#EMT Training New York

[fox-poke-fanatic]

Random fun fact about me: I actually have EMT training. I took a course when I was 17 and passed the certification exam.

[hiiikiko]

𝖘𝖕𝖎𝖉𝖊𝖗𝖒𝖆𝖓!𝖊𝖑𝖑𝖎𝖊 𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖈𝖆𝖓𝖔𝖓𝖘

tlou m.list | caught in your web m.list

[a/n]: hi! i hope you’ll all accept this, i hv work today n i’ll be workin until like 9 p.m but i’ll make sure to write tmrw !! n ty for all the likes on this series ♡

‿̩͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿̩͙‿

♰ before ellie got bitten, she wore glasses but after she didn’t need them anymore. she still wears them with the lenses popped out though because she thinks she looks weird without them, although she doesn’t wear them at school that often

♰ when she gets in a fight with tommy or maria, she sneaks out her window and finds a nice quiet roof to sit and listen to music, sometimes smoke but she’s cut back since her vigilante career began

♰ she has backpacks hidden all over the city so she can make a quick change. there’s one at school, the library, oscorp labs, the planetarium, and your apartment

♰ she knows you can handle yourself but that doesn’t stop her from following you home, like, come on! new york city is pretty dangerous and don’t you like having your very own vigilante??

♰ might be a little stalkerish but she sometimes hangs out on the roof of the building across your apartment building so she can watch you go about your evening, she doesn’t mean to do it but somehow she always ends up there

♰ she carries pepper spray even though she has literal superpowers

♰ she’s trained her spider sense to be even more heightened so that she can fight with her airpods in

♰ she has a playlist for fighting bad guys

♰ even though she’s city renowned spiderman, she still helps the elderly cross the street and help cats out of trees (she’s a little hesistant to help the cats because of how hard it is to mend scratches on her suits fabric)

♰ she owns a spiderman figurine like what did you expect? she’s a fan girl of the avengers, she owns all their figurines and they are in mint condition so why wouldn’t she own her own?? like that has to be the coolest thing to her

♰ concert tickets are expensive so sometimes she uses her powers for “bad” and sneaks into venues (she says it’s anti capitalist but really, she’s just being cheap)

♰ she has nightmares about turning into a real spider, kinda like franz kafka (she actually read this book in freshman lit and it scarred her)

♰ another one of her biggest fears is like what if she’s having sex with someone and she’s fingering them and her webs somehow shoot up into them?? like how do you explain that to a doctor?? this keeps her up at night

♰ seeing you in spiderman merch makes the tips of her ears go red and her heart race

♰ she cringes whenever she sees spiderman edits on her fyp

♰ onlyfans ppl who make content in her suit kinda scare her LMAO

♰ she actually doesn’t mind that everyone assumes spidey is a man, it helps her hide her identity but it kinda pisses her off that people can’t tell she’s a girl?? like do you not see the boobs . (her suit actually flattens her and all the protection gear inside gives her a pretty boxy figure so you can’t really tell)

♰ she has a hate/love relationship with her webs because on one hand she’s scared of touching people and on the other, she likes that she can ‘glue’ her camera to her hands when she’s on more dangerous photo ops and that she doesn’t have to get up from her bed to get her guitar (although, one time she hit herself in the face because she didn’t get it fast enough)

♰ ellie’s a different type of spiderman.. she’s actually very violent! especially against criminals who hurt others just for fun, she’ll beat them to a bloody pulp and leave them their for the ambulance to find (she leaves a note apologizing to the emts and sheriff, but it’s not like she killed them! nobody thinks that spiderman could do this so they assume there’s another vigilante out there, a more violent one *ahem* deadpool)

♰ she met deadpool once.. never again

♰ much like her infected bite from the game, her spider bite has caused cobwebs to grow in her veins

[girlactionfigure]

Daniel Lewin and Mohammad Hamdani were two 9/11 heroes with very different stories.

Known as Danny by his friends, Lewin was the first person to die in the terrorist attacks, sixteen years ago today.

Danny was a passenger on American Airlines Flight 11 and an Israeli-American veteran of an elite IDF combat unit. He was trained in counter-terrorism and spoke fluent Arabic.

Investigators pieced together that Danny heard the terrorists plotting in Arabic and tried to stop the hijacking. He was stabbed to death by Saudi law student Satam al-Suqami.

Born and raised in Denver, Colorado, Danny emigrated to Israel with his family as a teenager. As a newcomer, he could have skipped his military service, but chose instead to serve and work his way up to the toughest unit in the IDF. He later became a successful internet entrepreneur.

Only 31 when he died, Danny had already made his mark on the world.

Mohammad Hamdani was a first responder who died at the World Trade Center on 9/11.

Mohammad immigrated with his family from Pakistan when he was a year old and grew up in Queens, NY. He played football for Bayside High. Hard-working and ambitious, Mohammad became an EMT and then a police cadet. He also applied to medical school, and in September 2001 he was waiting to hear if he’d been accepted. 

On the morning of 9/11, Mohammad was taking an elevated subway on his way to work when he saw smoke coming from the twin towers. He got off the train and rushed to the World Trade Center to help. Mohammad was never seen alive again. He was only 23 years old.

At first Mohammad was listed as missing. Because of his Muslim background and lack of connection to the World Trade Center, he came under suspicion of being involved in the attack. The cloud over his name did not lift until his remains were found at Ground Zero in October 2001, along with his medical bag and ID. 

Mohammad Hamdani was buried with full honors from the the New York Police Department, and proclaimed a hero by the city’s police commissioner. He is mentioned in the Patriot Act as an example of Muslim-American valor on 9/11. 

May the memories of these two righteous young men always be for a blessing.

Accidental Talmudist

[endless-ineffabilities]

find me a guy who went to both Yale and Harvard, earned a JD-MBA, passed the New York State bar exam, studied Japanese history, trained and worked as an EMT, worked as an editor-in-chief and is now a political journalist/correspondent, founded a nonprofit while still in the eighth grade, performed stand-up comedy, is passionate about public service/upholding civil rights/environmental advocacy, champions the Democratic Party, is a water sports enthusiast, and who generally does not give a fuck about what dissenters say about him on the internet...

...and maybe I can get over Jack Schlossberg.

[jacks-weird-world]

Do you have any fun facts about Jack? Mine is a random one, he was an EMT!

Thx, Gal. ×🩺×

None in particular, but I don't know why I find it funny that he had small jobs like: paddling instructor in Hawaii, in addition to having worked at Manhattan kayak too. But these are things that are part of his hobbies, so. 😜

Ya, Yes, he took a preparatory course during his years at Yale. Pretty cool! It was his best phase in my opinion. I wish I had followed him back then.

"John Bouvier Kennedy Schlossberg — JFK’s only grandson, the son of Caroline Bouvier Kennedy Schlossberg — is now in training to save lives, not as a physician as one might expect of a wealthy Kennedy heir, but rather as a first responder.

The Yale University sophomore, who turned 20 last month, is learning to become an emergency medical technician. It’s a noncredit course he’s taking along with his academic studies, fulfilling his desire to help the injured, ill and dying, as best he can. Jack sees this training as a way to give back to the New Haven community that he’s living in, and where there’s obviously a lot of issues [such as crime and poverty],” says his best friend at Yale.

Jack’s very aware of all the privileges and opportunities that come with his family, so his EMT training has a lot to do with the community-service aspect.”

🗞️: New York post, 2013.

I love this picture:

[psychospore]

A Second Chance

This has been sitting in my WIP pile for a while but I've finally finished writing this!

I do hope you enjoy the sequel to In Another Life inspired by @just-someone11 comment

Ok listen i knew it would be angst. I pushed back reading this knowing it would be angst but still :((((((. wonderfully written and if you find the inspiration maybe you could write Loki meeting y/n in the new life? Idk maybe as tom and yn.....oh oh oh or after Loki dies, so more reuniting in the afterlife

If you like more, check out my Masterlist

Summary: An alternate life brings you and Loki together, along with it is the realization that whatever timeline you may be - you are both connected to each other

Warnings: Angst, mentions of death, fluff, multiverse stuff,

You've always hated winter - maybe it's the numbing cold that you had to endure every time you have to go out or the fact that everything around you is devoid of color because of the accumulating snow.

This time around, you despised it because you had to walk home into the blizzard under heavy layers of clothing after covering an extra shift for your co-worker who caught the flu in this weather.

You buried your hands inside the fluffy pockets of your coat and hid your face under your scarf to shield you.

Loki and Thor ran through the snow-covered streets of New York chasing after the remaining HYDRA super soldier that stole a rune dagger made from the stinger of a creature from Jotunheim. The same creature in the stories guards the powerful orb. Both are directly connected to each other and have the ability to link the minds of the person's variants, accessing the past, present, and future of one's self in different multiverses. HYDRA was supposed to use the dagger to learn how to unlock this knowledge on Earth, as everything connected to it has been long lost in Asgard. The soldier was almost successful in getting away after fending off Thor and Loki by spreading nerve gas and creating chaos along the way.

────────────────────────

As you were lost in your thoughts, you noticed people around you starting to scramble and run away. You tried assessing the situation and noticed that a super soldier was headed in your direction. You made sure that the people were safe before stepping in and blocking the super soldier. He triggered an unpleasant piece of memory you tried to bury deep in your subconscious.

He ran straight at you, but you were able to use his momentum to throw him straight to the ground and drop an axe kick to his gut before punching him square in the face for good measure, knocking him senseless with a few broken bones.

Before starting your new life as an EMT in New York, you were secretly trained to become an assassin for years by your HYDRA captors after they discovered you were frozen in a lake in Antarctica. You exhibited great fighting skills, exceeding super soldiers even without using the serum, despite lacking any hint of memory prior to being captured. They tried experimenting on you way too many times to discover what you are or where you're from—the best they could come up with was that you were not from Earth.

You were staring down at the unconscious soldier beneath you when your scarf flew away. You scrambled to catch it, but someone got to it first. You looked at the person, and your heart pounded like a battering ram against your chest. You took the scarf and meekly said thanks, but your eyes were locked against each other.

For years, you were their best hit person, until one night you were tasked with dispatching the scientist who's been taking care of you since you arrived at the facility, as she was discovered to be a spy for SHIELD. In her dying breath, she urged you to discover who you truly were and not what HYDRA just wanted you to be. It made you run away to start a new life and be who you are now. Maybe in this new life, you could save lives instead of taking them away.

"Isn't that…" Thor whispered to Loki.

"Y/N?" Loki said as he looked at you intently, etching your very being in his mind.

"Oh no, I'm not y/n. You must have gotten the wrong person."

Nobody had ever called you y/n before but it felt like it always has when Loki says it. It felt like your name was y/n all this time, despite this being your first time hearing it. Was it even the first time?

You got lost in your thoughts when a familiar, searing heat ran through your back. Thor was quick to disarm the now-conscious soldier when he found out he used the rune dagger to stab you. Loki caught you in his arms before you started convulsing.

Memories of all of yourselves flashed before your eyes—what was, what is, and what will be all flashing before you, even your lost memory. You saw the timeline where both you and Loki died after you tried obtaining the orb by Odin's orders. You saw how you fought and defeated the creature in a different universe, with you dying before Loki could get to you and him dying in grief because of your death, encased in permafrost in Jotunheim.

There was also a brighter alternate reality where Loki was a famous actor going by the name of Tom, and there was you—a young scientist working at his grandfather's company. You caught his eye when he came there for a visit, and everything started when he invited you for a cup of coffee. You ended up marrying him and having a daughter together. It was perfect how you welcome him with a kiss every time he comes home from work and your daughter rushes to be carried in her father's arms.

You saw your own past in this universe before you arrived on Earth, Loki was about to confess his love for you when you arrived from one of your battles, and you were about to too, but Odin did not like that, so before you both could, he sent you away to obtain the orb in exchange for his blessing.

In this timeline, Loki thought you knew about his intention and you decided to run away, so he did not pursue you any further, but the reality was that, instead of facing the creature, Laufey found you first and fought against you. Your prowess and resilience made him admire you as a warrior. Instead of killing you, he ended up wiping all of your memory using the orb and banishing you to Midgard, where you were encased in permafrost, which HYDRA discovered.

It felt like forever processing everything all at once, but Loki held you tightly in his arms to protect you from hurting yourself as tears flooded your eyes. You passed out in his arms shortly after. One thing is for sure, in every timeline - you are connected to Loki by the red string of fate.

"What do you intend to do, brother, with the dagger and with her?" Thor asked, handing him the dagger and glancing at you.

Loki took the dagger and used his seidr to vanish it away. "We need to get to the bottom of this. But for now, I need to protect y/n, more than ever. I can't bear to lose her again, brother. We are bringing her to the tower for now; then we must head to Asgard." He spoke as he looked at you. He tucked in the stray hair covering your face behind your ears to take a closer look—you are indeed his y/n, the love of his life.

There are a million things running through his mind right now, but seeing you, he knew he had found a part of him that he tried to lock away when you were gone, a part that loved you and connected both of you against time, space, and all of the multiverse. He swore secretly to himself that he wouldn't lose you again—not in this timeline at least.

[alientitty]

everyone in new york take the MTA customer survey and say no we don't want more killer cops in our stations harassing people. use the tax money to run more trains and call someone useful like EMTs

[junoinouterspace]

what are naomi & juno like personality wise? do they have any hobbies?

I think I'll let @peach-moths answer about Naomi, seeing as she belongs to them and I trust them to describe her much better than I can.

However I can talk about Juno for hours :3c

Juno is reserved/socially awkward but still rather opinionated, whether it be due to her autism or her Catholic upbringing. She keeps to herself for the most part but can drop a mean diss when she wants to. Raised as an only child by a single mother in Washington Heights, NY, she is rather independent and tends to be more of a people pleaser with a need to be the very best at every thing she does. Growing up as an only child and a dissolution of marriage between her parents makes her dream of having a large happy family of her own some day.

Juno really loves medical science (mother is a nurse, father was an EMT/paramedic) and astrophysics! She also has a pet cat named Canelo, and she loves to rollerblade (she rollerblades to work when the weather is nice, and otherwise takes the train. She does not know how to drive.)

Juno is another unfortunate victim of the mutagen bombings in New York, having been mutated after her second year of college. She is a mutant borzoi! (Fun fact: borzois are my favorite breed of dog) She begins working at East-Laird Primary school the same year as Mikey, having turned down multiple offers from Naomi until she was absolutely desperate for an income after her position at the previous school she worked for became compromised due to her mutant status.

[angelodamiano]

Oh, is that ANGELO D'AMIANO? I heard the TWENTY-SIX year old is RESOURCEFUL. But don’t let that pretty face fool you, they are also ANXIOUS. Makes sense seeing how they are a DIRTY civilian allied with THE SERPENTS who works as a PARAMEDIC.

pinterest

full name: angelo dante d'amiano

nicknames: leo, doc, angel

faceclaim:  froy gutierrez

birthdate: june 21st

alliance: serpents/the founding families

gender: cis man

pronouns: he/him

occupation: paramedic (emt)

hometown: manhattan, new york.

sexual orientation: bisexual disaster

relationship status: single

height: 5"11

red and blue flashing lights, the burn in your eyes before tears well over, amaretto sour, a tremor in your hand that never quite goes away, biting your lip until it bleeds, the softest cashmere sweater you can imagine, the stillness of the world the moment you take the first step into fresh snow, a silver chain dangling from your lover's neck against your chest, overlapping chatter in italian, espresso and a cigarette for breakfast on the fire escape, the stinging bite of stitches, someone falling asleep on your shoulder on a long car ride.

(tldr angelo is a bastard d'amiano who is basically carmy from the bear. youngestish sibling baby vibes, my man has an anxiety disorder FAMILIA, he can't do organized crime! but then he works as an emt because he can only thrive if he's constantly anxious ✨ is trying to stay out of The Life but can't stop giving free under the table medical care 😭 )

leo had childhood cancer and still needs an inhaler. perfectly healthy now but this lead to him needing extra care and coddling when he was small. people never really expected much from little angelo, he just needed to focus on getting better. because of being in and out of hospital he deals with a pretty minor case of contamination ocd that he's worked on since he was a teenager.

mama and papa d'amiano had a fairytale italia love story from his perspective, slow dancing to dean martin after dinner and making the kids gag. this was before they found out that angelo was their half-sibling, a result of infidelity and shattered the illusion.

doesn't talk about his parents at all, can't because he instantly chokes up.

leo had brains, that much was clear to see as he started running with the family business he showed a quick mind for logistics, details and solving problems in a pinch, he could macgyver their way through most situations. earning slaps on the back as he earned respect for his actions not just his blood.

though, he mostly remembers this as gi describes it back to him.

as he rode the adrenaline down from a job well done he'd spiral into anxiety attacks that made him sick and eventually start blacking out with their intensity. his heart would race, hands, knees shaking but instead of gasping loudly for air he'd withdraw to some place far inside and go deathly silent. as the world caved in around him and his pulse roared in his ears and the static overtook his vision, he wondered how long he could keep going like this.

someone very important in his life [wanted connection] talked him around to mostly leaving the life behind, worried he was going to get seriously sick from the stress. he tried to go into a less practical more academia-focused field but the quiet nearly drove him insane. he had tried to abruptly draw himself out of the never ending bustle of that life but learned quickly that he had no idea who he was without it. the stress is why he liked it so much.

leo is a classically trained pianist who got into juilliard but realized that performing live would put his life and his family in unnecessary danger so quietly declined. teaches ice skating at the weekends in a nearby rink, as he used to play hockey as a teenager.

angelo attempted to join the army medics but his asthma discounted him from active duty. changed gears into pre-med but once again after four years the stress was nearly overwhelming. leo now rides manhattan's streets and area hospitals in an ambulance: as long as other people were panicking or needing him he could remain totally calm. has a surprisingly incredible bedside manner for someone known to be sarcastic as hell and highly strung.

very often gets pulled into doing emergency surgery in the back of a truck with nothing but a hello kitty flashlight in his mouth and a dream. okay, the serpents mostly make it to facilities but things happen. won't tell his family but he pretty much patches up anyone if he stumbles across them in need. is mostly 'out' of the game but really he's always got one toe over the line back in.

doesn't know how to cook for himself and never will. think of robert pattinson microwaving tin foil pasta. is it wilful incompetence? or is he just that kind of rich kid? he's italian enough to know what good food tastes like. i guess we'll never know. likes to throw himself dramatically over furniture like an 1800s novel heroine and sigh pathetically until someone brings him coffee in the morning. doesn't know how to drive, obviously.

angelo has never worn a matching pair of socks in his entire life and can fall asleep anywhere. always cold, probably wearing a scarf rn. doesn't take care of himself properly, 'wdym gi? i know tons of people who cry every day'.

lives in a shitty little apartment in brooklyn, the price of trying to remain self-sufficient with his nose clean. has insomnia and works way too much, hates being alone in his apartment even though he wanted independence so badly?

self-conscious and prideful in equal measure, a little sheltered and naive in ways but also speaks five languages fluently. can be spiky, cranky with a sharp tongue to hide his anxiety and a bit of a cry-baby brat to be honest. craves and hates attention at the same time.

[dynamic-power]

The Happiness We Deserve

Chapter 6

Read it here on ao3

Rated E

Words: 2.3k (10.5k total)

CW: mention of past abuse

Ian comes by for drinks

Start from the beginning here

“Hi, Mickey.” 

Mickey stepped aside and waved Ian into his apartment. “Hey.”

Ian held up a six pack of Old Style with a grin. “Like old times, yeah?”

Mickey laughed and took the beers, shutting his front door and moving past Ian to head towards his kitchen. “Old times?” Mickey asked as he opened his fridge and added the six bottles to the other half dozen already filling his top shelf. He pulled out two of the older ones and kicked the fridge shut. “This is every Wednesday night for me.”

Ian hummed. “Doug’s got me drinking fancy shit,” he said as Mickey popped the caps off both bottles in quick succession. He took one, taking a long pull. 

“Sorry, I should have asked-” Mickey realized belatedly. 

Ian waved him off, understanding immediately what Mickey was talking about. “It’s fine. All things in moderation, and all that shit. I’ve been on my current shit for years now. I’m still a lightweight, but alcohol doesn’t screw with anything anymore.”

“Right,” Mickey said, taking a sip of his own beer. “Well come on, I wanna hear about the shit you get up to in New York.”

They settled on either end of Mickey’s couch. Mickey laughed as Ian toed off his shoes and folded his tall frame so he could sit sideways, back to the armrest and feet shoved between the couch cushions. Mickey propped his feet on his coffee table and marveled at the surreal feeling of it all. Being around Ian made sense to him, and being here in his own home made sense, too, but something about the two things coming together, having a friend from his youth in the space he’d made his as an adult, was a little odd. 

“Right. Well. How much have you already been told?” Ian asked, shifting in his seat and settling his bright gaze on Mickey. 

“Nothing. I showed up on your brother’s doorstep a few years ago and he said you’d gone. Then, you showed up again. Haven’t heard anything other than that.”

“Right,” Ian said, sighing and scratching at his jaw. “Well. You went to prison. And I was…” he trailed off for a moment. Mickey recognized that Ian was nervous as he dug his toes into the couch and squirmed and looked away from Mickey again. 

“You don’t have to tell me any shit you don’t wanna,” Mickey said. “Life’s been rough, and I get that. I just wanna know how you’ve been, man.”

Ian smiled, but it didn’t meet his eyes. “I know. I know, I just- I feel like I owe you an explanation. Or some shit like that.”

“You don’t owe me anything.”

“I know.” Ian paused again and took a few more sips of his beer before leaning over to set his bottle on the coffee table. “But I want to tell you. I wasn’t in a good place. You know that. I was sick. I got real low, Mick, but eventually the meds started to pick me up again. At least enough that I felt like I could reach out the way I needed to. In the middle of all of that, I ended up saving someone in an accident and made friends with some firefighters, and was encouraged to become an EMT. To be perfectly honest, there isn’t much I remember about the time between you getting locked up and me winding up in EMT training. My brain still has a lot of that on lock down.” He chuckles but there isn’t much humor in the sound. 

“Yeah, makes sense,” Mickey says, because it does. There’s plenty his own brain still hasn’t been able to completely unpack from his own past. “What led you to New York?”

“Well, I started working as an EMT here in Chicago. Did it for, fuck, two years, I think?” Ian rubs at his jaw again. “Loved it. Still do, ya know? Wouldn’t be doing it otherwise. At first, I thought the whole bipolar diagnosis was going to get in the way, but my boss, she, uh, vouched for me. Ensured that I could keep my job. I owe her everything, really. 

“Anyway, couple years driving around Chicago, and I was desperate for something new. So I just- I left. I packed my shit in a couple bags and took what little savings I had and took off. Hopped on a plane to California.”

“California?”

“Not the good parts, not like Mandy,” Ian said with a grin. “The ticket I could reasonably afford landed me in Sacramento. Middle of California. Too far north for good beaches, too far south for real mountain views.” Ian reaches for his beer again, taking another few swallows. “I kinda miss it, actually. I ended up in this shitty little studio apartment on the north side of the city. North doesn’t mean nice out there. It was like living southside all over again. I got a job as an EMT, thanks again to my boss in Chicago, and was encouraged by my team out there to train as a paramedic.

“I stayed there for six years. Moved around a little. By the end, I was renting this nice little house in the suburbs. It wasn’t perfect, exactly. Even when my meds are as balanced as they can be, I still have highs and lows. I think I experienced my worst high while I was there. Apparently, I have a thing for stealing vehicles. Ended up manic, stole an ambulance. I was halfway to Fresno before I gave myself up. I’m actually kinda surprised you guys didn’t hear about that all the way over here; it was a pretty big deal in Cali. Paramedic loses his shit, goes nuts, all that crap. Ended up doing time in another facility. They wanted to keep me for 72 hours, but I ended up staying nearly two weeks. Mostly ‘cause the mania was settled, I slipped in the other direction. Went real low again. When I was released, I was sacked from my job. Not a surprise, really, but a real blow anyway. Two weeks later, I was packing my shit again. 

“See, I’ve got this friend, Crystal. I met her in group therapy not long after I got to Cali, and she and I became friends pretty quickly. She’s like me. So she gets it. She’s been my support for the last… fuck, ten years? She was there for me when I got out. But she’d been planning on moving. I’d thought about going with her, but me losing my job was the real nail in the coffin. Or, not really a coffin, actually, ‘cause going with her was a great idea. We left three weeks after I got out. Landed in a shared apartment in Brooklyn. That’s where I still live. Crystal has gotten married since then, so she lives with her husband in Jersey, but I’m still in New York.”

Mickey listened and sipped his beer as Ian talked, taking in every detail that he could. When Ian finished, he settled back again, reaching out with one of his feet to poke at Mickey’s thigh. 

“What about you?”

“Did time,” Mickey grunted, still trying to imagine Ian and his pale ass living anywhere in California. “Got out. Ended up in contact with your family again.”

“Seems like more than just ‘in contact’,” Ian said with a grin. “My nieces and nephews have no clue who I am and call you Uncle Mick.”

“S’what happens when you fuck off,” Mickey said, hoping to come across teasing rather than accusing. He was successful, if Ian’s chuckle meant anything. “Yeah, okay, so maybe your family and I are pretty close. I showed up on Lip’s doorstep and he took me in.”

“Like a stray cat.”

“You gonna interrupt me every other word, or can I tell you my story?”

Ian continued to smile around the mouth of his bottle. 

“Right. Landed on his porch.” He doesn’t mention why he’d been there in the first place, but then he doesn’t think he really needs to. “He invited me in. And then invited me back. About six months later, V and Kev mentioned wantin’ t’sell the bar and move. Carl was between jobs, and I was working security, so we did some talkin’. We ended up buying it from them for way less than it was worth. The rest is fuckin’ history, I guess.”

“I’m glad,” Ian said when Mickey paused for more than a few seconds, “that you went to the house. I know Lip is, too. You two seem close.”

“We are,” Mickey said. “Carl and I are, too, of course, but. I dunno. Lip’s a good friend.”

“So what about Jay, then?”

“What about Jay?”

Ian picked at the corner of the label on his bottle. “How’d you meet him? Are you happy with him? Are you-” Ian paused, twisting the bottle around in his hands. “Sorry, unless that’s too- I don’t know. I don’t know what’s normal in this situation, I guess.”

“When have we ever been normal?”

“We were for a little while. Hidden, maybe, but we were a proper couple for a while.”

Mickey watched as Ian’s cheeks turned red. Neither of them said anything for a few moments; Mickey was staring hard at Ian and Ian was watching anything but Mickey. 

“Want another beer?”

“Please,” Ian rushed out. “Sorry.”

“You gotta stop saying that, man,” Mickey said as he stood and plucked the empty bottle from Ian’s fidgeting hands. “This is weird, we can agree on that. And occasionally, one of us is gonna say something that’s fuckin’ awkward. You can’t apologize every time it happens or we aren’t gonna get anywhere.” 

He wandered into the kitchen, putting the two bottles by the sink. He leaned against the countertop for a moment, taking in a few deep breaths. This was proving to be just about as strange as he thought it was going to be. He was really glad they were hashing this out now and not around their boyfriends. There was only so much discomfort he could take. 

Two fresh beers in hand, he went back to the front room where Ian was still sitting on the couch, face flushed a light pink as he picked at the corner of a cushion. He glanced up when Mickey came back in, muttering a quick thanks when Mickey sat again and passed him the cold beer. 

“So,” Mickey said, tipping his head back against the couch, “Jay. Yeah, he’s, uh, he’s a good guy. Like I said, the guy wandered into the Alibi about six months ago. He’d been drownin’ in the rain while waiting for an Uber. One of our regulars invited him in. Sat at my bar, we got to talking, and, yeah.”

“He seems nice.”

“And normal as fuck.” Mickey doesn’t even realize he’s said it out loud until Ian laughs, long and loud. “Fuck. I just mean-” Mickey said, trying to not sound like the world’s worst boyfriend, “I mean that, compared to other partners I’ve had, he’s pretty normal. Like, he’s got a job in finance. He lives in a house on the northside.”

“Spend a lot of time there?”

“Nah. He mostly comes here. I dunno, it’s weird up there. The life he lived as a kid was really- I dunno.”

“There’s a lot you seem to not know,” Ian pointed out. 

“It’s a different world, y’know? It’s great, don’t get me wrong, but not for me. I don’t fit up there.”

Ian hummed. “Yeah, I do know. He doesn’t seem to mind.”

Mickey snorted and shook his head. “No, he just keeps his trap shut.” Mickey knew Jay wasn’t always comfortable in his world. Of course he knew; it was hard to ignore the way Jay tiptoed around the Gallagher home, or constantly looked to Mickey for reassurance when they were out on the southside. He was trying, though, so Mickey couldn’t really fault him. 

“Doug doesn’t,” Ian grumbled. He stared down at his lap and picked at the fresh label in his hands. “He’s been pretty vocal about what he thinks of this part of Chicago.”

“Not his favorite place?”

Ian laughed. “Not at all. I warned him. We live a very different life in New York than I ever did here. But he still insisted. He’s here for another shoot, and I figured… But now I’m wondering if it wasn’t a good idea.” Ian rubbed his hand against his face nervously. “He’s a good guy. Really, he is. I know it hasn’t really seemed like it, but when it’s just him and me, he’s different. Sweet.”

Mickey had heard that before. Teenaged Mandy was the first person to come to mind; claiming that a guy was good, was different around her, a few days before she would mysteriously gain a new bruise. He always felt like he could call her boyfriends out, though; she was his sister, had been so young, and it was his place to protect her, even from the scum that she brought around. 

But he wasn’t sure if that was his place with Ian, not anymore. Besides, he didn’t know nearly as much about his relationship with Doug. He’d seen them interact once. 

So instead, he admitted, “I’m glad you made the trip.”

“Yeah?” Ian asked, perking up. 

“Yeah.”

A comfortable silence fell over them for a few blissful minutes before Ian cleared his throat. Once again, he was looking around the room and not at Mickey. 

“I’m sorry,” he said again, “for the way we left things. I know-”

“We don’t have to have that conversation.”

“I know, but-”

“Fucks sake, Gallagher. Alright. But I am way too sober for this. Do you still smoke weed?”

Ian offered him a small smile. “Gotta bong?”

[tragedyswept]

~ ɪ'ʟʟ ꜰᴏʟʟᴏᴡ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏᴡɴ, ᴅᴏᴡɴ, ᴅᴏᴡɴ, ᴀɴʏᴡʜᴇʀᴇ, ᴀɴʏᴡʜᴇʀᴇ .

NAME: Alina Aleksandra Eriksen.

AGE: Twenty-eight.

GENDER & PRONOUNS: Cis Woman, She/Her

FACE CLAIM: Florence Pugh.

EYE COLOR: Brown.

HAIR COLOR: Brownish blonde.

HEIGHT: 5'2"

DATE OF BIRTH: March 1st, 1996.

ZODIAC SIGN: Aries.

LEVEL OF EDUCATION: High school diploma.

RELIGIOUS AFFILIATION: None

OCCUPATION: Bartender at the Black Rabbit.

GANG AFFILIATION: Unaffiliated for the moment.

HOMETOWN: Oslo, Norway.

POSITIVE TRAITS: Passionate and resilient.

NEGATIVE TRAITS: Impulsive and chaotic.

~ 𝙔𝙊𝙐 𝙂𝙊𝙏 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙒𝙊𝙍𝙇𝘿, 𝘽𝙐𝙏 𝘽𝘼𝘽𝙔, 𝘼𝙏 𝙒𝙃𝘼𝙏 𝙋𝙍𝙄𝘾𝙀?

tldr is my baby girl is damaged, big time, big emo vibes here.

tw: drug overdose, violence, death, cancer, sad times omg

alina is twenty-eight, been in tonpah for three months, is a bartender at the black rabbit and is currently unaffiliated, but baby that can change.

alina grew up as the only girl and youngest in the eriksen household in oslo, norway. she did love her hometown, from the beginning, she wanted more out of it and the life of strict obedience and emotional, physical training of the eriksens was something she never wanted.

her father and her butted heads at every turn, alina was supposed to be a strong, poised, put together young woman in her prime, to fight off anyone who would do harm to the eriksen family. unlike her brother, she wasn't made for the life her parents, mainly her father wanted.

she wanted to live, sneak out, have fun, and for this, she was punished mercilessly and often the black sheep of the eriksen clan. the only ally she felt she had was her older brother, who was also her best friend in the entire world. she could trust and tell him anything - she was also fiercely protective of him.

alina was only fifteen years old when her life turned upside down. she was used to the mob, used to the business deals, but already at fifteen, alina had made a name for herself for sneaking out, drugs, partying, much to her parents' chagrin. it was the night of her brother's supposed wedding - and it turned ugly - a night of pure despair and violence.

before she knew what hit her, her parents were seized by a coup, a family that wanted to take over and kill the eriksen clan - and they did just that. they killed her mother and father, right in front of her, at mere fifteen years old. the horrors, their screams, her father telling her in russian to look away, to be strong, be brave before he was murdered - it still plays in her head again and again, gives her nightmares. she could remember her own screams, feeling foreign.

she was dragged away from her brother, about to suffer the same fate when she was grabbed and saved at the last moment by her father's best friend, vince, and his wife, greta. they were an older couple, unable to have kids, and vince took it upon himself to care for the lone eriksen.

they fled to new york city, in the states, knowing that they couldn't risk her capture and alina was horrified, overwhelmed, broken apart. she had lost her entire family in one night - and could never see them again.

vince and greta took great care of her though, as if she were their own, and while she loved them deeply, she delved deeper into her darkness in new york.

she barely graduated high school, deep into her own drug addiction, frequenting bars on the lower east side, to party, get into her own trouble, anything to numb the pain. one thing did help: a boy.

meeting peter, her opposite in every way was a turning point. he was studying to become a doctor, a resident, and a shy, kind boy and she was chaos in every which way, a mess. the two of them fell into a toxic kind of love, riddled with drugs mostly, and he would steal from the hospital he worked in to get them.

darkness wrapped its arms around her even more when they both overdosed on her twenty sixth birthday - and she can still remember the emts working on her, when she begged them to work on peter.

she feels utmost guilt that they took her to the hospital, pumped her stomach and she regained consciousness, whereas peter never did and died. she feels responsible, like her own darkness killed him and it's another death she has to deal with, a horror that never fades. vince and greta got alina into rehab, that lasted, on and off, for about two years.

it wasn't until vince, her surrogate father, fell ill with cancer just nearly five months ago that it made her seriously get her act together - somewhat. vince, on his deathbed, finally informed her where her brother was - tonopah valley and how she could go to him now that he could no longer protect her.

alina was heartbroken at vince's death, but grateful to him and knew that a new life, a new beginning could make things better for her.

in tonopah valley for only three months now, reuniting with her brother, works as a bartender at the black rabbit, goes to NA and AA meetings, but not very sober, on and off, secretly.

[findopulencerp]

                                    𝖒𝖆𝖍𝖆𝖑𝖎𝖓𝖆 '𝖍𝖆𝖑' 𝖊𝖎𝖘𝖊𝖓

she was born 𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲-𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫 years ago, she is a 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐰𝐨𝐥𝐟 who lives in 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐲 in the 𝐦𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐲 𝐝𝐞𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐫𝐭, and is in 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐤𝐢 𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐚. she looks an awful lot like 𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐝.

“At the center of your being you have the answer; you know who you are and you know what you want.”

The Buwan Pack is where Mahalina’s story begins. A multigenerational werewolf pack that stemmed from the Philippines had been a prominent force on the Eastern Hemisphere since the 1800s. Through migration and the passing of time, they have become a multifaceted organization throughout the globe over many centuries. Partnering with various supernatural creatures, to challenge the natural order of things, making it safer for werewolves to integrate in like-minded communities throughout the world. That had been the course of action and mission for their growing, multicultural and blended family through decades past. 

Within the last five decades, the headquarters for the Buwan Pack was moved to New York City. A thriving place with millions of people filtering through annually. It was safe grounds and territory, to build and maintain their power and reach amongst the werewolf network. Only two decades ago did Mahalina’s mother, Amihan, become the alpha of the Buwans. The heiress and first female in the legacy of the familial line to assert herself into this position. It was initially outstanding. However, over time, the power, fame, and notoriety began to converge, shaping the movement of the pack differently. Instead of being inclusive, it was shifting to an exclusive, premier, and self-righteous cult in Hal’s  eyes. 

From the moment she was born, Mahalina was a prized possession of her mother’s collection of fine and precious tokens. The only child to her mother and father, David Eisen, Hal’s entire world was curated and fixed to her mother’s liking. Projecting all her own wishes and desires upon her daughter, she was training and preparing the young werewolf-to-be to carry on the family legacy. The way in which her mother was now course-correcting for her own ambitions. However, despite all of that, Mahalina was still able to break away from the mold thanks to her father. He’d always encouraged her to explore her own interests and hobbies, being the peacekeeper between Hal and her mother progressively over the years. Albeit, a co-conspirator of her mother’s action, David had been an omega in his early twenties after getting attacked while on a hike during a full moon. He was subservient at best, one who had fallen into the trap of his mother’s luring charisma, personality, and propaganda.

However, Hal could see through her mother’s facade in her preteen years. It’s why when she had begun shifting, she did her best to keep the matters private. The last thing she wanted was her mother to pick-up on it and keep her on a leash to control her behaviors and movements. Yet, the best of her intentions, landed her in the most terrifying predicament. She bit someone. This stupid boy from her school who she had been warding off any and all advances to keep him at bay. Yes, she had her fair share of friends and was the social butterfly of their school community, but Mahalina knew that she was just a member of the few wolves who were blending in with these humans. A full moon shift that she was running late too had landed her in the predicament of unintentionally biting this kid. Warning him days later that he had to flee, she mentioned the town of Opulence, a place she heard circulating around in her mother’s office more recently. 

Since then, she’s been trying her best to keep her wolf at bay. Aggressive and dominating in nature, Mahalina has led a life to counteract the beast within that she’s still trying to hone. A role of servitude and becoming a nurse and working as an EMT in New York had helped her process her own guilt and actions years later. However, with her mother’s continued tightened grip on wanting to spread her narrative, Hal finally decided to part ways. Alluding to the fact that she would travel around the country to bring in recruits, she secretly has fled for her own sanity and protection from the Buwan pack in hopes to find a new pace of life for herself. At first, with no true location to go, the thought of Opulence had circled back in her mind. She’s not sure how much of a safe haven this place truly can be, but she’s hoping that she can rewrite her narrative on being a Buwan and an Eisen on her own.

“what power did she attain when settling in opulence?”

The power to intuitively sense and adopt emotions/energy of others. On the spectrum of emotional intelligence. Has always been an empathetic individual, but since being in Opulence, it has heightened immensely. Mahalina has the ability to spontaneously adapt to other's emotions, physical sensations, and psychological perspectives in their bodies. Can be both advantageous and disadvantageous.

this character is…retired

[girlactionfigure]

Daniel Lewin and Mohammad Hamdani were two 9/11 heroes with very different stories.

Known as Danny by his friends, Lewin was the first person to die in the terrorist attacks, sixteen years ago today.

Danny was a passenger on American Airlines Flight 11 and an Israeli-American veteran of an elite IDF combat unit. He was trained in counter-terrorism and spoke fluent Arabic.

Investigators pieced together that Danny heard the terrorists plotting in Arabic and tried to stop the hijacking. He was stabbed to death by Saudi law student Satam al-Suqami.

Born and raised in Denver, Colorado, Danny emigrated to Israel with his family as a teenager. As a newcomer, he could have skipped his military service, but chose instead to serve and work his way up to the toughest unit in the IDF. He later became a successful internet entrepreneur.

Only 31 when he died, Danny had already made his mark on the world.

Mohammad Hamdani was a first responder who died at the World Trade Center on 9/11.

Mohammad immigrated with his family from Pakistan when he was a year old and grew up in Queens, NY. He played football for Bayside High. Hard-working and ambitious, Mohammad became an EMT and then a police cadet. He also applied to medical school, and in September 2001 he was waiting to hear if he’d been accepted. 

On the morning of 9/11, Mohammad was taking an elevated subway on his way to work when he saw smoke coming from the twin towers. He got off the train and rushed to the World Trade Center to help. Mohammad was never seen alive again. He was only 23 years old.

At first Mohammad was listed as missing. Because of his Muslim background and lack of connection to the World Trade Center, he came under suspicion of being involved in the attack. The cloud over his name did not lift until his remains were found at Ground Zero in October 2001, along with his medical bag and ID. 

Mohammad Hamdani was buried with full honors from the the New York Police Department, and proclaimed a hero by the city’s police commissioner. He is mentioned in the Patriot Act as an example of Muslim-American valor on 9/11. 

May the memories of these two righteous young men always be for a blessing.

Accidental Talmudist

[emergencycareny]

Keeping Skills Sharp with EMT Refresher Training

Emergency Medical Technicians (EMTs) play a critical role in saving lives during emergencies. However, maintaining the necessary skills and knowledge requires regular updates. Refresher courses are an essential part of ensuring EMTs remain effective and compliant with the latest protocols and standards. This guide highlights the importance of refresher training and the courses available for EMTs.

The Benefits of an EMT B Refresher Course

An EMT B refresher course is ideal for EMTs who wish to update their skills and stay current with evolving practices in emergency medical care. These courses cover essential topics such as patient assessment, advanced airway management, and trauma response. They also include practical training to reinforce critical skills.

Understanding the EMT Refresher Class

An EMT refresher class is designed to review foundational knowledge and introduce updates to protocols. EMTs enrolled in these classes can expect to revisit key concepts like CPR techniques, medical ethics, and emergency scene management. The classes provide an opportunity for EMTs to refresh their confidence and competence in the field.

Why Take an EMT-B Refresher Course?

An EMT-B refresher course focuses on the critical aspects of basic EMT training while introducing updates based on the latest medical advancements and guidelines. These courses are particularly useful for professionals who have taken a break from active practice and wish to return fully prepared to the workforce.

Meeting State Requirements with the NYS EMT Refresher Course

The NYS EMT refresher course ensures that EMTs in New York State meet state-specific requirements for certification renewal. It includes tailored content to align with regional regulations and practices, making it a must for professionals working in the area.

Enhancing Skills with a Refresher Course EMT

Completing a refresher course EMT program is a proactive step for professionals who want to ensure they remain proficient and up to date in their field. These courses provide a thorough review of skills and knowledge while incorporating modern techniques to handle emergencies effectively.

[cringefish666]

Red

Red isn’t the name of a color, it’s mine.

That’s what I told myself, anyway, as I walked through the gates. The courtyard was yellow, as always, and the muffled thwacking of tennis rackets whipping back and forth echoed somewhere to the left. Someone was losing—his breath was hot and gasping, like the last cries of a dying man in the chokehold of his killer. I wished him luck.

My love sat at a garden table, wearing a teacup dress with white frills. She smiled, pink and perfect, as I walked up to her, setting her teacup down and brushing white-gloved fingers over her cheek.

“Sit, my beauty,” she said, gesturing to the white-iron chair across from her. I sat. The tennis rackets slapped at each other behind my back.

“What a beautiful day,” my love sighed. “A pity you couldn’t join me sooner—the hummingbirds were out, before. Now they’ve all run away.” She sipped her tea. I waited.

“I need something from you, love,” she said. “A man.” I nodded. She pulled a slip of paper from a little jewled clutch, held it between two silken fingers. The tip of my smallest finger brushed her glove as I took it.

Matthew Chordett. New York. Sunset. I looked to her.

“A man,” she said. “Will you think on it, darling?”

I nodded. I thought on it. Chordett. York. Matthew. Matt. Apartment 3. Sunset. Train. Hospital. Nurse. I dug into the soil near him. Sewage and rats. Nicotine capsules. I connected to his web. Wife, son, work, death. He was an EMT before he was a nurse. He used to think trains could fly. Sunset came while he rode home, thinking about movie night. I pulled the web.

A new game of tennis began behind me. The other had gone quiet some time ago. My love closed her eyes, relaxed and smiling.

“Thank you, darling. You may go.”

I rose, and I left the garden. A splash of red pooled around a hedge to my right, seeping into my path. I bent down. I placed my fingers on the boundary, the place where the red grazed the golden path. The red oozed, darkened. It crawled over my fingers, sticky and lukewarm.

The yellow, the white—those belonged to my love. The shiny outsides, all hers. What was red, though—what was red was mine.

[sorcadh]

Kiki Smith

Untitled 1987-90

In Smith’s long-standing engagement with the body, she has often addressed issues of sexuality, feminism, and mortality. This work is composed of glass water-cooler bottles coated with silver and etched with the names of twelve bodily fluids: tears, urine, milk, blood, saliva, vomit, sperm, etc. Drawn from the theology of Smith’s Catholic faith, the fluids constitute the sacramental body. The German Gothic lettering on the bottles is a reference to a medieval book of hours, a Christian prayer book. According to the artist, “I was very influenced by the lives of the saints when I was a kid—you have a body with attributes and artifacts evoked by a sort of magic.”

Kiki Smith; Untitled; 1990; paper and wood; 20 x 18 x 18 inches; Museum of Fine Arts, Boston

Kiki Smith; Untitled; 1995; paper,methyl cellulose and horse hair; 53 x 18 x 50 inches

Kiki Smith; Rapture; 2001; bronze

Kiki Smith; Born; 2002; bronze; 39 x 101 x 24 inches

Kiki Smith; Tale; 1992; wax, pigment, paper maché; 160 x 23 x 23 inches

Kiki Smith; Pupet; 2000; nepal paper, muslin, glass, 54 inches high

Kiki Smith

Untitled  1990

Since the 1980s, much of Kiki Smith’s work has focused on the human body—probing it, distorting it, fragmenting it, and making visible what is usually imperceptible or private. “I use the body because it is our primary vehicle for experiencing our lives,” she has explained. “It’s something everyone shares.” Smith once spent three months training to be an emergency medical technician, studying medical texts and cadavers, and her hand-wrought sculptures convey an obsessive attention to anatomical detail. Untitled is one of Smith’s earliest forays into large-scale sculpture using wax, a medium that would occupy her for years. Two figures, one male and one female, hang limply from adjacent poles; milk drips from the woman’s breasts and semen runs down the man’s legs. Although these are life-giving secretions, both figures appear suspended in a state near death, their heads bowed languidly. Layers of red-tinted wax suggest the permeability and vulnerability of human flesh and internal organs. 

Untitled (Butterfly). , 1994

Kiki Smith was born in Nuremburg, Germany in 1954. 

Her interest in bodily parts manifested itself as early as 1979, and by 1985 she was certified as an Emergency Medical Technician. The experience of training to be an EMT reinforced her interest in the body: "It is physically very beautiful to look at the exposure of the insides and outsides at the same time."5 By the mid '80s, her underground reputation for creating strange, quirky drawings, prints, and sculptures that focused on bodily fluids, secretions, systems, and parts began to surface. Smith's first major New York gallery show at Fawbush Gallery in 1988 won her great acclaim and launched her national and international reputation. 

Smith's approach to her subject matter is poetic, emotive, and frequently melancholy. Her large crystal sperms (made of glass) are objects of beauty; her paper sculptures, mostly figures of women, hang delicately and often mournfully from ceilings.6 Her images--of the womb, the digestive tract, the nervous system, hair (for example the lithograph, Untitled, 1990, AMAM inv. 91.27)--project humor as well as pathos. Around 1990, Smith began to create lifesize figures in bronze or colored wax. Mostly female, these figures are haunting in their sense of loss: leaking milk or sperm, trailing blood or feces, bent on their knees, with an external spine or slashed skin that exposes red-tinted flesh beneath.

Smith's choice of materials is distinctive and integral to the object's effect on the viewer. She works on paper and with cast glass, bronze, plaster, terra cotta, papier mâché, cloth, and other media, and frequently adds embroidery, weaving, and inks to her works. Prints, which she began making in 1989, as well as installations, are also central to her creative production.

untitled, 1996

CC I know that you have also done death masks. Do you feel different casting live people than when you do the death masks?

KS I like dead people better. Casting is problematic, it’s like playing freeze tag, you cast people in all these different positions and they’re frozen. The wax museums didn’t make casts of people, they made sculptures of them. Casting, like photography, is a single moment. Whereas if you sculpt people’s faces, it’s a more generalized version of the person, but in a certain sense more accurate than one specific second of them. When you cast people, it makes a kind of stiffness, and unless you really fuck around with the cast, there’s something dead about it, especially when you go from the cast into metal. Bronze is dead material, so you have to have some kind of texture to make it live. Whereas the translucency of the wax is like skin so it makes them live, you don’t have to have any surface stuff. In any case, dead people are just dead, you don’t have to make them look alive. (laughter)

Virgin Mary, 1993

Kiki Smith (born January 18, 1954) is a West German-born American artist whose work has addressed the themes of sex, birth and regeneration. Her figurative work of the late 1980s and early 1990s confronted subjects such as AIDS and gender, while recent works have depicted the human condition in relationship to nature. Smith lives and works in the Lower East Side neighborhood of New York City.

Prompted by her father's death in 1980 and by the AIDS death of her sister, the underground actress, Beatrice “Bebe” Smith in 1988, Smith began an ambitious investigation of mortality and the physicality of the human body. She has gone on to create works that explore a wide range of human organs; including sculptures of hearts, lungs, stomach, liver and spleen. Related to this was her work exploring bodily fluids, which also had social significance as responses to the AIDS crisis (blood) and women's rights (urine, menstrual blood, feces).

Kiki Smith, Untitled (Roses), 1993-94

Born in Germany, American sculptor and print maker Kiki Smith (born 1954) attended Hartford Art School, Connecticut. Influenced by a generation of female artists including Louise Bourgeois, Eva Hesse and Lee Bontecou, Smith uses paper, fabric, ceramics and glass to create figurative sculptural works which mediate the separations between the psychological and physical nature of the body. Smith has exhibited in America and Europe since the 1980s. 

Peacock 1994

Combining sculpture and print, ‘Peacock’ is a papier mâché sculpture of a crouched female, hugging her knees in a self-protective pose. The woman’s head is slightly cocked as she ponders the prints of female genitalia, which are fanned out on the wall like a peacock’s tail. The prints are physically linked to her body by 28 umbilical-like threads of paper, making direct reference to the female reproductive cycle. In Smith’s print work, the visceral is often counterbalanced by an impulse toward the refined and the decorative, seen here in the use of fine handmade paper and in the delicate lines of the drawn jewelry which adorns the figure.