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deadsetobsessions · 3 months

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Sea Cryptic! Danny AU- Pt.4

[Pt.1] [Pt.2] [Pt.3][Pt.5][Pt.6][Pt.7]

Danny was sitting in the back, his backpack obnoxiously taking up the seat next to him, when the door to the lecture hall creaked open near silently.

“What are you in here for?” Danny asked the guy who crept into class. He sympathetically took his backpack off the Seat of Shame and allowed the guy to sit down. Funnily enough, they had the same hair and eye color.

“Gen Ed. Undecided. You?” The guy grunted quietly back.

“Environmental studies. I’m Danny.”

“Tim.”

With the implicit understanding of two people in a required class they could not give less than two fucks about, Tim and Danny tuned back into the lecture. When the class was assigned group work, Danny looked over to see Tim softly snoring, head slammed down on the table.

“Tim. Wake up, dude.” Danny poked his shoulder.

“Huh? Class over?”

“Nah, we got group work. Discussion board.”

“Oh shit, thanks for waking me up. Wanna team up?”

Danny shrugged. “Sure. We should aim to post it in the middle so the professor doesn’t read our answers to the class.”

“Yeah, sounds like a good idea. Any idea what we’re talking about?”

“Kind of?”

“Good enough for me.”

——

Tim Drake kept seeing Danny Fenton around on campus.

“Danny! Dude, what are you doing?”

Danny turned, gloved hands full of crumpled trash. “Picking up after the student population, apparently.”

“Didn’t think environmental studies was that serious.”

“Global warming is very serious, you jerk,” Danny smirked at him, crossing the grass to put the trash into the trash can. “Reduce, reuse, oil shouldn’t be spilled in water and all that.”

“Basic stuff,” Tim grinned. Nice, he basically had a friend past Bernard now!

They were friends, right?

“And yet humanity fails to comprehend it. Incredible. Incredibly stupid that is.”

“They get it. Major corporations just don’t care.”

Danny sighed. “True that. You on your way to your next class?” He took off his biodegradable gloves off (nitrile and nylon, baby!) and chucked them into the trash.

“I’ve got free time, actually. Prof cancelled for his daughter’s surgery.”

“Oh, shit, that’s rough! You wanna go downtown and join the strike?”

“A strike? What for?” Even as he asked, Tim hiked his bag higher onto his shoulder, ready to go. They fell into step as the two left campus.

“Apparently, Quillan Pharma was doing some shady shit at their manufacturing plants. I think it’s like killing kids, and pouring toxins into the ground.”

“Oh, shit.”

“Yeah. Oh! Poison Ivy’s gonna be there!”

Tim blinked. He casted a sideways look at Danny. Sure he’s been here long enough to know… but it couldn’t hurt to check. “You know she’s an eco-terrorist, right?”

“Okay, but like… people suck sometimes. And all she’s asking for is like don’t kill the planet. And she doesn’t do that whole mind control thing too much anymore! The Sirens are so cool. Plus, one of my best friends at home might actually kill me if I don’t try to get her autograph. Poison Ivy is like, Sam’s personal hero.”

Tim snickered. “Yeah, okay. Mind if one of my friends join? His name’s Bernard.”

“The more the merrier,” Danny nodded. “Ooo! Hot chocolate. Want some?”

Danny bought three drinks as Tim trailed behind, texting Bernard.

“He said yes.”

“Cool! We should meet up somewhere before the drinks get cold.”

Well, Danny got the autograph. Tim got a new friend, and Bernard got a drink from his crush.

——

“Oh, you’re the glowing dude that Batman always talks about!”

Danny blinked, eyes scanning the wing-like cape and the yellow emblem on the hero’s suit. Danny was indeed glowing, stars and nebulas freckling across neon green skin, and glowing hair the color of a white dwarf star, tinged with the blue from his ice core.

“I… have absolutely no idea who you are,” Danny lied, like a liar. He’s found a surprising niche of entertainment in messing with the local vigilantes and he’ll be damned if he missed this opportunity.

He heard a snicker from the comm lines as Red Robin visibly brushes it off.

“I’m Red Robin. Why are you picking up trash?”

“Picking up after you humans, apparently.”

The both of them blink, feeling a weird sense of déjà vu. A moment of awkward silence passed before they both shook it off.

“Are you here to help? No offense, but the track record for you people is terrible.” Danny strode over and grabbed a bag. He opened it, and shook it at Red Robin’s face. “See? Batarangs, these odd bird looking ones, the R’s. Seriously, pick up after yourselves!”

“Oh, woah, can we have these back?”

Danny yanked the bag back before Red Robin could get close. “Pay me. These were incredibly tedious to pick up. Especially the batarangs. I mean, I even found a whole bunch of old rusted ones in the middle of the bay. What did you do, dump an entire bag in there from the air?”

Red Robin sighed and took out a wad of cash, with tracking fluid all over it. Danny grimaced, smelling the odd scent on the money. “That’s not real cash. It smells off. Are you trying to give me counterfeits because you’re broke?”

Red Robin gaped, oddly offended. “No! They’re real!”

“Doesn’t smell like it. It’s stinkier than the trash. Go get the one with the money, the litterer. Tell him I’ll be back the next full moon. I don’t want to talk to you anymore.” Danny grumbled, disappearing on the spot to watch Red Robin flounder with the stack of cash and the piles of dead bodies on the shore.

“What the fuck even is my life these days?” Red Robin wondered out loud, stuffing the cash back into his pocket. He looked over the plastic wrapped bodies and slumped, sighing.

Oddly enough, Danny felt a sense of sympathy. Well, he’s not getting paid for sympathy. He’s not getting paid at all tonight, actually. Danny flew off, plunging once more into the depths of the significantly cleaner waters, and used his ice to scoop out oil stains.

Danny glanced around and sighed. He had a lot of work to do.

——

“So you’re saying he’s like a werewolf mermaid fae child immortal god thing, right?”

Bruce grunted.

“B, what the hell are you smoking these days? You know drugs are bad, right? Do we need Superman to give you that PSA?” Jason snickered.

Tim, massaging his arms from having to haul an ungodly amount of dead bodies, grunted. He’s so similar to Bruce that it gave the people currently in the cave hives.

“He said full moon. I don’t think we can track him with regular stuff. The bugs kept shorting out.”

“Oh boy,” Dick sighed. “Don’t fall off the spiral cliff, Tim. You’ve got midterms to think about so no stalking the guy.”

“Yet,” Tim shot back, changing out of his suit.

Bruce grunted, setting aside a huge stack of cash.

#let Tim Drake go to college you cowards #he got his GED in this one boys #let Tim fucking age #danny phantom #batman #tim drake #dc x dp #dcxdp #dpxdc #danny the tired college student #bamf danny phantom #siren au???#sea cryptic Danny #bro I had war flashbacks to discussion board group work #terrible why do I do this to myself #the batarangs in the middle of the bay was from when Bruce tried to kill the joker and himself #Danny: people just can’t clean up after themselves these days #sea cryptic! danny au

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hotelsuppliesdepot · 1 year

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forlorn-crows · 6 months

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Crowwwww can you tell me about how much Dew likes it when Dr Aether wears those stretchy blue gloves pls :3

i hate you. look what you've made me do. now there's lube and cum and piss all over the place. fucking. save me doctor aether.

dew better not be fucking allergic to latex. nitrile doesnt sound as nice to write so he's getting latex.

cw: 1.8k of med kink, light bondage, and a nice wet handy with a finger up the ass. dewther banter. overstim leading to piss at the end. you might think dew is the menace here, but you'd be wrong. so wrong.

“Snap ‘em,” Dew says, licking his lips. “Snap the—yeah, fuck.”

Aether snaps the latex around his wrists, once, twice. Revels in the shiver that visibly runs up Dew’s spine. His cock drifts upwards towards his stomach, having flagged a bit while the quint ghoul tied each limb to the four posters of his bed frame. But it springs up now, pleasantly plump just from him putting the bright blue medical gloves over his thick hands.

Dew wriggles against his holds, eyes lidded. “Want ‘em, Aethe,” he begs simply.

“I can see that.” Aether quirks up an eyebrow, idly smoothing his hands together. The gloves make a soft sound as they rub against each other, one that has Dew letting out an undignified whine.

Aether stops moving his hands, chuckling softly. He puts his hands on his hips and looks at Dew, eyes roaming over every inch of ashen skin laid bare for him.

The fire ghoul wriggles again, tossing his head back against the sheets. “Aether,” he groans.

“You’re cute when you squirm. Why do you like these so much, hm?” He reaches out slowly with one finger, pressing the latex-covered pad to the arch of his foot. He draws a line from Dew’s pointy ankle bone to the inside of his thigh, watching goosebumps rise in its wake.

“Lucifer, hah–oh,” Dew hisses.

“It’s just my finger.”

“No it’s not.”

Aether rolls his eyes. Trails his finger a little higher. “So what is it, then?” He’s just below the swell of Dew’s skinny thigh, almost to the crease between his leg and his groin. Dangerous territory.

Dew cranes his neck to see, throat bobbing when he swallows hard. “Feels weird. Good weird.” He keens when Aether puts his entire hand on his thigh, gripping slightly. “Fuck. Like, it’s your hand, but it’s not, and you’re looking at me like—”

“Like what?”

Dew groans, dropping his head back down as Aether’s hand gets closer. “Fu-cking smug and shit,” he says, screwing his eyes shut. His cock kicks in anticipation, and a drop of precum drools down the head of it and falls onto his stomach. “‘S hot.”

Aether lets go of his thigh, moving his hand upward to hover over his cock. Dew tenses and arches up, sensing it there. But the quintessence ghoul moves it too quickly, reaching instead to swipe through the pearl of precum on his skin and catch it on the tip of his glove.

Dew’s eyes fly open, going exponentially darker when he sees the shine of his own pre on the latex. “Gimme your finger,” he rasps. Kicks his feet against the ropes. “You gotta put it in.”

“Okay, bossy,” Aether smirks, smearing the little bit of fluid onto Dew’s knee. “Just one?” he lilts.

It’s teasing, because he knows Dew wants exactly that. He wants the clinical feel of it all: one finger right where he wants it, just shy of any purposeful stimulation or stretch. A probing more than anything.

He nods fervently, grasping the ties around his hands. He tries to pull himself up to watch the other ghoul better. “Yeah, yeah, with the lube.”

Aether grabs the bottle sitting next to Dew’s ribs and squirts a generous amount of the viscous, medical-grade lube onto his middle finger. The stuff sits on the glove, hardly moving as he turns his hand around to show the little ghoul, fingers wiggling.

Dew groans bodily, bucking his hips up against nothing.

“Relax,” Aether lilts, half teasing, half soothing—purposefully reminiscent of his usual infirmary bedside manner. He smears the cold gel around Dew’s hole, watching as his face contorts in all sorts of pleasured emotion. Far too excited, really, for one finger. The finger that’s not just a finger.

He’d tease him for it if he wasn’t so busy making him moan like a whore just by swirling a gloved digit over his rim.

“Lemme have it, Aethe,” Dew grunts, trying in vain to spear himself on it. His cock wags in the air, more precum slicking down the shaft. “C’mon, you know you wanna stick it in this tight little—ffuuuucking hells yes.”

Aether presses in with ease, sliding home in one motion. He crooks his finger, earning a little gurgling noise and a jerk of the binds from his mate.

“Running a little hotter than normal,” he comments offhandedly. A nod to the role Dew not-so-secretly wants him to play, clad in a white coat with the sterile smell of rubbing alcohol and disinfectant masking his usual effervescent ozone. It’s a fantasy for another time, another setting. Right now, just the hint of the image—courtesy of the gloves and the timbre of his voice—does a fine job of making him needy and breathless.

Dew’s cock kicks again, bobbing upwards. “Fuckin’ wiggle it,” he grits out. “Yeah, get in there.”

“I am. Needy.” Aether huffs.

“Needy for you to touch me,” Dew bites back. “Get that—hah—get that glove on my di-i-ick.” His voice cracks when Aether presses upwards. Petting at that soft spot just inside.

“Uh huh.” The quintessence ghoul grabs the lube again, flicking it open with his thumb and promptly squeezing out a fat glob right onto his cock.

“Cold,” Dew hisses. But he bites his lip and looks down with hazy eyes anyway, watching the way the gel glistens in the lamp light.

“Let me warm it up then,” he rumbles. Aether runs one finger through it first, smearing the lube along the vein that runs down the underside. A shudder runs through Dew’s entire body. He tosses his head back and snaps his tail, arching sharply at the too-light touch.

“Fuck, Aethe—”

“Shh,” he soothes, still tracing lines over his cock to get it shiny and wet. Swirling through the lube over and over, coating even the tops of his balls and in between the sensitive foreskin. “Let me take care of you.”

Aether wraps his fingers around him fully, encasing his cock in a slippery latex grip. Dew practically howls, clenching tightly around that one finger and bucking into Aether’s fist.

“Oh Lucifer,” he wails. “Like that, just like—uh-huh-nholy shit.”

“You don’t have to do any work,” the quintessence ghoul reminds him as he starts to pull at Dew’s cock. “Just lie there and be good for me.”

Dew’s eyes get big then, like a switch going off in his brain. His crooked fangs poke out over his swollen bottom lip as he sucks half of it into his mouth, and he gives Aether a frantic nod.

“That’s right,” he smiles. “Drop that pretty head back down. There you go.”

Aether’s smooth tone has Dew’s eyes rolling back with a quiet whimper, a crimson blush seeping down his face and into the hollow of his throat. His toes curl against the sheets, thighs attempting to press together when Aether twists his hand just so. He only succeeds in pulling the binds taught with a reedy whine. Half gone and plenty desperate.

Aether’s hand slides frictionless along his cock, latex smeared with lube and the precum now steadily leaking out. It’s borderline obscene, the noise it all makes. But the way the slick sound mixes with Dew’s soft noises is some sort of sin all its own—an odd one, sure, with the gloves between them. But it’s an intoxicating sin all the same.

It’s some time before Dew can even think to speak again. His entire body has stiffened under Aether’s careful ministrations, muscles tensing and cock hard and throbbing in his hand.

“Ssshhiiittt,” he hisses. “‘M close,” he chokes out, “‘m so fuckin’ close.”

The quint ghoul presses against his prostate just to make him whimper. “Yeah? You’ve done so well, love. Want me to go faster?”

“Uh huh,” Dew whines. “Please, wanna cum on them.” He tosses his head back and forth with a low groan, getting louder the faster Aether strokes him.

“That’s it—”

“Fuck, ‘m gonna—”

“—all the way, cum for me, let me see it—”

“Aethe oh ohfuuuuck—” Dew clenches his hands into fists around the rope and pulls tight, his cock spitting out cum all over his stomach and Aether’s knuckles. He shoots so hard some of it reaches his stiff nipples, little droplets of white coating the shiny silver barbells running through them. He swears incoherently, clenching around the finger in his ass so tightly he nearly pushes it right out.

“D-don’t stop, don’t fucking stop—” Dew begs, fixing wide eyes on the ghoul above him. He fights them from rolling right back, babbling: “Don’ you fucking stop—Aethe—please.”

“Yeah?” he rasps. The hand still flying over Dew’s cock turns creamy white on the inside of his fist as he milks him for all he’s worth. “Wanna squirt for me?”

Dew chokes on a moan, slipping quickly into overstimulation. “Yes,” he gasps, thrashing his legs. “Make me, fucking make me.”

“All over. All over my hand,” Aether agrees, the idea sending a surge of guilty pleasure right to his core. He tightens his hand, doubling down—just shy of torture, really. And the fire ghoul yelps, face twisted in pleasure-pain, his cheeks turning a bright crimson.

It only takes a few more calculated jerks of his hand before he squirts, each stroke wringing out a filthy hot stream and a pained groan. Over and over until his voice is raw and his heaving chest is covered in his own mess.

“Lucifer, stop fuck,” Dew pleads after a long minute, twitching away from Aether’s hand.

“Fuck,” Aether echoes dazedly as he finally pulls out and away from him. He’s quiet for a moment, watching as Dew sags back onto the mattress and sucks in lungfuls of air. Utterly fucked out and wrung dry. He looks down at his fingers, the gloved digits covered in lube, cum, and piss. Then he looks back at the ghoul spread out before him, so beautifully wrecked from just his hands.

“Wouldn’t take much to get you to cum dry like this, would it?” he asks breathlessly and a little bit giddy.

Dew blinks a few tears away and furrows his brow, dazed and far too fuzzy to process the statement at normal speed. His throat bobs as he tries to re-wet his mouth, the gears in his mind visibly turning and clicking into place. “Shit, Aether, what?” he slurs.

Aether’s mouth twitches up in a momentary smirk. He presses that gloved finger back against his rim, making him squirm against the binds. “Here. If I just . . . gave you one more. Could you cum like that?”

The fire ghoul looks at him, eyes nearly black with how much his pupils are blown out. He can only whimper, craning his neck down to watch Aether’s hand move against his hole. Slow, deliberate. Tantalizing. He presses back in, only as far as the first knuckle. When he wiggles it a bit, Dew’s eyebrows quirk up in the middle, and he nods with his gaze fixed firmly on Aether’s hands.

“Let’s try it, then.”

#of course miasma hits me with this #and of course i write it huh #sigh #ask #miasma #ficlet #the band ghost #ghost fanfic #fanfic #the band ghost fanfic #dewdrop ghoul #aether ghoul #dewther #dewdrop/aether #aether/dewdrop #cw: med kink #cw: piss #dr aether has me in a chokehold #send help

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copperbadge · 7 months

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Happy first day of National Clean Your Home Month! (National Novel Writing Month novelists, happy first day to you as well!)

[ID: Five images; top left, potatoes and chickpeas in golden brown sauce on a round of flatbread. Top right, Dearborn the Tortie is lying on a blanket in my lap, propped up by my legs, looking like a boomerang. Bottom images are, left and center, before-and-after of my front hall, first with a raggedy blue carpet and then clean and carpetless, and bottom right is my newly cleaned kitchen floor.]

Started this morning with what looks like a weird deconstructed apple pie but is actually flatbread topped with curried potatoes and chickpeas (lest you think I'm fancy, it's Trader Joe's Malabari Paratha topped with Tasty Bite Bombay Potatoes). Dearborn is unimpressed by cleaning but she is extremely Shaped. Still, after eating I gave her about half an hour of cuddles, then set to work!

I normally clean before showering because you do get grimy, but I noticed last year that my pajamas are not ideal for cleaning in, so I set aside an outfit to change into, which leaves arms and legs mostly bare and doesn't drape much -- yoga leggings tucked up above the calf and a tight tank top. I'm amusedly referring to it as my Slutty Maid outfit.

Anyway, this morning I put on 99% Invisible's "Devolutionary Design", about Devo's first album cover, and set to work. Polk has been destroying the hallway rug, and the kitchen rug was disgusting, so I pulled both up, rolled 'em up, and tossed them, then cleaned the floors. A coating of goo-gone for old carpet tape residue followed by a brief sponge scrub, then a spritz of Grease Lightning cleaner-degreaser and a scrub with the steam mop for both the hall and the kitchen, had them looking at least better.

Cleaning is complicated by the Kitchen Protocol I've had to introduce; the kitchen has a wheat weevil issue, which is pernicious but oddly benign -- after having mice several years ago, all my food is always contained in either a sealed jar/tupperware or its original packaging and they haven't actually ever got into the food, they just live under the kitchen linoleum. In any case, any kitchen cleaning I do in a day has to be the last cleaning I do, and anything coming out of the kitchen first needs to be treated with undilute white vinegar, then rinsed and treated a second time with bleach, to prevent spreading the weevils to other areas of the house. I'm also spraying down all the floors with dilute vinegar frequently.

Anyway, the steam mop is now out of commission until its freshly bleached fabric pad dries, but it did take me exactly the length of the podcast to set up, clean, and clear away the cleaning supplies/wash the sponge afterward, so I'm pleased with the day's work.

Disposable nitrile gloves used count: 1.

Tomorrow's tasks: vacuum all over, then figure out the carpet shampooer I was given, and if I manage that, shampoo the rugs.

#naclyoho #national clean your home month #cleaning #food

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agentmarvel · 2 months

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I am absolutely in love with your Nikto Writing. And if you still take prompts (With the emojis) could i ask for one?

Lots of love! -C.

🩷🔪 - "favourite Medic"

oh, i'll be taking prompts for the foreseeable future bc i love these so much! feel free to send more if the desire so strikes!🖤

nikto x fem!reader

cw: none

prompt list here

mdni - 18+; minors and ageless blogs will be blocked

"I'm sorry for the wait," you murmur, pulling the curtain shut behind you. "But you really should've let Hannah stitch you up."

Nikto shakes his head firmly, eyes glued to you. He doesn't trust anyone else. You sigh, taking a pair of pink nitrile gloves from a box on the wall and slipping them on. None of the other medics used the pink ones; they all use blue or black.

"Alright, then. Let's see the damage."

He stands, and you keep an appropriate distance as he shucks his tactical gear and unfastens his belt. You're very polite, averting your gaze as his pants hit the floor. That's one of the things he likes most about you. You're so thoughtful, always conscious of the comfort of company.

Sitting back down, he taps his finger against the frame, alerting you that he's finished. You turn back to him and immediately shake your head, tsking with disapproval at the sight of the lengthy knife wound on his thigh.

"Wanna tell me how you managed this?"

He cracks a smirk beneath his mask, chest jumping with a silent chuckle. You raise an eyebrow, threading your needle with care. It's a challenge, trying to con a few extra words out of him this visit. But he merely shrugs instead. The mirth in his eyes is clarification enough, or so it would seem as you smile up at him before turning your focus to his injury.

"Would you prefer to tell me why you didn't let someone else help you, then?"

"You're my favorite medic," he admits gruffly, tempering the winces that accompany each puncture of your stitches. Briefly, you pause, chancing a glance up at him. You apparently see the sincerity in his reciprocal gaze. The corners of your lips turn up just a little wider, teeth peeking out behind your pretty lips.

"Just don't expect me to kiss this one better, okay?"

#nikto x reader #nikto x you #cod x reader #cod x you #jj writes #unblock my brain prompts

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theclairvoyage · 3 months

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Centrifugation: Chapter 1

plasmadonor!Joel x f!reader

You’re the star phlebotomist at the local plasma center, and the job has been increasingly mundane as of late… until a new and handsome Texan donor comes to the center and changes that, and the rest your life.

Series Masterlist

Series warnings:

AU, M/F, Age gap (20 years)-reader’s YOB is 1995 (purely coincidental lolol), eventual SMUT, blood, needles, & plasma talk (nothing too graphic, I promise!), a bit of blasphemy, criticism of religion, mentions of death, divorce, angst, fluffity fluff fluff, alcohol consumption, violence. Individual chapters will have specific warnings.

FYI – this work contains criticisms of religion and reader is atheist/agnostic. Feel free to scroll if this offends you. If you decide to read, remember that even if you are religious, this is not an attack on you, but rather ideology. And remember the tenets of religious freedom. Everyone has the right to believe – and NOT to believe – in the things you do.

Plasma Center UrbanDict:

Stick = venipuncture

PR = permanent rejection, aka permanent deferral

Reception = where donors have vitals taken to determine if they are suitable to donate

Donor Floor = where the magic happens, baby! Where donation occurs, aka sticks with big 17G needles

Processing = where units of plasma are sampled and frozen

This is my first ever fic! Excited to share all of it with you. I'm new to posting this kind of stuff on Tumblr, so please forgive rookie formatting and whatnot. Hope you enjoy! As of 03/10/24, I have 6 chapters written - I'm juggling my writing with finishing my MPH degree, so my schedule might be a little spotty until mid-May.

Chapter 1

Chapter warnings: blood, needles, & plasma talk, light violence.

WC: 3.7k

Friday, October 15th | 0755

You turn into the parking lot at the plasma center, a little later than your usual 10 minutes early. Your shift is at 8, so you don’t have much time to walk to the center, clock in, grab your coat and face shield and get to work. Thankfully, the parking lot is just across the street. As soon as you step out of your car, downtown Omaha greets you with the familiar scents of cigarette smoke and fall air, along with the sounds of the city buses and commuters chugging along.

It’s a nice morning. Living in Nebraska means you get to experience the peaks and valleys of all four seasons, and during fall, this means the leaves of what few trees are in the downtown area are painted lovely hues of orange, yellow, and even red – if you’re lucky enough to find a scarlet or pin oak tree.

The plasma center parking lot is shared with employees and donors, and it’s packed this morning. Not a great sign. You walk up to the back employee entrance and punch in the code. The keypad beeps and lights up green and you pull open the ages-old, heavy-as-hell door and make your way to the break room.

The donor waiting area is just outside the break room door, and you can tell by how full it is that it’s going to be a long day, confirming your earlier suspicions in the parking lot. Somebody definitely called in, you think. Great. Punching in the same code as before, you enter the break room, throw your stuff in your locker, and clock in.

As soon as you’re on the Donor Floor, donned with your white lab coat, blue nitrile gloves, and face shield, one of your best phlebotomists and good friend Keri approaches, looking flustered as hell.

“Jesus, thank fuck you’re here,” she sighs, taking a deep breath and raising her eyebrows at you. She smooths back her frizzy hair and sets down her face shield on the counter next to you.

“Are we short today, or did corporate send out some bonus texts to half of Omaha?” you say, checking the Donor Queue on the computer. 15 people waiting, average wait time of 43 minutes. Fucking clean up time, I guess.

“Two call-outs, but they’re newbies, so it wouldn’t have mattered, really,” she says. “Definite yes on the bonus texts. Regulars are all pissed off because they didn’t get any.” You roll your eyes and sigh. To get more donors in, the company you work for has been sending bonus texts to donors that haven’t been in in a while, which really ticks off the regular, twice-a-week donors. It’s all about meeting that liters budget.

“Where do you need me? Breaks need to be sent?” you ask her. You’re the lead phlebotomist, but you always check in with whoever opened before you make any decisions. Keri nods. “Send Blake to break, he’s got an open section now and we’ve got to get these wait times down.” You grab your mobile phlebotomy device and head that way.

Each phlebotomist can have a maximum of 6 donors in their section. You see Blake cleaning up the machine from his last disconnect, leaving you an empty section. “You can head to break, I’ll take over here,” you say, helping him wipe down the now-empty donor bed.

“Thanks… really happy that you’re here. It’s been a shit show today,” he says, walking away from the section toward the break room. You groan and head up to the front near the waiting area, grab a chart, and start climbing the mountain.

Thursday, October 15th | 1230

The morning turned out to be an absolute disaster. You quickly filled up your section once you sent Blake to break, apologizing to every donor you sat for the wait times. Most were understanding. There were a few that gave you an eye roll or a shrug. A few left the center, not wanting to be late for work. The fall is generally a busy time at the center, with people seeking extra money for football tailgates and games, college students needing extra money for just about everything, and parents stocking up early on holiday savings.

Thankfully, Keri, you, and the rest of the morning Donor Floor crew knocked the Queue down to 3 donors and wait times down to 10 minutes. Once the last morning break was done, they came over and sent you to your lunch. Delighted, you took off your sweaty coat and hung it up, washed your hands at the sink by the coat rack, and headed to the break room.

Before you’re able to punch in the door code, a deep, velvety voice stops you.

“Uh, miss? Can you point me in the right direction?”

You turn and look in the direction of the voice and see a taller man with dark, silvery-streaked curly hair, tanned skin and pensive brown eyes staring at you. He’s donning a red flannel that squeezes his broad shoulders and ropy arm muscles, and dark wash Levi’s that have the outline of his wallet imprinted in the front right pocket. He’s definitely a blue-collar guy, not unlike a lot of the current donors. Must be a new donor, you think. Damn, he looks good. You feel a little zap in your chest, not unlike the fingerstick donors get during screening.

“Hi! Are you a new donor?” You ask, turning on your customer service voice in hopes of calming your nerves. You step back from the door and walk toward him. He’s got a small white paper slip in hand, which tells you he needs his veins checked, so he must be new.

“Yes ma’am, need someone ‘ta look at my veins. Been here before, but it’s been a long time,” he says, watching you approach him and giving you the once-over. Twice-over. Your pulse quickens. His voice is like icing, dripping with a sweet Southern accent and mushing your insides. You smile and take the paper from him, hoping that you aren’t blushing.

“Roll up your sleeves for me and let’s take a look,” you say, watching him roll up the sleeves of his red flannel. He’s got thick, veiny forearms that are tanned and covered with freckles. He wears a watch on his left wrist that you assume hasn’t been removed in years, judging by the pure white skin peeking underneath. His hands are big and scarred. Definitely works with his hands, you think. He has a small, circle-shaped scar on his right arm near the venipuncture site, so he was telling the truth about donating plasma before. You grab a tourniquet hanging on the cabinet near the chart area, wrap it on his upper arm, and feel. His veins are huge and muscular, and you realize you didn’t need the tourniquet in the first place. Rookie mistake.

“Guess I really don’t need this,” you say, removing the tourniquet and feeling his ropy veins with your index finger. His skin is warm under your clammy finger. He chuckles. “Heard that one before,” he says. You laugh and make eye contact with him, noticing the crinkles at the corners of his eyes and his salt and pepper beard. His gaze is amiable and filled with something else you can’t quite pinpoint, and your stomach twists. You look away before you can decipher it.

“I don’t think you’ll have any issues with the stick,” you say, and he laughs. “Are you hydrated? Had a good meal in the last hour or two?” You ask, writing your name on the vein check slip and circling “Pass.” You see the name Joel Miller written at the top.

“Yes ma’am, I do a lot of workin’ outside and with my hands, so I know better,” he says, confirming your earlier assumption. His voice is sending a wave of tingles from your ears to your neck, and you feel goosebumps start to erupt in their pathway.

“Good man, Joel,” you say, noticing him perk up at you saying his name, “Take this back to the front desk and we’ll get you processed as quickly as we can.” He nods, gives you a handsome-as-fuck lopsided smile, and walks back to the front. You head back to the break room and turn to glance at him once more to find that he's already looking at you. Fuck, you think, looking back at the door. Don’t need a hot donor making me feel nervous like this. He’s older than you, but he might be the most handsome guy you’ve ever seen. You can only imagine how homely you look, clad in your scrubs and sweaty from the morning hustle and bustle.

You see every part of humanity at your job: young and old, foreign and domestic, all races and ethnicities, handsome and near homeless. There have been a few men that have caught your eye, and a few that you’ve met up with outside of the center, but none like this one. As tedious and mundane as the job can be, it’s the people that make it exciting, especially attractive ones. Well, hopefully he passes screening so I can see him on the Donor Floor, you think, contemplating what you’re going to get for lunch in the short time that you have.

Thursday, October 15th | 1430

Your break went by too fast. You decided on some fast-food place just across the street from the center. It’s good and cheap, but you know the greasy food is going to put you in a late-afternoon lull. Oh well. After you got back, the lobby was still relatively empty, so you started working on doing the monthly machine cleanings in the meantime.

The plasmapheresis machines are complicated and like everything else in the plasma center, they come with lots of rules and regulations. You’re a seasoned pro, though, so the cleaning and documentation are a breeze. You’re heading over to clean the last of the machines in the third row of the Donor Floor when you see a familiar, handsome head of dark salt-and-pepper curls walk behind Keri to one of the donor beds in the first row. He smiles at you as he lies on the donor bed, and you feel your cheeks heat and curl up into a smile of their own. Get a fucking grip. You’re relieved that Keri is taking care of him, because you’re nervous just seeing him in your work area. You can only imagine how shaky your hands would be with a needle if you were the one sticking him.

While cleaning the machines in the third row, you periodically look over at Joel and Keri. Keri is great with the donors, and it’s evident when you see Joel laughing with her. Each time you look up, he’s either already looking at you or looks up right after you do. You try to play it off like you’re scanning over all the donors, making sure everything is going as it should, but the sweat sheen forming on your face and neck betray you.

You see the light on his machine turn green, indicating he’s been stuck and is running smoothly. You imagine what it would’ve been like to feel his veins again, feeling his warm, tan skin underneath your fingers… and underneath other things, like—

“Oh my god, that man is such a charmer… and asked about you at least three times,” Keri states, snapping you out of your horny daydream. Your eyes widen and you turn so he can’t see your face from where he’s seated.

“Shhh! Keep your voice down!” You hiss, making both of you giggle. “What was he saying?”

“Oh, nothing much, just asking what the cute girl that checked his veins was doing all the way over here,” she smirks. “He used to donate here over 25 years ago when the center first opened up. Can you believe he’s that old? He does NOT look like it.” Odd, you think. He didn’t sound like he was from here when you spoke to him earlier. Wait, did he say I was cute? Blushing at his remark about your appearance, you remember the scar on his arm and think he’s probably telling the truth. “Wow, he looks good. How old is he?” Keri pulls him up on her mobile phlebotomy handheld and you see he was born in 1975. Damn. 20 years older than you.

Before you and Keri can gush further about Joel, the front door slams shut, echoing throughout the center and catching everyone off-guard. You watch as one of the younger regular donors, Cedric, storms past Reception and the donor waiting area over to the Donor Floor front desk, near where you checked Joel’s veins earlier. He practically spits your name, his brows pinched in a rage.

“Cedric, is everything alright?” You ask, approaching the front desk slowly. The once-noisy Donor Floor is quiet, save for the quiet whirring and clicking of the machines. Donors not wearing headphones are anxiously watching the front desk. You give Cedric the once-over and notice that his arm wrap is soaked with blood, and some of it has gotten on his white shirt and shorts and the floor around him. First rule of donating: Never wear white to a plasma center, dude.

“Does it fucking look alright? My arm wasn’t wrapped right and now I have blood everywhere!” he fumes. The entire Donor Floor is watching, including Joel and poor Blake, who must’ve disconnected Cedric. Blake approaches tentatively, tail between his legs, but you put your hand up to him, saying I’ll take care of this. Blake gives you a thankful nod and tiptoes back to his section.

“Cedric, I’m sorry about that. Come over to the sink and I’ll rewrap it for you,” you say, putting a fresh pair of gloves on. “Keri, can you clean up the blood spots with bleach, please?” You ask. She nods and grabs a Clorox bottle near the front desk, putting her face shield on and quickly walking around Cedric to search for the path of blood droplets. Cedric raises his voice again.

“Not good enough. I need that kid fired for his incompetence!” he points aggressively at Blake, flinging some blood droplets on the arm of your coat and on the front desk.

“Everybody makes mistakes, Cedric. Blake is a great employee. We can fix this. Let’s get you cleaned up, and maybe we can compensate you a little extra on your next donation,” you offer. But Cedric isn’t having it. He rips off the arm wrap and gauze and throws them at you while screaming expletives. The bloodied wrap nearly hits your face shield. Oh, hell no. He’s a long-term donor, so he’s probably clean, but it’s too close for comfort.

“Blake, call Trina and call the cops. Get this guy out of here. Cedric, don’t ever come back to this place,” you calmly instruct, walking backwards to find a biohazard container a safe distance from Cedric, never turning away from him. Trina, your manager, doesn’t put up with this kind of stuff and will make sure he’s permanently deferred.

“Fuck you, bitch!” Cedric yells, sprinting out of the center with two fingers on his free hand holding his venipuncture site, some blood dripping underneath. Once the front door slams shut, you turn around and take off all your PPE and toss it in the biohazard container, saving your nametag and pen. Frustrated and tired, you walk to the sink to wash your hands. Keri and Trina approach you.

“You alright, hon?” Trina asks. She’s a good manager, always looking out for her employees. She used to work on the Donor Floor, so she’s no stranger to these kinds of mishaps. Tensions can be hefty in this area – some donors are desperate for money, some fear needles more than death itself, and some are just grumps. Phlebotomists usually get the brunt of it.

“Yeah, I’m fine, just need to cool off. I told Blake to call the cops.” She nods.

“Go ahead. When the police get here, they’ll want your statement, so I’ll come find you then… I’ll put in the PR now,” she says, giving your arm a supportive squeeze before walking back toward the offices. You give her a pained smile and look to Keri, equally concerned as Trina. “Take your afternoon break, love. I’ll handle everything else,” she says. “Thanks, Ker. I’m gonna step in the freezer to cool off and then I’ll go.” She nods. You head toward Processing, located at the opposite end of the center. Processing has two giant walk-in freezers that always maintain temps of -40ºC – great for keeping fresh plasma frozen solid and an instant cool down.

You step in one of the freezers, shutting the heavy door behind you. You walk over to the fans and stand underneath. The sweat on your neck and back quickly freezes in its downward track, leaving behind a sting that could soon turn to frostbite. It doesn’t take long to cool off here, and anybody staying in for longer than a minute is supposed to put on a heavy coat, gloves, and a ski mask. It’s a popular spot for blistering summer days and after heated interactions like this. Satisfied with the pink blooming on your fingers and the crunch of your frozen, sweaty hair, you step out of the freezer and make your way outside for your break.

Once at the picnic table at the outdoor employee break area, you do a quick scan for Cedric. You can see the trails of blood drops leading to and from his car, and an empty space where his car must’ve been parked. Heaving a sigh of relief, you plop down at the table and massage your temples. Fuck… glad this day is almost over.

“Sweetheart, you alright?” A soothing, Southern voice rings in your ear and you look up, seeing Joel approach from his truck. He says your name, surprising you. Keri must’ve told him it while she was going through the process with him.

You take this moment to return the once-over he gave you earlier. Twice-over. His sleeves are still rolled up and you can see his arm wrap. His jeans crinkle at the hip with each step, his strong, toned quads flexing as each foot contacts the pavement. You can only imagine what he looks like from behind. His cowboy boots are worn, the leather cracking around the toes. He’s probably the type to wear a pair until they crumble to bits. He walks with a quiet bravado, taking long, smooth strides until he reaches you at the table.

You’ve no doubt you look exhausted. Though your sweat has frozen, you can feel how frizzy your hair is, especially around your face. Your eyes sting with fatigue and the skin underneath your eyelids tug downward. Your throat feels dry and tight, like you might cry soon. He must notice because the look in his eyes morphs from concern to anger.

“Hi, Joel,” you state, forcing a smile. “I’m okay. Not my first rodeo,” you wink, giving him a sarcastic “yee-haw” motion. He laughs, but his eyes betray him, still showing anger.

“Mind if I sit?” He motions to the spot across from you.

“No, go ahead, but the cops are on their way and who knows if Cedric will be back,” you caution him. He waves you off.

“That fuckin’ kid don’t scare me, and I saw everythin’ anyway. I can talk to the cops if you ain’t comfortable,” he says. He puts his hands on the backs of yours, and you feel another zap in your chest like you did when you first saw him earlier. You notice now that he doesn’t have a wedding ring.

“Thanks, but you don’t have to. I’m well versed in this department,” you say, feeling the tears reaching their boiling point. You do everything you can to keep them in, but one betrays you and falls down your cheek. Angry that you’re crying in front of Joel, you try to move your hand out from underneath his to wipe the tear, but he beats you to it.

“It’s okay, darlin’. You did the right thing, stickin’ up for your people,” he soothes, his thumb wiping your tear from your face. He moves his hand to cup your jaw and swipes his thumb gently over your cheek. His angry eyes softened back to concerned.

For what feels like an eternity, the two of you stare at each other, exchanging more communication nonverbally than words could ever. He’s looking at each of your eyes back and forth, and you feel yourself start to get embarrassed under his hot stare. You try to turn your head away from his gaze, but his hand stops you. “You’re alright, darlin’, got nothin’ to be ashamed of here,” he says, reading your mind. You bring your hand up from the table to gently grasp his arm as a sign of appreciation. His gaze follows and he swallows loudly.

“Thank you,” you say, giving him a genuine, close-lipped smile. His eyes move to your lips and then quickly dart back to your eyes, like you caught him doing something forbidden. He removes his hands and stands up, walking over to your side. He offers a hand to help you up and you accept, letting him pull you to your feet.

“Sorry your first visit back here was so crazy,” you say, and he laughs. “Hopefully next time it’s not so… exciting.” He moves his hand up to your shoulder and gives it a quick squeeze before dropping it. A tingle rips up your spine.

“Oh, I’m sure it will be.” He gives you that same look that he did earlier, the one where you couldn’t quite figure out what it meant. This time, though, you think you know exactly what it means. Your stomach somersaults.

“I’ll see you soon, darlin’. Hopefully your day gets better,” he says, turning to walk toward his truck. Once he gets to the driver’s side door, he turns to look at you again and pauses. You stand and stare at him, wanting to say something in return, but too overwhelmed by all your emotions. He smiles and gets in the truck, starting it and driving off while watching you with a small wave. You smile as he leaves.

Fuck.

Next Chapter

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller smut #joel miller #centrifugation #pedro pascal fandom

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321spongebolt · 1 year

Photo

Leni’s hair exposed while wearing her nurse outfit, now while wearing blue nitrile gloves.

Credit for Leni artwork goes to @cartoonavatars-blog

#the loud house #loud house #the loud house fan art #leni loud #nurse outfit #leni loud as a nurse #disposable gloves #nitrile disposable gloves #nitrile gloves #blue nitrile gloves #light blue nitrile gloves #medical gloves #medical exam gloves #transparent artwork #transparent image #transparent images #vector art #vector #vectors

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topbanana325 · 11 months

Text

Everything You Need to Know About Latex Gloves

Latex gloves have become an essential item in various fields, including healthcare, laboratories, and even everyday tasks. These gloves provide a protective barrier between the wearer and potentially harmful substances. Here's everything you need to know about latex gloves:

Material and Construction: Latex gloves are made from natural rubber latex, derived from the sap of rubber trees. They are known for their elasticity, flexibility, and superior fit. The gloves are usually manufactured through a dipping process, where molds are dipped into the latex solution and then dried to form the glove shape.\

Barrier Protection: Latex gloves offer excellent barrier protection against biological and chemical agents. They are effective in preventing the transmission of bacteria, viruses, and other pathogens. However, it's important to note that latex gloves are not resistant to all chemicals, so it's crucial to choose the right glove for the specific task.

Allergies: While latex gloves are widely used, some individuals may develop allergic reactions to latex proteins. These allergies can range from mild skin irritations to severe anaphylaxis. If you or someone you know has a latex allergy, it is important to opt for alternative glove options such as nitrile or vinyl.

Proper Usage and Disposal: Latex gloves should be used appropriately to ensure maximum effectiveness. Hands should be washed and dried before putting on gloves to prevent contamination. Additionally, gloves should be disposed of properly after each use to prevent the spread of germs.

Alternative Options: If latex allergies are a concern, there are alternative glove options available. Nitrile gloves are a popular choice as they offer similar barrier protection without the risk of latex allergies. Vinyl gloves are another alternative, although they provide less resistance to punctures and chemicals.

In conclusion, latex gloves are a vital tool for maintaining safety and hygiene in various industries. Understanding their material, usage, and potential allergies can help you make informed decisions when selecting gloves for your specific needs. Always prioritize safety and choose the right gloves for the task at hand.

Shop Top Banana Latex Gloves for superior protection and comfort. Made from high-quality natural rubber latex, these gloves provide a secure fit and reliable barrier against pathogens and chemicals. Stay safe and choose Top Banana for all your latex glove needs.

#Nitrile gloves #Black nitrile gloves #Blue nitrile gloves #Nitrile gloves Melbourne

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whumpbump · 1 month

Text

Stop Fighting Me

Cw: emeto, noncon drugging, blood, mcd

As the car sped down the winding road, Hero began to retch.

Looking back in the mirror, Villain said “Not on the seats!” But they were too late as Hero spread an ocean of bile across the suede upholstery.

Wiping their mouth, Hero groggily began to cry out in apology. Tears running, snot bubbling, they felt so awful. If not for the poison and antidote battling it out in their system for dominance, Hero would have made a stronger effort to get their head out the window. If they would’ve lost their composure at all at that point.

Focusing back on the road, Villain tsked to themselves before grumbling “it’s ok, you can’t help it but you’re damn well gonna be cleaning it up after you’re better.”

12 hours earlier:

Villain slunk back into their living room with an ice pack, turning on the television to the local news. “-once again, Team Super has defeated Villain. Will Villain EVER learn?” The broadcasters chuckled. Villain chuckled back mockingly but watched like a hawk for Hero’s big moment. After all, they were the one that delivered the devastating blow to Villain’s pride.. and face.

After seeing Hero accept their valor medal, they sent a text from their burner cell to Hero, fuming.

‘Do you think you could’ve hit me any harder today? That fucking hurt.’

‘I’m sorry, the Team has been getting suspicious of why I never bring you in. I had to make it believable and you’re a terrible actor. Love you. xoxo’

Sighing, Villain laid back and let the pain killers take effect as their face changed to shades of purple and blue.

Back at Team Super’s base, Team Leader stood at the head of the table looking at all but one of their teammates. Hero was on their way to the debriefing of the morning fight. Late, again.

“Let’s start.”

“Hero’s not here, Team Leader.”

“I know. Hero really surprised us out there today and with it being caught on the news, we can’t kick Hero off the Team now.”

Team Leader held up a small vial of clear liquid.

“I propose-“

Hero burst through the door apologizing profusely, something about needing to text their mother, wouldn’t happen again, couldn’t leave mom on read again.. they stopped when they didn’t receive the usual jeering responses. Looking around, they saw their peers’ eyes darting back and forth.

“Wh-what?”

Quickly palming the vial to the closest Team Member, Team Leader turned to Hero and said “well, you proved you can certainly save the day! We were planning your congratulatory party as the newest member of the Team. Great job out there today.”

Hero blushed and took their seat as the Team resumed their meeting. They hoped that their poor excuse of defending the town with doling out a single black eye would be enough to keep the waters calm for now.

“-and Hero?”

Embarrassed for being caught off guard, their eyes shot up at Team Leader.

“Don’t be late to your own party. It starts at 5pm sharp.”

They were all smiles as they left for their dorm to tell Villain.

‘Ok but just be careful. I don’t trust them not to do something to you.’

‘You’re just jealous you’re not getting a party thrown in your honor lol.’

Villain rolled their eyes. Ouch, that hurt actually. They sighed in discontent as they dragged themselves to their closet to pull out their nice clothes. Something wasn’t right. Weeks of complaining to Villain about bullying and borderline abuse to now having a party thrown for them all for giving Villain a black eye, this wasn’t Villain’s first rodeo. Something was wrong. The Team Super THEY knew was definitely up to something.

At 5pm on the dot, Hero stepped in front of a crowd and was handed a drink by Team Leader to give a speech. At 4:57pm, Villain watched a member of Team Super secretively pour a vial into Hero’s cup as people mingled.

Following from a safe distance, they watched Team Member toss the vial into the trash and circle back to the group. Snapping on nitrile gloves, Villain pulled out the vial carefully to read the label. “Oh thank goodness I have the antidote to that.”

The crowd began to cheer and Villain hurried over to see Hero lift their glass and take a large swig.

Villain knew time was running out as soon as the poison hit Hero’s mouth so they bustled over feigning excitement to congratulate Hero for their victory.

Trying to get Hero away from everyone was going to be a problem. Team Super was surrounding Hero. Ok deep breath, here we go.

“Hero!! Hero I’m your biggest fan!” Villain flailed their arms around, garnering everyone’s attention. Hero blushed and looked at their team for help. Team Member turned towards Villain, not recognizing them without their mask, and quietly asked them to step aside.

“I want to talk to Hero! They saved my LIFE today! I must THANK them!”

People were starting to stare as Hero pushed through, sweat starting to bead on their forehead. Through labored breathing, they focused their eyes on Villain, trying to smile genuinely. Villain pushed a drink containing the antidote into Hero’s hand.

“HERE Hero, a drink on me! For SAVING me!”

The crowd cheered. Smiling with a dopey expression, they knocked back the entire thing.

Ok, good, good. Now for an exit strategy… Villain was interrupted by Team Leader who politely smiled, took Hero by the shoulders, and said “I think Hero has had one too many. Thank you and goodnight!” The crowd cheered once more.

Shit. Ok, where are they taking Hero? Villain stayed back but watched Hero be escorted out to the back of the building to a waiting car. Perfect! Villain took off toward a side exit.

Sneaking around the building, they saw Team Leader shoving Hero into the back of the car as Hero weakly pushed at them to get off.

“Nnnno I-I wanna stay.”

“Sorry Hero, you uh-heh you don’t look that well. I’ll take you home. Look, I warmed the car up for you and everything.”

Sending Team Member back in, Team Leader said “it’ll kick in soon, I’ll drop them outside city limits in the woods. We’ll tell them Hero went on to bigger better things.”

As they exchanged words, Villain scurried around the car, opened the door, and took off as the teammates parted.

“HEY!” Team Leader and Team Member took off after the car for 15 feet or so before Team Leader grabbed Team Member’s arm. “Keep the party going, no one is to know about this. I will handle it.”

Team Leader took flight, high above the trees and looked for the taillights.

Present time:

Villain checked the rear view mirror to check on Hero again when they saw two glowing eyes closing in.

“Crap. Team Leader is almost on us. Evasive maneuvering, hang tight!”

As Villain sped down the road, they came up to a red light. Without thinking, they passed through the intersection leaving honking cars in their wake.

“hEY! That was a RED LIGHT!”

“Keep your focus on NOT vomiting on my seats, thank you.”

After taking a few quick turns, they pulled into Villain’s driveway.

Throwing open the back door of the car, Villain grabbed Hero from under their arms to hoist them up only to be met with flailing arms.

“NO! NO! Those were my FRIENDS!” Hero belched, tasting bile and felt it rise in their throat. Seeing them turn green, Villain dragged them to the grass. Hero tried to push Villain away again once they were done. Desperate, Villain shook them by the shoulders gently.

“Stop fighting me, Hero, they tried to kill you.”

“W-what?”

“Come on, let’s get inside. I’ll tell you more inside.”

“No! You tell me now!”

“Please, Team Leader will be here any minute. Let’s just go inside.”

“W-We should ask Team Leader for their side of the story.”

“How stupid are you?! Team Leader tried to poison you!” Villain was losing composure. Tears threatened to fall as their voice wavered. Hero was their person. Their love. How could they not see the team was acting against them?

Hero stiffened at the insult. Villain reached for their hand only for theirs to be slapped away.

Staggering, Hero tried to stay upright but was doing poorly.

“Please, my dearest, I’m sorry. You’re not stupid but you’re very, very sick. Let me help you.”

Weeping openly as snot dripped, Hero gagged and vomited for the third time. Having enough of waiting, Villain escorted a weak Hero into their home and down to their basement.

At that moment, Team Leader flew overhead and stopped, taking notice of the car and vomit. “You thought you could get hide,” Team Leader chuckled to themself as they broke the back door open. Knowing neither would be in top fighting shape, they entered without care.

Villain apologized profusely as they set up an IV line for Hero. “This will only hurt for a second-“

They never finished their sentence. They were shot across the room in an electric blast coming from Team Leader’s open hand.

Slipping into a coma, the last thing Hero saw was Team Leader standing over them.

Alt ending A (Villain and Hero die)

“Tsk, tsk, poor Hero. How could Villain do such a terrible thing to you?”

As Villain watched from across the room, blood spilling from their mouth onto their dress clothes, Team Leader took a nearby syringe and injected air into Hero’s heart. They waited a minute for Hero’s breathing to stop. An unusually clean death on Team Leader’s part, but hey. They can’t be caught for murdering someone, now can they?

Turning to Villain, they smiled wickedly. “Looks like you two can be together after all. In the afterlife.”

Team Leader left after delivering a swift kick to Villain’s chest.

Villain’s eyes glazed over as death took hold of them. There, they would stay, gazing at their love until some poor, unfortunate soul disturbs their tomb.

Alt ending B (no one dies but Team Leader wins)

Villain picked themself out of a hole in the drywall. Spitting out blood, they turned a murderous gaze onto Team Leader.

“Step. Back.”

Team Leader smiled pleasantly.

“And if I don’t?”

“I’ll-“

“You’ll what. Kill me? You won’t. Actually. Because you’re under arrest.”

Cops swarmed the basement in riot gear and overtook Villain immediately. Hero was removed and airlifted to the Team Super Headquarters where a med bay was prepared.

Villain was sentenced to life in prison. They may as well have died that day, they would never know if Hero was ok and they would never be the same.

Hero was kept in their coma with no attempts to wake them. It was better this way. The public was outraged at Villain, Hero couldn’t testify, no one had to die. That was the end of it.

Alt ending C (happy ending)

A warm sensation. It traveled up and down Hero’s arm. They opened their eyes to see Villain absentmindedly rubbing their arm. They squeezed Villain’s hand to let them know they were present.

Villain pulled their eyes away from the news station reporting the most recent update from the current court case City vs. Team Super to give out an excited yell.

“You’re back!”

Smiling, Hero nodded.

“You kept fighting. I knew you would.”

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saintbleeding · 1 year

Photo

[ID: Digital art based on ‘The Anatomy Lesson of Dr. Nicolaes Tulp’ by Rembrandt, depicting the anatomy class from MAG 034. At the right of the image, Dr Lionel Elliott sits by an examination table, wearing a collared shirt with the sleeves rolled up, reading glasses, and blue nitrile gloves. He holds a scalpel in one hand. On the table, there is a hairless cadaver, with post-mortem lividity down one side of its body, with its eyes and mouth slightly open. The rest of the image is dominated by seven students, who all wear white shirts and blue jeans. Their necks are all conspicuously slightly too long, and their skin and hair are all in tones unrealistically bright and saturated, with each wearing unconvincing smiles and looking at the viewer, except for one student who looks with great interest at the torso of the cadaver, and another student who looks intently at Dr Elliott. In her hand there is a sheet of paper on which are written notes. There is the heading “the insides” in all-caps, underneath which are written “gooey”, “survivable if missing (?)”, and “recyclable :)”. One of the figures matches the description of Not!Graham given in MAG 003, and one of them has transfigured his hand to resemble the hand of the cadaver. End ID.]

this one is directly thanks to @annabelle--cane who truly has Such A Mind

also i realised this wouldn’t carry to ppl who aren’t me, but the dude in the middle with the floppy hair matches my danny design :~) (im crying dw abt it)

#we love wholesome students getting an education!!!#the magnus archives #tma #anatomy class tma #the stranger #tma the stranger #art as tma #<- gosh it's nice to use that tag again!!#dead body #death #corpse #blades #uncanny #eye contact #ask to tag!!#my #saint draws #(also yes i knwo the ginger bloke looks like that one meme. i noticed like halffway thru and i was like u know what. i stand by it)

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hotelsuppliesdepot · 2 years

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If you're looking for a high-quality medical glove, you can't go wrong with blue nitrile. These Blue Nitrile Medical Gloves is commonly used in essential areas such as hospitals. They are also powder-free, so you don't have to worry about them leaving behind any residue. Blue nitrile gloves are available in a variety of sizes, so you can find the perfect fit for your hands.

#Blue Nitrile Medical Gloves

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consult-sherlockholmes · 4 months

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Hello, Mr. Holmes! How are you?

So, long story short, I ended up with an optical microscope in my room more or less 4 months ago, with 200 previously made slides (secured in a proper box), and lots of new ones too, for me to prepare myself. I love microbiology (it's one of my hyperfixations, curse my neurodivergency) and now I love it even more (my mother has had to drag me away from the microscope - I named it Wesley - in the middle of the night multiple times now).

After much conversation, I finally convinced my mom to buy me the proper equipment to prepare the slides!

So, I'm sending this ask to you, as I know you also have a microscope and that you use it a lot: what kind of equipment do you recommend me buying (gloves, scalpel blades, tints, etc), while still remembering that all of the stuff needs to stay in my room (properly taken cared of by me, of course)?

For example, I'm unsure if different dyes are used for different smears and specimens due to it's affinity (I've noticed that on 'organic matter' slides, images are usually tinted purple or pink, while on plant-based slides, images are usually tinted green and blue, with a few red structures.) Considering that I don't have access to a mortuary, I will mostly make plant slides. There must be a difference in the dyes then, right?

Sorry for the long text! Hope this isn't too much of a bother.

- a 17-year-old :)

Congratulations on your new light microscope. I do hope you get the best out of it. I am overjoyed that someone else appreciates the art of microscopy and microbiology.

However, you need to be careful to not strain your eyes. It is recommended to take breaks every 15 minutes to close your eyes or focus on something in the distance to reaccommodate your eyes. And get up every 40 minutes, stretch and correct your posture. And it is recommended to not use a microscope more than 5 hours per day. John has to chase me away from my microscope sometimes to take a break when I sit there for hours, my posture like a Caridea.

Concerning equipment, you will obviously need a scalpel or other sharp blade to make very thin slices of your specimen, as thin as possible. And forceps to move your samples (best just get a whole dissection kit it has everything). Obviously slides and coverslips, pipettes for the stains or water, maybe some tubes. A pen to label your slides. In many staining procedures ethanol or acetone is also used. A waste jar to safely dispose of any chemicals, but be careful what you mix. A rack for staining and containers. I would recommend nitrile gloves, some people are sensitive to latex.

The dyes you use depend on the specimen. For example in histological slides of tissues hematoxylin and eosin are most commonly used (short HE-stain). That's what you most likely saw on your slides, it's blue, purple and pink. Hematoxylin is a basic compound extracted and oxidised from the logwood tree (Haematoxylum campechianum), and it stains acidic compounds in the cells (or basophilic because they have an affinity for basic substances). For example nucleic acids like DNA or RNA get stained by hematoxylin because they are basophillic. And where are lots of nucleic acids? In the nucleus and ribosomes, that is why they appear blue to purple in the staining because they bind hematoxylin. Eosin is an acidic compound, and stains basic or acidophilic compounds red or pinkish, like proteins, collagen, cytoplasm, extracellular matrix.

(Ductus epididymidis with HE-stain)

(Tongue HE-stain, pointer marking a ganglion; that is my picture)

Of course there are more specific stains for specific tissues like Golgi's silver staining for neurons.

For plants toluidine blue is often used, high affinity for acidic tissues, and can stain blue to green to purple. It is often combined with safranin, a basic azine, which is probably the red stain you saw. It stains polysaccharides and lignin, woody parts of the plant. Safranin and astrablue is also often combined, astrablue stains non-lignified parts of the plant.

(Ulex europaeus stem; not my pictures I don't have any samples currently, source Atlas of plant and animal histology)

Safranin is also used in bacteriology, in the famous Gram staining. In Gram staining you use crystal violet (blue/purple), Lugol's iodine solution, then wash it with ethanol and add safranin (red) as a counter stain. Bacteria is gram-positive if the crystal violet stays in their thick murein cell wall, can't be washed out with the ethanol and the bacteria stays blue. Gram-negative appear red because of the counterstain.

(Staphyloccocus aureus (violet, gram positive) & Escherichia coli (red, gram negative); not my picture, source Wikipedia)

However, I am not sure whether you have access to any of those substances, if they are too expensive for you or if they are too hazardous if used in your own room for a prolongued time. Of course those substances need to be stored properly, and your own room is probably not a good place, especially for ethanol or acetone. The fumes. I would recommend to ask your biology or chemistry teacher whether they can recommend anything further and where to buy said solutions in your area, and if they can't they are idiots. There are also many useful resources and tutorials on Youtube.

Another fascinating experiment for your microscope, that you can perform without buying any chemicals, is a hay infusion. You put hay into a container filled with water, and let it sit undisturbed for a week in a sunny area but not in direct harsh sunlight. During that time the microorganisms in the hay are reproducing in the solution, feeding on the polysaccharides of the hay. Protozoans also flourish in the hay infusion and eat the bacteria. It might get cloudy and a bit foul smelling (best not do it in your own room if you don't want to sleep next to a rotting smell). When you put a drop of the solution onto a slide and look at it in the microscope, you should see a variety of microorganisms like bacteria (like Bacillus subtilis), amoeba, ciliates, heliozoa, algae et cetera. At different depths of the liquid you should find different kinds of organisms, because of differing oxygen content. However, pathogens can also occur in the hay infusion so handle it carefully and work sterile, wash your hands properly.

And even if you don't work at a morgue you can still get tissue samples to experiment on, after all meat is sold in supermarkets, basically the same as a human body. And at the butchers they even sell organs like chicken hearts, pig kidney, liver, blood et cetera. Or observe your own hair under the microscope.

Which kind of samples and slides were included in your starter kit? Be careful to not leave them lying around in the sunlight, or the stain might fade. Always store them in the proper box.

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maxybabyy · 7 months

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It’s almost half past eight when the door opens and breaks Max’s focus.

Usually, people don’t come into this room. It’s too noisy, too hot when it isn’t completely freezing outside.

Lewis comes by occasionally, uses the nanodrop for his DNA samples. But his project is on the tail-end, and he’s too deep in the writing phase to even be on the lab cleaning rota. Max knows he was meant to stay, that Toto wanted to build a part of the group around him and his expertise. But funding runs out quickly; what was hot five years ago, may as well be old news today.

But it’s Daniel who pokes his head in, smile wide as he spots Max in the corner.

“There you are, Maxy.” He says, pushes the chair closer to Max before sitting down. “Alex said you’d left, but your stuff was still in the office, so.”

He doesn’t have a lab coat on, but always he doesn’t wear it. Max doesn’t know still if it’s an Australian thing, or because he is a pharmacist maybe, but also Oscar does it.

“But I have my gloves on today, Maxy.” Daniel said yesterday when Max had commented on it, trying not to stare at the lovely white tee shirt Daniel had been wearing. He wiggled his fingers as a tease, the bright pink gloves Seb had brought as a joke. He would have to at least be a large to escape the bright blue nitrile hell Max and the other mediums were saddled with. “Don’t get used to it though, just Oscar’s apparently shit at aliquoting piss I’ve learnt.”

“So what are we doing tonight, Max?” Daniel asks now. He is sitting on the chair the wrong way; elbows on the back of it with his chin in his hand. He couldn’t sit like that, Max thinks, at least not for very long. Not like Daniel can, like he does in their shared meetings when Christian and Zak remember they have a grant together.

“The university said the power would be out for a while tomorrow, so I of course have to shut down the MS,” Max says, huffs when he has to turn back to the computer.

The email had come Wednesday night, barely any information except for the notice of a power outage within eighty hours. Max had used the reply-all function to tell them to go suck an egg, turned off his phone and gone for a run.

Checo should of course be the one to do this, senior to Max in every way but one. But last time Sergio had been in charge of shutting down the systems, Max had come in the next day unable to complete calibration, and they had to replace two different parts.

It’s a new instrument too, and always he can be – the mass spectrometer can be a bit fussy when you have to shut it down. But Max has been working with mass spec since undergrad, was the second author on GP’s Nature Communications paper. Had come to Christian’s lab for this very instrument, so he of course knows it best.

“Always they say we are a part of a core facility, and still, they do this,” Max says. He’s already discussed it with GP and Jonathan how it isn’t okay, with the facility manager who hasn’t touched probably a mass spectrometer in his life.

Daniel also hasn’t worked with MS by himself before, but he would of course understand, would know it isn’t okay to do this.

“Was the Friday bar alright?” Max asks. He had gone too for a bit, shared the last dregs of gin with Charles, pouring the tonic directly into the bottle to get the most of it. “George said he made a quiz, but to me it sounded very boring. There was a part, I think, where you had to spell out chemicals’ names.”

Daniel laughs, and it sounds so loud in their tiny room for two. Daniel has of course always had a very lovely laugh, but it sounds even better like this. The two of them only. Max likes it like that the best.

“Yeah ah, George kinda went to town on the goon sack instead,” he says. “I reckon Alex had to carry him home.”

“George drank the wine?” Max asks. “No! But that is so old, it’s been in the fridge since Liam graduated.”

“He went for the sangria too, it wasn’t even good fresh.”

“Always George should not be in charge of this, of drinking and parties,” Max says, remembers the nightmare his grad party had been. “You are of course very good at it, how to make it a good night.”

“You think so?” Daniel says, soft, hesitant. Max looks up from the instrument with a frown, touches Daniel’s hand where it’s been hovering in the air, like he didn’t know if he could touch him. Always he can. Max should tell him this, maybe.

“Yes, Daniel.”

“Then, would you go somewhere with me tonight?” He asks, closes his hand around Max’s. It’s different to work like this, one-handed and typing slow. But Max doesn’t want to pull away, keeps his hand in the warmth of Daniel’s.

“I think I am too tired for the club, Daniel.” Max says softly. He has gone before, after the Friday bar. But he cannot do it tonight, his body is too tired. He doesn’t think he would survive if he did, considers already if he should take the bus home and leave his bike behind.

But to his surprise, Daniel laughs, squeezes their hands together. “Nah, I was thinking we could maybe go get some food? You said you’ve been craving like, tacos, and I’ve found a place down by one of the bridges that I thought we could try. If you wanna, of course.”

Daniel has only been in the city for five months, but already he has made friends in high places, in the low ones too.

“I would love to, but always I don’t know how -“

“Hey, we’ll just leave whenever you’re done, no rush, Maxy.” Daniel says.

Max nods, “Then it of course sounds very lovely. It will not be that much longer, I think.”

“I’ll be here,” Daniel says softly.

He pulls his hand from Max’s, the loss of touch, of warmth is sudden, but Max knew it would happen. But Daniel doesn’t leave.

He doesn’t go back to the office to work on the paper Max knows has to be sent back with major revisions, doesn’t go over the postdoc application Zak isn’t supposed to know about. He pulls out his phone instead, plays one of those indie rock albums that Max has come to like.

It’s very nice, Max thinks, his own earphones still dead in his ears.

The MS does finally shut down, leaves the room almost quiet except for the music.

They’re in the basement to get their bikes, Daniel will go in front because he knows where they’re going. He wears a helmet now too, one of those fancy Hövding airbags that will inflate if he crashes.

“So I won’t mess up my hair, baby,” he had said, the collar loose around his neck when he came into the office to show it off. Max doesn’t care, thinks he looked cute in Max’s borrowed helmet, but this is good also.

“Hey Maxy,” Daniel says now, one leg swung over the bike. “Would it be cool with you if this was a date instead?”

Max almost stumbles over the pedals, but he doesn’t, corrects himself so he’s upright and staring at Daniel, who watches him back almost shyly.

“It would of course be very lovely, I think, if this was a date,” he says, faint.

Daniel's lips stretch into a wide grin, and Max cannot help but return it.

“Cool, let’s do that then.”

#maxiel #max/daniel #maxiel fic #my fic #my writing #fic

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