#Real-Time Nurse Call System

[insufferablemod]

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[moonstruckme]

i don’t know if ur taking request right now, but I love ur writing so much!! I was wondering if you could do something with poly!marauders x reader? Where reader gives blood for the first time and the marauders either work there (maybe emt!marauders?) or are just there with her and reader is almost finish when she says that she isn’t feeling well and she almost passes out?? 👀 and then they all panic and comfort her??

Thanks for requesting angel!

cw: mention of blood, needle, basically everything you'd expect at a blood donation clinic + nausea and fainting

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

“First time?” Sirius asks as he ties a rubber tourniquet around your arm. 

You blink, looking away from the rows of chairs laid out beside you and back to him. “Sorry?” 

“Is this your first time donating?” 

“Oh. Yeah. How did you know?” 

Sirius—he told you to call him Sirius when you sat down, though at first you thought he meant the word serious—grins at you. He has dark hair tied in a messy yet startlingly chic chignon at the back of his head, his face seems chiseled from marble, and he’s one of the few people working the clinic today in paramedic uniforms instead of nurse’s scrubs. His attractiveness intimidates you, but his demeanor sets you at ease; it’s a real trial for your nervous system altogether. 

“You look a bit nervy,” he says.

“I don’t know why I am,” you laugh, nervously. “I’m not squeamish or anything, I just…haven’t done this before.” 

“That’s perfectly alright. A lot of first-timers are a bit antsy.” Sirius’ gloved finger begins prodding at the crook of your elbow, but his eyes are on you. “Get comfortable, darling. You’ll be grand.” 

You aren’t sure how, exactly, to get comfortable, but you try to settle into the plasticky chair. Sirius’ cheek apples like he appreciates the effort. He looks down at your arm. It feels oddly vulnerable, like he’s staring at the softest, most delicate part of you. You try not to think about it. 

“Alright, here we are.” He grabs his supplies from the table beside him, gaze flickering to you again. “You want to close your eyes, sweetness? I know you’ve said you’re not squeamish, but just in case.” 

You close your eyes, thinking that you’re more likely to anxiously vomit from him calling you sweetness than anything else. 

“Perfect. Okay, you might feel a little poke.” 

It is little, so little you barely feel it at all, but that doesn’t keep your stomach from hopping up into your throat. You take in a breath through your nose. 

“Doing alright?” 

“Mhm. Sorry, yeah.” 

“Nothing to be sorry for, gorgeous. Just let me know if you start to feel funny or anything.” 

Funny might describe the state of your head right now. Sounds seem to fade in and out, your focus slipping. You feel sure Sirius can see the sweat beading on your upper lip. 

But you stick it out, breathe steadily in and out your nose, and soon Sirius is telling you, You’re doing beautifully. Almost done.

Unfortunately, the next breath in comes with a rush of nausea. You feel like you should tell him. 

“Um,” you mumble, eyes still closed. 

“Yeah?” 

“I’m not…feeling…” 

The last couple of words get all tangled up in your tongue on their way out. 

“Hey. Hey, babe, you okay? Can you open your eyes for me?” 

You try. It’s like looking through fuzz. 

“James!”

You want to pick your head up and see what’s turned Sirius’ voice so urgent all of a sudden, but you don’t have the strength.

“Here she comes. You’re alright, love.” 

You make a small, humiliating sound as you rouse, made all the more humiliating by the way the voice shushes you gently. You remember where you are instantly, and wonder why you’re lying flat on your back on cool tile rather than sitting in the chair. 

The shushing voice isn’t Sirius’, either. 

“Can you open your eyes, please?” it asks. 

You do, somewhat reluctantly, subjecting your corneas to cruel fluorescent lights and the stare of the man above you. It’s a rather kind stare, really. Hardly fair to say you’re being subjected to it. 

“Hi there,” he says. “How are you feeling?” 

“Hi.” You look down your body, to where another man is sitting cross-legged on the floor, holding both of your ankles on his shoulder. “I’m…okay. What…?”

“You’re at the blood donation clinic,” the first one tells you. “You fainted.” 

“Oh. I’m sorry.” 

The man at your feet laughs. “That’s alright, babe. All in a day’s work, you know.” 

Not long ago, you remember feeling like all the blood was draining from your body. Now, you’re quite sure it’s returning to your face with vigor. 

“How long was I out?” 

“Not long,” the man by your head reassures you. “We only just managed to get you lying down when—” 

“Oh, good!” Sirius startles you, coming up from behind your head without warning. “You gave me a fright, gorgeous. I did tell you to say if you started feeling funny, didn’t I? I thought we had a repartee. How are you feeling now? Is Remus taking good care of you?” 

You blink. It appears your brain is still functioning at somewhat less than peak performance, and you struggle to keep up with all his questions. “I’m fine. I…I did try to say…” 

“It’s not your fault, love,” Remus says, covering the top of your head almost protectively with his hand. He gives Sirius a dry look. “We’re supposed to ask beforehand if you have a history of fainting.” 

“There’s no history to be had!” Sirius defends himself. “It’s her first time. Luckily, I have catlike reflexes in terms of sounding the alarm, and James was quick enough to catch her before she toppled out of the chair.” 

“Oh, first time.” The one who must be James gives you a sympathetic look. His thumb rubs over your ankle bone as though to comfort you. “I hope this hasn’t spoiled it for you, lovely. I’m sure it’s scary.” 

This doesn’t feel like the sort of thing you’re meant to reply to, but when both Remus and Sirius look at you with similar pitying expressions, you squeeze out a meek, “I’m okay.” 

“We’ll try to make sure you leave without too awful of an impression.” Sirius grins at you, squatting by your side. “We’re just gonna take it nice and slow, babe. How about sitting up to have a drink?” 

When you nod, Remus slips a hand behind your back, supporting you upright. James sets your legs down as he does. 

“Alright, any preferences?” Sirius begins lining up plastic bottles on the floor beside you. “Our bar is stocked with apple, orange, and grape juice and water.” 

“Ooh, he must really like you,” says James. “Normally he hoards the grape juice for himself.”

Sirius shoots his friend a nasty look, but he doesn’t deny it. 

[canideformed]

Trans men do not have male privilege because you cannot separate their trans identity from their male identity.

People love to say, “but they’re men and men are privileged!” as if you can just. Pretend they’re not also trans. Or they say that it doesn’t matter that they’re trans if they pass because people will just see them as men.

Just. Think it through. Think about what happens when the experiences of trans and cis men are compared at any systemic level.

1. A cis woman says that a cis man sexually assaulted her. The woman is told she is probably dramatic by the cops and the cis man isn’t impacted because all his friends are misogynists. People talk about how boys will be boys and how it wasn’t his fault, women wouldn’t understand men’s’ sex drives.

2. A cis woman outs a trans man and says he sexually assaulted her. The trans man is arrested and jailed (keeping in mind you can be arrested with no proof, only reasonable suspicion—such as an allegation) by cops who openly watch him pee because they wanted to get a look at a pussy on a man. He gets out and his friends hear through the grapevine that he’s trans. They laugh at and grope him the next time they see him and they ostracise him. People talk about how testosterone is such an evil chemical and how the trans guy is dangerous because he has a “female brain running on toxic male hormones.”

For another comparison—

1. A cis man goes in for a routine sexual health checkup—a prostate exam. It is quick, though awkward and uncomfortable. He later begins to feel ill. He sees a doctor who takes his symptoms seriously and treats him appropriately.

2. A trans man goes in for a routine sexual health checkup—a pap smear. He is stared at in the waiting room. The nurse calls “Ms.__” and is visibly confused when he stands up. The doctor isn’t educated on trans bodies and doesn’t use enough lube (or simply doesn’t care to) and it hurts. The doctor asks invasive questions about bottom growth and ignores the guys’ preferred terminology for his parts and his identity. The guy files an insurance claim that is denied because his legal gender is M. He has to either pay or try to deal with the company. He begins to feel ill. He sees a doctor who sees that he’s trans in his chart or spots the testosterone prescription or an old or legal name. The doctor tells him it’s probably the T without doing a proper exam and that T is dangerous for “females” and he should consider stopping.

Male privilege is systemic. It’s not just who the waiter looks at first when they take a dinner order. It’s men being protected by the system by other men in power. Trans men do not have that protection. The second a transphobe thinks a criminal might have been a trans man they start talking about how it was because his mind couldn’t handle the testosterone. (Remember when there was a rumour that a school shooter was transmasc?). They worry about him “tainting” cis women. Because he is trans, it means that people don’t even see him as man enough to be protected by the system. It is because he is a trans man and trans manhood is not respected as Real by the cistem.

Part of male privilege is having your voice believed and your autonomy respected. But trans men are told their pain isn’t real, that they’re being dramatic, that it’s their period or the T. Trans men are at risk for sexual abuse and fetishisation by cis people who might use a medical exam as an excuse to hurt or assault them. Trans men are not seen as a possible type of man, so insurance systems auto-deny sexual healthcare for trans men because “men can’t have that issue.” Part of male privilege is having your voice centred, and yet many conversations about abortion and access to birth control actively exclude trans men, because trans men are held personally accountable for the pregnancy, even when it’s rape. Cis men don’t experience anything like that.

And sure! The situations I laid out above don’t describe ALL trans men. But they also don’t describe ALL cis men or ALL cis women. The difference between cis men and trans men is that trans men, along with other gender minorities and cis women, are specifically targeted by oppressive patriarchal systems by virtue of both their trans and male identities.

It breaks my heart to see people tell trans men to ‘take accountability’ for their privilege when I hear all the time about trans men who are in jail for killing the person who was raping them, about trans men who were abused by police, about trans men who were tortured and murdered.

[favefandomimagines]

My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys (f.l)

Summary: Y/N discovers a secret that could cost her and Frank everything

Request: @soflowra hiiii!!! could i request a frank langdon x reader where she finds out about the benzos and kind of confronts him? (thank youuuu!!!)

AN: I took some creative freedom with this one lol

The hum of fluorescent lights was constant in the ER, like the white noise of chaos. Monitors beeped, patients groaned, and somewhere down the hallway, someone was yelling about a broken femur. Dr. Frank Langdon thrived in the noise. It kept his mind racing, his hands moving, and the darkness at bay.

Y/N stood in the doorway of Trauma 2, arms crossed over her chest, watching him work. The moment was so typical of him—snapping orders, trauma gown tied loosely around his body, a half-empty Red Bull undoubtedly nearby. Sarcastic, fast-talking, brilliant. God, he was brilliant.

She was on her way back to OB when he caught her eye and winked.

“Should’ve been a trauma doc, sweetheart,” he called out as he approached her.

She rolled her eyes, fighting back a smile. “Maybe in my next life.”

They’d been together for a year. It started just after his divorce—messy, public, and the talk of the hospital for months. She wasn’t trying to be anyone’s rebound.

But with Frank, it didn’t feel like that. There was something real underneath all his walls and caffeine highs. Something warm. Vulnerable. Something he’d given only to her.

She loved him.

But lately… something felt off.

It started with charts. She was covering for another doctor in General that week—odd, yes, but she liked to keep her skills sharp. While reviewing a patient’s post-op pain management plan, she noticed the dose of hydromorphone seemed high. Not alarmingly so—just… off. She shrugged it off. Maybe it was an attending’s call.

Then another chart. Then two more. All written up by Frank.

Each time, the dosage ordered was slightly higher than what the patient had been administered.

She brought it up casually while they were at the nurses station after another OB consult he paged her for.

“Hey,” she said softly, “you ever accidentally order the wrong dose on a discharge script?”

His eyes flicked to hers. “What are you talking about?”

“I just saw a few that looked a little high. From you.”

He didn’t blink. “Pain is subjective, right? I go by instinct. Better to have it and not need it.”

She nodded. But her stomach curled, tight and uneasy.

By the end of shift, she couldn’t ignore it anymore. Frank was still Frank, still sarcastic and lightning-fast, still showing up to every shift extremely over-caffeinated. But there were cracks.

When she ran out to his car to grab her jacket, she found an empty oxy bottle in his car’s cupholder. Not prescribed to him, no prescription on it at all.

It was nearly midnight when she decided. She stayed late after her shift, combing through the hospital’s prescription logs. She knew the system. She knew the way people tried to hide it. She also knew what to look for.

Her heart cracked as the pieces came together.

He was stealing. Masking it under the chaos of the ER. Signing off on more than what was used. Logging it as administered. And no one else had caught it.

Not yet.

She confronted him later that night in the on-call room.

Frank was sitting on the edge of the cot, sipping from a fresh Red Bull and scrolling through his phone like nothing was wrong. He looked up, grinned. “Hey, baby. Didn’t think you were on tonight.”

“I’m not,” she said quietly, shutting the door behind her.

He frowned at her tone. “Everything okay?”

“I know, Frank.”

His expression didn’t change. “Know what?”

“I know about the pills. I know what you’ve been doing.”

Silence fell. Thick and suffocating.

He stood slowly, the can in his hand shaking just slightly. “I don’t know what you think you know—”

“Don’t,” she said sharply. “Don’t lie to me.”

He swallowed hard. “Y/N…”

“You’ve been altering scripts. Signing off on meds that were never given. I checked the logs. You think no one would notice?”

“I’m not a junkie,” he snapped. “A junkie couldn’t do what I do every day. I run trauma codes, I intubate drunk driving victims with one hand and hold pressure with the other. A junkie couldn’t do that.”

Her chest rose and fell in a slow, controlled breath. “You’re addicted, Frank. That’s what this is. And I don’t care how steady your hands are or how many lives you save—you’re still stealing. You’re still lying. And if Abby finds out…”

That stopped him. The sound of his ex-wife's name leaving the lips of the woman he loved.

“She will fight you for custody,” Y/N continued, her voice cracking. “And she’ll win, Frank. You think the board will let you near narcotics again? You think a court’s going to hand your weekends with the kids to someone diverting benzos from their hospital?”

His jaw clenched, but he didn’t speak.

“This isn’t just about us,” she whispered. “You have kids, Frank. They didn’t ask for any of this.”

He turned away, his shoulders tight, head bowed like the weight of the room was finally crushing him.

“I know,” he murmured. “God, I know.”

She swallowed the knot in her throat. “You want to tell me you’re not a junkie, fine. But what happens when Abby finds out? When the hospital files a report? What happens when you have to look your kids in the eye and explain why Daddy can’t come around anymore?”

His breath hitched.

“I’m not trying to hurt you,” she added, softer now. “But this… this will destroy you, Frank. If you don’t stop it now.”

He didn’t say anything.

He laughed bitterly, running a hand through his hair. “You don’t get it.”

“Then help me understand.” she pleaded. “You lied to me, Frank. For months.”

He didn’t say anything.

“Why?” she whispered. “Why couldn’t you just tell me?”

Frank sat down again, burying his face in his hands. His shoulders shook, and for the first time since she’d known him, he looked like he might break.

“After the divorce,” he said finally, voice hollow, “I couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t eat. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her face. Everything I lost. And then the ER… it’s never-ending. One shift bleeds into the next. I needed to keep going. Just… keep going.”

She said nothing. Let him talk.

“So I started small. Just to take the edge off. Then I needed more. And I knew how to get it. Then we got together and you deserved more than the mess that I am.”

Y/N’s eyes burned.

“I’m not proud of it. I’m not… asking for forgiveness.”

She sat down beside him, but didn’t touch him. “So what now?”

He looked up at her, eyes red. “I’ll tell Dr. Robby. I’ll get clean. I swear. I just—” His voice broke. “I can’t lose you.”

She reached for his hand.

“Frank,” she said softly. “You need to get clean because you want to. Not for me. Not for this relationship. But for you.”

He nodded slowly, brokenly.

“But I’ll be there,” she said, “every step of the way. If you let me.”

He squeezed her hand. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Maybe not,” she whispered, “but you still have me.”

[dazedbythebolt]

"how the fuck do you know where I live?!" - (marvel) !

𖤓 parings: frank castle x paramedic!reader

𖤓 warnings: paramedic talk, blood, injuries, breaking in, brief knife mention, etc

𖤓 summary: You'd think being a paramedic in Hell's Kitchen was dangerous enough, but will a surprise call for the retrieval of The Punisher be enough to shake you out of your skin? Or maybe him coming to find you just might be the cherry on top.

𖤓 word count: 3.7k

𖤓 a/n: hehe had to make a story for my bae. also sorry if the writing is inaccurate! I tried to do at least a little bit of research about paramedics, but I didn't think I needed to go that in depth for it. lmk if you guys enjoyed!!

The job wasn’t like the description. It never is. Thinking that my tolerance to blood and gore would give me a steady start was another foolish mistake of mine, but as always, I make rash decisions before really taking in the responsibility. 

Instead of slow lazy mornings, I’m met with dragging hours day in and day out. No amount of nursing school could’ve prepared me for any of this. The stories, the sights, the tragedies, the victims—everyday I’m reminded of life’s uncertainty and how day I might be the one to end up in the stretcher. 

But soon enough, you build an immunity. You have to let these things move past you, put on a brave face for not only your bosses but for the ones in the chair; the ones who need the real saving. 

And of course, today is like no other. 

After just restocking the van and loading up everything to be needed for the next trip, an urgent call makes its way through the system, this time from the police department which isn’t rare in Hell’s Kitchen. 

“Whatd’ya think it is this time?” My co-worker, Marlen, jokes as we sit across from each-other in the back seat, an awkward new EMT, Jack, sat beside me. 

“Probably another gang fight. Seeing way too many these days.” I reply, shaking my head as my eye sight remains out the thin windows, watching the bright lights cascade onto the city streets with ferocity. 

“Hey guys,” Our lead supervisor, Rosalie, announces from the front seat comms as the blaring sirens almost drown her out. “We’ve got a pretty serious call here, so I need everyone to be dialed in. No fuck ups.” She says in that same tone most of us know by now. This is serious.

“What is it?” Marlen questions, leaning forward on his thighs as he holds the comms to his mouth, scrunching his eyebrows together as he looks my way as if i’d have the answer. I only shrug at him, sending a small glance to the young boy next to me as he still stares ahead. 

“Cops say they caught him. The Punisher.” And as soon as the words fly from her mouth and though the device, it’s as if the sirens shut off and the world swallowed itself whole—giving us a first class ticket to a vat of flaming, sweltering, burning, hot lava. 

Our eyes all immediately connect, and I don’t even hear the curse that instantly flies out of Marlen’s mouth. Instead, I try not to focus on the fear that bites away my insides, the tingles that pass through my arms like I’m back at my first day on the job. I squeeze my palms into fists, shutting my eyes before a sigh racks through my body and I force myself to relax. At least on the exterior. 

“Okay. Its okay. We’ve got it, treat it like any other job. We’ve been through shit like this before, it’s no different. Right Mar?” I huff as my eyes fly to his, and his arms remain on his legs until he locks his stare into mine. His back suddenly straightens, and he lifts himself up as he lightly shakes himself awake. 

“Right. Just like any other.” He mumbles more to himself, his eyes tearing away again to be glued to the stretcher, probably imagining the man himself who’ll be before us in no more than a minute. 

I turn to the boy beside me. “And it’s okay we’ll be right here, just do everything we tell you to do okay? Just like the other calls.” I watch his body begin to actively shake as he nervously meets my eye. He nods curtly, taking in a big gulp before responding back.

“Yes..Y-Yes ma’am.” He breathes and I nod back at him slowly, hoping for him to feel at least the smallest bit reassured before we come face-to-face with the talk of the town. Well, talk of the nation actually. 

And soon enough, the dreaded time arrives as van comes to a sudden stop and we all jolt out of our seats, rushing to the doors as I shove one open and Marlen does the same to the other. I fly down the steps before assessing the scene before me. News reporters seem to have gotten the memo before we did as they flock behind the bright yellow caution tape, questions and statements streaming out of their mouths like a swarm of bees. 

I was used to one or two—maybe a couple dozen of reports at a scene. But this? This was on a whole other level. I quickly made action though, following an officer as he led me to the body which was perched far out on a grave, a heap of blood being the only thing you could make out from this distance. As we neared though, things started to become more clear. 

His hair was trimmed short, and he was adorned in a black long sleeve and dark jeans. Of course what stood out was the blood that seemed to be leaking from every part of him. His skull, his arms, and as we neared closer- holy fucking shit. 

Words fly out of my mouth and to Marlen who is immediately at my side with a stretcher, and we both load him onto it with the cop’s assistance as Jack remains in the van. I continue to relay all the information about his state and possible injuries to Marlen and the comm on my shoulder, studying the rips in his clothing due to bullets and the painfully obvious vacant flesh in his foot. And of course, I wouldn’t dare to look The Punisher in the eye right now. 

The ride back is chaos as always, but nervous are still flying all around, especially as two heavily armed officers join us in the back to watch over. I tasked Marlen with treating his wounds as I begin a staring competition with his vitals, still too afraid to look him in the eye. I greet him with my name, as protocol, and ask for his but when I receive no answer, I can’t help but automatically turn to him. My breath catches heavily in my throat as I find him to already be looking. His stare is relentless, and he seems almost unbothered at his current state besides the prominent scrunch of his eyebrows. 

I try and continue my instructed questionnaire, but his silence is as unrelenting as his heavy cold gaze. His eyes flicker to the cops before returning to his lap. I decide to leave it alone, and instead focus on tending to the other half of his injuries that Marlen can’t reach. 

“Well sir, we’re going to have to cut your clothing off in order to tend to your injures, is that alright with you?” I prepose to him, lifting my eyebrows as I already anticipated the silence that followed. I just force my mouth into a straight line, grabbing the scissors that lay behind me as I began to trip away his shirt. Before I could get no more than an inch in, he removed his right arm from Marlen’s grasp and crossed it with the other, lifting the shirt over his head and handing it straight to me. “Thanks..” I muttered without thinking, quickly taking it and placing it on the floor.

I give him a look of uncertainty, but this time his eyes only connect with the ceiling as his chest rises and falls in one swift sigh before his eyes close. 

I sighed. “Sir, I need you to stay with us, okay? I understand you’re not in the mood for questions, but we have a job to do. We can’t help you if you can’t help us.” I put both arms on the sidebars of the stretcher, giving him a longing gaze as he forces his head up to meet mine. He let out a quick huff as if in silent agreement, and I followed slowly. “..alright. You know where you are right? Any fuzzy feelings in your head?” 

“No ma’am” He answered, his voice all rough and graveled as he turns away to watch Marlen grab his arm again.

“My partner here is just hooking you up the the rest of the machines and taking your blood pressure, that okay with you?” I ask, eyebrows raised once again as I questioned him in an almost teasing tone. 

“Don’t gotta ask, just do what you gotta.” He declares finally, slamming his head back onto the stretcher and it seems that’s the last we’ll get out of him as me and Marlen lock eyes, but I just shake my head at him and continue what we have to.

We treat his injures the best we can before we arrive back to the hospital, and when we finally do the doors open up to a craze rush of heavily armed officers and trespassing reporters who greet our patient with open arms—and not in a friendly way. He’s pushed hastily into the building and placed into a room at the furthest point away from everyone else. 

The chatter in the hospital was almost deafening. From the spill of patients we already had plus the nurses and doctors being worked over time, the news of an estranged serial killer entering the house only added fuel to the fire. It took a while for the three of us to fully decompress and asses the situation, but we busied ourselves with cleaning up and restocking as fast as possible. 

“Shits fucking crazy huh. I mean- we were just face to face with New York’s craziest fucking killer of all time. The guy was not what I expected though, I’ll say that.” Marlen strikes up the obvious conversation with me as I sterilize the sea of metal tools while he busses himself with throwing away the cloths. 

“What did you expect?” I pried, giving him a small smirk as he stood still and stared at the wall for a split second. 

“I don’t know. Like some huge, jacked ass dude with like war paint all on his face and military gear everywhere.” He explains widely, a huge grin on his face as I snort, shaking my head.

“Yeah, what a disappointment for you huh.” I sneered, drying up all the tools and bringing them back to the van as we joined Jack, Marlen hot on my tail.

“Oh don’t joke around now. I saw how he was lookin’ at you. All mysterious and longing and shit. Fuck was that?” His vulgar mouth turns It’s attention to mine which even gains Jack’s attention as he gives me an inquisitive look. I just roll my eyes.

“Oh I don’t know, maybe it’s called having a conversation. You know, when someone is talking you look at them. I understand that might be a bit foreign to you Mar. Don’t follow his lead Jack, you’re more intelligent than this moron.” I snicker, watching Jack transform into beet red before turning my back to the two as I put the tools back in their places, ignoring the sarcastic gasp from Marlen. 

“My goodness. And you were supposed to be a nurse? Good god woman, would not like you attending to me on my deathbed, jeez.” He jokes, and me and Jack just chuckle at his antics as I get up from my spot, shoving him aside as I leave the van and carry back on with our remaining duties. 

-

The next couple of weeks are a blur. Work is usual, but our connection is closer after that last encounter. Even though it wasn’t technically trauma, we all could admit to feeling a new bond sprout after the fact. I also found myself keeping up with the trial, I mean at this point you would have to be actively trying to avoid it as it was plastered everywhere you looked. Social media, bars, newspapers, subway conversations, it was surely the talk of the town now. 

But things weren’t adding up in my head. Everyone was painting him like some stone cold killer, and that’s what I expected before coming face to face with his wrecked body. Even though his tone was harsh and his glare burned, he wasn’t like how the tabloids painted him to be. Maybe i’d endured some serious whiplash or head trauma, and I keep having to remind myself that one ‘calm’ interaction with a deranged killer doesn’t make him a misunderstood villain. But I couldn’t help the gnawing in the pit of my heart, the one that dismissed the logic of my brain and told me what I almost wanted to hear. That Frank Castle wasn’t a mad man.

Yeah no, maybe I’m the mad one. 

-

The streets were empty tonight, which is a rare thing in the ever bustling concrete jungle. You’d think in the part of the city with the highest crime rate the population would have the incentive to stay indoors, but that isn’t the case in the city that never sleeps. But today is different. Rather, the past week has been different. 

The trial ended a while ago with a rather unsuccessful conviction. It was all over the news. 

‘Trial of the Century: Frank Castle admits in court outrage!’

‘Unhinged castle threatens the people!’

And more were the titles that headlined. But that was old news now. Now, the people were more afraid than ever after hearing the words ‘Frank Castle’ and ‘escaped’ in the same sentence. Everyone was on edge, not even just at work but if you looked someone in the eyes after the sun set you would be sure your thoughts were the same as theirs. 

But as I turned the lock to my apartment door and slammed it shut behind me, I let the worries slip away as the night creeped into the early hours. Alas, it was the weekend. The 2 days I finally had time off. 

I treated myself to a relaxing evening. A long shower, a fuzzy blanket, and a cheesy movie as I cuddled the ice cream between my fingers, giggling along as I almost lost myself to the tickling silence. But a sharp bang on my window broke that feeling in an instant. As quickly as I’ve ever moved in my life, I sprinted to the kitchen and grabbed a knife from the block, ducking behind the island as my breathing began to fasten. Maybe I finally was going to take my turn in the stretcher. 

Somehow, whomever or whatever was outside my window, had managed to get it unlocked and a loud and skin-prickling sound made way through the halls as it was being lifted. A heavy grunt followed as it reached its stopping point, the faint sound of paint chips cracking on the floor before something else heavy was heard moving. 

I listened, frozen in fear as I gripped the knife with a sweaty palm, eyes darting all over the place before I threw my hand over my mouth, trying to regulate my breathing. A heavy thud sounded loudly as a foot lifted off the metal fire escape and onto the wooden floors, another following before a pained groan sounded. Just as I was about to make an unhopeful run for it, a call of my name stopped me in my tracks. The voice continued after being met with a still silence. 

“Know you’re here, no point in hidin’. Shit.” The voice spoke out, rough and clearly pained as they seemed to stumble slightly. I peeked my head over the side of the counter, and watched as my eyes finally made contact with the large and bloody mass that sat perched at my window. The sound of my knife clattering to the tile alerted sharp eyes to quickly latch onto mine, and my face widened with recognition as my body went slack. 

“Holy fucking- how the fuck do you know where I live?” I let the shock only wash over me for a millisecond before I abruptly stood up, gripping the side of the counter as I threw an accusing finger at him. 

“S’not important.” Is all he huffs out, sparing me a quick glance before gazing down at his injures, covering his abdomen with a bloody hand as the other grips the ledge. My medical brain works faster than my rational one as I rush over to his aid, shutting the window with haste before drawing the curtains to a close. I asses his condition thoroughly before dipping back behind the counter to retrieve my medical kit, shoving on gloves before doing anything else. 

“Over here. God, what do you think you’re doing? The nearest hospital is like a second away!” I usher out even as I unzip the bag, swiping away my mess of blankets and forgotten treats as I sit him down on the couch. He ignores my comment, instead turning his eyes to my hands as I lift his shirt, eyeing the deep and massive slash across his stomach. “The fuck.” I whisper under my breath. 

As he allows me to remove his shirt, my eyes flash to the fabric as I feel more blood than I saw only to be met with bullet holes on the back. My expression contorts as I suddenly grab his shoulders, his surprise paralleling mine as I sit up to look at his back briefly. 

“Dude, are you kidding me! Yeah- no I’m not dealing with this right now I’m taking you to the fucking hospital. I don’t know who you think I am-“ I begin as I let go of him, standing straight as I go to remove my gloves but his bloodied hands stops mine.

“No hospitals, no cops, no nothin’. You’re fixing me.” He rasps, speaking like it pains him as I watch him angrily. 

“Uhm….no!? Im not a surgeon, I’m a paramedic. I can’t do shit like this. Plus, you just broke into my apartment! You-you’re a fugitive, do you know I could not only lose my job but go to jail because of this?” I barked at him, feeling like I’m talking to a wall as I start to walk away. But a heavy grunt and a few footsteps later and I don’t get far before a sharp tug to my arm spins me to face the hunched man. 

“Please. I don’t have anywhere else. Just need you to fix me, then I’ll go. Won’t see me again, promise.” He begs sincerely, and the look in his eyes hooks mine as I search his face, looking for clues on the world’s most unreadable man. After a couple beats, a heavy sigh escapes me and it seems like a breath he was holding releases itself too as he walks back to the couch and crashes against it heavily. 

“Shit. Fine. Okay. But I don’t care if you end up dead, you are indebted to me. For life.” I commanded back to him, returning to my kneel before him as I sift through my bag and pull out what’s needed. He only huffs what I assume is a sound of amusement before a heavy sigh leaves him, his sight watching as I attend to his injures.

What was supposed to be a night of binge-eating and falling asleep in front of the TV turned out to be me basically returning back to work, attending the unknown injures to a wanted serial killer. As soon as I began I threw away the questions that all flagged my mind, knowing I wasn’t going to get an answer no matter how hard I pried. I just let my flingers fly around his skin, trying not to let my stare linger on his shape of his body. But really, can you blame a girl?

It was around four in the morning when I tossed my gloves off, and that jolted him up as he immediately stood, grabbing his shirt of the ground as another pained sound left him.

“Hey,” I pulled him up, unknowingly grabbing his bicep as he gave me a strong look.  “Try not to move around a bunch, these stitches aren’t the best medical grade and I’m only a paramedic so they’re pretty shitty-“

“Don’t care. They work well enough.” He moves away with a gruff voice, throwing back on his bloodied attire as he checks behind him to see if he’s left anything behind. 

“You know, I can give you some new clothes if you’ll ask-“ I start but he cuts me off yet again.

“I don’t wanna take anything more from ya.” He states plainly, flashing me a look of sincerity before he walks off, the heavy pounding of his boots taking me out of my medical daze as I follow him back to the window. “Thank you.” He adds as he lifts the window back up with ease. It catches me off guard, the look he flashes me as I shake my head gently.

“I would say no problem, but it’s actually a pretty big one so, I’ll do you a favor and just try not to think about the crime I just committed. You keep those stitches tight, okay? Im not committing another felony for you.” I grunted at him, trying to sound at least a bit intimidating. I watched carefully, my crossed arms almost faltering as the smallest sign of a smirk tugged at the corner of his scarred and still bruised lips.

“Got it.” He noted, shoving his heavy body out of the window more swiftly than before and landing back onto the escape. He rested his palm between the threshold, staring at it before looking back up at me. “You stay inside okay, don’t go nowhere after work.” He warns me.

“Wasn’t planning on it.” I stated simply, adjusting my stance as I engulfed in the cities silence. After a beat, he shuffles out with a grunt and some sort of goodbye before he walks calmly down the stairs, disappearing into the cities darkness as I shut my window tight, triple checking to make sure its locked before turning and leaning against it.

What the hell is going on.

[mereyapalais]

“Babe it’s so hard”. She said looking up from her anatomy and physiology book. More of a dictionary since the number of pages on that book was crazy. When she heard her boyfriend come in for the fifth time just to check up on her while she studied. She tends to neglect herself when that finals period starts.

“You’re doing great sweetheart, I brought you some orange juice and toast since you love to forget that you need food in order to function.” Ony said sternly but with a soft undertone. He knew very well how his lady could decipher any tone of voice and get in her head and in her feelings. He knew not to be too stern or too harsh with her. Although sometimes it was hard,especially in cases where her well being was neglected.

She watched him come closer to her with a smile on her face. “Awn baby, you’re too good to me.” She stated getting up but he reached her in no time with his long legs.

“Stand up for me mama.” He set the plate and glass of orange juice on her, technically his, desk since she was staying over for the weekend. With him taking more shifts at work and her being busy with school. Spending quality time has been hard. Which sometimes led to petty arguments. Both parties being so touch starved for one another. Dates being planned and canceled. Phone calls ending up with snoring in each other’s ears. It was a tough time.

She got up and he took her initial seat as she took her rightful place on his thighs. He was dressed in a pair of black sweatpants while she had on one of his boxers and a white tank top with no bra on. Her piercings were definitely winking at him. Not being able to resist any further, he buried his face in her chest while inhaling deeply. “Oh my god babe stop sniffing me. You’re so weird sometimes!” She said in a fit of giggles while scratching his head. She could feel him smile, head still buried in her chest. She didn’t have the most cushiest chest, her man knew how to make do with what she had and boost her self esteem.

“Excuse a man for wanting to be around his woman. What’s that shit you be sayin’ again? I wanna be in yo skin woman.” He said lifting his head and looking in her eyes with a lazy smile. There they were gazing into each other’s eyes. Tired eyes, bags under their eyes and all. “I really missed u though. Real shit ma’” He said tracing her thick eyebrows.

“I know I really missed you too. I’m sorry about our date night.” She said, sealing her apology with a kiss on his full lips. He took the opportunity by enveloping her lips with his and deepening the kiss. Hands roaming all over, she scooted closer to him as if she wasn’t already directly exchanging oxygen with him.

When they stared running short on oxygen, she pecked all over his face as he basked in her embrace and presence. “ I really should get back to studying Ony. I was supposed to do one chapter today.”

“And whose fault is it that you haven’t done all you needed to do?”

“Boy, It’s your fault! You the one who woke me up with your head-“ before she could finish her sentence, he kissed her nose softly. “ Baby i really need to get back, I’m all yours after. Plus you shouldn’t really be feenin since you had a feast earlier.” Umi said while sipping on her orange juice.

“Not my fault you like sleeping bare cheeked.” He responded with his hands roaming on her backside. Kneading it like it was dough.

“You know I be hot. Plus you I can’t open the windows since you love falling sick anyhow.”

“First of all you are hot. Second of all, excuse me for having a weak system. But it’s all good since you gon be my lil nurse right..?” He said while wiggling his eyebrows suggestly at her.

“Umm brother eww! Get out right now” she said scrunching her face while trying to get up from his lap. He locked his strong arms around her to trap her while laughing at her . She finally succeeded and started pushing him towards the door.

“ see I’m hot already. Got me sweating like I’m in a sauna.” She said fanning her self with her note book

“Lemme cool you down then”

“Boy get out!” The orange juice she had in her hand spilled onto her tank. Onys eyes immediately landed on her chest. He immediately went silent, she could see his pupils dilate, and his mouth open slightly.

“See nah, get out boy” she said snapping her fingers in his face and pushing him towards the door. Before he could register what was going on, he was already on the other side of the door. She quickly closed the door on his face before he could try to sneak in again.

She could hear him laughing on the other side. “You better eat that peanut butter toast though.”

“I will baby, thank you again, you’re the sweetest. Mwah!”

“You can always let me in and ‘mwah’ me forreal’” he said sheepishly.

“Just gimme 1 more hour babe and I’m all yours.”

“Aight mama, you need me to do something while you studying? I can get dinner started.”

“No thank you. But you can start dinner I’ll come join you when I’m done.”

“Coo’ dont be too hard on your self in there now.”

“I won’t baby, see you in an hour!”

Don’t forget to comment and reblog please. Lemme know what you liked, your favourite parts, everything! Thank you for reading. 💋

[jimmyscanongf]

headcanons: calling up your mouthwashing bf to come over when you’re sick <3

because i’m sick.

ft. curly, jimmy, and daisuke

its my first time writing daisuke… idk brother but i had ideas for him so

Curly:

-this sweet, loving man is on the scene to come to your aid asap. like it’s his destiny to be your sicknurse. he loves being there to care for you

-he shows up with everything: warm blankets, hes got cold and flu medicine, he brought your favourite sweater of his for you to wear, little snacks, a thermometer to take your temperature

-if you’re lucky, he asked his mum to make soup, and he brought a serving or two. the man can’t really cook. he had a lovely mother who fed him and then spent way too much time in space eating prepackaged meals and slop assembled from gelatin water and sweetener.

-but her soup is not something you can just whip up really fast; so if not, he’ll try cooking anyways - an easy recipe. pre made broth cartons and all that. might even go for the pre packaged dry soup sachets. he’s aware of his culinary shortcomings. but it’s made with the utmost love.

-he does make a great cup of tea. nice, warm, and sweet to soothe your sore throat.

-he’s typically a well dressed man but he shows up in comfy clothes. he’s ready to lock down and cuddle with you for as long as you need, on the bed, or on the couch watching a movie, something lighthearted and low stakes. he’s a furnace, theres no better man to lie with when you’re shivering from the fever and cant get warm.

-he’ll gently massage your achey body, the man has magic hands, you feel so much better.

-when the fever breaks and you’re sweaty and flushed he’s there to help strip you out of the thick layers and dab cool water on your face and neck and chest

-he knows he’s gonna get sick. but he doesn’t mind that much, its all worth it to be there and to show you how much he cares <3

Jimmy:

-not gonna lie, his first thought is “what the fuck, i don’t wanna get sick, i can’t afford that shit.” he almost doesn’t want to come. cause when he gets sick, he always has to weather the sickness all alone.

-he doesn’t eat that well on earth. so maybe he’s a lil malnourished, his immune system isn’t the strongest. when he gets sick he’s fucking down for the count.

-but he zips it up, and thinking for a second more he realizes that he was the first one you called for help and comfort and he just. pauses and pinches the bridge of his nose, sighs. “…just hang on, I’ll be right there.” he does care about you, when it comes down to it.

-and imagine your surprise when you amble weakly to the door and he’s there, with a bottle of nyquil and, a bag of vegetables, some pasta, and is that a whole uncooked chicken?! he dug deep into his coffers to get ingredients to make you real chicken soup. if that doesnt show you how much jimmy loves you idk what will.

-he’s no 5 star chef, but he can cook pretty well. he can follow a recipe no problem. there were a lot of “fend for yourself” nights growing up. sometimes he’d even save his own money as a kid to buy ingredients to make a real proper meal.

-(and also slaving away over the stove for hours gives him an excuse to keep his distance as much as possible, man does not want to get infected.)

-he’s still gonna sit with you, let you lay your head on his lap while he waits for the soup to all simmer together. stroking your hair while you’re under a pile of blankets, both watching nothing tv just to pass the time and fill the silence. you can kinda smell the soup, what you can smell is rich and delicious

-you both eat his incredible hearty nourishing soothing soup and cuddle on the couch when you start getting cold. and when he starts thinking it’s time to leave he realizes you fell asleep on his chest. fuck, i guess he’s stuck now.

-he really, really hopes you’ll return the favour in a week’s time when he’s sick as a dog. (you better go nurse that man and make him feel so cared for)

Daisuke:

-the man is thrilled. hes like AWWW YEAH DAISUKE TO THE RESCUE COMING TO NURSE MY BOO BACK TO HEALTH. he’s so happy you asked him for help. he’s determined to make you feel better.

-he really does the absolute most. he pulls up with like, several different kinds of medicine, he’s got games and movies to pass the time, he’s got so many snacks and junk food. he was at the store thinking, what food always makes me feel better? and filled his cart. there was a get well soon balloon at the checkout line so you know he bought it last second.

-he’s a little. much. he’s just enthusiastic about making you feel better. he’s going through the whole laundry list of everything he brought while your sluggish sick brain is in circles trying to keep up. and not gonna lie, you’re a little too fatigued to play video games.

-so you’re lying there next to him under the blankets watching him play video games and munching on like. chips and candy and stuff. coughing and dripping from your nose. kinda drifting in and out of sleep. he’s doing his very best to keep it down. but just being near him is so comforting.

-eventually. the junk food just is not cutting it. and your mouth kinda hurts from the hard salty snacks and your tongue is coated from the candy. “daisuke, baby… did you bring any real food?” and you sound all weak and hoarse and youre aching all over. he’s like. OH, shit. yah i guess chips arent the most nourishing food for when youre sick huh…. he sits there thinking for a moment and then the lightbulb goes off

-“hold on babe, i know just the thing, i’ll be right back!!” and he rushes out. on the way to the grocery store again he’s calling up his mom like MAMA how do you make that soup you gave me when i was sick as a kid???

-he comes back and whips up estrellita soup in no time, because its just like, chicken broth and some salt and little star pasta. and he looks so damn pleased handing you the bowl. how the fuck can you feel bad when he’s smiling like that over this bowl of tiny little stars.

-he’s so happy watching you eat his childhood sick soup. he spends the night, all he wants is to make you feel better, he doesnt even think once about getting sick himself.

[thezombieprostitute]

Second Chances Dating App

Soulmates, though not fully understood, are a real thing. Soulmate meetings are celebrated throughout the world and cherished.

But what happens when one soulmate dies before the other? It's a painfully common occurrence. Soulmates passing away due to disease, accidents, natural disasters, crime.

You lost your own soulmate to heart attack. He got hit in the chest in just the wrong spot at just the wrong time and his heart stopped.

It's taken years of therapy but you think you're finally ready to try again. To welcome romantic and physical love back in your life. Your therapist recommends a dating app called Second Chances, designed specifically for people who have lost their soulmates.

So who are you swiping right on? (Poll at the bottom)

Curtis lost his soulmate to a car accident. They were hit by a drunk driver and, while Curtis survived, his soulmate didn't. He's had to deal with survivor guilt on top of everything else. But he's willing to give love another chance.

He works in HVAC systems, mainly repairs. It's nothing fancy, but considering his work helps people survive the crippling heat waves, he's happy to do it.

Jefferson, a single father, lost his soulmate to a mugging gone wrong. He's had to stay strong for his daughter, Grace, but he'll be the first to admit something broke in him. He's lost a considerable amount of faith in humanity but he wants to try.

He's a fashion designer. Not one of the most well known, but he's financially sound with a good number of high profile clients. He appreciates a medium that lets him be so expressive while also letting others express themselves.

Steve met his soulmate during his time in the army. Their time together was short and Steve still has PTSD from the battle that broke his soul. But he's tired of being alone. He's never one to stay down so he's going to try to find someone he can connect with. Someone he can feel safe and comfortable with.

He left the army soon after his soulmate's death and ended up going into automobile repair. He specializes in motorcycles but is good with anything that has an engine. He likes to work with his hands and keep himself busy.

Hal's soulmate was taken from him by cancer. They wasted away in front of his very eyes. He's incredibly grateful for the time they had together. But he knows they'd want him to find someone new. To not be tied to them forever.

Taking care of his soulmate, Hal picked up a lot of nursing tricks and trades. After they passed, he ended up taking courses and getting his nursing degree. He enjoys helping to take care of people.

A rather unique case, Bucky lost the arm with his soulmate tattoo in a construction accident. Because he no longer has it, the magic to find and meet his soulmate is gone. He's not entirely sure he belongs on this app, but he needs to try.

Bucky's replacement arm is enough that he's able to stay in the construction industry. Though he's more on the safety inspection side of things these days. He doesn't want anyone to go through what he has.

[somnolenthour]

🅱🅻🆄🅴 🅱🅻🅾🅾🅳

￫ ᴘᴀɪʀ: ʀᴇᴍᴍɪᴄᴋ 𝚡 𝚏𝚎𝚖!𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

￫ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴꜱ: 𝙳𝚎𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚒𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚑𝚞𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝙰𝚄 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙺𝚊𝚖𝚜𝚔𝚒

￫ɴᴏᴛᴇ: 𝙸'𝚕𝚕 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜. 𝙸 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚙𝚝 ヽ(*´∀`)ﾉ

Diamonds, triangles, and honeycomb patterns filled your daily life and dreams with hues of sanitized blues and off whites. Natural lighting somehow felt so clinical here, devoid of life much like the androids that passed you by with artificial grins painted onto their faces, the glimmer of joy unable to reach their glassy eyes. Something about it all was uncanny, wondering if anything about this place was truly unethical. But you weren’t a part of ethics. You were a part of conditioning.

You had to admit that it was one of the better jobs for people like you, being the say for each model standard. From making sports-centric models run laps and throwing balls to having nursing models pick you off of the ground like a limp child. You recorded everything diligently and uploaded it into the system for assembly.

But you were mainly restricted to the commercial androids. Models that were one of a kind and not to be sold were run through Kamski himself. You never met the man personally; He would pass by, send emails, and praise certain departments for their hard work. Which is what you expected. He was your boss. But when you received a particular email regarding one of his experimental models, you had to rub your eyes, then ask if this was correct (which earned a “Haha yes!” From your employer.). You found yourself on the higher levels of Cyberlife tower, the soft hum of banjo music playing over the sound of running water. A hologram of Kamski stopped speaking to his RT600 (or Chloe, it was hard to remember names but models were easier in your line of work.) and turned to you, it was surreal how quiet the world felt, seeing the man who changed the world in more ways than one casually sauntering over to the source of the music and place a transparent hand on his shoulder.

“There you are..” His soft cadance filled the air. You were frozen in place. “It must be strange to be called here on such short notice.” The android, lacking in standard cyberlife issued clothing, wearing a blue pin-stripe shirt and a pair of black slacks. Upon looking at his shoes, they were vintage leather. He smiled at you, and his brown eyes crinkled with what looked like happiness, but it felt too real. You noted that for later, gaze falling up to Kamski.

”It is..” You reply, trying not to sound sheepish. Nerves tighten in your core as anxiety settles on them like a sheet. “May I ask why I’m here, sir?”

The man took a breath and chuckled a bit, the android chuckling as well. “This is your assignment, RK931.”

The android stopped playing and held out a hand, smile widening as he saw you. “But please, just call me Remmick.” His southern drawl was..new. You’ve heard several voice banks in your time here, but accents usually stayed neutral. Even if they were from other English-speaking countries. You reached out and shook the android’s hand, and he pulled you in to kiss your knuckles. It’s not like you haven’t been touched by androids before, you’ve worked with the sex work lines with your collegues and a team of intimacy coordinators, but the way he winked at you made you heart skip a beat. Remmick’s indicator flashes yellow as he analyzes your reaction, stroking your palm with his thumb.

”Life-like isn’t he? I had him imported all the way from Ireland for this.” Kamski sat in one of the chairs in his projection. “He’s your brand new companion.”

“If he’s from Ireland, why isn’t he using his irish voice bank?” You swore you saw Remmick’s LED flash red for a moment.

“I suggest taking a glance at his notes when you have some spare time.” Kamski’s gaze was so intense that you only nodded meekly. Speaking with the man always felt like walking on eggshells. Remmick rose from where he sat and joined your side, Kamski half smiled and turned on his heel. “Well, I expect weekly reports.”

”Yes sir…”

[sakebytheriver]

It's interesting the way Interior Chinatown uses Lana's mixed race heritage and dissect the social expectations that come with that identity within the meta police procedural network television lense,

They don't do too much with it explicitly, because in this season she is relegated to a minor protagonist, a role that is made abundantly clear within the text of the show itself both with her relationship to the "main character" detectives within the in-universe TV show Black & White and within the overall story of Willis uncovering the mystery of his brother, but here's the interesting thing they do about Lana being relegated to the role of minor protagonist, the show connects that aspect of her character directly to her mixed race heritage

The show has Lana state that she hopped from job to job, filled every little but fairly important role that was available, something a pretty ethnically ambiguous actress would make a career off of, one or two line roles where she plays a nurse or a waitress or a secretary or a paralegal or a mechanic etc. etc. until she lands the first "big role" of her life becoming a "guest star" rather than a featured extra

Lana being mixed race opens more doors for her in the figurative meta sense of the real life film industry's racism which features into the in-universe storytelling about how in a show called Black & White Willis was never going to be the hero, and with the added layer of Lana not being from Chinatown, instead being a mixed race transplant, it puts her at odds with the insular Chinatown community, already rife with distrust, secrets, and tragic mysteries that she is not a part of, an outsider with a key desperately trying to fit in with the crowd, all culminating together into the moment when Uncle Wong tells her she'll never truly be able to understand the Chinatown community because she's mixed

In that moment the show uses the insular community of Chinatown to represent the nonmixed community that still faces the full brunt of white supremacy and racial profiling along with the clear economic disadvantages the people of Chinatown have compared to Lana whose relative privilege over the community she's trying to convince the police force she is the face of has allowed her to escape the same economic distress and pigeonhole stereotypes they must all occupy within an American copaganda police procedural

It's not that Lana can't claim her Chinese heritage or that she can't be a member of the Chinatown community, it's that she has a certain type of privilege that others her from the community in a way that is not her fault and that she cannot change, in some ways it's on the community itself to recognize that even if Lana is mixed that doesn't stop her from being a part of the Chinatown community, but there is something about how the first half of Lana's arc starts with her claiming to be the Chinatown expert and yet it doesn't even seem as though she lives there, using her privilege to open the doors to the new career of detective becoming a piece within the system that currently oppresses Chinatown in the vain hope to be the "change from within" with characters constantly calling her out on the fact that she knows nothing about Chinatown and then the back half of her arc is Lana working at Uncle Wong's restaurant, the same restaurant Willis worked at, that's literally at the heart of the community's deepest secrets, taking on the role of the lowest employee, a busboy, getting called out by Uncle Wong himself on her privilege and how even if she's working in Chinatown now she still hasn't proven to the community that she can be trusted to use her privilege in their favor rather than self servingly surrendering to the system she used to be a part of, it's a classic "you have to be redeemed from being a cop by working food service" kind of redemption arc

The show didn't have too much time to go into the explicit implications of Lana being mixed race and how that affects her character's interactions with the rest of the world around her given that the first season was only ten episodes and they had a lot of other stuff to be more explicit about and in a way leaving Lana's mixed race heritage and the social implications of the privilege that comes along with it in the subtextual aspects of her character being able to blend like a chameleon and reach higher levels of success than those who weren't mixed race with only a singular line pointing out the fact that her being mixed is the main thing that alienates her from the community of Chinatown was the better choice narratively speaking, it might go over a lot of the viewers heads, but it's there for people who want to go digging

[steddieas-shegoes]

One sentence for your brain kickstart

"How did you do that?!"

Eddie was certain that Nancy Wheeler was the one who sold her soul to the devil.

Or maybe he was just a little loopy from the drugs they were still pumping into his system.

He was told if he could finish all his exams with a C or better, he could graduate. Kind of a "we're sorry we were wrong about you but we want you gone" thing.

Nancy made him flashcards, and sat with him for a couple hours every afternoon going over her own study guides for classes.

She'd quickly found that he was smart enough to pass without her help, except for one subject: pre-calculus.

He tried, she watched him try, and she tried so hard to explain in a way that he could understand, but he just couldn't.

"I'm calling in reinforcements," she said on the third afternoon in a row of Eddie getting so frustrated his heart rate spiked and a nurse walked in to make sure he was okay.

"Who at Hawkins is smarter than you?" Eddie asked, doing his best not to let the frustrated tears fall yet.

"Overall? No one. But in pre-calc? Steve."

No way.

There was no way.

"Steve Harrington? The Steve that carried me out of hell? The Steve that looked me in my eye yesterday and asked if I knew any Hobbits in real life?" Eddie's confusion only grew as Nancy started to nod along. "You can't be fuckin' serious. My future depending on the abilities of Steve."

"If he can't help, I'm not sure who can."

So they finished up his biology practice exam and waited.

When Steve arrived, Nancy caught him up on everything while Eddie watched him nodding along, hands on his hips like he was receiving his next instructions during a basketball game.

She left, saluting him on her way out the door, an unreadable smirk on her face.

"So. Pre-calc is trying to kill you?" Steve asked as he sat in the chair Nancy had just occupied.

"It may succeed," he grumbled back.

"Nah. If I can pass with an A, you can." Steve looked over one of the papers Nancy had handed to him before leaving, brows furrowing. "This is from the practice test you did?"

"Failed it," Eddie nodded, playing with the rings on his finger.

Steve set the papers down on his meal tray on wheels, pulling it closer so they could both look at it.

"I see where you were going. You just took a wrong turn, see?" Steve started working the problem from the beginning, the pencil scratching against the paper as Steve found the answer with ease.

"How did you do that?!" Eddie asked after a moment of shocked silence.

"I'll show you slowly. You're just overthinking the third step."

Steve explained each step, showing him as he went exactly what to do.

It took a couple tries, but Eddie finally got it.

The next day, Nancy gave him another practice test.

He passed with a B.

And after another study session with Steve, he passed the real thing with an A.

When Steve heard, he leaned down and kissed the top of his head unexpectedly.

Eddie stared up at him with wide eyes.

"Dammit. I knew the drugs were good, but now I know I've been dreaming this whole time," Eddie whispered, afraid to wake himself up.

"They haven't even given you anything today so you could take your exams, Eds."

"Oh. Right." Eddie blinked. "So, that was real?"

Steve answered with a brush of his lips against Eddie's.

[deathworlders-of-e24]

Jane, Medical Technician

Part 1

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Sorry I’m late doctor, this ship is huge.” Jane hadn’t realized until she got on board that her quarters were halfway across the ship and a full deck up from her work station in the Med Bay. She was going to have to fabricate some more sensible shoes at this rate. She wished she could have her own synthetic tree put into the med bay, just roll outta the hammock and get straight to work, but those perks belonged to the head doctor on the ship.

“It’s fine, it’s just day one,” said Doctor Huhuma, brushing it off with a wave of her furred hand. “I think I can trust these people to go at least a week without almost dying.”

While Jane Shaw was a doctor in her own right, the head physician on board the Noah was Doctor Huhuma, an Indoprime, something akin to the moneys on E24 in the Terran system, locally called Earth. They were so similar in fact that multiple ongoing studies were being conducted to see if they had any common genetic ancestry. Indoprimes stood just as tall as humans on two legs, with two arms that hung down to their torsos. The only real difference was the fur and semi prehensile tails.

“We’ve only left the station a few hours ago, what could have happened? I think today will be quiet at least,” Jane joked. As if the universe heard her and quietly whispered ‘bet’, the door to Med Bay hissed opened and in walked one of the engineers with a thin length of pipe all the way through their arm. Their green blood was a stark contrast to their gray skin and jumpsuit, and their face was turning ashen.

“Oh for- why?” Doctor Huhuma rushed over to the fresh patient. “Thanks for that, Jinxed Jane. Grab a kit, I’ll get him on the table. You had to say the Q-word, huh?”

God damnit, Jane thought. Hours into a first shift and the nickname has already come up. Jinxed Jane had followed her all throughout her residency on Earth and apparently it’d made its way into her GAIL file too.

You accidentally bump a few nurses during surgery and they never let you forget it, she thought miserly. There was a reason she was trying to get away from people who knew her. Jinxed Jane was one of them.

She grabbed a kit from the shelves and brought it to the table, handing the med scanner to the doctor.

“Thank you…sorry. For the-”

“Don’t worry about it.” Jane didn’t want to think about it.

The little gray guy on the table was breathing hard. His life wasn’t in any danger, thankfully, but the pipe was only a half inch thinner than his arm. Jane recognized his species from the crew list, he was one of the Gally. Apparently they’d been to earth a ton of times in the past, abducting cattle and occasionally leaving crop circles as a joke. They’d actually shown up so often that the Gally were the default for ‘Alien’ in pop culture in the Terran System. Throughout the Galaxy and especially the GAIL member planets, the Gally were known to be obnoxious pranksters of the highest order.

“Oouuuch,” said the Gally, wincing at the pain.

“Get him a shot of something good for the pain, this’ll take a second.” The med scanner wasn’t done compiling.

“On it.” Jane grabbed a dose of multi-species painkiller from the kit, took the cap off with her teeth, and jabbed it into his thigh. Almost immediately the Gally relaxed.

“Laser wave scalpel, please,” Doctor Huhuma asked.

“Here.” Jane handed her the tool quickly, a short cylinder tapered on one end. The doctor clicked it on and a red beam several centimeters long sprouted from the tip.

“Cover his eyes for me, this might throw sparks.”

“Got it, Doc.”

Jane grabbed a surgical mask and slipped it on the Gally’s face, then took a stainless steel tray and used it to shield their eyes. Huhuma leaned down and with one hand covering her eyes, she used the laser saw to cut the pipe as close to the skin as possible. The Gally flinched at first so Jane put her hand on his shoulder to comfort him as best she could.

The pipe fell, one end red hot, and Huhuma caught it with her tail before it hit the floor.

“Okay,” the doctor said, “easy part is done, this is where it will probably be awful for you.”

“How?” The Gally asked, speaking for the first time other than slight groans of pain.

“Why don’t you tell us your name so we can get this filed away after we’re done?”

“I’m an engineer below decks, my name is Simms of the Gall-”

Huhuma pulled the pipe out the other side of his arm, causing Simms to break off his introduction for a yelp of pain. The doctor quickly took the tissue regenerator, commonly called a Patch Box, and started closing up the wound.

“Well, Simms of the Gally, my name is Doctor Huhuma, and this is Doctor Shaw. You’re our very first patient on this ship, and let me tell you, I wasn’t expecting anything to happen before we left the system, so while I go start the paperwork, Doctor Shaw is going to finish up for me.”

Huhuma handed over the device before walking calmly into her office. Jane wasn’t sure but she thought she heard a long sigh before the door closed, but that could’ve just been the door’s hydraulics.

“I don’t believe she likes me,” Simms said.

“Oh you’re fine, she’s just…settling into the ship, I suppose. So yeah, like she said, I’m Doctor Jane Shaw, and I suppose I’ll be your doctor now, so it’s nice to meet you, though I’m wondering how you got a pipe through your arm.”

“Oh, that.” Apparently it was possible for people with gray skin to blush. They just got a little darker in the cheeks.

“I kinda deserved it. One of the other humans in engineering, Thomas I think, was doing something weird with the drone he picked up, and we thought it’d be funny to prank him.”

“What was he doing?”

“Well it’s a service drone, it shouldn’t even be active right now right? He’s got one of the ones that crawls into maintenance channels and fixes the wiring, and he’s got it playing one of your human’s game things, and he’s just talking to it like a person, for hours!”

“And what did you do?”

“Well, we thought about cabling his shoes to the catwalk but I, uhh, slipped and fell into some exposed pipping.”

“Hence the arm.”

“Yes, hence my arm.”

“So you could say if you hadn’t been being a jerk, this could’ve been avoided. Can’t wait to tell your primary care giver that her crew are idiots and jerks. Leave the guy alone, if he’s not hurting anything then it doesn’t matter.”

“What, do you know the guy? He your friend or something?”

Jane didn’t particularly like the tone of the conversation anymore, but wanted to be professional.

“Never met the guy, but if you keep coming in here for pointless procedures like this, the chances of you getting the wrong doses are gonna get pretty high.”

Professional. Right.

“Look I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend the humans, we’ll leave him alone, okay?” Simms seemed way more afraid than Jane figured he should be, but rolled with it.

“Good. Now, how would you rate your care today?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Aside from the rough start, the day in the Med Bay went by relatively easily. Jane met the nurses and other support staff she’d be working with, and they all seemed very nice. A couple of the senior officers came down to introduce themselves to Doctor Huhuma and herself, and the 3 other Indoprime came down to have lunch together in the office, primarily fruits and such. Jane went to the mess hall and enjoyed small talk with a delightful short haired alien that she almost immediately forgot the name of.

It wasn’t until she was coming back to the Med Bay that things took a turn. Rounding the corner, Jane saw the door to Med Bay open and a very suspicious looking Simms the Gally come out, looking both ways down the hall before practically jogging down to the corner and out of sight.

Jane sped up and ducked her head into the clinic. There was a giant string of crop circles on the wall drawn in what looked like an oil paint.

Now, she wasn’t sure when she started sprinting, but before she knew it, Jane was already within 20 yards of Simms the Gally.

“YOU LITTLE FUCKER!”

Simms spun around, eyes wide.

“Oh shit what the fu-”

That was as far as he got before she tackled him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Doctor Huhuma watched the door while Doctor Jane Shaw watched the gray alien known as Simms the Gally sponge wash the crop circles off the Med Bay wall.

“So when in this big plan of yours did you think it was a good idea to piss off your doctors?” Jane asked, arms crossed.

“When I thought you’d still be in the mess hall for another 30 seconds.”

“You’re an idiot.”

Huhuma laughed, the sound coming from deep in her chest. Jane smiled at her. It was a good, hearty kind of laugh. It suited her.

“So are you guys gonna tell the captain about this?”

Jane thought for a second, then turned to Huhuma and shrugged.

“Your call boss.”

“I think if you just clean this place up…once a week, till we tell you otherwise, we could keep this to ourselves.”

Simms the Gally groaned, but kept scrubbing.

Jane the human laughed.

Huhuma the Indoprime smiled at her.

Liking the new job so far, Jane thought. This’ll be fun.

[wintersoldiersoul]

Reader comes back from a mission with Natasha really sick. Bucky steps up and takes care of the reader. They don’t want to get Bucky sick, but he’s literally not worried about it because, ya know, super soldier. So he’s able to take care of them and stay with them and cuddle.

Bucky was sat on the couch with a book, trying to pass the time until you got home. You had been gone for 4 days on a mission with Natasha and while it was pretty low stakes, he was still holding his breath until you got home. He missed you terribly, especially since he didn’t have any missions or any real work to do while you were gone. He just tried to fill each day as best as he could until his doll returned home safe and sound. 

He smiled when he heard his phone ring, expecting it to be you for your daily phone call that you made whenever you got a minute. But it wasn’t you. It was Natasha. 

“Nat?” He asked, answering. “Is everything okay?” 

He heard the redhead sigh on the other end. “Yeah, we’re okay. We’re gonna be home in an hour or so, but just wanted to give you a heads up, Y/N is pretty sick.” He went on alert. Whenever you were sick, even if it was just a small cold, Bucky went into full nurse mode, waiting on you hand and foot. He hated seeing you in any sort of pain or discomfort even if it was just an inevitable part of being a human. “Is she okay?”

“Um,” she hesitated. In the background, Bucky could hear you groaning. “She will be. I may need some help when we get here, though.”

“Okay. I’ll be ready.”

Bucky spent the next hour preparing things for you. He made a big pot of soup, put on the tea kettle, changed the sheets on the bed so that they were fresh and clean for you. He laid out clothes and gathered every type of medicine he could find. When he heard the roar of the jet, he headed up to the roof ready to do whatever he had to help you.

Natasha stepped off the jet, greeting him with a smile. “She’s still in there,” she explained. “I don’t know if she can walk on her own.” 

Bucky nodded and headed into the jet. You were curled up with your eyes closed. Your face was flushed and you were shivering. Bucky approached you like you were a small, scared animal. “Baby?” he whispered, sitting down next to you and stroking your hair.

“Hmmm,” you mumbled. He could tell you had a fever and you were definitely out of it.

“Can I take you inside? Get you to bed?”

You opened your eyes. “N-no,” you said through chattering teeth. “D-don’t wanna get you s-sick.” 

Bucky smiled gently. “Honey, I can’t get sick, remember?” Usually whenever you were sick, you didn’t worry about passing it on to Bucky. You knew his supersoldier immune system prevented him from catching anything you had. The fact that you didn’t remember that right now told Bucky just how out of it you were.

“Oh.”

“Come here, baby,” Bucky said, scooping you into his arms as gently as possible. You were like dead weight, barely able to keep your head up. “Thanks, Nat,” he said once he’d gotten you off the jet. “I got it from here.”

He set you down on the bed, trying to keep you from falling asleep. He knew you needed to rest but you were still in your uniform, covered in dirt and grime from the mission. “What hurts, darlin’?”

You groaned, letting your head fall on his shoulder. “Everything. Head, throat, stomach. My whole body aches. Feel dizzy.”

“Can I run a bath for you? You’ll feel a little better if you’re clean.” Your only response was another groan and Bucky laughed. “Alright, stay here. I’m gonna run you a bath, okay? I’ll be right back.” 

You fell asleep in the span of time between Bucky running the bath and coming to get you. He hated to wake you up but he had to get you clean of the mission that was clinging to your skin. He shook your shoulder gently, once again scooping you up and carrying you to the bathroom. He sat you down on the toilet and helped you get undressed before doing so himself. He had to remember to thank Stark for the giant bathtub. 

He got you into the bath and wrapped his arms around you so that your back was leaning against his chest. Lovingly, he ran his hands up and down your arms. “Baby how long have you been feeling sick for?”

“I dunno,” you mumbled. “Couple days?” 

His eyes widened. “What? Why didn’t you come home? You know any of us could have stepped in on this one and taken your place.”

“Didn’t wanna be a disappointment,” you murmured. Bucky’s heart broke for you. You were such an overachiever, such a people pleaser. You constantly put the needs and wants of everyone else in front of your own. You never wanted to let anyone down, even if it was at the cost of your own health. “M sorry,” you continued.

“Shhh, it's okay. I just worry about you. You’re gonna kill yourself one day trying to keep everyone happy.”

“Can’t help it,” you said with your eyes closed.

“We’ll talk about it later, okay? Let’s just get you clean and into bed right now.” He spent the next 20 minutes washing your body and hair, taking his time to massage your scalp the way you loved. He spread the conditioner over your ends, letting it sit for a few minutes the way you taught him. By the time he was done, you had fallen asleep. 

Bucky picked you up and got you dressed in one of his sweatshirts and your favorite pair of sweatpants. Your eyes fluttered open as he set you down in the bed. “Bucky, no. You’re gonna get sick!” You repeated your concern from earlier, worrying him by just how out of it you truly were.

“No, I’m not, honey,” he said, moving your hair out of your face. “Can you open your mouth for me, sweetie? I’m just gonna take your temperature.” 

He looked at the thermometer with concern after it beeped. “You’ve definitely got a bad fever, babe. Your temp is 103.7.” He put his metal hand on the back of your neck, knowing the cold would feel good on your burning skin. 

You hummed at the feeling, the vibranium sending waves of relief over your skin. “Wanna sleep.”

Bucky smiled at you. “You can sleep, baby. Can I hold you?”

“No, you’ll get sick!” You repeated for the third time. 

“Baby, I won’t get sick. That I can guarantee, okay? Can you do me a favor and remember that I won’t get sick?”

You nodded and curled up against him, resting your head on his chest. His strong arms wrapped around you, stroking your shoulder gently. “I love you, Princess. Get some rest, okay?” 

“Love you,” you said into his neck before drifting off into a deep sleep.

[gloomysoup]

'tis the season

@steddiebingo christmas prompt: winter

rating: teen+ | word count: 1808 | tags: omegaverse, hurt/comfort, sick fic | ao3

another edition to home is where you are 🥰

Eddie Munson has always loved winter. He loves the snow, and hot chocolate, and lights, and Christmas. He loves curling up with a whole bundle of blankets to read a good book while snow falls outside. He loves catching snowflakes on his tongue and watching his breath fog up in the cold air. He loves kissing Steve under the mistletoe and dancing around the kitchen in their pajama pants and fuzzy socks.

What he doesn't love about the winter is sick pups.

The first time he and Steve deal with a sick pup is the first winter after Addie is born. It's mid-January, and their little girl is only four months old when she catches her first sickness. Steve and Eddie do not take it well.

Addie didn't sleep for days. She hardly wanted to nurse. She just cried and cried, and nothing could soothe her. They tried everything. They were both stressed out. Addie just kept getting worse.

Eddie got a call at work.

The baby was still crying, broken up by awful intermittent coughing, and Steve was freaking out.

“Something’s wrong,” he stuttered through his own tears. “I don't- I don't know exactly what, but- but I just know that something is wrong, and I don't know what to do.”

Eddie frowned. “What's going on?”

“She just- she has this cough that won't stop, and her breathing is all crackly, and- and she spiked a really high fever. 103.6 last time I checked it. She hasn't eaten since yesterday morning. Something is wrong, Eddie. I just know it.”

Eddie sucked in a breath and looked at the clock. He still had a couple hours left in his shift. “Okay. Okay, let's not panic.” Eddie was definitely panicking, but he couldn't let Steve know that. “Just- just take a breath, baby, okay? We’ll figure it out. Um… just keep watching her temperature and her breathing. We can take her to the doctor together when I get off. If she gets worse before that, though, call me and go to the ER. I'll meet you there as soon as I can.”

Steve hiccuped on a breath. “Okay. Okay, I can do that. I- I'm scared, Eddie.”

“I know, baby. We’re gonna do what we can, though. I love you.”

Steve sniffled. “Love you too.”

“I'll see you soon.”

Steve hummed and said goodbye before the line went dead. Eddie sucked in a shaky breath, scrubbing his oil-stained hands over his face. He had to get himself back together before he went back to the garage.

“What's up, man?” Dan asked when he finally stepped back in to finish working. “You look a little rough. Everything okay?”

Eddie sucked in another breath and picked up a new rag, sticking it through his belt loop as he tried to focus on work. “My pup's sick,” he explained. “That was my mate that just called. He, uh, he's kinda freakin’ out. She's just getting worse. Spiked a high fever today.”

Eddie couldn't see Dan’s frown with his head in the engine of a Cadillac. He could hear it in his voice when he spoke, though. “Damn. She's not very old, is she?”

Eddie shook his head. “Four months last week.”

Dan hummed, back to what he was doing. “Rough age for gettin’ sick, especially this time of year. Lots of stuff that's worse for the little ones. Y'know what she caught?”

“No, not a clue. Hopefully gonna get her in to see a doctor after my shift, though.”

“Better sooner than later, man. You don't wanna mess with that shit when they're that young. No immune system to help ‘em out. Somethin’ small can turn into somethin’ big real quick, man, trust me. My youngest caught a bad case of RSV when he was about seven months, and it ended with a two and a half day hospital stay.”

Eddie’s heart pounded in his chest. He really hoped it wasn't bad. He hoped she was going to be okay. His stomach kept churning. He couldn't get Dan’s words out his head, or the panic in Steve’s voice on the phone. He should have just told Steve to take her to the doctor without him. He shouldn't have made him wait. He knew Steve. He knew his mate was just going to keep worrying himself sick.

And then the phone rang again.

Jennifer, the older woman who ran the shop’s front desk and did all the behind the scenes work, answered. Eddie caught a glimpse of her through the window as she was immediately on her feet. His stomach dropped.

His entire world shifted on its axis when she stuck her head in the door and called Eddie’s name.

“You gotta go, sugar,” she said, as gentle and sweet as she always was. “Your ‘mega’s headed to the hospital with the pup.”

Eddie sucked in a breath and nodded, tossing his dirty rag down and following her inside the building. It took him barely a minute to sprint down the hall, grab his stuff from the break room, and sprint back outside to his car. He tried not to speed to the hospital, knowing Steve would be pissed if he spun out on the ice or got pulled over, but it was hard. He could barely focus. He whipped into the parking lot of Hawkins General, back tires barely catching traction on the slick asphalt. He hardly had the car in park and turned off before he was rushing through the Emergency Room doors.

It didn't take him long to find Steve and Addie, always able to pick out where they are in a crowd with ease. He rushed over to where Steve was running his hands through his hair, and a doctor was listening to Addie’s lungs.

“Steve,” he said, just as he got close to them. He instantly wrapped him up in his arms, both of them uncaring for the oil that would no doubt be staining Steve’s clothes. “‘M so sorry, baby,” he whispered, eyes on Addie as Steve burrowed his nose in Eddie’s neck. “What happened?”

“She- she could barely breathe,” Steve whispered, his voice cracked and broken with his tears. “She was coughing so- so much and couldn't catch her breath, and- and her fever just kept getting higher. I- I couldn't wait any longer.”

“Shhh, it's okay.” Eddie threaded his fingers through the hair at the back of Steve’s head, scratching at his scalp. “You did so good, baby. I'm so proud of you. The doctors are gonna help. They're gonna take care of her. She's gonna be okay.”

They would eventually find out that Addie had a severe case of RSV and pneumonia. They stayed in the hospital for five days while the doctors treated her, and even after they finally got to leave, it was another week of at-home breathing treatments. Eddie hated seeing his pup so sick, knowing there was nothing he could do.

Luckily, none of their other pups got quite that sick. They could get by with cuddles and Tylenol and all the other tips and tricks they got from the older parental figures in their lives. Joyce helped a lot with home treatments that wouldn't break the bank.

One particular winter, right before Sophia was born, the Munson household got hit hard. It was nothing more than a small virus, but the pups were all miserable with it. All they wanted to do was cuddle all day long and sleep. Eddie wasn't about to deny them whatever comfort they needed. With the big snowstorm that had blown through, he had two extra days off work. It wasn't ideal, but the garage’s owner had decided to close instead of letting any of them risk the drive. Eddie knew Steve was grateful for that; he always worries when Eddie has to be out in bad weather to get to work.

First thing that morning, as soon as the pups were sniffling and complaining, Eddie got everyone set up and comfortable in the big living room nest that he had helped Steve put together. Violet was immediately curled up next to Steve, resting her head on his swollen belly and closing her eyes. The rest of the pups cuddled in close, and Eddie kissed Steve’s forehead before going to the kitchen to make breakfast.

He made a whole platter of toast, scrambled eggs, and chopped fruit for the whole pack. He made sure everyone was fed and put on a movie. Then he settled into the nest with his family and cuddled them close. Grace and Lucy ended up in his lap, Grace against his chest and Lucy's head on his legs. James curled into his side, and Addie squished between him and Steve. They were barely twenty minutes into the movie when all the pups fell back asleep. Steve leaned his head over to rest on Eddie’s shoulder, despite the fact that it wasn't the easiest angle to get. Eddie kissed the top of his head.

“I love you,” he whispered.

Steve hummed contently, his own eyes starting to slip closed. “I love you too.”

Eddie smiled softly. “Y’know, I really hate when our pups don't feel good, but I can't say I'm upset that they just wanted to cuddle all day.”

He caught the edge of a sleepy smile on Steve’s face. “I know what you mean. Lately, it's like they don't want anything to do with me during the day. All they ever want is to know when you're coming home. Then they get sick, and all they want is to be held and cuddled.”

Eddie frowned slightly, picking up the hint of insecurity in his voice. “You know they love you, right? You're their mom, and an amazing mom at that. You do so much, taking such good care of them, and they will always love you. You know that, don't you?”

Steve sighed softly. “Of course I know that. They just want you because you're not the one here with them all day. Doesn't mean I don't miss all the early stage cuddles sometimes. They think they're gettin’ too big for that, especially Addie and Violet. And of course, Lucy wants to be just like her big sisters.”

Eddie pressed another kiss to his mate’s head. “They'll come back around eventually. Until then, we can just enjoy the time we have with the cuddles that they do want, even if they are all sick.”

Eddie still loves winter, despite how much he doesn't like seeing his pups sick. He and Steve will always take advantage of the extra cuddle time, though. Just another reason he loves the season. Any day, little Sophia would make her way into the world. Eddie couldn't wait to add one more to their pack, especially during his favorite time of the year.

[b4mpyre-k1zz3s]

The Jackass Guys Taking Care of You while you’re Sick HCs!

Johnny Knoxville X Fem!Reader, Chris Pontius X Fem!Reader, Steve-O X Fem!Reader, Bam Margera X Fem!Reader, Ryan Dunn X Fem!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of illness, pet names (ie. darlin’), alcohol

An: While writing this, I was actually bed bound for two days to to a nasty respiratory illness, so I think you could guess where my inspiration came from XD Ironically enough, in between writing this and coming out I got sick again. Boy, what an immune system I have! I get sick frequently and one thing I can always count on making me feel better is writing about the guys :)

You had no appetite, you could barely leave your bed, and you had a temperature of 101.9. Yep, with how sick you were, there was no way you’d be able to go to work.

So you called your boyfriend to help take care of you

Johnny

“Oh, darlin’…”

You were in sore shape, and like the amazing boyfriend he was, Johnny went to helping you feel better right away!

Really, he missed his calling as a doctor or nurse with how sweet and considerate he is to you

Helping you out of bed if you’re weak on your feet and to the shower, assuring you how much better you’ll feel after you get a lil’ steam in your system <3

And after you get out, he’d sit behind you and gently comb/brush our hair for you, no matter how many times you mumbled to him that yes, you were sick, but you could take care of your basic needs yourself

But you secretly enjoyed being babied by him

If you couldn’t stomach much, he’d bring you some warm tea and fruit with a kiss on the forehead before he went to set up the humidifier

When Robitussin and NyQuill weren’t making a dent in your fever, Johnny got a little creative,

“If it doesn’t make you better, you’ll forget you were sick in the first place!” He explained, handing you the mug of hot water, lemon, and a splash of bourbon

A hot toddy, he told you it was called, something his mama used to give him when he was sick at home

And that thing worked.

Your eyes were falling close as you murmured, half asleep already,

“Thank you, Dr. Knoxville…”

Bam

“You look like shit.”

Lack of bedside manner aside, he is probably the last person you want taking care of you while you’re sick.

“Well thanks, Bam- I feel like shit.”

Feeling a little bad for you he asked if you needed anything

So you asked for something to eat- maybe soup and warm tea?

But all you received was an uncrustqble (which you bought because bam doesn’t like the crusts on his sandwiches) and a bottle of water lobbed onto your bed from the doorway.

“D’you think you could grab me some tissues too?”

With a groan, Bam disappeared into the bathroom before you heard all this thudding and an exasperated, “Fuck!”

Before he emerged with a roll of toilet paper.

Sure, maybe he wasn’t Florence Nightingale, but he did what you asked and you honestly didn’t even expect this much from him

He mumbled, disticnt affectionate tone in his voice as a smile crept onto his face as he walked by your bedside to ruffle your hair a little,

“You’re a real pain in the ass, Y/N.”

Chris

“Time for your sponge bath!”

Chris is a firm believer in the fact that laughter is the best medicine

So that’s why he walked into your room wearing one of those sexy nurse outfits.

And while you appreciated the sentiment, you didn’t really need the sponge bath

You also didn’t need the rectal thermometer he proudly offered to you,

“Time to take your temperature! Roll over!” He chuckled that sweet stoner laugh of his, “Kidding, kidding- it’s one’a the normal ones.”

Or when Chris pretended to “accidentally” drop said thermometer next to your bed and bend over to pick it up with his ass in full veiw.

Soon, you began to recognize the click clack of cherry red high heels as the sounds of Nurse Pontius,

And you’d come to anticipate his spectacular bedside manner ;)

In fact, this whole ordeal just left you more endeared to him

Yes, even when he asked to warm your boobies up because in his words, they looked really cold.

“You know, your probably the best nurse I’ve ever had.”

Steve-O

“What’s goin’ on?”

He stumbled into your room, having kind of forgotten why you called him,

Steve isn’t so much of a caregiver as he is a heating pad

But damn it if he isn’t a good heating pad

He’d just walk into the room and lay down next to you, all warm and cozy- a heaven for your shivering, sick body

Despite how nice it felt to cling to him, he isn’t much help besides that given the fact he fell asleep five minutes ago (not that you noticed)

“Hey, do you think you could grab me some-“ Yep. Out cold

So you had to tear yourself from the comfort of your bed to make yourself soup

And when you return, all shivering as you slip back under the covers,

Of course that’s when he wakes up.

You had already started eating when Steve took the bowl from where it was resting on your lap to steal a few bites himself

When you pointed out that he just used the same spoon you did (and would probably get sick too), he just shrugged,

“So what? I don’t care.”

Ryan

“Are you dead yet?”

While there was an unmistakeable tone of sarcasm in Ryan’s voice, he really was concerned

Out of all the guys, he would be the one to get worried sick (no pun intended) about his ill girlfriend :(

But he played it off well, saying that he didn’t have anything to do that weekend despite canceling plans with Bam to look over you

So he might as well sit by your bedside to make sure you’re okay!

Or that he just conveniently rented all of your favorite movies because he wanted to watch them, but you’re free to join him if you wanna watch

And, despite your warnings that you’ll get him sick, he’d have no problem with laying down next to you if you can’t sleep

Because that’s what the two of you usually do! No reason to break routine because of a stupid cold.

“C’mon! With you shiverin’ like that, how could I not? It’s like seein’ a kitten out in the rain…”

[leighlew3]

So...

I know a lot of people out there are feeling lost, helpless, hopeless, and especially perhaps the younger crowd wonders: what now? As someone who has taken hit after hit after hit of trauma, abuse, homelessness, suffering, struggle, loss, illness, etc in my life that at times seems never ending... dealing with perpetual trauma and finding hope in the face of devastation is uhhh sorta my specialty.

*dorky wink and finger guns*

So, first of all on my end let me explain my plans, and then get into the 'why' and what else I plan to do and how I think we all need to tackle these coming days, weeks, months and sadly -- years.

For mental health reasons on the heels of still struggling with my grief and what sadly has become chronic health issues, I'm probably going to spend the foreseeable future hyper-focused on writing, fictional ships, planning my next tattoo, the WNBA free agency, the end of the current NFL season, and doing everything humanly possible to boost my immune system for what will inevitably be the next pandemic/plague that this administration will laugh at as Americans drop dead again because "sCiEncE iSnT rEaL".

And I advise others to find what will help them survive as well.

Here's the thing though: "give up" is not in my DNA. Nor is burying my head and hiding out away from "anything negative", because that's a hella privileged position to take, and I'm not about that life.

So, I will be signing all the petitions possible, making calls to reps who actually have proven they care, protesting when possible, sharing important info on social media, volunteering, etc as well.

Which brings me to the point here: don't give up. Do what you can. But also... recognize your humanity and limitations whether they be financial, physical, psychological or otherwise. Because sacrificing your own sanity and health isn't going to help anybody. And then we're down one less soldier in this battle for the greater good.

IF there's another election in four years (never in my lifetime did I think that would even be a question), we will have a lot of rebuilding to do regarding lost progress. We need to be ready.

In the meantime, dive into something productive and/or comforting for your own life that keeps you fulfilled but also be ready and willing to do what you can help those around you, at key moments. It's that whole "put on your oxygen mask first when the plane is going down" thing. You can't help a damn soul if you can't even breathe.

Be kind to the people you love. Tell them you love them daily. Connect with like-minded individuals. Protect and defend our most vulnerable wherever possible (the disabled, marginalized communities, fellow women/girls, etc). Hug your pets and if you don't have any, consider adopting a rescue.

Vote in the 2026 midterms. Volunteer at or donate to your local women's shelters, homeless shelters, racial justice organizations, LGBTQ+ organizations, animal rescues, environmental organizations, nursing homes for the elderly, etc.

We have to find the balance between self-care for ourselves and making our own lives tolerable amidst this bs, especially any of us who belong to one or more of the above groups -- while also plugging in to help others and the community as a whole, as needed.

And trust me, it will be needed. More than ever.

You're not alone. Even if IRL you feel like you're the only person in your family or circle who hasn't 'drank the Kool Aid' and lost all sense of reason or basic human empathy.

If you're reading this right now -- please take a second to take some deep breaths, step away, and start setting both short-term and long-term goals for yourself and your life that will help you moving forward so you can continue to fight for yourself, and for us all.

Please remember, we're in this together.

I'm with you. 💜