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itsgreti · 8 months ago

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BENEATH THE MASK

pairing. simon "ghost" riley x f!reader

summary. (Y/N), Task Force 141's medic, saw Ghost's face for the first time while patching up his injuries.

warning. descriptions of gunfire, explosions, scenes depicting injuries, medical treatments, and blood (typical cod theme)

word count. 2.3k

a/n: english is my second language, so if you find any mistakes, don't hesitate and text me!

The desert wind howled across the rocky terrain as the Task Force 141 team moved swiftly through the night. (Y/N), their medic, felt the weight of her gear as she kept pace with Captain Price, Soap, Gaz, and the mysterious Ghost. She had been with the elite unit for a few months, but Ghost remained an enigma to her, a silent, masked figure whose presence was always felt but never fully seen.

Their mission that night was simple in concept: infiltrate a heavily guarded compound and extract crucial intel regarding a new shipment of chemical weapons. But as they approached the compound under darkness, their plan quickly unravelled. A patrol they hadn't anticipated stumbled upon them, leading to a chaotic firefight.

Bullets whizzed through the air, accompanied by the sharp cracks of rifles and the distant thunder of explosions. (Y/N) took cover behind a crumbling wall, her mind racing as she assessed the wounded. Soap and Gaz held their ground nearby, providing cover fire as Captain Price barked orders over the radio.

Suddenly, Ghost appeared beside her, his presence as silent as ever. He motioned towards Soap, whose shoulder was grazed by a bullet. Without a word, (Y/N) nodded and hurried to assist.

The firefight continued for what felt like an eternity, but the team managed to eliminate the immediate threat. With the area momentarily secure, they regrouped in a small, dimly lit room within the compound. Captain Price leaned over the map spread out on a makeshift table, his brow furrowed in concentration.

"We need that intel," Price said grimly, his voice low yet commanding. "Ghost, find it. (Y/N), patch up whoever needs it and be ready to move out."

(Y/N) nodded, her focus shifting to Soap and Gaz as she pulled out her medical kit. Soap winced as she began to clean and dress his wound, but Gaz remained alert, scanning their surroundings.

As (Y/N) worked, she stole glances at Ghost, who was hunched over a computer terminal in the corner of the room. His movements were precise and deliberate, his gloved hands flying over the keys as he accessed the encrypted files.

The tension in the room was palpable, broken only by the occasional click of Ghost's keystrokes and the muted sounds of the ongoing battle outside. (Y/N) couldn't help but wonder about the man behind the mask—his past, his motivations. But such thoughts had to wait. Right now, their survival depended on securing the intel and getting out safely.

Just as Ghost seemed to make progress, an explosion rocked the building, sending debris flying and knocking everyone off balance. (Y/N) stumbled, but Ghost was quick to steady her, his gloved hand gripping her arm firmly. For a brief moment, she felt the weight of his presence, his strength beneath the mask.

"Ghost!" Captain Price called out, his voice urgent. "We're running out of time. Can you get that intel or not?"

Ghost nodded, his masked face unreadable. With renewed determination, he returned to the terminal, his fingers moving faster now.

Outside, the gunfire intensified, drawing nearer by the second. Soap and Gaz exchanged worried glances, their weapons at the ready. They knew they couldn't hold out much longer.

"Almost there," Ghost muttered under his breath, his eyes fixed on the screen.

Suddenly, the screen flickered and then displayed a map with a blinking marker. Ghost's gloved hand hovered over the keyboard as he extracted the data onto a portable drive.

"We've got it," Ghost announced, his voice calm yet triumphant.

Captain Price wasted no time. "Good. (Y/N), pack up. We're moving out–"

Before Price could finish his sentence, a barrage of gunfire erupted from outside the room. Bullets tore through the walls, sending chunks of debris flying. (Y/N) ducked instinctively, shielding her head with her arms.

In the chaos, Ghost acted decisively. He grabbed (Y/N)'s arm and pulled her towards him, shielding her with his own body as they sought cover behind a thick concrete pillar. His masked face was just inches from hers, his eyes intense behind the tinted lenses.

"Stay down," Ghost ordered, his voice low yet urgent.

(Y/N) nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the heat of his body against hers, his presence a comforting shield amidst the chaos. For the first time, she found herself grateful for his silent strength.

Captain Price and the others returned fire, their shots echoing through the room. The enemy was relentless, their numbers seemingly endless. But Task Force 141 was relentless too, fighting tooth and nail to hold their ground.

As the firefight raged on, (Y/N) couldn't help but steal glances at Ghost. His mask remained firmly in place, betraying nothing of the man beneath. But now, with the adrenaline coursing through her veins, she found herself drawn to him in a way she hadn't before.

"We need to move," Captain Price shouted over the din of gunfire. "Ghost, (Y/N), cover us. Soap, Gaz, with me!"

Without hesitation, Ghost and (Y/N) provided covering fire as Price and the others dashed towards the exit. Bullets whizzed past them, impacting the walls with deadly precision.

"Go!" Ghost called out, his voice barely audible over the cacophony of battle.

(Y/N) nodded and followed Ghost as they made their way towards the exit, their backs pressed against the cold stone walls. The air was thick with smoke and the acrid smell of gunpowder, their lungs burning with each breath.

Just as they reached the exit, a stray grenade sailed through the air and landed at their feet. (Y/N)'s eyes widened in horror as she realized they were trapped. Without thinking, Ghost pushed her behind him and shielded her with his body once more.

The grenade exploded with a deafening roar, sending shrapnel flying in all directions. (Y/N) felt the force of the blast against her back, but Ghost absorbed the brunt of it, his body tensing with the impact. She could hear him grunt in pain, but he didn't falter.

"Ghost!" (Y/N) screamed.

"(Y/N)..." Ghost's voice was strained. He was conscious but clearly in pain.

"Ghost is down!" she shouted into her comms, her voice filled with urgency.

There was a brief crackle of static before Price's voice came through, sharp and focused. "Gaz, Soap, fall back to Ghost's position! (Y/N), get to him now!"

As the smoke cleared, (Y/N) peered around Ghost to assess the damage. His mask was scorched and cracked, revealing a glimpse of his face beneath. Blood trickled down his neck from a gash caused by a piece of shrapnel.

"We need to get him out!" she called out, her voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through her veins.

A few moments later the team managed to get to the position of (Y/N) and Ghost. Soap and Gaz provided cover as Price helped lift Ghost. They moved quickly, bullets whizzing past them, the sounds of battle all around. Outside, the night air was cool against (Y/N)'s skin as they regrouped with the extraction team and jumped into the helicopter that was waiting for them. As everyone was situated, (Y/N) immediately went to work, her focus solely on saving Ghost.

Captain Price and the others scanned the area around the helicopter, holding off the enemy as they flew off. (Y/N) didn't hesitate, knelt beside him. Ignoring his initial resistance, she gently pushed aside his damaged skull mask, and her hands went to his fabric mask that was under the other one.

"I need to see the wound," she said, her voice steady despite the panic rising within her.

Ghost caught her wrist instinctively, his gaze locking with hers. For a moment, neither of them spoke.

"It's alright, I need to patch you up," (Y/N) said softly, her voice barely a whisper.

Ghost hesitated, his grip on her wrist loosening ever so slightly. He gave a barely noticeable nod, allowing her to proceed. (Y/N) peeled back the mask, revealing his face for the first time. His face was a canvas of battle-hardened features, each scar telling a story of survival and sacrifice. A deep, fresh gash ran from his cheek down to his neck, the wound raw and bleeding, but the older scars drew her gaze – the jagged line across his left eyebrow, the faded burn mark along his jawline, and the small, puckered scar near his temple. His skin was pale, almost ghostly, contrasting sharply with the dark stubble that shadowed his jaw. But it was his eyes that caught her attention – dark brown, filled with a mix of determination and vulnerability.

Carefully, (Y/N) cleaned the wound on his neck and applied pressure to staunch the bleeding. Ghost felt a strange mix of emotions. He was not used to being exposed, his face a closely guarded secret. The sensation of her hands, gentle yet firm, was foreign but strangely comforting. Despite the pain, there was a sense of relief, a small crack in the armour he had built around himself.

Even though the severity of the situation, she remained calm, her training guiding her every move. Ghost winced, but he didn't pull away. Instead, he watched her with an intensity that sent a shiver down her spine.

"There," (Y/N) said gently, securing a bandage around his neck. "That should hold for now."

Ghost's eyes met hers, a mixture of pain and gratitude in their depths. "Thanks," he muttered, his voice strained.

"I've got you," she replied firmly. "Just hang on."

As (Y/N) finished, Captain Price stepped over the duo, his expression a mix of concern and relief. "How is he?" he asked, his eyes on Ghost.

(Y/N) looked up, exhaustion evident in her features. "He'll be okay. The wound was serious, but he's stable now."

Price nodded, his respect for (Y/N) clear in his eyes. "Good work. You saved his life."

(Y/N) offered a tired smile. "Just fulfilling my duty."

Price clapped a hand on her shoulder, a rare gesture of affection. The helicopter blades whipped through the night, and (Y/N) stayed beside Ghost, her hands steady as she pressed the bandage on his wound. The field dressings had been held, but the ride was rough, so she kept a close watch to ensure he stayed stable. Despite the dire situation, Ghost’s eyes remained sharp, and focused, a silent testament to his resilience. (Y/N) looked at the others and Ghost knew that she wanted to check on them. He nodded and without another word, he moved (Y/N)’s hand from his gash and pushed her to go to the other injured comrades.

Once she agreed, (Y/N) turned her attention to Soap. She barely took care of his shoulder which took a hit during the firefight, and although he didn’t say anything, she knew he must be in pain.

“Soap,” she called, her voice cutting through the hum of the helicopter. “Let me see your shoulder.”

Soap glanced at her, his usual bravado dimmed by exhaustion. “It’s just a scratch, doc,” he muttered, but he didn’t resist as she moved closer.

(Y/N) carefully peeled back the torn fabric of his sleeve, revealing the graze. The bullet had grazed his shoulder, leaving a raw, bloody scar. She winced at the sight but quickly set to work, cleaning the wound with practised efficiency.

“You need to take it easy,” she said, her tone firm but gentle. “This might not be serious now, but it could get worse if you don’t let it heal.”

Soap grinned, a flicker of his usual humour returning. “Don’t worry about me, lass. I’m tougher than I look.”

(Y/N) smiled back, shaking her head. “Maybe, but even tough guys need to let their medics take care of them.”

As she bandaged his shoulder, Soap’s grin softened into something sincere. “Thanks, doc. We’re lucky to have you.”

She finished securing the bandage and patted his good shoulder. “Just doing my job, Soap. Now sit tight, we’ll be back at base soon.”

She glanced around the helicopter, checking on the rest of the team. Gaz was alert, his eyes scanning the horizon, and Captain Price was deep in thought, already planning their next move. Despite the weariness and the injuries, there was a deep sense of unity among them. They had faced the fire together and come out stronger on the other side.

As the helicopter touched down at the base, the team began to disembark, their movements slow and weary. (Y/N) remained beside Ghost, her presence a steady anchor amidst the chaos. His mask was back in place, hiding his features once more. But now, she knew the man behind the mask – a warrior with a haunted past, driven by a sense of duty and honour. She held his hand gently, ensuring he felt her support. Even through the pain and exhaustion, Ghost’s eyes flickered with a rare vulnerability, acknowledging her silent strength.

As the other medics arrived and began to transfer him onto a stretcher, Ghost’s grip on her hand tightened slightly. “You don’t have to stay,” he muttered, his voice strained but sincere.

(Y/N) smiled softly, squeezing his hand in return. “I want to. You’re my patient and my friend. I’m not leaving you now.”

Ghost’s eyes softened, a flicker of gratitude passing over his features. “Not used to... this kind of care.”

She chuckled lightly, adjusting the blanket around him. “Well, get used to it. You’re stuck with me.”

There was a brief silence as the medics prepared to move him, the sounds of the bustling base fading into the background. Ghost looked at her, his expression serious. “Thanks, (Y/N). For everything.”

(Y/N) leaned closer, her voice gentle but firm. “Just focus on getting better, Ghost. We need you.”

He nodded, a small, almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corners of his mouth behind the fabric mask. “I’ll do my best.”

“You better do,” she said, walking alongside the stretcher as they moved him towards the infirmary.

#call of duty #call of duty x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #simon riley x reader #ghost #ghost x reader #cod mwii #call of duty modern warfare 2 #simon riley x you

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religion-is-a-mental-illness · 14 days ago

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By: Emily Yoffe

Published: Jan 20, 2025

Toward the end of the 2024 presidential campaign, Donald Trump’s campaign released an unexpected ad, and one that was extremely politically effective. The tagline—“Kamala is for they/them. President Trump is for you.”—could go down in history as one of the most effective campaign slogans ever devised.

The ad reinforced a promise Trump repeated at rally after rally as he toured the swing states: If returned to office, he would immediately take on the gender ideology the Biden administration had embraced. Namely, he would end policies such as allowing males on women’s sports teams and in women’s locker rooms, and the housing of male prisoners who identify as transwomen in federal prisons for female offenders.

President Trump has addressed all this and more in an expansive executive order he will sign tomorrow afternoon called “Defending Women from Gender Ideology Extremism and Restoring Biological Truth to the Federal Government.”

Here is what the order sets out:

The Executive Order establishes Government-wide the biological reality of two sexes and clearly defines male and female.

All radical gender ideology guidance, communication, policies, and forms are removed.

Agencies will cease pretending that men can be women and women can be men when enforcing laws that protect against sex discrimination.

“Woman” means an “adult human female.”

The Executive Order directs that Government identification like passports and personnel records will reflect biological reality and not self-assessed gender identity.

The Executive Order ends the practice of housing men in women’s prisons and taxpayer funded “transition” for male prisoners.

The Executive Order ends the forced recitation of “preferred pronouns” and protects Americans’ First Amendment and statutory rights to recognize the biological and binary nature of sex.

This includes protection in the workplace and in federal funded entities like schools.

Asked why Trump is making sex-based policy a day one priority of his administration, an incoming senior administration official said, “This really was a defining issue of the campaign. The president is going to be fulfilling the promises he made on the trail.” The executive order puts it more bluntly: “Radical gender ideology has devastated biological truth and women’s safety and opportunity.”

It is becoming something of a presidential tradition to begin a term with sweeping directives regarding “gender identity.” President Biden, on his first day in office, demanded the federal government “review all existing orders, regulations, guidance documents, policies, programs, or other agency actions” that could impinge on transgender rights. Language and rules about transgender identities became embedded in the vast federal bureaucracy.

Now, Trump has ordered a reversal of all this. In an exclusive briefing with The Free Press, two senior officials provided a summary of the executive order. “Women deserve protections, they deserve dignity, they deserve fairness, they deserve safety,” said a senior policy adviser explaining why the order explicitly embraces the necessity of special treatment for women. “And so this is going to help establish that in federal policy and in federal laws.”

In reading the order, it’s clear that lawsuits challenging the new directives will start stacking up quickly. The order, for example, asserts that “All radical gender ideology guidance, communication, policies, and forms are removed.” This is far from mere symbolism. United States passports—which since 2022 have allowed citizens to choose “X” as their gender—will revert to offering exclusively male and female options, with the proviso that what people select must “reflect biological reality and not self-assessed gender identity.”

The executive order also “ends the forced recitation of ‘preferred pronouns’ and protects Americans’ First Amendment and statutory rights to recognize the biological and binary nature of sex.” When asked about how this would affect public universities, which are bound by the First Amendment’s free speech protections, the senior policy adviser said the U.S. attorney general will enforce these rights. The adviser cited a 2022 federal court ruling to the effect that a Shawnee State University philosophy professor was deprived of his First Amendment rights by being forced to address a transgender student using that student’s chosen pronouns.

The task of the Trump administration now will be to promulgate rules implementing the order, which will affect people’s daily lives. It is inevitable that activist organizations will take these matters to court. The policy adviser said the administration is ready for litigation, predicting Trump will be “100 percent successful.”

It’s a fight the new administration seems to relish. Both officials said the executive order has the potential to broaden the president’s support. “Just take a look at the polling,” the senior official said. “The public is broadly in favor of the president’s and of the Republican Party’s stance on gender. That there are two biological sexes is something that the public is supportive of.”

The executive order does not address one of the most contentious areas of transgender activism: “gender-affirming care” for minors, meaning putting gender-distressed young people on a swift course to transition and lifetime medication. The Biden administration ardently supported such treatments, even as other Western nations began to restrict them, and dozens of U.S. states began to ban them.

The Biden administration sued Tennessee over its ban. That case resulted in a contentious oral argument at the Supreme Court in December, after which most observers felt the court would probably uphold Tennessee’s law.

Asked about why the new executive order does not deal with this, the senior official said, “This executive order is the first of many. I would expect that anything the president said he would do on the trail regarding these issues, he’s going to be fulfilling those promises.”

The order ends with a sweeping statement about the fundamental issue the White House believes is at stake in this order: ”Men and women are equal but have obvious sexual differences,” it reads. “If federal policies promote such an obvious falsehood that men can become women, the government will forfeit all credibility. The government must maintain a commitment to recognizing biological reality to maintain the trust of the American people.”

This order is one of nearly 200 executive actions the White House is rolling out today. Among them: orders to declare a national emergency at the border; end all DEI programs across the federal government; withdrawal from the Paris climate accord; and a return-to-office directive for federal workers.

Go ahead and try to explain how this is unreasonable.

#Emily Yoffe #gender identity ideology #gender ideology #radical gender ideology #queer theory #preferred pronouns #biological reality #sex differences #human biology #human reproduction #biological sex #sex is binary #sex binary #they them #inauguration #biological truth #adult human male #adult human female #religion is a mental illness

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mariacallous · 3 months ago

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Georgians are in the streets fighting for their democracy. The Georgian Dream party, which is working to align Tbilisi with Moscow’s interests, declared victory in the country’s Oct. 26 election before the votes were even counted. Voters and election observers were harassed by Russian-funded gangs and mobsters; just after the election, protesters holding European Union flags were sprayed with water from high-powered hoses. And the person who has the iron will necessary to lead the charge against Russian-inspired authoritarianism in Georgia? A woman: President Salome Zourabichvili.

This is no accident. Across the world, women have, and are, playing incredible roles as bulwarks against the rise of authoritarianism. Moldovan President Maia Sandu is standing up to a tsunami of Russian disinformation. In Poland, women played a critical role in the effort to oust the right-wing populist Law and Justice (PiS) party. In Hong Kong, women continue to be the practical and normative face of resistance to Chinese authoritarian rule.

These are the freedom fighters of the 21st century. And yet, the U.S. national security community tends to view women’s issues as a domestic concern, frivolous, or irrelevant to “hard” security matters. For example, in 2003, discussions of securing Iraq excluded women, with a top U.S. general stating, “When we get the place secure, then we’ll be able to talk about women’s issues.” More recently, the role of women in the military has been reduced to discussions of diversity, equity, and inclusion, rather than a focus on how women have been vital to solving the United States’ most wicked national security problems—from serving on the front lines in combat to providing essential intelligence analysis. But if the overall aim of U.S. national strategy is to shore up democracy and democratic freedoms, the treatment of women and girls cannot be ignored.

Globally, women’s rights are often eroding in both policy and practice, from the struggles of the Iranian and Afghan women who exist under gender apartheid to the Kenyan women experiencing the harsh backlash of the rise of the manosphere. In tandem, there’s been a sharp rise in reports of online harassment and misogyny worldwide.

National security analysts explore issues and psychologies through any number of prisms, but Women, Peace, and Security (WPS) remains an underutilized one. One of the national security community’s core tasks is discerning signals from noise in the global strategic environment, and regressive ideas on gender and gender equality can be a useful proxy metric for democratic backsliding and authoritarian rise.

The United States’ 2023 Strategy and National Action Plan on Women, Peace and Security provides the backbone for the United States to leverage WPS to counter authoritarianism. It highlights that displays of misogyny online are linked to violent action. The plan also points out that formally incorporating gendered perspectives is essential for maintaining democratic institutions at home and modeling them aboard. This includes recognizing misogyny—online or in policy—as an early indicator of authoritarian rise.

Unfortunately, WPS is often misread as simply including more women in the national security workforce. But it is more than that. It offers a framework for understanding why it is useful to take gendered perspectives into account when assessing how the actions of individuals or groups enhance national security, which is especially important at a time when authoritarian regimes are weaponizing gender in ways that strengthen their grip on power domestically and justify their aggression abroad.

In Russia, President Vladimir Putin has argued that he is the guardian of traditional Christian values, telling women that they should be back at home raising children, and has been rolling back domestic violence laws at the same time. Days before invading Ukraine in February 2022, Putin said, “Like it or don’t like it, it’s your duty, my beauty,” which was widely interpreted within Russia as a reference to martial rape. Russia’s own army is built on a foundation of hierarchical hazing in which “inferior” men are degraded by their comrades. With that kind of rhetoric from the top, is it any wonder that Russian soldiers’ war crimes have included the rapes of women and children?

But Putin isn’t alone. In Hungary, Prime Minister Viktor Orban has consolidated media outlets to censor women’s voices, in the name of protecting traditional values. He has also used coercive financial practices to push women out of the workforce and positions of political power and into more traditional roles of wife and mother. In Belarus, President Alexander Lukashenko attempted to force the deportation of the most prominent woman opposition leader and imprisoned her after she tore up her passport to prevent it. In China, where women were once told they “hold up half the sky,” President Xi Jinping has worked to undo decades of Chinese Communist Party policy on gender equality. Chinese women are now being encouraged to return home and become mothers, while feminists have been targeted legally and socially.

The WPS agenda provides the U.S. national security community with three opportunities to recognize, understand, and counter early-stage authoritarianism.

First, the United States can do a much better job of supporting women’s groups around the world as a central aspect of its national security strategy. Women’s groups are often a bellwether for authoritarian rise and democratic backsliding—as currently on display in Russia, China, Hungary, Georgia, and Belarus, where women inside and outside their respective regimes have been specifically targeted or attacked.

Women have also found innovative ways to resist the rise of authoritarian norms. In places like Moldova, women have acted as bulwarks against authoritarianism despite vicious disinformation campaigns targeting women leaders. Yet when it comes to formulating and executing strategies on national security, women’s groups are often left in the margins and their concerns dismissed.

Second, gender perspectives are essential to more fulsome intelligence gathering and analysis. The U.S. intelligence community can do a much better job of integrating gender—particularly as it relates to the treatment of the most vulnerable—as an indicator of societal and democratic health. This includes understanding how both masculinities and femininities influence decision-making and how, in turn, lived experiences act as necessary analytical tools. Training collectors and analysts of intelligence to recognize gendered indicators will provide a more robust view of the geopolitical landscape and fill critical holes in national security decision-making.

Finally, the United States must improve the participation of its national security community in WPS and feminist foreign-policy discussions. For too long, the “hard” security sector has distanced itself from more “human” security-focused endeavors and treated women’s rights as something that’s just nice to have.

Yet national security is an essentially human endeavor, and gender is a central component of what it means to be human. This is something that needs to be appreciated to better understand the many dimensions of the conflict—disinformation, online influence campaigns, and lawfare—that authoritarian regimes are waging against the United States and its allies.

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my-autism-adhd-blog · 3 months ago

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Hi everyone,

It’s been a while since I posted any articles, so I wanted to share one I found about the similarities and differences between autism and BPD (borderline personality disorder).

According to the article:

Various research has shown an overlap between BPD and autism. A 2024 study from the Brighton and Sussex Medical School in the United Kingdom found that not only is there an overlap in the conditions, but that misdiagnosis of the conditions can have a significant effect on the individual.

The researchers found several key issues that came from a misdiagnosis. These key findings included:

Harmful treatment: Certain treatments for BPD, such as “masking,” were shown to be harmful to individuals with a misdiagnosis. Masking involves hiding certain traits, specifically autistic traits. This was linked to increased suicidal ideation and a feeling of powerlessness. Individuals felt they could not change the BPD diagnosis, even though they thought it was not correct.

Stigma: Individuals who received a misdiagnosis of BPD felt it introduced a certain amount of stigma and diagnostic overshadowing. It led to healthcare professionals neglecting the true underlying issues and imposing treatments that were unhelpful and potentially detrimental.

Diagnostic barriers: Individuals found there were substantial barriers to receiving autism assessments after receiving a BPD diagnosis. This delayed appropriate support.

One of the main findings of this research was that those who did receive a correct diagnosis felt it was “life changing.” It gave them access to proper support, which significantly improved their well-being and mental health.

BPD and autism key similarities

There are several key similarities between BPD and autism, including:

emotional dysregulation, which may involveTrusted Source:

intense mood changes

difficulty managing emotions

impulsivity

social difficulties, which may involve:

fear of abandonment

difficulty with interpersonal relationships

difficulty understanding other’s emotions

communication issues, which may involve:

difficulty understanding social cues

difficulty forming relationships

rigid thinking patterns, which may involve:

black-and-white thinking or viewing situations and people as all “good” or all “bad”

rigid routines, specific interests, and rituals

difficulty accepting and adapting to change

difficulty navigating complex social situations

Learn more about borderline personality disorder.

BPD and autism key differences:

Even though there is an overlap between BPD and autism, they are two separate conditions.

BPD is a personality disorder characterized by impulsive behavior, unstable emotions, and an unstable sense of self. Autism is a neurological and developmental condition that involves repetitive behaviors, challenges in social skills, and nonverbal communication.

I’ll leave the full article below in case anyone wants to read it:

#autism #actually autistic #bpd #borderline personality disorder #key differences and similarities #neurodiversity #actually neurodivergent #feel free to share/reblog #Medical News Today

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petrolstationflowers · 9 months ago

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Up to your neck in true crime and feel you can really get into why burglars keep stealing your toilet? Then perhaps the Criminal Psychologist career is for you! This was another request from Catrillion and I had to do a fair bit of digging to make sure this one was accurate.

This job is available for YA - Elder, and you can join via the Police Station. Please note you will need University installed as one of the requirements is the Science skill!

No opportunities or books.

If you want to use this, you must have Nraas Careers installed for it to show up!

There are three custom tones to level your skills:

Build a Rapport (Logic) Write Your Report (Writing) Study Previous Cases (Science)

Coworker tones are the same, and skill tones and uniforms appear from level four. The carpool doesn't appear until level three -- you're a poor postgrad, after all!

Levels under here:

Positive Postgraduate - 10 simoleans p/h, 09:00 - 17:00, M-F Description - It’s been a long road to graduation – plenty of sleepless nights watching true crime documentaries and making flash cards for exams, because Watcher forbid you muddle up the Hansford Prison Experiment and the Toto Doll study. You’ve decided you want to jump right in and get an internship, but where to start? Better start cozying up to your professors and making some phone calls! Enthusiasic Intern - 15 simoleans p/h, 09:00 - 18:00, M-F Description - After laying on the praise and asking very nicely, you’ve managed to secure an internship for the year. The pay is nothing special and the hours are long, but you’re learning a lot, working at the local police station, accompanying jail, and the mental health unit over at Sunset Valley General. You’ll be profiling offenders and writing out risk assessments for those living with Unstable personalities, writing recommendations to make the prison nicer and holding therapy sessions. Better hope they’ve got good coffee! Criminal Psychologist In Training - 30 simoleans p/h, 09:00 - 18:00, M-F Description - If you thought you escaped the classroom, think again. Sure, you’re finally getting to put your skills to use, but while you’re still helping out at the precinct, you’re also trying to put together where your skills lie. Would you be best working at HMS Sunset Valley, overseeing prisoner rehabilitation, or in the interview room at the police station working on a report for Sunset Valley Plumbbob Court? Best find a quiet spot in the legal library and do some studying – oh, and your manager wants those reports by the end of the day.

Junior Criminal Psychologist - 40 simoleans p/h, 09:00 - 18:00, M-F

Description - You’re not quite working in the big leagues yet, but you’re getting there. You’ve been assigned to the psychiatric unit, triaging those who have been sent your way and helping out with various studies being conducted around the facility. You are, however, getting to sit in on diagnostic intakes and occasionally are being trusted to write up your own. Hopefully if you format the reports nicely enough, you’ll be allowed to steer the ship yourself.

Clinical Researcher - 70 simoleans p/h, 09:00 - 18:00, M-F

Description - Now you’ve found your feet, you’ve been assigned to work on a clinical research program. Sure, it’s only a contract job, but you’re learning about kleptomania and why certain sims are compelled to steal street lights. Lots of note taking, interviewing people, and staring at graphs until the numbers blur, but when you finally see patterns and correlations, it’ll all be worth it!

Treatment Psychologist - 80 simoleans p/h, 09:00 - 18:00, M-F

Description - The data about street lights proved fruitful, and the local government have decided that the results are valuable enough to be put into practice. Sunset Valley General has set up a specific ward for those suffering from kleptomania, and you’ll be setting up therapeutic workshops and treatment programs to try and cut down on their thievery. It’ll take time, patience, and empathy – luckily, you’ve got those in spades.

Psychologist - 100 simoleans p/h, 09:00 - 15:00, M-F

Description - Out on your own now, with an office and everything! No longer chained to a hospital or a ugly precinct storage room, you’re free to pursue topics that interest you and studies that make your brain light up. It’s back to assessing and evaluating patients, setting up group studies and making recommendations for them to take a long holiday to Barnacle Bay for the sake of their health. The hours are shorter and pay is better – maybe you’re finally at the top?

Senior Psychologist - 120 simoleans p/h, 10:00 - 17:00, M-F

Description - Business is booming, but there’s something missing; counselling snobby sims through their affluenza or prescribing pills for cowards who can’t stop running away from Bonehilda isn’t as fulfilling as it used to be. You’ve been keeping an eye on local job postings and there’s one that’s caught your eye; something about working with the police force to uncover exactly how their minds work. Perhaps it’s time to spruce up your CV…

Investigator in Training - 150 simoleans p/h, 09:00 - 18:00, M-F

Description - You’re back to long hours and endless studying, but this one is paid well and comes with lots of benefits; namely, finally getting to study some of SimNation’s most intriguing criminals up close. You’re not being turned loose quite yet, so for the moment you’ll need to shadow your fellow officers and write up dictated reports on just why you think the Tricou family died and who had the motive to arrange Bella Goth’s disappearance. Keep your nose to the grindstone and soon you’ll be free of hours long recordings and into the interrogation rooms yourself.

Criminal Investigator - 200 simoleans p/h, 09:00 - 18:00, T,W,U

Description - That work has paid off and you’re finally where you wanted to be – sitting across the table from some of the most dangerous people in SimNation. When Circe Beaker has been hauled in for illegal experimentation and Roderick Synapse has finally been arrested for kidnap, it’s your job to sit down with them and pick apart their alibis. You’ll need to walk the fine line between professional and friendly, keep a cool head when you’re hearing the horrors, and be able to put together everything you’ve learned in a well written report – best get the coffee ready.

Translations: I've included the English Strings in the file; if anyone is talented enough to translate, I would be incredibly grateful, so please let me know in the comments!

With thanks: To MissyHissy's career building tutorial!

#ts3 #ts3cc #the sims 3 #sims 3 custom content #the sims custom job #the sims 3 custom career #criminal psychologist #psychology

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covid-safer-hotties · 3 months ago

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Also preserved in our archive (Daily updates!)

There've been a lot of studies showing vitamin D deficiency in people with mild to severe covid cases. A new meta-analysis probes into the possible connections and effects of vitamin D during acute covid infections.

By Dr. Liji Thomas, MD

New study suggests vitamin D supplementation may lower ICU and intubation rates in COVID-19 patients, with greater benefits seen in older and severe cases.

The impact of vitamin D on the progression of COVID-19 remains uncertain. A recent meta-analysis in Nutrients reviewed studies on vitamin D supplementation in COVID-19 patients to assess its effectiveness in reducing disease severity across various health metrics.

Why is vitamin D important? Vitamin D is essential for bone health, but its influence extends far beyond, as its receptor is present in all nucleated human cells. This receptor regulates nearly 4% of human genes, impacting many physiological processes, including cancer development, muscle function, cardiovascular health, glucose balance, and immune response to infections and autoimmune reactions.

With the onset of the SARS-CoV-2 pandemic, there was significant interest in whether vitamin D could reduce the severity or spread of COVID-19. Vitamin D plays a role in immunity by lowering the release of pro-inflammatory cytokines, boosting antimicrobial peptides, supporting epithelial barriers, and modulating T-cell activity—mechanisms that may help prevent the severe hyperinflammation associated with critical COVID-19 cases and high mortality.

This study investigates the protective effects of vitamin D supplementation during COVID-19, used alongside standard treatments like glucocorticoids, anticoagulants, and antivirals, as recommended in current care guidelines.

About the study The researchers included 21 randomized controlled trials (RCTs) and eight analytical studies in the meta-analysis. Of these, mortality rates were examined in 19 RCTs and seven analytical studies, intensive care unit (ICU) admissions in 14 and five, respectively, intubation rates in nine and three, respectively, and the length of hospital stay (LOS) only in RCTs.

Vitamin D dosage varied considerably between studies, both in intervention and control groups.

Vitamin D and ICU admissions In the randomized controlled trials (RCTs), vitamin D supplementation demonstrated a stronger protective effect at higher doses compared to lower doses. Specifically, higher doses were associated with a 63% reduction in ICU admission rates compared to lower doses.

ICU admissions decreased by 57% among patients aged 65 or older and by 44% among those under 65. Patients with severe disease did not show a significant response to vitamin D, while those with non-severe disease experienced 33% fewer ICU admissions.

Intubation rates Intubation rates fell by 50% in RCTs. The lack of effect in analytical studies may have been because they were carried out only in non-severe older COVID-19 patients and were limited in number.

The tendency towards significance strengthens the hypothesis of the benefit of vitamin D in reducing the need for intubation during COVID-19.

Mortality rates Mortality rates showed significant differences in the vitamin D supplementation group but only in analytical studies, with a fall of 55%. This might indicate a tendency to bias in analytical studies.

Despite the overall lack of significance, age-stratified analysis of the RCTs showed a 42% reduction in mortality in older patients but not those <65 years. The authors suggested that the overall analysis might have failed to reveal these more granular effects.

Another interesting effect was that vitamin D supplementation had a more marked mortality-reducing impact in the early months of the pandemic, up to May 2020, than later on.

Finally, the most ill patients had a 50% mortality reduction benefit, but not the less severely ill patients. Thus, mortality analyses in the RCTs present a complex picture, with significant protective effects observable in some subgroups but not in the overall analysis.

LOS Among non-severe COVID-19 patients, vitamin D supplementation was associated with a -0.95-day difference in hospital length of stay. Potential benefits could exist in other groups, but this awaits validation from future research.

The variations between studies should be interpreted as accounting for the forms of vitamin D in use, such as calcifediol or cholecalciferol.

The latter is faster-acting than the former, which may make a difference in acute severe COVID-19, especially as evidence indicates that active vitamin D is used up in the acute response to the infection.

However, broad differences were noted across the studies, including baseline vitamin D levels, dosages, and duration of symptoms before vitamin D supplementation. Still, the findings agree with some previous analyses, with a more nuanced conclusion.

Conclusions The findings do indicate that vitamin D supplementation could be of benefit in COVID-19 treatment, reducing ICU admissions, mortality, and intubation requirements. All studies showed fewer ICU admissions in the intervention group.

“The differing effects based on age, disease severity, and possibly baseline vitamin D status highlight the need for a nuanced approach to vitamin D supplementation in COVID-19 management.”

The greatest effect seems to be in reducing ICU admissions. Still, with differences in the evidence across various patient subgroups and for different outcomes, there is a need for larger trials with a better design that adjusts for baseline vitamin D levels and uses standardized dosages and regimens, as well as compensating for patient characteristics.

Journal reference: Sartini, M., Puente, F. D., Carbone, A., et al. (2024). The Effect of Vitamin D Supplementation Post COVID-19 Infection and Related Outcomes: A Systematic Review and Meta-Analysis. Nutrients. doi: doi.org/10.3390/nu16223794. www.mdpi.com/2072-6643/16/22/3794.

#mask up #covid #pandemic #public health #wear a mask #wear a respirator #covid 19 #coronavirus #still coviding #sars cov 2 #vitamin d

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sjsmith56 · 1 month ago

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The Whole Damn Thing

Summary: Set in December 1944. Bucky makes a pass at a new nurse but is firmly rejected. When he learns why he attempts to be a friend instead.

Length: 6.1 K

Characters: Bucky Barnes, named OFC, not described, Steve Rogers, Howling Commandos, minor OFCs.

Warnings: WW2 Bucky (the flirting guy), grief, losing loved ones, pressures of the job, no smut.

Author notes: This story bridges both Christmas and New Year’s Eve in 1944, but the final part is set post FATWS. It didn’t start out to be so sad but it’s unavoidable knowing what happens to Bucky. ATS stands for Auxiliary Territorial Service, the women’s branch of the British Army. The majority of the women were assigned to work at bases as clerks, cooks, etc. The feast they were given for Christmas breakfast and dinner likely wouldn’t have happened considering rationing but this is fiction.

December 1944

It had been one of the more gruelling missions for the Howling Commandos. Although they succeeded in destroying their target it came at a cost. Even Cap bore injuries from the beating they took against one of the elite HYDRA divisions. On the flight home to their base in England, the others tended to the cuts and wounds inflicted on them. All were ordered to check in with the medical unit for further treatment.

“Even you, Buck,” said Cap, knowing his friend would try to talk his way out of it. “I expect to see you there.”

“Steve, I’m fine,” protested Bucky. “After a couple of days rest, I’ll be right as rain.”

His protests fell on deaf ears and once they disembarked from their air transport and transferred to the truck, Cap ordered the driver to take them directly to the base medical unit, while he checked in with Colonel Phillips and set up their debriefing. He made it clear that if any of them stepped foot out of the infirmary before he got there, they would be restricted to base instead of being given liberty. Grumbling loudly, the men obeyed the order and waited stoically to be seen by a doctor then tended by a nurse. Bucky hung back at the end of the lineup, hoping to slip out after Steve arrived but had no such luck and had to face the doctor, who determined Bucky needed to have several grazes from bullets seen to. As he sat there with his upper body uncovered a new nurse arrived with a cart of supplies to treat him. He eyed her, appreciating what he was seeing.

“You’re new,” he said, as she prepared everything to treat his wounds. “Haven’t seen you around before.”

“Yes, Sergeant. I am new here.” She focused on the two graze injuries, one on his shoulder and the other on his side. “Arrived three days ago. Looks like you dodged a couple of bullets.”

“Tried to,” he shrugged, then smiled. “What’s your name?”

“Lieutenant Lovegood,” she replied briskly.

His grin was almost wider than his face. “You’re serious?” She gave him a deadpan expression. “Do you?”

She stood tall, her hands on her hips and fixed a steely gaze on him. “I beg your pardon?” He stopped grinning, trying to be serious but not quite succeeding. “I’m an officer, Sergeant, and you’re an NCO. I expect a certain level of respect from you.”

Steve appeared, having heard the exchange from the next cubicle, frowning at Bucky. “Is everything alright here, Lieutenant?”

“Nothing I can’t handle, Captain.” She looked back at Bucky. “Isn’t that right, Sergeant?”

He licked his lips and nodded. “Yes, ma’am. I apologize for my poorly chosen words. I didn’t mean any disrespect to you.”

She nodded and continued to treat him, bandaging him up while Steve watched. When she was done, she advised him to keep the wounds clean and return in three days for them to be assessed, then took the cart away. Bucky put his undershirt and over-shirt on, then picked up his jacket, ignoring Steve’s glare. Once they were out of the infirmary the young captain turned to him.

“What the hell, Bucky? I know you’ve dated almost every nurse there, but did you have to ask her that?”

“Oh, come on, Steve,” protested the sergeant. “It was a perfectly valid question for a looker with the last name of Lovegood.”

“Which she’s probably heard from every guy she’s ever come across. Do you ever think of being something other than the guy who’s gone through the entire population of single women on the base?”

He put his hand up when Bucky started answering the question, not wanting to hear it. Heading to their quarters, the two men washed up, changing into fatigues, then headed to the mess tent. It being only a week until Christmas the menu had been enlarged to include some traditional seasonal foods of both England and the United States, and the team took advantage to try them out. While they ate at the same table Bucky noticed several nurses arriving for a break, including Lt. Lovegood.

She seemed pleasant enough as she listened to the other nurses talk, occasionally adding in her opinion if she was asked but she appeared content to observe more than actively participate. As Bucky watched her the other men in the Commandos noticed his behaviour and gave each other winks over Sergeant Barnes next target. The consensus was that Bucky would have a date with her by the weekend. As the nurses’ break ended Bucky beckoned to one of them, who excused herself from the others.

“Hey Sarge,” she drawled in her Georgia accent. “Who do you want to know about?”

“Stella, my southern belle, why do you always assume I want to know about another nurse? I thought you were my number one girl.”

“That was before our last date and before I met Lt. Delisle,” she answered, “and was proposed to. You’re fun Bucky, but you’re not exactly made out for a long relationship.”

He placed his hand over his heart, looking wounded. “I’m hurt, darlin’, truly hurt.” She grinned at the others, knowing she was right. “But since you’re asking, what’s the story on the new lieutenant?”

“Millie?” He nodded. “I don’t think you have much of a chance with her Bucky. She’s pretty serious. Good nurse and she gets along with everyone, but she’s been asked out several times since she got here and turned down every one of them. She’s already volunteered for Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, New Year’s Eve, and New Year’s Day night duty. Said she’s not interested in any of the celebrations.” The attractive blonde shrugged. “If she wants to work those days I don’t mind. It means I get two days leave with John.”

Called by one of the nurses to return to the unit she waved at them and headed out into the wintry night to walk the short distance back to her duties. Bucky sat back, thinking over what she said about the new nurse. At least he had her first name, Millie. He did like a challenge.

After the debriefing the following morning, Bucky returned to the infirmary, saying he needed some aspirin for a headache. He didn’t see Lt. Lovegood and asked about her.

“She’s in London,” said the senior nurse on duty. “She’ll be back tomorrow.”

No other explanation was given and all of his inquiries to the other nurses didn’t provide any answers. Every time he showed up over the next few days in the hopes of speaking with her, she was busy with another soldier. He had to admit that her lack of availability began to make him believe he was never going to get a chance to convince Lt. Lovegood to go out with him.

It was late Christmas Eve when he tried again. Leaving a Christmas party at the local pub, he showed up at the medical unit, knowing that she was on duty. As he waited in the foyer he peeked into the ward where there were several soldiers too injured to be released back to their units. He saw Lt. Lovegood sitting beside the bed of a young airman who had received extensive burns from a fire on the bomber he was in. With his arms heavily bandaged she was writing a letter for him. Quietly opening the door Bucky waited just inside, hoping to catch her attention. Instead, he found himself listening to something that was meant to be private.

“How do I tell her that my arms and hands are badly burnt?” asked the airman. “She won’t want me when she sees my arms.”

“Exactly like that,” replied Lovegood, gently. “The truth can be painful to hear but it’s always best. If your fiancée truly loves you the scarring won’t matter, not when she has the rest of you back in one piece.”

He shook his head. “We were homecoming king and queen in our senior year of high school. Everyone said we looked so good together, like movie stars.”

“So, you spent your time together staring at yourselves in a mirror. Is that how your relationship went?”

“No,” he smiled shyly. “In fact, one of the best memories I have is when we got caught in a rainstorm and soaked through. Her hair was all flat and we both looked like drowned rats, but we just laughed at how both of us forgot to bring an umbrella that day.”

“So, you have seen each other when you weren’t at your best and you still love each other.” She smiled at him. “Sounds like she’s the one, Private.” She looked at her watch then back at the door, noticing Bucky there. “I have to see to another soldier. Why don’t you think on what you want to say, and I’ll come back to write for you. We’ll get that letter into the outgoing mail by morning.”

“Sorry,” said Bucky, as she approached. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. I’ve been trying to see you alone for a couple of days.”

“It’s alright,” she answered, surprising him with her kind tone. “Follow me.”

She led him to a room, gesturing for him to sit on the treatment bed. Pulling up a chair, she sat and looked at him.

“Why are you so insistent on seeing me?” she asked. “I’m sure the other nurses have told you that I’m not interested in pursuing a relationship with anyone.”

“It seems lonely,” he replied. “We’re in the middle of a war, with soldiers dying or coming back with wounds that could change their lives drastically. I just thought we could go out for drinks, dance a little, make out a little and enjoy what time we have left with each other. Even if we don’t go past drinks, I just wanted a chance to get to know you.”

Her sad smile made him feel like he had just stepped over that line again. “What if I told you that I’ve already done that, twice. Not with you, obviously, but allowed myself to become involved with a soldier just like you.”

“Sweetheart, there’s no one like me.” His grin failed to bring out a similar response from her and Bucky’s face became serious. “What happened?”

“The first soldier I gave my heart to was killed in Sicily,” she said. “I was stationed in North Africa then. After he died, I was transferred to London. Met and fell in love with a bomber pilot. A month ago, he received a head injury on the flight back from Germany. He barely survived the surgery he needed to remove shrapnel from his brain. They transferred me here because I couldn’t do my job being near him. It was too painful. Being here gives me something to focus on.”

“You were in London recently,” said Bucky.

She nodded. “He didn’t regain consciousness before he died, but I already accepted that he was gone from me. I was there when he took his last breath. They offered to give me leave but where would I go? Home? I’m a nurse and I’m needed here. So, I do my job, eat, sleep, get up and do my job some more. It keeps me going.” She fixed her eyes on him. “That’s why I won’t go out with anyone, and I don’t want to get to know you personally. My heart isn’t in it and I’ve kind of accepted that maybe I’m not meant to fall in love. I’m not meant for the whole damn thing.” She stood up. “Now, if you would please allow me to do my job, I promised Private Wainwright that I would write a letter to his fiancée for him. I’d like to get it into the outgoing mail in the morning.”

Running his hand through his hair Bucky nodded and hopped off the bed. Allowing her to leave first, he watched as she returned to the bedside of the burnt airman. Smiling warmly at the young man, she picked up the writing paper and started to write as he dictated to her. As Bucky left the building, he looked up at the clear night sky, identifying several constellations that weren’t visible from Brooklyn. He pulled his pack of cigarettes out and lit one up, thinking of what Lt. Millie Lovegood had revealed to him.

He couldn’t fault her logic, and even though she said she accepted that the second man was already dead well before he took his last breath, he figured she was still hurting and grieving his death. So, maybe pursuing her for a date wasn’t in the cards but there was no reason they couldn’t be friends, was there? He took a long drag of his cigarette then moved his head back and let the smoke out forcefully. He could be her friend. It would be a good thing for him to be friends with her. He could do this.

Christmas morning breakfast was a special occasion as someone high up had arranged for fresh eggs and bacon to be procured and the cooks were making the eggs to order. There were also an assortment of pastries including cinnamon buns, danishes and muffins. Bucky, noticing the nurses hadn’t yet arrived took two large plates over to the pastry choices which were rapidly depleting, and loaded them up with an assortment of the tasty treats. When he brought them back to the table where the rest of the team were, several of the men reached out for them.

“Back off,” said Bucky, standing up with the plates in his hands so they were out of their reach. “These aren’t for your mugs. I’m saving them for the nurses. They’ll all be gone by the time they get here.”

“Still trying, hey Sarge?” asked Morita. “You think Lt. Lovegood is going to go out with you because you saved her a muffin?”

“Not trying to go out with her,” he answered. “She has her reasons to turn me down, and I respect them. Just being a friend to all of them. They work hard and I thought it would be nice to show them some appreciation.”

Several puzzled looks were exchanged, although Steve smiled warmly at his best friend, as Bucky had confided in him on his return to their barracks the night before. It was a nice thing to do for all of the nurses and he knew it would be appreciated by them. When the ladies did arrive, and their faces fell a little at the limited choice, Bucky got up with his two plates and set them down in front of the surprised nurses.

“Merry Christmas, ladies,” he smiled. “I had to fight them off to save some of the best for you.”

There was a chorus of “Thank you, Bucky” and “Thanks, Sarge” given, but Lt. Lovegood just presented him with a warm smile. He nodded and returned to his table, finishing off his coffee, before putting his coat on and heading out into the cold air. For the rest of the day, he relaxed, reading a book, then took in a Christmas movie in the mess hall as the sounds of the kitchen staff preparing the Christmas dinner occasionally drew his attention. With a full pack of cigarettes in hand, he stepped into the busy kitchen getting the attention of one of the ATS cooks, a lovely English woman named Marjorie who reminded him of a younger version of his mother. In the brisk atmosphere of the busy kitchen, he offered her the cigarettes for a favour, explaining how he wanted to make sure the nurses had a good selection of the food brought in for the Americans, when they came off duty. She negotiated for some of his chocolate rations as well, which he gladly gave up, knowing that Marjorie would come through for him. Then he asked for an extra slice of pumpkin pie be saved for him, to be picked up that evening.

“That’s a tall order, Sergeant,” she teased. “You must want it for someone special.”

“Yeah, a friend,” he smiled. “She’s missing her fella. He didn’t make it, so I’m just trying to be kind to her.”

“Alright, then. I’ll make sure it’s ready for you. You’re a good egg, Sergeant.”

“I try.”

With a small smile at her, he left her with the cigarettes, promising to come back with the chocolate right away. After making good on that, he joined the lineup that was already forming outside for Christmas dinner. The smells wafting out of the hall every time the door opened were mouth watering and the sense of anticipation was building in everyone. When the nurses arrived, they took up their positions at the end of the line, commiserating with each other that the food selection wouldn’t be that great by the time they got up to where it would be distributed. Then Marjorie’s supervisor, a matronly Sergeant Major, appeared at the door to the mess hall. She nodded at Bucky then strode down the line to where the nurses were waiting.

“Ladies, I have permission to allow you to enter first,” she smiled. “Colonel Phillips himself said that your efforts to provide care to our soldiers often go overlooked. Not today. Please, follow me in, before we allow the men inside.”

Bucky, still waiting in line, frowned when he heard the murmurs of how the old man had authorized the nurses getting served first, wondering if Marjorie had told a tall tale to her supervisor to get it happening. Regardless, the looks on their faces as they walked past the long line of men was worth it and he felt good about at least thinking of it. It didn’t matter if the Colonel upstaged him because they did deserve it. All the women here deserved to be appreciated.

By the time he got his food the place was full, there was Christmas music playing, and the laughter of good cheer brought a smile to everyone. As quickly as a table was vacated, an ATS kitchen helper was at the table, wiping it down and making sure the salt and pepper shakers were full for the next batch of soldiers. As the table next to his was being cleaned by Marjorie, she leaned over to him.

“Someone told the Colonel how you made sure the nurses had pastries available to them this morning. After you left Sergeant Major Worthington announced that the nurses would get first choice for the Christmas dinner, by the Colonel’s orders. You can have your cigarettes and chocolate back.”

“Keep them,” he smiled. “A Christmas present for another lady who should be appreciated. I’m sure you’ll make good use of them.”

Her face beamed, then she leaned close to him again. “Thank you, Sergeant. I’ll bring your extra slice of pie out for you right away.”

Once he received it, he left, returning to his bunk and placing it on his footlocker, while he laid on top of his bed. As the other soldiers on the Commandos entered the barracks, they glanced at the tin foil covered plate, but no one took it, nor did they say anything. It was as if they already knew it was meant for someone else. Later, after most of the others were asleep, Bucky quietly put his coat on, took the plate, and slipped outside, walking in the dark towards the medical wards where Lt. Lovegood was one of two nurses on duty. Peeking in the window into the ward, he saw her at her desk, the only light in the room coming from the one on the desktop, filling in notes, and occasionally glancing up at a soldier if one made a sound of distress. Quietly pushing the door open, he coughed lightly and smiled as she looked at him from her desk. The desk lamp made a halo of light appear around her head, touching something deep inside Bucky.

“I didn’t know if you had time to have some pie before you went on duty, so I brought you a piece,” he whispered, putting the plate on the desk.

“You must have bribed the kitchen staff to save it,” she joked. “The others said the pie was gone before the turkey.”

He shrugged. “I may have called in a favour.” He lifted a chair up from the next desk and placed it near hers. “I forgot the fork.”

“I can manage,” she smiled, unwrapping the tin foil. She picked the piece up in her hand and bit the end off. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure.” He looked around at the half-filled ward. “Quiet night.”

She nodded. “They sent some of them to London for specialized treatment. Private Worthington is still here. He got his orders to return home in a few days. Might get there before his letter does.” She took another bite of the pie and offered it to Bucky. Carefully, he bit into it as she held it to his lips. “I know by your accent that you’re from New York. What else can you tell me about yourself?”

“Brooklyn, actually,” he grinned. “I thought you didn’t want to get personal.”

“Just being friendly.”

He breathed out. “I’m 27, was a dock worker, then was in art school for technical drawing. Always wanted to be an engineer but the Depression made it hard to afford college and the money I did make went to surviving. Captain Rogers and I have known each other since we were kids. He’s the brother my parents never had, although I have a sister. I read, like to listen to music and dance. That’s me, in a nutshell.”

“You’re also a lot of fun, by what the other nurses told me,” she added. “They all think you have fine qualities but you’re not ready to settle down. Sometimes, I’ve seen you look sad, like you wish you were somewhere else.”

He scoffed lightly but didn’t contradict her, wondering if his own worries about what he was hiding from everyone were visible to someone perceptive. She didn’t ask for more, so he didn’t offer any more details.

“How long have you been a nurse?” he asked.

“Two and a half years. I was in my final year of nursing school when Pearl Harbor happened, and I signed up for the service before I graduated. Didn’t get to North Africa until the Allies had control of parts of it in late 1942. Deployed to London in July 1943 and was there until this month.” She looked over at the men who were still sleeping. “I like my job but there are days I hate it, especially when a patient is broken and I’m not talking about his body. There’s so much hurt in them, and they’ll never be the same again.”

She sighed, then lifted the pie up and took another bite, before putting it back on the plate and pushing it towards him. The sound of a patient choking drew her immediately to his bed and she looked at Bucky.

“Would you go across the hall and summon Captain Harris? This man needs help.”

He went across and opened the door to another ward, where another nurse was checking a patient while the doctor was writing in a binder.

“Lt. Lovegood needs help with a patient,” said Bucky, stepping back as the doctor strode quickly past him.

He watched from the window as she and the doctor worked on clearing the obstruction from the patient’s airway. Knowing he could do nothing, Bucky left, stepping out into the clear winter’s night. The nurses here might not be facing guns, but they faced death every day. He wasn’t sure he could do what they did. On the walk back to his barracks he thought of how much they gave of themselves to the men in their care every day, always calmly and professionally. No wonder Lt. Lovegood had been offended when he made fun of her name, making a joke about the double entendre meaning of it. That she was still pleasant to him was proof she was a better person than he was.

Over the next week, he saw the nurse in passing, occasionally saying hi. They sometimes had coffee together, with others, not saying much but being pleasant to each other. He was surprised when the night before New Year’s Eve, she made an appearance with Stella at a pub in the local town, and he stood up, gesturing to them to sit with him and several other of the Howling Commandos. It was an even bigger surprise when they accepted and a scramble to find two other chairs saw all of them putting their best behaviour on.

“What can we get you ladies to drink?” asked Major Falsworth, ever the gentleman.

“Gin and tonic for me,” said Stella.

“Rum and Coke, please,” answered Lovegood, finding herself next to Bucky. She looked around. “This is quaint.”

“It’s friendly enough,” he replied. “They’re used to us and know that we keep the riff raff out.”

“That’s because we’re the riff raff,” joked Dum Dum, who extended his hand and introduced himself. “Haven’t seen you here before Lt. Lovegood.”

“No, I haven’t gone to any of the local pubs but I’m on night duty the next two nights and Stella, Lt. Meriweather, suggested I indulge for at least one night. Do you gentlemen come here often?”

“All the time,” replied Morita. “Sarge makes the rounds of most of the pubs when he’s on the prowl although lately he’s been limited to here or the base.” He jumped in surprise then reached under the table to rub his shin. “Ow, Sarge. What did you do that for?”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about, Private. I just moved my feet. Thought I hit the table leg.”

Both women grinned, then thanked Falsworth as he returned with their drinks. As the evening went on, and the stories became wilder and funnier, Bucky found himself more aware of Millie, which she insisted on him calling her when they were off base. She laughed at many of the stories shared by the other men, often looking at him with a big smile on her face when they brought up some of his feats that weren’t classified. It was still early when Stella returned to base, as she was on duty at 6 am. Falsworth escorted her back, claiming he wished to write a letter to his family before lights out. The other four, Dum Dum, Morita, Jones and Dernier, left together, leaving Bucky and Millie on their own. For a busy and somewhat loud pub, it was quiet at their table, as they rarely talked, then Bucky finished his beer.

“I’m ready to go back,” he said. “Are you?”

She nodded and they stepped out into the dark night, a heavy cloud cover blocking the light of a slightly waning moon. Pulling a shielded torch from her purse she shone it on the sidewalk ahead of them as they headed towards the bus stop. A boisterous group of British soldiers barrelled into them and Bucky automatically put his arm around her to shield her from their intrusion. At that moment they both saw the bus pulling away from the stop some distance away.

“Well, I guess we walk,” she said, sounding slightly resigned to the prospect. “At least it’s not too cold.”

Keeping her hand in the crook of Bucky’s arm they walked side by side, keeping their thoughts to themselves. He noticed that she was shivering and pulled his overcoat off, draping it over her shoulders, despite her objections. With a considerable distance still to go, a lorry making a delivery to the base stopped and the driver offered them both a ride. They squeezed into the front seat with him and his assistant. It wasn’t much warmer in the unheated cab, but it got them to the base faster. He let them off as he offered the guard at the gate his papers. Bucky and Millie thanked him, then checked in with the other guard, signing their names on the list to show they were back.

“Your men seem very fond of you,” she remarked as they walked the final distance to the barracks, the nurses one first, since it was attached to the infirmary and medical wards. “I haven’t laughed like that for some time. You’re very informal with the ranks in your unit, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, it seems that way,” he agreed. “Major Falsworth could have his own unit in the British Army, but he prefers to be with us, and he doesn’t put himself above anyone else, even though we’re NCO’s and enlisted. Cap is usually with us but he’s in London with the Colonel. He makes the final decision, but we arrive at it together and if something goes wrong, he takes the blame. So far, we’ve been lucky.”

They stopped at the door to the nurse’s quarters, and she took his overcoat off, handing it to him.

“Thank you,” she murmured. “You’re a gentleman, Bucky. It’s one of your finest qualities.”

He smiled self-consciously, then offered her his hand. When she took it and leaned forward to kiss him where his cheek met his lips it made him speechless. Without saying anything more, she turned and went inside, leaving him touching the skin where her lips had been. It took him some time to fall asleep as he thought about possibilities in ways he never had before.

There was an air of excitement on the base the following day, as a surprise dance had been approved for the mess hall on December 31, 1944. After breakfast, the mess hall was closed to allow for the group organizing the dance the opportunity to decorate it for the occasion, with streamers and bunting everywhere. Sandwiches were on the menu for lunch and dinner, distributed to the different barracks by runners sent to the kitchen. Everyone else spent the day preparing for the evening, as lineups at the showers and lavatory sinks showed most of the soldiers were inclined to actually be clean shaven for the event. Everyone at the base, male and female were invited, and there were rumours that a real band had been formed from the ranks to entertain everyone.

It was everything that everyone expected and for those who stayed on base there was a lot of fun, even though it was officially a dry event. Several privately owned flasks were still distributed throughout the hall, topping up the coffees and soft drinks made available to the rank and file. The officers on duty turned a blind eye to it, as long as the overall behaviour remained within the bounds of propriety. Bucky made himself available for duty, keeping an eye on the goings on, although he did take a turn on the dance floor with Marjorie, showing off their Lindy to the applause of everyone who were impressed with the ease the young sergeant moved in concert with the older ATS kitchen cook who could still dance up a storm.

Afterwards, noting the time, Bucky begged off for a quick break, hurrying over to the infirmary, with a piece of cake that was baked to celebrate the coming new year. With a big smile on his face, he stepped into Millie’s ward and lost the smile when he saw her at the bedside of a new patient, a soldier who had been hit by a lorry early that morning, as he was too drunk to get out of the way and in the clouded out blackout conditions wasn’t visible to the driver until it was too late. It was in the morning report and was the reason behind the on base dance, to keep the soldiers off the streets on this night of all nights. His body, encased in several casts covering his legs and arms, was immobilized but his eyes were staring up into the ceiling. The doctor, who had been listening to the man’s chest, shook his head and stood up, then looked at the time before marking something on the man’s chart. With a clarity that sliced into him, Bucky realized the man had just died. Slowly, sadly, Millie placed the man’s hands on his chest, then drew the sheet over his head and wearily stood up. Noticing Bucky, she shook her head, not wanting to talk to him at the moment. He withdrew to the foyer between the two wards, the piece of cake still in his hand, and sat on the bench along the way, waiting for her.

After an hour or so, well after midnight, two orderlies came out of a third door with a gurney and entered Millie’s ward. Leaving the cake on the bench, Bucky watched through the window as they carefully lifted the man from the bed and onto the gurney, then covered him with another sheet and brought him out the door where he was standing, disappearing through the third door. Looking through the window, Bucky saw Millie stripping the bed of its sheets, dropping them into a hamper, then she remade the bed. Her corners were precise and perfect. The doctor said something to her, and she nodded, putting her coat on and came out the door where he was.

“Not here,” she said tersely.

He followed her outside into the crisp winter air, leaving the cake behind. She walked to where there was an open space that showed all of the night sky, thousands of stars visible to them even with the almost full moon visible and lighting up the snowy landscape. A sob escaped from her huddled body and Bucky touched her shoulder. Whirling around she buried her face in his shoulder, weeping. Enclosing her in his arms, he murmured softly to her, telling her it was okay to cry. After some time releasing her grief, she pulled herself away from him, and looked beseechingly at his face. The moon lit her hair up, catching the loose strands in its silvery light, making her look otherworldly.

“Promise me,” she cried. “Promise you’ll come back to me. Promise.”

“I’ll come back to you,” he replied. “I’ll come back, and we’ll get married and have kids and a house and a yard. I’ll do everything I can to make you happy because I love you and you deserve to be loved fully and completely.”

“You better come back to me, Bucky,” she said, just before she kissed him passionately. “Don’t break your promise.”

“Never,” he smiled, cupping her tear-stained face in his hands. “I’ll always come back to you, Millie. Always.”

Present Day

Bucky stood up from the gravestone at Arlington National Cemetery, and brushed the leaves off his knees, then wiped the remaining tears from his face. It had taken some doing to track down what happened to Mildred Lovegood, who retired from the United States Army as a full colonel during the Vietnam War. She never married, always saying she was married to the job. She died in 1985, of cancer.

“She was the one,” he said to Sam, who had helped Bucky track down the career army nurse’s gravesite. “After I died, she didn’t look for love at all. Her World War II diary in the military museum said she believed she was cursed and that any man who loved her wouldn’t come back. She was wrong; it was wartime and just the way it was for some people. I would have spent a lifetime with her; with a home, family, pets … the whole damn thing.”

He ran his hand through his hair, then took the bouquet of red roses from Sam, placing them at the base of her headstone. His friend placed a warm hand on Bucky’s shoulder, squeezing it. Some love stories were never meant to have a happy ending. At least for this one, he would have closure and for someone who spent so long lost to time, that was a victory all in itself. With a shaky breath, Bucky nodded, and the two men turned away from the grave. At the car, Bucky looked around at her final resting place, happy that Millie had been buried there. She deserved it, being the best damn nurse he ever knew. He would make the journey there many times, making good on his promise to always come back to her. It was the least he could do.

One Shots Masterlist

Please support the author by reblogging.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #buckybarnes original female character #james buchanan barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes oneshot #ww2 bucky barnes #bucky barnes x ofc #support non smut #no smut #ww2 Christmas #ww2 New Year’s Eve

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saphronethaleph · 5 months ago

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Outpatient Procedure

The door opened, and Janice Olken looked up.

“Chris H?” she asked.

“That’s me,” the man agreed, somewhat nervously. “The receptionist told me to come straight here – is that all right?”

“That’s quite correct,” Janice agreed. “My previous appointment cancelled, and we’ve got a lot to go through… take a seat, please.”

She shuffled away the papers she was working on, official forms, then assessed Chris.

“All right,” she said. “This is the last meeting before you’re committed, but it’s the first meeting with me, so I hope you’ll forgive me that we go through some basics.”

“Not a problem,” Chris replied. “It’s taken so long to get here already, I’m quite patient.”

Janice smiled slightly.

“No doubt,” she said, bringing up the man’s file. “Let’s see… all right, I’ve gone over your chart, but I need to confirm a few things. No heart conditions or history of heart conditions?”

“My paternal grandfather died at fifty-two,” Chris answered. “That was a heart attack. My father’s now sixty-eight. No other history of heart problems in the family.”

Janice nodded, confirming that. Chris himself was thirty-one, which was well before the point that even a hereditary problem of the same scale as his paternal grandfather would manifest.

“That’s what I’ve got here,” she said. “And your referring physician said that that shouldn’t be a significant problem… any known allergies?”

“Hayfever, but I manage it with medication,” Chris replied. “Isn’t this on my chart?”

“Like I say, it’s my first meeting with you,” Janice pointed out, not unkindly. “I need to confirm a few details… any other medication that you take on a regular basis, besides hayfever medication?”

“No,” Chris answered. “And before you ask – I don’t smoke, I drink no more than two units a week, and I get about four hours of exercise per week.”

Janice confirmed those matched what was on the chart, then picked up a clipboard and a sheaf of paper.

“All right, Mr. Hall,” she said. “If you could tell me your reason for seeking treatment? In your own words.”

Chris’s gaze flicked up to the diplomas hanging behind Janice’s desk, then he focused on her again.

“Self-affirmation,” he answered, steadily enough. “That’s why it’s taken so long, right?”

“Affirmative treatment does tend to take longer,” Janice agreed. “It’s an abundance of caution, as I’m sure you’re well aware, but it’s considered to be an elective treatment and – while I have my own thoughts on whether it should be categorized the same way as other elective treatment – it’s probably a good thing that permanent body modification is hedged about with certain safeguards.”

“Do you think they’re all medically necessary?” Chris asked, sounding somewhat bitter. “The amount of time I’ve spent on-”

He shook his head, cutting the statement off.

“Sorry,” he added. “It’s just been… frustrating.”

“I understand your position,” Janice said, evenly. “A lot of the people who I see coming into this office have faced the same thing. Count yourself lucky that you passed the psychiatric evaluation.”

“Yeah, that was…” Chris began, then shook his head. “It was an ordeal.”

Janice nodded, slightly, taking some more notes.

“Now, I’m afraid that because of your reason for treatment I need to go through some legally mandated questions and comments,” she went on. “I appreciate that some of them will sound nonsensical. But they are required and there’s not really any getting around that. Even if you’ve heard – and answered – them before.”

She flicked to the second page on her clipboard. “I am required to ask you if you have undergone a period of non-treatment affirmation.”

“Yes, insofar as that’s possible,” Chris muttered. “I’ve got a suit, if that’s what you mean.”

“That is the usual way,” Janice confirmed, with a slight smile. “I know it’s a shame you probably won’t need it any more, given the investment.”

“No, I intend to keep it,” Chris said. “It’s… helped me, and I kind of like the idea of being able to be in public as myself without people knowing.”

Janice nodded, making a mental tick mark.

“I am also required to point out that the proposed treatment is permanent,” she said. “And to ask you if you have considered alternatives.”

Chris stared.

“Even at this point you have to ask that stupid question?” he asked. “It’s been years since I started this process!”

Janice let the shout die away, then tilted her head slightly.

“It’s a legal requirement,” she stressed slightly. “I have to ask these questions. It’s out of my… hands.”

Chris looked down, stifling a sigh.

“Right, right,” he said. “I get it, it’s just… I know it’s the law, but these are stupid laws. Right?”

“I couldn’t possibly comment,” Janice said. “Your answer?”

“I’ve considered alternatives, yeah,” Chris replied. “I wouldn’t be here, two and a half years into this process, if any of the alternatives worked for me.”

Janice made a precise tick mark on her sheet, then turned over another page.

“I am required to read you the following,” she said, then cleared her throat slightly. “The process of therianization is a process that is poorly understood. It is a process that cannot be reversed. Patients who have undergone therianization gain a strong allergic reaction to certain metals, including cadmium, silver and palladium. These metals are commonly found in jewellery and catalytic converters.”

She glanced up at Chris, noting his reaction to the disclaimer, and kept going. “The process of therianization is also recorded to have a high regret rate, with twenty-seven percent of those who underwent the process for bodily affirmation reasons registering their regret in questionnaires after one year and forty-five percent after two years.”

It went on, and on, for almost a page, until Janice finally reached the end, ticked another checkbox, and put the clipboard down.

Chris looked like he was about to explode, but contained himself, and Janice held up a hand.

“I know,” she said. “Having reached the end of what I am legally required to read, I can tell you that most of the statistics included are not statistics that I consider to be true. They are, however, part of the Therianization Medical Use Act, so I have no choice but to read them for you and to confirm that I have read them for you.”

“Well, you’ve done that,” Chris admitted, with a sigh. “I just… why is it so hard to do this?”

“You saw the protestors, I take it?” Janice said, glancing towards the door and the front of the building beyond. “That’s just one reason why.”

“Right, right,” Chris groaned. “It just feels… completely backwards. Does everyone who comes to you have this much trouble?”

It was a rhetorical question, because they both knew the answer, but Janice provided it anyway.

“No,” she said, simply. “They do not. In any case where the treatment is associated with directly saving a patient’s life, instead of improving their mental health, the consent required is… significantly less stringent. But I’m sure Phyllis went over it with you – it’s the kind of thing she does.”

“You know her?” Chris asked, curious.

“Of course,” Janice replied. “As odd as it may sound, there’s not actually all that many Registered Theiran Practitioners in the country – there’s a reason you were referred to me from all the way over in Oxford. I make it a point to at least meet all the physicians who’ve referred patients to me in the past.”

She checked over the notes she’d taken again. “All right, Mr. Hall. That all seems in order… now, before we go through the requirements of what you’ll need to do before the actual surgical appointment, we should probably make sure you have a good appointment slot as soon as possible. Can you do an evening appointment next Thursday?”

“...next Thursday?” Chris said, sounding astonished. “That soon?”

“That’s the day of the full moon,” Janice replied. “If we get everything out of the way today, then I don’t actually need to be able to speak during your surgical appointment… just to be able to bite you.”

She smiled, and this time it had a lupine cast to it. “Though I’m sure you’ll want to familiarize yourself with what I look like then anyway…”

#original fiction #short story #werewolf #trans allegory #healthcare #therian

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noirandchocolate · 2 years ago

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RICE Alzheimer's Research Institute

Terry died on 12 March 2015, having given his PCA a run for its money. Open about his diagnosis, he has helped to unlock the secrecy and stigma that often surrounds dementia. His legion of fans is undoubtedly grateful that despite the inevitable progression of the PCA he was able to fight his ‘embuggerance’ and continue to produce a number of both well-received and well-reviewed books. Terry was also a great example to me in emphasizing how important it is that, in caring for people with any type of dementia, we always look for what people with a condition like PCA can still do, rather than what they can’t: by maximizing what is possible, a person can still live well with dementia for a significant time.

--Professor Roy Jones, Director of RICE (taken from “Terry Pratchett: His World”)

I wanted to post something for the Glorious 25th about the Research Institute for the Care of Older People (RICE) in Bath, where Sir Terry Pratchett received treatment for Post-Cortical Atrophy, the type of Alzheimer's disease that eventually took his life. From the organization's website:

RICE established one of the first memory clinic services in the UK in 1987 – a service which has since been widely replicated and is now considered standard and best practice by the NHS. In fact, RICE now runs the NHS Memory Clinic in Bath and North East Somerset on behalf of the local clinical commissioning group and local authority through a sub-contract with HCRG Care Group. To date, we’ve assessed, diagnosed, treated and advised 12,000 people with memory problems and their families in our memory clinic.

Most of RICE’s clinical services and research activities take place in our own purpose built, specialist centre located on the Royal United Hospital site. The building of the RICE Centre was possible as a result of generous donations from major donors, trusts and foundations, and members of the public. RICE moved into the ground and first floor of the centre in 2008. Following the success of the DementiaPlus Appeal and further generous donations from major donors, trusts and foundations and members of the public, RICE converted the attic floor in 2019 to create more office space. This has given us access to much needed additional rooms and offices which will enable us to grow and run more services and activities. We’ve worked hard to ensure that the areas of the centre visited by our patients meets their needs and we regularly receive feedback on how much our patients enjoy their visit to our centre.

RICE not only provides clinical services to patients, but also conducts research into aging and dementia, including performing clinical trials for new drug treatments for memory-related diseases and developing other "techniques for diagnosing, managing, treating and understanding dementia and memory changes in older adults."

Lady Lyn Pratchett is the patron of the organization, and the website includes a page about how people can donate funds or volunteer at the clinic and participate in fundraising events.

SO, if you'd like to help fund Alzheimer's research on this Glorious 25th of May--or at any time--in honor of the Man in the Hat, take a look!

#terry pratchett #gnu terry pratchett #discworld #the glorious 25th of may #research institute for the care of older people #alzheimer's #signal boosting is appreciated too!

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elexuscal · 1 year ago

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Murderbot Diaries Book Summaries

The release of the 7th book in the Murderbot Diaries series, System Collapse, approaches in November!

I've seen at least one person looking for a summary of past events... So I've made just that! If it's been a while since you read previous books (or you just like hopping into series half-way through), this will get you up to speed!

That said, this absolutely has spoilers, so if that's not your jam, turn away now.

====

Short Story – Compulsory: A recently-rogue Murderbot decides on a whim to rescue a miner who falls into a ventilation shaft. We see its developing love of Sanctuary Moon and what is implied to be the first time it violated its orders to protect someone.

All Systems Red (ASR):

Murderbot is the contractually-obligated security guard on a survey of "surprisingly nice" scientists. Dr. Mensah particularly impresses Murderbot for her level head and kind nature. It turns out their survey is being sabotaged by the cut-throat corporation GreyCris, who don't want them uncovering alien remnants. Murderbot and the scientists go back-and-forth protecting one another. The survey team discover that it's rogue. After some initial tension, they accept it as a team-member. They escape GreyCris, although Murderbot nearly dies in the process. When it wakes up again, the scientists have bought/freed it. In the name of self-actualization, Murderbot runs away.

Artificial Condition (AC): Murderbot sets off to investigate Ganaka Pit, the facility where it supposedly killed a large number of its own clients. On the way, it discovers the spaceship it's travelling on actually dangerously hyper-intelligent. After some initial threats/tension, the two bond over TV. The Asshole Research Transport (ART) helps disguise Murderbot as a human. With ART's help, Murderbot uncovers that the mass death was a tragic accident caused by ComfortUnit malware. Posing as a human, the pair help rescue a trio of researchers and their data from their shitty ex-boss, and set a ComfortUnit free.

Rogue Protocol (RP):

On an impromptu quest to get blackmail on GreyCris for Dr. Mensah's ongoing legal battle, Murderbot investigates an abandoned terraforming facility. It meets a cheerful robot named Miki who immediately declares themselves friends. Miki is helping a human assessment team who become imperiled when they're attacked both by CombatBots and their own double-dealing human security. Murderbot reflectively rescues them, posing as a Definitely Normal SecUnit, although the team's leader clearly sees through that claim. Murderbot manages to collect the intel on GrayCris and protect the humans, but not before Miki performs a heroic sacrifice.

Exit Strategy (ES):

After discovering Dr. Mensah has been kidnapped by GreyCris, Murderbot rushes to save her. This forces it to re-unite with the other survey members; Pin-Lee, Ratthi, and Gurathin. While unsure of each other, the team manage to rescue their friend. Murderbot attempts a self-destructive last-stand against a CombatSecUnit, only for the humans to save its ass. The team escapes on a company gunship, but not before Murderbot melts its brain fighting off killware. When it rebuilds its systems, it decides to stay with its humans in the Preservation Alliance for a while.

Short Story - Home, Range, Niche, Territory:

Shortly after Exit Strategy, Dr. Mensah reflects on her time in captivity and her new friendship with SecUnit. Apparently she's been avoiding getting treatment for her extensive emotional trauma. She has a panic attack when she's cornered by a journalist, who's scared off by Murderbot.

Fugitive Telemetry (FT): A human is found dead. Murderbot is called in as a consultant on the case, in the hopes of building good will with Preservation Security. Eventually it manages to prove itself, particularly after it succeeds in a daring rescue of kidnapped corporate refugees. One of the refugees realises it's a SecUnit and shoots it. The dead human turns out to have been a liberator of indentured labourers, and the killer was actually the Port Authority robot Balin, who was secretly a disguised CombatBot acting on outside orders. The local bot community intervenes to stop Balin from hurting anyone else.

Network Effect (NE):

Murderbot is providing security for a Preservation Alliance survey which goes south when raiders attack and try to take Dr. Mensah's brother-in-law, Thiago, hostage. It then goes doubly south when, on the way home, the team's ship gets attacked by... ART?

It appears that ART has been deleted and its crew has gone missing, replaced with mysterious grey people. While protecting a team of its humans, including Dr. Mensah's teenage daughter Amena, Murderbot manages to reboot ART. ART kills the grey humans but refuses to let everyone go until and unless they help it retrieve its crew. Everyone reluctantly agrees, but Murderbot is pissed.

Eventually Murderbot and ART make up. Then they create a sort-of-baby in the form of a killware copy of Murderbot who dubs itself Murderbot 2.0. Half of ART's missing crew is found on a local planet's surface, though Murderbot is captured while helping them escape. Murderbot 2.0 manages to rescue the other half from a spaceship with the help of the newly freed SecUnit 3. The local colonists are discovered to have gone a liiiiitttle bit kooky due to infection via an alien fungus. ART threatens to bomb their colony to get Murderbot back. Murderbot gets infected, but Murderbot 2.0 does a self-sacrificial attack to save it and destroy the fungi's primary host. Meanwhile, the humans, ART, and SecUnit 3 work together to rescue Murderbot without any more bloodshed.

Murderbot has a bit of an epiphany that all its various friends do in fact love and care for it. When an understandably pissed and confused Dr. Mensah shows up like a month later, the groups decide on forming a mutual partnership. Murderbot tells Dr. Mensah that it would like to work with ART for a little while.

#murderbot diaries #martha wells #system collapse #making a succinct yet understandable summary of Network Effect is HARD #i'll be reblogging to add a character sheet in like a day

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hellodarling1357 · 1 year ago

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Hello! I saw that your requests are open (hopefully it wasn't a post from long ago) and I'd like yo ask if you could write something about what happens to Cassian and reader's relationship when his bond with Nesta snaps. Like reader and him were together for centuries and he has to make a very difficult decision, whether to reject the bond or accelt it. I read Drunk Words, Sober Thoughts and I loved it so I believe you could make a very good multi parts fic to this too. Much love ❤️

The Wrong Ones: Part 1 - Cassian x Reader

Do I have a million WIPs? Yes

Do I have another multi-chapter fic on the go? Also Yes

But I was going through my inbox and remembered this request from weeks ago and got super excited about an idea I had for it, so here we are...

Thank you so so so much @justdreamstars!! Sorry it's taken me this long to get it started

Enjoy 🥰

Word Count: 2.2k

You had first met Cassian on a battlefield during the early months of the war against the fae and the humans. Well, to be more precise, you had first met him in a sweltering healing tent, filled with the scent of blood and rot, on the sidelines of said battlefield.

Being no more than a few months past 26, you had been young, far too young to be forced to witness the horrors of war. But that could be said for the majority of the males you tended to throughout those seven years of hell.

You had felt underprepared when you first received the letter that your skills were required on the front line along with the others in your year. Having just passed the halfway mark of your training, your fear that you weren’t full equipped sent you into a panic induced spiral. You were quick to learn, however, that war didn’t require the precision of healing you were yet to be taught. Instead, it required someone with a strong stomach who new how to stop a body bleeding by whatever means possible.

The first soldier you tended to on your first day had died under your care. The shock of seeing his eyes turn blank and vacant had you momentarily retching up the little food left in your stomach. Your supervisor was quick to send you back to your tent, ordering you to pull yourself together then report back immediately. Although, in hindsight, you knew the soldier wouldn’t have made it through the night, your slow movements as you tried to perfectly stitch the wound together had cost you precious time. It was a mistake you never made again.

*****

“Oh fuck, incoming.” Teresa, one of your closest friends at the camp, yelled out as a mass of soldiers piled in through the entrance, supporting others who were either unconscious or unable to stand.

You slipped into a cool and calculating composure, keeping your mind clear of everything other than the injured males who were being led towards unoccupied beds.

“Right, how many do we have?” You asked, pulling your hair away from your face as you assessed the groans of pain and gruelling wounds. You had quickly moved up in the healing ranks, now being entrusted to oversee the ongoings of the tent whenever the main healers were absent.

“Fifteen. There were more but they have no chance, so we prioritised getting these ones here first.”

You fought down the anger at the commander’s words. They had no right in choosing who lived and died, who they could leave behind. But it wasn’t your place to question him and, as much as you hated to admit it, he was probably right in doing so.

You nodded your thanks before rushing over to the bed with the fewest healers around it.

“Damages?”

One of the healers listed off their observations and what they had done so far in terms of treatment as you looked over the unconscious male in front of you. He was Illyrian. Their unit had only recently been posted so you hadn’t had much experience when it came to healing wings. Luckily, or unlucky depending on how you looked at it, his wings seemed to be in okay shape.

“The swelling on his head seems to be the main source of trauma, it’s already starting to bruise—“

“That would also explain the unconsciousness with no evidence of significant blood loss.” Your fingers gently pressed against his skull. “Alright, if that’s it, Lessa can you look after him? Find me if there’s any changes or if… what the fuck?”

You had just taken a step back when you noticed the small pool of blood that was dripping from the bed. Leaping into action, you ripped away his shirt only to find a worryingly deep, albeit short, wound pressed along his ribs, quick to apply pressure as you barked for someone to bring you supplies.

“Why,” You asked, a sharpness to your tone, “was this not noticed earlier? Why did no one think that there could be injuries underneath his uniform?”

“Sorry,” One of the younger healers stammered, she had only been here for a week. “We… I… I didn’t know how to go about removing his shirt around his wings…”

You let out a sigh before taking in a deep breath as she trailed off as if just realising that now wasn’t the time or place to be concerned with properly undressing a patient.

“It’s fine, okay? You won’t do it again,” You let some softness edge into your voice, thinking back to your first day and the fatal mistakes you had made. “Go and take a break, alright? Grab some food and have a rest, I’ve got it from here.” You dismissed the other two healers, asking them to see if anyone else needed their help.

Easing your hand away from the wound, you quickly cleaned it before stitching and dressing it, reminding yourself to find the young healer when you were done for the day to check in on how she was going. After what was almost a colossal error, you checked over the soldier yourself for any other missed injuries or concerns and, thankfully, found none other than a few small scratches here and there.

The soldier remained unconscious, that being your biggest concern, but there was nothing else you could do for the moment so you moved along to the next patient, assisting where you could for the remainder of the day, but you kept finding yourself back to where the Illyrian soldier lay, checking over him again and again for any signs of change.

Night had finally fallen, and, with it, the fighting had stopped, at least for another day. Yet, as healers filtered out in search for a meal or their bed you remained behind, clearing up the tent, one eye fixed on the Illyrian soldier who was yet to stir.

“Y/N?” Teresa called out from the entrance of the tent. “You coming?”

“No, I want to wait a bit longer, see if he wakes up,” You motioned towards the soldier you sat beside as you prepped medical supplies in the momentary stillness. “We don’t know how he will be when he comes to, so I don’t want to leave him here by himself.”

Teresa knew there would be no arguing with you, instead, she gave you a small smile and promised to bring you some dinner which you gratefully ate half an hour later.

“Y/N?” A small voice called as you finished checking the injuries of one of the soldiers who had been brought in the day before.

“Hi, it’s Grace, right?” You asked the young healer from earlier. She gave you a meek nod, avoiding your gaze as she zeroed in on the soldier who still lay unconscious.

“Is he…?” She trailed off, her face pale as she anxiously twisted her hands together.

“Still no changes,” You knew better than to say he was going to be fine, there was no guarantee of anything anymore. “How are you feeling, Grace?” Your voice was gentle as you led her to one of the chairs pushed against the canvas of the tent, letting her collect herself as you went about making her a cup of tea.

She remained silent until the steaming mug was pressed into her hands, “I’m… I’m hopeless at this. I thought I could do it, my whole life all I’ve wanted to do is help people, but now I just… I can’t even do a basic thing like check over a patient.”

Tears filled her eyes, as she stared down at the floor.

“Grace?” You grasped one of her shaking hands, making her look up at you with a comforting squeeze before saying, “You’re not hopeless. You were thrown into this without the proper training, we all were. But what we all need to do now is the best we can and to learn from our mistakes, because we’re going to make them, regardless of if there’s a war going on or not, okay?”

She offered you a small, watery smile, “You don’t though. Make mistakes that is. You’re only three years older than me and you’re already one of the most respected healers here.”

Taking a sip from your own mug, you gave Grace a small smile of your own. “I make mistakes every day, we all do. But the longer you’re here, the faster you get at correcting them. All it is is practice. Besides, my first day here? My very first patient? He died on my watch, and it was because of a stupid mistake, alright? So it happens to everyone, don’t beat yourself up over today.”

“Really? But… What did you do?” Your stomach coiled at the memory, the guilt never truly leaving. But her wide eyes had you pushing that down.

“I was trying to impress my supervisor by showing off the perfect stitch. He died from blood loss that could have easily been avoided if I had acted faster and not let my ego get in the way.”

“Oh.”

“We all make mistakes; we just need to learn from them. Now it’s late, so go get some rest.” She bid you goodnight, leaving you in the silence of the tent.

You walked back over to the Illyrian soldier, pulling aside the bandages to check over the wound to his ribs.

“I’m not too sure if I want you looking over them. Doesn’t sound like you have much luck with stitches.” You jumped at the deep rasp of the male’s voice, assuming that he had still been unconscious by how still his body was.

You tore your eyes up to his face and found the most stunning shade of hazel staring back at you.

“You… you’re awake.” All your training and bed manner seemed to fly out the window as his lips pulled into a teasing smile. He adjusted slightly, the pain that took over his features had you jumping into action.

“You’re okay. Where does it hurt?” Your fingers gently prodded at the bruising around his temple, noting the swelling had already started to go down. You brushed back his hair to get a better look at the injury as you waited for him to answer.

“No where when you do that,” You quizzically looked at him, wondering if there had been some sort of brain damage from the evident blow he had received, but he continued talking, “Honestly, the feel of your fingers running through my hair might just be worth the throbbing against my ribs.”

You ignored his quip, focusing on the, very limited, information he gave you.

His ribs. Fine. At least you knew what was causing him the most pain.

Moving so you were by his ribs again, you gently pressed around the area of the wound, watching his face for any sort of reaction.

“Does it feel like something could be lodged in there? Or is it just the wound itself?”

“It’s fine, just hurt a little bit when I moved,” His nonchalant act didn’t fool you as you prodded again, causing a flicker of discomfort to flash across his face. “Okay, yep, right there. Fuck that’s painful.”

You gave him an apologetic smile as you assessed the wound further.

“Sorry. You may have some bruised ribs; I don’t think they’re broken though. I’m going to dress the wound then wrap everything up to keep it in place, alright? I’ll let you get some sleep and then I’ll check in on you again in the morning.”

The Illyrian soldier grimaced but made not fuss like you had experienced with some of the other soldiers. Just as you were finishing wrapping the bandages he asked, “What’s your name?”

“I’m Y/N,” You offered another tight, apologetic smile as you pulled on the bandages to ensure they were tightly secured before tying them off, his slight hiss of pain was the only sign he gave that it had hurt.

“Sorry.” You repeated.

“Don’t worry about it,” You cautiously watched as he adjusted himself into a more comfortable position. Shutting his eyes for a moment as the pain settled before opening them to stare right at.

“It’s nice to meet you, Y/N,” A charming smile spread across his features as his hazel eyes remained fixed on you, causing your heart to falter in your chest.

“I’m Cassian.”

*****

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