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mirkwoodshewolf · 4 years

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My life, The Doctor; 10th Doctor x Nurse!reader

*Author’s note*

Hey guys I know it’s been awhile but I finally decided to work on another story outside the Queen/BoRhap fandom. Now this request came from @originalposter96 idk if this is your user name anymore but I hope you’ll be able to see it.

NOW WARNING HERE I AM NOT A DOCTOR OR A NURSE!!! So I know absolutely NOTHING about surgeries or anything like that, so this may seem as lazy writing (sorry) but I hope you all still enjoy this fic. So since this does involve the reader being a Nurse there is a hospital involved, surgeries, blood, removing bullets, gunshots, and a slight trigger warning for Domestic violence (not between the Doctor and reader just some side characters).

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things

@waddles03

@psychosupernatural

@dancingcoolcat

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels

@ixchel-9275

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There have been many wonderous places I’ve been to, many wonderful people and creatures I’ve met. They all come and go in my life, whether through my adventures or by time itself all beings enter my life one way or another. But throughout all my previous lives, every single being in the Universe that I had ever known, one person was above and beyond special.

Her name was (Y/n) (L/n). And she—is and will always be the love of my life.

For a human she was extremely clever, sharp as a whip, but she was also kind, loyal, and the one thing about her is that she never gives up on anyone. As a Head nurse—oh did I forget to mention that? Yes my (y/n) is one of the best Nurses in all of England.

Anyone in her time or even in the future when she finally becomes an M.D. will tell you that she is one of the best. In fact she finds out future cures for worldwide pandemics (of course sometimes her board would deny her research and billions of people perish. Rotten bastards). Anyways, my (y/n) truly is one of a kind amongst the humans and I am glad to have met her.

And won’t she be surprised when she sees me. It had been awhile since I had last seen her (maybe since the day she graduated medical school just a year ago her time) and now with the Cybermen and Daleks taken care of, now’s a good a time to go see her.

I set the coordinates for her time period and flipped the switch allowing the TARDIS to activate and soon going through time and space.

*My POV*

April 14th, 2015, 10:05pm. It had been a long day. 5 surgeries, 3 MRI scans, a cancer treatment report, and 2 women in labor later, I was just about to drop right there on the floor. I was thankful that in like 20min. my shift was gonna be over.

“You look like you’re about to drop dead right on the spot.” I snapped out of my sleepy stage to see my good friend Chrissie Lang. She and I had graduated from the same Med school together, and had most of the same classes together. She and I are each other’s support system cause in this line or work—it can take a toll on you.

I remember this one time this woman came in at 6 months pregnant bleeding profusely from her legs. We both knew that she was suffering a miscarriage so we told to do what her Doctor told us to do, but by the end of it Chrissie was completely destroyed. She always wanted to be a mum and seeing something like that happen made her fearful for even trying to go for a baby with her and her boyfriend.

So for the next ten minutes after helping the woman out, Chrissie and I just held onto each other and shed our tears before we had to brush it off and move onto the next case we had. For those that say being a Doctor or a Nurse is the easiest job to do, they’re liars. The job can hit you not just physically, but mentally as well.

“After 2 days of not sleeping, I just might. Put on my tombstone (Y/n) (l/n). Died with a heart of gold and a stomach of caffeine.”

“That’s true cause I swear girl, you’re probably the most caffeine addicted person I’ve ever met.”

“I can stop whenever I want, these are just choices.” We both chuckled softly.

“Excuse me ladies, but would you mind helping me with something?” a familiar voice said to me. We both turned to our right and standing there with a bouquet of my favorite color of carnations was the Doctor.

“Of course, what can we do for you sir?” asked Chrissie.

“Hey Chris, why don’t you let me handle this?” I suggested.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, besides you’re about to clock out sooner than me, you go on and head home. I’ll meet you there.”

“Okay, see you later (n/n).” she bid the Doctor good evening and he did the same. Once Chrissie left the lobby, I turned towards the Doctor smiling widely as he did the same.

I immediately embraced him and he picked me up and twirled me around, the two of us laughing together.

“Oh I swear every time I come back, you get more beautiful.” He said as he set me down.

“I’m just happy you got to come back at all.” I said as I cupped his face in my hands. His eyes grew soft as he placed his hands over mine.

“I know what I do is dangerous, but you know why I do what I do.” I nodded in understandment.

“I mean hell it wouldn’t be any different if you were human and worked as a police officer or a fireman. Hell we humans live in a dangerous world, anything could kill us.”

“Which is what makes me the Doctor.”

“It does indeed.” I stroked his cheek with my thumb and that’s when he reached for the bouquet he had set down on the front desk and he presented it to me. “You always know just how to cheer me up.”

“Figured you might’ve had a long, rough day. Thought a little color could be used to brighten up your day.”

“It sure did, thank you my love.”

“Anything for you my life.”

That was a thing between us. When we first started dating each other, we had a little code/nickname for each other. I call the Doctor ‘my love’ because ever since he literally dropped from the sky onto my doorstep, he’s unlike anyone I’ve ever met.

He’s quirky, bit of a goofball, can sometimes blow his top but that’s only when something really dangerous happens and he’s under stress (yeah I’ve traveled with him a couple of times during my time at Med school), but he’s also loyal, brave, beyond clever, and he always puts everyone else, especially the human race above himself. For the last of his species, he’s an incredibly selfless person.

He calls me ‘his life’ because whenever things get too hard for him, since he and I have been through some rough stuff due to our day to day life, I always try my best to comfort him. I know that he’s lost people, just like I have on a job, and it’s not an easy thing to get pass.

So we both try to be each other’s support system. We know there is always loss in the world, but the thing is to not let that be the driving point that always controls your life. You can use it to make you stronger, not let it drag you down any further.

“So how has my brave Dr. (L/n) been since I last saw her?”

“You know I’m not a Doctor yet, I still gotta go through the nursing program and then rise up in the ranks before I finally get it.”

“Oh rubbish, you should’ve been a Doctor right as you graduated.”

“Yeah well not according to the chief here.” I muttered annoyedly.

“Honestly though, that old fool wouldn’t know a good doctor if it turned around and bit him in the arse.” I shushed him but couldn’t help myself from giggling softly.

“You can be so cruel sometimes you know that?” he playfully shrugged.

“Only when it comes to people who hurt you.” he wrapped his arms around me and pecked my cheek. “How much longer till your shift ends?” I turned to the clock and responded.

“10 minutes. But…..I could clock out a little early since there hasn’t been a call.”

“Playing hooky ehh? You cheeky little minx.” He grinned like the Cheshire cat. As we leaned closer to each other about to kiss, the doors suddenly burst open and a frantic voice called out.

“HELP! HELP! MY BROTHER NEEDS HELP! HELP!” a blonde woman around her mid 30’s came in holding her brother who looked to be around the same age as her. Quite possible they might’ve been twins cause I could see some similarities on the both of them. Her brother was completely covered in blood and his lips were blue from blood loss.

“Okay Miss calm down. I NEED A STRECHER STAT!!” soon enough the nurses who were still here for the nightshift ran off as I walked towards the two siblings. “What happened?”

“My ex-boyfriend jumped us. He thought—he thought my brother was a new boyfriend of mine and he—he—oh god this is my f-fault!”

“No, no, no Miss this is not your fault.” As I tried to calm her down, the stretcher bed soon came in and a group of nurses helped the man on his back and began cutting away his shirt.

“I’m seeing 3 bullet wounds to the chest and one on his abdomen. Let’s move him!” I get onto the top right of him as we wheel him into the OR to save his life while another nurse stayed behind with the sister to calm her down.

I washed my hands and arms frantically and thoroughly before getting my shrubs and mask on. Already the destine nurses, assistants and now our head Doctor, Dr. Murphy came in and he said.

“What have we got?”

“Four shots in the upper body, two in the lower. He might’ve lost a pint of blood at least.” Answered Nurse Yasmin.

“Maybe 2-3. His BP is dropping fast.” Added one of the male Nurses, Derek.

“Okay, any of those bullets rupture an organ?” asked Dr. Murphy.

“The one in his lower abdomen is just a centimeter before hitting his small intestine. If we don’t get that bullet out first he could bleed out internally.”

“Okay keep an eye on his BP. I need fluids, scalpels, suction tubs, retractors……”

“Lucy….”the man groaned out.

“(L/n), do your thing.” Said Dr. Murphy. I nodded and came up to the man and said.

“Sir? Sir can you hear me?”

“Yes. Where—where am I?”

“You’re at the hospital. Your sister brought you in. Don’t worry she’s okay and told us what happened.”

“Good….good……She’s safe. I—I’d never forgive myself if—” he started fading out.

“Hey, hey, hey sir, sir stay with me now. What’s your name? Can you tell me your name?”

“Barry.”

“Okay Barry, I’m (Y/n) (l/n). My team and I are gonna help you but you need to stay with me for just a bit. Don’t give up on me.”

“It hurts….it hurts so badly.”

“I know, I know.”

“Give him a shot of morphine to numb the pain.” Dr. Murphy ordered. Suzie got the morphine bag and needle ready and slowly stuck the needle into his left arm. Barry hissed and I said to him.

“This’ll help lessen the pain. You won’t feel the pain as we try to get the bullets out of you Barry. But you gotta stay with me, okay?”

“I’ll—try……” he mumbled tiredly. I placed my hand on his cheek and looked up at his vitals and saw his BP was continuing to drop and his heartbeat was going down.

As I looked around me, frantically Dr. Murphy and all the nurses were working together trying to get all the bullets out of him one by one, less we risk him bleeding out as two teams tried to work out a single bullet. With the main one near his intestines cleared, Dr. Murphy and Nurse Helen worked on getting the few out of his upper chest.

All the while Barry kept groaning every now and then and his eyes were fading fast.

“Barry. Barry hey look at me boy. If you can’t do this for yourself, do it for your sister. From what she said about who had done this to you, you need to stay alive for her. What you did was heroic, but don’t let her see that that selfish son of a bitch won. She needs you, your family needs you.”

“I got the blood transfusion he now needs. Thankfully, we had our last bag of B+ in the storage bin.” A young male nurse who had only worked here for a year, Cody exclaimed as he came through the doors.

“Alright, start the transfusion now! We just got the last bullet out and his BP is dropping faster and faster!”

“You hear me Barry? We’re getting you your life back. But it’s gonna be up to you now. Don’t let him be the victor, not tonight! You hear me?” he groaned and looked right up at me and he whispered groggily to me.

“Why do you care so much?” I took a deep breath in and said as I stroked the hair from his face.

“Because so many people everywhere are already dying every day. Some because time has run out on them, others for serving their country, but there are the odds of people dying for now reason whatsoever. Or for stupid reasons that shouldn’t be a reason why someone should have to die, especially if it’s protecting their family member from some arsehole who can’t tell the meaning of the word No. Now your sister is out there waiting for you, if she loses you, she’ll have lost her Ace. Her only friend that has stuck by her through whatever it was that her ex-boyfriend did to her.”

“He…..always was a……selfish prick!” he coughed out.

“I’ll bet he was. But she survived him, and now you’ve got to survive too. Don’t give him that satisfaction that he took a life tonight. Can you do that for me?” he nodded softly and whispered out again.

“You’d make a great motivational speaker.”

“I was on the debate team back in secondary school. If you wanna hear more, you’ll just have to stick around Earth for a little while longer.” After his final stitches were in place, the blood transfusion began and it was then Dr. Murphy had Cody, Darren, and Helen wheel him into ICU. From there, Barry would be monitored 24/7 till he woke up from his post-surgery coma.

Dr. Murphy took off his mask and gloves before turning to me and he said to me.

“Nice job keeping him talking.”

“Just doing my job sir.”

*Doctor’s POV*

Unaware to anyone else, I had snuck into the upper levels to witness the surgery in progress. I watched as (y/n) stayed right by the young man’s side and kept giving him encouragement to stay alive. But not for himself, for his sister.

This. Is why she would one day go down in the medical books as the world’s greatest Female doctor’s. She always put the lives of the people her patient’s love over their own, then psychologically, the patient’s bodies would continue to fight on until finally they would find the strength to recover.

Of course she will have her failures cause that’s life. You can’t save everyone but you can work harder at saving the ones you can save in the future. She doesn’t let one failure get her down, that’s sometimes the curse of being a Doctor. When you lose people, it can really affect you. Even when those closest to you are the ones you lose. Believe me I’ve been there millions of times throughout my 10 life cycles (she’s lucky she’ll only deal with one).

By morning, the lad Barry managed to make a full recovery. His sister, Lucy repeatedly thanked all the doctors and nurses who helped out with saving her brother before giving her statement to the police.

I waited outside by the TARDIS for my beloved Doctor to clock out, and when she finally came out the poor dear looked exhausted. I extended my arms out for her and she gave me a tired smile before collapsing into my arms.

“Just when I thought I could get at least one early night in.” her voice muffled against my trench coat but I still managed to hear her. I softly laughed and rocked her gently as I assured her.

“I know, but hey if you hadn’t been here, that young man would’ve died.”

“Oh you know it was Dr. Murphy as well as a few other nurses that actually did the real operation to save him.”

“True, but you were just as important if not more. You kept him awake and talking.” I shrugged tiredly agree-to-disagreeing. “Now then, I think after a night like that, and from lack of sleep these past couple of days you deserve to be pampered and see the wonders of the galaxy.”

“How did you—”

“Besides the bags under your eyes, I’ve seen the amount of Starbucks cups at your apartment.” She groaned embarrassingly. God this girl and her coffee addiction, truthfully I never understood why humans choose that as their beverage of choice. I myself prefer a good Earl grey or even sometimes Jasmine tea but ugh that horrible bland stuff they call coffee?! Never. Again. Will that drink touch my taste buds.

“Care to show me the wonders of time and space?”

“Need a pick me up boost?” she nodded. I kicked open the doors of the TARDIS and hopped inside before extending my hand out to her saying, “First question is though; do you trust me?”

“Always my love.” She replied with that loving soft smile of hers as she took my hand.

“Then brace yourself my life, because I’m going to show you the sound of the Universe.”

“You mean…..”

“Indeed I do my love, the Music of the Spheres.” Her smile grew wider and I pulled her into the TARDIS before shutting the doors behind her and together the two of us ran towards the consoles of the TARDIS and I punched in the coordinates and soon we took off for the Music of the Spheres.

And who knows where our next adventure would lead after that? So long as I got my love, my life, my Doctor with me by my side.

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enviroblog-spring21 · 3 years

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Blog XIV: Ditch the Desert, Come to the Ocean State

Benjamin Franklin is famous for saying there are only two things that are certain in life: death and taxes, I would also add water as another thing in life that is certain and without water, life as we know it is impossible.

Here in Rhode Island (the Ocean State) the majority of our identity is based around water, yet even we squander the water resources we are blessed to have.[] Water has increasingly been the subject of national headlines in the past decade.

As Chapter 20 of Living in the Environment points out, we kicked off the 2010s with the BP Deepwater Horizon Oil Spill. Petroleum leaked from the off-shore oil rig for three months and polluted 1,300 miles of coastline, enough to cover Rhode Island’s entire coastline three times.

Chapter 20 also notes that 2014 saw the start of the half-decade long Flint Water Crisis. Michigan’s state government poisoned the city of Flint’s water supply with lead in the name of austerity.[] The water was so corrosive that autoparts manufacturers in the city complained that they could not use the water as it tore through their parts, and people who drank the water suffer life-altering effects from the government’s cruel policies.[]

While Flint, MI held its grip on national headlines for months, if not a year or two, there is one place in particular that has held the nation’s attention since the 2010s and into the current decade: California.

Between 2011 and 2017, Californians endured the most prolonged, severe drought in recent memory, and among the longest and most intense in the state’s history.

Speaking for my fellow urban studies majors at Fordham University, from the endless sprawl and crisscrossing freeways of Los Angeles, to the expansive gentrification and strict housing covenants of San Francisco, California is the embodiment of everything that makes our blood boil. As an urban studies major, I also tend to look at California’s water woes through the lens of urban planning.

The guiding case study for Chapter 13 in Living in the Environment centers around the Colorado River. The system of dams and reservoirs that make up the river’s anthropogenic patrimony provide cities from Los Angeles, California to Boulder, Colorado with electricity, farming irrigation, and drinking water just to name a few.

The ecosystem services the Colorado River provides are already stretched to its limits. The spectacular growth of cities like Los Angeles takes a chainsaw to the natural capital it relies on from the Colorado River.

The mammoth amounts of water consumed by metropolitan populations in desert climates obscures the fact that they are in fact in the desert. Why do we continue to be shocked when there is a drought in the desert?

There is a reason why so few desert cities rise to populations as high as Los Angeles, or grow as fast as Tucson. Deserts are notoriously harsh, its arid climate coupled with scarce sources of water is the reason why many people have died crossing them.

Industrial methods of irrigation, construction of dams and reservoirs, plus the advents of air conditioning and hydroelectricity give Los Angeles the ability to hold over ten million people, and former president Trump the ability to plan his next coup attempt from what was once swampland.

Industrial technology advanced to a point where we can thickly settle environments once too harsh for us. Now, the population of Americans living in desert climates has become too large to sustain the ecosystem services and natural capital that industrialism in part helps deliver to them.

To escape what anthropogenic change has wrought in the form of endless drought, frequent wildfires, unbearable heat, and smog, I am arguing that people currently residing in desert cities should consider moving to the Ocean State.

I know that the entire state of Rhode Island can fit into a lot of desert counties multiple times and that the entire population of the Ocean State is only one-tenth to that of Los Angeles County, believe me, I know.

Rhode Island is so small, however, that if desert climate migrants concentrate in Providence, growth will not only encocmpass the entire state, but also include other states like Massachusetts and Connecticut. As the center for new climate migrants from the southwest, Providence could possibly hold its own against Boston, perhaps even New York.

I can already hear people saying that moving from the desert to the ocean is just swapping one climate crisis for another.

What I would say to that, however, is that although Rhode Island is the Ocean State, most of it is not directly at sea level as, for example, Florida is. A defining characteristic often found just feet away from our shoreline is the state’s steep rolling hills. Providence, in fact, is so steep that for a time we had the cable car system in New England, as trolleys often could not climb College Hill. For the amount of coastline that we have, I do not anticipate that even our settlements that are at sea level will be permanently lost at the mercy of the ocean. Encouraging climate migrants to move to Rhode Island could help fund sustainable coastline resilience initiatives to stave off the sea.

Booming population growth, of course, requires a lot of urban planning. We could forgo the mistakes of last century and create vibrant, affordable, sustainable, and dense communities and revitalize those that are still feeling the pains of deindustrialization.

As for what climate migrants from desert cities get in Rhode Island that they do not get in the desert: plentiful water supplies (no, we don’t just have salt water.) Although we may have to source water from other places, we have plenty of options, unlike most desert settlements that are simply not equipped to sustain such mammoth human populations.

I know that this is a far off and lofty vision, marketing the Ocean State as a climate refuge sounds like an oxymoron. To at least have a vision, is to begin lending a hand to future and current victims of the climate crisis.

Rhode Island is my favorite place on Earth, I want nothing more than for other people to make it home.

Epilogue: Waterfootprint.org is a website where you can calculate your water footprint, i.e. the amount of water you consume in a given year

My water footprint is 645.4 meters cubed, however, the website only calculated this from my country of residence, gender (somehow,) my diet (vegetarian) and the amount of yearly income consumed by myself which I had to estimate. I do not believe that this is accurate, in fact it is likely significantly higher considering that I have a front and backyard with a swimming pool. If my parents and I lived in their childhood neighborhood of Federal Hill it would be significantly lower considering we would not have a yard, garden, or a swimming pool to tend to.

Population density within cities makes them more environmentally friendly. People in dense urban areas often use less water and less inputs of almost everything since dwellings are smaller and proximity to basic necessities is often within walking distance. Cities have to be part of the equation if we are to solve the climate crisis, just because I am closer to "nature" here on Conanicut Island does not mean living here is more environmentally friendly and less wasteful.

WC: 1,067

Question: Is anybody tracking potential migration patterns as water resources become more scarce?

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shardminds · 4 years

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fortune favours the brave

pairing: emma swan/killian jones rated: m (for language & depiction of injury & just to be safe) wc: 5189 pacific rim!au

She passes the pseudo-drift but Killian can’t quite meet her eyes afterwards and Emma catches herself wondering, with clenched fists, if it’s all worth it.

just a warning, this is an open-ended work, meaning the ending is up to your own interpretation and i most likely will not be writing anything else to clarify... unless i decide to have another crack at this au down the line and completely rewrite the whole thing but i am a lazy bitch above all else with too many things to do so please don't get your hopes up!

my initial tag for this was "dealing with the weight of a neurological bond that reveals a lot more about yourself than you’d like." but ao3 said it was too long

this was intended as a birthday present to myself but it's 12 days late and i won't apologise.

also available on ao3 ♠

@artistic-writer is my saviour and i love her.

As soon as the pincer hits her spine, the simulation is over. Quicker than death could ever have captured her, quicker than the pain she was expecting in her lower back, quicker than blinking past a fallen beast and thinking it long past dead. If it were real, she wouldn’t have to deal with the disappointment of her superiors as they marked another tally in the opposite column of their tablets.

Kaiju: 3, Swan: 0.

Pixels dissipate into the air, audios and visuals power down as the relay gel leaks from her display, Killian sighs over the comms and the four walls of the training centre scream failure. Unclasping the plug at her neck, she collapses to the floor. Defeated.

“If your intention was to get paralysed, love, congratulations.” He’s exasperated, words clipped, and she knows he’s probably running his hand through his hair in that way he does or rolling his eyes or praying for this to be over. She can picture it so well because she’s been there, supervising rangers through the same process. That had been her job, her safe space. Then Marshal Mills had coerced her into a compatibility trial with the promise of a bigger bunk and a night off with the last bottle of bourbon on deck. Suddenly, nowhere was safe anymore. “It’s just a simple test,” she’d said, rolling her eyes at Emma’s reluctance to even try. “What harm can it do?”

If he catches the curses under her breath as she stands, he doesn’t let on.

Killian had managed to pass her simulated drift space on the second attempt—eviscerating a CAT 3 with ease and ignoring the distractions along the way. He didn’t talk about what stopped him the first time. Neither did she.

She was not so lucky, struggling not to forget herself in the memories of his past. Each step deeper into the consciousness he’d moulded dragged her further away from the task at hand. Each step closer to finding out what keeps Killian Jones awake at night is a step away from truly knowing him. She felt it all. His pain, grief and loss coming in overwhelming waves, only serving to intensify her own. Each time she failed, she understood him a little bit better and lost herself a little bit more.

Robin said it’s the trauma that helps their compatibility and the resilience in light of such pain. Will said it’s because they’re both insufferable cunts.

You can’t choose your drift partner.

“Again.” Adjusting the helmet slightly, she pulls up her vitals on the inner screen. BP a little high, heart rate too, brainwaves stable. Good enough. If she could just get past the random-access brain impulse triggers, the lure of Killian’s fabricated conflicts, she’d be showering the fabricated city in fabricated Kaiju Blue.

(Of course, she’d never really do that. Regina doesn’t need a reason to resent her.)

“Swan, take five.” The comm in her inner ear buzzes. Killian, again. There’s a tension to his tone, as if he could snap at a moment's notice. It’s not easy, having someone else inside your head—even when it’s not real. It’s worse when every inch of it is projected in agonisingly high definition to your commanding officers. Emma’s been living through his trauma while he’s been forced to watch it back, time and time again. She’ll get it next time.

Next time.

Always next time.

“No, count me down.”

“Swan—”

“My vitals are fine! No bleeds, no dizziness, motor function all good.” The CNS link connects to the back of her neck with a twist of her wrist and a dull click. Power vibrates through the plug suit, humming like the anticipation Emma can feel beneath her own skin. “One more try, I’m almost there.”

There’s no response from Killian. No quip or complaint. He’s silent as Emma closes her eyes and opens them to the darkness of the drift. The next voice she hears is Robin’s.

“Five.”

Her world is blue. Warped. Memories zipping past her that she does and doesn’t remember. Emma recognises one woman’s face from her previous pseudo-drifts. She has a name somewhere.

“Four.”

The woman walks off to some kind of middle distance, between nothing and nowhere. She indicates for Emma to follow with the crook of her finger and a smile.

“Three.”

It’s not Emma she’s seeing.

“Stop chasing it, Emma. Two.”

Taking a breath, Emma wills away the apparition, tuning in to the pounding of her own heartbeat and that of someone else’s — Killian’s, strong and steady. It grounds her.

“Prepare for Neural Handshake.”

When the Kaiju pincer swings for her, she slices it clean off.

She passes the pseudo-drift but Killian can’t quite meet her eyes afterwards and Emma catches herself wondering, with clenched fists, if it’s all worth it.

A CAT 3 and two CAT 2’s attack what’s left of San Francisco a week later in the largest triple event in recorded history and yes, it’s definitely worth it.

Ruby and Graham are deployed in Lone Wolf, along with two Jaegers from Alaska. The fight, like all fights, is raw and too close. Always too close. They return half a day later, lucky to have made it out with their lives. The bags under Jefferson’s eyes carry the weight of the world as he reports back to the bridge with the news.

They’ll never pilot again.

Killian finds her later, sat atop Frozen Serenity with a half-empty hip flask and a cigarette. He doesn’t question her or the tears she wears. He holds her, one arm wrapping around Emma’s shoulders, pulling her into his chest. It’s too close, too much but not enough. It’s times like this—times of wordless understanding—that she’s glad of the bond they supposedly have.

Thankfully, he doesn’t waste his words with reassurance. Regina had spent the last thirty minutes on the comms for everyone to hear. The threat was eliminated; victory, but at what cost? Ruby and Graham had been wheeled in on gurneys, surrounded by medics and techs and escorted directly to isolation. Their Jaeger followed shortly after, complete with thick gashes to its middle and a viciously pierced conn-pod leaking rivulets of coolant and Kaiju blood. It didn’t take Emma long to see why they’d ushered the pilots away.

Sneaking off had been a non-issue.

“Next time,” The warmth of his body offers only slight comfort from the chill of the hangar but she’s grateful for it. “It’ll be us.”

“We might not even drift yet. The simulation is nothing like the real thing.” The lump in her throat has her choking around the words. The fragility of it all should frighten her, but it doesn’t. She’s not scared. There’s no time for fear.

“We will.”

“How do you know?”

“It’s called trust.” When he smiles, sad but hopeful, the tears come again.

It’s all worth it, even if she loses herself in the process.

Jolly Roger, a Mark 3 with a history of fallen pilots, had been in pretty bad shape when Emma had seen it come through the east coast bunker a year ago. With a compromised pod and basically no left side, it was a mess.

Will had already sized the wreck up for parts before it’d even docked in the hangar.

“There’s no way it’ll run again. Core to Wolf, pod fixed up for Snow’s Mark 4, shocks to whoever needs them most and the rest for scraps and refurbs.” He’d said, around a mouthful of instant mac and cheese. Emma rolled her eyes, grabbing a bite of her own meagre rations. “Bet as much as you want, you know I’m right.”

After six months, when Marshal Mills announced they needed a co-pilot for Jolly, Emma collected her prize with a smile and a disgruntled “Fuck off.” from the mechanic.

Seeing it now, all shiny and new, with a fresh core, updated weapon systems and a slick paint job was like looking at a different machine entirely. Killian has the same awestruck glaze to his expression that she has.

He says something under his breath that sounds like “I missed you.”

Three days later, atop the bunker looking out at the wasteland the eastern seaboard has become, Killian finds her again. The horizon is permanently tinged green these days, thick with smog rising from the polluted city that used to be Boston. It’s something else now, something new entirely. New York had really done a number on the east coast.

“So,” he starts, a six pack in his good hand and a thick file—her file—in his mechanical one. “It seems that the fate of the earth relies on us getting intimate, love.”

Emma shrugs his comment off with an eye roll. “In your dreams.”

“In my dreams, we wouldn’t be drinking this backwash,” she catches the bundle of cans as it falls to her lap and pulls two free of the casing. Killian slumps down beside her, a welcome warmth against her side. He’s always warm. “And you’d be wearing a lot less.”

“Pervert.” Her cheeks flush from the windchill and not because of the wink he sends her way as he takes a can from her lap.

He shrugs, gulping back his beer. “I’ve been called a lot worse.”

“Why does that not surprise me?”

“I doubt anything could, lass.”

He reads in relative silence, which Emma appreciates, only pausing to ask questions at the redacted statements in her story. There’s no point in hiding anything from him now—soon, he’ll see it all. There’s something about Killian Jones that she trusts and she’s not exactly sure why.

“You were there? In New York?” He thumbs the report sheet, filled with more censoring than words. She doesn’t remember much of it; being eighteen, the toils of pregnancy, wrongful imprisonment, the first Kaiju attack on the east coast, holding her child to her chest as the walls crumbled. The memories are all so distant, it almost feels like someone else lived them.

Emma nods. “Unfortunately.”

Killian doesn’t push for the details; all the relevant ones are written on the sheet he’s holding. How they’d found her bleeding beneath rubble and dust, clutching the bundle of blankets and the body within. There hadn’t been time for a funeral.

She’s shaking when he takes her hand.

“It was my first deployment. On a CAT 4, no less.” He traces circles around her knuckles as if they’re anything but strangers. She doesn’t have it in her heart to stop him. “Cataclysm, they called it. The ugliest bloody thing I’d ever seen. Liam, the comedian he is—was, spent the whole fight calling it all kinds of names as we tore it to pieces bit by bit.” He takes another sip of his can, eyes locked on the horizon. “I felt him die that day.”

His thumb doesn't stop tracing its pattern, but she grips his hand tighter—part shock, part understanding.

“Jewel never stood a chance. The emp left us wide open and the blasted thing used its last breath to launch at the conn-pod and—”

“You don’t have to, Killian.” She whispers, beer forgotten at their feet. “You don’t have to relive it.”

“But I do. Every time I step foot in the hangar, I relive it. Every time I drift, or spar or train. Every time I look in the mirror I see his face staring back at me.” He sighs, letting his posture slip further. He’s no longer a Ranger. He’s a lost boy. The grief he carries, the guilt, is something she recognises. “I miss him, Emma, and there’s nothing I can do about that.”

Wind blows, alarms ring, sun filters through the murky atmosphere and casts them both in its golden glow and Emma Swan pulls him in for a hug.

He stiffens in her embrace before leaning into it, letting the tension dissipate beneath her touch. It’s intimate in a way that doesn’t need words and her breath catches at the sight of a teardrop on his cheek.

Putting space between them again is hard, but necessary.

“I know you’ve probably heard this a thousand times, but you better be prepared to hear it a thousand more. It’s not your fault. It was never your fault. It will never be your fault. We’re Rangers. We’re disposable. The world is ending and we’re the first line of defence. If we fall—” He’s watching her so intently, hanging on her every word.

There’s no way to soften the blow of a death sentence.

“We’re going to die in a Jaeger, Killian, that much is inevitable. We won’t grow old. We won’t pass in our sleep. We’ll go screaming at the hands of a Kaiju and, I don’t know about you, but I plan on taking a fair share of those fuckers with me in the process.”

A nod.

A squeeze.

A gulp.

He’s still holding her hand when they return to the artificial warmth of the hangar.

He used to drink black coffee, dark and bitter. She hates it, preferring sweetness over caffeination in her warm beverages but getting her own would require a trip to the cafeteria earlier than she’d like to be awake. A few seconds of grimacing over the taste is worth it for the extra half hour of sleep. Killian’s an early riser—of course, he is. It’s a wonder they’re compatible at all.

Killian initially tried to put up a fight over it, hold it out of her reach like kids on the playground or finish it off before Emma could even think of crawling out of her quarters, but she wore him down, little by little.

They’re working on Jolly with Will when she takes a sip, stealing the travel mug from his hand and already half wincing for the unsweetened assault. When surprisingly palatable coffee hits her tongue, she almost chokes. It’s not half bad; no acrid punch of burnt grounds, no grainy aftertaste. Instead, it’s sweet. Creamy. Not what she was expecting at all.

“What’s this?” She takes a sniff at the lid incredulously. Is that… syrup?

“According to Ms Lucas, this is what poses as a caramel latte these days. Filled to the brim with sugar, spice and all things nice, just how you like it.” Will hands him a tablet, outlining the Jaeger’s current specifications. Emma understands enough of it to get by—she’s more attuned to reading neural charts, not the gibberish the engineers put out—but Killian revels in the details. He doesn’t even look her way as he speaks, fully engrossed in the graphs, comparisons and visuals. It also means he doesn’t notice Emma eyeing up how good he looks with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and a grease stain on his left cheek. Just the right amount of dishevelled. “Is there any way we can drop a few tonnes to help increase speed and manoeuvrability?”

Will peers at the tablet, overseeing the stats with a critical eye. “No, mate. Not without losing vital armouring.”

“What about swapping out the nuclear core?” Killian hums, swiping to the next screen.

“Don’t be daft, Killian. It’s brand new.”

“The arc-whip?”

“I’m gonna cut in and say no on that one.” Emma interjects, surprised that she even managed to drag her attention away from the warm, sweet beverage in her hands or the enigma of a man that let her take it. The arc-whip is her preferred weapon—combining both distance and close combat, great for the CAT 2’s and smaller CAT 3’s that like to stay just out of reach or dragging back the larger beasts from getting further inland. She’s the one that suggested it be added to Jolly’s arsenal in the first place.

“Come on, love.” Handing her the tablet and tapping a few menus, Killian points out Jolly’s stats without it. Their speed would be improved and their power longevity, but they’d be sacrificing their range completely. “Having an arc-whip and a plasma cannon is overkill.”

The mechanic chuckles, coming to her other side and throwing an arm around their shoulders. “Technically, the plasma cannon is overkill anyway. Massive power drain.”

“Don’t you start.” Killian bats his arm away and Will cocks an eyebrow in challenge.

“Just because I’m right.”

Before either of them can respond, the hangar shudders as alarms blare. The alarm they all dread.

The Breach.

The CAT 2—Axefury—with armour piercing spines and nasty blade-like mandibles, emerges just off the coast of Florida, stalking towards the shore.

Frozen Serenity is deployed, piloted by sisters Anna and Elsa.

The fight takes an hour.

Killian brings her another coffee as they watch the battle from the command centre. He doesn’t say a word, wrapping his arm around her shoulder as she tenses against the cold realisation.

It could’ve been them.

Next time, it will be.

When he knocks her on her ass, straddling her waist with his sparring staff pressed to her throat, Killian’s eyes are the bluest she’s ever seen, and it takes her a second to remember where they are. He smirks, allowing her space to breathe while keeping her thoroughly pinned down.

“Normally, I’d prefer to do other more enjoyable activities with a woman on her back.” With a voice like that, velvet and grit, Emma’s not sure if she wants to push him away or pull him closer. The watchful eye of Marshal Mills keeps her straight. The last thing anyone needs is a show. She struggles just enough to make him cocky before retaliating, using his own weight against him.

In a heartbeat, he’s the one on his back, head caught in a lock between Emma’s thighs. In the time it takes for him to realise what’s going on, eyes widening as he realises where he is, it’s too late. His weapon clatters to the edge of the crash mat, useless.

“For future reference,” She pants, squeezing her legs tighter until Killian taps out against the floor. “I prefer to be on top.”

He laughs and, despite the patrol alarm blaring down the hall and Regina’s eye roll, the world feels a little lighter.

When they drift in Jolly for the first time, the phantom woman from the pseudo-drift is nowhere to be seen. There’s a blip where Killian gets caught up in visions of destruction and earthquakes and rivers of blue eroding the streets of New York, but just as Emma feels the echoes of her memories in his mind, they’re gone. He’s in her head. An uncomfortable yet reassuring presence that she never thought she’d be able to endure again.

“Neural bridge initiated and holding strong. Well done, guys.” Robin chirps over the speakers, dragging them out of the initial drift space and back to their shared reality. She lifts her left arm as Killian lifts his right and they join the jaeger’s metallic palms in a salute that rumbles through the bowels of the hangar.

Cheers erupt from the comm lines as scientists and pilots and soldiers line the walkways and balconies to celebrate their achievement.

She can feel the haze of his irritation through the link.

“We’re another shot at hope for them.” Her uncalibrated right-hand takes his uncalibrated left wrist just above the brace of his prosthetic. He doesn’t flinch but his thoughts stutter, interlaced with images of her soft smile and memories of each time they’d sparred, each stolen hour on the rooftops, each close encounter, each moment that could’ve been an almost, or a maybe. Emma pauses just long enough to imagine What if?

She shakes them away. They owe each other that much.

“We’re a suicide mission.” He’s right and his voice buzzes in the back of her skull. If the comm deck picked up on his words, they don’t respond.

“Yeah,” she lets his arm fall back to his side, making sure her left side—the one that’s wired into the eight thousand tonne government-approved death machine—stays relatively still. “But it’s worth it.”

“Is it?”

She can’t tell the difference between his words and his thoughts right now.

Static crackles in the conn-pod before Robin’s voice calls out again. “Ready to take her for a spin?”

She kisses him, with trembling palms pressed to his chest. Because she wants to. Because she can. Because, more than anything else, she isn’t ready to die. Not now. He is slow to respond, one hand on her shoulder ready to put distance between them at a moment's notice, the other at her waist, pulling her closer. The corridor leading to their quarters is empty and, beneath the harsh light, he tastes like the coffee they’d shared for breakfast.

He doesn’t push her away. She’s grateful for that.

The absence of Killian in her head should be a relief but it isn’t. It feels… empty. The absence of a presence that had made itself at home. She’d worked with rangers for years, ever since the hangar took her in, learning the in’s and out’s of the neural bridge and working to better align pilots with an initial pseudo-drift before putting them through the real thing.

She’d never expected to like it.

It’s exhilarating.

The expiry date they have hanging over their heads is unavoidable now. They’re compatible, truly compatible, doubting that is no use to anyone and despite whatever lead them both to the corps, whatever it is she catches glimpses of when they drift, she trusts him.

Fingers still trembling and head thick with fog, Emma trusts him.

“That was—”

A mistake.

Long overdue.

A one-time thing.

Just the beginning.

“Worth it.”

“Emma—”

“Be quiet.”

She snakes a hand around his waist, using his surprise to yank him closer into the alcove, away from prying eyes. Their dark uniforms blend in the shadows. Chest to chest like this, Emma can barely catch her breath. The cold steel pipe against her back does nothing to dissuade the heat he’s putting out—seriously, how is he always warm? It’s impossible to avoid his gaze either, the intensity of it only magnified with their proximity.

There’s questions there—so many questions—but he doesn’t have to ask them. She knows.

Killian’s tongue darts out to wet his lips.

She knows.

David and Snow walk past none the wiser, caught up in a discussion about something or other. Emma can’t focus enough to listen in, too distracted by everything in her body that screams for her to pull Killian closer and slam their mouths together until they forget about the rest. She holds her breath until the other rangers round the corner at the end of the hall.

“Mills hasn’t cleared Humbert or Lucas for visitation. We’ll be turned away.” Killian whispers, mouth so close to her ear that she can feel his words better than hearing them. His cheek catches hers as he pulls back but he doesn’t get far, her hand still pressed to his side, holding him in place. His brows raise in surprise.

Her palm tingles against the empty air when she lets go.

“Let me do the talking.”

He nods, following as she exits into the corridor, only a half-step behind.

They don’t have clearance. The med bay doors beep dejectedly as Emma’s ID card fails to pass the security check. Will had promised it would work, he’d sworn. Either he lied, already ratted them out to the Marshal or—

Victor Whale.

“Mills already has her reports delivered to her directly every hour,” he sighs, tugging off his gloves, surgical mask and running a free hand through his hair. Emma can see the dark roots coming through. There’s no market for salon-quality peroxide at the end of the world, apparently. “With the intention of alleviating the need for rangers like yourselves to check in. Can’t you go be annoying somewhere else? I don’t have time to file insubordination paperwork, I’m already understaffed.”

Killian reaches out, pleading, his eyes wide and blue and honest. He grabs the doctor’s forearm with his mechanical hand.

“Please, mate. Just five minutes.”

Whale’s brow furrows focused on the prosthetic gripping his arm. The fear of disciplinary action outweighs a lot of things in the hangar.

She’s pale, too pale, and riddled with tubes and drips and monitors that beep along with the pace of her heart. The burns, blistered and seeping, are tinged blue with the toxic sludge that courses through Kaiju veins. Blue burns, as they’re colloquially referred, aren’t uncommon. There are ointments and salves to calm the low-level contact burns and sprays to neutralise the toxins in the acid. What’s left of the governments have put extensive measures in place to ensure that stuff like this doesn’t happen to the general public.

They don’t seem to care for rangers.

As Ruby’s skin sloughs from the slightest friction of the sterile sheets, Emma can feel the first clutches of fear curl around her throat.

Corpselike. That’s the only word that comes to mind. Ruby, once so full of life, has never looked so… not, and Emma can’t help but fall into step with the ventilator that’s currently breathing for her as if somehow it makes a difference. The steady whirr of the machine only working to wind up the anxieties simmering beneath the surface of her skin.

Next time, it’ll be them.

Next time, it’ll be her.

Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale.

“We’re having to keep her under.” Someone —Victor? — hums, ignoring them both to look over the digitised chart at the foot of her bed. “There’s a lot of irrevocable damage that we’re still looking into while repairing what we can externally.”

Inhale.

“What about Gra— Ranger Humbert?” Killian's hand hasn’t left hers since they entered and, for what it’s worth, she’s thankful for the anchor and the ever-present warmth he offers. His presence is grounding and his words reflect her thoughts when she can’t quite reach her own.

Exhale.

It’s too much.

Inhale.

“More of the same”

Exhale.

They never should’ve come

His lips taste of salt.

The inevitability of death.

It burns.

“I don’t want to lose this.” she pants, soft against Killian’s lips as he smiles and steals it away. Like the future they don’t have. That she so painfully wished they could have. “I—”

His kisses trail to her ear, each one as gentle as the last. Too soft, too delicate. It terrifies and excites her how something as small as a kiss can melt her resolve to nothing. Any shadow of doubt disappearing with each step they take closer to the inevitable. After everything that had happened, from sneaking into the med bay, drowning the images with the last of that damn bottle of bourbon that started all this and sparring until they were both bruised and beaten and breathless, sex had been the last thing on her mind. It had crept up on her, crept up on them both, and it was impossible to deny.

That first rooftop rendezvous, first spar, first kiss, all those weeks ago, had cemented this. She can see that now.

Closing what little distance there is left between them, Killian walks her backwards until her thighs bump against the solid table behind them. “You won’t, love. I’ve got you.”

Each touch, each glance, each gasp is another goodbye.

His prosthetic rests on her waist as his other makes light work of the fastenings of her uniform, and she urges him on with a moan. She’s thankful they made it back to his quarters. They won’t make it to the bed.

Emma searches for answers as he pulls off his shirt, praying something in his eyes will reassure her that this—whatever this is—is okay, that they’re not terrible people for finding something worth fighting for at the end of the earth, anything to provide even a modicum of hope that maybe, just maybe, they’ll survive just long enough to have a chance at finding out if it is. She clutches at his shoulders, with nails biting into his skin, and breathes.

She doesn’t find the answers. Instead, she finds herself.

Scared and afraid, clinging to the last comfort she has left.

Three words bloom, fade and crumble in her mind, as fragile as a leaf on the wind and, before she can even speak them, Killian nods.

“I know.”

Somewhere deep inside her chest, behind broken walls and the rubble of a past life, something long since broken, beats.

Emma wakes up to warmth. An all encompassing warmth surrounding her so completely, an aura of heat welding together the cracks that had once debilitated her heart. So familiar, and pure and yet so foreign at the same time.

Each beat of her heart echoed by a shadow.

Each exhale mirrored by that of another, a soft caress against her nape.

The solid and comforting press of a body—his body—against her back, bringing forth memories of the night previous so slowly, like a crack in a dam; first a drip and then a flood. The synchronicity. The passion. The mutual need to just Be.

The absence of all thought except one.

Life is just too fucking short.

As if summoned by her mental recollection, Killian’s arm wraps around her waist. His lips ghost against the skin of her shoulder blade and the kiss he presses to her neck brings a smile to her face.

“Good morning, Swan.” He purrs, voice gravelly and wrapped in sleep. Damn, if Emma had only known he sounded like that first thing sooner—

The thought catches her off guard.

It’s so… normal. Domestic.

She could get used to it. She wants to get used to it.

“Mor—”

The spell shatters. The facade peels away to reveal the truth and the bliss that had wrapped her up in its glow is gone. Reality hits.

The blood-curdling scream of the one alarm they pray will never ring.

The Breach.

Robin’s voice screeches out over the comms in a panicked shout, followed by the calm and commanding call of Marshal Mills. Her own name and rank is called, along with Killian’s. Emma’s blood runs cold when the realisation hits.

A CAT 5.

All units to report.

Approaching New York.

Killian doesn’t move for what seems like an eternity, lips still pressed to her skin in an everlasting kiss, as if time has somehow warped around this very moment, stretching seconds into minutes, hours. Allowing them a chance to come to terms with what must happen next.

Their fates were sealed the second they stepped foot in the hangar.

Emma wrapped in a hospital gown. Killian in a battered, blood-stained plug suit.

“It’s okay.” He whispers, already drowned out by the blaring siren that fills every corner of the room. Emma can’t tell if he’s saying it for her sake or his own.

When she turns to him, pulling herself upright in the process and letting the cold of his quarters seep into her bare chest, he’s smiling. It’s by no means her favourite smile—wide and full of laughter—but it’s something and, for some crazy reason, she believes in it.

She believes in them.

“Fortune favours the brave.”

////

tagging a few of y’all! @thisonesatellite @teamhook @kmomof4 @superchocovian @itsfabianadocarmo @thisonesatellite @darkcolinodonorgasm @carpedzem @hollyethecurious

#cs fic #captain swan fic #ouat fic #ficminds #i'm sorry to anyone that likes once upon a time and pacific rim #this is a mess #but it's my mess

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misslisterkeepsajournal · 4 years

Text

1826 Friday 7 April

6 1/4 11 25/60

Went out at 7 25/60 - set James Sykes to stub the small remains of hedge (to be planted with hollys) at the near low end of Medley Park wood - then walked forwards to Lightcliffe - got there about 8 - Had read 2 or 3 papers in the wold (British Essayists) before Mr. and Mrs. W.P- [William Priestley] made their appearance - mentioned what Mr. James Briggs had said about having plenty of time - then if that was the case Mr. P- [Priestley] would have him as steward in preference to Mitchell - should not like to have much to do with the latter he was an odd man - Knew nothing of Joseph Smith of Bradford -

Mr. and Mrs. P- [Priestley] called away when I had about 1/2 done breakfast to the gardener who wanted to know where to plant about 200 rose trees - Mrs Priestley was apologizing tho said Mr Priestley you know the man came by appointment somehow Mr Priestley is not a gentleman in his manners however worthy - Composedly finished my breakfast and went into the breakfast room to read the no. [number] for this month of the cottage visitor (a little thin 12mo. [duodecimo] monthly magazine from which copied a receipt for ginger beer and one for tooth powder) and in the Theological Journal (no. [number] 7 or 8) an apparently well reasoning article totally condemning Mrs. Schimmelpenninc's new and foolish English version of the psalms from the Hebrew - she has not read the best authors on her subject - too much influenced by the French who do not shine in biblical criticism, and too much depending on Parkhursts's Hebrew lexicon which is very faulty - and however innocent or good her motives, her work is dangerous from its fanciful and unsupported innovations - read also from the same part of an equally apparent good article on the Palaeoromaic Controversy, in which the anonymous author wildly maintains that the new testament was, the exception of St. Matthew etc. originally written in Hebrew, - originally written in Latin for which original Latin (now lost) the present Greek version is a translation ably contradicted by Bp. [Bishop] Burgess etc. etc.

Mrs. W.P- [William Priestley] came in about 10 - Miss Anne Walker of Crow nest called, and staid about 1/2 hour - Mrs William Priestley and I then got talking as often before about the falsity of saying not at home when it was not bon a fide the case pressed her rather too hard but seeing this turned it off with she was better than I etc. etc. and with some insinuated compliments obscurely gentleman like and a look or two ditto which I think she felt she knew not how said she had great advantages in arguing with me she had an influence I scarce could understand which could even decrease my powers of resistance more than it increased hers she thought me better than I was I knew her better than she knew me I was very odd thought I to myself I talk to ladies in this style as if I could not help it I certainly feel nothing of the sort to her Mr Priestley returned I fancied he did not expect to find me still there and perhaps wanted his wife for he said she had only about half an hour to spare

Mrs. P- [Priestley] walked with me as far as Hipperholme lane ends, and turned back with her and walked with her to their own gate - said I had been in the dismals; for I felt it was the last time I should breakfast there - was going to York, Mrs. L- [Lawton] was coming - the P-s [Priestleys] were going to Harrogate - it would be too far from Northgate, and we were going to sell our gig horse, and the weather would be hot - she was sorry and hoped to see as much of me as she could but her sorrow was not very warmly expressed but she does sometimes wish to seem more stoical than she really feels perhaps it might be the case now for she gave me to understand she would write in her close hand in which she writes to none but her brother Edmund and her friend Mrs Robinson I said I would not be too exhorbitant - would only ask for one letter a year but should be happy to hear from her as much oftener as she had time and inclination - I would not write till we were well settled for the winter - in the mean while she would hear of us from my sister - If my aunt, after all, could not go abroad, we must try Bath - might be introduced there by a friend to the bp. [bishop] of Bath and Wells - and might have introductions from Mrs. Farrer but I was not sure of the goodness of these latter and should try before accepting them - Mrs. P- [Priestley] too doubted their goodness in a manner which struck me, and made me in fact doubt in reality - She said the bp. [bishop] of Bath and Wells had expected the see of Durham just given to D. van Mildert (from the see of St. Asaph) and then he would have done something for her brother who lived 13 or 14 miles from Bath - indeed the bp. [bishop] was bound in duty to do something for him, and no doubt he would -

Mrs Priestley said when the Walkers went to Bath with Mrs Christopher Rawson that she could not therefore give them introductions to her friends there now she said nothing of giving them to us which rather struck me I cannot help fancying my visit was ill timed this morning made me say it was the last time I should be able to breakfast there for it struck me I might easily excuse myself and I really would not breakfast there again said I would go in an afternoon but was afraid I could not now see much more of her on leaving mused on these things annoyed determined to be less confidential and more particular always about what I say in future I have often thought this before but surely now I shall begin to act upon it speaking of Mr Briggs Mr Priestley had said he would see a good deal of my father I too hastily replied I did not think that a recommendation Mr Priestley looked and said no more I just observed you do not quite understand me yes said Mr Priestley I know you act quite independently of your father would not straighten the brook alter the new footpath etc. I assented not choosing to explain what I really meant which was my fathers being too familiar with my steward I felt sorry I had said this in short I came away out of love with my visit thinking I should be glad to get away abroad out of the way of all of them if I ever come back to settle here I shall begin anew and hope to be more guarded and to do better I mused on all this -

After parting with Mrs. P- [Priestley] at 1 1/4 at their own gate, returned direct to Lower brea lane where William Keighley and his son William were cutting and laying the hedge at the top of the wood (Mitholm wood) staid talking to them a long time - took young William to Wellroyde wood to get a few stakes - inquired about Mr. Mitchell 'he is rather rash in giving his opinions' - I think I shall not have him -

Got home at 4 1/2 - staid talking to my aunt till five - then went upstairs and read (a pamphlet taken from one of the bureau drawers) The Life of Betty Ireland a notorious bad woman - Dressed - dinner at 6 1/4 - tea and coffee at 8 - my aunt went to bed (and to bathe a hot bath in her room) at 9 1/4, when I sat down and wrote the whole of the above of today which took me till 10 40/60 Fine morning - just after I left Mrs. W.P- [William Priestley] there came on a little damp and rain afterwards a few slight showers - Barometer 1 2/3 degree above changeable Fahrenheit 51° at 9 1/4 p.m. - Went up to bed at 10 1/4 - E..O. -

Reference: SH:7/ML/E/9/0082 - SH:7/ML/E/9/0083

#anne lister #anne lister code breaker #gentleman jack #1826

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fernrisulfr · 5 years

Text

Digimon ReArise Review

I realize I don’t post a lot of my reviews on tumblr, usually just to steam, but this is about Digimon, and I have opinions on Digimon. Especially after how terrible Digimon Links was. I’ll break this review into parts, making comments on the various activities and mechanics in the game, as well of course comments on the Digimon themselves.

STORY: First off there’s the fact that there is an actual story, a massive improvement over Links which honestly had nothing, or at least so little it may as well have BEEN nothing. While the story itself isn’t anything as complex or indepth as FGO or Gran Blue, it is still quite enjoyable. It has a straight forward episodic nature, mixing cutscenes with blurbs/text bubbles that show up in the middle of actual combat. While the story itself may be simplistic, it’s suits the Digimon Franchise, and is in a lot of ways much like playing through an Episode of the various Television Series. While in truth the story may actually have been better suited TO the Television Series, and keeps the aspect of Episode Titles giving away when Story Relevant Digimon are going to Digivolve, it’s still good. VORTEX: The Vortex’s are the main sources for farming materials uses for Awakenings, as well as Food Items to raise your Digimon’s Bond. They’re reminiscent of Dailies, while being on a much shorter timer. Though it seems like recently they lengthened the timer from 4 hours to 7. In general they’re fairly easy and after a point you can simply autobattle your way through them, but it does remove the strain of farming materials, as it makes it easier to multitask. CLASH: Essentially these are Raid Battles designed to be beaten by Multiple Players. They come in multiple levels so it’s possible for even the lowest level player to reasonably participate. Only the Top 3 Damage Dealers and the Spotter (person who found/started the Clash) gain additional rewards, so it’s easy for weaker players to farm things out enmasse even if they don’t deal much damage. Along with dropping materials necessary for Digivolution, Clash Battles also drop a currency called Clash Medals, which can be spent in a shop. Clash Medals can be spent on Rare Plugins (Equipment) or on additional Digivolution Materials. BATTLE PARK: The Battle Park is ReArise’s version of PvP. A single “season” lasts for 1 week before resetting. Battle Park Stamina is separate from regular stamina, so it’s only possible to compete in about 5 battles in a row before needing to wait and recharge. The Battle Park itself rewards both BP Medals which can be used to buy DigiEggs (and later Rare Plugins I’ve heard) as well as DigiRubies (Paid Gacha and Shop Currency.).The Battle Park itself is honestly insanely broken. It divides players into Ranks, and once you gain enough points you’re able to participate in a “Promotion Battle” allowing you to rise to the next rank. However once you’ve advanced in Rank, you cannot drop to a lower rank. This is a problem because it means it’s very easy for a Player to pass the Promotion Battle, and then find themselves in a Rank they’re not yet ready for, causing them to constantly lose. In addition, the Promotion Battle becomes Mandatory once you’ve gained enough points. You HAVE to do it, and you can’t ignore it without ignoring the Battle Park entirely. Adding to the problem is that “Season Rewards/Rank” are determined by how many points you gain in battle over the course of the week, however as you climb to higher ranks and begin to win less and lose more, it becomes next to impossible to obtain higher rewards without going out of your way to pay for more stamina and heavily grind at the Battle Park. As well, and this will be mentioned again quite soon, Status Effects are tremendously broken in PvP. Particularly Stun, Shock, Paralysis, Sleep, and Skill Lock. Each Status Condition states that it lasts for “2 turns” or a similarly short duration. However a “Turn” is so long that in this time that your Digimon is Immobilized, your own Team is likely to be decimated unless you have a significant level advantage over your opponent. They’re incredibly unbalanced and overpowered. UNDERWORLD: The Underworld is interesting in concept. It’s a series of “floors” separate from the Main Story and Vortexes. Each floor can only be played once, and will give a variety of great rewards such as High Tier Plugins, DigiEggs, Gacha Currency, and Store Items. They’re intended to be Post-Game/After-Story Challenge Quests intended for High Level Players. Which is great. However in reality they only showcase the problem I mentioned with Status Effects all the more clearly. With the encounter itself set to Max Level, enemy party combinations are often set to spam Status Effects, particularly those that hit the entire party and are capable of immobilizing multiple members. Unless you have a Digimon that is immune to or heals the status effect your utterly screwed, and even if you DO, there’s a good chance you’re screwed anyway because in the case of a healer there’s a 50% chance they’ll be immobilized, preventing them from healing anyone/removing the status effect, and even if they do succeed there’s a good chance it’s just going to happen again. If you have Digimon that are Immune, it better be over half the party worth, or you’re likely to lose purely based on numbers.

Now then, let’s take a step back and lok at the DigiTown as well as various other in-game mechanics. The main screen for Digimon ReArise is the DigiTown, a customize-able space that you can decorate, and watch your Digimon run around in. From this area you can reach the various menus (of which there are a lot.), as well as feed your Digimon to raise their Bond. Which brings me to the Four things you must do in order to make a Digimon strong. BOND: A numerical representation of your Digimon’s happiness, trust, and faith in you. You can raise it either by bringing a Digimon with you into battle, assigning them as your Partner Digimon, or by feeding them Food Items in the DigiTown. Required to perform Awakenings and Digivolution. Honestly I like it in concept, but not strictly execution. It doesn’t have a huge overarching effect (though feeding Digimon also improves their Mood and allows them to make Critical Hits more easily), and ultimately it ends up just being another number we need to raise and grind for. LEVEL: Sort of self-explanatory for the average player. Level is a representation of their over all power. The higher their level, the higher their stats. Can be raised by spending “bits”, the in-game currency gained from battles. A certain level is required both for Awakenings and Digivolution, both of which also happen to raise the level cap. WORK-OUT & AWAKENING: It is possible to “train” your Digimon using various Work-Out Chips obtained from Story Quests and Vortexes. Letting a Digimon Work-Out raises individual stats, and once all Work-Outs have been completed, and the additiional requirements of Level & Bond have been met, it’s possible to Awaken a Digimon. Awakening a Digimon further raises their stats (more significantly than the individual workouts), and raises the level cap. I compare it in some regards to Ascension in FGO, however it happens much more frequently, requiring more time and materials, as well as sharing the role with Digivoltion. Speaking of. DIGIVOLUTION: Requires the Digimon to be at a certain amount of Level and Bond. Allows the Digimon to reach the next, more powerful, stage. Raises their stats significantly, as well as boosting the power of their Main and Sub Skill. Naturally this also changes their appearance. A noteable thing is that while all Digimon can reach the stage of Ultimate, only SOME Digimon can get all the way to Mega, usually requiring you to roll in a paid Gacha, or get really lucky with a Digi-Egg. Alongside the above, other ways to make a Digimon Stronger are to raise their skill level (to a maximum of 10) or Equip Plugins. To raise a Skill Level you simply need to combine them with a Digimon with the same Digivolution Tree. This means that they have to have the same Rookie, Champion, and Ultimate Stage, and that Mega Digimon can only be combined with Digimon that can also reach Mega. Plugins are Equipment that can be sorted into Offensive, Defensive, and Status Effect. At max level you can equip 2 of each, for a total of 6 Plugins. Plugins, simply enough, raise various stats. They can be obtained as drops in Story Quests and the Underworld, bought in various currency shops, or obtained in the Gacha (More on this latter.). Plugins can also be combined together to increase their stat bonuses. Next we have the game’s “Social” aspects and a shameless plug from myself.

GUILDS: DigiGuilds are in a lot of ways like a second Friends-list, giving you another list of people you can invite to raids, or call on for support in battle. Joining a Guild also gives you access to a second DigiEgg Incubator, allowing you to raise 2 DigiEggs at the same time, as well as request help from Guild Members to ease the burden of hatching and raising it. The Guild also provides additional rewards to reap. Once a day Players can enter their Guild Page, and by clicking “Support” (or Support All) will receive additional Stamina for each member of the guild, which can be great while farming. As well by “Checking In” the ENTIRE Guild will receive a Reward based on the number of Members who checked in during a 24 hour period. The more members, the better the Rewards. Shameless Plug: Featured above is my own Guild “Menagerie” (Because “Phenomenal Menagerie Souffle” was too long.). If you play Digimon ReArise or this post convinces you to play Digimon ReArise, consider joining! If you do, please remember to Support and Check-in! FRIENDSLIST: The Friends-list like in most Mobile Games, is a list of other Players whom you’ve made (or accepted from) a friends request. Players on your Friendslist can be called for Support in regular battles, or send a help request for a Clash Battle. In addition they serve as a source of “Social Points” which can be earned by Greeting Players once a day (Button located in your Friendslist), by those players Greeting you, and by other players using your Digimon for Support in Battle. Social Points can be spent in a Shop to purchase new Decor items for the DigiTown, or Food. In addition they can be used in a Free Plugins Gacha. Speaking of the Gacha!

That’s our next topic on this painfully long review. GACHA: There are several types of Gacha in Digimon ReArise. The Limited Summon Gacha, the Step-up Summon Gacha, various Plugins Gacha, and the Social Points Plugins Gacha. Every Gacha besides the Social Points Plugins Gacha, costs DigiRubies, the Paid Gacha Currency of the game. There is no “free” Gacha for Digimon unfortunately, however I have found that DigiRubies (especially early on) are fairly easy to earn for free early on. So it’s not all bad. Additionally you can also gain new Digimon by hatching DigiEggs, which can be obtained in Shops, from Events, and from certain floors of the Underworld. SUMMON GACHA: A pretty standard Gacha. Comes in x1 or x10 (+1). Put in DigiRubies and a Random Digimon pops out. The Summon Rate of higher-tier Digimon is better when you roll x10 as opposed to x1. STEP-UP SUMMON: A Step-Up Summon Gacha is a Gacha that comes in steps. Ones I’ve seen have been 3-5 steps. The Price of each step is set, so there’s no x1 or x10. You roll it or you don’t. The Price and number of summons increases with each Step of the Gacha, but so does the Summon Rate of the available Digimon (so the higher the step the better your odds.). Additionally with each step you gain a Reward. At the Final/Highest Step you’ll get 1 Guaranteed Mega-Capable (Can digivolve to Mega) Digimon. Usually a specific Digimon associated with the Step-Up Summon. The Summon Rate increase will cap at the final step, but it is possible to roll the Final Step multiple times (However the Guaranteed Mega will only occur the 1st time you roll the final step.). PAID PLUGINS GACHA: Kinda says what it is on the tin here. You pay DigiRubies to roll for Plugins more powerful than what is generally going to drop from quest nodes. Comes in various types associated with your Digimon’s Personality Type, a concept I still don’t understand. SOCIAL POINTS PLUGINS GACHA: Again sort of what it says on the tin. A Plugins Gacha, only instead of DigiRubies you spend Social Points, so it’s essentially free. Again drops better Plugins than you’re likely to get from farming quest nodes.

Next we’ll cover the all important aspects. The Digimon themselves and Combat. DIGIMON: Digimon’s stats are pretty straight forward, split into HP, an Offensive Stat (PWR or TEC depending on the Digimon.), DEF, and SPD. Each Digimon has 3 Skills. A Passive Skill, usually some sort of Buff or Immunity. A Main Skill, which is an offensive Skill Unique to the Digimon themself (such as WarGreymon’s “Terra Force” as seen above), and a Sub-Skill, another Offensive or sometimes Supportive Skill which can be found across several Digimon. As noted before, only some Digimon can Digivolve all the way to Mega, but all can reach Ultimate. I don’t strictly agree with that decision, but I at least understand the reasoning behind it. BATTLE: Combat in Digimon ReRaise involves a Party of 1 to 5 Digimon Vs 1-3 Waves of Enemies (each Wave in a group of 1-5). Players can chose to activiate Skills Manually, or set Combat to Auto and let the AI decide when to use them. Fights in both Main and Vortex Quests is incredibly easy, and often better left to Auto. If a player is looking for a fight that involves some form of Strategy you’re better off going for a Clash Battle, the Battle Park, or the Underworld (despite my complaints about the latter two.). One glaring fault with the Combat is the inability to select your Target. Who get’s hit by your skills is randomized, which can be a problem both in high difficulty quests, or when special requirements require you to hit the “Boss” with a particular kind of attack.

Lastly we have the DigiWalker, a magnificent callback to the olden days of the Digivice Toys we used to violently shake up and down instead of actually walking with. The DigiWalker requires a Phone with a Pedometer Function, and access to said Function, but otherwise doesn’t require the game to actually be on. After a certain number of steps your Digimon will find items. When you accept those items they’re gain Bond Points. Digimon ReArise is not without flaws, the most glaring of which is an excessive number of loading screens, but over all it’s a game I greatly enjoy, and one you can play entirely for free. I’ve been playing a month and haven’t spent a single cent, but still have 6 different Mega Digimon. Thank you for reading this Review, and I hope it was informative.

#Digimon #Digimon ReArise #Game Review #Game Rant #WarGreymon #DigiGuild #Mobile Game #Nostalgia #Digimon Game #Pedometer #Gacha #Gacha Game #F2P

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arysafics · 5 years

Text

Make You Want Me

prompt: Clarke seduces Bellamy into cheating on Echo because she hates her, but Clarke won’t let Bellamy actually have sex with her until he breaks up with Echo.

bp: Clarke teases Bellamy constantly but is stingy when he tries to touch her dbp: dom Bellamy once Clarke FINALLY lets him do something

my last fill for @the100kinkmeme

Rated E, ~2,300 words

The bar is practically empty tonight, as Clarke knew it would be. Just a few regulars in worn caps and flannelette shirts drinking and playing pool. Bellamy looks up from behind the bar as she walks in, pausing in the middle of wiping the bar down just to stare at her. He probably isn’t even aware he’s doing it.

Clarke tugs her tube top down a little, though her tits are already dangerously close to popping out of it. Bellamy looks as if he’s trying to will it to happen with the power of his mind. She gives him a wicked grin as she approaches the bar, and Bellamy tries to pretend he hasn’t been staring. Jolene is playing from the jukebox.

“I’ll have a gin and tonic,” Clarke says, brushing her hair over one shoulder.

“Isn’t it a little late for you to be out on a Wednesday night?” Bellamy asks her as he makes her drink.

“It’s only eleven-thirty.”

“Echo is going to be here later.”

“So? Do you have a problem with me being here while your girlfriend is here?”

“Not if you’re going to behave yourself.” He places the gin and tonic in front of her on the bar. Clarke picks it up and bites on the straw.

“I’ll try my best,” she says sweetly. Bellamy gives her a dry look, like he knows she won’t try her best at all.

“That’s on the house,” he tells her. Clarke grins. She takes a seat on the barstool she’s standing next to, and she swears she sees a look of panic cross Bellamy’s face. Maybe he was hoping she’d take the drink and go. Doesn’t he know she’s here for him?

“What are you doing after work?” Clarke asks. She plays with the straw in her drink, then takes a long sip.

“Probably sleeping.”

“That’s no fun,” Clarke pouts.

“Clarke,” Bellamy says, and it comes out like an exasperated groan. She hasn’t even started yet. “Listen, I’ve got work to do. How about you go and chat to Murphy instead, huh?”

Clarke glances across the room to where Murphy is leaning on a pool stick, drink in one hand, as Atom lines up his shot.

“Fine,” Clarke says. She slips off the stool and saunters over to Murphy. She doesn’t have to glance over her shoulder to know Bellamy is watching her ass in her tiny denim cut-offs as she walks away.

Murphy and Atom look at her with trepidation as she hoists herself onto the edge of the pool table and crosses her legs. She flips her hair. It’s all for Bellamy’s benefit, of course.

“Can I play?” she asks.

“Do you even know how?” Murphy snorts. Atom glares at him. He probably thinks if he’s nice to her he’ll get lucky tonight. Maybe she’d go there if she didn’t have her sights set on Bellamy.

“Shut up,” he says. He turns to Clarke. “Sure, you can play,” he says, his smile coming off more creepy than friendly. Her skin crawls, but she smiles at him anyway. “We’ll start a new game.”

“But I was winning!” Murphy complains. Atom ignores him and starts collecting the balls up to put back in the triangle. Clarke slips off the table and puts her drink down close by. She picks a pool cue off the wall, then rubs chalk on the end of it.

“Two against one?” Clarke asks.

“Forget it,” Murphy scowls. “I don’t want to play.” He stalks off towards the bar. Clarke turns back to Atom, unconcerned. As long as Murphy doesn’t take up too much of Bellamy’s attention, she doesn’t care what he does.

“Can I break?” Clarke asks.

“Sure,” Atom agrees.

Clarke goes to the head of the table, facing away from the bar. She glances over her shoulder to make sure Bellamy is watching as she bends over the table to take her shot, her shorts riding further up her ass.

She takes the shot, and the balls clack against each other, rolling around the table. None of them go into the pockets, but that’s not really why she’s playing anyway. Atom takes his shot and immediately sinks a ball.

Clarke picks up her drink as he lines up another shot. She looks over to the bar. Murphy is talking to Bellamy, but it’s pretty clear he isn’t listening. His attention is on Clarke.

“It’s hot in here, isn’t it?” Clarke says. Atom doesn’t answer, he’s too busy focused on the game in front of him. Clarke dips her fingers into her drink and pulls the ice out. She tilts her head back and rubs the ice across her chest. It melts against her hot skin, and cool water drips down into her cleavage. Her nipples grow hard, pointing obviously through her thin top. Now Atom is paying attention.

Bellamy’s watches her, his gaze heated. Clarke sucks her fingers into her mouth one by one to get rid of the excess water and gin.

“Your shot,” Atom says. Clarke takes her shot, sinks a ball, then misses the next one.

“I need another drink,” she says, walking over to the bar. By the time she gets there, Bellamy already has another gin and tonic ready for her.

“What do you think of my technique?” she asks Bellamy.

“Could use some work.”

“Come and show me then.”

“I’m working.”

“There’s no one even here, Bellamy,” Clarke points out. “And I really need you. To help me with my technique.”

Bellamy glances around the empty bar. Clarke can see his resolve already fading. He looks to Murphy. “Call me if anyone comes in.”

Clarke waits for him to come around the bar, then grabs his hand to lead him over to the table, where Atom is waiting.

“My turn?”

Atom nods. Clarke picks up her cue from where she leant it against the wall earlier. She turns to Bellamy, standing much closer to him then necessary. “What should I do?” she asks him, biting her lip.

“Go for the six,” Bellamy says. Clarke lines up her shot, and Bellamy steps up behind her, leaning over her, putting his big hands on her to reposition her hands on the cue. She rolls her ass against his crotch, feeling him hard. “That’s good,” he says, but she doesn’t know if he’s talking about her ass or her pool technique.

He guides her through the shot, and she sinks the six ball into the corner pocket. She jumps up, hugging him in excitement, pressing her tits against his chest. His hand snakes around her waist, and his fingers graze her ass. Could be an accident, but she knows it’s probably not. She pulls away, ready for the next shot.

“Three next,” Bellamy says. Clarke positions herself again, and this time when Bellamy stands behind her, she feels his muscular arm wrap around her waist. His hand strokes her stomach, then, when she doesn’t stop him, lower, sliding between her legs.

“That’s enough,” she says, and he stops. Even though she doesn’t really want him to. His lips graze her ear.

“You’re such a tease, Clarke,” he whispers.

She stands up, turning to face him. His chest is pressed against hers, and she’s caught between him and the pool table. Her cunt throbs.

“You can have whatever you want,” Clarke tells him, trailing her fingers across his chest. “All you have to do is break up with Echo, and I’m yours.”

She presses her lips to his cheek, and then his neck. Bellamy groans. “You only want me because you hate her.”

Clarke shakes her head. “Well, maybe a little bit. But why do you think I hate her so much?”

“Because of that time she told you you’re a bad singer?”

Clarke pushes her hands under his shirt, stroking his hard body. “That too. But it’s also because she has you. And I want you.”

Bellamy leans down, opening his mouth to kiss her, but Clarke pulls her head back. “No,” she says, teasing. “Dump her first.”

They hear the sound of the door opening over the jukebox, now playing Carrie Underwood. Bellamy jumps back from Clarke like he’s been burned, and Clarke knows it must be Echo. She glances over her shoulder to see that she’s correct.

“Someone’s here!” Murphy yells.

Clarke turns back to Bellamy. “Now’s your chance,” she whispers. Bellamy swallows. He watches Clarke as he leaves, only turning his attention to Echo when he physically can’t turn his head that far to look at Clarke anymore.

“Are you going to take your shot, or what?” Atom snaps. He’s not so nice to her now that it’s clear she’s not going home with him.

“Get lost, Atom. And take Murphy with you. Bellamy’s closing early tonight.”

Both she and Atom look over to where Bellamy and Echo are talking, their voices hushed. Clarke can’t make out what they’re saying, but Echo doesn’t look happy. Echo looks over at Clarke, her expression murderous. Clarke smiles sweetly back at her.

Echo looks back to Bellamy. And then she slaps him, and storms out of the bar. Bellamy looks around at Clarke. Her skin thrums with excitement, adrenalin rushing through her veins.

“Get out,” Bellamy says, loud enough to hear over the jukebox. He’s looking at Clarke, but it’s clear he’s talking to Atom and Murphy. “Bar’s closed.”

Murphy and Atom don’t move for a moment, until Bellamy throws a contemptuous look between them, and the two of them scramble for the door.

Bellamy takes his time as he saunters towards Clarke. Her heart races. It’s not just a game anymore. He crowds her up against the pool table, and then he’s kissing her, and she doesn’t try to stop him this time. She lets his tongue invade her mouth, lets his mouth devour hers.

She moves to wrap her arms around his neck, but he grabs her wrists and pins her hands to the edge of the pool table, pulling away from her mouth. He grins wickedly at her.

“I don’t think so,” he says. “I’m in control now, got it?”

Clarke’s stomach flips over. She nods. “Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, sir,” she says. Bellamy smiles.

“Good girl,” he says. “Keep your hands there.”

He kisses her again, then lifts her onto the edge of the pool table. His hands brush against her stomach, coming to rest on her ribs, and then he tugs at her tube top, pulling it down so that her tits come bouncing out of it.

“Been teasing me with these for too long,” Bellamy growls. “Naughty girl. Trying to make me cheat on my girlfriend.” He palms her tits roughly, then tweaks her hard nipples. Clarke whines. “Wanna see them bounce for me,” he says. “Come on, baby. Show me.”

Clarke bounces herself up and down as best she can on the edge of the pool table, letting her tits jiggle in front of him as he watches enraptured.

“Should be wearing a bra with tits like these,” he scolds her. “But you never do when I’m around. Always want me to look at your nipples, don’t you? Want me to see how your tits bounce for me.”

“Uh huh,” Clarke agrees. “Yes, sir.”

“What about panties? You wearing any under those tiny little shorts?” He grabs her between her legs.

Clarke shakes her head. “No, sir.” Of course she’s not.

“Take them off,” Bellamy commands.

Clarke unbuttons her shorts, hands shaking. She slips off the edge of the table so she can pull her shorts to her ankles. Bellamy yanks her top down over her hips too, leaving her naked apart from the choker around her neck and the wedge sandals on her feet.

“That’s better,” Bellamy says. “Now turn around and bend over.”

Clarke obeys. Bellamy puts his hand on the back of her neck and pushes her down until her tits are squashed against the green felt of the pool table. He rubs her bare ass, and then slides his hand between her legs.

“All nice and wet, aren’t you?” Bellamy says. “You want it bad, don’t you?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Turned you on to tease me, didn’t it?” he says, stroking her pussy. “Knowing I couldn’t do anything when I had a girlfriend.” Not that it stopped him from trying. “Little homewrecker.”

“Please,” Clarke whimpers.

“Please what?”

“Fuck me. Please fuck me, sir.”

“Beg harder. Tell me how much you want it.”

“Please,” Clarke says. “I need your cock so bad. Need you inside me, need you to fuck me hard.”

She hears him unzip his pants, and she spreads her legs wider. She feels his cock at her entrance, and he holds her down as he pushes into her. It feels so thick, filling her cunt completely.

Her tits rub against the felt on the table as he fucks her, and she knows her nipples will be sore later, but right now all that exists is his cock inside her, using her cunt, thrusting into her roughly, over and over.

She feels her orgasm building, and she has the feeling he won’t like it if she comes without his permission.

“Can I come, sir?” she moans. “Please, I need to come.”

“You can come,” he says. It only takes a couple more thrusts to send her over the edge. “My turn,” he says. “Gonna come inside your pussy,” he tells her.

“Yes,” Clarke says. “Come in me, please.”

She feels him shudder against her, and his come spurt into her, filling her cunt. Just that feeling alone is almost enough to make her come again.

“Thank you, sir,” she says as he pulls out of her.

She turns around, squeezing her legs together so his come won’t escape her pussy. He’s breathing heavy as he does up his pants. He bends to pick her clothes up, and Clarke reaches for them, but he pulls away.

“Oh, no,” he says, smirking. “You can have them back when I’m done closing up the bar. I’m not done with you yet.”

#bellarke #bellarke fanfiction #the 100 #the 100 fanfiction #mine #the 100 km

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dearestmichaella · 5 years

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Why I Want to Become a Good Doctor

Today, we just had our ward discussion with our consultant regarding the patient we saw last last week (Feb 13) in Pasay City General Hospital with our main clinical impression of stroke. He is a 74/M, obtunded, not oriented to time, place and person, non-coherent, non-fluent with dysphasia and dysphonia. GCS 9. If you are from the medicine world, you will probably have a picture of him on your mind most especially about the severity of his presentation. In simpler words, he is most of the time sleeping but whenever he is awake, it’s as if he is confused and not really receptive about the things happening around him. He only conveys his message through moaning most especially if he is feeling any pain in his body. The consultant in our ward discussion is somehow strict but in a constructive way. I find it helpful because he wants us to learn through his clinical experiences. What he usually do is he have our index cards, each with our name on it, calls a random person to present each part of the case. He would ask anything under the sun and we will be graded on that. I usually try to peek on what he is writing in our index cards but he has these random codes. He has his phone on his side with a random series of numbers, he looks at it every time we answer and then he writes it in our index cards. There’s random letters, series of numbers that somehow made me felt like it’s as if a morse code (or maybe it really is?! ty parasite for letting me appreciate morse codes ahhaha). He also focuses on what we really think as doctors as to diagnosis, differentials and therapeutics.

I really enjoy studying for any case discussions but only when I transferred to a new school. In my previous school where I went in, there’s no much time learning everything. Now that my new school has a different approach on activities like this, it gives me more time reading my medical books. It thrills me finding and getting answers on questions I have on my mind. So I must say prior to our ward discussion a while ago, I really really studied hard. My friend who is also part of the group asked me why I gave so much effort studying for this even on the smallest details. I also asked myself the same question especially during times of frustration and tiredness. I can just actually sleep the rest of the night or perhaps study for other subjects I need to. Last night got me thinking and I just assumed that maybe, I am just like this. I just really wanna know more and I hate myself for that.

Why do I really study hard?

My father whom I loved so much despite and in spite, had a stroke when I was just a first yr med student, supposedly 2nd yr but I got irregular. I only had the basics back then - anatomy, physiology, physical diagnosis & etc. When my father presented with right sided numbness of his upper ext progressing to lower ext, I thought of stroke but not with much conviction. Papa claims that maybe he excessively strained his muscles when he was doing some chores. Papa is generally healthy, not even hypertensive with no known heart problems. Although he is a smoker. We immediately consulted to a physician, an Internist-Cardiologist, whom I can say is good since he has a specialty. He is also affiliated with good hospitals around the metro. Our consult took only for more or less 5 minutes, asked what’s Papa’s chief complaint, took his BP, typed something on his computer, gave us a request for some labs and CT scan. We had it done but results from the hospital takes days and the doctor was clear that he cannot say anything at the moment without the labs and ancillaries. We had a follow up 3 days after, the CT scan was cleared. At that time, I was already nervous I even asked the doctor if we should be referred to a neurologist or if we should just go to ER dept of the hospital cause it might be stroke to which he just replied with, “I need to first the duplex scan but if you wish to consult a neuro, you may do so.” Having said that, my dad who found me so annoying that I am insisting to consult a neuro, trusted the doctor that it could be something else. Because again, who am I compared to a specialist. I understand Papa, he was also scared because who wouldn’t it be. But that night, I talked to him with my book on the side, did some neurologic test, in which there are some that he cannot do. I convinced him finally to see a neurologist despite his normal CT scan. The next morning we went to a neurologist and the doctor said it could be a stroke based on his presentation and he needs to be confined immediately. I was devastated.

Papa is okay now though, to the lay what he had is just a mild stroke (medically, there’s no, mild stroke). What he had is an ischemic stroke to brain small vessels hence the, “milder presentation”.

I found myself devastated again today most especially when our consultant a while ago was discussing about stroke. I was amazed because I didn’t expect he would share so much about “stroke” since he is an expert in Gastro. When we were sharing our differentials, he emphasized why in our case, the first think you’ll think of is stroke. Hemiparesis. One sided weakness. Even without laboratory tests/ancillaries, it’s like a bell ringing in your mind. Stroke, an acute onset of focal neurologic deficit commonly due to vascular pathology - the theoretical definition. He even gave us scenarios aside from the case we presented such as, “What if, despite thinking of stroke, patient did a CT scan and found to be normal. No history of other diseases. There’s only one sided weakness. Would you still think of it as a stroke?” It is a challenging question on what should be the next best step for the patient. My classmates were answering - MRI could be requested but Doc asked, “What if the patient doesn't want to do an MRI anymore due to financial problem or what if the patient got mad cause you as doctor said that the CT scan is enough to confirm it’s stroke.” I was just listening, deeply. It is a question not seen on books but often seen in a clinical setting. Moreover, I remembered Papa. Doc said then that it should be a pertinent negative, meaning from there you would think that probably the stroke is ischemic rather hemorrhagic which usually presents in a CT scan, at least days after. The next best step is to administer immediately treatment because again, with stroke, timing is everything.

I did not expect that after this case discussion, I will have the answer to my friend’s question, “Why do I really study hard?”. The answer was simple, deep down in my heart, I want to become a good doctor. I want to save people, more so my family in times of like this. I don’t wanna become the cardiologist who saw my father twice and didn’t give much importance to what my Papa’s feeling. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t blame him but I am certain I felt like he wasn’t at his best when he saw Papa for whatever reason I don’t know of. Imagine how many patients are being seen by doctors who doesn’t pay much attention. Our mentors would always say to us, ‘Treat all your patients as if they are your relatives.’ They say, being a doctor, is really a calling. It is true that it requires us so much time, patience, hard work, mental and emotional torture but when life and death comes into your table, as humans, what the very least thing you can do? For now, as a medical student, the very least thing that I can do is to study hard with more than I can to become the good doctor I want to be.

Maybe, it’s too idealistic of me saying I want to become a good doctor because soon in the clinical practice, there would be so much challenges. Soon, all patients would become merely cases & numbers. You can’t let all this consume you or else, you wont be at your best for your next patients. It is a situation we can’t help from happening. But why does it seem wrong or hard to become human in a situation we need to be one?

As doctors who have been through a lot. We are made out of the extremes of the extremes situation that humbled us to become more human. And for us to treat another human, we have first to become one.

May I be, when the time comes of burn out and verge of giving up, reminded of this - on why I want to become a good doctor. And hopefully, soon, even I know it’s a long way to go, become one. With God’s grace.

*this blog is made out of tears and extreme passion*

#med school #dreams

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chowriappaconstellation-blog · 4 years

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Is investing in Real Estate during the Lockdown/Post Lockdown period the best move now?

Real estate has always been a steady investment that is synonymous with security and prestige and this trend would continue during these unprecedented times. Other asset classes such as equity markets, which are poised to see a downward trend over the next two years (atleast!) due to muted corporate earnings over the next several quarters, are much less reliable and extremely volatile.

With the Repo rate being reduced by 75 bps and the new base rate being 4.4%, home loan interest rates are only going to get further lower. This makes it all the more worthwhile for an investor or an end user to make a real estate investment such as buying an apartment. The inflation hedging capabilities of real estate adds to the fact that no time is better than now to ensure the 3 S’s in your investment criteria: Safety. Security and Stability!

The post pandemic world will be good for the real estate sector, the one sector that will emerge as the silver lining in such bleak scenario.

I have decided to invest in an apartment during/ immediately after the Lockdown . Should I book an under-construction / completed project?

Definitely, go for a completed project like Chowriappa Constellation! Since you have made up your mind to buy an apartment, you should consider the following, to make your decision more balanced:

1. Further delays in under-construction projects are imminent

With India under a complete lockdown and construction workers returning home, project delays are unavoidable. The real sector, especially the residential segment, has already been struggling with project delays, regulatory changes and low sales for the last few years. Given the Coronavirus pandemic, construction in incomplete projects has come to a complete standstill across the country. We foresee a delay in delivery of projects on account of supply disruption, due to the virus outbreak and liquidity crunch. This makes it all the more paramount to invest in a completed project like Chowriappa Constellation.

2. Liquidity will become an issue for Developers in completing under-construction projects.

With almost no sales happening and no foreign funds at hand, developers will struggle to pick up the pace, once the lockdown ends. The investment will start flowing in gradually and so far, the government has not announced any bailout package for the sector, which is a concerning issue

Due to volatility in liquidity, existing under construction projects will bear the brunt of these adverse effects.

Therefore, in our humble opinion, it is advised to go for an extra layer of certainty and book an apartment in a completed project.

3. Demand-supply slowdown

Demand has dried down completely and very little supply in terms of completed projects are now available due to the lockdown and its after effects. Once everything gets back to normal, it will take at least three months for real estate construction to gain pace as well as developers to resume construction work, as most of the labourers have left for their home towns.

That means supply will take a little more time to pick up than demand. This will bring an upward trend in the property prices in the post-COVID-19 world, which means you may have to pay more than what you have to pay today, for the same property. Therefore, it makes sense in buying an apartment in a completed project as soon as possible before prices go up.

Now, you have really convinced me! But I am a numbers man... Tell me more on this aspect and how the prevailing home loan rates are to my advantage… Maybe I may even think of renting the apartment out…

Home loans at prevalent interest rates allow for considerable savings while creating an asset for end-use or investment purpose. Furthermore, the borrower gets to use the savings resulting from a reduced equated monthly instalment (EMI) to avail a top-up loan, also available at lower interest rates.

The additional funds can be used for undertaking interiors related work for the apartment being purchased. Alternatively, a lower interest rate also gives borrowers an option to raise a higher amount of loan. This helps widen the choice in terms of a bigger home with better amenities and lifestyle facilities in a prominent neighbourhood like Hennur Main Road.

A back-of-the-envelope comparison of a 25-year home loan of Rs 1.5 crore at interest rates of 8.5% and 7.75% results in an equated monthly instalment of Rs 1,20,784 and Rs 1,13,299 respectively. The reduced rate of interest gives the borrower an upfront monthly savings of Rs 7,492. If need be, this money can get the borrower a top-up loan of up to Rs 9.9 lakh for enhancing the apartment’s look and feel.

By claiming tax benefits on principal and interest payments under various sections of the Income Tax Act, the borrower is able to further save Rs 9,722 every month or Rs 1,16,666 annually. The effective EMI for the borrower thus comes down to Rs 1,03,577 (including tax benefits) with an effective rate of interest at 6.74%. That’s almost 1% lower rate of interest on the home loan being availed. The overall proposition sweetens further when combined with tax benefits in the case of a joint home loan.

Interestingly, if one compares the present scenario with home loans being offered in the year 2002–03, the interest rates pretty much hovered at similar levels. In fact, lower home loan interest rates coupled with affordable prices acted as catalysts back then leading to a consistent growth in property prices across markets in the ensuing years.

Another benefit of the current home loan interest rate scenario is that a borrower can look at the possibility of going for a fixed rate over a floating one. The latter tends to get volatile and can go north based on monetary policy decisions by the Indian Central Bank.

Banks and other financial institutions typically charge a premium for home loans at fixed rates. So, this option is best availed when overall interest rates are at their lowest. The home loan borrower is able to lock the fixed-rate at a lower level and get rid of the stress arising out of the interest reset practices followed by various lending institutions.

Those looking to acquire a property for investment purposes and earning rental income have their own set of benefits. Rental yields are currently pegged at 2.5%. And with effective interest rates at 6.75%, the net effect, if a home is purchased for letting out, comes to 4.25%. This beats long term inflation figures of India hands down, thus presenting another win-win situation.

An opportunity, in the form of lowest home loan interest rates, is now available. Go ahead, make its best use and fulfill your life dream.

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rjzimmerman · 5 years

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This is a really good article written by Bill McKibben. It will take you a while to read it. The article is long, and if you’re not familiar with some basic financial concepts affecting banks, investment funds and insurance companies, you may stumble around a bit, but I promise that if you’re interested in the topic of who is funding the fossil fuel industry, you’ll get your footing and get all sorts of new information to feed your growing knowledge base.  For a long time, I’ve been taking the position, and expressing it, that you and I and our colleagues can scream all we want, write letters, sign petitions, hold up signs in a demonstration, vote for sympathetic politicians, buy energy efficient light bulbs, recycle, take a bus, buy a better bicycle, breath less (!!) and so on, but the best way to halt greenhouse gas emissions and evolve to a green economy is through money. If the big money people with big bucks stop funding the fossil fuel industry’s growth, and eventually stop funding its daily operations, the fossil fuel industry will wither away. Follow the money, understand money, and understand the power of money.  Here’s an excerpt from the article that might interest you:  Consider a bank like, say, JPMorgan Chase, which is America’s largest bank and the world’s most valuable by market capitalization. In the three years since the end of the Paris climate talks, Chase has reportedly committed a hundred and ninety-six billion dollars in financing for the fossil-fuel industry, much of it to fund extreme new ventures: ultra-deep-sea drilling, Arctic oil extraction, and so on. In each of those years, ExxonMobil, by contrast, spent less than three billion dollars on exploration, research, and development. A hundred and ninety-six billion dollars is larger than the market value of BP; it dwarfs that of the coal companies or the frackers. By this measure, Jamie Dimon, the C.E.O. of JPMorgan Chase, is an oil, coal, and gas baron almost without peer.  But here’s the thing: fossil-fuel financing accounts for only about seven per cent of Chase’s lending and underwriting. The bank lends to everyone else, too—to people who build bowling alleys and beach houses and breweries. And, if the world were to switch decisively to solar and wind power, Chase would lend to renewable-energy companies, too. Indeed, it already does, though on a much smaller scale. (A spokesperson for Chase said that the bank has committed to facilitate two hundred billion dollars in “clean” financing by 2025, but did not specify where the money will go. The bank also pointed out that it has installed 2,570 solar panels at branches in California and New Jersey.) The same is true of the asset-management and insurance industries: without them, the fossil-fuel companies would almost literally run out of gas, but BlackRock and Chubb could survive without their business. It’s possible to imagine these industries, given that the world is now in existential danger, quickly jettisoning their fossil-fuel business. It’s not easy to imagine—capitalism is not noted for surrendering sources of revenue. But, then, the Arctic ice sheet is not noted for melting.  The last minutes of a football game are different from the rest; if you are far enough behind, you dispense with caution. Since gaining a few yards cannot help you, you resort to more desperate, lower-percentage plays. You heave the ball and you hope, and, every once in a while, you win. So a small group of activists has begun probing the financial industry, looking for chances to toss the kind of Hail Mary pass that could yet win this game. The odds are definitely long, but just talking with these groups has begun to lift my despair.

#fossil fuel industry #capital finance #banks #commercial finance #climate change

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phroyd · 5 years

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A fracked natural gas well in northwest Louisiana has been burning for two weeks after suffering a blowout. A state official said the fire will likely burn for the next month before the flames can be brought under control by drilling a relief well.

DeSmog obtained drone video footage shot 10 days* after the blowout, which occurred early in the morning on August 30, the day after the well was hydraulically fractured. A tower of flames reportedly shot into the air that could be seen from more than 30 miles away. While the flames are no longer as intense, the fire is still visible from a distance of more than a mile. GEP Haynesville, LLC, the well’s operator, told local ABC affiliate KPVI that the fire started during flow-back operations, but the exact cause has not been determined yet.

Experts have voiced concerns over the pollution being released, especially given the length of time this fossil fuel well has been leaking and burning.

“Blowouts are (unintended) large, uncontrolled pollutant sources with potentially significant health and environmental consequences,” Gunnar W. Schade, an atmospheric scientist at Texas A&M University, told me via email after viewing the drone video obtained by DeSmog. “Blowouts need to be shut down as soon as possible.”

Sharon Wilson, Texas coordinator of environmental advocacy group Earthworks, outlined what happens during well blowouts like this.

“The gas is under pressure so if they lose control, the gas, frack fluid, produced water, and oil/condensate all blast out of the hole,” Wilson said during a call after viewing the video. “They have to get specialized teams to come shut the well in.”

Air Quality Impacts?

The Louisiana Department of Environmental Quality (LDEQ) has determined that the blowout and fire present no major air quality concerns. “LDEQ responders consider this a very low-impact event,” Greg Langley, LDEQ spokesperson, said via email. “The well is clean, it’s gas and what is being released is being consumed in the fire.”

“LDEQ is receiving daily air monitoring results from the environmental response contractor hired by the well owner,” Langley explained. “The company set up four air monitors to test for sulfur dioxide, hydrogen sulfide, volatile organic compounds, and lower explosive limit. LDEQ also does periodic air monitoring with our own equipment. All meter readings have been below detection limits.”

Most of the air monitoring is being done with a chemical detector called MultiRAEs, according to Langley. When asked which volatile organic compounds, a class of air pollutants that includes the carcinogen benzene, were present, Langley replied, “Nothing was detected.”

“It’s laughable that they say there are no air impacts from this event,” Wilson said. She frequently monitors oil and gas industry sites with an optical gas imaging camera that detects leaking methane and other pollutants invisible to the naked eye. Wilson’s videos have been instrumental in identifying numerous leaking wells in various shale regions across the United States, including Louisiana’s Haynesville Shale, where this blowout is burning. Wilson reports her findings to state regulatory agencies, which on occasion have fined operators for the leaks she flagged.

“Even without my optical gas imaging camera, I know there are air impacts because I can see them with my naked eyes. You can see that the gas coming up is not all being burned off and the plume of smoke and gases is traveling a very far distance,” Wilson said, based on the drone footage.

Wilson recommends placing air sampling equipment on a drone to survey the area above the fire and leaking well.

“The problem is the plume is up much higher than an LDEQ inspector standing on the ground holding a MultiRae meter,” she said.

Wilma Subra, a technical advisor for the Louisiana Environmental Action Network, agrees that using drone would be advisable and that air canister testing should be done too. This latter approach captures air samples over a period of days and measures how much of each compound is present. Subra thinks air canister testing is the best way to know if the emissions around the blowout are a threat to human health.

Louisiana’s Response and Oversight

The Louisiana State Police’s hazmat (hazardous materials) team and the Louisiana Department of Natural Resources (LDNR), which regulates oil and gas production, are also monitoring the blowout.

Like LDEQ, these two agencies concluded the accident did not warrant alerting nearby residents of potential health concerns. A few people live within a mile and a half of the site.

“Any time there is a loss of well control, there is a concern about environmental impacts,” Patrick Courreges, communications director for LDNR, told me. DNR’s “first concern is for the physical safety of the workers on site and for any people potentially affected in nearby homes and businesses,” but in this case the site is fairly remote and air monitoring, in place since the first day of the blowout, hasn’t indicated any potential immediate impacts of harmful gases, he explained.

“Currently, well control contractors are on site, under the supervision of the operator and State Police Incident Command to keep the impacts contained as much as possible, using water to help control the heat and potential spread of flame,” Courreges said. “While there is no good news in a blowout, the fire does actually help with lessening the impact of the escaping methane by burning much of it off, though obviously the goal is to get the flow of methane stopped and the fire out as soon as possible.”

“The longer-term solution is likely to be the drilling of wells to intercept the affected wellheads and stop the flow of gas in the damaged wellheads,” he told me. That might take a month. A design for a relief well has not been submitted yet to DNR, though one is being planned. Drilling a relief well was the same basic approach which ultimately stopped the flow of oil from BP’s Macondo well blowout deep under the Gulf of Mexico in 2010.

“Full-on blowouts in hydraulically fractured Haynesville Shale wells are rare,” Courreges said. “While there have been instances of valves or piping giving way over the years that required emergency response, I don’t recall any blowouts on this scale from those type of wells.”

Wilson is skeptical of that response. “We don't know how common this is because the industry tries very hard to keep these events quiet,” Wilson said. “If they happen in a remote area, no one finds out. They are always downplayed and the regulators help with the deception.” She believes that “there has never been a system in place to adequately regulate this industry, so they are allowed to self-regulate by doing their own testing.”

“For decades we have endured these oil and gas disastrous accidents that have harmed health and pushed us into a climate crisis,” Wilson said, “but we don’t have to put up with this anymore because the technology to transition to clean renewable energy is available today and it’s cheaper. The only thing holding us back is the political will.”

Natural Gas Blowouts

Methane, the main component in natural gas, is a greenhouse gas that is up to 86 times more potent than carbon dioxide in the first 20 years after entering the atmosphere. A study organized by the Environmental Defense Fund (EDF) and published in June last year reports that the U.S. oil and gas supply chain is leaking roughly 60 percent more methane than previous Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) estimates, which largely relied on industry self-reports.

Wilson compared this blowout to the 2015 Aliso Canyon catastrophe in southern California and the 2018 XTO blowout in Ohio, which both gushed large amounts of methane. “This blowout is a huge deal,” Wilson said. “We are at the climate breaking point and no one can even say how much methane is blasting into the air.”

Schade told me that estimating the amount of pollutants released from the “flare” (the industry term for intentionally burning natural gas in oil fields) is possible by looking at data from the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration’s Visible Infrared Imaging Radiometer Suite (VIIRS). This source will show data about the flare detected by satellite, allowing the atmospheric scientist to calculate the estimated amount of heat and emissions.

After reviewing the satellite data available so far, Schade reported the heat generated from this burning Louisiana well is at least three times the magnitude of the largest flares in the Permian oil fields of neighboring Texas. According to his estimates, this burning well may be releasing approximately 8,700 pounds of nitrogen oxides, pollutants that lead to smog and acid rain, each day.

“The emissions from such a source can be enormous,” said Schade.

*Updated 9/13/19: This story has been updated to correct how long after the blowout the drone footage was recorded, which was on September 8.

Phroyd

#fracking #pollution #blow-out

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