#thank you to all healthcare workers

[deliciousbasementtrash]

Playing Nurse for the Batfam

Artist: Norm Breyfogle

Summary: you are a nurse working for Gotham General Hospital. Batman is working tirelessly to find out who you are. What will you do when he finds you? What will he do?

Pairing: Slowburn Jason Todd x reader, (maybe a why choose with Dick Grayson as well?? Idk tell me what you guys want)

Warning: Adult language, breaking in and entering

Word Count: 1.4k

Note: These characters are not my own they belong to DC. The only character that is 'mine' is the reader. I am going to be as nondescript as possible for the reader as well for physical attributes. This is a continuation series; I’m not sure how long it will be. Also for some reason, my replies to comments are not showing up. I’m not ignoring your comments Tumblr won’t let me respond :( But please, please comment I live for it 

Part One Part Three

Part Two: Job Opportunity

“Master Bruce, do you think there is a possibility that this manhunt of yours may be born out of paranoia? Or perhaps an injury-induced delirium?” Alfred asked, as Bruce manically typed information into the Batcomputer. 

“That’s the problem, Alfred. There are no injuries. None. She healed me. She saw my face.” Bruce’s low voice rumbled. 

“Only you, Master Bruce, would consider a lack of injuries a problem,” Alfred sardonically stated. “Are you quite sure it was a woman?”

Bruce didn’t bother with a verbal response. He merely gave a curt nod. The sound of the elevator pinging and the door opening did not budge Bruce’s concentration from the computer. 

“Bruce, I’m back from Commissioner Gordon’s. The fingerprint is a dud. There are no matches in the criminal database,” Dick said, jumping into a rolly chair and sliding very loudly over toward Bruce. 

“That narrows it down, only about 25% of women in Gotham don’t have any form of criminal record,” Bruce muttered out loud. He didn’t particularly care if anyone heard. It moreso was for his train of thought. Bruce continued typing furiously, “I’ll check it against the other databases.”

Dick spun aggressively in his chair, “You got that fingerprint off your suit, right? What about the mask that was left?”

“The mask had been unused and freshly opened. There were some traces of fingerprints on that but my blood made them nearly impossible to ascertain,” Bruce said flatly. Bruce’s computer flashed with an oncoming message from Barbara. 

[The street cam footage was shaky, but I got a general description. She is about __ tall, with __ hair, and __ skin. It also appears that she is wearing a medical uniform that is issued for Gotham General Hospital. You’re welcome, Babs.]

Dick leaned so close to the computer that his and Bruce’s cheeks touched, “Wow I didn’t realize you brought in the big gun Babs. You want this girl found.”

Bruce tried not to smile at the ridiculous boy, “She saw my identity, Dick.”

Dick inhaled sharply through his teeth, “What are you going to do when you find her?”

A few ideas popped into Bruce’s mind, not all of them were legal. 

“He hasn’t got a clue, Master Dick,” Alfred said, spawning behind the two men, holding a silver tray with a bowl of Lucky Charms on it for Dick and a large black coffee for Bruce. 

“Thank you, Alfred,” Dick said, taking the cereal, “I mean she saved your life, Bruce. She hasn’t told anyone your identity,” Dick said, feeling the odd need to defend this girl he has never met. 

“She could just be selling the information to the highest bidder,” Bruce said, sharply taking a glug of coffee. 

Dick held back from rolling his eyes. He looked at the monitor and stared at the girl. “She saved your life when she didn’t have to. I don’t think she would ruin it on a whim. Not every person is out to get you, Bruce.”

And with that Dick and Alfred left Bruce alone in the Batcave. 

Bruce took another long sip of his coffee and continued his search. A small smile, barely a smirk lifted on his lips. 

It was a good thing that healthcare workers needed to get fingerprinted. 

He found her. Now all he needed was a solid plan. 

************************************************************************

“Y/n please girl. Please, please, please, please, please,” Sam begged jokingly with her hands together. 

“Nope! No! I am not taking another patient with bed bugs! I took the last one for you and I felt itchy for a week. Besides I have my hands full with an IICP and a stabbing,” I said, wagging my finger at my friend. 

“Gah fine! Wish me luck. I’m manifesting that I have rancid energy that repels beg bugs but is very welcoming and kind to patients.”

I laughed at her, “When you figure out that ratio please let me know, babe.”

The rest of the shift went by quickly, and mostly uneventful. I healed the head injury enough that no surgery would be required. I healed that stabbing enough that he could go home stable the next day. I healed a gunshot wound. A sick two-year-old with a fever. And so on. By the time I was walking out the back of my eyes burned and my back throbbed. I needed to do some stretching. Maybe take a long bath with some Epsom salt and a dirty romance novel. 

My walk home was uneventful. I was grateful to see my apartment. I wanted to shower, sleep, and cuddle Hashbrown. 

I turned the key to my apartment and stepped my leg in to block an anticipatory escape plan from Hashbrown. I scrunched my eyebrows in confusion when she did not greet me at the door. A sense of unease flooded my body and I rushed in.

“Hashbrown? Here kitty-kitty!” I yelled in my sing-song voice for her. The hairs on my neck stood up. Something about the energy in my home was different. It was charged. Slowly, I grabbed my pepper spray. With my other hand, I grabbed my phone. 

Out of the darkness, there was a twing of metal and my phone and pepper spray were on the ground. Quickly, I turned to run out the door. 

“I just want to talk,” a gruff voice said from the darkness. I fumbled my hand against the wall and flicked on the light. 

I tried not to laugh. 

Batman was in my living room, with my cat on his lap. Hashbrown, the traitor seemed completely enamored by him. Some guard cat she was. 

I walked casually to my kitchen, to my fridge. “Do you want anything to eat or drink, Batman? I have some leftover Thai food, some diet cherry vanilla coke, water, coffee, tea?” 

“None for me,” he said, his voice seemingly lower by the second. 

After my dinner was assembled I joined him on the couch. I faced across from him. “What do you want to talk about? And why the fuck did you feel like it was okay to break into my apartment?”

“You’re bold. Is it a front to hide your fear of me?” He asked as Hashbrown nuzzled against his sharp chin. 

I looked at him, almost annoyed, “Should I be afraid, Bruce?” 

“I guess that depends on your answer,” Bruce said, intentionally not finishing his statement. 

“If you want an answer you need to ask me a question,” my tone was sharp. My anger was surging. I just got off a thirteen-hour shift of a four-day stretch. I just wanted to eat, shower, and go to bed. But this oversized emo chicken was interrupting that. 

“What would you do if the world knew about your healing powers?” He asked, and my heart stopped. 

“What would you do if the world knew your identity, Bruce Wayne?” I practically hissed the last part. How dare he break into my apartment, pet my cat, and threaten me? 

“It would be the end of the Batman,” Bruce said.

I looked him dead in the eyes. I held no fear. I just showed him my true exhaustion. “If you’re worried about me telling anyone, I won’t. Call it personal morals or call it fucking HIPPA I don’t care. I’m not going to tell because you were my patient and I cared for you. End of story. Now get out of my house.”

“Would you like to work for me and my family?”

The offer caught me so off guard I almost got whiplash from it. “Excuse me?”

“You would be a permanent first responder that lived in the Wayne Manor full time. Full benefits. A salary ten times what you are making now. You will need to sign an employment contract and an NDA. Your cat of course can also live at the manor. Your services will just need to be available 24/7.”

My mind whirled, “Give me a week to think about it. Write a draft proposal and give it to me as soon as possible. To be frank, I do feel like this is a form of manipulation. You want to hold power over me by being my employer and having me sign an NDA. You want to keep a close eye on me so that you know what I’m doing, who I’m talking to, and what I’m saying. You do not trust that I will simply not say anything out of my own morality.” 

I saw a ghost of a smile on his face, “You’re smart. You will fit in well. I will have the draft in your mailbox by tomorrow. Goodnight, Miss Y/l/n.”

Before I could say anything, he was out the window and vanished into the night. 

“What the fuck, Hashbrown?” I yelled, scooping her up. “What am I going to do?”

#batman #batfam #batfamily #jason todd #dick grayson #barbara gordon #duke thomas #tim drake #damian wayne #bruce wayne #alfred pennyworth #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #nightwing #red hood #red hood x reader #red hood x you #x reader #female x reader #whump #whumptober 2023 #whump writing #dc comics #dc universe #dc fanfic

[russellsppttemplates]

Let me love on you a little more (Charles Leclerc)

Sometimes, it felt like what you were doing was a drop in the immense ocean, but Charles always made you feel a little better when you had the chance to go home

Note: english is not my first language. I based this on the news and stories I heard from people on the front line! This is in no way romanticising or summing up what happened, much less downplaying it! I hold huge huge respect and gratitude for healthcare workers!

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: Covid-19 pandemic and themes associated with reader being a front line worker as a doctor (mentions hospitals, tests, death)

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog @hiireadstuff @c-losur3

"You can follow the purple line to the testing site we have here", you told the elderly woman.

"Is it going to hurt too much? My neighbour had to get tested to weeks ago when she visited her family and she said it's uncomfortable", she mused.

"It's a little itchy, I have to admit it, but it shouldn't hurt you, just a little bit uncomfortable, Mrs. Loire", you attempted to soothe her, your usual hand on the patients' arm now a strongly inadvisable way to comfort them.

"Thank you, Dr. Y/L/N", he said, her eyes letting you know that behind her mask there was a big smile on appreciation and gratitude.

Taking temperatures and checking flu like symptoms was not how you thought your medical career would pan out once you chose your speciality, but the new normal was this and you were working your best to do what you got into medicine to do in the first place, improve and save lives.

"How many people have you sent to the testing site?", your colleague Marina asked you when she noticed that for now, there were no walk-ins or ambulances with new patients.

"Just this morning, twenty-five", you sighed, "the closest I got to a potential non-Covid case was the kid that broke his arm, but Ortho swooped him right from me".

"Are you truly so disappointed about not being on an Orthopedics case?", she chuckled, "you hated everytime you had to be on that floor", she argued.

"I'd do anything that isn't watching people die because we don't have enough equipment or because we don't know enough about this disease to stop it", you let your frustrations out.

"We're going to win this, Y/N", Marina squeezed your shoulder, "you're usually the hopeful one on the service, but I can hope for the two of us today", she replied earnestly, "I'm going to have lunch now, do you want to go with me and sit on opposite tables so I can at least look at your face without a mask from a distance?".

"Let's go, I'm starving and I'm going up to the ward this afternoon", you raised your eyebrows, tidying up the station for whoever would cover the afternoon shift there.

As you walked to the area you had lunch in, you were happy to find the sun shinning outside on the green park area where you or the patients' family would take them to get fresh air when they were still admitted and recovering. It wasn't a thing now for obvious reasons, so you and Marina ended up in there keeping a safe distance while enjoying the feeling on the sun on your bare skin.

"Do you sometimes feel like you're losing all sense of time in there?", Marina nudged to the big building, "my mother's birthday was yesterday and I thought it was still a month away - she called me to say she had left a piece of cake for me by my door".

"Yesterday, Charles called me and told me he has going to wash my favourite hoodie of his and then wear it around the house so that by the time I came home it was nice and smelling the way I liked it. Then I reasoned with him that it wasn't this weekend because how could it be? Then I realised he was right", you took a spoonful from the tupperware.

"Are you spending the weekend at home?", Marina asked, smiling at how you seemed to finally be taking care of yourself.

You had been one of the doctors who didn't mind staying for longer in the hospital, reasoning that you didn't have kids and fortunately your family members didn't need assistance so you could cover more shifts and work as much to keep everything running smoothly. It caught up with you as it did with all your colleagues so you set specific times in your calendar where you would go home and, barring any catastrophic situation at the hospital, no one would call you for the days you spent home so you could fully relax with Charles.

"Yes, five days at home and then I'm back", you sighed, "and you? How is your little one doing?", you asked.

"My wife texted me an hour into my shift to say that Milo had a Skype call with his class and their teacher and he said his mama was in the hospital being a hero", she gave you a big smile and looked up to control the tears, "it's hard being away from them, but these little moments help", she added.

"Charles does streams with his friends, and apparently he's always mentioning me and the people on the chat have been very supportive - whenever he calls me he tells me that some fans recognise my voice and my name from the virtual appointments and that they've been here and treated by me, too", you blushed, "He's always hyping me up and I can't wait to be with him".

Stopping by the coffee machine, you both got another expresso shot before parting ways since Marina wasn't on the Covid ward for that shift.

"We've just intubated three more patients", the doctor finished her rounding up to you and the rest of the team that would take over for them, "beds five and six aren't looking good and we've alerted their family members already", he nudged.

Everyone knew what it meant when it came to calling the families, so you nodded, "hopefully they'll get here on time, have them page me downstairs when they arrive, please", you asked one of the interns before you excused yourself to put your personal protective equipment on.

"Is that you, Y/N?", one of the younger kids you had treated said as you got out of the room.

"Yes, it's me! You have a good eye, Arlo!", you smiled before noticing nurse Francesca pulling his wheelchair, "are you going home, sweet boy?", you gasped.

Arlo had been the first child you treated in the ward, only having seen adults up until that moment and it changed a switch in you. A small child struggling so much seemed to shake something inside you, and every time you called his parents with updates, you wished that you'd never have to make the dreaded call.

"I am, my lungs are all good and I'm not warm anymore!", he smiled, "I finally get to go home, my parents are downstairs waiting for me. Did you give Charles my thank you hug for the cap?", he asked.

When you noticed the little boy talking about the last Monaco GP and how he hoped one day he would be able to meet his favourite driver, Charles Leclerc, you couldn't find it in you to keep your relationship undisclosed. So, when you went home the last time, you asked Charles to sign one cap for you and told him to be ready for a FaceTime with the little boy. Arlo was the happiest you had seen him since he had been admitted, lighting up when he saw your boyfriend on the screen and giving him a few smiles despite his tired and sick state.

"I haven't been home yet, but I will give him the biggest hug at the end of the week!", you smiled, "I'm so happy for you, Arlo!", you gushed, making the gesture to blow him as kiss as he waved goodbye.

There were good stories, and even though they in no way erased the sad ones, they helped you carry on with the fight.

Laying on the on-call room after your shift, you took off your mask since no one else was allowed inside it other than you, doing your usual routine and setting your phone in the window sill.

"Hey, amour", Charles said on the phone, "how was your day?", he asked as he watched you towell dry your hair.

"Hey, mon coeur", you offered him a small smile, "I'm so tired I can't guarantee I won't fall asleep in a minute".

"It's okay, I won't mind. Did you get tested?", Charles asked as he seemed to be tucking himself to bed as well.

"Yes, another swab up my nose", you flashed him two thumbs up, "I'll have the results in the morning and hopefully I can get out of here for a few days and spend them with you and not quarantine in a hotel room", you crossed your fingers, "I don't have any symptoms, but still, you never know with this bastard".

"We'll spend it together, amour", he comforted, "I already have a lazy couple of days planned out for us", he smiled as you too tucked yourself on the oncall room bed.

"That sounds amazing", you closed your eyes briefly, "I can't wait to be with you", you yawned.

Charles knew better than to start anything important, just happy to see you were resting, safe and sound, making small talk to lull you to sleep before he ended the call.

After attending the virtual meeting so you could update the next team on how the service was running before you left, the results from test came back negative, which meant you could finally drive home.

Unlocking the door, you stepped inside as you heard commotion coming from the living room, "stay away while I put all of this in the cabinet", you warned Charles.

He was quick to go to the bedroom, getting his hoodie and a pair of shorts for you, "as much as I'd love to hold you all day looking like that", your boyfriend nodded to your figure in just underwear, "I think you'll be more cosy in these", he approached you as you finally let him touch you, his arms going around your waist and pulling your bodies closer, "I've missed you so much, Y/N", he whispered.

"I missed you so much, too", you pulled your face away from his chest before kissing his lips in a proper greeting.

Charles guided you to the living room after you got dressed in his clothes, stopping by the kitchen door to check if you had a proper breakfast to which you said yes, so he took you to the sofa, snuggling you two under the blanket as he put one of your favourite shows on the TV.

"I love you, Charles", you would say every now and again, completing the affectionate moments with a kiss or a squeeze.

During the afternoon, you and Charles ended up napping on the sofa, Charles waking up with you still fast asleep on his chest, making him kiss your forehead a couple of times and pull the blanket to cover you up.

"How long was I out for?", you rubbed your eyes two hours later, looking up to see your boyfriend's smile.

"A couple of hours, it looked like a really good nap", he kissed your nose.

"Yes, it was", you squeezed his body, "I'm really craving some carbonara for dinner, do you think we have what the recipe needs?", you questioned.

"We do - I did the food shop earlier this week and I got all of the supplies", he smiled, brushing your hairs away from your eyes and behind your ears, "do you want to get started on it?".

"Yes - I need to pee first, but I'll meet you in the kitchen", you winked, pecking his lips multiple times before getting up.

As he watched you walk to the bathroom, thoughts came flooding in.

This is what he wanted with you. Cosy intimacy that went beyond what happened in the bedroom. The domesticity that went beyond just spending time together and that shines through in the little moments of intertwined routines, special requests and little talks in the middle of the night about random existential questions.

Stepping into the kitchen, Charles gathered the ingredients, pots and pans before you stepped inside too, hugging his waist and nuzzling your face on his back, "you're so comfy, Charlie", you cooed before he turned around so he could face you, cupping your cheeks and rubbing them.

"And you're so gorgeous, mon coeur", he complimented, making you melt inside as you focused on the pads of his thumbs against your skin.

Slicing the guanciale, you removed the rind and cut the rest into small pieces while Charles grated the pecorino cheese and added the egg yolks to the same bowl, the pasta already cooking with the timer on the side.

Scrambling everything into the pot one last time before adding the pasta water a little bit at a time until it was spot on as you liked, making you serve it up in the plates and head back to the sofa.

"Haven't you had enough of the sofa?", you giggled as Charles let you sit before he placed the tray on your lap, doing the same with his own, "I know I haven't had the energy for much else, but maybe tomorrow we can go hike if you'd like", you suggested.

"I want to spend time with you, wherever you are - you're in the sofa, I'm in the sofa, you're in the kitchen, I'm in the kitchen, if you're in the bathroom, I'm in the bathroom", he stated like it was clear as water.

"Maybe not when I'm in the toilet, though, okay?", you squinted as he laughed at your antics.

Charles tidied up after the both of you, sending you to the ensuite bathroom for a bath he'd join you in as soon as he was done.

"You didn't get in?", Charles slumped his shoulders slightly as he saw you sprawled out on the bed.

"I was partially in a food coma, but also - I didn't want to get in alone and the water was a little too hot so I had to let it cool for a bit", you smiled, letting him pull you up and into the bathroom.

Stepping inside the bathroom, Charles grabbed your hips, "let me love on you a little bit more, mon coeur", he said as he pulled you to him, grabbing the hem of the hoodie you were wearing and taking it off of your torso, kissing the skin on your shoulders.

As he stopped his ministrations on your skin, you took the opportunity to take his t-shirt off while you shimmied your shorts and underwear, caressing his muscles before he also took the rest of his clothes off.

"Feels good", Charles dipped his fingers in the tub, getting in himself so he could help you sit between his legs and lay your back on his chest.

Your boyfriend brought his hands together and formed a shell shape with them, collecting water in them and wetting your shoulder blades, then letting it cascade down your neckline, boobs and tummy before he let his hands wander around to feel your body, hoping it would show you his love and appreciation for you.

After you got out, Charles rubbed your products on your face, giggling when you made little faces before you put on pyjamas, tucking into bed and cuddling his chest.

"You know I've missed you so much, but our bed feels heavenly right now", you chuckled, kissing his naked chest, "I love you, Charles", you mumbled before sleep took over you.

"I love you, beautiful girl, sleep tight", he whispered against your hair, kissing the top of your head before he rubbed your back.

Charles was woken up from your body moving a lot and the clammy feeling of your hand on his chest, looking for your face and noticing the crease on your forehead, "hey, amour", he gently shook you awake, "wake up for me, please, it's okay, you're okay", he urged as you opened your eyes wide as you took in where you were.

"I'm home, I'm home", you mumbled, taking deep breaths like Charles encouraged you to once you sat up, doing them with you a couple of times until you calmed down.

"You are, mon coeur, you are", Charles kissed your forehead when you rested your back against the headboard.

After standing there in silence while Charles played with your fingers on your lap, you were able to speak about it, "I hit five this week", you mumbled, "five people who have died on my watch since this thing started, five family members I've had to call to tell them their loved one didn't make it.

"And it's a small number when you compare it to other countries - so many colleagues are already on their one hundredth, but Monaco is so small", you reasoned, "I haven't had a number this high since I started at the hospital - in my regular service, I never lost five people".

"It's not your fault, amour - a virus is out there and you're working so hard to contain it", Charles pulled you to his chest, rubbing your arm up and down and kissing the side of your head, "the work you're doing with the testing site, making sure to slow the spread and ensuring everyone is as healthy as they can be - you're part of that, Y/N, and even though it doesn't seem like it, you're still winning, you're still beating the universe".

"I couldn't do it without you", you mused and Charles' scoff alerted you, "it's true, Charles! I would never be able to stay at the hospital for so long if you weren't supportive, if you weren't helping my parents and making sure they're doing okay when I can't do it! The way you support me and are there for me - the way your holding me like you always do", you snuggled further into him, "this helps me keep going - you do", you kissed his jaw, seeing his blushed cheeks in the dimly lit bedroom.

"We're a good team then", he accepted the compliment, kissing your temple again, "do you think you can go back to sleep or maybe we could have a chat, watch some TV, have a lazy makeout session", he wiggled his eyebrows.

"That last idea sounds great, I've missed that", you rolled over properly, taking his lips in yours as his hands roamed along your tummy.

#charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc x you #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader

[writing-for-marvel]

Triage

[He’s Hazardous To My Health Series]

Paramedic!Bucky Barnes x Resident!Fem!Reader

Series Masterlist | PART 2 > >

Summary: A slightly reckless and exceedingly charming paramedic carries a young girl into your ER, proving that not all superheroes wear capes.

Warnings: strictly 18+ due to the AU, set in an emergency room, I am not a healthcare worker and my medical knowledge is limited to what I’ve seen in Greys Anatomy lol, incident where people are injured from a derailed train, mentions of wounds & surgery & loss of life, injuries to a young child, needles & stitching, my terrible attempt at writing flirty banter

Word count: 3.2k

A/N: based off the winner of this poll, we say hello to paramedic!Bucky ❤️ this is my first entry for the Connect 4: Into an Alternate June-iverse Event by @buckybarnesevents, fulfilling the prompt ‘First Responder AU’. Thank you to @rookthorne who looked this over for me and gave me the confidence to keep writing it 🩵 banners by @vase-of-lilies

Main Masterlist | Ask me anything! | Taglist | Library

“Incoming trauma. Train collided with a car and derailed. First wave ETA three minutes.”

At the moment your director of emergency medicine announces the tragedy and flood of imminently arriving patients, the televisions in the emergency room switch to breaking news - a presenter, wearing a solemn expression, speaks as a split screen shows what you can only describe as a colossal catastrophe.

The ER becomes silent as all eyes focus on the screens, only the rhythmic beeping of the pulse oximeters cut through the silence, a heavy weight blanketing the room as the realisation of what you’re seeing sets in.

You can’t hear what precisely he’s saying, but you can’t bring yourself to look away whilst watching the live chopper vision of smoke billowing from the train laying unnaturally on its side, barely any movement from the scene makes you wonder if anyone could have survived the incident.

The three minutes before the ambulances arrive go by in a flash, feeling like you hardly have time to mentally prepare for the extent of injuries and potential loss of life you will be facing. Then, almost in an instant, as if flicking a switch, chaos in its purest form descends upon the emergency room.

You watch on as paramedics and firefighters wheel patients in on gurneys, one by one filling up the limited trauma beds in the ER. Dr Stephen Strange directs medical personnel, making sure each case is assigned to an appropriate physician, the more serious injuries bypassing trauma intake all together and heading straight towards surgery.

Your eyes land on one man in particular between the sensory overload of people - tall, broad shoulders with long chestnut hair, carrying a young girl with one strong arm as he pushes a gurney with the other. Who you can only assume is the girl's mother, is unconscious and has blood staining the roots of her long blonde hair. Your heart aches for them as she’s handed over to the surgery team in wait, and even though the ER is filled with many conflicting loud voices, you hear the high pitched cry of the young girl for her mommy. The paramedic, now with his second arm free, pulls her into his chest before making his way to one of the trauma beds.

“You!” Dr Strange’s voice pulls your attention back to the fray and you find he’s pointing directly to you - you’ll forgive him for forgetting the name of a new resident during this moment of crisis. “The young girl with Barnes, she’s your responsibility.” That’s all the instruction he has time for before moving onto the next resident.

As you make your way through the maze of people towards the young girl, your mind flashes back to the footage of the wreckage and how grim it appeared. It seems like a miracle that this young girl is conscious and looks relatively unharmed with the exception of a few abrasions.

“I’m the one who brought her in, she’ll be all alone while her mother is in surgery, all I’m asking is to stay with her while she gets examined.” The well-built paramedic, Barnes, argues with your head nurse, pride and admiration swelling warm in your chest - he’s standing up for a scared, young girl who can’t voice what she needs right now.

“That’s perfectly fine.” You cut in, knowing Christine is a stickler for protocol and would never allow non-family members to stay with patients, even in dire circumstances. If there is a time to bend the rules slightly, you figure this is it. “I think she feels a lot more comfortable with you here anyway, isn’t that right sweetie?” The young girl nods her head, little hands reaching out to grab hold of the paramedics’ large one, eyes brimming with frightened tears.

“Thank you.” He mouths as Christine storms off to deal with the many other patients that require her attention. Your focus now switches to the precious girl in front of you - no matter how hectic the ER gets, how devastating the incident is, your thoughts need to be directed solely on her care, and not ogling at the attractive EMT who is currently soothing her.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?” You ask the scared, little girl, but not before offering your own as a sign of good faith. She looks up to Barnes for reassurance before answering.

“Sasha.” She confesses with a small voice, partially hiding her face in the broad paramedic’s arm as she does so.

“Okay Sasha, I’m here to check you over, help patch up these cuts and make sure you have no other injuries so we can get you up to see your mommy as soon as possible. Can I do that for you?” She nods her head, sitting up a little straighter in the bed all the while maintaining a tight hold on Barnes’ hand.

“Can you tell me who your friend here is, Sasha?” You ask as you start your examination, feeling the medics’ pair of eyes watching you intently, something more than just concern for your patient's well-being has heat creeping up your chest to the tips of your ears in silent attraction.

“Bucky. He pulled me from the train.”

“All by himself? Wow, he must be super strong to do that.” You glance up at Bucky to find him staring at you with what you hope is a mixture of captivation and endearment. He offers an enchanting smile, making butterflies, which have no right to exist in an emergency room, flutter in your stomach.

“He also got my mommy too.” Sasha adds, you suspect with the youthful intent to impress you even more.

“As well!” You say in a dramatic tone which makes her beam a proud smile that she did in fact amaze you. “Sasha, I think you got rescued by a real life superhero.” You continue in a staged whisper that not only has Sasha giggling, but brings a flush to Bucky’s cheeks. The bashful blush only makes him more attractive in your eyes.

As you continue your examination, cleaning and bandaging all lacerations, keeping Sasha distracted by asking about her favourite activities and animals, you can progressively feel her opening up and trusting you more. From your experience, it can be difficult to earn a child’s trust when they are in such a foreign place, surrounded by strangers, and in particular in this scenario, when a parent isn’t around. Having Bucky, whom she formed a bond with as soon as he rescued her from the train, stay by her side through the ordeal, has been to both your benefit.

Once you cleaned all her cuts, making sure Bucky held her hands so Sasha could squeeze when the disinfectant caused a sharp, stinging sensation, you begin examining her stomach, prodding her abdomen for any signs of tenderness.

“Does that hurt, Sasha?” You enquire when she flinches and whines at your touch.

“Yes, right there.” You're proud she trusts you enough to admit that, though now concerned about potential internal bleeding. You need to act fast, but you don’t want to instil more fear in her given she’s already had a large dose today.

“Okay, it’s nothing to worry about yet, but I’m going to order you a scan so we can see what’s going on in your tummy.” Your eyes flick instinctively to Bucky, to provide some consolation in a time where you’re both worried about the young girl you’ve both become attached to in such a short time. You see the considerable concern furrowed in his brow soften when his eyes meet yours.

“Will it hurt?” Sasha’s frightened voice breaks your heart - she’s had to endure enough pain and suffering for the day, watching her mother cling to life in an ambulance, you’re desperate not to add to it.

“Not at all, it’s as painless as having your picture taken!” You explain, watching the alarm melt from her features, and feeling the tension in Bucky’s shoulders relax simultaneously. “All you have to do is stay really, really still, can you do that for Bucky and I?” The notion that there is a Bucky and you makes something in your chest buoyant.

“Yes!” She promises without missing a beat and Bucky squeezes her small hands with a relieved smile.

When Sasha’s attention turns to the nurse whose job it is to take her up for the scan, you notice Bucky discretely wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. He says a sweet goodbye before she’s wheeled away, knowing this is where a paramedic and hospital patient part ways. Sasha enthusiastically waves back to both of you as the nurses wheels her away, not stopping until they turn a corner and she’s completely out of sight.

Bucky clears the lump in his throat before stating, “I think it’s my turn to leave now.”

“Don’t think I can’t see you wincing every time you move. Sit your cute butt down, you aren’t going anywhere till I check you over too.” You say as you finish completing the form to refer Sasha for the CT scan, missing the downright cheeky smirk plastered on Bucky's face.

“You think I have a cute butt, huh?” You can hear the smugness in his voice and you have to fight the corners of your mouth from upturning in a smile. He does have a cute butt - not that you’ve been staring - but you’re certainly not admitting that to his gorgeous face.

“Not the point - now, shirt off so I can take a look.” Finishing your paperwork, you finally look up to notice his cocked head and flirty smile. Having studied long hours in med school and worked even longer hours all last year as an intern, you recognise it’s been a while since a stranger has looked at you with this level of desire.

“At least buy me dinner before you ask to see me naked.”

“I’m a doctor, I’m sure it’s nothing I haven’t seen before.” You challenge, even though you’re positive his strapping frame, which fills out his uniform completely, will be even more impressive without a shirt. You have to swallow the saliva forming in your mouth so you quite literally don’t drool at the thought of his unclad body.

“Why don’t we find an on-call room and I can prove to you it’s not.” He teases in a low, alluring voice and you have to bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself smiling like an idiot - it, however, does not stop your face from warming like a heating pad. It’s infuriating how beautiful he is, and it’s definitely criminal to act as cocky as he is right now.

“Only if you let me patch you up first.” You bargain.

Bucky finally concedes, unbuttoning and shrugging off his uniform shirt to reveal a wound in his side about the length of a teaspoon which is still trickling blood. The tightening concern which overwhelms your body at the sight of the gash, which is much worse than you predicted he’d be concealing and will require stitches, distracts you from the allure of seeing his shirtless chest.

You shake your head, knowing he would have been fully aware he was injured since pulling Sasha and her mom from the train, and in an incredible amount of pain, but waited until others received treatment before allowing himself to be tended to.

“You should have told me about this.” Tentatively you place gauze over the cut, gently applying pressure to stop the oozing but not firm enough where he’s in pain. You can feel his attentive eyes following your every careful move, and maybe it’s just your imagination, but you swear you can hear his breath hitch in his throat and feel his thumping heartbeat quicken as your hands graze his bare skin.

“There are many people in need of more urgent care than me.”

You look up at him from your position tending to his abdomen to find his face intimately close to yours. You can’t help yourself, being this close to him, but your eyes flicker to his lips, noticing a faint scar along his top lip you could only perceive by being this close.

“That doesn’t mean you don’t deserve it at all.”

Bucky gazes deeply into your eyes with a vulnerability which makes you doubt whether anyone has ever appraised him that he is worth taking care of. The thought feels like a punch to your gut.

“It’s relatively superficial, I can look after it myself.” He attempts to brush you off. If this weren’t your first time meeting the guy, and you didn’t feel like you were overstepping by protesting, you wouldn’t let him dismiss you so easily. “Can’t you overlook protocol this one time and give me the okay to get back out in the field? We are still looking through the wreckage for survivors, need all hands on deck” He flashes you wide, puppy dog eyes which have you melting at the knees. You suspect this isn’t the first time he’s used this ploy to get what he wants.

As if he can sense your resolve dissolving the longer you look in his mesmerising eyes, he starts to stand. But no, you aren’t going to let those ocean blues and infectious smile stop you from doing your job, and showing Bucky that his well-being is just as important as anyone else who came into the ER today. Placing your hands on his bare, broad shoulders, you push him back down onto the bed.

“You won’t be able to help anyone when you’re back in here with sepsis because this wound got infected.” You comment as you prepare the suture kit and implements you’ll need to first clean out the wound.

“At least that way I’d be able to see you again.” He jests, before sharp intake of breath as you begin disinfecting and debriding the laceration.

Even though you realise he’s joking, hopefully only about not taking care of his wound properly and not about wanting to see you again, you suspect there’s a small sliver of truth he’s hiding. There typically is a grain of truth in every joke - he seriously would have returned to the scene without receiving treatment if you hadn’t stopped him, twice.

“You don’t need the excuse of a life threatening illness to see me again. In fact, I would prefer it that way.”

Bucky eyes you with fondness as you finish up washing out his wound, even through the sharp sting and you expressing your disapproval of his careless actions. You’re not sure what you’ve done to deserve the warmth in his gaze, but you enjoy it nonetheless.

Once the area is numbed, you can instantly sense the ease which overcomes Bucky at no longer being in discomfort. Though the grunts and groans that slipped past his lips were rather sexy, you much rather seeing him in an absence of pain.

The two of you stay in comfortable silence as you lend all your attention to the placement and execution of each stitch, knowing that if you do a good enough job, a wound this size will heal to an almost imperceptible scar. Though it’s difficult, you restrain your focus from how the taut muscles of his stomach flex as you're working.

“Alright, almost good as new.” Is what you comment once you’ve thrown the last stitch and placed a bandage over the area. “You’re ready to get back to being a real life superhero.” You tease, knowing the effect the word had on him last time. You’re pleased to see that same blush bloom lightly over his high cheekbones.

“Thanks for lookin’ after me, doc.” Bucky shows his gratitude with a lopsided smile you could get so used to basking in. As he buttons up his shirt, you allow your eyes to linger on his clearly defined abs for a second before they’re covered over. He really has no right to be as gorgeous and charming as he is. “And for being such a bright light in what has otherwise been a very dark day.”

“Same to you, Bucky.” Guilt eats away at a small part of you that during what is for a lot of people in this hospital such a tragic day, you’ve instead actually enjoyed the company of a cheeky paramedic.

“Take care of Sasha for me, won’t you?”

“She’s in the best hands.”

“I don’t doubt that for a minute.” He says with a tone which makes you think he’s only referring to you, when you were in fact meaning the entire hospital staff. Your heart flutters at the implication.

When neither of you say anything more, silence lingering for an almost awkward length, Bucky turns to leave. Even though you know you eventually must part ways, your heart aches that the end has seemingly come so soon. Luckily, you have a reason to call him back and spend an extra moment together.

“Hang on, you need to sign a release form before you’re allowed to go.” You say, hand brushing his as you provide a clipboard and pen, a shiver running up your arm which you hope Bucky doesn’t notice. If he does, he doesn’t mention it as instead he quickly surveils the document and chuckles.

“If you wanted my phone number, all you had to do was ask.” Damn him and that cheeky, smug grin you’re already falling for.

“This is purely protocol.” You counter, wanting to take his cocky persona down a peg. Bucky simply smirks, as if he can easily see through your half-truth like glass.

“So you’re telling me you don’t want my number?” He challenges, and though you don’t want to admit he’s won this back and forth between the two of you, you’ll consider yourself a winner as long as you come away with a means of contacting him after today.

“I didn’t say that.”

He hands you back the clipboard, a corner of the sheet torn off with his number scribbled specifically for you to take. You try not to look too desperate by taking the note immediately and putting it in your pocket as you plan on doing as soon as he isn’t watching you.

“The next time I see you, I hope we won’t be in an emergency room.” The suggestion there will be a next time makes giddiness rise in your chest as if you’re a schoolgirl with a crush.

“Don’t count your luck, James.” You tease, having spied his true first name on his patient form. “I haven’t called yet.” You try to sound calm, even though you can feel your heartbeat quickening the longer those captivating blue eyes regard your every move.

“I have a feeling you will, even if it is just to tell me Sasha’s pulled through alright,” Bucky pauses, slowly leaning in so you have a perfect view of his exquisite eyes, and his dilated pupils, as he lowers his voice. “Or for a rain check on that on-call room rendezvous.” He calls your bluff before flashing what you’re now sure is his signature smirk, leaving you with a fluttering heart and butterflies in your stomach.

As you watch Bucky walk out the exit of the ER, turning to shoot you a wink before the door closes behind him, you know three things for certain: firstly, you’ll definitely call him tomorrow, secondly, this man is going to utterly ruin you, and finally, you’re going to let him.

Part 2 > >

Be added to the series taglist here

#em writes #Bucky Barnes #bucky #Connect4AU #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes oneshot #Bucky Barnes fic #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes fluff #paramedic!bucky Barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky fanfic #sebastian stan characters #Sebastian Stan

[talkethtothehandeth]

If you’re a healthcare worker or your friends or a family member or whoever whatever to one, I do not trust you perspective about patient welfare. Mask mandates have lifted in the hospital/clinic settings. Many, many sick people and infected but asymptomatic cycle through those doors daily, and each of those people see other people who see other people.

I have to go back to the doctors in June to check to see if my body is still trying to kill me, and this is after not only that entire fucking year, but also those worst months in the fall— I have to go back after the mask mandate was lifted in my clinic.

I have to go in there and see the nurses and doctors who decided to stop masking. I won’t know if the nurse touching me has touched someone else who has COVID, or became infected by an asymptomatic patient that they saw prior to me.

I’m genuinely so scared to see if my doctor decided to work without a mask. She’s the best doctor I’ve had so far (and that’s saying a fucking lot), and I don’t know how to sit in the same room if someone who was wanting me to not die last year is not wearing that n95 anymore. I don’t know how to look at her and not see a betrayal yet again, a blatant showing of someone’s refusal to care about disabled patients, disabled people.

My immune system is shit, and I cannot afford to get it. I caught a simple cold after five years of not getting taken down by a virus all because of my body being too weak to fight back. My fiancée and I have managed to be extremely cautious over the years, and I’m so fucking thankful I have not caught it because this would ruin my entire life, and could possibly end it.

Does anyone know a good therapist for medical trauma 💀

#personal #long covid #COVID #I really really fucking hope she wears a mask please Laura #disabled #cripple punk #chronic pain #chronic illness #scoliosis #arthritis #ehlers danlos syndrome #chronically ill #gi issues #undiagnosed #cpunk

[drdemonprince]

Hello! You have opened a fascinating door into kink communities I didn't even know existed. Thanks for that. I was describing some of your steamworks adventures to my partner, who works as a Disease Intervention Specialist (aka DIS, a government healthcare worker who administers free/low-cost STD testing and then attempts to track down and notify+test the recent sexual partners of any infected individuals). (He brings some INSANE stories home from work and gets to give sex ed talks at the local Christian college using a model penis that actually ejaculates--but I digress.) He was horrified by the hypothetical situation where an infected person could have blindfolded sex with an unknown number of nameless strangers. It's hard enough trying to track down partners when the patient only knew them by their Grindr username. How do you have safe sex in these situations? Some STDs can be transmitted via skin-to-skin contact even with a condom. Do venues like steamworks enforce any rules around testing/protection/etc.?

If your partner is 'horrified' by the actual sex lives of the populations he ostensibly serves I think he needs to read more from harm reductionist thinkers and queer activists from a variety of past eras and work on processing his feelings of judgement to ensure it doesn't impact his actions in that line of work.

The books and Melancholia and Moralism, Saving Our Own Lives, and Beyond Shame: Reclaiming the Abandoned History of Radical Gay Sexuality are good places to start.

If you're having anonymous or blindfolded sex in cruising spaces, one route of managing risks is to assume that every person there could be infected with STIs you do not have and to plan accordingly. Vaccines, condoms, PreP, testing, and education are just some of the tools at one's disposal, and one should always be cognizant of the risks that one is consenting to. Steamworks has sexual health educators and testers present within their space regularly, but they don't gatekeep based on serostatus, health status, drug regimen or use of protection -- doing so wouldn't be feasible and would be problematic on multiple grounds.

I don't believe the goal of a public health initiative or a life well lived is to eliminate all risk, or to regard the presence of any infection in any human body as unacceptable, but rather to empower people to make informed decisions about the level of risk they are comfortable confronting, or that is worth the numerous benefits to them.

Personally, I was in far greater danger when I didn't have access to such spaces. Cruising spaces make negotiating sexual consent far safer than privately dating and hooking up with someone, and Steamworks are vitally important queer community spaces, and for me are well worth the trade off. No one should have any illusions about this ever being an experience that they can eliminate all risk from, rather they should anticipate it and plan for it.

I think "safe sex" is an unhelpful framework to pursue because it is so binary and can't ever be guaranteed. What does safety mean? Which types of exposures do we consider to be "unsafe"? Am I unsafe if I encounter another person who, like me, has had a cold sore before, like 80% of the population? Or someone who has a strain of HPV I am vaccinated against? What about if I have an encounter with somebody with a cold? I'm "safer" being fucked by an HIV positive person who is undetectable and wearing a condom than I am having barrier free sex with a long term partner who cheats. I can't even know I'm taking a risk in the latter case; at Steamworks, I'm assuming my risk level to be on the high end and planning accordingly.

I understand that testing and tracing are important parts of public health for our populations. It was vitally important when monkeypox broke out. Maybe Steamworks should collect member emails and alert them if there was a reported transmission on a night that they visited. Though even then, there are some negative public health implications to dozens of people panicking. But there is no means of eliminating all risk entirely or tracing all human sexual behavior and I would be myself pretty horrified if there was.

[akaratna]

02/27/2024: THE BILL HAS NOT PASSED THE SENATE YET. BUT IT IS COMING TO VOTE WITHIN THE NEXT FEW DAYS.

CONTACT YOUR SENATORS TO DEMAND THEY VOTE NO ON THIS BILL.

CONTACT YOUR REPRESENTATIVE ALSO AS IT WILL GO TO THE HOUSE NEXT

CALL SCRIPT:

My name is __________. I am a constituent, and my zip code is _______. .

To your Senators :

I’m urging you to vote no on Senate Bill 1409. This is yet another attempt to shove censorship and surveillance down our throats “for the children” and I’m urging you not to fall for this LIE. Thank you.

To your Representative:

I’m asking you to please vote no on Senate Bill 1409 if it passes the Senate. This is yet another attempt to shove censorship and surveillance down our throats “for the children” and I’m asking you not to fall for this lie. Thank you.

Background

We all benefit when we can all access the public square and speak our minds freely, even—maybe especially—about sensitive topics and traumatic experiences. We need to be able to discuss these things, not just as cold abstractions but as personal experiences, to do the work of reducing the amount of harm in the world.

From time to time, lawmakers—well-intentioned or otherwise—try to take away our access to the public square, our right to speak freely in it, or both, often in the name of “protecting our children” from some of those harms. But we cannot repair or prevent those harms if we cannot discuss them.

The latest attempt is S.1409, deceptively named the “Kids Online Safety Act”. This one leverages anger at Big Tech over social media moderation decisions as an excuse to force harmful blanket policies on all Americans.

KOSA is one of the Electronic Frontier Foundation’s “Bad Internet Bills” for two main reasons:

KOSA would require you to show papers to use the internet

KOSA would require messaging services (think iMessage, Signal, or WhatsApp) and social media websites to try to shield the eyes of minors against certain topics. It’s likely that these services would comply with these requirements by forcing users to provide proof of age.

Realistically, this means forcing people to prove their identity to every service they sign up for.

The age requirements affect everyone. If this bill passes, you will have to submit to some sort of identity verification to prove your identity and thus your age every time you sign up on a new service. You will always have to do this, over and over again, for the rest of your life.

How that verification works is not specified. It might be one of the sketchy automatic-verification services like the one the IRS almost used, or they might simply ask you to upload some form of identity documentation. Tough luck if you’re undocumented, a victim of identity theft, transgender, or actually underage. Even if you’re none of those things, you will still have lost your anonymity—your identity is only one successful subpoena or data breach away from being in the wrong hands.

There are very real hazards that come from pairing identity verification with private or anonymous communications. At a time when healthcare decisions like abortion or gender-affirming care are being criminalized in some states, and workers are forming unions and facing unfair labor practices, and activists like us are holding government accountable, we must recognize the importance of protecting the right to speak privately or anonymously whenever we want or need to.

You have the right to speak anonymously, and the right to choose what you disclose and what you keep private. We must protect these rights.

KOSA would require messaging services and social media companies to censor you

Currently, you are legally responsible for what you say online—not the companies who own the services you say it on.

This is thanks to a law from the 1990s known as “Section 230” (specifically, Section 230 of the Communications Decency Act of 1996). Law professor and author Jeff Kosseff called Section 230 “The Twenty-Six Words That Created the Internet” in his book by that title, recounting the history of conflicts between the First Amendment (and its broad protections of speech) and the harms that can be done with speech, and the development of the Act in that context. Kosseff argues that the internet as we know it today, as a public square where anyone can participate, was created because Section 230’s protections enabled freedom to flourish.

KOSA threatens to undermine those protections by obligating companies to intervene when people talk about certain topics on their platforms. This would create, in effect, a censorship regime—if you’ve ever seen the lengths TikTok users go to in order to try to exercise their free-speech rights without saying things that will get them suspended, you’ve seen what this looks like in action. KOSA would make it legally mandatory on all messaging services and all social media.

No good would come out of forcing these companies to insert themselves into our conversations.

The minute a system exists that tries to decide what people can and can’t say—on the internet or otherwise—that system begins chilling speech. If this bill passes, you will have to think about what you are and are not willing to discuss with others, even in private via instant-messengers, much less in the public square via social media.

You will choose to refrain from talking about some things—your speech will have been chilled. When you do choose to talk about some things, you will have to contort your speech to evade censorship.

And there will always be false positives and false negatives. People who didn’t fall afoul of the law will get censored anyway because the system made a mistake. People who did say something on the proscribed list may get lucky—until they don’t.

This affects all communications, public and private

It’s bad enough to censor people’s public discussions on social media and limit who can contribute to such discussions. It’s even worse to censor people’s private communications via iMessage, WhatsApp, and other messaging services.

You have the right to have private conversations without anybody sticking their nose in, no matter who you are or what you’re talking about.

Beware of simple “solutions”

People are complicated and that makes the rights and responsibilities of speech complicated. There are no simple answers.

Speech can cause harm. The classical example of speech not protected by the First Amendment is shouting “fire!” in a crowded theater—that is, causing a panic, a stampede, injuries, possibly deaths. The fact that the cause of the panic was an act of speech does not shield the speaker from responsibility for the harms that act caused. For a more recent example, consider Trump’s lies about the 2020 election before, during, and after it, by which he fomented an insurrection on January 6, 2021, for which he has been criminally indicted. The First Amendment protects his right to lie, but does not give him a right to start an insurrection.

Speech can also do great good. People have the right to cry out for help, or to speak about injustice. We can work together to solve problems—if we can talk about those problems in the first place.

KOSA is promoted as a simple solution to complex harms. As such, we can recognize that it is a false solution that would do more harm than good. We must protect our right to participate fully and frankly, in both public discourse and private conversation, against this sort of attack.

The EFF is right: This is a bad internet bill

This bill would, in effect, force instant-messaging services and social-media services to begin dossiers on their users and impose a censorship regime. This will not solve any problems; it will only take away our right to use the internet to speak freely.

In spite of these dangers, the bill has the bipartisan support of 43 senators. It wouldn’t take many more for it to have a real chance at passing the Senate. The time to stop it is now.

References

S.1409, Kids Online Safety Act (118th Congress)

“The Kids Online Safety Act is Still A Huge Danger to Our Rights Online”, Electronic Frontier Foundation, 5/2/2023

#KOSA #censorship #surveillance #bad internet bill #stop kosa #forced ID

[chickenparm]

doctor's note (Wriothesley/dfab!Reader)

banner by @lemonemlyn my sweet..... :^) you can see the full piece here!

AO3 Link

Wriothesley/Reader (afab genitals, no mentions of breasts) 2,170 Words - NSFW (Mild blood kink, P in V, semi-public in that someone could walk on in, Reader's a bit of a freak)

---

If you liked the Duke any less, this job would be significantly worse than it already is. 

Long hours, untraditional pay, low vitamin D levels… Sure, you're allowed to leave, but then that comes with the caveat of being unable to return unless it's in handcuffs. 

Maybe the Duke's handcuffs…

Sharply, you shake your head. No matter how many times you've done it, stitches still need at least some focus to keep them straight and even. Not to mention the patient has been chatting at you the entire time. You've done six without realizing it. They’re a little uneven, but seem fine to the untrained eye. They’ll do. 

“Don’t move your arm too much, no heavy lifting. Do you need a note for the supervisors? You’ll be out of the coupons for whatever days you take off, but they won’t be able to use the absence against you during duty assignment.” You say, gathering your tools and carefully disposing of the sharps in the special little container that Sigewinne had recently provided. 

Again, the patient says something or other, but even after trying to shake yourself free of your thoughts, somehow they wander back to the other day when you’d seen the Duke walk by and his coat has shifted just enough so you could get a nice eyeful of his-

“Give me a moment and I’ll get the note written up for you.”

You bite down hard enough on your tongue that you’re almost certain you’ll have to give yourself the same half-assed stitch job you just gave this foundry worker. Thankfully, he doesn’t bat an eye as you finish cleaning up and disposing of your gloves, then move to the desk to write out the same familiar, rehearsed lines detailing how long he could use it for. 

The patient thanks you profusely, secretly tucking a few credit coupons into your palm as he takes the note. Healthcare is free down here in the Fortress, but some remnant of the overworld lingers in everyone and they feel some need to compensate you for your service. 

Your pay comes out of the Fortress’ coffers, but that doesn’t stop you from pocketing them with a smile and a wave for him to get a move on. The next shift will be starting, and he’ll be expected to report there if he knows what’s good for him. 

And then it’s quiet once more. 

Or as quiet as Meropide can be. The production zone is always a faint noise in the distance during working hours, a constant clang-clang-clang of forged gears, consistent enough that it lets you fall into a rhythm of cleaning used tools, restocking supplies, looking over paperwork that’s filled with Sigewinne’s little doodles in the corner. Is that supposed to be the Duke…?

“Keeping busy?”

No, that’s the Duke. 

You spin and nearly knock over the lantern on the table, blindly reaching to grab it before it can topple to the floor. At the bottom of the steps is the Duke, one hand wrapped around the railing while the other is pressed to his cheek. For a moment, he looks just as bewildered as you before he swiftly regains his bearings and pulls his hand away from his face. 

Tacky threads of red stretch and snap across the short distance, and you realize that he’s bleeding. Again. For the third time this week. 

Making a sound behind your teeth with your tongue, you cross the room to reach for his elbow and guide him to the bed that hasn’t been used yet today. The sheets are fresh enough to not smell like anything at all - almost the best you can get in Meropide. With any luck, by the time he’s finished here, they’ll be inundated with the smell of spices and black tea. 

And if you’re quick enough, Sigewinne won’t even notice you’ve swapped the bedding out to be ferretted back to your quarters. 

“What was it this time, your grace? Pankration ring? Breaking up a brawl over who got a better meal from the cafeteria?” You ask, pulling his hand away and gently grasping his chin to turn his head so you can see better in the light. With the light hitting its sharp angle, his jaw works back and forth for a moment before he shakes his head minutely. 

And when you don’t say anything to encourage him to be a little more forthcoming, he finally says, “Do you think I should do something about the top shelving in my office? Seems a bit weak…”

“You didn’t.” You murmur in quiet disbelief, letting your hand slip a little from his chin. His clean hand grasps at your wrist as if to keep you there. “A book…?”

“One of the old accounting ledgers. With the metal binding.”

Another sound of disappointment behind your teeth as you take better note of his injury. It’s a clean one, all things considered. Shouldn’t need stitches, just a disinfecting and a bandage, you think. But something feels tense in the air, and your fingers slip from his chin as you try to diffuse it with, “I think I’ll need Sigewinne for this one, it looks bad. She’ll mix up some medicine for you to down-”

“Leave me to die.”

It’s delivered with such a straight tone that you’re caught off guard. A snort of amusement leaves you, and your hand raises to cover your mouth. Wriothesley isn’t quick enough to grab your wrist again before you leave a few oval smears of his blood on your cheek, thoughtless of the hand you were using. 

Wriothesley’s hand is smudged with his blood as well, leaving little streaks on your wrist as he looks up at you from his seated position. Your weight shifts to your other foot, your knee brushes his, somehow you gravitate closer. Tea and spices and dull iron seeps into your senses, and for a moment you forget where you are, what you’re doing, and all that attention is shifted to who you’re with. 

Wriothesley, Duke of Meropide, His Grace. His jaw tweaks again, the light catches the smallest rivulet of blood welling up in the bright red of his injury. The smears on your skin are rapidly cooling, and Wriothesley is so warm. 

His tongue darts out, just for a moment, wetting his lip and catching the smallest bit of blood at the corner of his mouth. How does that flavor stack up against his tea, you wonder? Would he let you try? He’s never been a selfish man before now. 

A low murmur leaves him, just barely forming the syllables of your name. If you were any weaker, you’d have dipped down to take what you have your eyes on - that flash of pink from his tongue, the burnt red, the warmth of his skin, everything and anything you could get your hands on before he banished you away. 

But for all the things you want to take, something should be given in exchange. You don’t even get to make the offer before Wriothesley proves you very wrong. He can be selfish. It’s in the way his bloodied hand wraps around the back of your neck to pull you close, in the way his tongue pushes into your mouth and you’re treated to the taste he’d been savoring only a mere moment before. 

Wriothesley takes everything down to the very sound of surprise that leaves your throat, his neck bobbing as he all but swallows it and exchanges for one of his own. The bead of blood on his jaw is smeared by your thumb as you grasp and push, enticing more as he hisses between each movement of his mouth on yours. 

But then he grips harder against the nape of your neck, tugs at the front of your shirt until your balance is lost and you’re all but perched in his lap. Wriothesley accepts you with open arms, all but suffocating you with his scent, his breath across your cheek, his lips moving along your jaw and smearing your face further with the mess. 

His skin is a pretty canvas for the stark red that turns darker as it cools and hardens and flakes away. Maybe yours is pretty as well, with how he sucks marks into your neck and digs his teeth in hard enough that little crescent shapes will show what you did here today. 

Dirtied fingers weave into his hair and tug, and he groans against your skin before bucking his hips upward, grinding against you in a desperate bid for some kind of friction, some sort of reciprocity for you drawing that sound out of him. You’re a little selfish too, but he keeps sweetening the deal. In return, you press harder down against him, roll your hips until he detaches from your skin with a breathless sound of appreciation. 

“Mmh… -time? What time is it?” Each syllable drags his teeth against your skin, and you have trouble comprehending anything at all until you’re able to piece some semblance of rationality together. 

It’s threaded like beads on a string, loose and spaced out, but you gather enough of yourself to answer, “Thirty to twelve-”

“An hour, perfect.”

And then the bed groans and its springs squeal as you’re tossed down, trapped in by long limbs and a thick coat that cuts off the surrounding world. Wriothesley lavishes attention on your neck, your collarbone, his fingers working at buttons and clasps steadily. There’s more than enough time for you to dispute any of this, to mention that there isn’t really a door on the infirmary and anyone could walk in. 

But you don’t, because nothing quite matters to you as much as this does. You don’t get paid enough to care otherwise. 

Wriothesley pulls back, looks down at you as your gaze travels downward between you. A quiet laugh precedes, “Eyes up here. Don’t you think you’ve ogled me enough lately?”

Despite lying down, you’re not going to just take that accusation that way, so you shoot back, “Maybe if you didn’t make it so easy.”

“Cute. You think I just sit around in my office thinking of ways to be your eye candy?” He asks, hooking a hand beneath your knee and hitching it up to his waist, opening you enough that you can feel him against you. Hot, heavy, a pulse that might be his, might be yours. 

And when you don’t answer, his laughter curls beneath your jaw, up around your ear as he leans in, “You’d be right, you know. Now look me in the eye… there you go.” And as if to emphasize himself further, he rocks forward, sliding into you with one, two, three little thrusts before he can bottom out. Before the sharp buckle of his belt digs into your stomach. Before you’re treated to the pretty sight of his eyes unfocusing, just for a moment. 

And you don’t miss a second of it, even as your legs tighten around his hips and your mind grows fuzzy and thick. The Duke had made a simple request, and you’d be damned if you broke away from his gaze to even blink.

Wriothesley leans closer, drowns you once again in a thousand sensations from sight to scent to the incredibly full feeling of his cock driving into you with startling precision. Hour or no, Wriothesley fucks you like he’s only got moments remaining on his lifespan. Like his own thoughts have been just as consumed by you as yours have been with him. 

Your eyes roll, his fingers curl around your chin, another murmured, “Eyes on me,” and when you comply, his thumb drags along your bottom lip. Instinctively, you open, letting him press the pad into your tastebuds and you’re given the metallic taste once more. 

His thumb - cleaned, slick with your spit - slips out of your line of sight to press against you. The timing of his thrusts match the circling of his thumb, pushing and pushing and pushing at you until your cheek stings with how you bite down to hide your sounds of approval. No door, you remind yourself with dreamy thoughts. It barely holds substance in the wake of his smile almost turning into a grin. 

It grows wobbly, the world growing less interesting to look at in the wake of his relentless pursuit of your release. Despite how much you’d like to drag this out, Wriothesley doesn’t seem interested in wasting any time on keeping you fucked open. Just for the moment, just long enough for you to dig into the sheets and a sound that’s near painful with how you fail to stifle it. Only long enough to leave darkness at the edge of your vision, and a warmth seeping out as he pulls away and presses another bloodied kiss to your lips. 

Another kiss to the corner of your mouth, his tongue dragging along the skin of your cheek, his words heavy against your ear, “You gonna steal these sheets, too?”

#mind the a/n for content tags #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #wriothesley #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley/reader #genshin #genshin impact #mdni #tw blood

[a-dinosaur-a-day]

Former pet care industry worker here, you're right about the bird thing. Oh my Gods you're right. This is honestly a big problem in general when it comes to moral panic in the pet care industry, some information gets passed around without nuance and all of the sudden people are making major decisions that actually negatively affect the healthcare of their animals without considering the care that their individual pet needs.

When I worked at a petstore, bird owners were always the most defensive and self immolating about their animal husbandry, no matter how good it was. It was like they always had to tell me how well cared for their bird, like I'd judge them if they didn't prove they were an amazing bird owner.

Someone would always inherit a large parrot, give it the best care possible and then lament to me- "I feel bad he's not in the Amazon, I wouldn't have bought him, I don't think keeping him is right"

And like bestie your bird would not feel at home there, you've already told me all about how he loves when you put on Scooby Doo and sing the song with him, he's at home nowhere else. In the picture you showed me, his feathers look great, his eyes are bright and clear. Enjoy the life you have with him! If he's happy and healthy it doesn't matter!

I must have had a tons of different versions of that chat with parrot owners it's crazy.

THANK YOU

The moral panic about parrot ownership is DAMAGING and it needs to mcfucking STOP

I try to not talk about my birds like this because I KNOW they are happier with me than they would ever be in the wild.

This is Ellie. She was abandoned by her first owners and was left on the streets of Milwaukee for months, before being found and brought to a shelter, before we could bring her home. She went from constantly chewing on her feathers and feet and being anxious all the time and biting everything, to slowly trusting us and our surroundings. Now she has the healthiest, softest feathers; the most brilliant and curious mind; and just a wonderful enthusiasm that infects everyone who meets her with happiness.

Can you really tell me that bird would be better in South America, away from her flock (me, my spouse, our other birds)?

You can't.

Yes, there are many people who don't treat birds seriously and see them as barely alive, and they should not have parrots.

But that doesn't mean no one should. And that rhetoric - that no one should - needs to stop, before shelters around the world just collapse under their own weight.

Anyways, I get to go home from work now. Can't wait to see my five tiny dinosaurs

#birds #dinosaurs #parrot shelter crisis #shelter crisis #parrots #ellie the bird

[merrysithmas]

cant given SNW enough props for once showing an accurate representation of a doctor & nurse, their individual strengths/academic specialities and talents, their mutual scientific prowess, their collegial relationship, the dynamic of trust, the dynamic of mutual respect, the ease with which they share medical responsibility (there is no "hierarchy" it is a partnership), & depicting what I can only describe as a jarring allegory to our earthly "war" against Covid that healthcare workers today suffer extreme PTSD from while coupling it with the further challenge of learning to coexist with people who merrily killed elderly people, children, and others for their anti masker, anti vaxxer ideals - while healthcare workers suffered extreme mental duress to fight a war people gladly forget or even ignore when the plain fact that the reason we globally overcame Covid at all is because frontliners (and scientists and supporters) fought for the right thing and yes, "came home different".

it's like a modern frontline doctor and nurse having to sit down to a dinner with Ron DeSantis or any other anti science psychopath and being expected to fucking swallow it.

bravo

& props to the actors for M'Benga and Christine, thank you.

#strange new worlds #christine chapel #joseph m'benga #star trek #nurse chapel #dr m'benga #the moral complexity of the healing arts during a war was very well described

[arctrooper69]

🎊 Congratulations on the milestone!! 🎊

Your writing sparks so much joy, you deserve every single follower (and the many more yet to come!) 😄

I'd like to drop a request for Kix (beloved..), from the hurt/comfort prompts:

"How long did you think you could hide that?" + "I'm sorry you had to see me like that."

And if I may be so bold, reader is the one chastising him? 👀

Thank you so so much for your love and encouragement ❤️❤️❤️ I'm so sorry it's taken me so long to write this! I realize it's been in my inbox for several months now but here it is! I hope you enjoy!

ALSO... I loved this prompt so much and had a similar idea for an OC of mine, so there will be a Kix x OC version of this as well!

Prompt #20: "How long did you think you could hide that?"

Prompt #26: "I'm sorry you had to see me like that."

Beta-read by the amazing @staycalmandhugaclone

--------------------------------------------------

Busy, Busy

Kix is stubborn. He's ways taken care of everybody else. Maybe it's time you took care of him.

Warnings: Mentions of sickness and injury.

--------------------------------------------------

The med bay on the Resolute was quiet for once - not that Kix would ever say that aloud. He didn't want to jinx anything. Every healthcare worker knew that once that Q-word was uttered, all hell would be soon to break loose - a silly superstition, but one that had been proven true time and time again. Kix, however, did not have time to prove or disprove anything like that. He was just glad that none of his co-workers were here to tell him off for being so careless. Especially you.

He must've been allergic to something down on the planet they'd just been on. It was stupid, really - clones weren't supposed to get sick or have allergies.

I'm supposed to be better than this. Kix thought miserably. Yet here he was - snivelling like a child, sinuses so clogged that it felt like his head was in a bubble, and he was so damn tired.

Kriff... if it wasn't for this karking brain fog, maybe he wouldn't have slipped off the loading dock like that - landing on his side among boxes of medical supplies that he just now finished cleaning up.

The med-droid on duty stood quietly in the corner, ready to be turned on should an emergency arise but Kix quickly passed it by, opting to take care of himself in secret.

He groaned quietly, holding his side as he reached for the bacta at the back of the cold-storage unit. He grimaced, gingerly palpating his side with practiced fingers. Nothing felt broken, that was good. Just bruised. Nothing he could really do for bruised ribs. Maybe that was for the best. Kix still had a lot of work to do - reports to file, miles of inventory to catalog, and two med-droids to repair. Just some bacta for the pain and stiffness and maybe a stim for good measure - that would keep him afloat long enough to get all this shit together. Kix was short staffed, very short staffed. You had just finished up a triple, going on quadruple shift when he'd ordered you to get some rest.

"Makes no sense having a sleep deprived medic on the field, not to mention how dangerous that is," he'd scolded, now internally wincing at his own hypocritical actions just hours later.

But you're a clone. You can take a lot more than any nat-born. He nodded to himself, scrambling to find any justification for his actions.

"Alright," he grumbled, "quit stalling, Kix. You've got work to do. Then you can sleep."

He settled down in the small office behind the medbay, bacta on his ribs, a stim in his system, and a large cup of caf in hand - not the best combination, but it would work for the time being.

***

It seemed like only minutes had passed when the door slid open with a hiss. Kriff. He knew it was you despite the boxes of medical supplies that blocked his view and the stacks of datapads littering his desk. He sighed, rubbing a hand down his face, and stood up. He gripped the edge of the desk as a wave of vertigo nearly brought him to his knees.

"Hey, I'm sorry," he grunted out, surprising himself with the way the rough edges of his voice seemed to grate against the dryness of his throat. "I lost track of time."

He heard you shift and lean against the doorway. "That's alright. I figured that's what happened." The tone of your voice did not match the carefree understanding conveyed by your words.

You knew something was wrong.

Kix winced quietly as he eased himself back into his chair. Staying seated and unmoving was the best way for his side to heal up on its own. It was better for you not to see him. Until he could finish these reports, it was better he keep to himself.

"You wanna join me for breakfast?"

Breakfast!? It couldn't be time for breakfast yet. Maybe you'd just woken up early. Very early.

"Kix?" Your voice startled him from his thought-drifting fatigue.

"Huh?"

"I asked you if you wanted to join me for breakfast."

This time the worry in your voice was apparent and Kix felt his heart sink. The last thing he wanted to do was worry you.

"I'm really busy. Another time maybe."

"Kix...

"Your shift doesn't start for another three hours. You shouldn't be here." He snapped.

"Uhh...actually it starts in half an hour," you responded slowly. "Yours on the other hand, was supposed to be over like six hours ago. What are you still doing here?" The question was laced with the same sharpness he'd just directed towards you.

"Quinn called out. Their kid is sick." He spoke of the civilian contractor they'd been assigned.

The black and gold zabrak made a great medtech but, between various other assignments and six children, their appearances in his medbay were few and far between.

"So... you're going on four shifts in a row now?"

Kix grunted. He wished you would stop asking him questions. Talking made his throat feel as though he'd swallowed the general's lighsaber. "I'm fine."

"When was the last time you ate? Or slept!?"

He shrugged absentmindedly, concentrating on the datapad in front of him when it was suddenly snatched from his hand.

"Hey!" His head snapped up, glaring at his fellow medic who met it with an equally annoyed fire in her eyes.

"Give it back!" Kix made a grab for it but was suddenly and painfully reminded of his aching ribs. He collapsed back down into his chair with a defeated hiss of pain at the way the muscles balked at the tension. The movement took his breath away for a moment.

"Kix!" Your surprised cry pounded through his head as you dropped to your knees beside him, eyes widening as you thoroughly surveyed him for the first time since stepping into the room.

"Oh Kix..." you shook your head, reaching for a handheld scanner. He watched with heavy, lidded eyes as you swept the scanner over him slowly and methodically.

You set down the scanner with a sigh, gently placing a hand on his shoulder. "Kix, what happened!? Your shift was supposed to end at 2300 hours! You need to go to bed!"

Kix rolled his eyes. Only a few more things to do and then he'd gladly follow your direction.

"Relax, I'll just be a few more minutes! It's only -" he paused, looking at the chrono around his wrist. It read 0725. "Oh."

"Yeah."

He winced at your deadpanned tone. "Sorry. I guess I lost track of time."

"I'll say." You placed the datapad back onto the desk but didn't remove your hand. "You didn't answer my question."

"What question?"

"What the hell happened to you!? You look awful, you sound like your entire head is clogged, and you've got two cracked ribs!"

Oh. Cracked. Not bruised.

He opened his mouth to respond just as one of the datapads let out a beep. You frowned and put a hand up, cutting off yet another desperately fabricated excuse. "And don't tell me Quinn called out. You just got a message from the Admiral asking you why you canceled Quinn's shift."

He sighed defeatedly, suppressing a wince at the twinge of pain in his side. He didn't meet your eyes. "I fell."

"You...fell!?" you questioned, sounding a bit incredulous. "When? How?!" He'd seemed fine when he'd ordered you to take off.

"'Bout an hour after you left," he admitted. "Must've been allergic to something in the dust planetside. I was unloading some supplies, got dizzy, and fell off the loading dock."

"And how long did you think you could hide that?" Your voice had once again taken on that scolding tone which for some reason made him feel both guilty and proud. You'd been a timid shiny when he first met you. Now here you were, taking charge of the situation with an air of authority and sass he likened to one of his generals. He shrugged.

"As long as it took to finish all of this." He motioned to the cluttered desk, immediately regretting the movement causing his ribs to tense painfully again.

Your eyes were piercing - full of concern and disbelief. "Why are you acting like everything is fine!?" you snapped, suddenly angry at his seemingly unphased attitude.

He didn't answer.

You shook your head. “Why didn’t you call me, Kix? If I’d known you weren’t feeling well, I could’ve at least helped you with the work!”

Kix didn't blame you. He'd probably have reacted the same way if he were in your shoes. He looked away.

"I just... I didn't want you to see me like this." he muttered softly. He sounded hoarse and miserable.

You sighed. "Let me get this right....You didn't want me - a medic - to see you sick and injured? So you - also a medic, who should know better, might I add - decided to hide it from everyone so that you could get your work done!? You sent away our best medtech so that you wouldn't be bothered by them realizing something was wrong!?"

Kix frowned. It did sound bad when you put it all out like that.

"Guess that sounds about right."

You stared at him. "That was really dumb, Kix."

"Yeah."

You sighed. "How long has it been since you've eaten anything?"

Kix thought back. When was the last time he'd eaten? His stomach revolted with just the thought. There was no way he'd be able to eat anything right now.

"I...I don't know," he admitted, not meeting your eyes.

You sighed. "Okay, come on. I'm gonna go get you something to eat."

He shook his head, resting it in the palms of his hands, rubbing his eyes. You were right about one thing, he was exhausted. But duty came first.

"I can't. I have so much to do." He nodded to the screen of his datapad. It was full of messages, requests, reports, and a number of reminders and meeting invitations flashed across the screen.

You laid your hand on his shoulder.

"Just humor me, please. Eat something, take a nap - "

Kix shoved your hand from his shoulder, then instantly regretted the action. Maker, if his ribs weren't killing him, he could just scream. All he wanted to do was sleep. But he had work to do. Why couldn't you understand that? He knew he was irritable but his rude reaction towards you - his friend - flooded him with even more guilt.

"I can't! I just can't! Admiral Yularen needs these reports in by tonight and I'm only halfway through them because I got interrupted by General Skywalker needing additional information for the next mission, so I spent two hours tracking that down, come to find out it was all for nothing because the kriffing Jedi council decided to send them elsewhere."

He took a gasping breath. Fire burned through his side, igniting a feral panic that gripped his chest with an icy grasp. His ribs were screaming. His head felt as though he’d been forced beneath the rabid jaws of Kaminoan ocean waves - descending ever downwards, pressure rising in painful crescendos. His hands were shaking and he couldn't make them stop.

"Hey! Kix, hey!" Gentle pressure pulled him from his spiral with a grounding hand rubbing circles on his back. Concern clouded your face as you knelt beside him.

"Breathe, Kix. I need you to breathe."

"Can't," he panted.

"I know," you responded evenly, holding an oxygen mask to his nose and mouth. "Just do the best you can."

"No!" He swatted the mask from your hand. He really had to get this done. Just a little while longer, then he'd rest - then he'd let you do whatever you needed to do.

You pursed your lips looking at the delirious medic in front of you.

"You know, I really didn't want to have to do this but I - "

Kix rolled his eyes, unconsciously gripping the oxygen to his face as he took another short, gasping breath. He knew what you'd say next. It was the same thing he'd say to Captain Rex, or even General Skywalker when they fought him on coming to the medbay.

"Are you really gonna pull the medic rank card on me?" He interrupted.

"Do I have to?" You looked pointedly at him. You were annoyed, yes, but you were also concerned. He knew you'd seen dying patients with more life in their eyes than he currently did.

He looked down at the long list of tasks he had yet to do and sighed in defeat. "No. I guess not."

"Good."

He couldn't identify the look on your face as he allowed you to lead him to a bed. Your hand lingered on his arm for a moment too long as you delivered a sedative into his veins. But for some reason he didn't mind.

"Don't worry, Kix." you said softly as you watched his eyes flutter shut. "You're safe. I'll take it from here."

Kix allowed himself to succumb to the peaceful allure of sleep even as your words echoed through his brain. "Let me take care of you, you stupid, beautiful, stubborn man."

--------------------------------------------------

@zoeykallus @ttzamara @nahoney22 @merkitty49 @viva-la-whump @thrawns-teef-weef @dumpsters-little-matchbook @nekotaetae @ladykatakuri @loverofclones @heyitsaloy @padawancat97 @jambolska-grozdova @flyingkangaroo @melymigo @rain-on-kamino @jiabae @my-own-oracle @dragonrider9905 @queenofspades6 @ordinarylokix @jupitersaturnapollo @queencousland101 @vampire-rouge @southernbaguette @staycalmandhugaclone @dalu-grantkylo @dangraccoon @aconstructofamind @blueink-bluesoul @kixs-husband @pb-jellybeans @atomickidsoul @caitnotfound @temmiegailg @skellymom @freesia-writes

If you want to be on my taglist, feel free to send me a message! Also, asks are open! Reblogging is very much encouraged and it makes me do a happy dance every time any of my writing gets reblogged 😂❤️

#kix #clone medic kix #tcw kix x reader #tcw kix x you #clone medic kix x reader #clone medic kix x you #tcw kix #star wars #star wars the clone wars #clone wars #swtcw #sw tcw #the bad batch #sw tbb #tbb crosshair #tbb hunter #tbb echo #tbb tech #tbb wrecker #tbb omega #clone medic #clone medic x reader #clone medic x you #tcw x reader #tcw x you #tcw general skywalker #anakin skywalker #captain rex #clone medic kix imagine #tcw kix imagine

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Private equity plunderers want to buy Simon & Schuster

Going to Defcon this weekend? I'm giving a keynote, "An Audacious Plan to Halt the Internet's Enshittification and Throw it Into Reverse," on Saturday at 12:30pm, followed by a book signing at the No Starch Press booth at 2:30pm!

https://info.defcon.org/event/?id=50826

Last November, publishing got some excellent news: the planned merger of Penguin Random House (the largest publisher in the history of human civilization) with its immediate competitor Simon & Schuster would not be permitted, thanks to the DOJ's deftly argued case against the deal:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/07/random-penguins/#if-you-wanted-to-get-there-i-wouldnt-start-from-here

When I was a baby writer, there were dozens of large NY publishers. Today, there are five - and it was almost four. A publishing sector with five giant companies is bad news for writers (as Stephen King said at the trial, the idea that PRH and S&S would bid against each other for books was as absurd as the idea that he and his wife would bid against each other for their next family home).

But it's also bad news for publishing workers, a historically exploited and undervalued workforce whose labor conditions have only declined as the number of employers in the sector dwindled, leading to mass resignations:

https://lithub.com/unlivable-and-untenable-molly-mcghee-on-the-punishing-life-of-junior-publishing-employees/

It should go without saying that workers in sectors with few employers get worse deals from their bosses (see, e.g., the writers' strike and actors' strike). And yup, right on time, PRH, a wildly profitable publisher, fired a bunch of its most senior (and therefore hardest to push around) workers:

https://www.nytimes.com/2023/07/18/books/penguin-random-house-layoffs-buyouts.html

But publishing's contraction into a five-company cartel didn't occur in a vacuum. It was a normal response to monopolization elsewhere in its supply chain. First it was bookselling collapsing into two major chains. Then it was distribution going from 300 companies to three. Today, it's Amazon, a monopolist with unlimited access to the capital markets and a track record of treating publishers "the way a cheetah would pursue a sickly gazelle":

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/31/seize-the-means-of-computation/#the-internet-con

Monopolies are like Pringles (owned by the consumer packaged goods monopolist Procter & Gamble): you can't have just one. As soon as you get a monopoly in one part of the supply chain, every other part of that chain has to monopolize in self-defense.

Think of healthcare. Consolidation in pharma lead to price-gouging, where hospitals were suddenly paying 1,000% more for routine drugs. Hospitals formed regional monopolies and boycotted pharma companies unless they lowered their prices - and then turned around and screwed insurers, jacking up the price of care. Health insurers gobbled each other up in an orgy of mergers and fought the hospitals.

Now the health care system is composed of a series of gigantic, abusive monopolists - pharma, hospitals, medical equipment, pharmacy benefit managers, insurers - and they all conspire to wreck the lives of only two parts of the system who can't fight back: patients and health care workers. Patients pay more for worse care, and medical workers get paid less for worse working conditions.

So while there was no question that a PRH takeover of Simon & Schuster would be bad for writers and readers, it was also clear that S&S - and indeed, all of the Big Five publishers - would be under pressure from the monopolies in their own supply chain. What's more, it was clear that S&S couldn't remain tethered to Paramount, its current owner.

Last week, Paramount announced that it was going to flip S&S to KKR, one of the world's most notorious private equity companies. KKR has a long, long track record of ghastly behavior, and its portfolio currently includes other publishing industry firms, including one rotten monopolist, raising similar concerns to the ones that scuttled the PRH takeover last year:

https://www.nytimes.com/2023/08/07/books/booksupdate/paramount-simon-and-schuster-kkr-sale.html

Let's review a little of KKR's track record, shall we? Most spectacularly, they are known for buying and destroying Toys R Us in a deal that saw them extract $200m from the company, leaving it bankrupt, with lifetime employees getting $0 in severance even as its executives paid themselves tens of millions in "performance bonuses":

https://memex.craphound.com/2018/06/03/private-equity-bosses-took-200m-out-of-toys-r-us-and-crashed-the-company-lifetime-employees-got-0-in-severance/

The pillaging of Toys R Us isn't the worst thing KKR did, but it was the most brazen. KKR lit a beloved national chain on fire and then walked away, hands in pockets, whistling. They didn't even bother to clear their former employees' sensitive personnel records out of the unlocked filing cabinets before they scarpered:

https://memex.craphound.com/2018/09/23/exploring-the-ruins-of-a-toys-r-us-discovering-a-trove-of-sensitive-employee-data/

But as flashy as the Toys R Us caper was, it wasn't the worst. Private equity funds specialize in buying up businesses, loading them with debts, paying themselves, and then leaving them to collapse. They're sometimes called vulture capitalists, but they're really vampire capitalists:

https://www.motherjones.com/politics/2022/05/private-equity-buyout-kkr-houdaille/

Given a choice, PE companies don't want to prey on sick businesses - they preferentially drain off value from thriving ones, preferably ones that we must use, which is why PE - and KKR in particular - loves to buy health care companies.

Heard of the "surprise billing epidemic"? That's where you go to a hospital that's covered by your insurer, only to discover - after the fact - that the emergency room is operated by a separate, PE-backed company that charges you thousands for junk fees. KKR and Blackstone invented this scam, then funneled millions into fighting the No Surprises Act, which more-or-less killed it:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/04/21/all-in-it-together/#doctor-patient-unity

KKR took one of the nation's largest healthcare providers, Envision, hostage to surprise billing, making it dependent on these fraudulent payments. When Congress finally acted to end this scam, KKR was able to take to the nation's editorial pages and damn Congress for recklessly endangering all the patients who relied on it:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/03/14/unhealthy-finances/#steins-law

Like any smart vampire, KKR doesn't drain its victim in one go. They find all kinds of ways to stretch out the blood supply. During the pandemic, KKR was front of the line to get massive bailouts for its health-care holdings, even as it fired health-care workers, increasing the workload and decreasing the pay of the survivors of its indiscriminate cuts:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/04/11/socialized-losses/#socialized-losses

It's not just emergency rooms. KKR bought and looted homes for people with disabilities, slashed wages, cut staff, and then feigned surprise at the deaths, abuse and misery that followed:

https://www.buzzfeednews.com/article/kendalltaggart/kkr-brightspring-disability-private-equity-abuse

Workers' wages went down to $8/hour, and they were given 36 hour shifts, and then KKR threatened to have any worker who walked off the job criminally charged with patient abandonment:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/06/02/plunderers/#farben

For KKR, people with disabilities and patients make great victims - disempowered and atomized, unable to fight back. No surprise, then, that so many of KKR's scams target poor people - another group that struggles to get justice when wronged. KKR took over Dollar General in 2007 and embarked on a nationwide expansion campaign, using abusive preferential distributor contracts and targeting community-owned grocers to trap poor people into buying the most heavily processed, least nutritious, most profitable food available:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/03/27/walmarts-jackals/#cheater-sizes

94.5% of the Paycheck Protection Program - designed to help small businesses keep their workers payrolled during lockdown - went to giant businesses, fraudulently siphoned off by companies like Longview Power, 40% owned by KKR:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/04/20/great-danes/#ppp

KKR also helped engineer a loophole in the Trump tax cuts, convincing Justin Muzinich to carve out taxes for C-Corporations, which let KKR save billions in taxes:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/06/02/broken-windows/#Justin-Muzinich

KKR sinks its fangs in every part of the economy, thanks to the vast fortunes it amassed from its investors, ripped off from its customers, and fraudulently obtained from the public purse. After the pandemic, KKR scooped up hundreds of companies at firesale prices:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/03/30/medtronic-stole-your-ventilator/#blackstone-kkr

Ironically, the investors in KKR funds are also its victims - especially giant public pension funds, whom KKR has systematically defrauded for years:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/07/22/stimpank/#kentucky

And now KKR has come for Simon & Schuster. The buyout was trumpeted to the press as a done deal, but it's far from a fait accompli. Before the deal can close, the FTC will have to bless it. That blessing is far from a foregone conclusion. KKR also owns Overdrive, the monopoly supplier of e-lending software to libraries.

Overdrive has a host of predatory practices, loathed by both libraries and publishers (indeed, much of the publishing sector's outrage at library e-lending is really displaced anger at Overdrive). There's a plausible case that the merger of one of the Big Five publishers with the e-lending monopoly will present competition issues every bit as deal-breaking as the PRH/S&S merger posed.

(Image: Sefa Tekin/Pexels, modified)

I’m kickstarting the audiobook for “The Internet Con: How To Seize the Means of Computation,” a Big Tech disassembly manual to disenshittify the web and bring back the old, good internet. It’s a DRM-free book, which means Audible won’t carry it, so this crowdfunder is essential. Back now to get the audio, Verso hardcover and ebook:

http://seizethemeansofcomputation.org

If you’d like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here’s a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/08/vampire-capitalism/#kkr

#kkr #simon and schuster #publishing #penguin random house #ppp loans #looters #plunderers #vampire capitalism #vulture capitalism #debt #private equity #pe #harmful dominance #monopoly #trustbusters #incentives matter #labor #writing #publishing workers #recorded books #overdrive #glam #libraries #toys r us #pluralistic

[josephquinnswhore]

Good Girl

Pairing: Male Nurse Joel Miller x female patient reader.

Summary: the nurse in triage calls you a good girl.

Word Count: 2k

Content Warning: Joel Miller with curly hair and glasses, praise kink. Taking pills—painkillers and steroids. Implied age gap, older Joel—mid twenties reader. No outbreak.

Note: based off the sexy male nurse tonight at hospital that called me a good girl 😭 maybe it was innocent but I have a praise kink baby! Anyway, I’m high off painkillers and steroids and I’m super sick so this is probably a terrible fic. Anyway enjoy… or don’t!

You were worn from the endless beat down and busyness that work had drained you with. Your car keys in hand jingle in the silence of the night, glad you put on that ugly navy-blue hand knit old man’s sweater you’d brought from lowes. It was cold—perhaps a symptom of her sickness, or maybe it was just cold.

It was too quiet for your liking—never taking too kindly to hospitals, let alone at 10:00pm, in the complete darkness. It was silent, not one pair of footsteps, not a monitor beeping. It sets the anxiety on hold in your throat skyrocketing into nausea.

Your converse on the ugly off-white tile is comforting, at least you’re not completely alone in the eerie building. You look around the front desk, sighing in annoyance that to your surprise, there’s no one there. The box of masks and tissues occupy the space of the counter. And a sign; made by the staff.

The notice was printed on a foul-yellow in big bold writing.

“STAFF ON BREAK. GONE FOR 30 MINUTES. PLEASE SEE TRIAGE IF STAFF NOT AVAILABLE.”

Oh—okay, that’s fine. Everyone needs a break, especially healthcare workers in these dire times.

Walking back past the section of the building you’d come through initially, the permanently open sliding doors, you come to find again; no one at the triage.

But there’s no note, perhaps they’re just busy tonight. If so; why was it so silent? The ache in your ear dulled, but still caught the sound of someone shuffling in the background, through the window you could see an older lady, short with greying hair and rectangular glasses remaking a bed.

You decide to press the giant green button that says “call.” The woman notices the sound, turning the alarm off as she approaches the desk.

Her voice is irritable; like you’re interrupting the most important task of her damned life. “Can I help you?” She asks rudely.

A man in dark blue scrubs interrupts. “Are you here to see a doctor?” His voice is husky, tired sounding but still kind.

“Yes, please.” You plead tiredly, eyes dropping lazily and scoffing at how late it was, and how you’d have to be at work tomorrow.

Damn it all, right?

“Come in sweetheart.” He swipes his card on the door that’s attached to the pocket on his scrubs, unlocking the door with a beeping sound, he holds the door open for you.

“Thank you.” You wearily and slowly walk into the triage, the body aches infecting every limb of yours too to bottom.

“Just sit down here, and we’ll get some of your details. My name is Mr Miller, but you can call me Joel.” He grins cheekily.

You sit on the uncomfortable leather seat, a monitor right next to you, a second seat next to your own remains unoccupied as you arrived alone.

The details are boring, your name, birthdate, address and allergies are all rushed through quickly, although you did seem to notice how the man’s ears reddened at the sound of your name.

Great, now you’re sick and delusional.

He scoots his chair over to you, the wheels rolling along the slick floors, his legs guiding him to the monitor, he puts the cuff around your arm and checks your blood pressure.

He frowns at the result.

You refrain from looking until he’s back at his desk typing notes. That can’t be good.

“Alright, what brings you in tonight lovely?” The man’s attention was undivided. Those deep brown—chocolate eyes were watching you. It felt a little intimidating.

“I’ve had a cough for a few days, but I’m struggling to eat and drink due to how swollen my tonsils feel. There’s also an ache in my left ear.” You explain hoarsely, your voice seemed to have changed as a result of your withering condition, even had started losing your voice.

“Alright now, I’m going to check your temperature first, so I need you to slip this under your tongue, okay?” Enamoured by how soft this man’s voice was, you only nodded in compliance.

He puts a small disposable plastic cover over the thermometer and when it beeps he throws the cover in the bin and hums to himself. “Temperature is okay.”

“Just going to have a look in that ear and see if there’s anything unusual going on, just hold on tight.”

You remain patient, watching his every move, eyes veering back and forth as you watch him, noting how small the ear torch thingy looked in his hands, Christ, was that even normal?

“Ears look alright.” He states confidently. “Now I just want to check your mouth, open up wide for me.”

You comply, wordlessly, tongue hanging out of your mouth, he can’t seem to find his torch as he rummages through his things, deciding to use the torch off his phone.

A phone that seemed old school to be owned by a nurse. “Just try and relax that tongue for me.” His voice was soft, squinting as he tried to see the condition of your throat.

He jumps in thought, pulling the small pair of glasses from his top pocket, he looks so sweet with them on.

“Let’s try again, just try and relax your tongue, keep it down on the bottom of your mouth if you can.” He encouraged, “relax that tongue for me.”

He pulls away, turning the torch off on his phone.

“Sorry sweetheart I’m going to need to use the tongue compressor.” He chuckles, you let out a huff of a laugh, due to your hoarse and irritated voice.

“Sorry—I was trying to keep it still, it’s hard when you’re trying to consciously keep it from moving.”

The man walks to the other side of the room, he lets out a laugh. “It’s alright—we’ll get you sorted.”

You notice more things about him as he walks around, the half sleeve that covers his elbow. Black and grey mainly, but a cherry blossom flower in pink. Not entirely neat, the ink had faded, you could only presume it was a result of being tattooed many years ago. Perhaps before your time.

His arms were thick, muscly. The poor seams of his uniform sleeves were holding with all their might in the double stitch. His neck were thick, and even though you could only see a small portion of his chest, you notice the defined collarbones and black coarse chest hairs that come up to the base of his neck. His hair was slightly grown out, curly hair seemed free range. The grey hairs in his hair matched his patchy—but neatly shaven beard.

God he looked tired, his expression matching your own, he yawned underneath the mask he wore haphazardly. “Pardon me, it’s getting to that time of night.”

“I feel you,” you mumble, tiredness laced in every syllable.

He takes the paper wrapper off the wooden stick, holding it out as he sits back in his chair, across from you. “Just gonna hold your tongue down and get a look.” He firmly presses the stick into your mouth, holding your tongue down to prevent it blocking where he needs to see.

Your tongue seems to dispute the sudden constriction and wiggles which he laughs at.

“Good girl, thank you.” He praises, sparing a glance before wheeling back to his desk to throw the wooden stick in the bin, going back to his computer to type in his notes.

Good what now? Surely that’s not apart of a normal checkup, or procedure, right? Your whole body tingles and you feel yourself feeling warm, almost faint at his praise.

“Alright darlin, if you wanna sit in the waiting room and wait for the doctor you’ll be right in,” he gives a polite smile, you miss the way he looks you up and down. He holds the door open for you, slowly you’re able to lift your aching body off the seat that's noulded around you, offering him a small smile as you walk past him. “Thank you so much.”

You hobble to the stiff seats, taking a spot in the second row from the front—directly across from the front desk.. where typically the attendant had turned the light on and sat back down, she stares at you as she takes down her sign.

The tv was quiet, but it depicted a movie you were quite fond of; Kingsman: The Golden Circle.

Well—your love for Pedro Pascal made the movie more enjoyable.

He made a fine cowboy after all.

After a few minutes of watching the scene on the quiet tv, and snap chatting with your friends to let you know that you’d been praised by a sexy nurse, you’re called into the doctor's office. In which; the sexy nurse himself was there, assisting the doctor.

“I hear you’re not feeling too well, young lady.” The doctor was an older man, lean and tall, one white patch at the front of his otherwise untouched brown hair.

“I’m just going to check a few things out, we’ll get this all sorted for you so you can go home.” He said cheerfully.

The doctor, same as Mr Miller—Joel.. checked your mouth, tongue, ears and asked a few of the same questions. After assessing you; he finally had an answer.

“Sounds like a viral infection—we’ll get you some pain killers, steroids and a list of symptoms we’ll need you to come back for, if you experience them. I’ll be back in one moment!” The lanky doctor exclaimed.

The nurse—Joel, stayed. “Why don’t we get you seated, you don’t look well.” His large hand guides your mid-lower back, taking your hand to sit you onto the freshly made bed, the linen now tainted with your sickness.

“Thank you,” a whisper is all your aching throat can manage.

The moment is ruined by the doctor. “These are the steroids and pain relief. I forgot to ask—do you need a medical certificate?” He tilted his head, handing you the small white paper cup that had 4 pills, two large and two small. With a cup of water.

“Yes please, I’m scheduled to work tomorrow but I don’t feel fit enough to work.” You manage softly, although feeling a little embarrassed to complain about working in your condition.

Joel looked tired and stressed, yet here you were complaining. You begin swallowing the tablets, the two large first, unable to stop yourself from gagging as the pill gets lodged in your throat—the swelling of your tonsils makes it difficult to swallow.

But you manage, thank t to the encouragement of Joel. “It’s alright, easy now, don’t rush.” He croons, standing a little too close to you.

You take his advise, taking a few moments to swallow the pills and eventually you’re done. “There you go, easy now sweetheart,” he murmurs gently. Your body halts it’s shuffling to get off the bed, but the man takes your plastic and paper cup and put it in the bin for you. You’re stunned by how thoughtful and beautiful this older man was.

“Medical certificate and some pain killers to take home.” The doctor stated, interrupting your delusion, sitting them down on the work bench across from your position on the bed. “If you start to feel worse, fevers, vomiting, shortness of breath please come back.”

You stand, suppressing a groan as your stiff ankles hold the ache for your weight. “Thank you so much. Have a good evening.”

He bids his farewells, and you pick up your paperwork and medication, noting how once again, the nurse is holding the door open for you, the stronger man gives you a soft smile.

“Feel better sweetheart. Don’t hesitate to come back. Want you looked after, yeah?” It sounded like a coo, like he was pleading for your condition to improve.

“Thank you for all your help.” You muster, feeling better already thanks to the fast working medication.

“See you around.” His hand brushed against your lower back as you walk past. “Have something to eat when you get home, won’t you?”

Your cheeks felt inflamed, not from sickness, but bashfulness. “I’ll do that.” You promised, making your exit out of that stale smelling room. Your stomach grumbled, as if it also wished to comply to this man’s sweet demands.

The only thought of that handsome man on your mind, was she imagining things.. surely not?

Either way, your immune system was no good, it was almost a guarantee you’d be back sooner or later.. you just hoped, nurse Joel Miller would be on the clock to assist you back to health.

#pedro pascal #Joel miller #Joel miller hbo #Joel miller fic #Joel miller x you #Joel miller nurse x patient reader #Joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x fem reader #joel miller praise kink #old man joel miller #this is garbage sorry #I’m drugged up and sick #stay delulu #the last of us

[covidsafehotties]

Do you have any info posts about kinds of masks to get? I cant work so cant afford disposable masks constantly, so ivebeen using a cloth one but heard that they dont work well - do you know of any good reusable ones I can buy? Thanks :)

https://reusable-respirators.com/

This was literally every resource I could think of off the top of my head. Unfortunately, finding a well-fitting elastomeric can take some trial and error: not all faces are the same shape. The MSA Advantage 900 has the best general fit, but is notably large and heavy. I like my flomask and have known several people who swear by the envomask. Do a little research and see what will work for you.

The savings in buying new cartridges/individual filters for an elasromeric vs n95 disposables is sizeable! 50 Auras will run you in the ballpark of $75, but 50 flomask inserts are $25. It's a worthwhile investment given the ongoing pandenic and new yearly risk of wildfires.

#elastomeric masks #mask up #covid #asks #anon #covid isn't over #covid 19 #pandemic #covid conscious #covid is airborne #wear a mask #coronavirus

[titaniasfairy]

john price might be a little territorial

cw: fem!reader, soft dom!price, oral (fem receiving), fingering, p in v,

honestly got this idea after @glossysoap mentioned needing to experience beard burn 😭

18+ MDNI !!

being a liaison for the SAS unit, specifically the task force 141, was working out wonderfully for you.

despite you being a glorified paperwork handler, the job had its perks. with government healthcare and a pretty hefty salary, you were going along just fine.

not to mention your co-workers, who are just lovely. most of them have become your best friends who you can tell anything to.

soap who’s just a sweetheart, always trying to help you in whatever way possible. you remember one day where he brought you lunch because you were so busy with your reports, saying he couldn’t stand to see you hungry.

gaz who’s so patient with you! he doesn’t mind if it takes a little longer to get his files turned in or his mission reviews typed up. some nights he’ll even bring you a cup of coffee to keep you awake.

ghost who’s just a gentle giant. always telling you dad jokes to brighten up your day, going above and beyond to make you smile. he’ll leave sticky notes on your desk with silly puns or inside jokes to make the day a little easier.

and captain john price, who never fails to make you cum. after a long, hard night he’ll come knocking on your office door to lay you down on your desk and fuck you with his fingers. his thick digits will curl up into your g-spot to make your legs spasm and your back arch.

if you ever needed an off day to destress or relax, best believe he’s at your door the moment he finds out. in his eyes, the best way to destress is to bend you over the bed and fuck you into oblivion.

while your moments with him are so blissful, the second he leaves you’re stuck in a state of loneliness. you’ll lay in your bed that just feels so cold without his warming presence. john says he can’t spend the nights, afraid of what would happen if anyone found out about your relationship.

but this idea changed all so suddenly.

the team was out one night celebrating their recent mission. they sat in a dimly lit pub drinking in celebration. while john was only a bit buzzed, the rest of the team was piss drunk.

gaz and soap were arm wrestling , and simon was acting as a ‘judge’ for the contest. the three of them were laughing hysterically when price’s phone rang.

you were still on base getting some reports done, and had to ask john an important question on filing the documents. you got your answer and thanked him before hanging up.

when john put his phone away, the boy’s focus was now on him and his phone call. gaz asked if it was you on the phone with a cheeky look on his face and john nodded.

“did ya’ see what she was wearin’ today? i could barely take my eyes off of er’ arse in that skirt.” johnny said while sipping his pint.

“cmon, soap be a gentleman.” kyle said while nudging his teammate’s shoulder.

“don’t deny it! you n’ LT were just goin’ on about how good her tits looked in that blouse last week!”

“he’s right, gaz.” simon mumbled out from the other side of the table.

all the while price was clenching his fists furiously. he couldn’t stand having his men talk about what was his— what only he could have. he stood up suddenly and gathered his things.

“i’m goin’ home, got laundry to do.” it was a bold face lie. price had no intention of going home, not until he claimed you for the night.

before the boys could say anything john was gone. he slammed the door of his truck closed and started the engine, dead set on making you know you’re his.

price’s hands gripped the steering wheel hard, his jeans growing tighter just at the thought of what he was going to do to you.

without having to think about it, his feet led him to your office and knocked on your door loudly.

your sweet voice called out “come in” and he barged into the room, slamming the door behind him.

“john, what’s wrong i thought you went-”

“strip.”

his words took you off guard and you gave him a confused look by squinting your eyes and furrowing your brows.

“what are you talking about-”

he interrupted you again

“i said strip. do it before i make you.”

you closed your laptop and began unbuttoning your blouse, fingers nervously shaking in anticipation of what was to come. you shrugged the blouse off and threw it across the room while john hummed in approval.

“turn around and take the skirt off.”

his arms were crossed and his gaze was intensely fixed on you. you turned slowly and john got a good look at your ass in that tight pencil skirt you were wearing. you unzipped the skirt and threw it onto the pile before you hastily took off your heels. you were left in your bra and panties, a wired t-shirt bra and your cotton underwear.

you turned back around and john advanced on you by grabbing your waist and pulling you into a hot kiss. his teeth clashed against yours and his tongue fought its way into your mouth while your hands held his face.

his hands lingered on your body and palmed your breasts through your bra. john pushed you up against him and you could feel his throbbing erection through his jeans, making you moan softly.

“gonna show them all who you belong to.” john’s words came out in a growling voice and before you could respond, he picked you up and placed you on your desk. his lips traveled from your mouth to your jawline and eventually falling to your neck. he left dark marks with his lips and teeth, effectively claiming you with his marks.

between moans you huffed out in protest, “john- people will see them.” your hands moved to push him away, but he persisted.

“let them see. let them know who gets to please you like this.”

you’ve never seen john so possessive, he’s always been cautious with your meetings, too scared to have everyone know of your secret. the hanging threat of the consequences always loomed over his head, but now it seemed like the captain had nothing to lose.

his words went straight to your core, soaking your panties with arousal. john reached his hands behind your back and freed you from your bra. his eyes immediately glued onto your tits as your nipples hardened from the sudden cold air.

greedy hands groped your breasts while john’s lips wrapped around the bud of your nipple and sucked hard. your fingers ran through his short hair and gripped hard when his teeth grazed against you.

he moved his mouth to the other breast, repeating his actions. his hand slid down your stomach and into your soiled panties. you could feel him smile against you when his fingers ran across your wet slit.

“so wet for me, love. you been thinkin’ about this all day?”

it was like he could read your mind. ever since you woke, dirty thoughts of john and his cock filled your head. your thighs squeezed together with every word he spoke.

“yeah.. been needy all day for you.”

he took his mouth off of your breast and gave you a soft kiss. “i know, love. i’m gonna take care of it, f’you.”

his hands moved to rid you of your panties, leaving you completely naked on your desk. john’s lips left a wet trail of kisses down your body, landing on the hood of your pussy. soft blue eyes started into yours as john sank to his knees in front of you.

john took hold of your thighs and left small pecks on the inside of them. he teased you relentlessly, making you ache inside. you needed his mouth and whined out to let him know.

“if you want something, you have to ask.” he mumbled out against the plush of your thighs.

you whimpered out, but to no avail. john’s eyes stared into you and you had no choice but to beg.

“please eat my pussy! i need to feel your mouth on me, john.”

“that’s better.”

his mouth latched onto your sex and began to lap at your inner folds. it was messy and wet the way his tongue ran along your cunt and slobbered on your clit. you muffled your moans with your hands and arched your back, trying so hard to get even closer to him.

you ground your hips into him and held his hair with your fingers. his lips latched around your clit and sucked hard. john began to palm his length through his jeans, making him moan against your core. the vibrations against you only made your peak come faster.

his beard stung against your thighs, only adding to your pleasure. you were sure that tomorrow it’d hurt like a bitch, but right now it was fucking divine.

“taste so fucking good, love.” john’s middle and ring finger slipped inside of you, causing your mouth to let out an involuntary moan. john chuckled and circled your clit with his thumb while thrusting his digits into you.

“go on, baby. let everyone know who you belong to.” in reality there was no one left in the office area. everyone had either gone to their barracks or the dining hall.

you moaned out as his fingers curled inside you, hitting that spot only john could reach. your legs shook and he could tell that you were close.

“you gonna cum for me? gonna wet my fucking fingers with your juices? come on love, let go for me.”

his lips wrapped around your clit once more, sending you over the edge. you moaned out in bliss while your body spasmed. you soaked john’s fingers with your cum as he continued to thrust them into you.

once you came down from your high, john carefully removed his fingers from you and sucked them clean. after which he kissed you hard, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

while his tongue was busy in your mouth, his hands began to unbuckle his belt and undo his pants. john pulled down his jeans along with his boxers and revealed his achingly hard length. it throbbed at the feeling of the air, standing tall at about 7.5 inches.

john pulled his lips from yours and aligned his cock to your entrance. “you ready, dear?” his eyes were filled with gentleness and lust and you could only give him a small nod. his hips slowly thrusted forward inside you, filling you up by the second.

when his hips were flush against yours and he was fully inside you, he kissed you softly. “you feel so fucking good. no one else gets this but me, you understand?” the feeling of his cock inside you was so overwhelming that you could only let out a whiney “mmhm!”

after your response, john began to thrust his cock into you hard. his hands gripped your thighs as pounded into you. his cock was so big that it hit every spot inside you, leaving you a crying mess below him.

your moans were reduced to small ‘ah ah ah’s while john let out grunts and groans from the feeling of your cunt squeezing around him. he swears that you’re the tightest pussy he’s ever fucked.

his balls slapped against your ass and the sound of skin on skin filled the room. john pushed your legs back against your chest, getting the deepest angle he could. your tummy bulged with him inside you and john’s eyes focused hard on your abdomen, pressing his hand on the prominent bulge inside you.

“you feel that baby? i’m so fucking deep inside you, love. wonder how your tummy would look if it was full with my kid.”

your eyes shut at the thought of john impregnating you and your cunt squeezed around him, sucking his cock back inside of you.

“you like that, hm? like the idea of carrying my baby? gonna tell everyone who’s it is? tell everyone it was me who did this to you?” john’s grip on your waist tightened and his thrusts were harder.

your orgasm began to rise up again, getting closer with every thrust inside you. john’s grunts became full on moans and his thrusts began to stutter. your hands groped your tits and your fingers swirled your nipples, bringing you closer to release.

“come on, love, let’s cum together. i need to empty my balls in this tight little cunt. need to give you my baby, need to breed this wet pussy.”

before john could finish his sentence you were moaning out and cumming on his length. his seed began to spill inside you in long fat ropes of his cum while he let out pornographic groans into the air. you threw your head back and rode out your high as john did for his.

once the both of you were spent, john slowly pulled out of your pussy and pulled your panties back on before putting his own pants on. he sat in your office chair and pulled you into his lap while you were still nude.

he held you against his chest while running his hand up and down your back. you felt complete with him, you found solace in these moments with him.

“i don’t want us to be a secret anymore, love. i can’t take it.”

you lifted your head and stared into his eyes in disbelief. “but what about-?” he shushed you and held you close.

“i’m not worried about that anymore. i want everyone to know you’re my girl.”

[fiveht]

hi Five, Merry Christmas! I'm on holiday from work and I'm going to spend the weekend rereading Disarm and Head over feet as a Christmas treat for myself. I know you've been having a tough time and I totally understand wanting to retreat from fandom when people are being shit, so I hope you're well and I hope you're having a lovely holiday.

Hi!

I keep meaning to drop in and say something; I've gotten a lot of really sweet messages and I would flood timelines if I tried to respond to all of them, but I want to say thank you to all of you, truly. I'm so, so glad my silly little story made you guys happy. This verse was lovingly extracted from the ailing brain cell that Bestie and I share, and we are absolutely tickled that it struck a chord with so many people.

I work in healthcare and a lot of my co-workers have children (and I do not), so I'm taking a ton of overtime right now so they can have time off with their families. That makes it hard to stay up on fandom participation. I'm not absent because people are being assholes -- with one or two very notable exceptions, everyone has been amazing -- I'm just overworked and tired.

To answer some questions, I would love to write more for the Adore series. I've already written a few snippets for what would be a third instalment, so it's definitely not out of the question. My motivation and creative drive are very fickle things, so I can never make promises, but it's possible. I do know that I can't write and be fandom-social at the same time, so I wouldn't be around these parts much if I were to work on another story.

Things the sequel might contain: a return to Sirius' POV, more Rieka, more James, more of Sirius' backstory, a step into a slightly more defined D/s relationship for daddy and baby (some of which is new ground for Remus, too). None of these are guaranteed (nor is the existence of the fic at all), but they are elements I would like to write and/or have a very tenuous foundation for in the form of rough notes and half-written scene intros. So we'll see what the new year brings. 😊

Merry Christmas and happy holidays to every last one of you, and thank you for making this year so incredibly lovely for me. ❤️

#asked and answered #this is my only day off until new year's and i am getting day drunk #see me fall asleep in a couple hours because i am definitely too old to be drunk at 3 in the afternoon #side note: i finally read all for the game and i'm mad that no one told me it was basically a queer romance with a sports background #i hate sports AUs and sports in general #but this shit was gay enough to negate that bias

[tcookies777]

Where I am now

Many of you have left such kind comments and sent me messages out of concern for my wellbeing. For that, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. I also appreciate your patience as I understand it can be difficult to wait months for a chapter update on a long, tedious fic such as The Anatomy of Love. Your patience for this story is always sincerely appreciated.

I've been struggling for months to find the right words to say. To decide whether to express the ache in my heart or draw lines and stay silent. But while a part of me wishes to say little to nothing on the matter out of a sense of shame, the better part of me recognizes that conversations like the one I'm about to raise are something that needs to be discussed more. If only to raise awareness of the topic or help destigmatize it. If only to normalize issues like these. If only to just help someone else who might be going through a dark period in their life as well.

It's here that I'll give a final warning of the sensitive topics of this post. So feel free to turn away now if the topic of mental illness might be upsetting.

Trigger warning: suicide and mental illness

Ok, so here goes....

My sister committed suicide. I won't go into details of course, but it was not peaceful or quiet - it was violent, gruesome, and excruciatingly painful. So much so that the police thought it might've been a murder and harshly investigated us, making everything more difficult and traumatizing than it already was.

She had battled with depression for nearly 2 decades, deteriorating far beyond recognition. We had grown estranged over the years of my childhood because she pushed loved ones away, blaming them for the way she turned out but also still relying on them to survive. An awful cycle of codependency.

I myself have been battling with high-functioning depression for the past decade, which is one reason why I struggle to respond to people's messages. From readers, friends, and family alike. I, too, have an issue of pushing people away. Because I'm ashamed for them to see how broken my life is. Because I have seen the way people judge you for having a mental illness. I have witnessed friends, family, and even Healthcare workers gaze upon the mentally ill as if they are a sore sight.

To be honest, I understand both sides; it can also be frustrating to pool all your time, effort and resources into trying to help someone who does not want to be helped. It burns you out. That despite your efforts to fight for that person, they do not fight for themselves and you're forced to watch them deteriorate in a slow, agonizing process.

"At the beginning, you’ll do your best to shoulder all my burdens. At the beginning, you’ll be strong about it. But over time, you’ll come to regret it—you'll come to regret me, and the burden that I have become to you." — Kakashi, Chapter 30 of The Anatomy of Love

On the other side, it's hard to take that step to accept the help offered to you. It's hard to find the strength to meet your loved ones halfway and help them to help you when you hardly have the strength to even get out of bed. Yet, you also feel guilty because it feels as if you are just dragging down those around you.

These are the feelings Kakashi expresses to Sakura in Chapter 30, when he tries to explain the reasons why they cannot and should not pursue a relationship. Guilt and self-loathing are the feelings that have been eating me up inside for years, as they ate at my sister as well.

We were born from a loveless, violent marriage. So we didn't know how to love each other, though we did whether we wanted to or not. Likely it was the trauma that bonded us. But put together, my sister and I were oil and water. Loving someone who is your family but is practically a stranger to you is incredibly difficult and taxing.

Yet, I understood completely. You just don't know how to show love to someone when you were never given love.

But despite my estrangement from my sister, I still love her. Being a 1st generation American often means you have nothing but your family. When you have no house, no savings, no relatives to turn to - just your immediate family - it can be a toxic, tough love where you have only that person whether you like them or not. And in Asian culture, family is especially everything even when it's completely dysfunctional.

So why am I updating TAOL now?

It's mostly for myself. Because it's my own comfort fic that allows me to engage in therapeutic writing. It's a story of loneliness and love of all forms (romantic, sexual, familial, etc). More importantly, it's a story about finding family, finding love, and finding home. Something that I've yearned for all my life.

And it's a story of pursuing happiness even when you think you don't deserve it. It's a story that shows good coping mechanisms and bad coping mechanisms and their consequences. It's a story of picking yourself up by the bootstraps even when you just want to sit and wallow in despair. And it's also a story of embracing the love of those around you and taking their hands when they reach out to you and offer their support.

At its core, The Anatomy of Love is a story about fighting loneliness, self-hatred, guilt, and mental illness with love. With the love of friends and family. And with the love for yourself. Because while it's important to have a strong support system to love and look out for you, it is just as important to love yourself and really put in the effort to take care of yourself. And sometimes that means being ""selfish"" and prioritizing yourself over others.

Why am I saying all this?

I'll admit, I'm uncomfortable revealing the skeletons in my closet to strangers online where everyone can judge and share my secrets. I'm embarrassed to admit that TAOL's themes are projections of my own desires, and for people to know that I write about such things in fanfic because of the fact that I don't have them. But I'm just too insecure to talk to anyone 1 on 1. Not to mention that, unfortunately, it's not that simple to just go to therapy (especially when the healthcare system is broke here).

Most importantly, I hope that if there's anyone out there reading this and going through a shitty point in their lives as well... I hope you are able to take comfort in the fact that you are not alone in this. We individually have our own demons to fight, but we're all fighting the same battle.

I wish I could say it gets better, but there's honestly no guarantee. So many times, I've had to stop myself from telling patients "things'll get better" because that's a promise that we're taught never to make. The truth is no one knows if things really do get better. Personally, I haven't been feeling better at all. For most of my life, people have been telling me it gets better and to just be patient, but every year it actually gets worse and worse. And just when you think things are starting to look up, it instead gets even more worse.

It's tiresome waiting years for things to get better when it seems it's nowhere in sight.

But I'm trying my best to take it day by day. I do my best to get out of bed, go to work, take a proper shower, feed myself. I do my best to love myself - mostly out of fear that what little family I have will one day disappear and I will have no one left to love me. No one but myself.

But sometimes my best does not feel enough. Sometimes I hate myself more days than others.

That's okay, I tell myself. I hate myself today, but I will love myself tomorrow. I will forgive myself eventually. I can be happy eventually. One day at a time.

Because on my better days, I realize that not every person can afford to wait for things to get better. You have to be the one to take the initiative - get off your ass and take that step forward and make things better yourself. All the people around you can offer you all the help that you need, but the most important thing is that YOU have to want to help yourself.

So that's all I am able to say for now. I do apologize if my thoughts are a bit discombobulated. I am still struggling to find my feet when it feels like I'm still drowning under pounding waves of darkness. If you've read this far, I appreciate you taking the time to read this.

Meanwhile, I hope you guys can continue to enjoy reading The Anatomy of Love. The chapter is not entirely to my satisfaction due to the last minute revisions I made, but I wanted a sprinkle of happiness in the moment. I think that's something we all need.

Also, thank you for the messages you have sent me and the comments you left. I'm truly sorry I do not have the courage or strength to respond, but please know I am forever grateful and touched that people would reach out to a stranger like me.

Hope to see you soon,

TCOOKIES

#a cookie speaks #the anatomy of love