#Hypothermia Machine

[mercury-healthcare]

Why Our Hypothermia Machine Is the Ideal Choice for Patient Care – Mercury Healthcare

  When it comes to providing effective therapeutic hypothermia treatment, choosing the right Hypothermia Machine is paramount. With several options available on the market, it is crucial to select a device that prioritizes patient safety, ease of use, and optimal outcomes. In this blog post, we will discuss the key reasons why our hypothermia machine stands out as the ideal choice for healthcare providers, ensuring the highest standard of care for patients in need of cooling therapy.

Precision Temperature Control:

Our hypothermia machine boasts state-of-the-art temperature control technology, enabling precise and accurate regulation of body temperature. Maintaining a stable hypothermic state is essential for effective treatment, and our machine ensures that the target temperature is consistently achieved and maintained throughout the cooling period. This level of precision minimizes temperature fluctuations, optimizing patient outcomes and reducing the risk of complications.

User-Friendly Interface and Intuitive Design:

We understand the importance of user-friendly equipment in a healthcare setting. Our hypothermia machine features an intuitive interface and ergonomic design, making it easy for medical professionals to operate. Clear and concise controls, coupled with a user-friendly touchscreen, streamline the cooling process, allowing healthcare providers to focus on delivering quality patient care. Additionally, the machine’s compact size and maneuverability enhance its versatility and ease of use in various clinical settings.

Advanced Safety Features:

Patient safety is our utmost priority, and our hypothermia machine incorporates advanced safety features to ensure a secure and controlled cooling environment. The machine is equipped with sophisticated temperature sensors and alarms that promptly notify healthcare providers of any deviations from the desired temperature range. This proactive monitoring system helps prevent potential complications and enables immediate intervention, guaranteeing patient safety throughout the cooling therapy.

Customizable Treatment Options:

Every patient is unique, and their treatment requirements may vary. Our hypothermia machine offers a range of customizable treatment options, allowing healthcare providers to tailor the cooling therapy to individual patient needs. Adjustable temperature settings, duration of therapy, and other parameters can be easily modified, ensuring personalized care and maximizing the effectiveness of the treatment for each patient.

Seamless Integration and Data Management:

Integrating our hypothermia machine with existing hospital systems is hassle-free, thanks to its compatibility with electronic medical records (EMR) and data management software. The machine seamlessly integrates with hospital networks, enabling real-time data monitoring, automatic charting, and comprehensive documentation of patient progress. This integration streamlines workflow, enhances communication between healthcare providers, and facilitates accurate and efficient data analysis for improved clinical decision-making.

Conclusion:

Selecting the right hypothermia machine is crucial for delivering optimal patient care during therapeutic cooling treatment. Our hypothermia machine combines precision temperature control, user-friendly design, advanced safety features, customizable treatment options, and seamless integration with hospital systems. By choosing our machine, healthcare providers can ensure the highest standard of care, maximize treatment efficacy, and improve patient outcomes. Invest in our Medical Equipment Manufacturer hypothermia machine and experience the difference it can make in delivering exceptional cooling therapy for your patients.

[tillman]

3 am I have a headache so bad I cant sleep and I just want to think about how my own ocs biology works

[denovamedical]

https://denovamedical.com/

Top Refurbished Medical Equipment Manufacturer - Denova Medical

Explore Denova Medical, a leading refurbished medical equipment manufacturer dedicated to providing high-quality, cost-effective solutions for healthcare facilities. Explore our extensive range of reliable and affordable medical equipment to meet all your healthcare needs. Visit us at https://denovamedical.com/ to learn more.

[arolesbianism]

Starting a new oni save that's not a rime colony for the first time in forever and I am in agony how do y'all live like this (shaking and crying as it is forced to enter a mildly warm area for drekos)

[todays-xkcd]

Hypothermia of below 98.6 K should be treated by leaving the giant molecular cloud and moving to the vicinity of a star.

Fever [Explained]

Transcript Under the Cut

Treating a Fever

Fever/Treatment 38°C-40°C (100°F-104°F): Fluids, rest, normal doctor stuff 40°C-45°C: Hospital, advanced doctor stuff 45°C-100°C: Exit that steam cloud immediately 100°C-400°C: Stop, drop, and roll 400°C-500°C: Return to Earth from Venus ASAP 500°C-1,500°C: Please climb out of that volcano 1,500°C-5,000°C: Turn your tunneling machine around and come back up to the surface 5,000°C-6,000°C: No, the surface of the Earth, not the Sun 6,000°C-50,000°C: Wait, that's not the Sun. What star are you visiting? Come back right now. 50,000°C-20,000,000°C: At least stay on the surface of the star instead of diving down to the core 20,000,000°C-10,000,000,000°C: You know, you could've picked a normal star instead of one that's exploding 10,000,000,000°C or higher: I hope you're enjoying your visit to the Big Bang but you should really come back home immediately

[northgazaupdates]

My friend Suad is despondent. She and her family have been displaced since the IOF bombed their home in Gaza City nearly a year ago. They have eked out an existence in shelter centers, friends’ and strangers’ homes, tents, and even open streets. Her firstborn Khaled was born under IOF bombing, and has struggled with malnutrition for his entire life up to this point. They have been displaced over a dozen times, often barely escaping before their prior location was bombed. You can read more about this situation in our “#Suad Ahmad” tag, as Tumblr has inexplicably deleted Suad’s blog for the 4th time.

The bombing is almost constant, and the debris dust from the bombs is so omnipresent that little Khaled struggles to breathe. Contaminants in the air, water, and scarce supply of food cause him to break out in frequent rashes, which occasionally ally afflict Suad as well. Khaled also has a frequent fever caused by a chest infection for which there are little or no available antibiotics.

Khaled requires medications, doctor visits, and the use of specialized breathing equipment for medical treatment which can only be used when a kind stranger allows the family to power the machine with their solar panels. As an infant, he also requires diapers. Astonishingly, the price of diapers in Gaza has risen to over $50 USD for a small pack. Anyone who has ever spent time with a baby knows that babies require mountains of diapers. $50 barely buys a day’s worth in Gaza.

Additionally, this is going to be Khaled’s first winter, which means he has no winter clothes of any kind. There are some winter clothes for infants for sale in Gaza, but they are extremely expensive. Khaled is sick and also suffers from malnutrition, making him more vulnerable to the elements. Winters in Gaza are wet, windy, and cold, and this past winter saw the deaths of many infants and young children due to hypothermia.

Suad has been running a campaign to support her family’s evacuation for several months, but progress has been sporadic. The evacuation costs are exorbitantly high, and the cost of hopefully beginning their lives anew in Egypt will be extremely high also. In the mean time, Suad requires mutual aid for food, water, medications, winter clothes, doctor visits, diapers, and transportation.

This little boy deserves everything. He deserves to only know joy, to learn and grow in safety and health. He was born into a world which is largely neglectful of his suffering. Please be the exception. Please help this little boy and his family survive in a world that has turned its back on them.

Thank you❤️

Link to support Khaled, Suad, and their family

[luveline]

𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐨𝐥 𝐢𝐟 𝐢 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝? | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧

Eddie asks you out on your very first date, indulging you in huge philly cheesesteaks, a vanilla milkshake (with two straws), a largely neglected bucket of popcorn, and a sugary first kiss. requested here. shy fem!reader, 3.2k

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

I'm actually going to die here, you think morosely. 

This was a very bad idea on your part, and perhaps a worse one on his. What possessed Eddie —ripped jeaned, silver-chained, aspiring heavy metal rockstar Eddie— to ask you on a date? Perhaps you'd appeared more formidable outside of Hawkins library than you usually did.

You were in a particularly bad mood after a chilly fall afternoon spent checking the quality of the returns, and the prospect of walking home in the cold was a dismal one. You'd been glaring at nothing when a big, hulking bucket of a van slowed to a crawl beside you, thumping bass leaking from the closed window. It rolled down, the music quieting with it, and out came a head of inky dark curls. 

"Hey, sweetheart," Eddie said, pet name rolling around in his mouth, "you heading home? Do you want a ride? It's a long walk." 

Somewhere between the library and your driveway, Eddie asked you on a date. You genuinely can't remember what you talked about or how it happened, your adrenaline high enough you could've used it to climb Everest. You do remember the quiet way he'd asked, as though he was waiting for an impending rejection, and his smile bordering goofy when you breathed out, "Yeah, okay." 

You rub at the seam of your cream sweater over and over, the pad of your thumb numb. The wind runs through you, ruffling the skirt of your black dress against your thighs. I'm an idiot, you think. Hypothermia might kill you if your racing heart doesn't. 

Eddie holds a similar sentiment, "What the fuck are you doing out here?" 

You flinch embarrassingly hard. He wasn't there a moment ago. Eddie cusses and holds his hands out to you before you can slip backward off of the low brick wall you'd been waiting on, his fingers shooting tingles down into the epidermis of your skin like wild golden sparks where they grab you, hoisting you up into a more secure standing position. 

"Fuck, I'm so sorry. Like, really really sorry, I didn't mean to scare you, just– it's like, minus ten out here? What are you doing?" 

"I–" You give him a more petrified look than you mean to. "You said to meet you here?" 

Does he not want you here? Was it a joke?

Eddie laughs out of the side of his mouth like he's holding a cigarette between his lips. "Well, yeah, but I meant inside. I've been waiting for you at the table." His amusement dissipates as he feels the chill emanating from your clothes. "Jesus, I'm sorry. Are you ready to come in?" 

Minus ten was dramatic. It's a solid 30 Fahrenheit, but the cold wind makes it feel colder. As soon as you enter the diner you're warm, heat nibbling at your fingers as the blood starts to pump. Eddie takes you to the side of the restaurant away from the noise of the games machines and the bathrooms, slipping into a booth where a worn paperback book is waiting. 

"I left that in case someone decided to steal our table." 

"What if they stole your book?" you ask, sliding into the booth seat opposite. 

"They'd love it," Eddie says. He leans forward with a mischievous air about him. "It's about a bullied teenage girl who loses her shit and gets psychic powers. I think she's gonna kill someone." He blinks. "Not that that's cool." 

"It's just a book, right? You're not a murderer."

You wonder why the fuck you'd say something like that, but he nods his agreement breezily. "Exactly." 

"Plus," you add, eager to say something he'll like, "it's hard not to root for the underdog." 

His smile twitches with an emotion you can't name. "Exactly," he says again. 

A waitress with thick rings of eyeliner comes to take your order. She has a sunny attitude, like Eddie in that way, an exterior some might say was intimidating and a bright smile. You're nervous from the get go and you have a cliche worry, watching Eddie interact with her from the corner of your eye. 

"For you?" she asks you. 

You stammer. What you'd thought about on the walk here this evening can be pinpointed into two simple lines of inquiry —what should you say to Eddie, and what should you say to the waitress. Shy to the point of aching, you'd rehearsed your order ten times, but all that comes out is hot air. 

"Um," you say, wishing you'd paid more attention to what Eddie said rather than how he looked at the waitress, "could I have, uh. Just the same? As he had, please." 

"Are you sure?" Eddie asks, nothing but patience in his tone. "Do you like pink lemonade?" 

You don't want anything carbonated tonight, nauseous enough. "Um, the same but with water instead, please." 

The waitress writes a short sentence with a big flourish. "Water," she reads, giving you and Eddie each a glowing smile. "No worries, I'll bring your drinks right out, food in twenty at most."

"Thank you," you and Eddie say together, in starkly different tones. 

Eddie waits for her to leave before he shucks off his jacket. He puts his elbows on the table and runs his knuckles up and down the length of the opposite forearm, smudging the whorls of his inky tattoos, the skinny silver chain around his wrist catching the light. "You know, I don't mind doing the talking, if you don't want to." 

You can't describe the embarrassment that bites at you, then. "It's– I'm sorry, I just couldn't think of what I wanted–" 

"I'm sorry," Eddie interrupts. "I should've told her to come back in a minute, I didn't give you chance to read the menu. I swear that's the only time I'll make a dick move tonight." 

You cough. He grimaces, teeth sinking into the pink of his bottom lip as he laughs it off. "Not like that. Or, not not like that. No dick moves," he says, "I just wanted to talk to you over a table rather than that pillar of a desk in the library." 

"It's a really tall desk." 

"It's so tall! I get that they want us to have somewhere to put the books but they have to go down to you guys anyways when you stamp 'em." 

"I don't know what the idea was behind them," you say. 

"Maybe they hired a bunch or very small librarians initially," Eddie says. He spies the waitress approaching with your drinks and leans back to accommodate her. He thanks her, but as soon as she leaves he's staring at your tap water with critical eyes. "It looks a little cloudy. You want my lemonade, instead?" 

"No, it's okay," you say, though drinking it feels like a bad idea. There's a whirlpool of scum at the top like clouds circling a mountain peak, ice cubes drifting in slow laps beneath. 

"I can take it back–" 

"Please don't," you say, "I'd be so embarrassed, it's only water." 

"I get you. Maybe I can get you something else, then. I'd say we should get hot cocoa but it's weird having hot cocoa with cheesesteaks." Eddie knocks the table. "I'm really sorry I asked you here." 

Your heart could be likened to a balloon popped by a sharp pin. You knew he'd regret asking you, knew it was too good to be true–

"We should've gone somewhere nice. Like Enzo's or Bullock's. Hey, we even could've gone into Indianapolis. And I have to say sorry double 'cos I should've asked you if I could give you a ride, I really messed it up." 

"It's not messed up," you say. "It's not." 

Eddie smiles at you, his most stripped back to date. 

Things are awkward and you theorise that it's your fault, but Eddie doesn't let you flounder in it. He asks questions, he says kind things. You have no choice but to relax and laugh at his ill-conceived jokes. You almost choke on your sub and he goes as far as to say, "Hey, you even make choking look good," having leapt up to pat your back. It's too much but it's weirdly nice at the same time. It's almost worth dying if it means Eddie's gonna rub your back with a big, unflinching hand. 

He wanders off when he's sure you're alive and you catastrophize: choking is far from attractive. He saw the way your nose wrinkled and your jaw went soft in your coughing and jumped ship. You dab the tears (from choking, though they could change at any moment) away with a napkin, sniffling. Your throat hurts and your sandwich doesn't look as appetising now. 

"Here," Eddie says, placing a tall glass in front of you grandly. 

"What is it?" you ask, though it could only be one thing. 

"Vanilla milkshake. Benny uses full fat cream, it's basically ice cream and nothing else. Is that okay?" 

You take a sip through a red and white striped straw without answering, the cold soothing your raw throat. A second straw stabs you in the cheek. 

"That ones for me," Eddie jokes. 

You swear you're gonna catch fire, putting the milkshake down with a thunk. "Oh," you say. 

"I'm kidding," he says. 

"No, I mean, if you want to share–" 

You're offering in the interest of being polite, but the look on Eddie's face reminds you of the more romantic connotations. "You sure?" he asks. 

You could say no. "Yeah. Of course." 

Between sips, you talk. Your conversation begins to feel like the unwinding a tight knot, unravelling defences you were unaware of, like a tapestry you never agreed to shaken out. Sure, you're shy, but you're interesting, and you have things to say. Eddie's eager to hear them; he won't stop pulling on the thread. 

Your throat tickles intermittently with scratchy pain. Eddie tucks a rather lustrous curl behind his ear, exposing a small stud earring and a hoop behind it. 

"I never noticed you have your ears pierced," you say, leaning forward to take another sip. 

Eddie pulls his straw from the glass to hit at yours teasingly, the slope of his eyebrows arching steeper. "Then you should look at me more often," he says. He stabs his straw into the glass and meets your eyes. To the outside observer, you're sure you look like partners getting gooey. "Notice anything else new?" 

Your pulse tangles in on itself, a snag in the thread. "Um, well…" You glance over his pale cheeks, their gentle caress of freckles. "You have freckles… and," —there, nestled between his lashes like a tiny dotted star— "a beauty mark under your eye." 

He doesn't smile, but some sweet softness plays in his eyes, his lashes kissing as they close ever so slightly. "You're prettier up close," he says quietly. "I didn't think you could get much prettier, but I've never been this close before, I guess." 

You take another sip to avoid further mortifying yourself with a stammering answer, but Eddie has a similar idea, leaning in. More awkward to pull apart, you share your drink and try not to bump his nose. The drink slurps and crackles as you finish it off together. Sitting back with twin smiles, awkward and flushed and not knowing what else to say, you fluster. There's a lot of stuff you want to ask him, but now he's finished his food and the milkshake is empty, you might not have time.

"Did you, like, wanna catch a movie or something?" Eddie asks, sounding for a second not quite as confident as he appears. 

You like metalhead Eddie, but you're starting to love this earnest version of him too. 

"Yeah, I'll see a movie with you," you say quickly. 

"Yeah? I know that's weird to plan more date in the middle of the date, I'm not trying to pressure you." 

"I've never been on a date before, so. This is setting the precedent." 

"The precedent," he says. "For future dates?" 

Is he hopeful? You open your mouth without thinking. "With you." 

His lips purse to one side, tamping down a big smile. Your cheeks hurt from how much you've smiled tonight. Is it always like this? Being with someone, dating, is it always unnervingly pleasant? You're eager to find out, and Eddie's eager to show you. 

"Let me go track down our waitress and we can probably get to the Hawk before the seven thirty," he says, clambering sideways out of the booth. 

You and Eddie are fifteen minutes late for a slasher movie, but you get there. Dark, two lone seats at the back are your only options, and you cram into them together with a frankly ridiculously huge bucket of popcorn to share. Eddie keeps whispering even when it's quiet and ticking off your rowmates, but he's being so sweet on you that you forget where you are. You forget to worry about what people are thinking. 

It's bliss. 

"Look at that," Eddie says, a handful of popcorn to his lips. "Ew, that's bloody. Shit, sweetheart, don't look at that." 

Sweetheart. "What do you think that is?" you whisper. 

"The fake blood? Isn't it pig's blood?"

"Is that legal?" 

Eddie almost drops the popcorn as something super gross happens, a silver flash and a spray of sticky orange movie blood coating the protagonist. "Holy fuck," he says, much too loudly as he puts the popcorn in your lap and covers your eyes. 

You laugh in surprise, "Woah, wait a second!" 

Someone shushes you loudly (and deservedly) from the row in front. 

"Sh, we're at the movies!" Eddie whisper-shouts. "Don't be inconsiderate." 

You peel his hand from your eyes. It doesn't drop entirely, long fingers slipping slowly down your cheek, turning your face to his. He's close, the nature of the small seats and your low conversation, his skin glowing with a red-pink and dappled white as the movie plays to your left. 

"Can I kiss you?" he whispers. 

On the walk to Benny's, your mind had drifted to the fantasy of a kiss. Eddie and his hands, the small silver bands of his rings and their heavier signets, how he'd offer to drive you home, walk you to your door, and peck you chastely in goodbye. He'd smell like his cologne that you tend to notice when he returns his borrowed books on Saturday mornings, chamomile and something deeper you've never been able to identify, no matter how long he stood there chatting. His lips would feel solid and cold from the weather, and here's where you stopped yourself from thinking any further, blood rushing to your wind-bitten cheeks. 

It's not so simply condensed, here. 

"I've never kissed anyone before," you whisper. 

"I'll have to set a good precedent, then," he says, rubbing the hollow of your under eye tenderly. "Or you can say no. That's okay, too."

You shake your head, "I want you to." 

The eagerness that's been simmering behind his eyes all night rears as he ducks in for a kiss. It's not what you're expecting, but it isn't bad; it's lots of things, his hand on your face and your elbow, your hands vying for him in startled delight, the popcorn between your knees tipping dangerously to the side as your lips give under his. 

He doesn't smell like chamomile at first, but hairspray. He presses against the seam of your lips and only as they part, forcing you to suck in a breath through your nose, do you smell it on him, close now. The cologne must linger on his shirt. 

He pulls away to shush you gently but urgently, Don't get us kicked out, it seems to say. 

And he's kissing you again. Nothing heavy, charged all the same, the barest taste of sweet popcorn shared between you. His hand does half the work, the tracing of his fingertips and the soft line they draw as he slots them behind your ear puttyifying you, like jelly in his warm palm. You make an unsure sound and he pulls away a second time, sugary brown eyes widened in concern.

"Bad?" he whispers. 

"Am I doing it right?" you ask. 

The concern becomes adoring. You feel like you've been injected with manic butterflies, having a guy like Eddie looking at you like that. "You're doing it super right," he says, so quietly you can barely hear him. "I'd tell you practise makes perfect 'cos I'm dying to do it again, but it was already perfect. You lying to me?" 

"No, of course I'm–" 

"I was kidding," he says, his side pressed heavily to the back of his chair as he drops his hand to your elbow casually.

"Oh. I knew that." 

He pats your arm, sympathetic, a tad condescending but he's hot enough to get away with it like this, lips kissed rosy and a glossy black curl falling into his eyes. 

You look down at his lips. Eddie doesn't make you beg, but he does gesture you forward, your hand landing atop his thigh as you angle up for another kiss. It's unlike you, but it's such a rush of feeling, you don't give your hokey-pokey brain time to consider the things you'd usually worry about. 

That being said, you pause just before your lips connect. You close your eyes too hard, head listing to the side self-consciously. 

Eddie must see it, whispering reassurances with a rough scratch, "Hey, it's okay. You can kiss me. You worry a lot for such a pretty girl, you know that?" He takes your hand. "Don't overthink it." 

"I can't," you say. 

"Take the night off. Let me worry…" His breath fans over your lips. "I'll take the lead," he suggests, closing the short gap between you. 

Your hand goes limp in his. 

—

The flowers are delivered to your desk sometime in the mid-afternoon. Pearly white lilies with green spots creeping toward the soft edges. Your chest yawns open and your lips curl into a smile like you've been hooked, rubbing a thick petal between your thumb and your forefinger. 

There's a long note folded and tied to one of the stems. 

Y/N, 

I am so, so sorry. So sorry. I am the sorriest boy who has ever lived, and I would love to make it up to you. Please call me when you get the flowers and tell me if they're a sufficient apology, or don't call me and I'll send you more. I know you said it was fine, but still.

Yours, Eddie Munson. 

P.S. did the flashlight guy have to be that mean? He pretty much blinded us with that thing. And did he have to make fun of my jacket? 

P.P.S I promise I will get you unbanned from the Hawk. Best date ever, yeah? 

You'll call him. Getting kicked out was a joint effort, after all, and you really want him to kiss you dizzy again, even if you found it hard to look at him on the drive home.

Maybe if he kisses you enough, you'll forget how it felt to be shepherded out of the movie theatre like a common criminal. 

You drop the note between the pages of your current read with a sigh. "Best date ever," you say. 

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank you so much for reading! i really hope you enjoyed ♡ if you did, please considering reblogging, it means the world and makes a difference :D 

[pseudowho]

Nanami Kento is the Cold Anger aesthetic; Mr.Frosty, "You-know-what-you-did-wrong", not angry just disappointed, Target-Infiltrate-Destroy, silent but deadly, won't raise his voice so you'll have to be quiet to hear it, cool and sarcastic, malicious underground subversion against the machine

💀 CAUSE OF DEATH: Hypothermia

Higuruma Hiromi is the Hot Anger aesthetic; fiery outbursts, "I'll-tell-you-what-you-did-wrong", white hot fury, Molotov-Cocktails, hear him yelling in his office from the corridor, hot and bitter seething, ARSON, rage against the machine

💀 CAUSE OF DEATH: Third-degree burns

And...these two aesthetics are Besto Friendos

Neat Suit/Messy Suit aesthetics

Get Up! Fighter/Stay Down! Fighter aesthetics

City-Skyline Penthouse/Converted-Factory Penthouse aesthetics

[lovers-rck]

a guide to (not) sleep

pairing ellie williams and fem. reader

this is something new im trying out. it happens in the tlou universe (meaning: there is an apocalypse happening, but it's not the *main* theme) with some changes like ellie and abby not trying to kill eachothers everytime. wow, the magic of fanfiction!!

the original idea was to do a big long fic but i wanted to do a short version first to test the waters and see how is welcomed.......... so if you like it you can tell me by commenting, reblogging or whatever you want!!!

also the title is the first thing that came to mind so maybe i will change it later? i don't know yet.

ok too much talking. goodbye. enjoy.

☆

love isn't for ellie.

she tried, and tried and tried; it never worked for her.

riley was the first one, but we don't talk about her.

then it was cat; she had short hair, a face sprawled in freckles and a cool gun tattoo machine. ellie and cat lasted a good 3 months.

after cat, dina appear. her big smile and nasty jokes was what got ellie walking on walls for weeks before she had the courage to talk to her, and when she did, they matched perfectly, or that was what ellie wanted to think.

dina was perfect; funny, kind, beautiful, and all the good things, but ellie was not, and that was the problem; they didn't match with certain.... qualities.

that and the fact that jesse was crushing hard over dina.

so that was ellie's panorama; with two (three) failed relationships, she began to accept that maybe -just maybe- love wasn't for her, and that she had to take care of the things she was good at, like killing clickers; riding shimmer; critiquing joel's coffee, among other mundane things.

the months passed, jackson's ice froze and thawed, shimmer's shiny fur revealed among the tiny snowflakes melting in the first warm temperatures after a long, hard - too hard, if you ask her- winter in that new society.

the pages of ellie's journal absorbed every drop of ink that swore how in a world like that there was no place for love, with pretentious adjectives that ellie once read in an old dictionary that maria gave her as a birthday present and has already forgotten the meaning. page after page, clotted ink and textured paper bore witness as ellie swore, with all his life, that dina was the last shot, the last bullet left in that gun, and that ellie had wasted it.

but then you showed up.

ellie began to notice how her body unconsciously gravitated towards yours, seeking your accidental touch and your comforting closeness; ellie sometimes fantasized that it was the lack of vitamins in her body, the last traces of hypothermia showing up in her immune system provoking little hallucinations.

she doesn't know if it was the effects of the poor quality of care she was taking of herself, or if it was something else, but it was enough for ellie to consider that maybe - just maybe - her gun had one more bullet available; one more attempt, timidly hidden among the barn sawdust and tree leaves, waiting to be used.

that and you were fucking fun to be around.

"so, abby came and she hug me by surprise" you say, laughing and smiling at the memorie "i was so scared. i thought it was a clicker"

ellie nods, thinking who the fuck abby is. she doesn't know if she wants to know.

"that's fucked up" is the only thing ellie utters. abby? is abby that red haired girl that is in charge of the improvised supermarket at the end of the -again- improvised street? no. that can't be her.

"right?" you say, eating a piece of cake that ellie did or did not steal from the birthday of her neighbor "i told her that"

ellie ate a piece of it too. she didn't know how cakes tasted before the apocalypse, but she thinks this is okay.

"so what did she say?" ellie asks.

you shake your head, sucking your index finger, wiping off the frosting "she laughed"

maybe it was that girl you taught to ride last month. ellie remembers you said it was a lot of fun.

but what kind of riding were you talking about?

"so who is abby, anyways?" ok. easy. that was good, ellie thought. no one could ever suspect anything.

you looked at her for a second, an expression that ellie couldn't decipher but quickly faded.

"uh... remember that girl who killed two clickers at once on patroll? like, she choked them with her arms at the same time and knocked them down?" you say, the beginnings of your eyebrows coming together in a frown, looking at ellie.

oh, she remembers. she remembered very well.

"mhm, no, not really" ellie acts nonchalant, looking at her short and damaged fingernails.

"she has a braid, a blonde braid" you say, recalling

ellie purses her lips, shaking her head slowly "mh, no, i don't remember her"

she remembers. she remembers so vividly how envy consumed every bone in her body when she heard that news, seeing how your eyes widened in surprise and your smile widened so wide it reached your ears as you listened to the great deed that this abby had done, telling that story like she just found the cure; ellie wanted to roll her eyes so bad.

"dude!" you say, holding out your arms "muscles? like, very big ones?" you ask and ellie shakes her head once again.

"mm, no, sorry, i don't think i know her" ellie mumbles and has to restrain herself from snorting.

"well, whatever" you say "the thing is, i thought i was gonna die right and there"

ellie nods again, and her body slams into the mattress of her bed.

today was a rest day. jackson was resting quietly, some patrols were coming in and out frequently, absurd patrols to just kill the time and pretend to do something productive.

the town was having a good run the last few days, the amount of clickers around the area had almost halved, the injured people had been cured, and while food wasn't in short supply, it wasn't alarmingly scarce either, and that was something to celebrate at times like these.

it was a quiet day in wyoming.

so you and ellie were trying to kill time before getting back to the routine, and the hours seemed to be ticking away.

ellie was too proud of her room; it was comfortable, warm, and hers. on the walls were posters of savage starlight that joel kept getting for ellie on his patrols, warm christmas lights taped up, polaroid pictures with the image too faded from the sunlight coming through the window, sketches and chords of songs.

you loved ellie's room, you thought it was the coolest thing on the planet.

"you going for a nap?" you say, putting the cake away.

"uh, i don't know, maybe?" ellie murmurs, rubbing her face "i don't know what else to do. i'm bored."

"yeah, i could do a nap too" you say "I'm a bit tired"

ellie nods, a bit dissapointed that you go away so early, but she finds herself surprise when you grab her blanket and accommodate yourself in her bed.

ellie will have looked at you for a long time before you feel her eyes on you.

"uh, it's okay if i stay here?" you murmur, looking at her and ready to run away if she tells you to.

ellie finds herself in a trance that forces her to come to her senses as fast as she can "yeah, yeah" she says.

"are you sure? you don't seem so sure"

ellie wants to slap herself on the face.

"no, please, stay. you can stay if you want" she spoke, and regrets immediately by how needy she sounded.

you giggle and nod, curling up against one of her many pillows, the blanket resting on your body like a marble sculpture of a veil "thank you ellie" you smile slightly "have a good nap".

ellie can't seem to find the words so she turns over, afraid to move to much to the point that her bones will fall out of her body as she feels you so close. ellie can feel, hear, how your breathing slows down as the minutes pass, becoming calmer.

she doesnt know how much time passed on, but ellie feels her body take on a cold temperature, so she does what anyone would do; she reaches for the blanket to cover herself.

but she brushes against your body.

ellie's hand, as clumsy as her owner, accidentally brushes against your body as she reaches for the blanket. she doesn't know which part of your body it was, and she has the feeling that it's better this way.

ellie has never been with a woman. oh, well, maybe she is lying because she has, in fact, been with cat, but that was just a few touches right and there, more curious than desirous, nothing too affectionate to make an impact on ellie. but the thing is, she has never been with a woman, never slept with a woman.

like, really sleep, rest, take a nap, rest your eyes -as joel often says-

it was something so intimate that ellie had never been able to do with anyone. it was the moment where she was the most helpless, the most adrift, the most vulnerable. the time where all her baddy personality destroys itself to show her true self.

so ellie thinks, thinks, thinks, thinks and thinks but there is only one question that keeps coming up in different formulations, but it always remains the same:

how is ellie williams going to sleep with you next to her?

[mercury-healthcare]

Medical Equipment Manufacturer and Supplier in India

   In the field of healthcare, the quality and reliability of medical equipment play a vital role in delivering effective and efficient patient care. Mercury Healthcare, a leading Medical Equipment Manufacturer and supplier in India, has emerged as a trusted name in the industry. With its commitment to excellence, innovation, and customer satisfaction, Mercury Healthcare has been revolutionizing the healthcare landscape in India. In this blog post, we will explore why Mercury Healthcare is renowned for providing the finest quality medical equipment in the country.

Commitment to Quality: Mercury Healthcare is dedicated to producing medical equipment of the highest quality standards. The company adheres to stringent quality control processes at every stage of manufacturing, ensuring that all products meet international quality benchmarks. By using advanced technology and robust manufacturing practices, Mercury Healthcare ensures that its equipment is reliable, accurate, and durable.

Wide Range of Products: One of the key strengths of Mercury Healthcare is its extensive portfolio of medical equipment. The company offers a comprehensive range of products, including diagnostic equipment, surgical instruments, patient monitoring systems, imaging devices, and much more. Whether it’s a small clinic, a large hospital, or a research facility, Mercury Healthcare caters to the diverse needs of the healthcare industry.

Cutting-Edge Technology: Mercury Healthcare stays at the forefront of technological advancements in the medical field. The company invests in research and development to continuously improve its products and introduce innovative solutions. By integrating the latest technology into their equipment, Mercury Healthcare ensures accurate diagnoses, efficient treatments, and improved patient outcomes.

Customization and Personalization: Understanding that different healthcare facilities have unique requirements, Mercury Healthcare offers customization and personalization options. The company collaborates closely with its clients to understand their specific needs and tailor the equipment accordingly. This approach not only enhances the user experience but also optimizes workflow efficiency in healthcare settings

Compliance with Standards: Mercury Healthcare strictly adheres to national and international regulations and standards for medical equipment manufacturing. The company follows Good Manufacturing Practices (GMP) guidelines and holds certifications such as ISO 13485:2016, ensuring that their products meet the highest quality and safety standards. This commitment to compliance instills confidence in customers, making Mercury Healthcare a trusted partner in the healthcare industry.

After-Sales Support and Service: Apart from manufacturing top-quality medical equipment, Mercury Healthcare places great emphasis on Hyper-Hypothermia Machine after-sales support and service. The company provides comprehensive technical assistance, training programs, and regular maintenance services to ensure the smooth functioning of the equipment. Their prompt and efficient customer service team is always ready to address any queries or concerns.

Conclusion: Mercury Healthcare stands out as a premier medical equipment manufacturer and supplier in India due to its unwavering commitment to quality, innovation, and customer satisfaction. With a wide range of products, cutting-edge technology, customization options, and adherence to stringent standards, Mercury Healthcare has earned the trust of healthcare professionals across the country. By choosing Mercury Healthcare, healthcare facilities can be assured of acquiring the finest quality medical equipment that contributes to delivering superior patient care.

[whumplists]

Dead Boy Detectives Whump List (Charles and Edwin)

The fact that they're ghosts is whumpy on its own, but this show really delivers :')

List 1:

Charles

1x1- briefly choked/in a fight, hit with iron cane 1x3- lots of emotional whump, crying, opens up about past abuse, hit by ghost, frozen, worried friends, trapped in a loop (long story) 1x4- forced to relive his death (hypothermia/internal bleeding), beaten by his father 1x6- almost killed by teeth face 1x7- flashback to his death 1x8- kidnapped, chained up in iron, burned by iron repeatedly, hit in the face/knocked down, emotional whump

List 2:

Edwin

1x1- in a fight, burned by iron, flashback to his death (tied down, sacrificed to a demon), emotional whump, falls, worried Charles, hit with iron cane 1x2- held captive by cat king, under spell, worried friends 1x6- betrayed, almost killed by teeth face, captured, worried Charles 1x7- trapped in hell, bleeding, scared, crying, rescued 1x8- kidnapped, chained down with iron, tortured by torture machine (hard to explain), screaming in pain, worried friends, lots of emotional whump, rescued by friends, crying

~More gifs~

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Ooo can I please request a drayton x reader, where the reader is really adventurous and reckless and is always putting themselves in harms way to have fun, despite his laid back personality, he absolutely worries about the reader, especially if they've been gone a long time, like bro just asks where they've been and why they disappeared for a couple days, and the reader was like oh, I was exploring with miraidon or practicing the new fly feature and training my team, bro was about to send out a search party for them lol. The rest of the BB league find it cute and amusing and poke fun of drayton, even though they were low key worried themselves. Oooft, sorry if this was a handful

Paldea, Kitakami, and the Terarium are all like huge playgrounds for you and your Pokémon...and oftentimes very dangerous ones at that.

As much as Drayton enjoys hearing about your adventures, he does show frequent concern about whether you're being careful or not while exploring.

But you're known for being quite the reckless trainer who loves taking risks and messing around all for the sake of "fun". And he gets it. He likes that carefree vibe you have.

It just worries him whenever you're gone for days at a time and nobody's heard from or seen you.

When you finally stop by the club room, Drayton asks where you've been and you'll say some shit like "oh I was bluetooth-ing my brain to my big pseudo-dragon legendary and beating up the local Dodrio population but I might've used the machine too long bc I got a killer migraine afterwards.......oh, and I flew up to that teraglobe thingy and found a cool bottle cap!"

"Sweet, that's worth a good----wait, how tf did you survive the trip up there???" He does the quickest double-take, shocked when you mentioned your 'raidon's new flying ability.

"Wanna take it for a spin?"

"...nah, I'll pass. I get motion sickness."

Lord help him if you're a shiny hunter.

You shared a story about the time you rushed headfirst into a Golurk outbreak zone on the steep slopes of the polar biome and damn near got hypothermia....

All because there was a slim chance that a different-colored one could be there and you wanted to catch it.

Man, and he thought Kieran was the crazy one...

Once, you got lost in the chargestone cave looking for a metal alloy for your Duraludon, and Drayton damn near sent out a search team (consisting of himself and all his dragons) to find you.

He's like "dude..if you wanted one you should've just asked".

"....but that's not as fun as risking life and limb to find it in the wild and wrestling with the nearby tera porygon for it :(("

As for the rest of the BB League, they're no strangers to your bizarre stories.

In fact they find it endearing how much Drayton worries about you or brings up your name during lunch.

Lacey and Amarys are the ones who usually tell him to chill, believing you're responsible enough and your Pokémon are strong enough to protect you....while Crispin's always like "I hope they don't forget to eat :O"

Then there's Kieran, who just looks at him like "hold on [y/n] did WHAT now????" and honestly getting a little jealous you didn't tell him those stories.

The one thing they can all agree on, though, is that he 100% has a crush on you...

But he denies it ofc.

[s-ublimewrites]

family pulled from the flood (melissa schemmenti x f!reader)

synopsis: melissa finally feels okay confronting that part of herself. as always, you're right there

words: ~1.5k

warnings: swearing, struggles with sexuality, alcohol, happy ending tho dw not unleashing full whump

note: as the resident gay friend, i've received the 'how did you know you like girls?' text so many times in my life. this is an homage to that - because i love it every damn time<3 title from the end of love by florence + the machine

Saturday nights, for you, are generally spent in a sea of your students' paperwork with a glass of whiskey in hand and an embarrassing amount of Wife Swap playing on the television. Tonight is no exception.

It's cold outside and freezing rain slaps against your window, making you shiver despite the warmth of your bedroom.

You're just about to take that first sip of amber liquid, eager to let the warmth settle you from the inside out, when a loud bang bang bang sounds from your front door. You take a few seconds to extract yourself from the vast expanse of Of Mice and Men analyses, and the knocking turns into frantic doorbell-ringing.

"I'm com- oh ow, fucking Christ," you swear, catching your ankle on the coffee table in your rush to stop your visitor from knocking your door down. "Coming! Be right there, hang on!"

You yank the door open, prepared to chew out your stupid fucking neighbor Gene for bothering you at 10 o'clock at night over parking, like, half an inch too close to his precious 2003 Ford Taurus.

The door swings open, though, and you're met with a shivering, soaked-to-the-bone redhead.

"Melissa?! The fuck are you doing here? Christ, woman!" You seize her by her leather jacket's soggy sleeve and yank her inside your apartment.

"Y'know," she shrugs, dripping icy water onto your hardwoods while she kicks her boots off, "was in the neighborhood."

You roll your eyes.

"Okay, you can tell me the truth after you've escaped hypothermia. Coulda shot me a text instead of freezing your ass off out there," you admonish.

You lead Melissa to your room, deposit her on your bed, and make a mental note to apologize to your students for the water-stained papers you'll have to return on Monday. Melissa picks at the skin around her thumbs while you root through your broad selection of sweatshirts.

"Didn't really plan on comin'," she says quietly, probably the quietest you've ever heard her. "Went for a drive to clear my head, and, well... Then I was in your driveway."

When you obtain a sweatshirt and turn to look at her, she's looking at her lap. "What could have been bad enough to force you outta the house in this weather?"

Green eyes flick up to meet yours and she opens her mouth like she's going to answer, but then she points at the well-loved Flyers hoodie in your hands. "That for me?"

You decide to let it go for now and relinquish the sweatshirt with a nod. For good measure, you snag the whiskey glass off of your bedside table and press it into her free hand. "This, too."

Melissa's mouth quirks into a half smile. "Knew I ended up in the right place. Thanks, hon."

The nickname makes you warmer than the liquor ever could have.

You give her some privacy to change and use the opportunity to pour yourself (another) glass of whiskey. You then plant yourself on the sofa, knee bouncing anxiously.

Melissa is clearly struggling with something, something big. Something that really matters to her. And you're friends - friends go to one another with problems, right? Something about it nags at you, though. It feels bigger - like Melissa doesn't just want any friend; like she sought you out specifically. When was the last time you ever 'just ended up' in someone's driveway?

More importantly: when was the last time Melissa had an important problem and sought out anyone who wasn't Barb?

You don't have time to ponder that. Melissa emerges from your bedroom decked in black and orange, feet bare, glass in hand. Her damp hair is pulled back and her eyes are soft as she joins you on the sofa and tucks her feet up underneath her. When you pull the throw from the back of your couch and toss it at her, she ensures you both have equal halves draped over your laps.

Now that she's warm and settled, there's no avoiding the matter at hand.

"Melissa?" you keep your voice soft. You shift to face her and your knee nudges hers under the blanket, and she doesn't move away. In fact, she barely notices you at all. Her eyes are distant, her head propped up by her unoccupied hand, her teeth worrying at her lower lip.

"Mel," you try again, and this time she jerks her head toward you as if she'd forgotten you were there. "Mel, are you okay?"

"Yeah," she says too quickly, nodding, before pausing. "No. Kinda? I dunno, I just-"

Melissa Schemmenti exists in such a permanent state of bravado in your mind that it never occurred to you that it could be false. Your heart clenches and you fight the urge to take her face in your hands and remind her that she's perfect. Instead, you let the silence hang between you, giving her space to continue.

Melissa looks at you properly for the first time all night. Her voice wavers when she speaks. "How did you know that you're into girls?"

Oh. You don't know what you expected, but it wasn't that. You didn't allow yourself to hope it could be that.

"I was young," you start. "Middle school. I cried so hard that I threw up when my best friend started dating this kid in the grade above us. I wondered why I wasn't enough for her. Then I realized that maybe I had a crush on her. And I'd never been more terrified."

"What did you do?"

You snort. "Freaked out for another four years until my next best friend kissed me after junior prom."

She's quiet again. You've decided that Melissa's loudness is your favorite thing about her.

You swallow hard. "Are you... asking for a friend?"

Melissa gazes back at you, eyes watery and voice raw. "I'm askin' for me."

"Okay," you say, and she nods, and neither of you speak again for a little while.

You've gotten questions like hers before, from others. You usually know what to tell them, how to guide them through it, but this is Melissa. Her trust, so fragile, is cradled in your hands and you're terrified of making the wrong move, of cracking its thin shell.

"Tell me what you're feeling." You're asking for more trust and you know it. You hope your sincerity is evident enough that Melissa doesn't flee from the conversation altogether.

Melissa thinks for a moment, and you're patient.

"I feel so fuckin' stupid, Y/N," she admits, and the tears in her eyes spill over. You feel your own eyes fill at the sight. "Who makes it to my age and doesn't fuckin' know who they're into?"

When you scooch closer, she lets you. You both sit criss-crossed, facing one another, and your legs press up against hers.

"You are not stupid, Melissa," you say earnestly.

She rolls her eyes, and when her hand comes up to swipe angrily at her tears, you intercept it and weave your fingers into hers.

"You're not," you repeat. "Mel, something is telling me you didn't have an awful lot of people encouraging you to explore your sexuality throughout your life. It's okay that it's only happening now."

Melissa doesn't reply. Her eyes rest on your joined hands, on your thumb that traces light arcs over hers. But she's listening, so you continue.

"I'm really proud of you, Melissa," you tell her, and that makes her head snap up so she can meet your gaze.

"What? Why?"

"It's hard telling people at first," you explain, "and the first one is the biggest hurdle. But you did it, and I'm proud of you."

She swallows. "I feel like I can tell you anything and you're gonna make me feel better about it."

You squeeze her hand. "You can always tell me anything, Mel. What else do you need from me? How else can I help you?"

"Just... tell me it's gonna be okay. Tell me how super fun being gay is and that during pride we're gonna get super drunk and slash a cop car's tires or somethin'."

You grin. "Well, duh. We can also do that on alternating Tuesdays if you really want to."

Melissa finally laughs and it sets your heart alight. "Thanks, hon."

"It is going to be okay, Melissa. Just trust me on that one."

"I do," she says easily, "I trust you with stuff I haven't trusted anyone with in a long time."

"Like your family's sauce recipe?"

"Not in writing, but yes," Melissa confirms. "But with the big stuff, too. Life stuff."

You grin. "It's an honor and a privilege, Melissa Schemmenti."

There's this look in her eye, one you can't quite place. She sets her glass down on the coffee table and steals your glass to repeat the action.

Melissa all but crawls into your lap to hug you, and you happily let her. She relaxes most of her weight against you, forehead pressed against your shoulder. You dont mention it when you feel the collar of your shirt grow damp, you just let her sniffle against your t-shirt and smooth your hands over her back.

You both know there will have to be more to this conversation, but that can wait. For now, this is more than enough.

[hoe4rairai]

《 ♤ Scenario 3 ♤ 》

Shivering S/O in a cold night, Raian being considerably gentle and mindful or NOT 😈

〰️ Let's Gooooooo 〰️

🔸️🔸️🔸️🔸️🔸️🔸️🔸️🔸️🔸️🔸️🔸️🔸️🔸️🔸️🔸️🔸️🔸️

This is unorthodox Raian version ...

S/O is a hit woman. Both sometimes merge missions together, though Raian hates to be with her on missions. She has the power to distract the assassin. The only human who has that power . S/O is a fun sized girl whom he enjoys manhandling, and she loves it when he does.

A mission was assigned to them, both finished their part but something complicated their exit, and they were stuck in the lower deck of the corrupted millionaire yacht where they assassinated him and his entire crew. No electricity, it was one of those cold winter nights. The deck was cold and pitch black, Raian's vision is as sharp as a wolf in the dark but that's given being a kure, S/O settled next to her boyfriend's massive body frame. The cold started to creep up on her, and her teeth started chattering. She thought Raian was in a hibernating mode since his breathing is very steady and low, and that also is a kure survival technique. She moved closer, almost squeezing herself into him. She is cold, and he has a deep heat body machine. He didn't budge a muscle and she is trying to find any source of warmth to keep her going till the clan sends a rescue to pick them up, they are literally in the middle of the ocean.

A few hours passed, and she probably fell asleep. When she opened her eyes, she was positioned like a baby between his arms. Her head was resting on one arm , face snuggled between his arm and chest, legs curled up , his arms around her to offer her some more warmth.

They heard noises coming from the upper deck of the yacht.Raian and the rescue team usually have a sign code they communicate with. These ppl aren't them. Raian gestured to keep quiet. He literally glided on the floor, hard to believe such heavy man can be this light. The door cracked open, guns shooting , sound of bones breaking, blood splattering everywhere. Raian and his S/O teamwork and synergy is a top notch because they read each other's minds and work stimolysly.

No one left alive. Raian peaked at the horizon and spotted 2 boats approaching boats that didn't belong to the clan. Raian knew if they did not move now, they were doomed. He knew they would bomb the yacht. He grabbed S/O without a word or a second thought jumping right into the freezing water. The water was like daggers piercing her body, the coldness numbed her, Raian is trained and done that few times. He was ahead of her, breaking his way through the waves , she started to drown, Raian was calm , he knew the outcome and reminded himself : ( That's fuckin WHY I hate going on hits with you .. What a fuckin burden.) He pulled S/O, swam to the a nearby shore , fell on his back and she was unconscious laying next him, cold as ice. She was going through hypothermia obviously, he pulled her body quickly into a hidden spot, took off her clothes and his and basically used his entire body as a blanket to heat her's up.

A few long minutes till she opened her eyes, the heat she was immersed with felt so good, the chest moving ever so slowly against her's, Raian was literally wrapped around her like a skin cover. She strongly felt safe , warm, and kinda funky 😈. S/O made the slightest move to let him know she is awake and okay, thanks to him.

A low, hoarse lazy voice demand: stay put don't move, his cold breath was hitting her forehead. She wanted to warm him up, too, but she could only do this much. S/O started to run her hand gently, over his hairless chest and arms. He didn't mind, she then started rubbing his back slowly and gently creating warm fractions, he kinda enjoyed it, WHAT A FUCKING WEIRED COUPLE I SWEAR 😏...Her feet is warm now so she started to rub his thighs and Bingo ... ... WDF ...

His head titled downwards looking at her, black eyes piercing her soul, a deep voice comes out as a low growl : ( see da fuck you did, now ?? ) S/O blushed when she felt his hard errection tickling her abdomen. Both naked , both turned on and both in the middle of nowhere.

Raian, for the first time in his entire life, spooned. He hates the position because he thinks it's for old lazy bustards. He was lazy, though, trying to gain warmth and regenerate strength again. Raian, when he is vulnerable, can be without any arguments, the sexiest man alive.

Raian shifted his S/O body to the side her back facing him, her ass pushed backwards, allowing him to enter her from behind, hand grabbed her waist not too firmly but steady enough to control her body. He could not control his own growle when he met her heat its cold outside but fucking damn oven from the inside the feeling blew his mind, suddenly eagerness with each powerful thrust , suddenly Raian is back again fully charged. Fuck the cold , he is not getting out of her, he will knot her like a fucking beast time and time again till she collapses .

The next thing she knows, she is their bed again cuddled by her boyfriend,feeling cosy, safe, and probably pregnant.

** fanart belongs to the rightful owner

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

I have been rotating factory/industrial whump in my mind, but I can't find any prompt. can you conjure some?

whumpee with their hand stuck in a machine or a propeller — which led to caretaker having to fetch a makeshift tourniquet to stop the bleed, it could then lead to an on-field amputation.

whumpee getting trapped in a warehouse during the night, bonus if it’s dark inside and they’re afraid of the dark.

or, whumpee getting trapped in a warehouse during the night, with whumper or caretaker? your choice.

a malfunction occurred which caused the cold room (a walk-in-freezer)’s electric door to automatically shut and lock on its own, with whumpee trapped inside. caretaker and the team have to try to find a way to open the door in time before hypothermia causes whumpee’s body any permanent damage.

whumper stuffed whumpee inside a package box and sealed it as "a prank", they didn't know (or didn't care) whumpee was a claustrophobe.

chemical spilled. whumpee is exposed to it; the symptoms can be nausea, headache, blurred vision, fatigue, fever, shortness of breath, rash, burns — if you want to take it up a notch, you can add seizures, respiratory failure and/or internal hemorrhage as part of the symptoms.

[suzukiblu]

shiver, shudder or experience for the ask game?

"That doesn't make sense," the clone says as he gets to his feet in the tube and starts distractedly pulling off the genuinely alarming amount of machinery hooked up to him, looking puzzled. "The staff would be way harder to replace than me. They're, like, real people."

. . . Jon reconsiders the merits of the murder plan. Just, like . . . just a little bit. Just a touch.

"That is a logical conclusion to reach, given both the bias and inadequacy of the information that you have been presented with," Damian allows, and if Damian is actually being patient with somebody who is so objectively wrong in cold blood and without so much as a derisive aside or judgemental look, then Jon really doesn't want to know what's on that computer terminal. Like, holy shit, not ever. He'd like to keep some scrap of faith in humanity, thanks. "Counterpoint: the staff members do not deserve their lives."

"Please don't teach my baby brother that," Jon says, already resigned to spending the better part of the next decade getting that particular sentiment out of the kid's head. "Or my . . . baby uncle, maybe, I don't know. Maybe we'll just start with 'baby cousin' and go from there."

"Maybe he's your baby dad?" Jay suggests with a snicker.

The clone . . . blinks.

"I'm a clone," he says, looking perplexed.

"We know, kid," Jon says, wondering why the kid thinks that's currently relevant as he takes off his cape. Said kid is naked except for the last couple of machines and wires that he's still working his way out of, so yeah, it's definitely time to take off his cape and wrap him up in some basic decency. "Are you cold?"

"Dunno," the clone says, frowning consideringly. "What's 'cold' feel like?"

Jon, again, revisits the merits of murder. Just like . . . just a couple of them. That's all.

"I forget," he admits. "I kind of haven't been cold for a decade or so."

"I maaaaay kind of also forget," Jay says with a wince. "These days I tend to just reflexively stop being tangible when I start getting chilly, it's actually really inconvenient?"

"It is utterly inconvenient to be invulnerable to both freezing to death and the effects of hypothermia, yes," Damian says dubiously. "There are multiple degrees of 'cold', clone, but Superman is currently referencing a basic discomfort. Physical responses to it include goosebumps and shivering. A prickling sensation is not uncommon."

"Please stop calling him 'clone'," Jon says as it belatedly occurs to him that said clone does not speak Nightwing-ese and might be taking that the wrong way. "And 'it', while we're at it."

Also maybe he should stop thinking of the kid as "the clone" himself, come to think.

". . . you're Superman?" The kid frowns up at Jon skeptically. "You don't look like you look in my head."

Jon doesn't even want to understand that sentence.