#i don't even care about the surgery itself

[kindaeccentric]

feeling the halloween spirit by having a panic attack from thinking about my laparoscopic surgery next month 👌

#it's abdominal. so you can guess the collection of humiliating disgusting things that will happen to me : ) #I'm a nonbinary top. and people will just be sticking things in me in multiple different ways and calling me 'miss'. for f*cks sake 🙄 #i don't even care about the surgery itself #. the thought of prep and post-op makes my skin crawl #oh well. another one to my bag of traumas probably...

[ghostlythunderbird]

The Pack ~ The Letter

Pairings: Alpha!Konig, Alpha!Simon “Ghost” Riley, Alpha!Keegan P. Russ X Omega!Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ Minors/Ageless Blogs DNI, Omegaverse, Mentions of Anxiety/Panic attack, Ghost and Keegan are kinda mean for this one (Im sorry!), Konig being a big softie for Reader, Mostly Fluff for this one!

Words: 4,437 (Went a little too wild with this one!)

Author’s Notes: Please do not repost, edit, or translate my work. This blog and all content will be marked 18+ even if there is no NSFW content, if you are underage or have no age I don't want to deal with you. So sorry for the long time to update, I'm currently recouping after my hand surgery so ill try and update when I can, it sucks trying to write with one hand XD.

Summary: After being introduced to your new pack, you are taken to your new home or 'Den' at this point. While the introduction part went almost seamlessly, your starting to figure out that these alphas might be a little hard to get along with.

The drive home was nothing less than silent; aside from König sitting in the back seat with you, the two other alphas were quiet. 'Maybe they are the strong silent type.' You had told yourself. While you wanted to ask anything about themselves, you had a strong feeling that you would be told to be quiet by these alphas.

Close to an hour later, the car had come to pull into a short driveway. Looking out the window, the house itself was decent from the outside. A standard brick suburban house, copied and pasted much like many others on both sides of the street. The red bricks and white paneling nearly blinded you as you stared at it. Before you could ponder more on the look of your new 'home' the door on your side opened, The Alpha known as Ghost stood there "Come on, out ya get."

Sliding out of the vehicle you were snatched up by König who gently guided you up the steps to the front door. "Don't worry about your stuff right now, Schatz. We will get it later." Without another word, the front door was finally opened.

Your new home was lackluster; if you googled a Bachelor pad, this would be the definition of one. While there was furniture, it didn't feel as homey as you had expected. The living room was bare other than the oversized L-shaped couch and T.V. stand it faced. Hell, these guys didn't even have a fucking coffee table, of all things. As you further overlooked the room, you noticed the bare white walls. No different colored paint, picture frames, or calendar was hung up.

Just an empty minimalistic house. Perfect for three military bachelors.

As you stepped through the front door, you nearly lost your breath after the mix of alphas scents. The overall musk almost sent you to your knees, through the overbearing scent hints of Cinnamon, Vanilla, Mint, Smoke, and Leather blended in almost perfectly.

 Minutes passed as you regained yourself before you looked back towards the door to find König waiting for you to continue. "Are you okay, Schatz?" His voice was soft as he began to approach you. While you knew his second gender and the horror stories your family had told you growing up, none seemed to fit his character. His sheer size alone would make anyone panic if he approached, but with him nervously clutching his hands to soothe his anxiety. It made him appear much less intimidating and rough around the edges, reminding you more of a large shelter dog being welcomed into a new house for the first time. He wanted you to accept his home, his den, as somewhere you would feel comfortable and safe. 

From Konig's point of view, None of this seemed real to him.

In two weeks, König went from a pack-less and omega-less Apex to not just having his own pack but an omega that he could protect and care for. Everything was a mirage that could disappear should he touch it. But seeing you here before him, nothing less of a goddess, made it much more believable. "If you two are going to have an emotional moment, at least move out of the fucking doorway so people can get into the damn house." Ghost growled out as he passed both of you. Keegan followed close behind, but unlike Ghost, he gave you a blank stare as he passed. 

Looking down towards you, König felt his anxiety rear its head. Your face had fallen and a sour tone began to line your once relaxing scent. as you watched the two alphas walk away from the door.

As wordlessly they came in, they disappeared up the stairs to their shared room. This brought König to sigh heavily as he looked down at you again. "Don't worry, Schatz. They will warm up to you……eventually" He wasn't sure if he was telling you this or trying to reassure himself at the pair's attitude that one eighty once they were back in their den.

He didn't want you to feel they despised your existence as soon as you entered their lives. "Why don't we get you settled? I'm sure you're ready to rest." With the Apex mentioning this, your eyes lit up, and you couldn't help but smile at him. "Definitely; it seems like we all need a fat nap."

Both you and König laughed before he led you up the stairs. Reaching the next floor, he showed you where the single bathroom was and his, Ghost, and Keegan's bedrooms, just in case. At the end of the hallway was the final room. "This was Ghost's room originally, but once we were accepted, we all decided to leave one room open for you. So that you have your own space away from us." Upon opening the room, you were presented with one of the most enormous beds you'd ever seen. Resting on top were bags on bags of not just new nesting material. This ranged from thick fluffy comforters to sleek silk sheets; however, they lacked color.

It was a swirl of black and white with an underlying mix of grey.

It rendered you motionless as you took in the sheer amount, had these alphas gone out and bought you a whole nest and a half of material? You had never heard of alphas going to these lengths to make an omega comfortable. As you looked toward the Apex in the doorway, the anxiety in his posture was evident.

His hands were drawn up to his chest, clutching pieces of his shirt into his hands. He was even slouched forward to lower his overall height to match yours, even with it being impossible without him going to his knees.

"Well, I uh.....I'll leave you to get settled. Just call for us if you need anything." Without another word, the Apex left, closing the door behind him.

With that, you turned back to look at the covered bed before finally moving to clear off the excessive amount of nesting material lumped together. What you thought was an easy 15-minute job turned into 45 simply because your omega was getting too far distracted by the number of gifts she was given.

'Soft and Secure. Alphas are perfect, bringing nice gifts for a nest. The perfect nest for Alpha's pups.' She yipped. You were startled back to reality, god you haven't even known these alphas for a whole day, and suddenly, your omega is presenting herself, begging to be bred by these practical strangers. 'Jesus, you need to focus' Shacking your head to rid your mind of the intrusive thoughts, you attempted to finish your task.

Why would your omega be so enamored even after how the other two alphas seemed to want nothing to do with you?

Once all the material was put away for the time being, you had a yawn slip from your mouth. How long have you been up today? It was well over 14 hours at this point. Why not take a quick break. Deciding to rest, you had walked towards the sorted assortment of nesting materials before you settled on one of the larger and softer blankets. The void color overtook your view as you pulled it from its packaging.

'So soft,' You tiredly thought. After making it onto the bed and ensuring the blanket fully covers you, you finally lay down. Letting the bed hold the weight of your body.

It was quiet as you brought the blanket further up your chin. The only audible noise in the room was the sound of the ceiling fan. You hadn't realized how mentally exhausted you were from the entirety of not just today but the past few weeks. Each blink drew slower and slower until your vision went black, and your mind drifted to dreamless slumber.

~~~~~Flashback~~~~~

The sound of the T.V. did so little to drown out König's thoughts; König primarily spent the little time he had away from his rather dangerous occupation thinking about the 'What ifs' of his life. He was so caught in his thoughts he didn't realize Ghost had come back into the house, his hands full with mail. Most were bills, but one was large and thick compared to the rest.

Ghost placed all the envelopes on the counter before sorting them; the largest was addressed to König. From the Alpha Pack Selection Program. Something that the resident Apex had waited for close to 4 weeks for a response, one that hopefully bared good news. "König." His gruff voice echoed out.

Being pulled from his overreactive mind, the Apex leaned slightly to look at the other Alpha. The manilla folder being held transformed into a brightly lit target to the Austrian sprawled out on the couch.

The large man lunged off the couch, startling the smaller Alpha, who had just descended the stairs. "Jesus, König, a bit of a fucking warning." Keegan couldn't help but snarl after nearly getting run over by the Apex. It was rare for these sorts of incidents to happen in the house; the two alphas and the Apex were incredibly aware of where each was and their schedules. 

König was zeroed entirely in on the envelope in Ghost's hand, while he may have been eager to receive this letter. He couldn't help but fear their answer; after their last response, it would make seven rejections from the program. Each time was for the same reason "Due to your Apex representation, we regretfully have to decline your enrollment to our program." But it still didn't stop him from taking it and tore the envelope open. "well, come on mate, what does it say?" Ghost nudged his arm; the Apex hadn't realized that Ghost had even rounded the corner to stand beside him.

König took in a deep breath before releasing as he unfolded the papers to read the words printed onto the paper.

Dear Applicant,

It has come to our attention that you have sent multiple applications over the last few years. Each one followed with a swift rejection from our programs as your representation would cause an upset in both our application alphas who may be paired with you and in the omegas who could be assigned to your care.

While we appreciate the time and effort you have invested in becoming part of this program, we have concluded that we will no longer accept any future applications from you. However, with this harsh news, we will allow a new application with you, but you must have at least two other alphas willing to become paired with you in a pack. 

This envelope contains four applications for alphas willing to work and be assigned to a shared omega. These applications are only viable for 30 days; afterward, we will no longer accept any attempts to pair you. As well as, all previous information you provided will be deleted from our database.

~ The Alpha Pack Selection Program council 

The silence that surrounded the air of the Alphas was suffocating. Even with the tv playing in the background, it was drowned out by the tense atmosphere. König felt like he couldn't breathe; until a sob forced its way out, and air seemed to flood his lungs again. How was he supposed to find someone willing to pack with him? and within 30 days? No one wanted to be stuck with him, and he hardly knew any other Alphas outside his work. And those he did work with? Most were already packed or swore off mating altogether. 

This was it, his final chance to be accepted. With no potential pack-mates, he would lose his only chance of finding a mate and having pups. The world wanted him to live the rest of his life, never knowing the sweet touch of the omega for which he would lay down his life. To never know the feeling of pure happiness looking at a pup made from his omega and himself. A piece of him that he helped create.

Why? Why. Why. Why. WHY.

He hadn't realized that he was beginning to have a panic attack until Ghost dug his fingers into his shoulder. König could feel his body trembling, rolling off in waves, making his balance waver. "König, mate, you need to breathe," Ghost told him hushedly. Ghost and Keegan shared a look as the Apex slumped forward onto the counter, his head falling forward into his hands. 

Steadying his breathing, König straightened his back and pushed the papers away as they burned him. While his day may have been uneventful, he wished he had never opened the damn letter now. The crushing weight that bared on his shoulders now seemed to grow heavier as the seconds passed. Looking at the stack of papers, Ghost couldn't help but look at the pages that caused König to damn near crumble before them. 

The words spilled out before he made him sick. Why are they just now sending this? After all those years König spent trying to be accepted in this shitty program and getting rejected every time, they decide now to tell him what he needs to be accepted. Talk about hitting a man while he's down. Looking towards the dark-haired Alpha, leaning against the back of the couch, "Keegan, take a look at this fuckin' shit." While reading over the papers, the smaller Alpha couldn't believe the audacity of these fucking people. All this just because he was a slightly different second gender?

Casting a glance at the large Apex, who seemed to be on the verge of shutting down completely. While Keegan was a hardass, usually, he couldn't help but feel bad for his brother-in-arms. "So they are telling you to find a pack outside this program to be accepted? What a load of crap." His brain couldn't help but reel at the fact they were giving him only 30 days to figure this out; who could even help him now? He paused. Looking between Ghost and König, he knew what he was about to say would either be genius or he was about to be hit for. "What if Ghost and I pack with you?"

König and Ghost both wheeled around, both wearing surprised expressions. "The fuck are you on about? Did you hit your head on your last O.P.?" Ghost exclaimed as he stepped toward the smaller Alpha. "How are we the best options for a fuckin pack?" Keegan took a step backward as Ghost entered his space. 'Fuck, probably should have kept my mouth shut.'

Clearing his throat, "Think about it, Ghost, we're both unbonded alphas who know König the best; hell, we already live with him. And he needs a pack to be accepted. Why not throw us in and see where we go?" The air between them grew tense as the larger Alpha stared at him. "Right, and we're the best choices to take care of an omega; last I checked, neither of us have been around one." Ghost spoke through a tense jaw. As much as he was against being anywhere around an omega, he knew it was the best option between them.

König looked at them both. "A-are you guys sure? I know you guys aren't comfortable with this; I don't want you to force yourselves into this just because of me." The Apex was ecstatic to hear that they would try, but he knew he couldn't get his hopes up with this. There was still the possibility they would all be rejected. 

"If this gets you into that program, I will push for it as much as possible." Keegan calmly stated. The Apex looked towards Ghost, who still looked unsure, giving him a kicked puppy look.

The blonde Alpha signed before giving König a look. "Alright, we'll give it a go. But if they reject us, this Program business stops. Are we clear on that?" König nodded ecstatically while Keegan released a deep chuff. The emotions swept over the Apex so much he didn't realize he had dragged Ghost into a bear hug. "GET OFF ME, YOU FUCKIN MUPPET; Keegan, help me out ere'!"  

~~~~~~

After sending in the paperwork, they got their response two weeks later.

They were accepted.

König felt like he was about to pass out; everything was starting to work out. But it was only the beginning for the newly formed pack. Not only were they a pre-formed pack, but due to their extended military service, they were also notified that they could choose their omega. Hence the giant pile of files on the kitchen table.

It felt like they'd been at this for hours, passing the scent samples for each one to inhale. Each Alpha had the scent samples they liked, but when presented to the other two, it was met with a swift rejection and sometimes with a comment. While some omegas looked good on paper or had a decent scent, the Alphas couldn't agree.

"How about this one? She comes from a wealthy family in Italy, and it even says, 'She enjoys the finer things in life.'

"No, Keegan, It sounds like she'd be more of a glorified brat. Anyone born with a silver spoon in their mouth is nothing but trouble for people in our job."

Or it's a same-answer vote.

"Yeah fuck this one; smells like a Hospital."

"I'm going to have to agree with Ghost on this one. It reminds me of when my mom used so much cleaner in the house when I was a kid."

They thought this would be the easiest part, but they were definitely over their heads. Ghost finally stood up in a rage. "We've been sitting here for fuckin HOURS, and not a single one we have agreed on. Most of them smell like shite too." The Alpha raised his hands and walked to the fridge to grab another beer. KKönig stood as well at the other Alpha's tone. "No one said the selection was easy, and there's only a few left. Let's get through them, and then we can take a break." The Apex pleaded.

That only seemed to rile up the exasperated Alpha more "How the hell are we going to find an omega at this point? We can't agree on a single one?" Both alphas stared at each other "HOW DO YOU KNOW? WE ARENT EVEN DONE!"  

Keegan watched as both alphas continued to argue; their conversation slowly was tuned out as he watched while resting his head in one hand. As much as he wanted to pipe up to aid König in calming Ghost down, He knew better than to get between these two during times like this. Before Keegan could intervene, a quick breeze of something sweet passed his nose, and the Alpha couldn't help but follow it back to the remaining folders. This scent was the best one he'd had all day, so he couldn't help but be curious.

It led him to a file towards the bottom that seemed much newer but was thinner than the other files in the stack. Once he opened it, the sweet scent was no longer teasing him. Taking the scent sample from the file, Keegan couldn't stop himself from pressing it to his nose and inhaling deeply.

It felt like he became weightless for those seconds; how had he not noticed this one earlier? It reminded him of the smell of fresh rainfall, a sweet yet calming scent. His Alpha couldn't help but be drawn to whoever the smell belonged to; without a second thought, Keegan pulled back from the cloth to look at the pages in the folder. Whoever's file this was about was the smallest one he had seen from the entire stack.

The picture attached gave him a view of the person that caught his Alpha’s attention.

You were stunning; His Alpha yipped in delight. ‘Yes, yes! Pretty mate! Must mate, Must protect!’

However, something felt wrong in the picture. Looking closer, the smile that graced your features didn't seem to reach your eyes. Your eyes held sadness and hidden anger that could reveal itself should you choose to snap. As his eyes flickered across the pages, Keegan stored everything he could about you away.

Omega Profile

Name: (Y/N) (L/N)

Age: 23

Sex: Female

Second Gender: Omega

Personality: N/A. Omega and Family declined to file the Omega Attribute survey.

The sickening sound of glass crack made Keegan snap his head upwards; the sight before him was far from good. Ghost and König stood only a few feet apart; the Apex and Alpha had their teeth bared and chests puffed up. Ghost was making his displeasure clear to the Apex while König was getting close to putting him back in his place among the three. It wasn't often it happened due to each other's work schedule, but when it did, someone was going to have their ego bruised, and some furniture might end up being broken.

“I highly recommend to watch what you say next, Simon.” The Apex spoke. His voice had dropped an octave; His Apex was close to taking over to deal with the Alpha. Ghost was silent before scoffing, moving to clean up his broken glass of bourbon. Keegan took this as his chance to break the tense air. “If you two are done with your pissing contest, I think I got one.” He slowly held up the small cloth between his index and middle fingers. As much as Keegan wanted to hoard the small cloth to himself, he needed to let at least his newfound packmates have a chance to decide if the omega was a good fit.

König was the only one who returned to the table to remove the cloth from Keegan’s hand. Lifting it towards his nose, he caught the scent almost immediately. It had him completely forgetting his altercation just minutes prior. “wow….I like this one; her scent is not overpowering and smells good. Simon, wanna try this one?” The Apex had turned back to the Alpha, who was leaning on the counter nursing a new glass of bourbon. The look in his eyes made Konig nervous; the Blonde Alpha was definitely over the whole experience, but seeing how both Keegan and König agreed on the scent patch, it seemed to be at least a contender.

Sighing, He set his drink on the counter before returning to the table. König slowly held the cloth towards him, but before he took it, he looked towards the two Alphas. “If this one smells like shite, I'm punching both of you.” Simon grumbled before snatching the small fabric. He stared at the cloth before finally giving in; as soon as the scent filled his nose, it was as if all the tension in his body had just melted away.

The other Alphas held their breath as they waited to see what the blonde alpha had to say. Simon looked at the pair as he set the cloth on the table near the open file. “Well, she doesn't smell bad. What's in her file?”

Keegan and König shared a look before handing Simon the file; It seemed they finally agreed on their potential omega.

~~~~~

The days counting down to them finally meeting you and bringing you home were absolutely hectic, to say the least. So many emotions filled the small townhouse as all three alphas cleaned and organized the house as best as they could, no omega should have a dirty home when they come home in the alpha's mind. Most were bouts of Anxiousness and Frustration, a vast majority were from the poor Apex who checked everything twice to make sure everything was perfect.

At the one-week mark Ghost and Keegan decided to move into the same room to make sure you have a space for yourself as you settled down. The move sparked from just the simple question "Where is our omega going to stay until she's warmed up to us?" To say it had the alphas taking multiple steps back was an understatement. Another thing that was brought up (By Ghost mind you) was what were you going to use should you decide to make a nest.

It may have not been something the Alphas were well versed in, but they at least made an effort. Cue the three alphas going out and buying almost two whole carts full of nesting material, plus the whole material selection boot camp.

"What about this one? It's big and it's super soft!" ~ König

"No no, She needs something that won't stick to her if she uses this for her heats. What about that silk sheet kinda stuff?" ~ Keegan

"Why not just get her some fucking blankets and pillows, This nesting shit can't be that complicated" ~ Ghost

It was definitely quite the scene watching these big alphas carry multiple bags worth of nesting material due to them being unsure what to get.

Once everything was settled, the day when they finally got to meet you arrived. The checking-in process was seamless, soon leading to the alphas being led to a smaller room waiting for the actual introduction. From what the receptionist had told them the Omegas family still needed to finalize paperwork, It had been the longest wait any of the alphas had ever done. But when the door finally opened to reveal the betas and you, time seemed to stand still.

They collectively decided they would die for you if it made you happy.

~~~~~

It had been a few hours since König had left your room. Call him paranoid, but no noise was coming from the door. Worried about you, he walked back to your door before knocking.

"(Y/N)? Is everything okay?" Hearing no response, he slowly opened the door and was greeted by a dimly lit room. And there on the bed, you laid completely still on the massive bed, sound asleep.

Once you walked in through that door, all his fears and worries seemed to implode and no longer existed. You were more than everything he could have dreamed of; how you weren't already paired was beyond him. You entangled him. Everything about you was beautiful, from your hair and eyes to your body. It wasn't until he had heard his name from downstairs that he was brought out of his trance.

He was casting you one last glance, taking in your sleeping form before turning to leave. König told himself he would make this work. Because now that he had you, He wasn't ever going to let you go.

Tag List: @silentmel, @thisperspective, @thebestgirlever2, @ghostalina, @pascallllllll1, @jujitsuito2069, @hypernovaxx, @frazie99, @v1naco, @littlezarp, @thatoneautor0123, @credince--writes, @4ndjelij4, @alonelyteenagebroncinbuck, @alonelyteenagebroncinbuck, @random0lover, @wintersnnowie, @operatorinvestigatesco, @marytvirgin, @nightriver99, @l-lend, @kelpiesummer, @quietlyignoringyou

#simon riley x reader #keegan russ x reader #konig x reader #cod ghost #konig cod #cod keegan #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #konig x you #konig #konig mw2 #keegan russ #keegan p russ #omega reader #omegaverse #female reader

[midnightlizard]

hey, could you please do a Amelia Shepherd x fem!reader where the reader is jealous because of Edwards and Amelia reassures her that she only loves her etc...? (they've been together for about 3years)

Jealousy

Amelia Shepherd x gn!reader

Summary: when someone constantly tries to get at your girlfriend it can be irritating, very irritating, but thankfully Amelia doesn't care about anyone else.

Warnings: sexual talk at the end but nothing happens

A/N: I combined this with another request, ("Amelia Shepherd x reader where an intern keeps looking at Amelia in a OR and reader gets mad")

also because I don't write fem reader I changed it to gn reader

Word count: 1247

-

-

It happened again.

You and Amelia had another surgery together.

Which is great, you loved working with your girlfiend. You two operated on different parts of the human body so whenever the rare opportunity of working together presented itself, you always took it. This man had a puncured lung so you had to act quickly and asked the neurosurgeon to make sure the brain never stopped receiving oxygen.

What you didn't particularly like was working with someone else.

Amelia chose Edwards to work on this man with her, because of course she did. Your girlfriend was an excellent surgeon so you trusted her judgment and never tried to change her mind about her residents.

You just wish she did about this one resident.

Edwards wasn't bad at her job per se, but it just bugged you how her attention was half on your girlfriend and only half on the things she was supposed to be learning. It was highly unprofessional.

"right answer Edwards" Amelia chirped from behind her mask after the woman correctly answered her question.

"thank you, doctor Shepherd" you rolled your eyes at that, you were surprised at how she even got it right, since she never stopped looking at her face.

Your feet were starting to ache for how long you've been standing but thankfully the surgery was almost over. "Edwards how's his blood pressure?" of course, she didn't hear you. So you repeated the question.

"uh" she hesitated for a second, probably because the vitals weren't written in Amelia's eyes "110 over 70" she turned her head to look at you, as if she was expecting a scolding "it's good" she added.

"yea I know that, I'm a surgeon" you bit back, your eyes never leaving your patient's lungs. Amelia gave you a look from her spot behind the man's head, but said nothing.

After a minute of silence you breathed out a sigh of relief as you could finally take your hands out of his chest.

"forceps and gauze" you weren't talking to Edwards this time, since it wasn't her job to hand you what you needed, but when your free hand still felt empty after a second and you were about to yell at the intern, he frantically shook his head and pointed at the assistant, who held the tools in her hand, while talking to your girlfriend.

"Edwards!"

You raised your voice to the point even Amelia furrowed her eyebrows at the shift in your behaviour. It wasn't loud enough to be called unprofessional, you have seen much worse under Bailey's guidance. But you were never one to scream without a valid reason, especially in an OR.

The woman instantly whipped her head to look at you with widened eyes, while her shoulders visibly tensed.

"I don't know if you have noticed since you've been staring at Dr. Shepherd all this time" you vaguely pointed at her, your other hand never leaving the chest tube, keeping it in place between your patient's lungs "but we are actually in the middle of an operation. So I'd really appreciate it if you gave me my tools so I can close him up and go tell his family he survived."

You clenched your jaw when silence fell into the room right after your words, only now realizing the tone of your voice. But you didn't regret it, not really.

Especially when your hand was still hanging empty in the air.

Truth was, Edwards didn't hear you the first time and was afraid to give you the wrong tools.

"forceps and gauze." you repeated, your voice lower but still firm "now."

"right yea, sorry"

- - - -

Once his wound was properly sealed and Amelia assured you his brain was completely fine, you instructed your interns to take him to his room and keep an eye on him, and quickly stormed off.

Stephanie took her mask off and approached her mentor with the intention of apologizing for her behavior, but Amelia stopped her, and went looking for you.

She found you in the waiting room, talking to the man's family. "no need to thank me, I just did my job" she could only see the back of your head but she knew you enough to recognise the smile in your voice. "your husband is strong and he's going to have a quick recovery"

Your girlfriend stopped behind you without interrupting your conversation, and kindly smiled at the family as they walked away.

"okay what was that?" she searched for your eyes once they were out of earshot.

"what?" you run a hand through your hair, finally free from the surgical cap "people hug us all the time" and it wasn't a lie, but you knew it wasn't what she was referring to.

"no, not that" she shook her head and crossed her arms.

You opened your mouth while your eyes moved around the room, but the only thing that came out of it was a sigh.

You sat down on one of the chairs, looking up at her "I don't, I don't like Edwards"

"she's good at her job" Amelia didn't waste time defending her resident, but her tone wasn't aggressive.

"I know that, I know she is" you took a big breath, trying to find the right words. This whole thing has been bugging you for months now and you never said anything because you didn't want to sound controlling or irritating. But you couldn't hide it anymore.

"I don't like how close she is to you."

Amelia uncrossed her arms and slid her hands inside her pockets. She had a feeling of where this was going.

"She's fascinated by your work and by your mind and I get it, I love it too. And I get that she wants to learn so she assists your surgeries but she follows you everywhere."

Somewhere along your words, Amelia took a step closer and was now standing between your legs, looking down at you.

"Every time I want to talk to you she's always there, we can't even have lunch together without her sitting with us and asking you questions."

One of her hands came up to rest on your cheek to make you look at her "you're jealous of Edwards?" and despite the amused tone, her smile seemed gentle.

"You don't have to be, (Y/N)" she continued after a small silence "she's interested in my work and yes, she asks a lot of questions. But it's just that"

She saw you shake your head and took both of your hands in hers "and even if it wasn't, I don't care. I'm your girlfriend, not hers. You're my partner, she's not. I'm sorry if it made you jealous, but there's really no reason to worry. I love you, just you, okay?"

You softly nodded your head, and your smile quickly mirrored her own when she squeezed your hands "okay. thank you"

"of course" she muttered. Then she pulled on your hands, pulling you up "come on, I think we need to get our heads off of it and I know just the place"

You chuckled at her words and raised your eyebrows "you want to have sex in an on-call room?"

Amelia's smile never left her lips, if anything, it only got bigger "yes, and please stop acting like it hasn't happened already" she shrugged her shoulders and started guiding you to the room "besides, I need to show you who I stare at all day"

Amelia Shepherd Masterlist - Grey's anatomy Masterlist

General Masterlist

#greys anatomy #greys anatomy x reader #amelia shepherd x reader #amelia shepherd

[esamastation]

Shizuroth, part twenty five

Previous parts: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four

Warning for some implied medical horror in this one.

-

"... Welp. Now, I don't like saying I told you so - but I totally told you so," Reno points out, pointing at the screen - frozen on the very final frame just before Sephiroth destroyed the cameras. "I absolutely told Tseng this would happen."

"No one was injured," Rude points out, shifting through papers.

"That we know of! SOLDIER closed ranks real quick," Reno hums, shuffling through security feeds. They captured the flight of the technicians and the Department Head of Shinra Science from the scene of the ongoing incident, but after that, it's hard to say. There's a bunch of SOLDIERs literally in the way, blocking the view to the virtual training room with their bodies. They'd allowed no one but other SOLDIERs into the floor since.

Sephiroth is still there, as are the SOLDIERs, and unbeknownst to everyone else in the building, they have a damn situation on their hands. A potential rebellion situation.

"So," Reno says, rocking back and forth in his chair. "Sephiroth gets over-overdosed, flatlines, is brought back, loses his memory. Shinra Medical lets him go because that's what they do. He acts funny. Actually takes time off. Makes buncha random purchases. Puts on a shirt. Seems, for about a day, like a normal human being. He even gets takeout!"

"Mn," Rude agrees.

"The Crimson Commander takes him out, they do some shopping, probably have a heart to heart, make it into a few gossip columns," Reno continues, picking up the latest copy of Midgar Mail - Sephiroth sitting shotgun in Genesis' convertible and looking irritated had made the front page. "... Who are now absolutely convinced that our two Elites are romantically involved."

"A natural conclusion," Rude comments without looking at him.

"And so sad for poor Hewley, who's been in love with Rhapsodos since they were kids, according to this," Reno hums, giving the magazine a little flip. "The lives of SOLDIER First Classes are truly full of struggle."

"Mn."

Reno throws the magazine on the desk. "So, Sephiroth has a nice day, feels all normal, and the next morning he decides to go do some training, as SOLDIERs do," he continues, rewinding the video back. "He does some funky magic sword stuff for a bit, and then, boom, Professor Hojo launches a Behemoth at his ass. And Sephiroth proceeds to absolutely lose his shit."

Rude looks up. "I'd call that reasonable cause," he comments. "For a panic attack, if nothing else."

"Yeah, especially if the poor schmuck can't even remember what a Behemoth is," Reno scoffs and leans back, crossing his hands behind his head as he peers up at the ceiling vents. "So now we have a totally sane Department Head who was almost killed by his own son, two traumatised lab techs, a whole lot of SOLDIERs on high alert, an entire floor that's barricaded itself… and no eyes on Sephiroth and no idea what his status is."

"That about sums it up," Rude agrees and turns a page.

Reno glances at him, frowning. "You are not even listening, are you? What are you reading?"

"List of all the non-classified medical procedures Sephiroth has gone through," Rude answers. "The annotations by Professor Hojo are… interesting."

Reno blinks and then grabs the file from his hands. He takes a moment to skim through it before landing on what Rude has been reading. "Subject shows improved humour, will continue to administer preventive care - that doesn't seem too weird?"

"The two previous reports," Rude explains and Reno leafs back. "Reading between the lines, Sephiroth objected to an operation, and was assigned another immediately after," Rude adds. "I'm no physician, but I didn't see anaesthetic in the medicine list."

Reno frowns, reading the files more closely. "Exploratory surgery? Wait, wait, wait. What? Sephiroth showed a bit of an attitude and as punishment Hojo did open surgery on him without anaesthesia?"

"That's my reading of it also."

"Holy shit, that guy's life sucks," Reno says and then takes another look. "The poor fuck was seventeen?"

"There was a similar operation when he was nineteen," Rude adds. "For similar reasons."

"So it's a fucking pattern," Reno mutters. "Damn. No wonder they wrestled the SOLDIER program out of Hojo's total control as soon as they could."

Rude hums in agreement. "I thought it might shed light on what Professor Hojo's reaction to this might be."

Reno's face falls. "Fuck," he says emphatically. 

Now, he doesn't have much sympathy for SOLDIER, they willingly signed up to all the bullshit they went through - plus, when SOLDIER went off the beaten path it was Turks who had to clean their crap up. Sephiroth is a bit different, the poor asshole was born into the life, but that doesn't mean he has anything to do with Turks. At least not unless he made himself their business - and usually he didn't. And that was good! Live and let the freaks live, Reno was more than happy with that.

But this… yeah.

The idea of Sephiroth who had already lost it once being subjected to his crazy father's idea of discipline - probably while on company property, full of all these squishy and vulnerable company people! - did not appeal to him. Tseng was right - life at Shinra would be so much easier if the Science Department stopped treating the SOLDIER like their personal playthings and seen them for what they are.

Really fucking dangerous human weapons. With all the bullshit that came with it.

Rude looks at him levelly and then takes off his sunglasses in order to clean them - sure sign of how stressed he is. "How do you want to play this?"

"Preferably from another continent?" Reno asks a bit incredulously and then thinks about it. "Yeah, actually, that sounds about right! You have Deusericus' location?"

Rude checks his PHS. "Logs put him in his office," he says.

"Great, good, wonderful," Reno bounces to his feet, taking out his own PHS, hitting the speed dial. "Let's go. Hey, Tseng!"

"Reno," comes very tiredly through the hand held. "Please tell me you have eyes on Sephiroth."

"I have his rough location - still on floor 49, with just about every SOLDIER sitting between him and the elevator. No idea what's going on in there, but he's not moved from the training room yet. What about Hewley and Rhapsodos, what's their status?"

"Out on missions - Deusericus has recalled both of them."

"Excellent," Reno says, hurrying for the elevators. "What say we punt this whole mess speedily to Wutai before the good Professor decides to poke at the already sparkling bomb in our midst?"

Tseng sighs. "What?"

Reno explains their conclusions about what they should expect from Hojo. "And if today is any indication as to how the current Sephiroth reacts to Hojo's style of child rearing and discipline… well, I wouldn't like to see the Science Department afterwards! Or the building." Or the entirety of Midgar, for that matter.

He's seen Sephiroth's stats - there's not much they could throw in the guy's way to stop him.

"I see," Tseng says over the line, and it sounds like he's pinching the bridge of his nose. "Yes, I think it might be best if Sephiroth vacated the premises as soon as possible."

"My thinking exactly, boss."

"Very well. I'll arrange a transport," Tseng says. "You'll deal with getting him there?"

Cheers, boss, well done throwing him under the bus! But as it happens, yes. "Heading off to pay Director Deusericus a visit now," Reno says while Rude punches in the floor number. "Here's hoping the SOLDIERs are willing and able to wrangle Sephiroth into a plane."

"Here's hoping," Tseng agrees and then, damningly, adds, "Call me once you get to Wutai," and hangs up.

Aw, shit.

Reno looks at Rude. "Ever been to Wutai?"

"... No?"

"It's wet, miserable, and full of bugs."

Rude sighs. "I'll pack accordingly."

-

Yep, Sephiroth's existence has nothing at all to do with any Turk, nope.

#Fanfiction #ff7 #ffvii #svsss #reno of the turks #rude of the turks #tseng of the turks

[decolonize-the-left]

I just think you're weird for suggesting ai should be an alternative to anything when y'all can't even treat Humans correctly. Like did y'all forget?

The only reason ai exists is so they don't have to pay a fucking human for the same job.

"yeah but I'm embarrassed when I rp"

You should be! It's fucking embarrassing! So what???!

"I can't make art tho"

Then don't!!!

I'm 10000000% convinced that it's privilege that makes people believe that just because you Want something then you should be able to do it or have access to it even when you have No meaningful way of accessing it yourself.

Like when people get pets when they literally aren't even home enough to take care of it so they use those dystopian ass software to train their dogs when they aren't even home. You know the ones that even spit a treat out at them?

Like???? That dog deserves a real fucking person to take care of it and to Spend the Time training it. What the fuck is the point of having a dog if your TV is the one doing bonding activities with it?

It's just for you. The dog's needs are secondary to what you wanted because those needs were inconvenient for you.

AI is no different and the arguments y'all have for it are largely fucking gross.

"I'm too anxious to interact with real people and I'd inconvenience them or something so I'll just use this ai"

Cool so now we're opening up a gate to push care for disabled and mentally ill people off on AI? Cuz you know who Else is seen as too inconvenient to be worth someone else's time?

What the fuck?

And y'all are enabling that "well it's true they would be a bad rp partner."

ITS RP NOT SURGERY WTF ARE YOU EVEN SAYING RN???

Maybe learn some fucking patience? The fuck you mean you'd rather someone talked to fucking AI???

We as a society have FUCKED UP when people are suggesting and enabling AI should deal with people nobody else wants to.

Why doesn't anyone else want to?

Can AI tell you that? Can AI fix that??

The worst part is that AI should be cool. It should be an amazing fucking step forward and instead it's racist and half of y'all act like it's a crutch for having no fucking interpersonal relationships/skills and it's NOT.

I say this as someone who is in fact physically disabled and mentally ill as fuck, okay? I'm not super young either. Like I am, and will continue, to lose my ability to do things and never in a fucking million years will AI be a stand in for a Real Person's talent or skill or help.

Society can't handle taking 30 seconds to put on a mask before they walk out the door and you DONT want me to be upset about all the "helpful" things AI can do?

We wouldn't even need AI if people could afford to go to school or had time to learn to paint or could afford the supplies or had the healthcare to go to therapy or had more people In school to Be therapists or had access to a writing class or-

Hayao Miyazaki was fucking right and more people should be saying it.

“I would never wish to incorporate this technology into my work at all. I strongly feel that this is an insult to life itself.”

AI exists because capitalism's very nature is to exploit humans to our fullest extent. Now capitalism doesn't even fucking need humans to create products. We are the product they use to train our replacements.

And this is.....okay with y'all?

#is it me??? am i the crazy one??? like what the FUCK is going on??? #i am so unhinged about this. like theres a lot of stuff i care about but AI???? AI will be who i find in hell #ai #rant #vent

[weebsinstash]

I have some more ideas, observations, and thoughts to drop before Hazbin is officially here tomorrow!

-Vox's blue fingertips are sharp metal claws and they make audible clinking noises when he touches certain things with them. It makes me curious about the composition of his body but... nice detail

-oh so you're telling me Vox can enter security cameras and warp around and also teleport short distances like he's Tracer, ok, ok, he definitely is primo stalker material, you could literally have this man warp to your location if he really really wanted to find you

-seeing Vox handle Valentino and know how to calm him down (which was kinda sexy ngl) gives me big BIG "Vox would want to keep you for himself but if you ever run away or threaten to leave him he'll threaten to bring Val into the mix to intimidate you into obedience" vibes. You're halfway down the block from like escaping out a window and suddenly your phone turns itself on and you hear Vox say "Valentino is still asleep. If i dont see you don't turn around in 5 seconds I'm gonna wake him up and he's going to be REAL hungover while I tell him you left" and you do a u-turn on the sidewalk right then and there because, Vox might take away privileges and confine you, but Val is the one who's more likely to get physically violent or at the very least yell and scream at you

-ughhhh I just really like the idea of Reader actually getting to be like his platonic friend or secret crush and you're running around as like either his own PA or even his co-host and, you're just a positive influence in his life, he likes you, spending time with you, like you guys hang out outside of work, and eventually having you hang around so much catches Val's eye. He sees Vox talk casually to you and suddenly is overwhelmed with curiosity on who tf you are and is maybe a little jealous his man seems more than comfortable around you

honestly just platonic/genuinely cares for you yandere Vox who hides you away from Valentino when our favorite moth starts being a creep. You tell Vox ONE TIME that Val cracked a joke about you throwing neck for him when your boss left the room and Vox is sure never to leave you alone with Val ever again

-I just see like in some noncon poly scenario where you get passed between them like a blunt that there would still be hard lines Vox hopefullyyy wouldn't let Val cross? Like you start hysterically crying one day, "do YOU think I'm ugly Vox?!" "What the fuck are you talking about?" "Val wants me to have cosmetic surgery! He gave me a list of all the work he wants to have done!" and you hand him like a literal actual list in very familiar pink handwriting and here's Vox, forcing a smile, "hm! Gonna be right back!" and he leaves the room and like in 10 seconds flat you hear them roaring at each other from the other side of the house and Vox zooms back, "hey, great news! You aren't having surgery" and it's never brought up again

-also as an end note. Reader who winds up having the same body type as one of Velvet's models and she snags you from Vox or Valentino one day to have you try on something and you become her like. Her new favorite little pincushion she likes to try new ideas on. You're just minding your own business and she's barging into the room with sudden inspiration and she's, doing her little finger waggle and changing your clothes without your consent, potentially making you half naked or explicitly dressed in front of your male companions or anyone else around

I'm just definitely looking to watching the show and seeing more of everyone in full ^^

#yandere stuff #sinprompts

[gartenofbanny]

WARNING: DIRTY-ISH IMAGES IN THIS BLOG

Guys, I have a confession to make. I believe Sallie May is one of the most overrated characters in Helluva Boss.

I don’t believe she’s overrated simply because she’s trans. It’s just for a different reason that I will explain shortly, but first who is this character I'm talking about?

Who is Sallie May?

Sallie May is Millie’s sister who debuted in Hell of a Boss Episode Five, the Harvest Moon Festival. After some time after the release of the episode she was pretty popular among the Hell of a Boss fandom

So what're my thoughts about her overall? Well, Sallie May is a character, that's pretty much it. I don't have any opinions on her as a character because she isn’t fleshed out. She is Millie's sister who is transgender, that's really what Sallie May is. She looks pretty, but Sallie May doesn't have any standalone character similar to Octavia and Millie.

So that's how I feel about Sallie May, she's overall just a side character. It's cool that they added her to the show, but that's all.

Now that, that's out of the way I'm going to talk about..how Vivziepop and the other creators used her and why I don’t like it. This is going to be pretty controversial for me to discuss so don’t pull out your pitchforks yet.

How Vivziepop and the other creators used her

What I don't like upon Harvest Moon Festival’s release is that a lot of people, including me were not aware that Sallie May was transgender and there was very little indication of that. The only thing that points out that Sallie May is trans is her horns.

As people know, Male imps and Female imps have different patterns for their horns. However, that information is not shared within Helluva Boss.

It requires outside research like in the wikis, Livestreams, or people telling you in order to make sense.

Upon first watching Harvest Moon Festival, I had no idea that Sallie May was transgender until a Reddit post basically told me that she was.

If you're going to have a character with a certain gender identity, establish it within the series. It could've been something simple like a pin of the transgender flag or a button that has the colors of the transgender flag.

The writers of Amphibia did it with Sasha where Sasha had a bisexual heart sticker on her rearview mirror. It doesn't have to be something big, but it can be small and easily noticeable.

I don’t get how people consider Sallie May to be a trans icon when lots of people didn’t even know she was trans in the first place.

Why I believe she's overrated and why she's loved within the Fandom

Now the real question is why do I believe she’s overhyped? Well, simply put it she does not have much screen time overall. Sallie May has around 13 to at most 20 seconds of screentime and Harvest Moon Festival is 17 minutes and 30 seconds long excluding the credits.

Sallie May doesn't make an appearance later on in the episode despite the fact that Millie and Sallie's mom, Lin said that Sallie May would compete in the Pain Games. Not once is Sallie May shown in the Pain Games.

Sallie May also doesn't appear later on in the episode. Viv and Brandon just include her in those couple of seconds and decided "That's all she gets".

But why is Sallie May overrated as a character? Well, it's simple, merchandise.

Despite being a side character, Sallie May is present in a lot of merch. In the Valentine’s and Summer merch sales for Hell of a Boss, Sallie May is highly sexualized.

Sallie May hasn't gone through the transition surgery, which is fine, but the merch puts A LOT of emphasis on that.

What I mean is that…her bulge is showing.

Sallie May's swimsuit and Valentine’s merchandise are clear examples of this, they just let Sallie May’s thing bulge out with no care in the world. Why is it that Sallie May’s bulge is exposing itself in nearly all of her raunchy merch, but none of the characters who identify as males (except for Chaz) are not?

Conclusion

In conclusion, I believe Sallie May is really overhyped because she’s sexualized as hell. I get that people like her because she’s trans and that we have a trans character in Helluva Boss, but then again there are also two other characters in this show that are trans.

And one character in Harvest Moon Festival that is also trans

At least that’s what the horns and hair color imply, but I don’t see the fandom falling head over hills for these two characters.

The trans rep in Helluva Boss sucks, Sallie May has more screen time as merchandise than she does as an actual character. Let that sink in.

I am not transphobic, just stating the truth. Thank you all for reading and I hope you all have a nice day!

(This is basically the transcript version of a video I made not too long ago)

#helluva boss #vivziepop critical #helluva boss critical #helluva boss criticism #vivziepop criticism #vivziepop #helluva boss critique #helluva critical #vivienne medrano #helluva boss sallie may #sallie may #Youtube

[youkaiyume]

Hello, it's been a while since I did a rant. But WARNING for gross medical things:

SO it turns out my old nemesis the ovarian cysts have plagued me again. I found out about three weeks ago when a weird pain wouldn't leave my pelvis and went to urgent care and they suggested a CT scan. ONLY! for my insurance to deny me cuz they think I needed more probable cause for one so my doctor just recommended I go to the ER (which ironically is way more expensive for insurance to pay for than a simple CT scan but they did it to themselves lol).

Turns out I have cysts on BOTH of my ovaries FUN. But the left one is very concerningly big and probably needs to be removed but I can only do so by getting an approval of an OBGYN. So after finding one and waiting for my blood tests to come back so she can determine if she can surgically remove it--

YESTERDAY I had a SUDDEN AND SEVERE pain that hit me. I was at a solid 10 on that pain scale and vomiting and sweating so I drove myself to the ER again for the second time in two weeks. Frustratingly, the MALE doctor came back and was just like "well it looks like while we were doing your ultrasound you weren't consistently experiencing pain" which I was ready to bite his head off because let me tell you. While I was laying stretched out letting them do the ultrasound I was in the worst pain the ENTIRE time. And it was not a short ultrasound. It lasted over 20 mins and even after they asked me if I could survive sitting through the vaginal ultrasound after which would be another 25 mins. And those are painful just for the stick poking around in your yoohoo alone. I begged for pain relievers and when I described it they were like "oh that's labor level pains"

SO Mr. I don't have a Uterus doctor, DON'T TELL ME that your machine says I wasn't in pain. He even hit me with a "well I don't know what your pain tolerance is" as if to minimize or make me feel like I was overblowing what I was feeling. Like, fuck that guy. But because technically the imaging showed that the cysts haven't ruptured or caused my ovaries to twist it was considered "non emergent" and so the just gave me painkillers and then sent me home and reiterated that the only way I could get it removed at this point was to beg my OBGYN and convince her it was an emergency. In the meantime it was "oh you'll have to live with LABOR LIKE PAINS 24/7 until they let you have surgery." In the meantime they said I should only return to the ER after I've took all my pain meds and my pain doesn't improve OR if something worse happens. like a rupture.

WHICH btw are the exact same symptoms I have today so I was like how will I know cuz I can't imagine a worse pain than this one to which they were like "shrug"

I was in tears. Oh but it gets EVEN BETTER. Called my OBGYN this morning and she said my blood tests came back and that unfortunately they detected higher than usual levels of cancer markers in the cyst so that means she can't surgically remove them for me, she has to foist me to an Oncologist so THEY can remove it. She tries to say it doesn't necessarily MEAN cancer but hnnnnnggg that does not help with my anxiety at the moment.

Now calling the Oncologist to make an appointment today was a whole ordeal itself cuz their system kept going to voicemail so I had to call all the departments until they finally let me through but I had to run back to the hospital to try to get my Ultrasound discs for them. But even then they were like "your appointment isn't until next Wednesday" because THATS when the doctor meanders into work. So I'm like OH so like, in the meantime what if something happens??? And they're like well you gotta call back your OBGYN to see if you have other options. Which turns out she is also out. Until Tuesday. So I'm like. Guess I'll die then!

I don't even want kids!!! These ovaries have caused me nothing but trouble!!! Please rip them from my body!!

#And you know when you have nothing to do but curl up and google ovarian cancer #AND it tells you that the longest living patients on average live up to five years #it does make you spiral a bit #I feel like these entire two weeks the entire medical system won't believe me when I say it's an emergency #you sit here with this pain then #you do it #text post #rant #gross medical things

[patricia-von-arundel]

FOR ANYONE IN FLORIDA:

Governor Ronald McDonald McDipshit is trying to require public colleges to hand over info on transgender (or, I assume, otherwise gender-nonconforming) students.

Under both FERPA (Family Educational Rights and Privacy Act) and HIPAA (Health Insurance Portability and Accountability Act), this is illegal.

FERPA protects your college records if that college receives federal funding. Under FERPA, even your parents cannot request your grades, your classes, or your medical records in the hands of the college (among other things). Circumstances under which records can be shared without your authorization are limited:

"FERPA generally prohibits disclosure without consent, either internally or externally, of personally identifiable information from education records. But it permits (although it does not require) such disclosure without consent in certain situations. These include:

1. to other school officials, including teachers, within the institution who the college determines have legitimate educational interests;

2. to the parents of a student under age 21 concerning the student's violation of any federal, state, or local law or school policy or rule governing alcohol or drug use or possession; and

3. in connection with a health or safety emergency."

(https://www.cga.ct.gov/2005/rpt/2005-R-0195.htm)

HIPAA applies to all medical records, whether held by a college, a hospital, or a private doctor's office. Again, there are guidelines for exactly when your information can be shared without express, written permission from you:

"The Privacy Rule sets rules and limits on who can look at and receive your health information

To make sure that your health information is protected in a way that does not interfere with your health care, your information can be used and shared:

For your treatment and care coordination

To pay doctors and hospitals for your health care and to help run their businesses

With your family, relatives, friends, or others you identify who are involved with your health care or your health care bills, unless you object

To make sure doctors give good care and nursing homes are clean and safe

To protect the public's health, such as by reporting when the flu is in your area

To make required reports to the police, such as reporting gunshot wounds"

In other words, DeSantis cannot legally access your medical (or other college) records, either through the college itself, a hospital, or an individual.

Both FERPA and HIPAA are federal programs, so they apply no matter where you are in the US and how much DeSantis stomps his little feet and yells. FERPA protects your educational records; HIPAA protects your medical records (specifically, PHI, or Protected Health Information). DeSantis could ask to know how many people at the Mickey Mouse Medical Hospital have received prescriptions for hormones, had top or bottom surgery, etc., but he cannot demand access to your name, SSN, birthdate, specific treatment records, etc., unless you provide written authorization for him to do so. Along the same lines, he could demand the College of Rats in the Kitchen and Gators on the Stage tell him how many students total identify as transgender, nonbinary, genderfluid, gender non-conforming, etc. He could even ask for the average GPA of trans students compared to cis students (as a whole). But he cannot - again - ask for your personal records, or any of the information therein, without your express permission.

Don't panic, okay? I know the federal government isn't always trustworthy, but I've spent enough time dealing with both FERPA and HIPAA to know that they take this stuff very seriously. If you need to contact someone about a violation of either -

FERPA (college records) is under the US Department of Education, and you can find more info on reporting a potential violation here:

HIPAA (which covers all your medical info) is under the US Health and Human Services' Office of Civil Rights, and you can find more info on reporting a violation here:

At the moment, DeSantis is requesting only information not covered by either HIPAA or FERPA: "Republican Florida Gov. Ron DeSantis is asking state universities for the number and ages of their students who sought gender dysphoria treatment, including sex reassignment surgery and hormone prescriptions, according to a survey released Wednesday."

Source:

If you are concerned that your records either as a student or a patient may have been shared without your permission, either because of this or in any other circumstance, you have rights.

Hang in there.

[possibilistfanfiction]

argument pt 2?

[here's argument pt 1 (i guess lol); u don't need to read it for this to make sense fully but if u are so inclined & haven't read it yet it might be helpful context.]

//

you don't know what else you expected. upon a very quick reflection — once your brain reorients itself from beatrice is so hot — you realize you were foolish to think anything else, especially not without a discussion. but, still —

'what are you doing?'

it's clear what beatrice is doing, standing with jillian in one of her fancy labs. she's dressed in all black, a t-shirt delightfully tight on her biceps (focus, ava) tucked into loose pants reinforced at the knees, boots that are tougher than normal but lighter than those you would typically wear in combat — ones she prefers when fighting because it allows her quiet, stealth, full range of motion. 'trying on new armor,' she says, and if it was years ago, the spike of anger that starts in your gut and shoots up your spine — anger, and sheer panic — would have set the halo off.

jillian looks between the two of you — your fists clenched; beatrice's arms crossed over her chest — and says, 'well, i'll be looking over some specs in... another room,' and excuses herself.

wisely.

it hits you, all at once, when you look at beatrice — your fiance, your life partner — that, right now, maybe more than ever, she looks like a soldier. it's not been lost on you over the years, not with her nightmares and the quiet, chronic pain she bears with little more than a tender wince some mornings, the way she loses herself after loud noises or too many people in a crowd, her usually steady hands trembling — it's not been lost on your that beatrice has been fighting for a long time.

'you can't seriously be telling me you're not going to stop.'

'i'm fine, ava. i was cleared by my surgeon and my physical therapist to return to all normal activities.'

you're so used to gentleness, now, even with demons to fight on occasion and the lingering affects of a holy war too great to fully comprehend. you're used to beatrice's loose cotton crewnecks you like to steal; the rust-colored linen pants she loves, light in the breeze off the water. you're used to her whining for posterity about couples halloween costumes, her afternoon naps with her kitten purring on her chest softly. you're used to dates she plans meticulously that you don't even try to mess up because she's so intentional with how she loves you, full of thought and care. you're used to your big house on the beach and her laugh in the afternoon, the freckles on her shoulders, her hand in yours.

'i don't understand.' you release your fists with the progressive muscle relaxation you've worked on in therapy, then take a deep breath. 'you — you want to keep fighting?'

you're the one who changed her dressings after surgery, who took her to months and months of painful and slow-going, steady physical therapy. you're the one who washed her short hair with the gentlest hands you could, even that hurting the bone bruise along the back of her skull. you're the one who filled the prescriptions for her pain meds, who held her hand when she woke up. you're the one who loves her the most. you're the one who thought she was going to die.

'i —' she seems at a loss, for a moment, and then, 'it's my duty.'

'your duty?' it comes out shrill; so much for your muscle relaxation. 'beatrice.'

she clenches her jaw.

'you're telling me that you're, what, just fine getting fitted for new armor because your last vest got punctured by shrapnel and almost killed you?'

'ava.' it's a warning, and a tired one — exhausted from over a decade. 'you're still fighting.'

'i don't have a choice.' you hate yelling but you're overwhelmed by the idea of having to go through what you did again and again. 'don't you want — don't you want to choose?'

she swallows and leans back against the counter. 'if i —' she shakes her head.

'bea.'

'i — i can't.'

'i want to live,' you tell her, an echo of one of the first things you knew years and years ago, and her lower lip trembles. 'for so long i have wanted to live so badly, bea.'

'i know.' her voice is laced with unshed tears.

'i — do you want to?'

she sniffles and tilts her head back to look at the ceiling; it's a sure tell she's trying to compose herself but you can see her shaking, holding it in. 'i never thought i would.'

you step toward her, wait until she offers her hand. you lace your fingers together and wait. 'did you want to?'

'i didn't think — i didn't think i deserved to. i didn't think that me living a good life would be nearly as valuable as, well —'

'dying young in a blaze of glory for god?'

it takes her a moment, because it's the hardest thing in the world to hold, this grief, but then she laughs a watery little sound. 'something like that.'

'okay, but — do you want to now?'

it hangs heavy in the air. you know that she goes to therapy faithfully and you've seen her cry multiple times watching the sunset; she touches you like a benediction. but the answer is impossible to come by, sometimes — worthiness, and belief. 'who am i, ava, if not... this?'

you remember a book you'd read a few months ago, one of mary's favorites, that had made you cry often — where does it all lead? what will become of us? these were our young questions, and young answers were revealed. it leads to each other. we become ourselves. it's easy, to kiss the faithful gold band on her ring finger and then take her in your arms, put a protective hand to the back of her head. 'you're a fucking miracle,' you pray into her skin. 'you're the love of my life. you're a genius, and a black belt, and someone who avidly watches reality tv and tennis, only one of which is worthy of that kind of devotion.' you feel her laugh, snotty, into your shoulder. 'you're so pretty, and so handsome, and really funny when you want to be and sometimes even when you don't. you're remarkably forgiving; an incredible friend, a wonderful sister. you're someone who surfs because the ocean is beautiful and you want to see the sunrise. you're a very hot lesbian, and you're my fiance, and you're going to be my wife. you're my life partner. you give the world so much more than it has ever, ever deserved.' you both back up, just so you can look into her eyes. you hold her face in your hands, as gently as you can, run your thumb along a cheekbone, the constellation of freckles there that have bloomed in the sun by the sea. 'you will always serve the world, i know that about you. you're a child of god,' you say. 'you're beatrice.'

it doesn't surprise you when she kisses you gently and then tucks her face into your neck and lets out a full body sob. you rub her back through it, hold her up when her legs grow weak. eventually, as she always does, she calms and composes herself, steps back and dries her tears, runs a hand along her hair. her eyes are red but she takes a deep, steadying breath.

'thank you.'

you kiss her cheek. 'you're also my favorite.'

'now that i do know.'

you grin. 'don't get me wrong, like, fuck the military industrial complex obviously, but this is kind of a look.'

she rolls her eyes but her shoulders settle and then she looks at you seriously. 'i want to live a long life.'

'yeah?'

'so badly.'

'it's a little scary, right?'

she lets out a shaky, honest breath. 'yeah.'

'well, we'll figure it out.' you kiss her, the first of a kind stretching out ahead of you, infinite. 'i have an idea?'

she sighs, and you can't help but laugh.

(you watch her slice a plum on the shore of the lake in the alps you used to train at all those years ago, the lake you knelt down in front of her and she agreed to be your wife. the fruit is juicy and a color you can't quite bring yourself to comprehend: blood, your favorite sangria at the beach, natal dahlias. the house you stay at now — a few quiet days before you head home — is small and gorgeous, with a giant bed and a wall of windows that overlook the mountains. i love you here, you tell her — i love you like this; i love you however you are meant to be — i love you in peacetime, and you watch her slice a plum, the juice red and sticky on her fingers. she puts it to your mouth gently and the taste explodes like a kiss. she smiles and you feed her too; she sucks your finger into her mouth and you close your eyes — there will be time enough to touch her later. the water is calm, and the flowers are in bloom, and the sun shines bright.)

#wn #wn fic #avatrice #avatrice fic #butch bea 🥺🫡 #jillian getting tf out of there lmfao #mostly brought to you by the overwhelming RED of the plums that have been in season in socal lately #& the accidental sincere ending to the lilith pov prompt fill lmao 'i want to live a long life' #whew! wild!

[touristclass]

If you are trans. Or think you are, or are unsure. Were born a male but there is a female presence inside. Please, don't turn your back on that. Because doing so is going to hurt you in the end. And that hurt can be really, awfully bad.

You might get by for years. Ignoring it. Trying to ignore her. Masking it all by using distractions. Taking detours. Not facing it. And losing yourself in the process. I did that. So I know.

And in all those years of avoidance, I never ever dreamed of the happiness and the fulfillment I now experience. As a woman. Because I finally learned to accept myself and be completely out and open about it all. Sure there are risks. Life itself is a risk. And I've suffered, too. A lot. But it is worth it all. To simply be yourself. At last.

No one should have to hide who they are. Especially from themselves! So take care of yourself. Acknowledge and honor yourself. Love yourself. Including your femme self that, sometimes, maybe nobody else gets to see. You still know its there.

It also does not mean that a full transition, surgery or even hormones are necessary. There is a spectrum to all of this. Explore that and find whatever you are truly comfortable with along the way.

That will be your answer.

#transgender support #trans pride #transsexual #transisbeautiful #transgender #cross dressing #gender dysphoria #male to female #lgbtqia

[sgiandubh]

Credo che in questo fandom ci siano persone che seguono le vicende di S e C dall’inizio. Potrebbero collaborare a fare un album fotografico di tutte le ragazze che sono state affibbiate a Sam e vedere come il metodo si ripeta continuamente. La linea che chiamerei “ direttiva “ è ogni volta corredata da vari avvenimenti collaterali. Siamo partiti con una attrice passando per intrattenitrici , figlie di personaggi importanti modelle e ora sportive . Mi convinco sempre più che l’ideatore o gli ideatori di questi amori massmediali siano gli stessi del 2016.Nessuno degli Antis si preoccupa della vita di Caitriona: lei ha diritto alla sua privacy mentre Sam decisamente no.Sam cosa faresti per amore? gli è stato chiesto, tutto farei tutto., ha risposto E sta facendo proprio di tutto per proteggere chi ama.D’altronde se così non fosse queste donne sarebbero apparse al suo fianco in molte occasioni pubbliche essendo lui single alla ricerca del vero amore . Questa noiosa ripetitività come non può colpire anche quelli del lato opposto? E se posso fare un’osservazione S in questi ruoli non recita affatto bene .Una cotta, una passione o anche solamente un’attrazione fisica ti rende felice. Qui non vedo niente di scoppiettante , solo una coppia che sembra clandestina quando l’obiettivo è quello di essere pubblica. Se sei felice non lo puoi nascondere! Scusa la lunghezza di questo intervento ma sono cose talmente assurde e così poco interessanti!!!

Dear @findanserwers,

Sempre un piacere leggerti. Sai, a volte tutta questa farsa mi fa pensare a uno dei nostri programmi di giochi preferiti, su Rai Uno - Affari Tuoi (lo so, lo so, eh? 🤣). Non si sa mai cosa porterà con sé il prossimo pacco - forse un blu, un rosso, forse il Dottore chiamerà 👽... Ma puoi sempre scommettere che l'avidità di denaro e d'attenzione dei 'pacchisti' li terranno lì finché non avranno esaurito tutte le loro possibilità. Boh, anche se sappiamo che gli schemi continuano ad andare avanti, c'è sempre questo strano, quasi perverso senso di anticipazione.

Scrivi:

'I think we have, in this fandom, people who follow S&C's adventures since the very beginning. They could all collaborate and make photo album with all the girls who have been associated with Sam and see the pattern repeating itself over and over again. The line I would call 'directive' is every single time accompanied by all sorts of side events. We started with an actress, passing through entertainers, daughters of important people, models and now athletes. I am increasingly convinced that the creator or creators of these media love stories are the same as in 2016. None of the Antis care about Caitriona's life: she has the right to her privacy, while Sam definitely doesn't. Sam, what would you do for love? he was asked. I would do everything, he answered. And he is doing everything to protect the people he loves. On the other hand, if this were not the case, these women would have appeared at his side on many public occasions as he is officially single and in search of true love. How can this boring repetitiveness not also affect those on the opposite side? And, if I may make an observation, S doesn't act well at all, in these 'roles'. A crush, a passion or even just physical attraction makes you happy. I don't see anything flashy here, just a couple that looks clandestine, when the obvious goal would be to show off freely in public. If you are happy you can't hide it! Sorry for the length of this post but these things are so absurd and so uninteresting!!!'

Isn't it strange that, even if we know it so well, by now, we keep on following all this #shitshow every single time, as if somehow, something might turn out different?

Except it doesn't really, does it? TMcG will always look like he is about to have dental surgery (plus now wearing more make up than Berlusconi or Tutankhamun ever did) and S will always look nervous (who, in their right mind, would think biting his finger was sexy?!), out of place and even sometimes borderline rude. Organic, my foot: I am ready to accept one of their stories might look bizarre and manufactured as fuck, but BOTH? At the SAME TIME?

Yeah. And pigs fly.

#ask #fandom #shitshow

[ivaspinoza]

Does a writer love to write?

Oh, to be a writer! A poet, an artist. What a blessing — or a curse? I said this before, as a joke, that "writers are cursed to write, no matter what" happens or how long it takes between intervals. Writers will write. They might struggle, mostly inside their own heads, but they will write. And they will feel accomplished for doing that.

During my block time, I used to try and try to write, not because I had to, but because I couldn't help but to keep trying and writing the weirdest words, absolutely nonsense shit — until one day, I went back on track. Not writing was never an option. I tried to give up this, many times when I was at a bad place mentally. I felt that I wasn't a writer because I wasn't writing, but this only led me to this previously shared conclusion I keep as a mantra:

"I do not write because I want to be a writer, I write because I am one."

Some people will lick an artist's shoes and treat them as their saviour. This is the same type of people who might think having a degree makes them automatically smart, that every doctor knows what they are doing, and that artists are somehow a superior class of people. I was talking with my beloved @goodluckclove about it today (the main reason I'm writing this), about how being an Artist, or a Writer, is just another job, like being a Teacher, a Baker, a Parent, a CEO or a Janitor. Some artists will even tell you they had no "talent" at all, they just decided to commit and learn. I can draw and I always tell people that it is pure muscle memory. Just practice. Just commit.

But there is also that sparkle, that inspiration, that epiphany, right? That thing that art causes. What makes some works of art shine and hit you with eternal impact? Just practice? This is a long, deep, crazy, boring, infinite debate, but to me the answer is simple.

It's the soul.

That's why AI will never be able to do it. The soul carries memory, information, patterns, feelings, mysteries, and language (unspoken, holy, different languages, that we don't know much about). Some works are technically fantastic but soulless. Some are full of soul, but lack skill. However, the soul is always a part of it, as it is for a doctor when their soul shakes in grief after putting everything they had in for a 72-hour surgery just to lose their patient. Everything goes through the soul. Have you met a soulless doctor? I have.

What about a teacher helping a student to overcome their difficulties? A mother in a 72-hour labour to deliver her baby, with a father who didn't leave her side? Parents that actually take their time and energy to raise conscious, cared for and loved human beings? When a CEO thinks of what is best for the team, and comes up with a brilliant idea, instead of just caring about money? When a janitor makes a place clean and tidy for others, instead of neglecting it? It is not the job itself that is important, but the motivation, the intention, and the heart behind it. That is what makes it valuable.

Our trades will always affect the ones around us. Human nature is deeply connected to the desire to be useful and serve. Not to be stuck at this point forever, but to me, a big reason for so much pain and depression in the modern world is how self-centred our culture pushes us to be. "All about me"! Too much thinking in your head will make you crazy (I would know). But when we are useful, we find peace and rest from ourselves, we connect, and we are in reality, grounded in the present.

Will you love it every time? Nope. Not naturally. But do we have to hate it?

As an artist, poetess, writer, I can tell you that I didn't always love to do it. Sometimes, it was painful. Sometimes, it brings me physical discomfort or it can be disturbing because of my own limitations and issues — the artist himself is in his work (I will die on this hill, because of the soul). But I don't believe and I won't ever advocate for the tortured artist figure, for the "I hate being a poet", although I can't think I ever got these words from any poet.

"I hate making art!" "I hate my kids!" "I hate to live!"

I think it's time to wake up to the levels of desensitisation we have come to. These contemporary times unfold in absolute glorification of evil as if everything painful and ugly was "more artistic". We don't have to avoid hard themes and make it taboo out of them, but we do need a counterbalance. We also need responsibility and honesty when choosing our themes and our artistic or literary approach. And we do need to stop hating things all the time. We need a mature creative world.

It is easier and faster to break than it is to build. It's easier to hurt than to heal. Look around. We have almost nothing left to "break" at this point. I'm in search of beauty again. Out with lanterns. The beauty in you and in me. Not for the glorification of the artist, or of the art itself, but for the Love that keeps me going, that designed me for a particular job, and that I plan to execute in love.

"Let all you do be done in love", it's written. But because I know Love is not only feeling, even when I don't feel like doing it, I will go back into Love, into humility, and do it to the best of my strength. I will do it so that when I have the opportunity to serve someone by it, they feel love. We put our soul into it, and it's not an aesthetic, not a fancy ethereal trend; there is no need for applause. I will do it like that because in that doing is the reward itself, not in the praise or the prize.

All is vanity. Love is the reward.

#writers on tumblr #writers and poets #poets on tumblr #writeblr #poetry #spilled ink #creative writing #ivatalks #on writing #about writing #writers on writing #writers of tumblr #writers and readers #writers #women poets #women writers #female writer #female poets #poetess #novel writing #fiction #original fiction #writing advice #writing tips #how to write #writing help #thoughts on writing #writerscommunity #writer stuff #tumblr writers

[powdermelonkeg]

I want to write a world that is explicitly ablist in its design, but I don't wanna come off as endorsing it in any way. Any tips on how I could do that?

The trick with that is to separate the tone of the narration from the world itself. You want your setting's background characters to accept something as normal, but you want to unsettle your audience with what the characters are willing to ignore.

This is how I would go about it.

Let's say, for instance, you want to make a world that's actively hostile to blind and low-vision people. By design, nothing would be catered to them; crosswalks wouldn't have sound cues, braille doesn't exist, tripping hazards are everywhere, service dogs aren't allowed.

That's, unfortunately, already reality for a lot of the blind community, so you're already basing it on something realistic. Making a world like that and not doing anything with it would come across as endorsing it on your part, because it looks like you just didn't consider blind people when making your setting.

So you do have to do something with it.

Let's take it a step further.

Lean into the tragedies this makes and the callousness of the everyday person. A blind man got hit with a car while crossing the street—your reader feels sympathy for them. But your main character overhears people discussing it, and the passers-by sound blunt and cruel: "It's his own fault he got hit, he should have gotten someone to walk him." "Didn't he have anyone who can take care of him?" "I hope the driver didn't get fined too badly, they really should just make hazardous people stay home."

Stigmatize things over-the-top: Glasses are a sign of moral failing, because the local religion equates lack of vision with punishment from the gods. Why would a god forbid its creation from seeing its world, if not to punish them? So people forego glasses. They have to examine things uncomfortably close, they laugh off their bad reading skills, they get into crashes more often. A hospital patient starts going blind and has a panic attack, they were such a good person, how could this happen to them? It'll get better soon, right? Right?!

Make people go to harder lengths to avoid falling into the traps the setting has laid for them. People willing to shell out their life savings to get expensive surgery to restore their sight—except it doesn't always work, sometimes it messes your brain up further, but hey, that's a risk you need to take. Gran didn't survive the procedure, but Gran was old, those things happen to other people, not to you. Then have your setting capitalize on it—it's not just that you can restore your sight with the risky surgery, but you socially have no choice. Everyone is pestering you until you get it, your parents are looking down on you for not having perfect sight, and companies won't hire you, but there are ads in the paper for three different acclaimed doctors, and you know a guy who knows someone in a back alley that does it for half the cost, but is notorious for scarring their patients.

Your reader doesn't live in this reality. They'll read these and collectively go "What fresh hell is this."

An ableist author writing an ableist setting doesn't do this. Their setting is detrimental to their disabled characters, if they have any at all, but the detriment is either never touched on or is framed as "necessary."

If an author endorsing this kind of setting were to place a story in it, they would have a token blind character on the side that needs help constantly, that's patronized but never has a problem with it, who gets the pricey surgery, gets out of it scot-free, and is so SO happy to be "normal" again.

An author that doesn't endorse the setting and wants you to be unhappy with it has that same character scared of the procedure, but their friends and family urge them to get it anyways. They face hardships because they can't see, to the point where they finally cave in and get it, except it doesn't go perfectly—even if they have sight now, they also have to deal with constant pain, overstimulation, and light sensitivity. And yes, everyone treats them "better" now that they can see, but that's a gut-wrenching thing; they get into arguments with their parents because "you didn't love me until I had sight," they go quiet in job interviews because a job they fought so hard for before is just handed to them now, they receive blessings they don't want from a religion that "calls them home" from the sin of being blind.

THAT is how you write an ableist setting explicitly portrayed as ableist. You make the setting cause hardship and pain, and you write it in such a way that your reader would never want to endure that aspect of it.

Cheat code checklist:

Add features/remove aids to get in the disability's way

Have background characters victim-blame the disabled that live in it

Make the social setting unbearable for a disabled character

Show the struggles of a character WITH that disability living in that setting

#disability #writeblr #ask bee

[drsonnet]

The Chilling Testimony of a U.S. Neurosurgeon Who Went to Gaza to Save Lives

Haaretz: Netta Ahituv May 9, 2024

When everyone who was able to flee from Gaza was doing so, Dr. David Hasan made the reverse journey. His story is a must-read for every Israeli

At the end of December 2023, when everyone who was able to flee from the Gaza Strip was doing so, Prof. David Hasan made the reverse journey. Hasan, a senior neurosurgeon and an esteemed researcher at Duke University in North Carolina, decided to fly to Cairo and from there to make his way to Rafah and enter Gaza.

"Until the war broke out, I was focused on advancing my career and taking care of my family," Hasan, who is 50, tells Haaretz in a video interview. "But this situation – which touched me from both sides [of the border] – overwhelmed me emotionally and pulled me in. I felt I had to do something to help."

Hasan was a member of the first medical team – consisting of 18 physicians from the United States, Canada and England – to enter the Strip after the start of the war. They arrived through Rahma Worldwide (an American humanitarian organization) and the organization Medical Aid for Palestine, under the auspices of the United Nations and the World Health Organization.

"The UN and WHO facilitated our entry and assisted with regard to the medications and surgical equipment we brought with us," Hasan says. "But they also informed us in advance that once we entered Gaza, they would have no way of providing us with protection." The doctors were asked to sign a document waiving the UN of any responsibility for their welfare, which, he says, "made the situation all the more threatening."

Their mission was to get to the European Gaza Hospital, near Khan Yunis in the southern Strip, and spend a week there performing surgery on adults and children. Then, less than two months ago, Hasan entered Gaza again on a similar mission, and saw firsthand the transformation that had taken place there since his previous visit.

"The first thing you see in Rafah," he relates, "is miles and miles of hanging fabrics – the tents of the displaced people, which are erected against the background of the ruins of buildings. When you turn onto Saladin Road, which is the main road connecting Gaza's north and south, suddenly you see an ocean of people. These are the displaced people who live there now. As you get closer to the hospital, you see more and more people, and more and more tents."

The hospital itself looked like a refugee camp, Hasan says. "I was confused, because I had never seen so many people living inside a hospital. Every corner there was occupied by a group of people. They made use of every available item – a small curtain, a staircase, a plastic chair – and turned it into their living space. Entire families huddled on squares of two meters by two meters, and ate, drank and slept there. Walking in the hospital, you had to be careful not to step on people."

On the day he entered the Gaza Strip in December, Hasan notes, he didn't see Israeli troops or hear explosions. "I thought the war was in some kind of lull. But as soon as evening fell, heavy shelling started, and I realized that there were many Israeli forces around the hospital – you just don't see them during the day. The noise of a one-ton bomb is deafening. The first time one was dropped nearby, I happened to be standing on a stool, and I fell off, because the building shook so hard. It went on like that every five or 10 minutes. I asked the local doctors what to do, and they told me that you get used to it and that I should just keep working to distract myself from the anxiety."

Where did you sleep? What did you eat?

"I slept in the hospital, ate mostly energy bars that my wife and daughter had packed for me, and drank mineral water. The water situation there worries me the most, and since returning for the first time, I have talked about water sanitation everywhere and with everyone I can. We lost many patients due to water-related infections."

Immediately upon arriving at the hospital, the physicians began operating. "In the process, we discovered that there weren't enough anesthetics, not enough equipment and not even clean water to wash our hands between operations. Sometimes there were no gloves and sometimes we lacked basic medicines. We were compelled to perform limb amputations without anesthetics and C-sections without sedatives. In order to do as much as we could, we would operate on two patients at the same time in the same operating room."

Throughout his first week there, Hasan relates, there was constant, heavy shelling. "During the night, it was not possible to rescue anyone from the ruins, both because there was no electricity and everything was dark, and also because just being outside was dangerous. So people who were wounded during the night remained where they were until morning. Many of them died from loss of blood or reached us in worse condition because they did not receive immediate treatment. Every morning around 8, a wave of wounded people arrived who had been rescued from the ruins of the night. At that point, around nine out of 10 of them could not be saved.

"The hospital has only 250 beds, so at any given moment, you have to make difficult decisions, as there were about 1,200 wounded. He can be saved, she can't, this wound requires resources that we don't have, we may be able to treat this wound. The feeling is that it would have been possible to save many of the wounded if we had more medical equipment, intensive-care beds and the possibility of hospitalizing them for further treatment."

Are there any of the wounded whom you remember in particular?

"From a medical point of view, I remember a boy of maybe 12 or 13 years old, who arrived with bleeding from his eye, from being hit by shrapnel. It was clear that he needed surgery, but there was a two-hour line for the operating room. During the wait, a main artery burst inside his brain and blood began spurting from his eye. I'd never seen anything like that before. He died, of course.

"From a humanitarian point of view, I remember a boy about 2 years old who was seriously hurt by a bomb. He arrived together with many other children who had been in the same house. The moment I saw him I knew we would not be able to save him, so I had to give the only oxygen canister that was available to another wounded child, who had a better chance of surviving. He was alone, with no one by his side as he was dying. I took a picture of him with the phone and went out to see if anyone knew his relatives. I was told that his whole family was buried under the ruins, and that he was the only one who had been pulled out. I decided that this child would not die without someone noticing and crying over him, and I realized that it would have to be me. I held him to me, I cried over him and I named him 'Jacob.' I vowed that if I have a son, I will name him 'Jacob' in his memory.

"Another case I remember is of three siblings – a 10-year-old boy, a 6-year-old girl and a baby boy of one and a half. According to what I was told, they had been in a house that was surrounded by Hamas activity. Israeli soldiers entered the house at night. In the dark, they thought the father was a Hamas operative and they killed him. The mother ran toward the father and she was killed too. The two parents lay there dead, but outside there was bombing taking place. The three children lay down on their parents until the sun came up. Not until morning did people come to take them out of the house. Someone brought them to the hospital.

"I remember that the eldest son held the little one and calmed him because he was crying, and at the same time took care of his sister, who didn't stop shaking like a leaf in a storm. They were covered with their parents' blood. We cleaned them and I brought them some toys and small dolls that my daughter had asked me to give to the children in Gaza. When I gave them the toys, I saw a small smile and they said to me, 'Thank you, Uncle David.' You could see that they were educated and polite children. I was relieved to learn that at some point a relative came and took them. I will never forget them – the thought of the shocking night they went through and the way the 10-year-old, the senior among them, suddenly became a parental figure."

David Hasan was born and raised in Kuwait to a Muslim Palestinian family, who had immigrated there from the West Bank in 1967, following the Six-Day War. It would not be the family's last war-induced emigration. The second time was in the Gulf War, in 1990, when they relocated from Kuwait to Jordan. Hasan, who had always dreamed of becoming a doctor, was accepted to premed studies in the United States and moved there alone at the age of 18.

Where did your unusual combination of names come from – a Jewish first name and an Arab surname?

"When I moved to the United States, I connected mainly with Jews and Israelis, and they helped me acclimate. They accompanied me through various crises, and I decided to change my name from Emad to David. I also had two Jewish girlfriends, one of whom I accompanied on a visit to Israel. By then, I already had an American passport, but in Israel they wouldn't let me enter and wanted to deport me on the next flight to the United States.

"This was a traumatic experience for my girlfriend, so I insisted on talking to the security manager and told him that instead of kicking me out, they should give me a prize. 'A prize? Why should I give you a prize?' he asked. I replied that thanks to me, my girlfriend had come here for the first time in her life. Jewish donors and the State of Israel pay so much money for Jews from all over the world to visit Israel, and here I was, at my expense, inviting a Jewish woman who would never have visited here if I hadn't insisted on it. He went off, muttering, 'It's only in fucking America that Palestinians go out with Jews.' After a while, I was informed that I could enter Israel. Other than that episode, I remember the visit fondly."

Hasan is married to Lauren Hasan, who worked as a trauma surgeon, and they have a 7-year-old daughter. They live near Duke, a private university in Durham, North Carolina. Hasan does clinical work, research and teaching and is considered a leading expert in the field of cerebrovascular disorders and brain-tumor surgery. He has published more than 270 scientific articles in major journals.

Hasan does not hesitate to attest to his love for Israel and Israelis, and talks about close friends in the country. He also has close ties with the Israeli NGO Physicians for Human Rights and with the Arava Institute for Environmental Studies, with both of which, together with UNICEF (the United Nations Children's Emergency Fund), he is trying to promote emergency water purification projects in Gaza. They have already received approval from Israel's Coordinator of Government Activities in the Territories and a promise of funding from USAID.

Asked how he reconciles the Israeli-Palestinian dissonance in his life, he replies simply, "I distance myself from groups that label the Israelis as only one thing and the Palestinians as another. I focus only on moral actions and on ways in which I can help practically."

American universities, including Duke, have become an arena of protests over the war. How do you deal with this?

"We launched an initiative at the university that offers all students the opportunity to be active in assisting victims of the war in all kinds of ways, as they wish, on whichever side they choose. We thought this would allow people to channel their anger into action instead of protesting and arguing among themselves. So far, it seems to be working well. I have already brought in Duke students – Palestinians and Jews – to be part of the water project and work together as a team. I tell my medical students that just as doctors are expected to be blind to their patients' origin, skin color, religion or gender, their attitude toward victims of war should be the same – I suggest to them to think about human beings and not about 'sides.'"

Hasan practices in his life what he preaches to his students. He went to help the Gazans, but the Israeli hostages in the hands of Hamas haunt his thoughts, and he brings up the subject frequently during his interview with Haaretz. On his first visit to Gaza, Hasan hoped he would be able to pressure the appropriate people to talk to members of the Hamas leadership to allow him to visit captives in order to assist them medically. He was warned that even raising the subject would endanger him and the entire delegation, but he insisted. In any event, it didn't happen, of course. No one knows if the request even reached any Hamas officials. Again, in his second visit to Gaza, in March, he put out feelers about the possibility of offering the captives medical aid. Once more, to no avail.

"I walked around the hospital and looked, searched and asked everyone I could if they had seen, heard or knew anything about them [the Israeli hostages]. I also looked for people with weapons, who might be guarding some room, but I didn't see anything like that either. As someone who saw what Gaza looks like aboveground, I can only imagine how terrible the conditions are for the hostages. I assume they don't get enough food, access to a shower or medical services. I also read the testimonies about sexual assault. God knows what condition they are in. I feel pain for them and their families and wish for their release as quickly as possible."

On the last day of the first trip to Gaza, Hasan began sweating and developed a fever. Once he left the Strip, he found out that he was infected with COVID-19, although he had of course been vaccinated. On the second trip, too, he returned home with a mysterious virus. "The situation in Gaza is the perfect storm for viruses – a combination of wounds that become infected because they cannot be cleaned properly, hospitals without proper sanitation and an absence of antibiotics. Add to that water unfit for drinking and a generally appalling sanitary situation. Almost every person we operated on died a few days later, due to infection. It suddenly came to me that surgery was like a death sentence for them. At one point I asked myself what I was doing there if I couldn't save people."

And what was your conclusion?

"That I should continue to do my best. Even if I saved one person, it is still worth the effort. From Judaism I learned that whoever saves one soul, it is as though he saved an entire world. I wanted to be a part of the hope in this conflict and make a difference, even if a small one, for the people who were hurt in it and are considered 'collateral damage.'"

What did you feel when you left the first time?

"Leaving is a bittersweet moment. On the one hand, it's a relief, and on the other hand, I was heartbroken and felt guilty for leaving these people, who need me. I have the option to leave, they don't. From being faceless numbers that I read about in the news, they became for me human beings with names, stories, aspirations and dreams. My consolation is that at least they saw that there were people who cared about them, people who had come a long way and were risking themselves for them, and maybe that would give them hope. I told them that although my body was leaving Gaza, my heart was staying there with them."

In mid-March, some two and a half months after the first visit, Hasan arrived in the Gaza Strip again. This time it was through Medtronic, one of the world's largest producers of medical devices, which was shipping equipment into Gaza. "On Friday I performed a complex operation at Duke Hospital, and within hours I was on my way to Cairo, with half a million dollars worth of medical equipment," Hasan relates. "In Egypt, I was able to get another ton of diapers and baby food, and then went on to Rafah."

There was a palpable difference between the two visits, Hasan relates. To begin with, the second time, there were fewer bombs falling, and they were smaller. On the other hand, however, he encountered more hunger and a higher density of displaced people. "I saw people who had clearly lost a great deal of weight and many more cases of infectious diseases. Mothers arrived with no milk to feed their babies, they were so weak. I remember one woman in her late 20s, an engineer by profession, who told me, 'Dr. David, my baby is crying and I can't do anything. You know Israeli women, right? Maybe you can appeal to them, in the name of the solidarity of women and mothers, to get them to request that at least we can have food for our babies sent to us? Tell them that here too there are mothers with feelings and aspirations for their children.'"

On the second visit, there were fewer medical staff evident, Hasan recalls, and those who were there showed signs of extreme burnout. "They don't earn money, their children are dying at home, and in addition, every trip to the hospital and back entails risking their life or getting bad news from home. Two doctors who worked alongside me returned home after a 24-hour shift and found that their families were buried under the ruins of the house they were in. Many of them felt that they had done their part and now had to worry about the survival of their own families. Those who remained were so exhausted that they developed indifference. A wounded person would arrive, and they would say it was preferable for the person to die, because we didn't have the means for taking care of him. I will not forget taking care of a 5-year-old boy with burns all over his body, who himself told me, 'I wish I was dead. ' At some point I also started to think that it would be better like that, because to be born a weak baby in Gaza means suffering a death sentence in agony."

In addition, Hasan relates, "There was a feeling of chaos, that things were much less organized than last time, that there was no authority or hierarchy. Everyone is worried about their own survival, hunger has an effect, and all kinds of groups were taking advantage of this situation in an awful way. Patients now began arriving who had been shot by [other] Palestinians in fights over food. Imagine hungry people who haven't eaten in days and have children to feed. They will do anything to get food."

The chaos Hasan describes almost cost him his life. On the way from Cairo to Rafah, the Egyptian driver asked him to deliver a bag of sweets to a Palestinian family he knew in Gaza for the Ramadan holiday. Hasan agreed and asked the driver to tell the family to look for him at the hospital. But when he arrived to collect the medical equipment at the border crossing, he discovered that it was not one bag but three huge sacks of sweets. It was certainly not a gift for a family.

He went up to one of the guards at the border, explained the situation and asked him for his advice. The guard explained to him that Egyptian and Gazan merchants were trying to take advantage of the situation to sell things at high prices – the goods he had might fetch thousands of dollars on the black market. He suggested that Hasan leave the sweets there and promised that he and his colleagues would distribute them for free to children for the holiday.

"On the way to the hospital, my phone kept ringing," Hasan recalls. "It turns out that these were the people to whom I was supposed to deliver the sweets. That night, at the hospital, about 10 people with guns suddenly appeared and demanded the candy. They said they were members of Hamas, but later it turned out that they weren't, they just wanted to scare me. It was actually a family that had seized control of a share of the black market. They told me that they knew my name was David and that I was actually an Israeli."

Hasan. "I walked around the hospital and looked, searched and asked everyone if they had seen, heard or knew anything about the Israeli hostages." Allison Joyce/AFP

The Chilling Testimony of a U.S. Neurosurgeon Who Went to Gaza to Save Lives Haaretz Netta... | Middle East (similarworlds.com)

Detroit doctor has never seen anything worse than crisis he witnessed in Gaza

Detroit doctor has never seen anything worse than crisis he saw in Gaza (freep.com)

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[cocklessboy]

Bafflingly, some of my posts are yet again getting notes from terfs and transphobes, so once again, here is a reminder that:

I am literally trans and extremely happy about it. Love being trans and injecting myself with testosterone and being hairy and having a deep voice and being called "sir" by strangers. It fucking rocks.

Trans rights and let people do whatever they want with their bodies and gender presentation forever.

Men are great, I love men, they are not evil or inherently dangerous.

Penises are not inherently dangerous.

Women can have penises and men can have vaginas and anyone can have any combination of genitals and it's none of your business what they have.

Trans men are men, trans women are women, nonbinary people are nonbinary, people's gender is whatever they say it is and I don't care how many times they change it.

Trans women are great, I love trans women. I love all trans people but trans women get a special shout-out because they really seem to have to put up with the most bullshit, hate, discrimination, and violence. I am giving every trans woman who wants one a hug and/or a fresh-baked cookie and telling you how beautiful you look.

Yes, every trans woman is beautiful, this transcends cultural ideas about what is attractive, they are all inherently beautiful.

Intersex people are fucking awesome too by the way, whether they're trans or cis or don't think of themselves in either of those terms.

No one is giving the surgeries you're all so afraid of to typical trans kids, but they sure as fuck are doing them on literal babies who were just born if they are visibly intersex and that is some fucked up shit and needs to be banned everywhere forever.

Conversion therapy is just torture, doesn't work, does immeasurable harm, and should be banned in every circumstance everywhere in the world forever. (That also includes conversion therapy for autistic kids, typically called "ABA therapy," just while we're on the topic.)

People can fuck around and explore gender and try something and decide it's not for them and transition and detransition and retransition and redetransition as many times as they want and that's all fine and cool.

Dysphoria is not a necessary part of being trans, you can be trans without dysphoria. Gender euphoria is more important than gender dysphoria.

Medical transition is not a necessary part of being trans, you can be trans without hormones or surgery.

Not all trans people know they're trans as children. Some of us don't figure it out until we're much older. (I was 35!) It doesn't matter when you realize you're trans, it's still valid.

Ignore whatever other people say about who you "really" are and whether you're "allowed" to be that. You are whatever version of you makes you feel the happiest with yourself, end of discussion.

Gender can also change. Genderfluid people are real and valid and awesome.

Trans people are in no way inherently a danger to children. While we're at it, neither are drag queens, I love drag queens too.

Misogyny is inherent in our culture and we are all touched by it but we can choose to fight against it, and that includes transmisogyny.

Medical misogyny is real and it sucks and we need to fight against it. (So is medical racism and medical fatphobia and all kinds of other discrimination.) These are structural problems caused by the way doctors are trained and not the result of men being evil. Female doctors are frequently just as bad or even worse in how they treat female patients.

Toxic masculinity is real and baked into our culture but it is not an inherent aspect of men or masculinity itself, it is something we are taught growing up, it can be unlearned, and we can fight against it.

Men are not inherently bad or dangerous, and if you hate all men you should genuinely get some therapy and work on that. Yeah, even if you were traumatized by a man, that doesn't mean they're all bad. The vast majority of them are good and awesome.

If you have been so badly traumatized by a penis that you can't handle seeing one, then I am genuinely sorry to hear that, but it is on you to avoid any place where people might be naked, and not on literally half the human race to hide themselves from you.

Women can also be aggressive, violent, and abusive. They are not all inherently pure and gentle and nurturing.

Most women are good too though, just like most men. People are mostly good!

Gender is not a binary but neither is "biological sex." Your third-grade education in biology was, believe it or not, extremely simplified, because you were a child, and does not reflect actual reality. If you can't face that, then I guess you are still a child, no matter how old you are.

Feminism is about how women are as good as men and can do everything men can, not about how women are weak and soft and men are better at everything. That's sexism, you're doing sexism, not feminism.

Fuck terfs, transphobes, radfems, "gender criticals," or whatever the fuck else you're calling yourselves these days when you realize once again that everyone hates you so you change your name to try to make yourselves sound like you're not a small, sad group of conservative extremists that, again, everyone seriously fucking hates.

Focusing on helping the people you love is more important and productive than focusing on punishing the people you hate, so once more: trans people are fucking awesome and I love every one of us.

Trans rights forever.

In the words of the legendary @drchucktingle, love is real. Now get out there and prove love and make your world a little brighter today.

Terfs please out yourselves in the notes so I can block you. 💖

#transgender #queer #lgbtqia+ #trans #transphobia #fuck terfs #fuck transphobes #fuck radfems #fuck sexism #trans rights