#wandering spleen

[jcmicr]

Spontaneous Rupture of Wandering Spleen: Case Report by Mina Alvandipour in Journal of Clinical and Medical Images, Case Reports

Abstract

Keywords: Spleen; wandering spleen; ectopic spleen; splenic rupture.

Introduction

A wandering spleen is a rare clinical occurrence with fewer than 500 cases reported and an incidence of less than 0.2% [1]. wandering spleen is caused by either extreme laxity or absence of the normal ligaments that anchor the spleen to the left upper quadrant. Gravity also plays a role by allowing the spleen to descend into the lower abdomen attached by its vascular pedicle [2]. Symptoms depend on the degree of torsion and range from chronic abdominal pain in mild torsion to acute pain in severe torsion and infarction. Accurate clinical diagnosis is difficult because of the rarity of the condition and non-specific symptoms. Radiological evaluation includes usage of ultrasound, Doppler, abdominal CT or MRI depending upon availability or preference [3]. A wandering spleen can be either congenital or acquired. In the congenital condition the ligaments fail to develop properly, whereas in the acquired form the hormonal effects of pregnancy and abdominal wall laxity are proposed as determining factors .However, the precise etiology of the wandering spleen is not known [1]. We present a spontaneous rupture of a wandering spleen with severe torsion and infarction and abdominal pain without any history of trauma.

Case Report

A 25 years old female present to emergency unit with 2 week history of progressive abdominal pain, recurrent constipation ,vomiting and loss of appetite. There was no history of melena, fever, and hematochezia and weight loss. On examination there was periumbilical and epigastria tenderness and a firm and tender mass in the right side of the abdomen without muscle guarding and rebound tenderness. The vital sign and laboratory results were all within the normal ranges, except decreased hematocrit (hemoglobin-8.4). The plain abdominal radiograph was un-remarkable while abdominal ultrasonography with color Doppler showed absence of spleen in its normal location in the left upper abdomen. Also it detects a heterogeneous hypoechoic capsulated mass with diameter of 175mm in right lower abdomen. Other organs of the abdomen were normal. Abdominal pelvic CT scan with and without contrast was recommended and findings was Absence of the spleen in its normal position in the left hypochondrium, and presence of large diameter mass (splenomegaly)in the right sub hepatic area(Wandering spleen) . Other organs of the abdomen were normal. Contrast-enhanced computed tomography (CECT) of the abdomen revealed whirlpool sign near the umbilicus. The splenic parenchyma showed abnormal enhanced areas, suggestive of splenic torsion and infarction.

A final diagnosis was wandering spleen with torsion of the vascular pedicle and infarction. The patient underwent a total splenectomy. During the laparotomy, an enlarged and infarcted mass was seen in right side of abdomen. The characteristic “whirlsign” can be seen in the area of the splenic vascular pedicle, indicative of torsion. Histological examination confirmed total infraction of the wandering spleen. The postoperative course was uneventful, and the patient was discharged on the 4th day after the operation.

Discussion

A wandering spleen is a rare but well-known entity. The incidence is < 0.2%. It is more common in females than males between the second to fourth decade of life and children [4]. Splenic weight >500 g in more than 8 out of 10 cases [5]. Interestingly, it has been reported that one out of three cases of wandering spleen appears in children bellow the age of 10 years old [7].

Wandering is characterized by splenic hyper mobility that results from elongation or mal-development of its suspensory ligaments. It is also known as aberrant, floating, displaced, prolapsed, ptotic, dislocated or dystopic spleen. Ectopic spleen, splenosis and accessory spleens are separate clinical entities and must be distinguished from it [5]. If the pedicle is twisted in the course of movement of the spleen, blood supply may be interrupted or blocked, resulting in severe damage to the blood vessels .Acute splenic torsion compromises venous outflow, which causes congestion and impairment of arterial inflow. Pain is originated from the splenic capsular stretching with rapid splenic enlargement and localized peritonitis [6]. Etiology is congenital or acquired. In case of congenital anomaly, a failure occur in fusion of the dorsal mesogastrium with the posterior abdominal wall during the second month of embryogenesis. Acquired risk factors that predispose to wandering spleen include pregnancy, trauma and splenomegaly [7]. Splenic torsion is usually clockwise. Complications of splenic torsion include: gangrene, abscess formation, local peritonitis, intestinal obstruction and necrosis of the pancreatic tail, which can lead to recurrent acute pancreatitis [8].

Wondering spleen had nonspecific symptoms such as abdominal pain that make diagnosis extremely challenging. As a result, radiologists play a major role in the diagnosis of this condition and its complications. Torsion may occur acutely and present with infarction or peritonitis. Chronic intermittent torsion can lead to pain, splenomegaly, and functional splenectomy. Contrast-enhanced computed tomography (CT) is the best imaging tool to make this diagnosis, although ultrasound may be used as well. Imaging findings on CT include identification of a spleen in an abnormal location, or with an abnormal orientation in the left upper quadrant. Often the wandering spleen is identified as a “comma” shaped mass in abdomen, with no normal left upper quadrant spleen [9].

Laboratory investigations are non-specific. Thrombocytopenia, through a mechanism of spleen enlargement secondary to compression of the splenic pedicle is rarely found [7]. The clinical presentation of wandering spleen is variable; it is either asymptomatic or noted incidentally during physical and radiographic examination or presents as acute abdomen due to torsion with subsequent infarction. The most common presentation is a mass with non-specific abdominal symptoms or intermittent abdominal discomfort due to congestion resulting from torsion and spontaneous detorsion [10]. Today, the only recommended treatment for wandering spleen is operation [7]. Splenectomy is indicated for infracted spleen and sometimes for huge splenomegaly precluding splenopexy. Splenopexy is the choice of treatment if the spleen is not infarcted [6]. Splenic preservation is highly recommended for young patients—those under one year of age up to those in their thirties—who are at particular risk for overwhelming post-splenectomy sepsis [10]. This should be appropriately followed up by the prophylactic vaccines against post-splenectomy sepsis syndrome. Ideally they should be administered before surgery; however, in emergencies this is not always possible [1].

Conclusion

In this case, splenectomy was done due to spleen infarction. Laparotomy was done in this case because of low experience at laparoscopy splenectomy. This report highlights the investigations and management necessary for a patient who presents with an ischaemic torted wandering spleen.

Acknowledgement: None.

Conflict of Interest: None.

Funds: None.

For more details : https://jcmimagescasereports.org/author-guidelines/ 

[thealexanderfiles]

Jason, to himself: If I can catch Tim off guard when he comes back from patrol he'll confess about breaking my favourite Wonder Woman's mug

Jason, as Tim wanders in: Got anything to confess??

Tim, very very high off Gotham Harbor fumes: Ra's pickled my spleen.

[deadsetobsessions]

Your name is Tim Drake and you are nine years old.

Today, tomorrow, and soon, you're going to save Robin.

----

Tim stares at his reflection on the sink tap. It trembles, along with the plane, as he contemplates his situation.

His face is rounder, now, with unfamiliar baby-fat rounding out the sharp lines he'd come to expect. Even with the subpar reflection, Tim can tell that his dark eyebags are all but gone, replaced with youthful skin.

Magic. He's being quite literal, seeing as he's been tossed into the body of his younger self at the hands of a crazed magician.

He could find a way back... or he could create a completely different timeline by fixing everything that went wrong. It's not like he has anything to go back to, anyways. That crazed magician was actually competent and killed everyone he ever cared about. Tim barely got away with his life. He could go back to save that shell of a world- surrounded by people whose minds were broken beyond magical and medical repair- or stay here, fix his own personal troubles and cut off the magician before he could start with his world domination bullshit.

Well, Tim already has an idea of what he wants. So he begins a list, after having oriented himself.

Save Robin

There's no point trying to convince Bruce that he knows where Jason's being held. So, Tim finds himself on a plane to Ethiopia a day before Jason's meant to die. This was long before Barbara even thought of being Oracle, and the tech is ancient in his hands. In short order, nine year old Tim has a trust fund with millions in it, all siphoned from billionaires like Lex Luthor and his own parents.

Tim toddles back to his seat, after washing his hands because he still can't shake the extra bit of paranoia that came with a missing spleen. Oh. Tim blinks guilelessly at his seat neighbor, smiling like Timothy Drake, Angel of a Son as he reels from the realization that he still has his spleen.

Tim adds another box to his list:

Keep Ra's away from my spleen, creepy bastard.

What else...? Ah, the League of Assassins.

Damian

Tim pauses. Holy crap. Damian's only six right now. Tim moves Damian's box upwards in urgency. Tim might have a mildly antagonistic relationship with his younger brother back then, but he wants baby pictures of his siblings, dammit. He's gonna put that photography expertise to good use if it's the last thing he does.

Watch over Z, Owens, Pru

'They're alive!' His mind screams. Cold rationality slaps the sentimentality down with a quick 'But they won't be if I fail.'

His mind wanders to Dick Grayson. He scowls as something pops up in the back of his head.

Catalina Flores

Contact Nightwing- in space

He's gotta call Dick back from that Teen Titans mission, Jason's gonna need all of the support he's going to get.

Find Cass

Train Steph

Save Duke's family from Venom

Tim taps at that last point. He'll save them. But that might mean Duke might never join their family.

But he'll be happy and Tim... will deal with it. He'll be the only one mourning, anyways. To end on a lighter note, he adds something that he should have done ages ago.

Give Tam a raise.

Tim sighs as he gets out of the airport, the hired escort he found and vetted, delivering him to a predetermined hotel. They think his parents are already inside. He laughs and does not say anything to make them think otherwise. He has so many things to do, Tim laments as he settles down to track the Joker's movements. Here. That's where Jason's being held. Being tortured.

He can, however, knock two things off his list in one go. Tim picks up the burner phone he acquired. He doesn't have time, or else he would have done this sooner and saved them all the trouble.

[RR: Are you in Ethiopia yet?]

[Deathstroke: Payment confirmed. In Ethiopia.]

[RR: Third building by the docks.]

An hour.

[Deathstroke: Confirmed. Target spotted.]

Ten minutes.

[Deathstroke: Target eliminated. Bringing Robin to Safehouse.]

Twenty minutes.

[Deathstroke: Basic first aid applied. Leaving.]

[RR: Secondary payment sent. Confirm?]

[Deathstroke: Confirmed. Pleasure doing business with you.]

Tim sprawls on the king bed. He sighs a breath of relief. He'd check on Jason in person, if he weren't paranoid about leaving traces that would get back to him. Tim's pretty sure that Deathstroke's going to get hunted down in the near future, regardless, so he made sure to add a huge tip on top of the extra fees for burning one of Deathstroke's safe houses and the emergency first aid. He taps into the rudimentary camera Deathstroke had given him the access codes to, to stare at Jason's rising and falling chest. On a further table, the Joker's head laid in a preservation box.

He bypasses all of the security on the Teen Titan's tech to send Dick a message.

[Robin has been retrieved from the Joker. Contact Batman for details.]

Then, he sends Bruce the location of the safe house. Tim spends the rest of the day staring at Jason and watching his father in another timeline break as he huddles close to the broken body of Tim's Robin.

Timothy Drake destroys the burner phone.

[storiesofsvu]

Solace in Solitude Ch 2

Emily Prentiss x reader warnings: language, medical/injuries talked about (i googled, don't come for me if they're not 100% right), hurt, minor anxiety, two buttheads not getting along.

You were right, Emily was exhausted. And she was annoyed. Both that she was so tired and that you had been right about it. Not that she expected to be full of energy bounding around the room, she’d just wanted to pull one up on you, prove that you were wrong, that she could and would do better. Instead she’d ended up sleeping most of the rest of the day, her brain still foggy, not fully able to pick up whatever French programs were playing on the television. With her attention lacking, she drifted off more than once, only waking up when a nurse was back in the room prodding at her body again. Her body ached, even just getting out of the bed and making it the eight steps to the bathroom winded her, which of course just made her more tired and even more annoyed.

This whole recovery thing sucked.

At least you weren’t so early on your rounds when you checked in on her today, she was awake, half paying attention to the television, a breakfast tray on the small table at the bedside.

“Morning Valerie.” You greeted with a smile, “how’re you feeling today?”

“Bout the same.” She grumbled.

“Have you managed to get up at all? Even within the room?”

“A couple of times.”

“Good.” You flipped open her chart, checking any additions since you’d left the night prior, “let’s keep that up for a few days and then we can start with trips down the hall, make sure your body’s up to it.”

“I didn’t think you meant it when you said I’d be this tired.”

“Yeah, anaesthesia can be a bitch like that.” You commented, checking a few of her vitals before you eyed the still full tray of breakfast, “not to mention your body needs fuel if it’s going to heal.” You moved back to the foot of the bed, scribbling into her chart, “you need to eat.”

“They’re withholding coffee.” She grumbled, sinking back into the bed.

“And you thought that warranted a hunger strike?” You huffed a laugh, “without a spleen you’re going to need to limit your intake of coffee, among other things. Didn’t a nurse drop off those pamphlets?”

“Yeah.” Her gaze drifted over to the bedside table where they sat untouched, she figured her life was already altered enough she could go another day without knowing every other change she would have to accommodate just to survive.

“Then eat.”

“Would you touch that?” She gestured toward the tray, wincing at the pain in her side as she did and you let out a soft sigh. The tray had a container of applesauce, a banana, a couple pieces of bread, “who eats jello for breakfast?”

“I would if I had just had my spleen and part of my stomach removed and it was advised and instructed by my doctor.” You cocked a brow in her direction as you continued to update her chart, she simply scoffed at you.

A nurse wandered in to check on a couple of things and make sure there was a large fresh bottle of water left on the table. You seamlessly swapped over to French while they were in the room, continuing to check in with Emily about how she was feeling, getting more specific on details and you checked over the stitches on her incision before the nurse finally left.

“Your French is really good.” You commented, readjusting her gown back down and loosely tucking the bedding in before peeling off your gloves, “you speak anything else?”

“I dunno.” She grumbled, rolling to face the window, “am I allowed to talk about that?”

“Ah.” Your lips pursed, holding back a sigh, “well, I’ve got some other patients to see. They can page me if you need anything and I’ll check on you before I leave. And you better have eaten something by then.”

Emily didn’t dare move; she didn’t dare breathe until she was certain the door was shut behind you before she suddenly let out the choke of a breath. Tears welled in her eyes and she couldn’t help as they rolled down her cheeks, not bothering to wipe them away, this didn’t just suck, this was absolutely horrible.

*

She’d barely managed to calm herself down by the next time a nurse came into the room, this time they seemed to be focussed on her breathing and heart rate. Whatever panic soaring through her was being reflected by the machines she’d forgotten she was hooked up to. The nurse talked her down until she felt like she could breathe again and Emily curled up on her side with her back to the door when it was suggested she try to eat something. There was a pit in the deep of her stomach, heavy and lingering, almost creeping through her body with waves of nausea and she was certain that food wouldn’t help with that, no matter what medical professionals said. Reaching out she hit the button to send more pain meds into her IV, the stifled cries and deep breaths sending shooting pains through her side, her hand gingerly clutching where the stitches were, moving to rub softly at the ache in her ribs. She didn’t want to be doing this, didn’t want to be here especially not like this, without someone by her side. The longer she was conscious the more memories she found were coming back to her, she could see the haze of Derek hovering over her as he pleaded for her to hang on. Penelope’s voice strangled with sorrow on the voicemail she’d left. If it hadn’t been for you mentioning a blonde she would’ve thought she was going crazy, that her mind was sending her some kind of guardian angel in the form of JJ while the ambulance sired blared, she could almost feel her hand in hers.

It had already been over three weeks and she couldn’t help but wonder if her team was already beginning to forget her. If she would be nothing but a long lost memory to them by the time she was finally able to get out of here. She caught herself spiraling, wondering if she ever actually would be allowed out of here, if she’d ever get the chance to go home, maybe this was supposed to be home permanently now.

*

You spent the majority of your day switching between the ER and the OR, there had been a couple of call ins of other doctors so you were actually kept relatively busy. A handful of smaller injuries, stitches to be done, tests to run to rule out worse conditions before sending them back home or off to a different specialty, an easy appendectomy to spice up your day with a little bit of surgery. You got outside for your lunch break, thankful to breathe the fresh air without the smell of hospital for an hour, it always helped you relax a little bit more. You’d been thumbing your way through a novel with the intention of getting a chapter or two in over the break but the words were all starting to blend together. After countless amounts of paperwork in French your brain was starting to not want to comprehend it anymore, practically begging to revert back to English. So you let out a soft sigh and closed the book, hopefully your afternoon would involve more cutting than paperwork.

Reluctantly, you returned back inside the hospital, checking through a few charts before you got called off to another surgery, thankful that you could immerse yourself into that and not have to worry about anything else for the next few hours. There were no issues, the patient pulling through perfectly before being sent off to recovery and you headed back to the nurses station to finish up on a few things. You made sure the chart was updated with details from the last surgery and assigned a nurse to keep watch on them overnight in case anything popped up.

The day was winding down and everyone could feel it, the extra excitement buzzing through the air thanks to it being Friday, chatter of weekend plans, date nights, family outings all around you. You were going through your patients charts to see how everyone had faired through the day and if there was anything you’d need to check up on before taking off, adding in notes here and there, signing off that you’d seen them. Across from you a few of the other doctors were wrapping up their own things, asking if the others were doing something that evening. When the resounding answer was no there was an invite for drinks, one that extended to another nurse as they walked up to the desk. Your eyes flitted up briefly but the group was so wound up in each other they barely even glanced your way and you huffed quietly. While everyone here was professional and approachable enough, they’d help out if you had questions or needed something but there was absolutely no interest when it didn’t happen within the four walls of the hospital. You’d been rather friendless for the past three weeks and you highly doubted that was going to change anytime soon.

Emily’s chart was the last one in your pile, the last thing you had to go through before you achieved freedom. Naturally, that became a bigger obstacle than you’d been hoping for. As you read through the updates from her day and checked through things you let out a frustrated groan, letting the chart fall shut before you tossed it back into the rack. Just as you pocketed your phone you heard someone speaking French but this time, actually directed to you.

“Your VIP girl?”

“Yeah.” You grumbled back in the same language, “turns out the ‘p’ is for pain in my ass.” They chuckled,

“Sucks. Goodnight.”

“Night.”

Gracing them with a friendly smile and a small wave you turned from the counter, wandering down to Emily’s room. As per usual, the door was shut, thinking maybe killing with kindness would help you gently knocked, waiting a moment before slipping into the space. Emily’s eyes flicked up from the book in her lap, practically glaring you down as the door swung shut behind you.

“Great. What’d you want?” She grumbled, looking back down to the book.

“You to realize that dumping your uneaten breakfast in the bathroom garbage doesn’t go unnoticed by the nurses.”

“Maybe if they weren’t so nosy.”

“Valerie you need to eat.” You let out a quiet sigh, folding your arms onto the table at the foot of her bed, “I know you might not be hungry yet but your body needs nutrients to heal properly, even if it’s just a couple of bites at a time.”

“Whatever.”

“You know, we see this a lot in people who have gone through traumas, that’s part of the reason I pushed for someone to come down from psych today.”

“That was you!?” Her gaze shot up to you, cutting you off instantly as she glared you down, her voice hardening as she spoke, “you sent in the shrink? Why would I need a shrink?! You’re being ridiculous.”

“I get that you’re upset, but you really don’t need to be mad at me about following hospital policy. It’s standard procedure for patients like yourself. At the very least, just let me make sure the paperwork reflects that we’re doing the right thing?”

“Paperwork said he was here, he was here. Believe me.”

“Okay.” You held up your hands in submission, “normally we do wait a week or so depending on everything else but considering the whole food thing I thought it might be worthwhile. Clearly I pushed too soon.”

“Yeah. You did.” She glared, “I’m fine.”

“Well… for what it’s worth I do think it’s a pretty good idea for you to talk to someone.” You stated, readjusting your stance against the table.

“Oh? So what, now you’re gonna shrink me?”

“Not my specialty.” You shrugged, “but if you decide to open up to me then so be it. Otherwise I can put the call in to psych and have someone come down again when you’re ready.”

“You want me to open up? Really?”

“That’s the general idea of talking to a shrink, yeah.” You nodded and her eyes narrowed in your direction, you could see the tension building in her body as she spoke.

“And how exactly am I supposed to do that when I’m supposed to pretend that I died a month ago? You want me to talk to someone about what happened that night but half my medical records are redacted, destroyed or simply don’t exist. When I woke up this morning? I couldn’t even remember the name that was on my hospital band, and you want me to be able to twist up some weird fake stories to help my mental state?!” Her voice shook, the raw emotion starting to break her cool façade, and she took a heavy breath, dropping back into the bed, “you say it was a car accident, it was a car accident.” She held up her hands to signal that that was it, “I clearly had a head injury, I don’t remember the details and I’m not about to do a cognitive interview on myself, okay?”

She picked up the book again but you could tell her eyes weren’t focussing on the words and you could see the shimmering of tears in them, knowing just how frustrated she felt. Emily truly didn’t understand how this was supposed to be helping, she just had to keep shoving everything down until this was all over, she was good at that, she could do that, but not if you kept prying into her life and shattering the illusion that it was going to be okay.

“Well,” you let out a sigh, “then I guess if you’re ever ready to talk, you really are stuck talking to me.” She didn’t reply, keeping her gaze on the book as she did her best to ignore you so you pushed off the table, “if you’re not gonna talk at least do me a favour and eat something. If you haven’t by the next time I see you I’m putting in a feeding tube, understood?”

“Sac a merde.” She muttered and you let out a small laugh.

“I’m fluent, remember?”

“Vai a fotterti.”

“Ah, Italian, now we’re getting creative.” This time she did look up, a glare still on her face as you pulled the door open, “eat your dinner.”

With that last warning you were gone from the room and Emily was left to let out an angry growl, tossing the book onto the bedside table. There was still a pit in her stomach but this one was beginning to gnaw away at her and she was starting to think maybe it was hunger related. She picked up the bottle of water to take a couple of sips, her eyes landing on the brochures one of the nurses had brought by earlier. Maybe if she read through them she’d understand what was going on with her body a little better, maybe it would make this easier.

*

Unlocking the door to your apartment you let out a sigh of relief, kicking off your shoes as you entered the code for the security system. You’d picked up dinner on the way home, you couldn’t be bothered to cook, not now, not with the limited amount of mental energy you had left. You needed a drink. A stiff one.

Keys were dropped on the counter along with your bag and dinner before you disappeared into your bedroom to change out of work clothes. Once you were cozy in a pair of shorts and a tank you padded through the apartment, tidying up a couple of things you’d left out during the busy work mornings. You pulled down a wine glass, filling it higher than usual with merlot, scooping up your phone and food to take out onto the balcony. This was one of your saving graces, the nightly ritual that had been to unwind out in the cooling air, taking in the views of the city as the sun sunk in the sky. It calmed you down after long days at the hospital and you certainly needed it tonight. This entire project had been one you’d been apprehensive of from the start but you’d at least had time to let things sink in, to get used to the new routine in a new place. It had been considerably easier when Emily was still unconscious and you let out a groan at the thought of having to deal with her again in the morning.

A chorus of laughter burst from down in the street below and you felt a wave of melancholy shoot through you, thinking about the others from work out on the town tonight. You understood being on the outside and you understood why you were, but it would be a lie to say that some nights it didn’t get a little lonely. You’d thought that maybe you and Emily would’ve bonded over that, being trapped in a life that you didn’t necessarily want. That you’d be friends, have each other’s backs until this whole thing was over. You took a hefty swig of wine, shaking your head at yourself, at how naïve and ridiculous you’d been. She wasn’t going to be your friend, that was for sure, it was almost like she blamed you for waking up in Paris, like you had personally made the call and lugged her halfway around the world yourself. Your gaze drifted out onto the horizon, watching the last few rays of sunlight dancing through the sky as you let out a small sigh. You’d let her keep playing the victim card a little longer, after all, she did have the reason to be miserable. You knew she’d tire out of it eventually and come around, it would just be a test of willpower to see how long it would take her to cave.

At least you weren’t trapped in a hospital bed. You had some sense of freedom around the city, a freedom she was likely jealous of and that certainly wasn’t helping things. Hopefully things would change once she was discharged.

________________

@mickey-gomez @momlifebehard @daddy-heather-dunbar @maybe-a-humanbean @rustyzebra @ilovemycrayons @mandy-asimp @leftoverenvy @kades95 @dextur @supercriminalbean @daffodil-heart @its-soph-xx @just-a-torn-up-masterpiece @hopelesslyfallenninlove @peanutbutterprincess @emilyprentisssluvr @lex13cm @zizzlekwum @emobabeyy @riveramorylunar @s1ut4nat @scorpsik @prentiss-theorem @strongsassysexysloane @happenstnces @sapphicprentiss @geekyandgay98 @pagetboobstarcomments @onmykneesformarvel @inlovewithemilyprentiss @desperate-gay @amypoehlfey @overtrred28 @theclassicgaycousin @regalmilfs4me @kalixxh @ara-a-bird @five-bi-five-mind @niyizh @inlovewithmiddleagewomen @tommyriddleobsessed @hotchs-bitch @ollysmulti @iluvsreid @kmc1989

[fiercynn]

palestinian poets: george abraham

george abraham (they/he/هو) is a palestinian american poet, performance arist, and writer who was born and raised on unceded timucuan lands (jacksonville, FL). their debut poetry collection birthright (button poetry) won the arab american book award and the big other book award, and was a lambda literary award finalist. he is also the author of the chapbooks al youm and the specimen's apology. their collaborations include co-editing a palestinian poetry anthology with noor hindi (haymarket books, 2025), and a performance art project titled EVE with fargo nissim tbakhi. 

they are a recipient of fellowships from kundiman, the arab american national museum, the boston foundation, the national performance network, and the MAP fund, and more. their writing has appeared in poetry magazine, the nation, the american poetry review, guernica, the baffler, the paris review, mizna, and many other journals and anthologies. a graduate of swarthmore college and harvard university, they have taught at emerson college, and are currently a litowitz MFA+MA candidate in poetry at northwestern university. he is also currently executive editor of the whiting award-winning journal mizna.

you can follow them on twitter @IntifadaBatata.

IF YOU READ JUST ONE POEM BY GEORGE ABRAHAM, MAKE IT THIS ONE

OTHER POEMS ONLINE THAT I LOVE BY GEORGE ABRAHAM

Field Notes on Terror & Beginnings at poetry daily

Love Letter to the Eve of the End of the World at the margins

Of Nation, at rusted radishes: beirut literary and art journal

Searching for a Palestinian After at the nation

Stage Directions for a Representation in which Eve and Adam travel through their first checkpoint at mosaic theatre company

the ghosts of the dead sea are rising at the drift

ars poetica in which every pronoun is FREE PALESTINE at the margins

“from UNIVERSAL THEORY IN WHICH EVERY FAILED ATTEMPT AT LOVE IS A SOULMATE FROM AN ALTERNATE TIMELINE” at fiyah literary magazine

Ode to My Swollen, Mono-Infected Spleen at brooklyn poets

The Olive Tree Speaks of Deforestation to my body at crabfat magazine

arab/queer vs. Imaginary at shade literary arts

self-portrait with second-degree sunburn at

[ summer / winter ] is the worst time to lose a [ country / lover ] at wildness

maqam of moonlight, for the wandering at the rumpus

against perturbation at the scores

apology, at cordite poetry review

i also adore this 2021 essay of abraham's at guernica magazine called teaching poetry in the palestinian apocalypse: towards a collective, lyric "i".

[bearlytolerant]

Fandom: Starfield, Pairing: Delgado x OC, CH Rating: M, AO3

Chapter One Excerpt:

Nothing but purple neon and red fluorescent haze. Grease and residual moisture that smells like fish and fuck—he can barely make out the toe of his boot in Neon’s smog. He flicks his cigarette to the ground and stomps it out. Another piece of shit to add to the littered street smelling like piss-fried-fish.

Delgado leans up against the railing and reads the word spleen in pillowy white letters, outlined in black and painted lime green on the inside like it’s a fucking party to sell your organs for snake oil in the dark recesses of the alleys. The back door swings open, slamming against the wall. The draft clears some of the haze and his boots are as black and shiny as ever. He doesn’t startle when his neighbor steps out into the alley too. Cigarette pinched between her fingers and she lifts it to her mouth before she catches sight of him in her peripheral.

“Shit.” A fumble and his reflexes aren’t too slow as he snatches it mid air. “Didn’t see you there,” she says.

“It’s so goddam smoggy, can’t see shit out here.”

“Can’t disagree. Should probably check my surroundings a bit better next time though.”

She leans toward him expectantly and he places the cigarette between the pretty plum stain of her lips. Pulls out his lighter and gives it a flick, lighting up the end in an amber glow.

“Thanks,” she mutters.

“Least I can do.”

“I’m Verity by the way,” she says, the two of them looking up at the smoky air where they both know Neon City locals and visitors alike are wandering the grated walkways high above. Instinctively they press themselves closer to the wall. Never know when someone’s going to spew spit or the contents of their gut from a nauseating Aurora-alcohol combo.

In sync, they cast their eyes to the ground.

“Delgado,” he tells her.

[latibvles]

hi poet!! can i request "fireworks" for june? :) so excited to see what you come up with!

##19 — fireworks

that one video of gumbull crying montage but it's me talking about June Cielinski. I'm on a DeMarco kick. Here's more of them. Please support me in these trying times. send me a prompt for the bomber girls!

—

The sound of the air raid siren is unwelcome — chills her straight to the bone actually. That long droning — only broken up by Viv clapping her shoulder twice, shaking her until she moaned in sleep-induced protest: up and at ‘em, June. We’ve gotta get to the shelters.

It was dark out, but there’s movement all around her. June doesn’t have a hard time keeping up with hers. Ahead of her Inez is pressing a hand into Harrie’s back, urging her forward as she marvels at the light show. Behind her, she can hear similar shouts of people telling each other to move and hit the shelters. It’s all too much noise for the middle of the night — she figures her own grogginess is what makes the whole thing feel less like an emergency at the moment and more like an inconvenience. A neighbor being too loud through the walls on a schoolnight. She tries to justify it, internally, with the fact that the explosions are far enough off that they wouldn’t hit Thorpe Abbotts.

Hopefully.

It only takes her bare feet hitting the duckboards for her to decide she hates this: hates it more than trudging through the wet grass to get over here, more than being up at this hour. This waiting, sitting and watching Norwich go up into flames. The word cowardly crosses her mind, briefly, as the ground shakes beneath her. Only a coward bombs at night. You can’t even aim right. She can feel the irritation she’d garnered at being woken up transmutate into what always felt, to her, to be a more righteous anger of sorts. The thing that made her want to jump in a Fort and drop bombs.

Her hands curled into tightly wound fists — she shuts her eyes, unable to watch for too long.

The sound reminds her, vaguely, of the Fourth of July. The silence of the trench feels a little louder as they all watch in some twisted sense of wonder and anxiety. If she lets her mind wander beyond here, she’s six years old again, sandwiched between her two brothers on the porch, watching colorful explosions light up the sky, stretching up and past the buildings that seemed to poke at the stars. Piotr would be covering her ears. She hated the sound as a kid.

Come to think of it, June could also fall asleep standing, which is a little embarrassing, so she opens her eyes again to keep from wobbling.

In time with her opening her eyes, she hears a high pitched whine, feels a wet nose pressing her lower thigh and her stomach drops as she looks down. Meatball has elected to take a seat right by her, looking at her with ears pinned back. He goes back to licking her knee in an almost frantic way, whining as the ground shakes beneath them.

“Jesus Christ, Meatball,” June crouches down, reaching to pet at his head, brows furrowed as she looks this way and that for his owner. “We’ve really gotta stop meeting like this, buddy.”

No doubt, Benny was probably losing his mind right about now. She has half a mind to go looking for him with the dog in tow when she hears the repetitive excuse me’s and sorry’s accompanied by mildly irritated groans of his name as Meatball’s rightful owner weaves through the other people in the shelter. By the time Benny is upon them, she’s already deduced where he’d be coming from. They lock eyes the moment he spots them.

“He didn’t crush your spleen this time, did he?” He offers, half a joke and half a worry that he’d caught her offguard.

“No, but I had to stage an intervention so he wouldn’t lick my leg raw,” she continues to scratch at Meatball’s head as Benny approaches, standing just behind her as she straightens out. “I don’t think he likes the noise.” Benny looks down at his friend with a frown, reaches to give him scratches of his own that have Meatball leaning into both of their hands, seeking the comfort of it.

“Me neither buddy,” Benny agrees. June turns around at that point, but she’s hyper-aware of his position adjacent to her. Even if she wasn’t, Meatball is still insistent on pressing against her thigh. It’s not like they’re really supposed to be running up and down the trench anyway.

Silence again — the silence of the trench somehow louder than the sirens, but also some sort of tentative quiet shared between them that makes June’s stomach turn a bit. Rarely did she ever get nervous, but the proximity had her palms sweaty. Rarely, did she ever have a need to talk, to say something just to hear a response.

This time, inexplicably, she did.

“Sounds like fireworks.” June says, offhandedly. Benny scoffs, something light and disbelieving behind her, the ground shaking beneath them in an attempt to disprove her opinion.

“Y’think?”

“Shut your eyes. Sounds almost exactly the same.” She challenges with a small shrug.

Benny lets out a small sigh and an “if you say so”— she turns and watches as his eyes flutter shut, a puff of breath escaping his lips as he does so. June could look away after that, but she doesn’t. She can’t help but stare at him right about now. Dark lashes, dark brows, strong jaw — she thinks she might need to get her head checked. He’s… handsome, lit up by flashes. There’s gotta be something seriously wrong with her, for that to be the first thing that crosses her mind.

It’s when his lips start curling into that smile of his that June forces herself to look away, feeling that she’s somehow intruding on him now. Of course, Benny has smiled at her a million times and it always managed to put her on the right side of annoyed. Not this time though.

Maybe that’s why it feels like an intrusion. Maybe he’s the one intruding.

“Alright. You win. Can I open my eyes now?” He only sounds mildly inconvenienced. June bristles, folds her arms over her chest, and tries to find something else to fix her stare on that isn’t the bombs.

“Do what you want, I’m not your boss,” And Benny snorts at her quick remark. And she’s thankful for the dark, for the fact that it’ll adequately hide her now, flushed cheeks.

[spookyson]

Ummm literally just made an account and have no idea how this works. Then found this wip in my docs. I have no idea where I was going with it but it will now see the light of day. Omg I didn't even proofread it pls ignore my typos.

Tim woke up in a bed that was not his own.

Not unusual. He sometimes slept in his parents’ bedroom. It smelt like them and would sometimes feel like being with them. But this wasn’t any bedroom that Tim knew.

It was bigger than his room, with navy walls and dark curtains that covered a window larger than the one he was used to. It was also empty, with a few necessities furnishing the sparseness. Tim’s bedroom had never known emptiness after Mrs Mac had given up on it when Tim was 9. 

There were some clothes on the ground. Which was something. He sat up, pucshing off teh soft blanket that gathered at his waits. His bare feet hit the carpeted floor as he continued his research. The clothes on the ground were too big for him. A collared white shirt and charcoal slacks. He found a tie of matching colour under his bed. It reminded him of Dad, this was the sort of thing he wore when he went to the office. 

He looked to the closet and found nothing else. More shirts and ties in different shades, a pair of dress shoes, and a plain yellow hoodie. He didn’t know these clothes. Tim glanced down at his current outfit, a loose black shirt with Superman’s symbol on it and a pair of sweatpants he’d folded three times at the hip for them to stay on. The shirt was something he would wear, so maybe…

Batman had protocols for time travel. Nothing that he had ever explicitly told Tim since he was way too busy devising ways to make Tim quit, but files that Tim had read over when he had a minute to spare, The rules were fairly simple, should he go back in time, he was not allowed to inform anyone he knew of the future nor could he change anything. Things were a bit loose on how to proceed if he traveled to the future, but not to ask any questions and seek the quickest way back home was the best summary of the lengthy text. 

And, it looked like he was at Wayne Manor. So Batman must be around. He would know how to fix this. And, would Tim be able to meet himself? The adult version?

He fights the urge to grin as he tugs open the bedroom door and makes his way to the cave on silent feet. Batman find it unprofessional. Tim’s never actually been in the family wing before, so he goes into the wrong room. It’s an office, but not Bruce’s. There’s a desk in the middle of the room, a whiteboard tacked to one large wall and an old couch near the doorway. Tim wanders inside. He’s never seen it before. There’s an open laptop on the table, so Tim goes there first. It’s likely locked, and he’s not surprised when he finds a neutral blue screen asking the pincode, what’s actually surprising is the person ID. Tim Drake. This is his laptop. 

He doesn’t know why but the first number that comes to him is the day he learnt how to ride a bike. It was nothing super amazing. Some of the other kids in class could do it with no hands, or do wheelies. But Tim was proud. He had figured it out on his own, his father didn’t need to teach him. It baceme the most important date to him for a while.

He taps in the numbers with hesitant fingers and presses the enter key. It’s accepted.

The laptop opens on a video.

“Shit,” says a much older Tim. “You must be 14. Oh god.” 

So there's been some manner rouge attack and the outcome of said rounge attack is that Tim's been deaged to 14. Tim is also Red Robin. Tim also doesn't have a spleen. There may also be ninjas attacking him at random in order to seduce him to their evil immortal overlord's side and likely into his bed. He's also the CEO of Wayne Enterprises. 

"Yeah, I get that it's a lot. But uh, we've always had to deal with a lot, huh? This is a little different from usual, but eh semantics. So, if you're ever confused about anything, find the phone under your pillow and call a person named Pru, she can help you out with any Leaugue of Assassins business and call Kon if it's about anything else."

Big Tim smiles and it's shocking how similar he looks to Tim. He's not s chubby, he's got sharper eyes and cheekbones and his hair is longer than anything Tim would dare to try, but his smile is the same. It's a little joking, a little happy, and just like the thing Tim had seen on the surface of the Batmobile when Batman told him he did a good job at patrol. 

"But you're me, so you got this," says Big Tim. He suddenly looks up over the camera and his expression fades into something neutral. Two seconds pass, Tim hears a door close. "Also, you should get out of the manor as quick as you can. That place wasn't safe for me and it isn't safe for you now. Jason Todd is alive and he hates us. Avoid the Robin in a katana, he's got it out for us too. Bruce can't keep us safe" - Tim notes a miniscule shift in the muscles of Big Tim's jaw - "or won't, if it's possible, he's even harder to read now. Dick is…"  Tim watches as his face falls and something that looks alarmingly like a tear wells up in his eyes. "Dick is… We're not the most important thing to him. Don't count on him to have your back, it's better if you ditch before he sees you."

There's a lot to think about. And before he has the time to give any idea in those last few sentences any serious thought. The Tim on screen is already moving on. 

"Address, phone, laptop and everything else should be in the hidden compartment above your bed. Feel around for the switch. Get to the apartment and send an email to Tam Fox, use the words 'I am unwell and cannot make it to the office. Please postpone my meetings and cancel the order' she'll know what that means. That should be everything. Good luck, kid. " 

The screen cuts to black and Tim's up and moving before he can stew on the contents of the video for too long. It was a selfish thought anyway, that Bruce and Dick and Alfred woul ever love him. He's the replacement for a dead boy, it would have been impossible to live up to him, Tim doesn't know why he tried. And oh god, Jason Todd hates him. The back of his throat burns and he gulps down a swallow, unwilling to let the sounds of his sob infect the silent manor. His hero hates him. The boy he loved the most in the world hates him. 

Dick Grayson was an ideal. Something perfect and untouchable, he wasn't actually. Nobody was perfect, But the first Robin and now Nightwing had always given off the aura of untouchable idealility. He was the example to follow, the person everyone strove to be or wanted to be near. In his brief stint as Robin, Tim noticed how he drove people towards them. Bruce didn’t know it, but he was lighter when Dick was around, and Barabara was more likely to join patrols. The older Titans gravitated around him, like planets in his orbit, a product of long-term trust and friendship, but even strangers seemed to know that Dick was all that is good. 

Of course, Tim knew that he could never replace Jason as his brother, but in the deepest part of his heart, he had always hoped to become family adjacent. That one day Dick would look at him with the same softness he only reserved for Bruce and Alfred. To know that he could not even trust him… Well, that hurt more than he thought possible.

Through some miracle of God, Tim didn’t cry and managed to find the hidden compartment above his bed. In a square hole the size of a small cabinet he found a slim laptop, a phone, and a thick stack of money bound together by a rubber band. There were no clothes he could switch into, but this Gotham was likely similar to his Gotham, no one would bat an eye at a boy wearing oversized clothes. He found some sneakers in the closet, too big, but he fit them over his feet anyway and snuck out of his room for the second time. 

Silence reigned supreme in the manor, bearing an uncanny resemblance to Tim’s house. Big Tim said his house was destroyed in the aftermath of an earthquake that changed a lot of Gotham’s cityscape. The address he found on the phone in his hand was somewhere in the middle of the city, so the second thing he did was call for an Uber in the most silent voice possible. The person on the phone informed him of a twenty-minute wait, which would be plenty of time for Tim to escape Batman’s house and wait outside Drake manor.

The phone was shoved into pockets of his sweatpants, while the money and the laptop rested in a bag he had discovered, and after much exploration, he found what looked to be a family room. 

Tim cursed. This may take longer than his estimated time. He set off down another promising hallway, only to stutter to a stop when he heard voices.

“So? ‘S he alright? Baby bird took a pretty bad hit,” says a voice. It’s rough, like the voice of a smoker, and possesses a thick Crime Alley accent. Male. 

Tim feels his heart stop when he hears the first man’s companion respond. “Alred says he’s healthy, so we moved him up to his room. Timmy should be waking up soon.”

It’s Dick. No no no- He’s supposed to be avoiding Dick. That’s what Big Tim said to do. He shouldn’t be here. He should be moving. 

It’s all for naught because that’s when the men turn the corner and run right into Tim. He runs a quick glance over them. Tall, muscular, and big. One’s bigger than the other and has a white streak through his hair. The other is… it’s Dick. Older, with more lines near his eyes and mouth, but the same person he saw at patrol earlier (or later, depending on who you asked) that day. 

The person who didn’t love him. Who didn’t even like him maybe? 

Tim can’t help it. When their eyes widen and older Dick takes a step toward him, he bursts into tears.   

[aloneinthehellfire]

Chapter 5: Part 2: Don't Go Wandering In The Forest

Raining Hellfire Series | Season One

Word Count: 4,060 words.

Warnings: swearing, flashbacks to past trauma, , mentions of blood, animal death, horror elements in this so please be cautious when reading this (near the end)

[A/N: Part 2 since this chapter was sooo long. it's my fault for wanting reader to interact with the kids and the teens but I hope you like this chapter. spot the teen wolf reference lmao]

Part 2: Don't Go Wandering In The Forest

“Here.”

You handed Nancy the bat you had found by your front door.

You were sure you had another but it was buried under your porch somewhere from when your uncle had been drunkenly swinging it around the front yard and somehow spun it straight under the house. It was going to take a hot minute for you to fish it out.

“Thank you.” She smiled, “Hey. I… I get it. I’m sorry that I’ve been a bit distant with you, I just- I really need to find Barb.”

“I know.” You placed a hand on her shoulder. “And we will. I promise.”

She suddenly pulled you into a hug, dropping the bat on the ground and you held on like your life depended on it. You had to admit, you missed having a best friend.

“Okay! Okay.” You giggled, pulling away, “I now need to go digging through the black hole that is my uncle’s porch.”

“Have fun.” She sang sarcastically and she picked up the bat, trying to find the right grip to swing it with.

You shook your head with a smile and walked back over to your uncle’s. Staring at the raised flooring, you got down on your hands and knees. It was a little muddier than you imagined and you cursed under your breath.

You were wearing a thick pair of jeans you had pulled from your aunt’s closet (you seriously needed to expand your own) and a grey jean jacket that’s design had faded away from time. You just had on a yellow long-sleeved tee beneath it to keep the cold out. It was too big on you but the jacket hid its size. You didn’t remember owning a yellow top but you had found it buried under your bed so it was good enough.

And, since it was cold out, you wrapped your neck in a thin scarf. Just to be safe.

You winced slightly as your knees met the muddy floor but you figured you’d just wash them later. You then slid under the porch, reaching your arm out and patting around, exploring the space until you came across a wooden shape. Bingo.

“I swear to god, if a spider jumps out at me…” You muttered as you grabbed onto the bat and pulled it towards you.

“That would be funny.”

The unexpected voice caused you to jump, banging your head on a beam above you in shock.

“Shit!” You whispered.

“Shit. Sorry, here.” They put an arm around you and helped you up, making sure you didn’t bang your head again.

“Thanks.” You said, brushing the dirt off you. You looked up and rolled your eyes as an involuntary response. “Harrington.”

“Good to see you too.” He smirked.

“Surprised you even had time to go outside with all that effort you’ve put into your hair today.” You smiled sarcastically as he sighed.

“Where’s Nance?” He placed his hands on his hips.

“Hm, I don’t know!” You were certainly putting on a one-woman show for sarcasm, “Have you tried looking in the open garage that gives you full view of a certain someone?”

“Can you just be nice for once? Would it kill you?”

“Heart attack. Spleen rupture. Heck, even a brain aneurysm.” You smirked.

“You are so dramatic.” He sighed again, looking at the open garage.

“At least my hair doesn’t add 12 inches to my height.” You shrugged, swinging the bat to rest on your shoulder.

“Taking up an actual sport are we?” He pointed at the baseball bat.

“Yeah, it’s called ‘whack-a-dick’. Wanna play?” You said, swinging the bat back around and pretended to aim it at him.

“You’re a horrible person, you know that?”

“Yes, it keeps me awake at night.”

“Y/n.” He took a step towards you, lowering your bat with the tip of his finger, “Can we please just have a serious conversation.”

“Sure, Harrington.” You tilted your head at him. “How can I help you?”

“Uh…” He suddenly looked very nervous, sending indiscrete glances to the garage. “Nancy. Is she… okay?”

“Why don’t you ask her yourself?”

“I don’t even know if she wants to talk to me.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“You won’t know if you don’t try.” You said and he gave you a look. “Nancy needs communication. Support and communication. Just… apologise. It’s the best thing for you to do in this situation if you genuinely care.”

“I do. I’m so sorry.” He nodded quickly.

“Do I look like Nancy? Go tell her that.” You nudged him towards the garage, shaking your head.

He gave you a nod and walked in. You had to admit, you were curious. Should you be spying on their conversation? No. But the garage door was wide open, you couldn’t help it if you overheard something.

“Whoa, whoa, hey, whoa, whoa.” You heard Steve trying to avoid Nancy’s not-so-amazing batting skills.

“What are you doing here?” Nancy exhaled.

“What are you doing? Why does everyone have bats?”

“Nothing.” Nancy said. You understood why she didn’t want to involve him.

“I hope that’s not meant for me.” He chuckled.

You heard their voices calm and quieten and you decided it best to leave them be. You walked to Nancy’s porch and sat down on the steps, playing with the baseball bat. You were kidding yourself if you thought a baseball bat would protect you from a monster.

Still hearing Nancy and Steve’s muffled voices, you sighed and decided to lay on your back, your leg bent into a comfortable position. As much as you hated their relationship sometimes, you thought they made a some-what good couple. Obviously they still had a few things to work out but damn they definitely had something. You couldn’t ignore the way Steve looked at her. That boy was willing to protect her no matter the cost. Granted, he went about it in an unnecessary way but that’s what love does to you. It’s a powerful thing. Which means it’s also a dangerous thing.

You thought back to Eddie. How every time you were together, you felt happy. Happier than you have felt in a long time. You didn’t know if it was love. Deep down, you didn’t think you were capable of that. But after the kiss, your instinctive need to protect him and the thousands of butterflies you felt in your stomach every time you looked at him. You were definitely falling for him.

“Woah. Have you been body-snatched because I don’t remember you being programmed to actually smile.” His voice tore through your peaceful silence.

“Fuck off, Harrington.” You said, not bothering to move.

“With pleasure. Have fun doing… whatever the hell you’re doing.”

You tilted your head to glance at Steve making his way down the street. Judging by how he was walking, the talk must have gone well.

“Y/n? You ready?” Nancy walked up to you, baseball bat by her side. You picked up your own and went to her side.

“No.” You laughed, “Let’s go see if Jonathan knows how to use a gun.”

Jonathan had no idea how to use a gun.

When you and Nancy had arrived, you saw that he had set up cans along some logs, firing the gun at them. And he missed every single one of them.

“You’re supposed to hit the cans, right?” Nancy asked you, loud enough for Jonathan to hear.

“No, actually, you see the spaces in between the cans? I’m aiming for those.” Jonathan smirked, making you laugh.

“Ah.” Nancy chuckled, setting her bag down.

“Well if the creature is ever hiding between cans, I’ll call you.” You nudged his shoulder, making him laugh.

“Either of you ever shot a gun before?” Jonathan held the gun in his hands, offering it to you both.

“Once.” You admitted. It was a long time ago.

“Have you met my parents?” Nancy chuckled softly, hands in her pockets.

“Yeah, I haven’t shot one since I was ten. My dad took me hunting on my birthday. He made me kill a rabbit.” Jonathan sighed as he reloaded the gun.

“A rabbit?” Nancy questioned, looking up at him.

“Yeah. I guess he thought it would make me into more of a man or something. I cried for a week.” He admitted.

“Yep, fathers are just great.” You muttered to yourself, twisting the bat around in your hand.

“Jesus.” Nancy breathed.

“What? I’m a fan of Thumper.” He chuckled.

“I meant your dad.” She corrected.

“I guess he and my mother loved each other at some point, but…” Jonathan cocked the gun, “...I wasn't around for that part.”

Nancy handed you her bat while she pointed to the gun, wanting to give it a go.

“Um, yeah.” He handed it over carefully. “Just, uh, point and shoot.” He nodded.

“Wow. That’s some serious teaching there.” You commented.

“Shut up.” He chuckled, nudging you. “I just poured my heart out there.”

“Yeah, sorry about that.” You smiled thinly. You remembered how it was between your own parents. You never quite understood why they were ever together.

“I don’t think my parents ever loved eachother.” Nancy added. You nodded slowly. Ted and Karen were nice people but their marriage just seemed… off.

“They must’ve married for some reason.” Jonathan suggested.

Nancy raised her arms, aiming the gun. “My mom was young. My dad was older, but he had a cushy job, money, came from a good family. So they bought a nice house at the end of the cul-de-sac... and started their nuclear family.”

“Screw that.” She finally said, shooting the gun. You watched the beer can clatter to the ground and you all laughed in surprise.

“Nice.” Jonathan commented. They both looked at eachother for a while. When you finally noticed, you started to panic slightly. Nancy used to look at Steve like that.

“Well.” You cleared your throat, snapping their focus over to you. “That was fun. Now what?”

“I suppose we should practice a bit more.” Jonathan nodded awkwardly, moving out of the way so Nancy can keep shooting.

“I think Y/n should give it a go.” Nancy smirked, handing you the gun. “You said you’ve used it before?”

“Once, Nance. I wouldn’t be any good at it now.” You were nervous, clearly. Your grip on the bat tightened.

“Just in case.” She whispered, sympathy in her eyes.

“Fine.” You dropped the bat and grabbed the gun, adjusting your hand to hold the weight.

“You can even give a rant about your parents.” Jonathan chuckled, “It helps.”

“There’s not much to say.” You aimed the gun at the middle can.

“You’ve never spoken about them.” Nancy said quietly next to you. “Never to me, anyway.”

You felt a twinge of guilt in your stomach. You weren’t sure why you felt guilty, it was your life after all. But you’ve kept so much from her that you were certain she didn’t know you at all.

“Uh… well…” The gun trembled a little and you steadied your hand, taking a breath. “They were young when they met, fell in love, had a kid… all that usual stuff. But after a while, they were struggling. No money. My dad lost his job and started doing other, uh, stuff, I guess. Not exactly legal. My mom, she… distracted herself.”

You had lowered the gun, your chest tightening as you confessed. Nancy put her hand on your shoulder and you raised the gun again, continuing.

“Long story short, they gave up. Gave up on eachother. Gave up on the kid…” You squinted, finger on the trigger. “Sent her away.”

You fired the gun and the can was knocked down.

“Wow, would you look at that. I’ve still got it.” You chuckled sadly, handing the gun back to Nancy. “I, uh… I’m gonna have a look around for a bit. See if I can figure out where to start looking considering all the ground we have to cover.”

“Y/n…” You heard Nancy begin to speak but you had already grabbed your bat and wandered to the edge of the woods.

“Your father is just trying to protect you!” Your mother screamed, clutching her can of beer.

“Mom! He gave me a gun! I’m literally in middle school and he wants me to join his illegal scamming club!” You yelled. The gun your father had given you was led on the kitchen table, your mom doing everything to not look at it.

“Don’t say that!” She drunkenly pointed a finger at you, her words slurred slightly, “Your father is just doing what he can to earn some money, stop being dramatic. It’s safe”

“It’s safe? SAFE?” You grabbed the gun, pointing it at nothing in particular. Even just holding it made you terrified, “If it’s so safe then why am I being trained to use a gun? Huh?”

“I don’t care.”

Your breath hitched and you set the gun back down. She just glared at you as your eyes stung.

“Fine.” Was all you said as you grabbed the gun and walked back outside.

Your father was waiting in the car. He had told you that it was your own choice to go with him. You looked back at the house and saw your little sister nervously looking out of your bedroom window. You looked away. You would never be doing this if you knew your father wouldn’t use your sister to get what he wants instead.

He didn’t care about you. Neither of them did.

So you got in the car. And you hated every single second of what was to come.

You found where you sighted the creature last.

When Nancy and Jonathan had completed their ‘practice’, you led them through the woods. For a while, you walked in complete silence. It definitely would have been labelled as awkward if you weren’t hunting down a faceless shadow that took people you care about.

“Y/n, are you okay?” Jonathan spoke. His voice was hushed as he caught up with you. You decided to walk just a bit ahead of them. After all, they both seemed to be growing closer and it was none of your business.

“Fine. You?” You replied, focus set on the trees around you.

“You never said what I was saying.” Nancy’s voice rang out. She was quick to change the subject.

“What?” Jonathan span back around but still walked by your side.

“Yesterday. You said I was saying something and that’s why you took my picture.”

You shook your head slightly. You and Jonathan had been taking the same photography class for around 2 years now. You knew exactly what Jonathan thought she was ‘saying’. It was something you had been thinking for a while now.

“Oh, uh… I don’t know.” He continued walking, head lowered, “My guess… I saw this girl, you know, trying to be someone else. But, for that moment… it was like you were alone, or you thought you were. And, you know, you could just be yourself.”

You held your breath. Now there was an uncomfortable silence.

“That is such bullshit.” Nancy remarked, walking a little faster.

“What?” Jonathan stammered, stopping. You knew it was getting bad when Nancy span back around, facing him.

“I am not trying to be someone else. Just because I’m dating Steve and you don’t like him-”

“You know what? Forget it. I just thought it was a good picture.” He marches past her, joining your side again.

“He’s actually a good guy.” Nancy called back, following you.

“Okay.” He clearly didn’t agree.

“Yesterday, with the camera…” She caught up with you both and walked on the other side of you. So now you were literally caught in the middle of an argument. “He’s not like that at all. He was just being protective.”

“Yeah, that’s one word for it.”

You were unsure as to why you were holding back a laugh, but the more they argued, the more difficult it became.

“Oh, and I guess what you did was okay?”

Here we go again, you thought. Just avoid eye contact and keep walking.

“No, I… I never said that.”

“He had every right to be pissed-”

“Okay, all right. Does that mean I have to like him?”

“No.”

“Listen, don’t take it so personally, okay? I don’t like most people. He’s in the vast majority.”

“You know, I was actually starting to think that you were okay.” Nancy said and Jonathan just stopped moving altogether. You came to a halt as well, knowing that you’d need to intervene if you ever wanted this plan to go smoothly.

“Yeah?” He challenged. He should have known Nancy was a stubborn girl by now.

“Yeah. Yeah I was thinking, Jonathan Byers, maybe he's not the pretentious creep everyone says he is.”

“Nance.” You tried to help.

“Well, I was just starting to think you were okay. I was thinking, Nancy Wheeler, she's not just another suburban girl who thinks she's rebelling by doing exactly what every other suburban girl does…” He countered.

“Jonathan…” You warned, aware that he was about to take it too far.

“Until that phase passes and they marry some boring one-time jock who now works sales, and they live out a perfectly boring little life at the end of a cul-de-sac.” He continued, ignoring you, “Exactly like their parents, who they thought were so depressing, but now, hey, they get it.”

“Guys! Just stop!” You almost screamed. You felt like a child in the middle of a divorce.

“Why, Y/n? Because it’s not all about you for once?” Nancy scoffed, replying instantly.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish, Nancy.” You warned, your voice deadly. She immediately shut her mouth.

“Now if we’re done bitching to eachother, can we focus on what really matters?” Your words are the last spoken as you all continue through the woods in silence.

It was dark by the time something happened. You had all been walking at a steady pace for over an hour, still avoiding any interaction with eachother.

You thought you had heard a noise so you whipped your head around. You couldn’t investigate for long since you only had two flashlights and you were the one without.

After a little longer, Nancy stopped. You thought you had heard the same as she did; a distant whimper.

“What, are you tired?” Jonathan snapped. His anger was directed to the girl next to you.

“Shut up.” Was all she said as you both tried to listen.

“What?”

“I heard something.”

And then there was another whimper, louder this time, and your suspicions were confirmed. With a glance at eachother, you all took off toward the noise, careful to be quiet.

You eventually came across the source of the noise and your face fell. It was a deer, badly hurt but not yet dead. It must have been in a lot of pain. “Oh, God.” Nancy whispered when she saw it. “It’s been hit by a car. We can’t just leave it.”

The deer continued to whimper and you winced.

“It needs the pain to stop…” You said, looking at Jonathan. “I’ll do it.” Jonathan took the gun from Nancy’s shaking hand.

“I thought you said-”

“I’m not nine anymore.” He cocked the gun and pointed, ready to shoot.

You were going to look away when a sudden chill travelled down your spine, goosebumps trailing along your skin.

Fear.

The deer was suddenly dragged away with one giant pull, plunging it into the darkness. You all jumped back.

“What was that?” Nancy’s voice was barely a whisper. You were surprised you could hear it over your own thundering heart beat.

“It’s here.” You said, shivering.

Nancy and Jonathan started investigating, following the trail of blood. You wanted to stop them, to tell them it was a bad idea. But you couldn’t speak.

“Where’d it go?” Nancy asked when the trail came to an end by a tree.

“I don’t know.” Jonathan spoke. The whispers seemed louder now that there was a terrified silence.

“Do you see any more blood?” Jonathan asked you both.

“No.” Nancy responded. “Y/n?”

They waited for your response.

But it never came.

When the trail had come to an end, you had wandered towards a tree. The closer you got, the colder you felt. You crouched down and saw the tree had been carved out somehow, making an entrance.

The bark was dripping blood. In the darkness, you could just see some sort of black and red barrier covered in slime. It looked like an entrance to something.

Like a gate, you thought.

You heard Jonathan ask if there was any more blood. You opened your mouth to let them know what you had found. You never got the chance.

A long arm reached out and wrapped around your leg. It pulled you through so fast, you couldn’t react in time. The last thing you heard was Nancy calling out to you in a whisper.

You were clawing at the ground as soon as you realised what was happening. You could feel the slipper surface pull at your clothes, the air getting colder. You thought that this was the end.

And then it stopped. You stood up quickly, gripping your weapon. In the chaos, you still had managed to keep hold of your bat and you were clinging to it like it was your only chance for survival. You spun around but saw nothing. No sign of whatever pulled you through.

White particles floated in the air around you and you silently begged it wasn’t toxic. Looking around, the place looked the same yet entirely different. It was eerily quiet and the air was dense. The scientific part of your brain was still trying to figure out how such a small entrance led you to here. To what you could only assume was the Upside Down.

You turned back and realised you had no idea where the gate was. Panic set in. What if you couldn’t find it? Would you be stuck here forever?

“Y/n” A deep voice whispered in your ear and you swung your bat. Nothing.

Then, like a vibration, you heard a low snarl from deeper within. Curiosity taking control, you cautiously followed the sound. You had no where to run. Your only option was to hope you could take on whatever dragged you in here.

You turned a corner and your breathing stopped. It felt like your heart was as solid as a rock.

The deer was led on the ground while a figure was kneeling over it. Eating. The sound of gnawing made you sick.

Keeping hold of your breath you backed away slowly until your foot hit a twig. The sound caused a reaction and you grabbed hold of the tree next to you, positioning yourself on the other side with your hand clamped over your mouth. It was eerily quiet until you heard the creature return to its meal.

A tear rolled down your cheek. If that’s what took Barb… she was long gone. And you had the horrifying feeling that if you didn’t keep quiet, you would be next.

A shadow caught your eye, deep within the forest in front of you. You didn’t move. Neither did it. It looked like a person. Except, a little taller with… an abnormally long arm? It could just be a tree branch.

Another shadow appeared in the corner of your eye. You looked away for one second and suddenly the figure in front of you was gone. You shook it out of your mind. You’d rather focus on whatever is closer.

The flickering of light caught your attention and you saw Nancy stood frozen with her flashlight. She had seen the creature. You tried to get her attention, waving your arms frantically. Her gaze shifted to you and her eyes widened. You held a finger to your lips and signalled for her to run. You weren’t losing another friend.

She was too petrified to argue. Keeping her focus on the creature, she took slow steps backwards, just as you had earlier. You looked down to her feet, remembering why you were now hiding.

Nancy was too busy trying not to make a sound that she didn’t notice the large twig on the floor. Your hands clamped over your mouth before it even happened.

Snap.

Chapter 6: Monsters and Rumours ->

taglist: @gnnnne / @beepisbeep / @paintballkid711

comment below if you wanna be added to my taglist!

[jcmicr]

 Spontaneous Rupture of Wandering Spleen: Case Report by Mina Alvandipour in Journal of Clinical and Medical Images, Case Reports 

Abstract

Keywords: Spleen; wandering spleen; ectopic spleen; splenic rupture.

Introduction

A wandering spleen is a rare clinical occurrence with fewer than 500 cases reported and an incidence of less than 0.2% [1]. wandering spleen is caused by either extreme laxity or absence of the normal ligaments that anchor the spleen to the left upper quadrant. Gravity also plays a role by allowing the spleen to descend into the lower abdomen attached by its vascular pedicle [2]. Symptoms depend on the degree of torsion and range from chronic abdominal pain in mild torsion to acute pain in severe torsion and infarction. Accurate clinical diagnosis is difficult because of the rarity of the condition and non-specific symptoms. Radiological evaluation includes usage of ultrasound, Doppler, abdominal CT or MRI depending upon availability or preference [3]. A wandering spleen can be either congenital or acquired. In the congenital condition the ligaments fail to develop properly, whereas in the acquired form the hormonal effects of pregnancy and abdominal wall laxity are proposed as determining factors .However, the precise etiology of the wandering spleen is not known [1]. We present a spontaneous rupture of a wandering spleen with severe torsion and infarction and abdominal pain without any history of trauma.

Case Report

A 25 years old female present to emergency unit with 2 week history of progressive abdominal pain, recurrent constipation ,vomiting and loss of appetite. There was no history of melena, fever, and hematochezia and weight loss. On examination there was periumbilical and epigastria tenderness and a firm and tender mass in the right side of the abdomen without muscle guarding and rebound tenderness. The vital sign and laboratory results were all within the normal ranges, except decreased hematocrit (hemoglobin-8.4). The plain abdominal radiograph was un-remarkable while abdominal ultrasonography with color Doppler showed absence of spleen in its normal location in the left upper abdomen. Also it detects a heterogeneous hypoechoic capsulated mass with diameter of 175mm in right lower abdomen. Other organs of the abdomen were normal. Abdominal pelvic CT scan with and without contrast was recommended and findings was Absence of the spleen in its normal position in the left hypochondrium, and presence of large diameter mass (splenomegaly)in the right sub hepatic area(Wandering spleen) . Other organs of the abdomen were normal. Contrast-enhanced computed tomography (CECT) of the abdomen revealed whirlpool sign near the umbilicus. The splenic parenchyma showed abnormal enhanced areas, suggestive of splenic torsion and infarction.

A final diagnosis was wandering spleen with torsion of the vascular pedicle and infarction. The patient underwent a total splenectomy. During the laparotomy, an enlarged and infarcted mass was seen in right side of abdomen. The characteristic “whirlsign” can be seen in the area of the splenic vascular pedicle, indicative of torsion. Histological examination confirmed total infraction of the wandering spleen. The postoperative course was uneventful, and the patient was discharged on the 4th day after the operation.

Discussion

A wandering spleen is a rare but well-known entity. The incidence is < 0.2%. It is more common in females than males between the second to fourth decade of life and children [4]. Splenic weight >500 g in more than 8 out of 10 cases [5]. Interestingly, it has been reported that one out of three cases of wandering spleen appears in children bellow the age of 10 years old [7].

Wandering is characterized by splenic hyper mobility that results from elongation or mal-development of its suspensory ligaments. It is also known as aberrant, floating, displaced, prolapsed, ptotic, dislocated or dystopic spleen. Ectopic spleen, splenosis and accessory spleens are separate clinical entities and must be distinguished from it [5]. If the pedicle is twisted in the course of movement of the spleen, blood supply may be interrupted or blocked, resulting in severe damage to the blood vessels .Acute splenic torsion compromises venous outflow, which causes congestion and impairment of arterial inflow. Pain is originated from the splenic capsular stretching with rapid splenic enlargement and localized peritonitis [6]. Etiology is congenital or acquired. In case of congenital anomaly, a failure occur in fusion of the dorsal mesogastrium with the posterior abdominal wall during the second month of embryogenesis. Acquired risk factors that predispose to wandering spleen include pregnancy, trauma and splenomegaly [7]. Splenic torsion is usually clockwise. Complications of splenic torsion include: gangrene, abscess formation, local peritonitis, intestinal obstruction and necrosis of the pancreatic tail, which can lead to recurrent acute pancreatitis [8].

Wondering spleen had nonspecific symptoms such as abdominal pain that make diagnosis extremely challenging. As a result, radiologists play a major role in the diagnosis of this condition and its complications. Torsion may occur acutely and present with infarction or peritonitis. Chronic intermittent torsion can lead to pain, splenomegaly, and functional splenectomy. Contrast-enhanced computed tomography (CT) is the best imaging tool to make this diagnosis, although ultrasound may be used as well. Imaging findings on CT include identification of a spleen in an abnormal location, or with an abnormal orientation in the left upper quadrant. Often the wandering spleen is identified as a “comma” shaped mass in abdomen, with no normal left upper quadrant spleen [9].

Laboratory investigations are non-specific. Thrombocytopenia, through a mechanism of spleen enlargement secondary to compression of the splenic pedicle is rarely found [7]. The clinical presentation of wandering spleen is variable; it is either asymptomatic or noted incidentally during physical and radiographic examination or presents as acute abdomen due to torsion with subsequent infarction. The most common presentation is a mass with non-specific abdominal symptoms or intermittent abdominal discomfort due to congestion resulting from torsion and spontaneous detorsion [10]. Today, the only recommended treatment for wandering spleen is operation [7]. Splenectomy is indicated for infracted spleen and sometimes for huge splenomegaly precluding splenopexy. Splenopexy is the choice of treatment if the spleen is not infarcted [6]. Splenic preservation is highly recommended for young patients—those under one year of age up to those in their thirties—who are at particular risk for overwhelming post-splenectomy sepsis [10]. This should be appropriately followed up by the prophylactic vaccines against post-splenectomy sepsis syndrome. Ideally they should be administered before surgery; however, in emergencies this is not always possible [1].

Conclusion

In this case, splenectomy was done due to spleen infarction. Laparotomy was done in this case because of low experience at laparoscopy splenectomy. This report highlights the investigations and management necessary for a patient who presents with an ischaemic torted wandering spleen.

Acknowledgement: None.

Conflict of Interest: None.

Funds: None.

For more details : https://jcmimagescasereports.org/author-guidelines/ 

[gothampubliclibrary]

Plot Bunny Adoption Corner #6

(fusion AU with Inuyasha)

In this fusion AU, the role of Kagome is replaced with Tim Drake. In this universe, he is the reincarnation of the priestess Kikyo, who had died in the distant past in Japan and attempted to take the mystical cursed Shikon no Tama with her to the afterlife to keep it out of the hands of men and yokai alike.

She didn't account for reincarnation tho.

Tim had no idea of his past life or the Shikon Jewel hiding inside his body. Not until he was midway through BruceQuest and got ambushed in the desert by the Widower. When the Council of Spiders assassin stabbed Tim with his blade, instead of rupturing his spleen, he inadvertently freed a strange glowing marble of a jewel that had been hidden in Tim's abdomen. As he was bleeding out, Tim could only stare in horror and wonder at the gem, confused as to what the hell that was and why was it inside him? Widower immediately saw the jewel and was drawn to it. Over Tim's protests, the assassin picked it up and seemed to get a rush of power from it. He claimed it for himself as he left his victims bleeding out in the sand.

Things progress as they do in canon, until the Spider's attack on The Cradle. A much faster and stronger Widower is there. While the rest of his team didn't know about the gem, Tim could mysteriously still "see" where Widower was hiding it. He managed to just barely cut through the pocket the Widower had stashed it in.

When the gem fell and bounced to the floor, all eyes, especially those of the metahumans there, turned to it. It was like the gem was calling to it. Tim also noticed that the gem's color was darker than before?

Before Tim could get a hold of the gem, the Spiders scrambled for it, even fighting amongst themselves. The metahuman Wanderer got a hold of it and the Shikon Jewel flared to life and gave her even greater power. Right before their eyes, it transformed her into a demonic version of herself, changing the color of her skin, giving her multiple arms and eyes, and granting her the power to shoot out webs that could drain the life from people as an extension of her original meta powers.

Everyone is shocked and horrified to see the change in her, none more than Tim though, as he watches the woman go mad with her newfound power and start turning it against everyone, even her own allies!

Desperate times called for desperate measures. Calling on all his mentors' teachings, Tim uses his weapons and skills to force Wanderer to drop the gem. He quickly snatched it up, grabs Tam Fox, and initiates the self destruct sequence he programmed into the LOA computer systems.

After escaping from the Cradle, both Tim and Tam stare at the gem with confusion and suspicion. For some reason, it now seemed "docile" in Tim's hands.

Meanwhile, Ra's al Ghul had watched everything from video feed from his own secret base, eyes lit up with delight and hunger. He recognized the Shikon no Tama, and he would do anything to possess it himself!

[mariacallous]

Biting into a pani câ meusa is like being transported back 1,000 years to when Sicilian Jews dominated the sandwich market. Called “pani câ meusa” in Sicilian, “pane con la milza” in Italian, and “bread with spleen” in English, the recipe is a sandwich of fluffy bread and boiled veal lung and spleen fried in lard and topped with cheese. This may sound unenticing, but once you watch elegant women with leather purses gorging next to a pack of teenagers it’s hard not to be curious. 

The fact that a spleen sandwich could be so widely cherished surprised me enough to look into its history–and I was even more surprised to find it actually has Jewish origins. Pani câ meusa dates back to the Medieval era, before a 1492 decree during the Spanish Inquisition drove over 25,000 Sicilian Jews either out of Sicily, or into conversion or crypto hiding. At the time, Jewish butchery was considered sacred, and thus not something for which to accept payment. Instead, butchers were compensated with the remaining offal, which they then fried in lard and sold to Gentiles in the form of a sandwich to make money on the side. Pani câ meusa became so popular that even after the Jews were expelled, it remained a beloved tradition that lasted through the conquest of many other empires occupying Sicily for millennia. Today it is one of the few visible traces of Jewish culture that remain, besides chance street names with Hebrew letters written beneath them.

Pani câ meusa has cult status in Palermo, itself a food mecca in a country where food is identity, self-expression, and love-language all at once. There are multiple meusa sellers (meusari) whose families are famous for making them for generations. Rocky Basile has a viral YouTube documentary made about him, and his cart is listed on Google Maps, while Nino U’ Ballerino (who has his own YouTube tribute) is nicknamed “The Dancer” because of his graceful yet speedy movements as he shakes off excess lard. 

Strangely, when I finally had my first bite, I forgot my surroundings and found myself reminded of 2nd Avenue Deli dinners of my childhood with my great-aunt Estelle. For New York Jews, lining up for a heaping pile of hot meat on sandwich bread is a familiar ritual, and I would say that spleen is merely like an extreme-sports version of pastrami. The flavor has the same fatty sweetness (because of the lard) and like rye, the “vastedda” bread acts as a grease-absorbent cloud, topped with sesame seeds. For a sour kick, rather than mustard, you can order the sandwich “schietta” which means “single” — with just a spritz of lemon — or you can have it “married” (maritata), covered by a wedding veil of cheese.

It can feel rare to have an experience of identification with Jewish history in Europe that isn’t bound up with loss or, as a fellow wandering Jew from Brooklyn once described it, “Holocaust vibes.” This is especially true in Italy, a region with deep history, yet much of its Jewish history erased during the Spanish Inquisition and the Nazi occupation. It’s comforting, then, that the appeal of hot meat sandwiches transcends time, geography, class, religion or language. Pastrami itself was originally borrowed from a Romanian recipe, and pani câ meusa merges Jewish and Sicilian influence. As the Italian saying goes: “Tutto il mondo è paese.” The whole world is just a village.

[caparrucia]

Wanderer learning to person from the Aggravate polycule is all fun and games until you realize he's gonna have some fucking skewed takes on relationships, and that's taking into account the Fatui fuckery:

Wanderer: wait, if you're fucking your roommate, doesn't that make him your boyfriend?

Kaveh: god no, fuck that. I had to be in a relationship with every person I sleep with, I'd kill myself, good lord. No, he's my roommate, I just sleep with him sometimes. You know, the normal amount.

Wanderer: what do you mean the normal amount?

Kaveh: you know, the normal amount. Here, watch: hey, Cyno!

Cyno, wary, tired, expecting a other fire that needs to be put out: Yes, Kaveh?

Kaveh: what's the normal amount of sleeping with a roommate?

Cyno, no hesitation, not even a shadow of a doubt: as much as you need to avoid getting shived at night.

Wanderer: This is the dumbest fucking thing I've ever heard-!

Kaveh: Do you have a roommate?

Wanderer: Well, no--

Cyno: then you don't know shit.

Kaveh, clinking his glass with Cyno, knowingly: Roommates, kid. It's a whole artform.

Wanderer: I will rip out your spleen through your nostrils if you call me kid again.

[growling]

I recently remembered your au where Yuma quits being a detective after the train and Yomi is caught for his crimes much earlier and they meet

They'd have such a fascinating dynamic... plus with Shinigami in the mix it'd be so funny. Yuma's a magnet for trouble and I can imagine Yomi just continually flabbergasted over just how much trouble Yuma brings to the table accidentally. Not to mention how much Yomi himself brings, being on the run in a city he can't leave

zkajsdhkwadiadkj this ask made me stim for minutes before I could coherently answer.. omg people think about my older stuff still....

I've used to like have. Very. A Lot of those Yuma + Yomi forced to interact aus, most notably

Prrrreetty much same premise as this one, except Yomi doesn't get booted out the company and it's just Yuma wandering around (alone) (fucking loser) until he accidentially ends up somewhat benefiting the peacekeepers with his instakill torment labirynth powers when he uses it once after arriving in KW in front of them and now he's stuck working for the guys if he wants to keep his spleen. Nobody has any fucking idea about him having a pact with a shinigami of course (most of them thinks its some extremely op forte. they do have other theories though. some of them scarily close), but all Yomi has to know from his Polite Interrogation is that if Yuma can stop time to solve any mystery and if he succeeds the culprit drops dead. He has lost his only hitman so far just a few days ago (F.Zilch/Aide rip in fucking rest) so Yuma sounds like a great deal and a decent replacement, especially with his killings being instant leaving zero marks -- while he won't ever truly replace Aide as one of his closest advisors and the person he was to him, (and Yomi will never hesistate to scream at him about it every single day) (but he still simultaneously treats him like one, why couldn't you act more like that dead guy that really liked me that you will never be like no matter what you do, you know his death matches what you did to that other guy right when we first found you? if you really did kill him too which I already made up my mind about you must really make up for that sin by filling in the hole he left which you can never do by the way, and by acting like you can would be insulting his memory (and me) almost as much as it would if you didn't even try, anyway here's your paycheck for this week *hands him 30000 shien which makes Yuma feel slightly better*), as long as he can keep killing people and being such a pleasure to have at meetings (but be careful!). Yuma's main "job" is to find out the identities of people (or just the exact intricacies of their actions) who are actively wronging or interfering with Amaterasu corp and then make them go poof. Though Yomi never sics him on Huesca despite complaining about him so much, for some reason. Yuma is so stressed the whole terrible, no good, very bad time he's at KW, his health starts rapidly declining, and due to being extra irritable from being tired/in pain constantly he turns into a really unpleasant person to be around which makes most people avoid him except for a few select people (that are fucking unhinged btw. which makes him feel even worse), that coupled with regularly being exposed to Yomi's radioactive miasma and slowly getting desensitized to death via being a hitman, he starts thinking hey maybe murder is ok actually sometimes like you know theres nuance yknow... That doesn't mean he doesn't still retain some of game Yuma's overall kindness he had even if he wishes he could stop caring (ugh why do i have morals this sucks), he's not like, a terrible person per se the way Huesca or Yomi (admittedly, sighing emoji) are, he's just. Yeagh. Sometimes he's got a good day and he decides today he's gonna try and mediate between Makoto and Yomi again so his shit boss would get himself together and stop yapping to him about his shit boss every day because he doesn't have the patience for this this is so stupid I do not care who started it now go hold hands and apologize to each other or let me disengage from this situation please. I don't know how much aware Yuma is of Makoto wanting him obliterated too, but it sure must be interesting at the headquarters with this homoerotic hatred triangle. I had way more to say originally but this is getting *scrolls up for a brief moment before starting to sweat* Long I've got the paragraph text limit and had to delete it lmaoo

The Yomigami au I also posted about earlier where essentially Yomi is Shinigami and you will never ever in a million years guess who the director is instead. Originally a joke but then I started thinking and as you know this is usually where it all descends downhill into the madness. Anyaway canon Shinigami was morbid already and had a morality far removed from humans, Yomi/gami is just cranked up to 100 with all this and sprinkle some sadism on top. He purposefully drags Yuma out every day to get involved in as many cases as possible until he just has no choice but to enter that labirynth (fun bonding activity). Yomi/gami is also EXTRA against Yuma working for the resistance in that one chapter, he really really really hates criminals and poor people and especially poor criminals dohya's so scary guys let's go Kokohead let's leave this pit :(((((( anyway putting all the funky labirynth details I got aside as to not make this too long, canon Shinigami already was pretty lonely (in that book (gay baby jail) for an ambiguous amount of years) before but in her own way focused on what's best for Yuma's growth as a detective even if they'll have to part ways eventually. Yomi/gami is not like this even if he doesn't act like he cares abt Yuma he's not just gonna let him leave so he can rot in the book in total isolation again just a few weeks after he got out of it. He does everything in his power to impede on Yuma's progress and get him as far away from the reason he came there for so their contract will last longer he's latching on he's a parasite he's lonely. He would NEVER suggest to Yuma that he can stay in the labirynth in chapter 5, he HAS to reap Makoto's soul there is no other option. And if Yuma did by any chance choose to do so anyway, Yomi/gami is absolutely not letting him take the emergency exit he'd rather let him die in there than to let him leave and just move on without him and forget he existed at all lmao. You could go anywhere you want to see others like you and have anyone you could desire I only have you do you really hate me so much you can't stand to know me any longer is that why you're so eager to abandon me the first chance you get. That is so cruel of you and makes you even more of a terrible person you already are for killing so many people for your own selfish pursuit of the truth but it's okay because I'm the only one who could ever understand you and why you've done all this and forgive you even if you don't deserve it because we're bestiessssss foreverrrrrrr <33333 in short: it's a trashfire. Vivia and Makoto both wish they were never exposed to whatever this is and that they remained oblivious for the rest of their lives. Having a lot of trouble with the ending though since I cannot decide between whether 1) Yuma Fucking Dies if I can't have you no one can *compresses you into a cube and yeets it directly at Makoto's skull 2) Yuma has to epic battle his 1000+ yr old weird shinigami buddy on creative mode so he'll let him get his memories back (yomigami voice that you willingly gave to me you knew the terms very well why are you suddenly going back on your word huh. huh??) and Yomi/gami just kinda accepts any relationship he forms with anyone is never gonna last and just goes back to sleep until somebody else wants a temporary pact with him again 3) secret third option where nobody's depressed and Yomi/gami gets to have some kind of way to avoid being isolated forever and start forming longer lasting connections with people that doesn't require Yuma to set himself on fire to make him warm but I'll be honest chief I have no idea how they could possibly do it. So that's that. And before anyone asks: Yes this is yaoi to me

A lot of other smaller yumayomi/kokohell AUs where they mildly enjoy each other's presence, widely ranging between "actually somewhat surprisingly healthy" and "good lord somebody stop them from fucking killing each other or dragging anybody else into this shitshow they got"

And this one of course. the one who started the yuma + yomi madness <333333333 One detail about it that managed to actually stick (so much about it im just. continuouslyc changing ksdhgyrsjsg) is that Yuma gets much more involved with the resistance after being in Dohya for that long before just kinda stopping or avoiding them because uh, *gestures at the hellsmile he's currently in close proximity with* you know. And yes the dynamic would be unparalleled Yuma has no normal friends. They never get a moment of peace before bringing another disaster onto themselves it's always fucking something... Id say something else but i used up all my energy now brain not work anymore defeated looking emoji. A glimpse into my fucked up yomi/yuma mind I will milk them forever

[goodnightmemes]

CARMILLA SEASON ONE SENTENCE STARTERS (PART ONE)

Lines taken from episodes s01e01 - s01e19 of the web series Carmilla. Feel free to change as needed. Part two is here.

❛ Nothing, not even the homecoming goat sacrifice, disturbs the pursuit of knowledge. ❜

❛ I passed the test! 62%. Which is pretty cool. It’s like a gentlewoman’s C. ❜

❛ This is our college adventure, come on! ❜

❛ And how is the Jäger-bombinatrix doing this morning? ❜

❛ And really, why does anybody do anything? ❜

❛ I found it next to a pile of ick that started growing mushrooms the next day. ❜

❛ Don’t judge. My dad thought I’d use an iPhone to send high-resolution selfies to potential stalkers. ❜

❛ If an incident is in progress, please dial 4815 or activate the nearest blue tentacle phone. ❜

❛ To report an escaped entity or poltergeist activity, please press - ❜

❛ Fine. I’ve got three weeks of a journalism class and I’ve seen all of Veronica Mars. I’ll find her myself. ❜

❛ I don’t know, things just got so foggy after the alchemy guys released, you know, the fog. ❜

❛ I’m your new roommate, sweetheart. ❜

❛ Oh, this is not happening. You are not my new roommate! ❜

❛ Boom! Revenge is mine. ❜

❛ See? Blood.In the milk container. ❜

❛ This is like, a death threat, or a health code violation. ❜

❛ Well, there’s no denying it’s a little…odd. ❜

❛ How many people you know take Type O with their Chocoa Crunch? ❜

❛ Are you really gonna try and pretend this isn’t a total freak show? ❜

❛ Oh, see, surviving. Yes, I like that plan. ❜

❛ A lot of problems can be solved through good communication. ❜

❛ A lot of problems can also be solved by taking hair and blood samples to figure out exactly what kind of freaky it is you’re dealing with. ❜

❛ You filled a milk container with blood as a prank? ❜

❛ It was food coloring, and…and corn syrup. ❜

❛ That bunched-up little face you make when you’re angry is hilarious, buttercup. ❜

❛ I kept on having the same dream before. ❜

❛ And the darkness is in my eyes and in my throat and I can’t breathe, and … ❜

❛ I-I’m sorry, I can’t be here anymore. ❜

❛ I really hope that it passes over you and I hope it doesn’t touch your face. ❜

❛ Are you really so damaged that you’re incapable of caring about anything? ❜

❛ You’re a child. And you understand nothing. Not about life. Not about this place. ❜

❛ You know what? The sooner you stop playing Lois Lane, the better off you’ll be. ❜

❛ No, I’m not just gonna give up. ❜

❛ So, maybe that’s just how it is, but that does not mean that I have to accept it. I deserve better. [ name ] deserves better. Hell, even you deserve better. ❜

❛ It’s a town hall meeting! Remember your training, we’ve got five minutes! Run, run! ❜

❛ Sometimes a girl’s gotta manufacture her own excitement, you know? ❜

❛ We should be reinstating our night marches. ❜

❛ And then the Zetas piped in with this chant that pretty much sounded like “pizza or death”. ❜

❛ I think we’d make a pretty great team. ❜

❛ Yeah, a team. You and me, absolutely. ❜

❛ Hey, is that fish in your hair? ❜

❛ It is very, very nice of you large, large gentlemen to offer to keep me safe, but as you can see, I’m in my room. Snug as a bug in a rug. So, you’re good to go. ❜

❛ If I decide to go wandering down some dark alleyways late at night, you guys’ll be my first call. ❜

❛ Get the hell out of here before I feed you each other’s spleens. ❜

❛ Dude, she bit me! That is so not cool. ❜

❛ Guess that’s it for the truce, then. ❜

❛ We have been working nonstop and, not that we’re geniuses or anything, but I think we’re really close to a breakthrough. ❜

❛ I think my brain has melted. ❜

❛ Chocolate is comforting in the face of epic failure. ❜

❛ And what kind of thrilling adventure do we find ourselves on now? ❜

❛ This is so childish. You’d think we were still six. ❜

❛ Schadenfreude isn’t very attractive. ❜

❛ But I so had it coming, didn’t I? ❜

❛ God, this age doesn’t understand obligation. It’s like an undersea anchor; impossible to escape. ❜

❛ They’re the ones using dander collected at parties to seed an immense interconnected fungus throughout campus. ❜

❛ Apparently, it’s a communications experiment. Or, maybe a really complicated risotto recipe? I don’t know. ❜

❛ Sorry, I just forgot that I have to be anywhere but here. ❜

❛ Oh, no. You are entirely too sweet ❜

❛ But you’ve got to admit it looks pretty hinky. ❜

❛ Confronting her has historically been about as effective as using bug spray on Voldemort. ❜

❛ Oh, wow. That’s…why are you wearing warpaint? ❜

❛ Come on! Why are the hotties in this room always trying to hurt me?! ❜

❛ That is unfair, okay, cause I’m here out of the, like, bro-ness of my heart, alright? ❜

❛ So, has it even occurred to you that while you’re duking it out, nobody is actually out there protecting anybody at all?! ❜

❛ Ah, it’s mostly just paintballs and anchovies. I’ll talk them down. ❜

❛ It just seemed so real…like…that weird moment of clarity during magic hour or the moment right before a car crash. ❜

❛ I was in my room and there was something in my bed. Something under my bed. This dark, prowling thing without a face. ❜

❛ I tried to pull the blankets over my face to hide, but the darkness started seeping through them like blood, more and more, until I was drowning in it. ❜

❛ Well, dreams are supposed to be strange. Last night I dreamt I was trapped under a bed. ❜

❛ But, just a dream. No reason for all of this…twitchiness. ❜

❛ There is no twitching. There is an absence of twitching. ❜

❛ You know, if it’s really making you so miserable, I could get you something to help you sleep. ❜

❛ That’s uncharacteristically considerate of you. ❜

❛ Yeah, well, I just don’t want you losing it and torching all my stuff. ❜

❛ The results are starting to look profoundly WTF. ❜

❛ I know Silas has some quirks, but I’m pretty sure spontaneous combustion, super strength, and an all-protein diet weren’t options on my roommate form. ❜

❛ Your Snape/Ron fic’s still on the screen, spaz. ❜

❛ It’s a charm or whatever. To help with the bad dreams. ❜

❛ So, in the spirit of all this newfound closeness, maybe you could tell me where you go all night? ❜

❛ Mmm, well, I have to keep some of my secrets. Otherwise, I’ll lose my air of mystery, won’t I? ❜

❛ Oh, you know, I miss my dad, I have papers due. I’m about to be my roommate’s next victim. ❜

❛ Come on. Let’s get you changed into something with a little less whiff. ❜

❛ Everything in your fridge is made of glucose and palm oil. I’m surprised you don’t have scurvy. ❜

❛ As soon as we got there, everyone was leaving the building, and yes, as the sun went down, we started to hear something…skittering. ❜

❛ Before you realized the staircase wasn’t in the same place anymore? ❜

❛ Before we realized we might have gotten a little turned around. And that most of the computer monitors we could see were warning us to “Run. Run now”. And the skittering was getting closer. ❜

❛ We created a flamethrower using a lighter and some mace. ❜

❛ I get a text that says “Come quick. Stuck in Library. Bring fire extinguisher” ❜

❛ Okay, yes! It was stupid, and we’re lucky that you didn’t have to save our souls. ❜

❛ Well, yeah, but we know she’s a vampire. I mean, we’ve known that since the blood in the milk container, right? ❜

❛ You all knew I was living with a vampire and nobody said anything? ❜

❛ She’s not a vampire. There’s no such thing as vampires. She’s a…light-averse octogenarian with extreme hemoglobin deficiency and really good skin. ❜

❛ My roommate is an honest-to-Lestat vampire. How do we stop a vampire? ❜

❛ No! No! We can’t immolate everyone that [ name ] thinks is a supernatural creature. ❜

❛ Well, I have an idea but you are not gonna like it. ❜

❛ Okay, explain to me again how offering yourself as bait to your blood-sucking roommate is not the worst plan ever devised by womankind. ❜

❛ Well, the fact that a terrible plan is our only plan is not really a selling point. ❜

❛ You guys know that I can hear you, right? Maybe instead of peanut gallery-ing you can help me figure out how we trap a vampire? ❜

❛ How do we feel about bear spray? ❜

❛ What would Mina Harker do? …Get bitten. Mina Harker would totally try and act all alluring to the bloodsucking fiend and totally get bitten. Let’s not do that. ❜

❛ Looking at the stars. It’s comforting, to think how small we are in comparison. All the lives we’ve led, the people we’ve been, nothing to that light. ❜

❛ “Black as the pit and terrible as the night was Bagheera”? I always loved that. It’s beautiful. ❜

❛ Behold: Vampire bait! ❜

❛ Don’t you look like a virgin sacrifice? ❜

❛ Parties should be a shimmering moment of possibility, not a collection of brutes around a piece of flaming driftwood. ❜

❛ Feels like more than that. Like something seen underwater from a great distance. ❜

❛ God, I’m a nostalgic idiot tonight. ❜

❛ Maybe I don’t feel like sharing you right now. ❜

❛ God, what am I doing? Naive, provincial girl. Entirely too tightly wound. Such a cliché. I oughta know better. ❜

❛ I oughta know better. And yet…there’s something about you. ❜

❛ Also, I got my head smashed into a table, if anyone cares. ❜

❛ There is not allowed to be some new horrible thing! ❜

❛ You know, at times like these a dude needs to be with his bros. ❜

❛ Well, don’t look at me. I didn’t want to kidnap anyone to begin with! ❜

❛ Definitely not untying angry vampire. ❜

❛ You can’t just keep a hostage in your dorm room! ❜

❛ I”m sure there’s all sorts of things we could figure out through some minimally-invasive probing. ❜

❛ It’ll seem dire once they start your tribunal. ❜

❛ So the sooner you ‘fess us and tell us what’s going on, the better this is gonna go for you because we have got…a spatula, and a stapler, and we are not afraid to use them. ❜

❛ You cannot seriously think we’re dumb enough to believe you’re innocent just because you say so. ❜

❛ Look, if I were really a vampire, would I just stay here, tied up, proclaiming my innocence as some sort of trick? ❜

❛ Yeah. That’s completely exactly what a vampire would do. ❜

❛ Do I strike you as the type of person who plays well with others? ❜

❛ Uh, we’re rehearsing a skit. Uh, yeah, the torture scene from Arsenic and Old Lace. Mmm-hmm, yeah, there’s a torture scene. ❜

❛ I hear they have a great collection of straight-jackets and tranquilizers. ❜

❛ I swear, if one more of your broken-hearted study buddies comes knocking at the door, I’m gonna start spritzing them like cats. ❜

❛ No, no, no! Please don’t die, please don’t die, you stupid vampire! Here, look, I’ve got blood. ❜

❛ The experience of being held captive by a clutch of imbeciles for something I didn’t even have the pleasure of doing is humiliating enough without having you wipe me up like a dribbling child. ❜

❛ Wait, you thought that was me trying to eat you? ❜

❛ Oh…Oh! So, when you were hitting on me, you were really hitting on me? ❜

❛ Could you just stake me now? Cause I think that would be less mortifying than this conversation. ❜

❛ If you want us to trust you, you have gotta tell us your side of the story. ❜

[faeassassin]

It's finally finished!

I started a filk ages ago (over 25 years ago) and got interrupted in the middle. Couldn't figure out how to end it, got frustrated, gave up.

Today I resurrected it.

Finally. Finished.

Sung to the tune of My Bonnie:

[Chorus] Bring back, bring back, Oh, bring back my stomach to me, to me, Bring back, bring back, Oh, bring back my stomach to me!

My stomach lies inside my middle, My stomach lies right in between, My lungs and my heart and my liver, My pancreas, bladder, and spleen.

[Repeat Chorus]

I went to my doctor to help me With a painful digestinal ill, He said this is serious business As he typed up an extra long bill.

[Repeat Chorus]

The surgeon who cut me wide open Knew right where a stomach should be. He didn't know I was no native To Earth - more's the pity for me!

[Repeat Chorus]

The surgeon ran out the door screaming. The lawyers proceeded to faint, Because I awoke and I noticed The gap where my stomach just ain't.

[Repeat Chorus]

To this day I wander around now, My alien disguise a bust, If anyone here will just listen, I'm begging you please, now, you must--

[Repeat Chorus WITH GUSTO]