, most inaccessible corner of the house, below the granite platform in front of the window, blocked by a potted plant. She’d never even stepped there before until two days ago.

And then she was gone. She breathed a few heavy breaths. I could hear them. She left with her eyes open. I let her know I loved her for the last time.

Just us

The most significant transformation that Chotu brought about was in mom. I remember one fight that we had had when Chotu was just a kitten, pre-sterilisation. Mom was disgusted by the idea of having a cat home and once ended up almost kicking Chotu when she came in her way.

“How could you do this to such a little being?”

“She shouldn’t be here in the first place. Get her out!”

As life does, mom spent the most time with Chotu than any of us. Sis would be at work. I was in Hyderabad. When I was away and mom told me she missed me, I’d ask her to go pet Chotu instead. She really would. Chotu and mom were secret buddies. They hung out together and alone.

When Chotu was first diagnosed with kidney disease, mom cried before any of us. When we took the risk of putting Chotu through surgery to extract her teeth, mom cried before I did. When Chotu was in her last moments, mom was there, crying, and praying.

Chotu was the invisible binder of our house. It didn’t matter if we had an altercation, if Chotu needed something, we had to work with each other to help her get it.

Mom is also probably the fastest to get over Chotu. She has her way of dealing with these things. Didi and I are going to take some more time. She was our little sister.

You know how in some movies, all the dead characters come back to life in the last scene, and they’re all happy and jolly? I’ve been imagining Chotu like that at times. Just laughing and meowing and running. Living life as she did. Oblivious of it all.

If only I could be awoken by her miaowing in the middle of the night again. One last time.