#First Aid And Emergency Life Support | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

fiber-optic-alligator · 1 year ago

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Hello! I’ve always been curious about the “human in a space shuttle somehow ends up on a cybertronian ship and all the bots are trying to figure out what this random metal this is while the human is terrified” plot.

It would be interesting to see it played out with any character, but for the sake of direction, I’d like to request this with the Lost Light Crew?

It could be vore if that’s what you feel like wrong at the time, but I’d also go for some good ‘ol fearplay.

I apologize if this is too vague, have a good day/night and I love your writing!

Thank you for the request Glitch! I hope this is up to your expectations! I hope you don't mind that I picked specific members of the Lost Light crew to include in this story. Feedback is always appreciated! Have a great day/night as well! :D

Doctor’s (And Scientist’s) Orders

Pairing: IDW Ratchet, IDW Perceptor, and IDW First Aid x Human Reader

Word Count: 3115

Summary: You are a teacher who is being sent from Earth to a colony on Mars. A new life as an educator for the red planet’s children is on your horizon…until you are thrown terribly off course and end up in the bowels of the Lost Light. All seems lost for you when you find yourself injured and cut off from human society, at the mercy of the three Cybertronians who end up finding you and taking you in, whether you want them to or not.

The first thing you hear when you come to is the horrid screeching of your ship's alarms.

You groan and sit up. Smoke and flickering emergency lights greet you when you open your eyes. Electricity sparks from the stasis tank you were asleep in. Gas spurts from the ceiling, and everything is strewn about with the chaotic air of a tornado that just tore through an entire town.

“Warning,” your ship’s AI urgently alerts. “Breach detected. Damage is collateral. Warning-warning-” It sputters and fizzles out.

You rub the back of your head and feel something warm and sticky coat your palm. When you pull your hand back to take a closer look, you see blood.

Shit. That’s not good.

Standing up makes you feel like you are going to puke. Your head throbs and every breath you take sends piercing pain through your chest. Dragging yourself out of the stasis pod takes longer than it should while black spots dot your vision as you stumble to the dashboard and press your hands against it. “Run ship diagnostics,” you manage to rasp. The voice that struggles to exit your mouth is one you hardly recognize. It is thin and strewn with violent coughs. A metallic taste coats your tongue. More blood.

The AI glitches as it attempts to answer you. “Severe damage to hull. Severe damage to engines. Severe damage to thrusters. Life support online, but rapidly depleting. Escape pod offline.”

“Shit,” you breathe. “Try contacting Earth control.”

“Communications systems offline. Attempting self-repairs. Current status…5%.”

“How long until repairs are complete?”

“Estimations indicate repairs will be completed in…5 days.”

Not good. Not good at all. You push yourself away from the dashboard and take in all that has happened. This was not how the mission was supposed to go. When you were chosen to be sent to Earth’s Mars colony as a teacher for the young children growing up on the red planet, you thought it would be a smooth seven month trip with you peacefully slumbering away in stasis. You were supposed to be woken up by fellow human beings, not a devastating crash resulting in your ship being decimated. Something must have thrown you off course. A freak asteroid strike probably. Which begs the question…where exactly are you?

Ignoring how much pain you are in, you hobble through the remains of the vessel and head for the airlock doors. They remain tightly shut when you make it to them, hiding the knowledge of where you are from view. “Open the doors,” you call out to the ship.

“Warning. Remaining onboard is strongly recommended. Current exterior environment is unknown.”

“Override. Open the doors.”

The doors whoosh apart. You know there’s oxygen outside. If there hadn’t been, the ship would have prevented you from even entering the airlock chamber in the first place. Stepping off, you expect to see the barren landscape of Mars, or the alien environment of some other planet you might have ended up on. Part of you thinks you might still be on Earth; perhaps something went wrong with the ship before you could even break the Troposphere.

What you see surprises you. You are in some sort of…massive cargo hold.

Gigantic metal crates surround you, most of them exuding a pinkish glow. There are lights on the ceiling far above you, but they are dim, and serve little aid in giving you an estimate of just how large this place is. Turning in a circle, you feel awe fill you. “Yeah,” you murmur to yourself. “The ship definitely didn’t crash on Mars.”

Speaking of your ship…you take in the damage. It's an absolute mess of warped, crippled metal doomed to remain collapsed on its side until self-repairs are complete. It would take days, maybe even weeks, for damage of this caliber to be fixed beyond the communications systems. With no way to contact Earth or Mars, you truly are stuck.

You close your eyes and pinch the bridge of your nose. Calm. You are calm. There is absolutely nothing to worry about. Yes, your ship is destroyed. Yes, you are suffering from critical wounds. Yes, you are in an unknown place with seemingly no way out. But you're alive. That’s what matters. And now you just have to survive for five more days.

You hear thumping in the distance.

It takes you a moment to register the pattern of heavy steps that are coming towards you. It’s something alive, you realize with dawning horror. Wherever you are, you have obviously made quite a racket, and now this planet’s local faunal residents are going to seek you out. There’s no way for you to know exactly what sorts of animals live here; any technology you might have used to your advantage is directly connected to the ship. With the ship offline, thus go the tools as well. You are completely in the dark, relying only on the little information about alien lifeforms you have to keep you safe.

You don’t need that information to know you have to hide right now.

You scurry back into the ship, biting back a shout of pain. God, there’s pain everywhere. How have you not passed out yet? Adrenaline does wonders for the human body, you sourly think to yourself when you have to lean against the wall to catch your breath. A hacking cough swells within your chest. When you cover your mouth with your elbow and release it, blood is splattered over your suit sleeve.

That’s when you hear the growling.

It’s unlike anything you have ever heard before. You’ve studied a multitude of animals. You’ve heard big cats roar, wolves howl, hyenas cackle, and birds screech. This is not a growl you can associate with any of those. It…holds similar qualities. But there’s something about it that remains blatantly off.

It sounds strangely like the growl of a machine.

You look outside of the airlock doors, and something huge lumbers out from behind a stack of crates. The first things your brain registers are its red and white armor platings, its bright blue eyes, and the horn-like finials extending from its forehead. It’s humanoid, yet possesses qualities that remove it from any such grouping. This thing is definitely not like you in any sort of way beyond having a face and walking on two legs.

“It’s…a robot,” you whisper. It’s a giant fucking robot moving all on its own, and looking none too happy to be here.

The mechanical creature snarls, lips upturning to reveal sharp canines that are probably longer than your arms. It hasn’t noticed you yet. Its focus is trained on the datapad it holds in its hands. Your mind is blown. This is obviously a member of a clearly intelligent race. Have you just discovered a new extraterrestrial species?

The robot looks up. At first, its eyes scan the crates around you, and it doesn't seem to notice the little ship nestled between them. You remain still, prey instinct taking its course and demanding you freeze where you are. Hopefully it will just move on…

It backtracks, and to your utter horror, it makes direct eye contact with you.

Fucking shit, you think.

The robot stares at you with an expression of pure shock. You stare right back with an equal amount of terror.

It steps towards you. That’s all it takes for you to scream at the ship. “Close the airlock doors! Close them now!”

The doors slam shut. You hear a shout from the robot, and everything shakes as it thunders forward. You stumble and fall with agony ripping through your poor body when you make contact with the floor. The cry that leaves you is riddled with pain.

“A-Activate self-defense protocol!” you order the ship.

“Self-defense protocols offline,” it says back.

“Well, how long until they are online?!”

“Estimated time equals…ten hours.”

“That’s not enough!” you scream rawly.

A gentle tapping echos from the other side of the doors.

You push yourself back, heart pounding as you listen to the robot move all around you. It’s growling softly to itself, and you can hear it touching the ship, running massive mechanical fingers across the walls that act as the only barrier between you and potential doom.

You don’t know what to do. Panic makes you frantic and you desperately try to think of how you can get yourself away from the monster outside. You have no way to defend yourself. You can’t even run. This thing wants you out, and you know it has the power to rip your ship apart in order to get to you if it wishes for it.

Suddenly, everything rocks. Your stomach drops when the entire ship shakes and you feel it being lifted into the air. Realization of what is happening hits you: it’s picking it up. If it can’t get you, it’ll just have to take everything.

“Nononono!” you cry out. The ship tips a little, and you slam into a wall with a grunt. “Stop!” You bang your fists against the metal. “Put it down! Put it down now!”

The robot simply growls in reply. You don’t even know if it hears you. There’s nothing you can do to stop this. You slump back and cover your face as hot, helpless tears finally begin running down your cheeks.

“What exactly is it?” First Aid asks as he peers down at the mangled hunk of metal sitting before them on the medibay berth.

“It’s a ship,” Perceptor flatly replies with a silent “What else would it be?” evident in his tone.

“This is a ship?” First Aid looks horrified. “But it's completely destroyed! How could it have gotten here?”

“It must have crashed during our last refueling.” Perceptor lays his servos over the top of the ship, examining it closely. He huffs and straightens, looking at Ratchet. “Where did you find it?”

“The cargo hold,” the medic replies. “I was down there searching for some extra medical supplies I know we have stored. I wouldn’t have seen it if it hadn’t been for what’s inside.”

“There’s something alive in there?” First Aid gasps.

“A human,” Ratchet replies. “It locked itself inside when it saw me.”

“Impossible.” Perceptor shakes his helm. “Humans are an endangered species that only occupy a small sector of a primitive solar system. They don’t have the technology to make it this far out in space.”

“Well, clearly they do. I know what I saw. These old optics aren’t that far gone.” Ratchet raps his knuckles gently against the ship. All three mechs have to lean in close so they can hear the soft squeak from inside.

“How do we get it out?” First Aid asks. “It could be hurt!”

“It is hurt,” Ratchet answers. “I saw it before it hid itself away. I don’t know how severe the injuries are, but I know it's in pain.”

“Then what are we waiting for? We need to help it!” First Aid presses his forehelm against the ship and whispers softly. “Hello, little human? Please don’t be afraid! We aren’t going to hurt you!”

A whimper is all he gains in reply.

Perceptor crosses his arms. “I can force it out, but you won’t like how I do it.”

“You can’t hurt it,” Ratchet sharply snaps. “That would be cruel.”

“I’m not going to hurt it,” the scientist bites back. “I’m simply going to pump a nontoxic gas into the ship that will cause it to eventually lose consciousness. It will have no choice but to come out, and then we can go on from there.”

“Are…are you sure?” First Aid wrings his servos nervously. “I don’t want it to be scared of us.”

“Whether it’s scared of us or not doesn’t matter,” Ratchet says. “It’s injured, and if we don’t do something, it’ll succumb to those injuries. It’ll understand we don’t want to hurt it after we patch it up.” He nods to Perceptor. “Go ahead, smoke it out.”

The scientist’s right servo transforms into a syringe. Ratchet watches with anxiousness churning in his tank as Perceptor presses his left index digit against the side of the ship and presses a small hole straight through with little resistance to stop him. A terrified shout from the human within causes First Aid to whimper.

Perceptor sticks the upper part of the syringe into the hole, pumping gas into the ship and pulling it back out after a moment, wisps of vapor trailing from the tip. A few seconds later Ratchet hears a string of weak coughs from inside. There is a tense moment where all three of them stand there, and then the doors open and you stumble out with a cloud of gas nearly enveloping your tiny form. You wheeze into your servos, then notice the mechs staring at you and try sprinting right back into the ship. Perceptor cuts you off, slamming his servo down and pinning you under his digits before dragging you back even though you yelp and thrash. You squirm one last time in his grip before suddenly going limp.

Perceptor gently shifts you to lie in the center of his palm. For a terrifying moment, Ratchet thinks you are offline when he sees how still you are with your optics closed. But then his sensors pick up on the rapid beating of your organic spark, and he relaxes. Not dead. Just simply unconscious.

“Give it here.” He holds out a waiting servo. Perceptor hands you over; you are given a quick look-over as Ratchet scans your body. There is a nasty cut on the back of your helm, and your vents are gravely bruised with terrible red marks. “Internal bleeding,” he mutters. “As well as external wounds. The crash really messed it up.” He curls his digits lightly over you and brushes his thumb over your forehead. “Doesn’t have a fever though, which is good. Damage is minimal, nothing life threatening. I can have it fixed in a few hours.”

“You know how to heal organics?” First Aid questions.

“I’ve been around for a long time. War changes you. I’ve had my equal share of saving Decepticon-ravaged planets inhabited by organics as well as machines.” Ratchet walks over to another berth, being careful not to jostle you too much. “First Aid, go grab the restrainers. We’ll have to keep it still so it doesn’t accidentally hurt itself when it wakes up.”

“You’ll have to keep it sedated too,” Perceptor says. “I can help with that. Just a little puff of the gas will keep it asleep.”

“Thank you,” Ratchet says, then pauses. “Listen. Don’t tell anyone about this yet. I don’t want everyone flocking into the medibay and stressing it out. We could accidentally scare this thing to death if we aren’t careful.”

“I won’t.” Perceptor nods. “Just…make sure it heals properly. I don’t doubt your expertise, but…” He looks down at you, and his optics soften. “It hurts my spark to see something so small in so much pain.”

First Aid returns with the restrainer. It’s a small mechanism that runs on magnetic power, created by the Lost Light’s resident mad scientist, Brainstorm himself. Ratchet places it directly over your lax form. With a quiet beep, it presses lightly over your midsection, and magnetic bindings weigh down your ankles and wrists. Seeing you trapped like this makes him feel guilty. This obviously isn’t going to be something you will like when you wake up. But there’s no other way for this to go. You won’t understand his good intentions until he heals you. Until then, he has to keep you still.

He grabs a small serum of glowing blue liquid and bends over you, gently pinching your little fleshy cheeks and working your intake open. “C’mon little one, drink up,” he whispers when he carefully forces the liquid down your throat. He sees your faceplate tighten with discomfort, but your throat pulses as you subconsciously swallow. “There you go. Good human, good human.”

“What are you giving it?” First Aid asks.

“Something I learned to make back in my early days,” he replies. “It heals from the inside. Works on both organics and machines.” He pats your cheeks praisingly and draws away. “There. That should help with the bleeding. It’ll be fine now. I’ll continue to monitor it over the next few days.”

First Aid exhales a relieved sigh. Perceptor reaches out a tentative hand and brushes your hair away from your closed optics. “It’s so small…so soft…”

“We have to be careful with it,” First Aid frets. “We don’t want it to break.”

“Listen.” Ratchet’s tone hardens authoritatively. “I said this before, but I’ll say it again. We have to keep this between the three of us. Don’t tell anyone about a human being in here.”

“But what about the captain?” First Aid asks. “Shouldn’t he know?”

“The captain can’t know. If he finds out there's a human on the ship, he’ll go nuts with excitement and probably end up accidentally crushing the poor thing. Until I confirm it’s not going to drop dead at any moment, we keep it a secret. Got it?”

Both bots nod. Ratchet nods with them. “Alright. I’m going to stay here and make sure it’s condition remains stable. You can come back tomorrow to check in on it and see how it’s doing.”

Perceptor dips his head and leaves without another word. First Aid lingers, optics never leaving you.

“It’ll be fine,” Ratchet reassures him. “I’ll take care of it. Go recharge.”

It takes a lot for the other medic to step back and exit the medibay. Ratchet watches him go, then sighs and drags a servo over his faceplate. Becoming the caretaker of an injured organic lifeform was not something he had planned for today. Primus, how the hell am I going to tell Rodimus?

A soft noise drags his attention away from the alarming thought of what might happen if the extroverted captain learns about his new “crewmate.” He looks down at you and startles a bit. Your eyes, foggy and unfocused, are staring right at him. There’s a fatigued expression of utter terror on your face that once again has his spark feeling like it's been ripped from his chassis and stomped on.

“You’ll be okay,” he whispers to you. “I promise.”

You close your eyes and let your helm loll to the side. Ratchet watches the soft rise and fall of your chassis for a few moments longer, then dims the medibay lights and returns to his previous work on the other side of the room.

Never do you stray far from his mind.

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celestemona · 3 months ago

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BENEATH THE SHROUDED SKIES

pairing: kinich x fem! reader

cw: angst. main character's death. slight spoiler for 5.1' archon quest, though there's not too much to see. canon divergence. kinich may look a bit ooc here but whatever. not proof-read.

reblogs and comments are appreciated ♡

The sky above Natlan had always been a warm crimson at twilight, reflecting the flame in its people’s hearts. But now, as the Abyss cast its miasma over the land, that sky was gone, swallowed by an endless stretch of black clouds and despairing. It felt wrong—unbearably so—to Kinich, but wars had a way of twisting everything, even the heavens.

Your face was the last bright thing he had seen before the darkness came. He remembered his last moments together with you vividly: standing atop a cliff overlooking the Stadium of the Sacred Flame, where your paths would diverge. His tribe had sent him east to deliver messages and support the borders, while you had been tasked with leading a vanguard of your own people to the north. Different tribes, different duties—such was the way of Natlan’s warriors.

Your goodbye had been silent at first, both too proud, too weighed down by your duties to say what you felt. But then, with a sudden urgency, you grabbed his wrist, pulling him close. Your lips met in a desperate kiss, a promise wrapped in fire and sorrow.

“See you soon,” you whispered against his lips, though the uncertainty in your voice told him that you both knew the truth. War held no promises. Still, Kinich had nodded, his jaw tight, holding back the dread that gnawed at his heart. He had watched you walk away, your form swallowed by the horizon, not knowing it would be the last time.

Hours or even days passed, he wouldn’t know to tell. The war raged on. Reports of the dead, the missing, and the injured were relentless. Kinich fought alongside his people, cutting down the Abyss’s beasts with cold precision, each strike sharp with the promise he had made to you—to survive, to see you again. But as the time turned into a blur of battles, one thing became painfully clear: there was no word of you. No whispers of your whereabouts, no updates from your tribe. The silence cut deeper than any blade.

And then, after what felt like an eternity of fighting, Kinich returned to the Stadium of the Sacred Flame, reuniting with the others heroes.

The once-proud landmark of Natlan’s people was now surrounded by the grim faces of survivors. Xilonen stood off to the side, tending to her wounded comrades, her eyes hollow from too many losses. Mualani, usually so full of light, was eerily quiet, her usual smile replaced by a look of weary sorrow. Even Iansan, with her proud spirit, sat slumped on the edge of the arena, barely talking.

Kinich’s heart ached with unspoken fears as he scanned the horizon, hoping—begging—to see your familiar figure emerge through the smoke. But you didn’t come.

Mualani approached him, her face ashen, her hand trembling as she placed it on his shoulder. “We’re waiting for the others to arrive,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “But Kinich, there’s something…”

Her words were cut off by a sudden stir in the crowd. Traveler had arrived.

Trusted by Natlan’s people, Lumine had been aiding in the fight against the Abyss, journeying between tribes, offering her strength where needed. But now, as she approached the heart of the stadium, something was different.

In her arms was a body.

Kinich’s heart stopped. He knew. He didn’t need to see the face to know.

(Y/N).

Your body was cradled gently, but there was no life left in you. Blood stained the fabric of your clothes, dirt clung to your skin, and your once-vibrant face was pale, a ghost of the warrior you had been. Lumine’s expression was solemn as she laid you down before Kinich, her eyes reflecting the weight of what she had found.

“We found her in a village,” the traveler said quietly, her voice heavy. “The Abyss was fierce there. I couldn’t make it in time. I’m truly sorry, Kinich.”

The words barely registered. Kinich knelt beside you, his hands trembling as they reached for you. You were cold—so impossibly cold. His fingers brushed the dirt from your face, and his breath hitched. There was no heartbeat, no warmth, no light in your eyes.

You were gone.

Mualani, standing beside him, looked devastated. She had always been the positive one, the one who could find hope even in the darkest of times. But now, there was nothing but raw grief in her eyes. She knelt beside Kinich, placing a hand on his shoulder. She didn’t say anything. What could she say? Her best friend was dead.

Kinich didn’t remember the last time he had cried. Had he ever? In his life as a warrior, as a survivor, tears had never been an option. However, as he knelt beside you, the woman he loved, holding your lifeless body in his arms, the tears came. Silent at first, then breaking into sobs that wracked his entire frame. His head bent low, his forehead resting against your cold skin as he wept for the promises you’d never keep, the future you would never have.

“Why…” he choked, his voice cracking. “Why didn’t I…” He couldn’t finish. The words shattered in his throat, swallowed by the weight of his grief.

Ajaw, ever so present, stood next to him. The dragon had always had something to say—cruel, biting remarks about the fragility of human life. But now, even him was silent. No words, no disdain. Just silence.

Kinich’s tears soaked into your skin as he held you closer, the world around him fading into nothing. All he could see was your face, your cold body, the life you had fought so hard to protect.

“See you soon,” you had promised. This time, however, Kinich knew. That promise would never come true.

Mualani’s hand stayed on his shoulder as Kinich wept, her own eyes filled with tears she could no longer hold back. But she let him cry, let him cling to the last shred of the person he had loved.

And in the silence that followed, the miasma of the Abyss hung heavy over Natlan, a cruel reminder of the war that had stolen so much from them all.

a/n: i don't know how to write good angst neither i do like to write angst. but this archon quest really left an impression on me. i hope you've suffered enough though i wrote this in a hurry.

#genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #kinich #kinich x reader

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mockerycrow · 1 year ago

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Emergency Contact (2/2) (Ghost x GN!Reader)

-> PART ONE OF EMERGENCY CONTACT

Summary: You never expected Simon to come to your aid, and Simon assures you that he would come every single time.

A/N: I genuinely appreciate the support of this concept <3 I truly did not expect so many people to want a part two, so here it is! please rb with what you think, i love to hear y’all’s thoughts! i’m honestly not the happiest with this, but i did what i could. i may rewrite this in the future.

[WARNINGS: Hospital setting, fluff, hurt/comfort, medical inaccuracies, ooc Simon.]

IT TAKES YOU FOUR DAYS to wake up. Four entire days for you to even move an eye muscle. Four days of anxiety, of Simon lying in wait, waiting for sign of life. Despite the doctors’ assurances of your condition, the confirmed brain activity, Simon was panicking.

He just couldn’t lose you, too. Not when he has such a great thing going for him, so when he learns you’re in a mini coma—induced by your own body to allow your body to rest and heal, he can’t help but freak out. His mind screaming that you’ll never wake up, that you’ll always by lying in a hospital bed, until someone in your family decides to come and pull the plug. He tried to keep himself preoccupied—he read books and articles on his phone, memorized each time the nurses came in to check your vitals, he even texted Price an update about his situation—it wasn’t much information, but he said something along the lines of something happened at home and he thinks his leave with have to be for a month, but there’s a good chance it might be longer.

Simon barely left the room—he couldn’t. Not when at any moment you could wake up, or any moment you could’ve died. He didn’t manage much sleep, either. Every time he managed to fall asleep, the same nightmare would play; what he imagined how your accident went. He imagined you walking down on the sidewalk towards the crosswalk down a street you both frequented together. You were always careful when walking—he knew you were having car troubles for the last few weeks. You press the button on the crosswalk pole to trigger the lights to turn red. Cars slow to a stop, and your crosswalk signs turns to a walking man. You quickly hurry across the crosswalk, but a car comes speeding down—and smashes right into you, full speed, sending you across the road. Simon is just standing there, watching. Completely unable to help. He always wakes up once he walks up to your mangled body.

Simon gasps quietly and jolts awake again, blinking the bleariness away, and the slow beeps and exhales of your machines come back. His rapid heartbeat begins to slow as he realizes that he’s still beside your hospital bed. He looks at you—you’re no longer on a ventilator, but you have an oxygen mask, a way to help your collapsed lung. It makes him feel a bit better, but Simon would very much prefer your eyes to be open, your fingers moving against the blanket you’d likely hate the texture of when you woke up—if you woke up—and he would want to feel your muscles moving under your skin. He also tries to ignore the fear of you having Amnesia after waking up.

Simon isn’t sure when he laid his head back down, but it shoots back up the second he hears a quiet noise escape you—it’s the first sign of life to Simon, his wide eyes scanning your body. His eyes fly to your hand, your fingers twitching a bit. Simon grabs ahold of your twitching hand immediately and looks at your face and he isn’t so sure why his heart is pounding beneath his ribs, but he doesn’t have too much time to focus on it as your arm twitches. It’s like you’re slowly coming back to life in a weird way, but Simon finds himself totally silent, like he can’t find the right words to say just yet. He doesn’t mean to hold his breath, but he does as he watches your shoulder twitch next, and then your eyebrows furrow. Your eyes are already closed, but you squeeze your eyelids together harder. Simon realizes that you haven’t had your eyes open for about four days, so he quickly dims the rooms lights and returns right back next to you. Simon reaches for your hand and gently holds it, watching you slowly get your surroundings.

Your eye flutter open slowly and you blink, and it’s obvious you don’t immediately process that you’re in the hospital. A croaky moan of discomfort leaves you and Simon sits up, the worry eating at his stomach. You look at Simon with unfocused and exhausted eyes and your eyebrows furrow again and your lips part.

“..Simon?”

He releases the breath he was holding and he nods, his black mask slightly moving as his lips move. “I’m right here, [name]. Right here.” Simon absolutely hates how shaky his voice is, and he watches you bit your lip as your eyes begin to fill with tears. His heart skips a beat—what’s wrong? Are you in pain? Are you scared? Simon decides he needs to know because he can fix it, he can help you, right? He needs to fix it—“Y.. You came for me..” You whisper, blinking a tear rolls down your cheek to your jaw quickly. Simon’s own eyebrows furrowed—did you think he wouldn’t? “Of course I did, love.” He murmurs, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “I will always come for you.” You try to hold in the quiet sob, but your shoulders begin to shake. Simon reaches up and gently wipes away a tear with his thumb while he squeezes your hand. “No tears now, hm? You’ve.. You’ve survived the impossible.” Simon says, forcing his voice to be steady. His eyes begin to burn with his own set of tears forming. “I came as soon as I heard, [name]. Don’t ever think I wouldn’t come for you.“

Your lower lip curls as you try to not cry from his sentiment; this is the man who took you in after losing everything, and it took him a long while to even let you know of his actual name, let alone see his face unmasked. This is the man who does not tell you the details of his job, but you know that he could be killed from it. This is the man who sits next to you near his windowsill when you both can’t sleep—the man who wakes up, just knowing something is up. He makes you a cup of your favorite morning drink whenever he can, he signs his sticky notes with a poorly drawn skull instead of his name, he makes piss poor dad and army type jokes, annoys you with his cockiness and bought you a damn mattress and bed-frame—even thought he never had to. He remembers the little things about you, your favorite shows and games—your favorite books, your favorite foods, hell, he remembers every little awful story about your workplace and your job. He’s always been like a wild animal—you come too close and he flees, but if you’re patient do what he needs, he’ll come to you.

Simon blinks away the tears and he clears his throat, his voice hesitant as he speaks. “You made me your emergency contact.” His tone isn’t questioning or warbling in any way—he says it like a statement, a fact, which it is. You laugh quietly which quickly turns into a grimace, causing Simon’s thumb to stop moving over your knuckles for a moment. Of course any movement or sound would hurt. “I.. I had to put one down, I just.. put the first person who came to mind.. Y’know?” You murmured nervously. Simon’s breath hitches for a moment and he only responds with a “mmh” for the time being, which definitely makes you way more nervous than you started out to feel. Your heart monitor spikes for a moment, causing Simon to speak up. “Hey—just relax, okay? M’not mad, love. Not mad at all,” He begins. He glances away from you for a moment before looking back with such a vulnerable look—like he’ll break at any moment. “It was just.. a surprise. That’s all.” But both of you know it was more than just a surprise. It was a small declaration of prioritizing each other—you setting him as the first person to be notified for an emergency, and his acceptance of this role. Simon never thought he would be sitting here, beside anyone else than his teammates in a hospital setting.

Simon isn’t sure when he fell in love with you. Whether it was the first moment he laid eyes on you or way later down the road—he doesn’t know. What he does know is that this.. feeling, isn’t as scary as it used to be. People getting close to him used to terrify him and it still does—but.. there’s something about you. Something about you that makes Simon feel safe. Makes him feel like he doesn’t have to sit in the corner to watch the entire room, you make him feel like he doesn’t have to sleep with a hunting knife stashed under his pillow. You make him feel like he doesn’t have to question your motives with anything you do, you make Simon feel like he can just sit down and relax without having to worry about, well.. anything else besides from the question of what you’ll have for dinner that night. He tries to hold in the shuddery breath and when he can’t, his eyes dart away to your arm. You open your lips to speak again, but you begin to cough. Simon grabs the paper cup of water that has a straw in it that he’s prepared for you everyday just in case you had woken up and he slots the straw between your lips, which you greedily accept and drink down the cold water. It soothes the ache in your throat from being on the ventilator and from not speaking for a couple of days. Once you’re satisfied, he places the cup back on the side table. “Hey, Si,” You croak, your fingers weakly squeezing his hand. Simon’s eyes immediately meet yours again, searching for any hint of pain. You lick your lips, a light smile coming to them. “Two blondes walk into a bar. You’d think one of ‘em would’ve seen it.” He stares at you for a moment, his eyebrows raising. “Did.. Did you just..” You laugh weakly and nod, looking at him. “I did.” You clear your throat again and squeeze his fingers. “Did it because you’re in your head.. Don’t hafta think so.. so much when you’re with me, Simon.”

Simon brushes his thumb over your knuckles once again and he can’t help but silently agree—he doesn’t have to think about anything right now, he can just sit here, with you—even if it’s in a place like this, with you in a condition like that. Simon looks at you and you look back at him, into his soul—and for the first time, he doesn’t want to look away.

taglist;; @alwaystired--neversleeping @handsomeunderwear-art @indefenseofkara @kaysav608 @1-is-loneliest-number @rosee-sensuelle @kitty-satan1 @k4marina @rahmown @royalty-purple @bowtruckleninja @cumikering @silent-neptune @purechaosss @hauntedpass @mxtokko @meimhem [crossed out = not able to tag sorry!]

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reasonsforhope · 3 months ago

Text

The loss of life and impact on the communities in Helene’s path is unfathomable — and both the immediate and long-term needs are vast.

If you’re reading this, it’s likely because you want to help and care about making a difference for those who’ve been impacted by Hurricane Helene.

You’re in the right place. When we see tragedy like this happen in the news, it’s important to not tune it out. Instead, pay attention and truly feel the heartbreak of it — then, look for and be inspired by the people stepping in to help, and use that energy to make a difference ourselves.

Looking for the helpers

Instead of turning away from tragic events like the devastation from Hurricane Helene — we look closer for people stepping in using what they have, where they are, to make a difference for others.

Inspired by Mister Rogers’ famous quote, we call them the “helpers,” — and they’re usually found wherever there’s bad news in the world. Hurricane Helene is no different. Here are some people, businesses, and organizations helping right now:

Chef José Andrés and World Central Kitchen teams are serving thousands of meals to communities in need — from Mexico, and the Big Bend of Florida, and into Appalachia.

Volunteer pilots with the Port City Aviators Flying Club are flying supplies to storm victims in western North Carolina.

The national Disaster Distress Helpline is providing free multilingual crisis counseling to those in need.

Southern Smoke Foundation, an organization that supports food & beverage workers in crisis, is providing financial support for groceries, medical bills, lost wages, and more.

Volunteers with veteran-led disaster response organization Team Rubicon are on the ground in Greenwood, South Carolina clearing roads of trees and debris.

A local library branch in Asheville, North Carolina served as a hub for community members in need of internet service.

Workers at Waffle House were “unlikely heroes” providing food to people in need.

A local Fox News correspondent stopped his live broadcast to help rescue a woman trapped in her car in rising floodwaters.

Emergency response teams rescued more than 50 staff, patients, and caregivers from the roof of a hospital in Erwin, Tennessee.

The SPCA of Brevard rescued 20 animals from Hurricane Helene’s path — and it’s now helping them get adopted.

‍

How to make a difference

After we’ve allowed ourselves to feel the weight of the pain and heartbreak associated with bad news, and look for hope and helpers in the midst of it — we always have the opportunity to join in and make a difference, too.

Here are some ways to help — whether you’re local or far away:

Donate to national organizations

Here are just a few large-scale organizations that have helpers on the ground in the region.

American Red Cross

World Central Kitchen

Feeding America

United Way

Salvation Army

CARE

Donate to local organizations

Local organizations, recovery funds, and mutual aid groups have been deployed across the states impacted by Helene. Find donation links and updates below:

All States:

GoFundMe Hub for Hurricane Helene Relief

Mutual Aid Disaster Relief

Southeast Climate & Energy Network

Convoy of Hope

Appalachia Funders Network

Americares

Organizing Resilience

The National Voluntary Organizations Active in Disaster

Tennessee:

East Tennessee Foundation

First Aid Collective Knoxville

RISE Erwin

Second Harvest Food Bank of East Tennessee

North Carolina:

North Carolina Community Foundation

Hearts With Hands

Manna Foodbank

BeLoved Asheville

Foothills Food Hub

Haywood Christian Ministry

Samaritan’s Purse

Forsyth Humane Society

Hope Mill

‍

Volunteer locally

Organizations in the affected area are seeking volunteers to help distribute resources and support crucial aid efforts. While many of us are not local to the region, those who are nearby are encouraged to join in a myriad of volunteer opportunities.

(Note: If you aren't in the area, the best way you can help is by supporting local efforts with a donation. Keeping roads clear for rescue crews and local relief agents is vital in maintaining safety in these already devastated regions).

For local volunteers, check out:

World Central Kitchen

Operation BBQ Relief

Marco Patriots

Operation Airdrop

Baptists on Mission

‍

Contact your elected officials and ask them to take climate action

Climate scientists agree, the intensity and extent of the devastation brought by Hurricane Helene was made worse by climate change.

While we can’t go back in time and burn less fossil fuels — we can make a difference now to secure a safer future and prevent future climate disasters.

In addition to talking about how this disaster is connected to climate change in our own conversations and holding media outlets accountable for how they talk about climate change — this is a great time to tell your elected officials that you want them to take meaningful climate action.

We’re making incredible progress in the U.S. and globally in reducing emissions, but we need to work even faster — and incorporate climate mitigation efforts into our plans — to limit the most severe impacts of global warming.

#united states #hurricane #hurricane helene #carolina hurricanes #hurricane season #natural disaster #disaster aid #appalachia #psa #volunteer #today is posting about hurricane helene day for me apparently

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grimdarling69 · 3 months ago

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Another Deaged Dan and Ellie or otherwise known as Crack pt7

Pt1 Pt2 Pt3 Pt4 Pt5 Pt6

Diana of Themyscura had met many evil men, but few had reached the evil of Lex Luthor. He had kidnaped batmans son, tortured him in numerous ways, and forced him to create a portal? They weren't completely sure about the specifics of the machine. It was obviously a portal, but to where?

Batman had called them in after taking heavy fire when they marched on Luthor previously, and the Justice League founders were currently investigating the area.

Superman especially. He's currently in the medbay recovering from emergency surgery. His sons were sticking near him after the very near death from Luthors' new powers. Last she heard, Lois had arrived on base to support him as well.

"I already told you. They are as safe as they can be." Luthor repeated under her lassos effect. He was tied up on the floor because it was the only thing that was able to stop him from using his powers.

Zatanna and her contact were currently working on a cell for him based on the mystics. Hopefully it was soon.

"Fine. Let's try another question. How do we work the portal?" She tightened to ropes.

"I don't know. My... little badger did most of the...work."

"Don't you dare call him that!" The Red Hood stomped over, picking him up by the lapels on his suit.

"You have no right to call him anything after what you've done. You're so goaddamned lucky I ain't running this mission cause if I was, I'd have ground you to dust underneath my feet and served your head to him." He growled green reflected weirdly in Luthors eyes.

"Red Hood. Back down." Jason growled but roughly dropped him hard enough he heaved as he hit the ground and curled over.

"Never thought you'd be such a killjoy, Wayne." They didn't freeze they were all much to good to freeze, but she could tell it was a near thing.

"That's right. He told me about all of you. He was more than happy enough to tell me everything." Luthor baited them. Batman growled and approached him with a furious snarl.

"Don't let yourself be led astray by anger." Diana advised him. She received the alert that the cell was ready and loaded him up to bring him to the closest zeta. Batman watched her all the while a contrast from everyone else that avoided even looking in her direction.

-----‐----------

"Fuck that hurts." His son complained but didn't shy away from them. Damians never complained before. The giant yeti stood by assorted through what he can only guess as their medical supplies before finding greenish tinted bandages in strange container. He angled his body infront of Damian shielding him from whatever that was soaked in.

"What is that?" He questioned hesitantly."It's fine, Richard, it's just ecto-aids." Damian answered with full confidence. He couldn't take it any longer and pulled the last stitch through gently before rising and starting to pace erratically

"Damian. I promised myself I would take this slow, but I can't. I have no-no! idea where we are, who anyone even is, and why the fuck you're almost a completely different person." He waved his hands around erratically ignoring the yeti placing the 'ecto-aids' on the counter snd leaving.

"We-are in the Far Frozen, in the Infinate Realms where all afterlives exist together. It's the very foundation of the mulitverse."

"What the fuck are even talking about?" His jead was hurting s d he barely restrained him self from screaming in frustration.

" I am...a reincarnation of the High King Phantom, my-his real name was Danny Fenton. He was a superhero."

"I don't-no I don't understand...what- how?"

" I think i should start from the beginning. Maybe you should sit..?" His son asked his voice gentler and almost fragile. Damian wasn't fragile. He'd seen him take out mountains of goons 4 times his size, but for the first time in years, he truly looked all his fourteen years of life. He sat down beside him and bumped his shoulder a silent show of support hopefully.

"In that life my parents were scientists who studied..." For hours he listened as Damian recounted his previous life occasionally telling his own short tales to make him feel better.

"So Lex Luthor is your godfather from another life?"

"Yes, but he prefers Vlad. He doesn't mind, Mr. Luthor, but he hates Lex." Damian winced.

"Well, this is going to take a lot of adjustment. My whole view on life has been fundamentaly been altered." That is a severe understatement. He's met people who've had past lives, but knowing his own son had one was a...adjustment.

"I...understand if you want me to leave."

"What? Damian-"

"It's fine. I understand if you think I'm to..to different..."

"Damian, you are right that you're different, but we're all a little different. The whole family is batshit crazy you know. We would never kick you out."

"But I was difficult before, and now I'll be even worse. I can't even go one day without getting into fights. I'm...wrong-."

"You are perfectly fine just the way you are." He took Damian face between his hands.

"There is absolutely nothing wrong with you. I am so proud of you. You have come so far in just the short few years I've known you. You overcame your past and you can overcome this to."

"I'm scared. What if-father doesnt-...want me?" His lip wobbled, and his eyes glistened in the warm light.

"Bruce loves you. You're his son. And even if somehow Bruce doesn't, I'll be right here because you're my son too. My Robin. It's okay to be scared. Courage is not the absence of fear -"

"But the triumph over it. Do you know how many times you've told me that? I couldn't count it even if I kept a journal. I would never admit to being afraid to anyone but you." His son finished his quote.

"Then why did you run from me?" He could admit that the question had laid heavily on his mind. There wasn't anybody he trusted more than Damian, and he thought he shared the sentiment.

"I knew that if stayed I'd put them in danger." Damian tried to escape his hold on his head to look away but Dick refused to let him go.

"Who, Dami?"

"My-my...children."

"What? How? You're a-"

"It's more like incubation for ghosts. Dan and ellie, the siblings I told you about. Their bodies were injured and discorpolated to the point they had to retreat to their cores. Because of their pasts, they wouldn't have enough strength to heal, so I am hosting them." Many people have hosted...things before and he's sure ghosts are different, but he's heard of spirits and parasites before.

"Oh. That's a lot but it's not...hurting you is it?"

"Not..typically."

"What do mean?" Please don't make me lose you again.

"I needed to get to Frostbite to check if there are any complications, but because of circumstances, it's complicated." He admitted looking anywhere but his eyes.

"What circumstances? What complications?" He tried to keep the desperation out of his voice but he fears he only made himself sound frustrated.

"The Lazurus Pits. I believe they are corrupted ectoplasm. Frostbite would know more about this than i do. I believe that after I got more pure ecto, the corruption was flushed out, but I need to make sure." He makes a note to ask Frostbite about Jason later.

He opens his mouth to ask again, but Frostbite came back. "Is everything all right? Some of my people heard yelling in here?" Dick goes to speak but is interrupted before he can. Damian shakes his hands off and scoots away from him on the table.

"Everything is fine. We were just about to use the ecto-aids." Damian lied convincingly. The yeti sighed, obviously not believing his less than convincing act.

"You requested a check-up? On the young cores, am I correct?" He questioned, moving on from the subject. Dick didn't remember Damian saying anything about the cores, and he had carried him all the way here. He turned to Damian in question.

"We're ghosts, or I'm a halfa, but we do a lot of emotional speaking and sensing auras. Every core has a special ecto-signal, and most can see ecto-bonds aseell. He's obviously put the dots together. It's not hard." Damian explained. The more he learns, the more concerning it gets. He gives Damian an unimpressed look.

"Quite right. It's a special bond that traverses lifetimes that you two have!"

He turned to damian questioningly but he seemed just as lost.

"I sensed the small ecto-signal that I used to sense from your older sister. I thought you already knew?"

"No, no, I don't sense anything. Everything is diluted. I didn't even sense vlad until he was right in front of me before."

"Hmm, let's come back to this later and get you checked out first to make sure there aren't any immediate problems. I may just be mistaken. Jasmine was always a liminal. She never even reached ecto-contamination levels of a halfa." He pondered.

"Wouldn't i atleadt recognize some things if I was her? Dejavu?"

"I doubt it. You might have the soul of her, but without the ecto, you might never regain the memories."

"And we are not contaminated him just to test a theory. No experiments." Damian said with distant eyes.

"Of course, great one. It was merely a thought." And with that the conversation was over and the examination begun.

------------

Stephanie rubbed her eyes with expensive lotion tissues she'd called pointless, but Alfred always kept in stock. The tissue box was blue, and there was another green one beside it. The universe sure had a way of being funny.

"Care for a snack Miss Stephanie?" Alfred asked her with red rimmed eyes, he carried a plate with fancy cheeses and crackers with funny shapes.

"Thanks, Alfie." "Of course,miss." She sighed and ate the lightest cheese with an almost cat-looking shape.

"Do you want one Cass?" Cass was laying on the med bay bed with several bandages crisscrossed on her upper body. She had a heavily wrapped foot and her hair was secured with numerous brightly colored pins to keep it away from the healing scars.

She shakes her head slightly. Steph sighs and stands from the spare bed and takes the tray with her. She spares one last glance to her mourning and benched best friend.

Duke is dressed as signal sans mask bent over the batcomputer. His stance reminds her of Bruce and she can't help but smile. Duke nods his head at her.

"How is she?" He asks, typing and reading several reports. "Sad." She sets the tray on a nearby counter close enough for Duke to snack. He sighs and finally sits down in the chairs.

"Green Lanturn visited the island yesterday. He says it isn't alien."

"Which one?"

"Guy Gardner." She hums thoughtfully. She's met the guy only once before. He seemed a bit hot-headed, but she's heard of good work from him before. Jason's bike sounded out from behind them. He ripped his helmet off and slammed it down on the counter. The tray shakes, and the cheese mixes with the crackers in a pile.

"Amy leads?" She asked him ignoring his anger. He was getting better and now this.

"Do i look it panned out, blondie?" She sighed and pulled herself onto the counter.

"Zatanna had a contact look at the portal. They said it 'reeked' of death. Refused it to get any closer. Deadman is going to check it out today." Duke interupted them.

"What about Constantine?" She took the subject change.

"Still missing. Zatanna found his house yesterday. There was a note of a poker meeting in hell for a piece of his soul. Bruce thinks he lost and pissed of a demon he couldn't escape."

"You've got to be kidding me. How many people are going to go missing?" Jason started ripping off his armor and disappeared into the changing rooms. Hopefully, for a shower, he reeks.

"The Titans went back to the island today."

"How was that?"

"Raven ran into Zatanna and offered to look for Costantine in hell."

"Seriously? That's the worst idea ever."

"Batman said that to. She's probably going to go through with it still, though."

"Obviously."

"Hows your mom?"

"Good. She's worried about me. I keep telling her it's okay, but everyone knows about the cover story kidnappings by now."

" I still think the cover is bad. I'm surprised they even bought it."

"The press will buy anything that makes cops look bad. After that shootout at the mall last week, not a single person got hurt apart from some bruising, but everyone is dumping on the pigs now. Bruce is pissed."

"True. It was just some desperate kids trying to get quick cash anyway. They didn't even have bullets. Now all i get from Bruce is that I should have stopped them from pistal whipping that security guard."

"No shit?" The zeta tube rang out suddenly.

"Spoiler. Signal. Gather the others. We have a lead.

Fucking finally.

------‐---

Dick Grayson was no stranger to restless nights. Being a circus act turned vigilante, he'd been used to working well through midnight. Then he became a cop then Bruce 'died', and he quit. Then he came back and he had to say bye to his son and took a gymnastics training job. Much more flexible hours but just as exhausting. Classes, people, and training all day. It challenged even his extroverted attitude.

The coffee in this dimension wasn't anything like his own. It had an almondy taste to it, and he'd assume it was poisoned if he hadn't already drunken 2 cups a day since he got here.

It never got cold even if he left it out all day in the biting storms outside. It would be a little watery but still hot. He very much enjoyed that. He could drink room temperature coffee, but he still hated it.

They'd been staying at a log cabin in the Far Frozen since they got here four and half weeks ago. He'd questioned just about every yeti and random ghost about raising ghostlings, and hes pretty sure they run in terror when they see him coming by now. He sighed and set down his empty mug.

He spends just about everything day questioning ghosts, Frostbite visits, and spending time with Damian. Rinse and repeat. Don't get him wrong, he loves spending time with damian it was just hard. It's obvious they're running out of time. Bruce will get the portal fixed one way or another and come get them, and damian is scared out of his mind.

His nightmares haven't been this bad in years. It's gotten to the point that Damian starts out the night in his bed. Damian didn't talk in his sleep before it was mainly mumbled. Now it's all he hears.

(Please...I'm alive-im alive-im a real...person)

He gets his own nightmares as well. He sees Danny on the table. Strapped down, his hair, a white dewy halo. His green eyes glow, unseeing. A mix of red and green blood surrounding them. He's struggling with the wounds. Pushing the organs back in. Taking out the rib stretcher. Pushing them back in. Stapling his skin. His hands are covered in blood, both green and red. He thinks they might be a mix of Jazzs memories and his own imagination.

The toaster popping up pulls him from his thoughts. He picks up the burning bread. Swearing loudly and tossing the bread from one hand to the other all the way to the plate. Why didn't he just grab the plate? God he's fucking dumb.

The oven timer beeps, and he grabs his much needed mitt. He pulls out the golden brown biscuits. Alfred would be proud. He's not a bad cook, no matter what the others say. He's just a distracted and experimental one. Alfred often banned him from his experiments growing up trying to cook his parents' meals from memory. Alfred had, of course, pulled up recipes and even made calls. It just didn't taste right it was missing something he'd argue. Now that he was older, he thought maybe the circus was missing things and his parents substituting it the best they could.

He grabs the butter from the fridge and pulls back the wrapping to use the end of the stick on the biscuits. Damian hates when he does it 'unsanitary and gross', but come on, he has to do it as quickly as he can. They're also the only ones who have to eat here! Damians ghostly friends have been bringing back food from the real world for then to eat. He's trying not to wonder where their getting the food.

He grabs the honey jar and uses the fancy stick he can't remember the name of to spread the honey everywhere. He even puts some on his toast. He flips the last few pieces of suspicious looking fake bacon onto the resting plate. The Lunch Lady Ghost had brought for them saying he had to get protein somewhere, but if you ask him, it looks...iffy. He made extra biscuits just in case.

He loads the biscuits and toast on one plate and another for the fakon. He balances two cups of orange juice in one hand and holds the plate with his stomach and forearms. He nudges the slightly open door with his foot. The ghost dog 'Cujo' nips at his ankle and hopps around his feet excitedly.

"Down boy." He jokes half-heartedly. The dog takes his command very seriously and lays on the ground tongue halfway out his mouth. His wagging tail is undeterred by the wood intangiblely sweeping through in wide arcs. Damian is asleep under the covers his body to used to his footsteps to register as a danger anymore. He's trying his best to treat this as a vacation instead of getting used to it, but he can't help but admit he'd love to do this every morning. Making breakfast for them every morning, coming home or driving to pick him up every afternoon, no longer making do with calls and canceled weekends.

"Dami... wakey wakes, eggs, and bakey..." he sings, rubbing his shoulder. He sets the orange juice and plates on their one nightstand next to the baby 101 book they probably all read in Robin training already. He grabs his toast and a biscuit off the plate.

"Five more minutes..."No can do, baby. We've got a busy day today." Dami groans and rubs his face. His hair is much longer than three and a half months ago, no longer under Alfred's tutelage or gels, and now free to curl. He can't resist the temptation and runs his hand through the wild curls. Damian swats his hand away without any real heat, and he jumps on the bed, crawling over Damian and informing his squawk of protest to his side of their bed.

Damian sits up and snatches a biscuit and the baby name book underneath the other book. He pushes the book across the bed without a word.

"Did you find what you wanted? I thought you were going with Dan and Ellie. Like before." He notices a paper sticking out of the book, and he opens to that page. A small paper with Damis fancy scribbling is sticking out.

Dante Jasmine

Eleanor Richard

He sucks in a harsh breath.

"I-I had a rough time deciding on either Dante or Jordan. But I thought he'd like Dante more, you know. Do-do you like it? The names? Is it... okay?" Damian places a hand on his stomach where their cores are resting. They're growing stronger by day. Damian had let him hold his hand there just last night and feel them kicking? Pulsing? It was hard to tell, but Frostbite assured them it was normal and that any day now, they'd phase out. Frostbite had said that ghosts barely incubated for more than a month it only took so long because both the cores and Damian were weaker.

"It would be an honor. To have her named after me. And if Frostbite was right, both of them." Damian smiles and takes a bit of the biscuit. He barely manages to keep the happy tears in.

"I wanted to talk to you about something else as well."

"What Dames?" The last word sounded more like 'duhs' after he started eating his biscuit.

"Tucker stopped by when you were out interagating the yetis yesterday." He blushed and stuffed the rest of the biscuit into his mouth. "He said Constantine was asking around at big leagues poker last week. They invite Tuck all the time, probably to suck up to the Big Guy in charge, you know.

"Since he's been looking after the throne for you?"Yeah, he's been doing a pretty good job. we'll probably revisit it when I'm older, but he said that he was looking for a pair of lost heroes."

"He described us?"

"Yeah, Tucker said it was pretty accurate, too. Even called in some favors. Tucker thinks he suspects something with the dimensions."

"Is he suspicious?"

" I don't think so, but Tuck said he pissed off some demons."

"Enough to go after him?"

"It's John Constantine. What do you think?" Damian said, folding his arms and squinting as if to say 'really?'.

"Fine. You're right. Should we help?"

"I'm sure the league will go after him if anything happens. I'll put some ghosts on the trail. Some cute blob ones, maybe." The league...Bruce.

"We should talk about Bruce." Damian looked away.

"What's there to talk about?" Dick scooted closer, catching a glance at the dog curled below damian on a pillow.

"Bruce loves you damian."

"You already said. God, you're starting to sound like a broke record. Did you know that?" Anger. It's easier to be angrier than admit you're scared. He'd know that well.

"It's true. I know you're worrying about it."

"Do you really think Father will undersrand? Understand them? Leave it alone?"

"You're his son, of course he can!"

"Am i? Am I his son? Or am I just another obligation? A reminder of his mistakes." Uncommon tears threaton to fall from Damians face. Reflecting in the early morning light.

"That's not true. He loves you." God, he was broken record.

"But does he like me? Does he really trust me?" Damian turned to him, fully letting him see the falling tears.

"Of course he likes you. You're his Robin and his son." He reached out a hand to wipe the tears from his face. His heart aches for his son.

Damian threw himself into his arms. His head made his way onto his neck and shoulder. Clutching and gripping his clothes. Dick grabs him and does his best tonadjust him into a healthier position to not hurt either one of them. There's a damp spot on his shoulder, but he ignores it.

"I'm your Robin too..."

"He's your dad, dami." He mutters into his hair. He uses his fingers to soothe the knots in his hair out as gently as he can.

"I wish-wish you were my real dad... not Bruce." Please don't say that. Please, you don't mean it. Damian starts sobbing and shudders against him. Shaking the both of them. He tries to soothe him. Rocking them back and forth.

"Dont say that. Don't do this to me -" He tries his best to get rid of the thoughts. Of them being actual father and son. Of him being able to take Damian home. Of not having to worry about Bruce's reminders that they're brothers. That he's Damians father, not him.

"You're his son." A reminder to himself just as much to Damian that he's Bruce's, not his. Damian just sobs louder. His heart breaks into pieces, and he tries to comfort him, rubbing circles into his shoulder blades. He turns his head and kisses his Baby Bats forehead. This angle allows him to see his face. It was soaked and reddened from the tears. Damian tries to bury himself closer to him.

"No-no..." Damians sobs into his arms. His jacket is drenched.

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covid-safer-hotties · 4 months ago

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Back in early 2020, the news of the strange illness causing terrible pneumonias in China saddened me, but I believed I was safe in Canada. Within weeks, there was a reckoning: thousands were dying on my doorstep, too.

Directors of an independent living residence at the start of the pandemic asked me to become the residence’s COVID-19 advisor. They had no qualified medical staff, despite supporting elderly residents. Back in those early days, anyone with a medical qualification was commandeered to help in any way they could.

Confronted with the task of providing guidance to the nonmedical staff taking care of these residents, I decided to learn everything I could about the pandemic. At that time, about 1,000 papers were being published every month detailing research into every aspect of the coronavirus. Of course, I couldn’t read all of them, but I read as many as I could and built a breadth and depth of evidenced-based knowledge about SARS-CoV-2 and COVID-19. I wrote up the protocols and during my tenure as COVID-19 Advisor for this residence, we kept COVID out.

As a family physician seeing COVID-19 in my practice, I came to recognize that so many of my colleagues and patients had no idea how to keep themselves safe from the coronavirus, nor were they aware of its long-term risks. I saw the need to take action and effect change, which ultimately led me to becoming an advocate for Long COVID awareness.

I started the medical education company Kojala Medical, aiming to provide evidenced-based information about medical issues in a form patients could understand and reliably trust. I wanted a credible, trustworthy site to which I could refer my patients, colleagues, friends and family. We started with a focus on COVID-19 and have now expanded to Long COVID, with the site longcovidtheanswers.com.

I first learned about Long COVID in 2020 through publicity raised by the Body Politic COVID-19 support group, then became more alarmed as I read scientific articles about the disease.

Aside from the official death toll of over 7 million from COVID-19, Long COVID has emerged from the pandemic as the single biggest disaster to afflict humanity, yet very few people who are not sick with Long COVID are aware of it, want to know about it, believe in it, or even acknowledge that it’s happening. Sadly, many in the medical profession fall within that group of non and disbelievers.

This is bizarre, especially because of the impact of the disease. One recent review estimates more than 400 million global cases of Long COVID. I am furious that not enough is being done to alleviate this suffering. The injustice of yet another neglected and marginalized chronic illness that disproportionately affects women.

So, rather than sitting around waiting for ‘someone’ or ‘body’ to do something, I decided to act.

For me, medicine is fundamentally about aiding people to get as well as possible from any sickness they have — and even more importantly, preventing people from getting sick in the first place. In both of these regards, we are failing people with Long COVID dismally.

Long COVID is not the flu, it is a multisystem debilitating infection associated chronic condition. Developing Long COVID can be disabling and life-changing. Recovery remains low — and some manifestations like heart disease, dysautonomia, and myalgic encephalomyelitis (ME) may last a lifetime.

This is a terrifying situation to be in when, as a global community, we have chosen to act as though the pandemic is over and repeatedly expose ourselves to SARS-CoV-2, a grade 3 biohazard, with little to no protection.

As I read more and more research papers about Long COVID and looked at the inaction of global governments and my own profession, I feared that we were sleepwalking into a global mass disabling event unnecessarily, since we have many technologies available to prevent this.

Infection-associated chronic conditions do not have an established medical speciality, and are rarely taught in medical school. With the medical profession disengaged, people with Long COVID have been left to find answers for themselves.

My work aims to build on support groups, which have helped establish caring communities for people with Long COVID, but have also paved the way for us as scientists and medics to change the way we conduct research in a more patient-focused way. Nevertheless, they don’t entirely fulfill the need for evidence-based information about the disease in a readable format for nonmedical individuals.

I saw a huge need for a comprehensive website that would be of use to all people with Long COVID, their caregivers, the scientists researching the disease, and the multidisciplinary team of healthcare professionals that would be needed to rehabilitate them. Our organization believes that Long COVID The Answers meets those requirements.

There is also a pressing need to train medical professionals so that they will acknowledge Long COVID and feel confident about diagnosing and managing it. Inspired by an interview with Dr. Ric Arsenaeau, an expert in managing complex chronic diseases, my team and I created a podcast series: so that medical providers can receive continuing professional development/educational credits from watching this series.

The podcast series features a range of experts, including people with Long COVID, doctors, scientists, educators, and medical clinicians. Some of these experts also serve on our advisory board, overlooking and participating in the project.

Our site aims to raise awareness about the dangers of continuously exposing ourselves to a perilous virus with no thought of what it will cost us and our children.

This will mobilize the people of the world to demand that their leaders properly provide safe spaces for us all to prevent us from ever getting infected in the first place.

We need to mandate our governments to access all the mitigating technologies that we have in our roster, not only vaccination. The best way of managing Long COVID is to prevent people getting infected with SARS-CoV-2 in the first place!

We need national and international indoor clean air acts – to protect us from emerging pathogens.

For people with Long COVID, awareness will bring an educated and mobilized medical profession, governmental resources, financial and sociological support, and money for research — to facilitate treatments and, hopefully, a cure.

These are the main reasons why I jump out of bed in the morning with gusto, focus, and determination, and why I’ve poured all my money and my time into educating people about Long COVID.

Dr. Funmi Okunola is a British Family Physician who lives and works in Vancouver, Canada. She is the President and CEO of Kojala Medical, a digital medical education company behind COVID-19 The Answers and Long COVID The Answers.

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

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qqueenofhades · 1 year ago

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Hi! This question has been noodling in my head for a few weeks, and I’ve been really curious to hear your opinion. I’ve appreciated your very thoughtful commentary on the ways the online left in particular have hurt the real and concerted efforts that have been made to navigate through the Gaza war in support of Palestine. I’ve seen a lot of outrage online about Biden bypassing congress in order to make another emergency weapons sale to Israel, which does indeed read as counter to helping to the Palestinians facing endless and indiscriminate violence. I understand that you might not want to answer this ask, because the work that you already do in your life offline and the work that you do here on tumblr to respond to and explain these issues is exhausting enough. Thanks so much for your time and your thoughtful contributions! It’s always really helped me remember to slow down and think critically about the media I consume.

Because you have asked this thoughtfully and in good faith, I will return the favor and give you a careful and extensive answer to the best of my ability. However, obligatory top-of-post disclaimer that I will disable reblogs at the first hint of any wankery in the notes and I will not answer any follow-ups or secondary asks at this time (unless I decide to do so, but I engage with this topic sparingly, judiciously, and only in small doses, so don't count on it).

First, let me say that the moment, I disagree with substantial portions of how Biden is handling the two main foreign-policy crises (Ukraine and Gaza). In regard to Ukraine, I think he's backed off, taken his foot off the gas, and otherwise given Republicans ammunition to keep delaying or watering down a new aid bill, is refusing to disburse military aid packages from the $4 billion of funding remaining that was previously approved by Congress, hasn't sent long-range ATACMS and other critical military hardware that might bring the war to an end sooner, and is not (as of the moment, though recent reporting suggests this might change) pushing hard enough for frozen Russian assets to be transferred to Ukraine for military and/or humanitarian financial assistance. However, I am also aware (unlike, it seems, much of the left-leaning internet) that I am basing these judgments only on my personal impressions, on what is reported (or not reported) in the media (which has plenty of its own problems) and otherwise what is formed in my role as an ordinary American citizen without any kind of special, classified, high-level, or government access. I know nothing more than any of you, and I also know that a lot of what goes on behind closed doors does not appear on Political Twitter and/or the Washington Post or the Guardian or Daily Kos or whatever other aggregate sources of information I or any left-leaning person typically consumes. So it's highly possible (and this is my cautious academic instinct speaking) that I do not, in fact, have a full picture of events. There are also contributing factors that Biden cannot simply handwave aside, even if he did, say, dip back into the $4 billion pot in the meantime. Congress will need to pass a new funding bill for Ukraine aid and the MAGA Republicans have been enthusiastically blocking it to the point where Putin's cronies on Russian state TV praise them effusively for it. We all know about the Republicans and Russia's mutual love affair. So.

The same goes for Gaza, and even more because we have already had reporting about how the Biden administration is walking a behind-the-scenes tightrope in a number of seemingly impossible tasks: keeping the war from spreading to a larger theater, pressuring Netanyahu to dial down, y'know, the rampant genocide (when Netanyahu notoriously doesn't like Biden, was very close with Trump, and would be happy to keep the war going in order to boost Trump's chances of being re-elected and save Netanyahu himself from his own criminal prosecutions), and pursuing a complex policy toward the state of Israel that does not follow the antisemitic Western Online Left's fever dream of "Israel suddenly disappears overnight and falls into the ocean and all Jews die or disappear." We have had multiple credibly sourced reports about this. Blinken is back in the Middle East right now trying to keep the war from spreading. The US under Biden has criticized Israel's essentially empty policy document for post-war Gaza as not being remotely feasible (because it's so vague) and gone so far as to voice support for a two-state solution with Palestinian self-determination (which is itself quite radically different from previous administrations). However, they have also vetoed UN ceasefire resolutions and other essentially meaningless political theater (the UN as a whole has been ruthlessly exposed in the last few years for being completely useless) that are easy to gin up outrage about, and that's what the internet focuses on, rather than any of the other complicated actions taking place.

All of this is to say that no, in fact, I don't blindly support everything the Biden administration is doing in regard to either Ukraine or Israel right now, but I actually have a sense of real-world perspective about it and understand that there are certain immutable realities that we are working with and which will not be erased by some absolute jackasses yelling at Biden in a historically black church at the commemoration of an anti-black terrorist attack. Likewise, as I've said it before and I'll say it again, and as plenty of other people have noticed and pointed out, the Western left is using this as an orgy of pseudo-revolutionary fervor that focuses on using Hamas as a proxy for their own fantasies of violent uprising against their own governments. Because while yes, anti-zionism and antisemitism are two distinct things and represent different aims and goals, it's become more or less irrelevant in allegedly pro-Palestine Western leftist spaces. It's just increasingly rabid, accelerationist, and nihilistic antisemitism all the time, or the obvious usage of "Zionist" to mean "Jew." It's not good. There is no concept of actual restorative justice for Palestinians or other people, such as Ukrainians, Syrians, Uyghurs, Taiwanese, etc, either undergoing genocide or facing the threat of it, because Western leftists have latched onto this cause solely as a stick to beat the Democratic Party with and have no actual moral interest or concern in stopping genocide elsewhere in the world or repudiating it as a method overall. They just want the state of Israel (which they characterize as a "proxy state for white western colonialism" despite the many, many things historically, religiously, and politically wrong with that statement, because it means it now Contains the Right Buzzwords to Oppose It) to be destroyed altogether in the name of "opposing colonialism," but it really seems to be all about opposing Jews. Hmm.

Simply put, Biden is not ever going to pursue a policy of "let's totally abandon Israel tomorrow, never sell it any weapons or allow it to defend its own civilians, and agree that Hamas is actually a good representation or advocate for the Palestinian people" in the way a number of Western Online Leftists seem to think he should do. There is still the fact that Israeli civilians do exist and that Hamas has continued to launch missiles at them daily, inconvenient as that fact might be for the Hamas fanboys (and fangirls) who now populate much of what passes for Western leftist discourse spaces. (Either that or they don't care, because in their view, Israeli civilians are fully acceptable collateral damage by virtue of simply living in Israel in the first place, which -- yikes. Fucking yikes. That is all.) The number of people professing to be lifelong leftists who are Just Shocked at all the antisemitism, or thinking that any and all antisemitism is just artificially introduced into leftist spaces by bad-faith right-wing/Nazi psyops either has not spent any actual time around leftists, or (more likely) simply does not listen to what they openly say. The antisemitism is virulent, constant, and only getting worse. On the most basic level, regardless of the other difficulties around the founding of Israel as a state in 1948 and the fact that doing so on some of the most bitterly religiously, politically, ethnically, and culturally contested territory in the world for over two thousand years was always going to be a massive clusterfuck, the fact of its immediate post-Holocaust creation simply cannot be ignored the way many Online Leftists do. Israel exists because of the worst antisemitic mass murder in recorded history (and that's a high bar). That fact must be incorporated into any actual discussions about its right either to exist or to protect its own civilians. But this gets turned into "Israel exists only as a puppet state of white western colonialists" which is just bad on so, so many levels.

The collective Western Online Leftist feeling seems to be that Hamas are innocent and wronged freedom fighters who are begging for a ceasefire and the cruel Israelis aren't granting them one. This is not true. Hamas has rejected multiple ceasefire opportunities, and continued to launch missiles and retaliatory attacks, because they are terrorists and they do not want or represent any serious opportunity to negotiate in the framework of western liberal democracy. They are treated as helpless woobified blorbos by much of the Western leftist-leaning internet. They are not. In that case, Biden bypassing Congress to sell Israel weapons (which was just something like 100 million of artillery shells, which is not nothing but still not a huge systematic thing like, say, Reagan's Iran-Contra scandal) is not great. I do not support anything Israel is doing to Gaza. It is abhorrent. However, there are reasons for Biden to provide some limited amount of weapons to Israel without congressional approval that do not automatically and mindlessly equate to BIDEN SUPPORTS TOTAL GENOCIDE IN GAZA!!!!!!1 Especially when as I've said, the Online Leftists only care about stopping genocide when it fits their political self-righteousness, and absolutely not at all the rest of the time.

This is representative of the fact that Western Online Leftism has now completed its all-out descent into blind Noam Chomskyism. Chomsky has never met a "leftist" or "anti-Western" genocide he couldn't deny, excuse, or openly cheerlead (going all the way back to the 1970s and Pol Pot/the Khmer Rouge in Cambodia and going up to the minute with Russia/Ukraine and Israel/Palestine). Noam Chomsky is the leftist Henry Kissinger. His ethics and morals are equally abhorrent, he's just as willing to justify total genocide in the name of advancing his preferred political ideology, and while there were (justifiably) celebrations and gloating memes across Tumblr when Kissinger finally bit the dust, Chomsky's beliefs are replicated with slavish adoration in many other Tumblr spaces and spread in some form or another to the rest of the website, which now takes them as leftist gospel (and let's not even talk about Twitter). This represents my absolute frustration with the fact that Western Online Leftism has devolved to such a degraded, mindless, useless, and malevolent level that "cheerlead for any anti-western/Leftist TM terrorist group or state" is taken to be the be-all and end-all of their moral philosophy. Someone remarked that ISIS peaked too early; if they were still at the height of their powers today, they would have a legion of devoted white so-called progressive Twitter users shilling earnestly and angrily for them, and Christ, isn't that the fucking truth.

I know we live in a hard, frightening, complex, and difficult world, and it's hard to sort out what our moral responsibility and action should be at any given time, especially since the answer is always so frustratingly partial and incomplete. Nobody of basic good sense and decency wants to see Gaza leveled while the Israeli state continues to apply a number of violently cruel collective punishments even outside the actual daily bombing of civilians. But for the love of god, let's get rid of the idea that the continued mindless violence doesn't benefit Hamas (because it does; unsurprisingly, sympathy for their cause has soared in Gaza) as much as it does Israel, or that Hamas is some kind of benevolent peacemaker that is being thwarted by the cruel imperialist US/West. And going back to the incident that prompted you to send me this ask: white leftists have often and repeatedly demonstrated their withering disdain for black people, Democratic voters, "mainstream" Americans, and anyone else doesn't buy into the twisted tankie fantasy land where getting rid of Biden would somehow be a massive coup for social justice (by getting Trump, now openly announcing at every turn that he will be a dictator, back into office! Very praxis, much justice. Wow.)

In short: if you, a white person, stand up in Mother Emanuel AME -- one of the most sacred sites for Black churchgoers, who are indeed often heavily Democratic voters -- in the middle of a remembrance service for victims of white supremacist terrorism, after the Black pastor has asked you not to protest inside the church out of respect for the Black community coming together to relive its trauma -- just so you can heckle Biden and feel good about yourself, then Jesus Christ. You don't care about restorative justice for people of color, or literally any justice at all, much less "stopping genocide." You just want to use them as props for your Chomsky cosplay revolutionary fantasies and your sense of self-righteous superiority over literally everyone else, regardless of the real-world consequences. So I have no hesitation whatsoever in telling those people to get fucked. Often and repeatedly.

#anonymous #ask #politics for ts #israel hamas war #russia ukraine war #history #long post

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paloma-ascends-into-hellfire · 10 months ago

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eating disorder harm reduction

no one ever compiled this so that it what we are doing today. for people with eds and people whose loved ones do. please note: i’m not a doctor. this is a compilation of things from books and ed resource sites.

for people whose loved ones have an eating disorder:

try to make sure they know these things.

try not to force them to eat, they might feel uncomfortable eating in front of people. also, risk of refeeding syndrome.

if their life is in danger and you are seeking help for them, consult the person beforehand to make sure they will be safe and give them a heads-up so that they aren’t startled (especially if they’re neurodivergent! giving them notice will aid control!)

offer them ways of controlling things aside from food - practice consent, include them in conversations, don’t talk about them behind their back, compliment their makeup or hair.

be patient. the person may be irritable from lack of sleep, feelings of depression, worthlessness, etc., or malnutrition.

keep in mind that you can’t tell if someone has an eating disorder by looking at them. people of all weights do - only 17% of anorexics are underweight - and also, men and non binary people can also have eds.

general:

drink lots of water, especially if you’re drinking lots of caffeine.

drink some electrolytes at least once a week - gatorade, electrolyte tablets, coconut water, doesn’t matter, just get it into your system.

if you are getting dizzy or flushed and can feel your heart beating, quick carbs will raise your blood sugar - sweets, bread, fruit, juice, non diet soda, whatever. keep snacks around pls.

your brain uses 400-500 calories daily. eat more than this.

take your supplements!

you still need protein, have an egg or something.

don’t take adderal or insulin unless you are actually diabetic or neurodivergent, because you are raising the price by buying them and denying access to those who need it.

throw a towel over the mirror. it’s not worth it if it’ll cause you anxiety.

try to limit disordered behaviours like body checking, purging, and weigh ins.

practice good dental hygiene.

put your scale somewhere where you have to actively look for it to weigh yourself.

avoid social media and for your sake don’t go on pro ed tiktok or tumblr or twitter or insta.

get a buddy who also struggles with the same thing if possible to support each other.

get regular medical check ups (if you can afford it)

practice things within your control - makeup, hair, clothing, etc.

push your rules - eat 5 minutes before your time, or 50 calories over your limit.

for people with restrictive disorders (e.g. anorexia):

do weight and resistance training at least twice a week to prevent musculoskeletal conditions such as osteoporosis.

don’t drink on an empty stomach.

try to put gaps between fasting periods.

don’t fast for more than 72 hours.

wear lots of layers to keep warm.

eat an extra 100-200 calories on your period if you menstruate.

have a metabolism day.

take care of your hair.

as horrifying as this is to many people, please go to the hospital if you’re experiencing heart problems or if you’re passing out for more than 30 seconds.

for people with purging disorders (e.g. bulimia):

if you would like to purge, wait 15 minutes first.

after purging: drink lots of water - the emptiness you feel is dehydration. don’t brush your teeth but rinse your mouth out, preferably with an alkaline mouthwash or baking soda mixed into water. do something you want to do, like reading a book or watching a show. don’t smoke. don’t have anything acidic. eat a banana or some chocolate or a rice cake to keep your blood sugar levels in check.

if you vomit blood or your vomit looks like coffee grounds, this is a sign of internal bleeding. you could be drowning in your own blood from a hole in your esophagus, essentially. go to the hospital or call 911/999/the emergency number in your area.

stay safe everyone. i hope this helps. also, i do not use these tags - i have them blocked - but i am using them so that people on these tags will find this because they need it most.

#ed harm reduction #harm reduction #ed recovery #pro recovery #notpro4n4 #tw eating disorders #tw ed not ed sheeren #pro a4a #ana trigger #ana rant #tw anorexia #tw bulimia #anamia #⭐️ving #edhr

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fatliberation · 1 year ago

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The Fat Protestor

by @sparklejams and @jordallenhall

For everyone showing up to protest the US government funding of a genocide -- be loud, be safe. Your body is a force. If you are able, use it.

Police identify people by body type/clothing. Be aware (as if you could possibly forget) that you don't have the privilege of blending into the crowd.

Be aware that fatmisic police protocol and infrastructure can endanger your life during arrest.

Let this inform the risk that you take.

If you get arrested: raise hell about being cuffed with your hands in front of your body.

Mid-fat, super-fat, and infinifat people are especially at risk of positional asphyxia when cuffed with their arms behind them. Be especially vocal about any stress position where your knees are raised (sitting on a low police van bench, for instance).

Police typically don't listen to folks when concern is expressed over being cuffed in the back -- be loud. Verse yourself and your community in de-arresting practice. These risks are not commonly known, though are present not only for fat people, but also those with asthma and other breathing difficulties.

Make sure the people you are with are informed of these risks before protesting.

Direct action is sweaty. Prepare against crease rashes (yep - it's a normal self care maintenance thing if you have skin rolls/folds. It's normal. It's common. It's nothing to be ashamed about.) by drying with paper towels, using antiperspirant or cornstarch under your breasts/belly. When you get home, shower and treat with a wound cleanser (shoutout bactine spray) or a tea tree oil balm or soap as needed.

Our fat bodies are magnificent contributions at protests. Our fat bodies take more effort to move - think of all the wonderful ways we can use this to our advantage at a protest or direct action. We can block pathways and hold precious land with our fat bodies. We can shield and protect precious people with our fat bodies.

Bring:

• Change of socks. If you get caught in the rain or doused with water, or even if you sweat through your socks - walking around in wet socks will cause bad blistering.

• Light first aid/bandaids

• Water, snacks, meds

• A physical copy of your emergency contact in case of arrest

Try to go with other fat people. Comrades in normative bodies may not always consider your body and what is safe for you - so make sure you loudly advocate for yourself and your needs within whatever group you are with.

Stay cool. Take breaks. Sit or stop when you need to. Try to be hyper-mindful of getting overheated.

In case of hospitalization:

• Make a packet containing all medical info, advance directives, and emergency contacts. Put it in a clear sleeve with a humanizing photo of you with loved ones at the front.

• Learn more about how to make a Connection Kit and humanize yourself to healthcare workers in the Know Your Rights Guide on nobodyisdisposable.org

Remember that there is so much to do beyond the front lines.

• Provide jail support (wait to greet released protesters with water, snacks, hugs, and rides home).

• Provide your home as a central prep and recovery space before/after.

• Stay near the action and offer your car as a mobile phone charging station.

• Provide childcare.

• Drop off supplies.

Honor your body as a resource for civil disobedience. Center your needs.

#fat activism #activism #protesting #the fat protestor #free palestine

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lovelysakuryay · 5 months ago

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EDIT: This post has been gaining traction, just wanted to state this post made for the riots which had been occurring starting 6th August.

To my fellow uk tumblr users, in particular my fellow POC and immigrant tumblr users, i know that there is a shit ton of riots going on simultaneously today. please be careful and try not to leave your house unless you absolutely have to.

this post isn’t intended to spread hate or fear but rather to emphasise how important your safety in all of this is.

and if you do happen to be outside in the time of these riots, please try doing so in groups.

Here’s first aid advice if you are hit by an acid attack.

If you’re a victim of an attack call the Police on 101 (to report a crime that has already happened i.e your car windows were smashed) or 999 if it’s an emergency/people are in danger.

If you’re on public transport and you’re a victim of an attack text the British Transport Police on 61016 with the train/underground you are in, what the next stop is and a brief description of the issue. Always call 999 if it’s an emergency.

If you or anyone you know needs health advice and it isn’t life threatening, call 111 or go on the 111 website.

I know some people are going out to defend their mosques, if you are take some form of head protection with you as at the past riot’s they have been throwing bricks.

If your mental health takes a turn for the worst you can call the Samaritans line on 116 123 and always call 999 if you feel you are unable to keep yourself from harm.

And finally, below is a list of charities you can contact if you feel you need further support or you would like to donate:

- Exit Hate: a charity set up to help people walk away from extremism. they also provide support for family members of extreme people.

- Stop Hate UK: 24 hour hate-crime reporting hotline

- Migrant Voice: a charity helping migrants advocate for themselves

- Refugee Action: helping refugees re-build their lives

#uk riots #please stay safe #far right riots #edl #islamophobia #uk

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med-fetish · 3 months ago

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Hello! Today I started playing with AI, this is what I came up with, I hope you enjoy it !

Isabelle was 26 years old when her life took an unexpected turn. Since childhood, she had always been an active and energetic woman. She loved running in the park, practicing yoga, and spending hours exploring the city with her friends. But everything changed one summer day when she began to feel a persistent pain in her right side. At first, she thought it was just a muscle strain, a consequence of her busy schedule and long hours at the gym.

However, the pain did not go away. After several medical consultations and tests, she received a devastating diagnosis: kidney cancer. The news hit her with overwhelming force. The idea of facing such a serious illness at her age was terrifying. Despite the tears and anguish, Isabelle gathered her courage and prepared for what lay ahead. She knew she had to undergo surgery to remove the affected kidney.

On the day of the operation, Isabelle arrived at the hospital with a mix of nerves and hope. She was greeted by a medical team that reassured her and prepared her for the procedure. In a private cubicle, she changed into a surgical gown, feeling the cold fabric against her skin. Clara, a kind nurse, placed a hair cap on her head and explained the importance of the compression stockings, which were put on her to aid circulation during the surgery. Despite her discomfort, Isabelle felt a bit more at ease.

When it was time for anesthesia, Dr. Martínez placed an intravenous line and explained that she would feel a little dizzy. As the medication took effect, Isabelle felt the world slowly fade away, leaving behind her worries. However, what no one expected was that the surgery would become complicated.

Hours passed, and the medical team realized that something was wrong. As the operation dragged on, a growing fear filled the operating room. Suddenly, alarms began to sound. Isabelle had gone into cardiac arrest. “She’s going into arrest!” shouted a nurse. In an instant, the room became a whirlwind of activity.

Dr. López, the lead surgeon, moved quickly, directing the team with precision. Dr. Martínez adjusted the anesthesia and administered emergency medications. Every second counted as the team fought to stabilize her. After several attempts, they finally managed to restore her pulse. The operating room, once filled with tension, was flooded with a sigh of relief.

With Isabelle’s heart beating again, the team continued the surgery, this time with renewed determination. Finally, after hours of hard work, Dr. López announced that they had finished. Isabelle was transferred to the recovery room, where she began to awaken. Her body felt heavy and confused, but the sound of the monitors reminded her that she had overcome a great battle.

As she regained consciousness, she found herself in a calm silence. When she opened her eyes, she saw a nurse approaching, who explained what had happened and assured her that she was okay. Over time, Isabelle began to understand what she had experienced. Although she had faced an overwhelming challenge, she had come through it.

Her recovery was a gradual process. With each passing day, her strength returned, along with her determination to live fully. She joined support groups, shared her experience on social media, and became a health advocate. Her story resonated with others facing similar situations, inspiring them to keep fighting.

A year after the surgery, Isabelle signed up for a charity 5K run, a goal she had set for herself before her diagnosis. On the morning of the race, she felt a mix of emotions. As she ran, each step reminded her of her struggle and the life she had regained. Crossing the finish line brought tears to her eyes, but this time they were tears of joy and gratitude. She had faced her fear and emerged victorious.

Isabelle had not only survived an illness; she had learned to live again, with a new perspective and a deep appreciation for each day. Her story became a testament to resilience, reminding others that even in the darkest moments, there is always a light at the end of the tunnel.

#medfet #surgery #anesthesia #intubation

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misshoneyimhome · 10 months ago

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would you be willing to do a Joseph Woll smut? maybe his girlfriend losing her virginity to him. i feel like he’d be so sweet and caring in the prep and aftercare but the next morning she’s craving joseph again

Well, of course, love! Although, I have to admit, I'm really not that great at first times, apparently - at least not in my opinion 🙈

I tried to keep to soft and romantic, but perhaps I made it too soft? 🤍

Anyway, I still hope it's enjoyable 🌺

Warnings; smut 18+; first-time, reader losing her virginity, fingering, protected sex (p in v);

Word count; 4K (it was not intended to be this long)

・✶ ｡ﾟ

The First Time | Jospeh Woll ⚡️🌺

Joseph Woll - Quite possibly the friendliest guy around, and he happened to be your boyfriend.

Being a tad older than you, you weren’t entirely sure why he'd opt to be with someone like yourself. Joe was a skilled hockey goalie, and with his genuine kindness, he could easily charm any young girl. Meanwhile, you were just a young woman trying to find your way through grown-up life.

Yet there he stood, Joseph Woll, with his gentle gaze and soft smile, choosing to be by your side. It had only been a few months since you officially became a couple, but it felt as though you'd known each other for an eternity. Every moment spent with him was brimming with joy, warmth, and a feeling of belonging.

You often found yourself pondering how lucky you were to have him in your life. He was more than just a hockey player; he was your confidante, your staunchest supporter, and your rock. And now, as you sensed your relationship blossoming, you couldn't help but wonder where this journey would take the two of you.

You’ met Joe in a charming café in Toronto, where the aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, and fate orchestrated a serendipitous meeting. With your arms burdened by books and papers, you stumbled clumsily, causing your belongings to scatter across the floor. And in the midst of this chaos, Joe emerged like a knight in shining amour, swiftly coming to your aid.

With a friendly smile and a gentle demeanour, he assisted in gathering your scattered possessions, his presence quelling the embarrassment that threatened to engulf you.

Handing back your books, a soft chuckle escaped his lips. "Looks like you could use a hand there," he remarked, his voice warm and comforting.

Blushing slightly, you nodded appreciatively. "Thanks, I'm usually not this clumsy though," you replied, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

He simply smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "No worries, happens to the best of us."

His smile was utterly captivating. His brown hair tousled just right by the occasional breeze from outside, and his prominent ears giving him an endearing and charming appearance.

"Well, thanks anyway," you said sweetly, but for a moment, neither of you seemed to step out of each other’s way.

Joe wasn’t entirely certain why he felt so drawn to your gentle manner, but a small part of him wished fervently that this moment with you could stretch on indefinitely. So instead of letting it fade, he chose to take a leap and prolong the conversation.

"So… you’re into pianos?" Joe suddenly inquired, his brows furrowing with curiosity as he glanced at one of your books.

“Oh, well, yeah, it’s kind of a New Year’s resolution, but I haven’t really managed to play much,” you admitted shyly.

“Well, I happen to play the piano myself, and I know quite a bit about it. If you don’t mind, I could join you for a drink and share some insights?” he proposed, indicating the empty seat opposite you.

"Sure, I'd like that," you replied, a touch of excitement fluttering in your chest.

And so, amidst cups of steaming coffee and shared laughter, your dialogue flowed effortlessly. From exchanging thoughts on your favourite books to swapping anecdotes from your lives, you found yourselves completely absorbed in each other's company, the hours slipping away unnoticed.

Joe had naturally been the most romantic gentleman when your relationship began. Following your initial meeting, he'd been nothing but considerate, arranging a proper date at a cosy, intimate restaurant. True to his gentlemanly nature, he picked you up and drove you home, focusing solely on engaging in heartfelt conversations and deepening your connection.

On subsequent dates, he whisked you away to museums, followed by more coffee outings. Then, on the fourth date, he extended a heartfelt invitation to his home to cook you dinner. He even serenaded you with a few tunes on his piano, creating an atmosphere straight out of a fairy tale.

His approach was unlike that of most men you'd encountered in recent years. They were typically the stereotypical frat boys, fond of getting drunk and hitting on young women, often resorting to groping. While many of your friends may have been drawn to such individuals, you shared no such inclination.

You preferred to keep to yourself, finding solace in the simple joys of curling up with a good book and savouring a cup of tea. And this suited Joe perfectly.

You weren't one to partake in wild nights out clubbing every weekend or engage in promiscuous behaviour. Instead, you possessed a depth that made you far more intriguing. Always composed and serene, you listened to Joe with a peaceful smile, your laughter like sweet melodies.

As weeks evolved into months and your bond with Joe grew deeper, you found yourself increasingly at ease and secure in his company. Yet, one aspect remained a source of insecurity for you. Though not entirely uncommon for someone your age, discussing the topic and admitting the truth still felt awkward: you were a virgin.

And aware of Joe's past relationships, you knew that he wasn't.

But what troubled you most was the longing to confide in him, even though you were unsure how to broach the subject. You had a strong feeling that Joe, being the kind-hearted person he was, would never judge you. The challenge lay in finding a way to mention it, as casually as possible.

You thought about the issue for some time. However, on your next date, where Joe had once again invited you over for homemade pasta and relaxed piano lessons, it seemed as though fate had decided the moment had arrived.

After enjoying the most simple and romantic dinner a man had ever prepared for you, you found yourselves nestled together on the sofa, your favourite TV show playing in the background.

On the third date, Joe had given you a quick peck as he escorted you to your door. And by the fourth date, your kisses had grown slightly deeper. However, tonight, you felt a longing for more – yet Joe, always respectful, was almost frustratingly so. You didn't want to come across as too eager, but as soon as his lips met yours, you were captivated and craving more than just a fleeting kiss.

And as you cuddled on the sofa, you found yourselves irresistibly drawn into each other's arms, sharing a sincere, passionate kiss. Your tongues danced in sync as you gently explored Joe's mouth, your fingers twined in his hair while he held you close.

He positioned himself half on top of you, mindful of his larger build, as your legs entwined with his. And it was then that you felt it. Through his thick jeans, you could feel his member growing firmer with the escalating intensity of the kiss, and suddenly, a new sensation enveloped you. Something you had only felt in solitude - a rush of desire.

Easing back a little, you broke the kiss, allowing both of you to catch your breath.

"Are you okay?" Joe asked tenderly, earning a slight nod from you. "So, what's on your mind?" he asked softly, locking his pleading gaze with yours.

Feeling a bit apprehensive about expressing your thoughts, yet also buoyed by a surge of confidence, you decided to speak up. After all, he must be thinking the same thing, judging by the noticeable bulge.

"Um, well…" you began slowly. "You... um... you're turned on?" you half inquired, half stated as gently as possible, not wanting to embarrass him. But Joe remained unruffled. Instead, he simply chuckled softly, briefly glancing down before returning his gaze to you.

"Oh yeah... sorry, I can't really help that, this um, this just feels really good," he admitted softly, a broad grin spreading across his face.

And you couldn't help but smile too. "It really does…"

There was a brief moment of comfortable silence as you pressed your lips together, maintaining eye contact with the man above you.

"Are you sure? I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable," Joe expressed once more, his concern and kindness shining through.

But you simply shook your head gently. "You're not… I just…" Once again, you hesitated for a moment before revealing your true desires. "I just haven’t… ever… done something," you softly admitted, feeling your cheeks slowly flush.

And once more, Joe offered nothing but a gentle smile. "y/n, you don’t have to feel embarrassed about being a virgin…"

His words eased your anxiety a little. "Really?"

"Of course not! Honestly, I can only respect that choice, y/n," Joe added tenderly. "Just promise me you'll tell me if I ever cross a line…"

"Oh Joe, you're not! And to be honest, I really do want… more… it's just… I don’t know how," you admitted once again, your voice barely above a whisper.

Joe remained silent for a moment, considering how to proceed. It was no secret he desired you; his body language spoke louder than words after all. Yet, the last thing he wanted was to make you feel pressured into something you didn't want.

"Well, if and when you're ready… I'd like to show you."

Joe had insisted on waiting a few days before taking things further, wanting to ensure you felt ready and not pressured. Which you had reassured him countless times. And finally, the night arrived when you would share your most intimate self with him.

You had naturally heard a lot from girlfriends, so you had some idea of what to expect, yet you couldn't help but feel a little nervous. You'd be completely naked, and Joe would touch your most private areas.

But of course, he had gone out of his way to make you feel at ease. With candlelight and soft piano tunes, he had set a comfortable atmosphere at his home, aiming to keep it romantic and gentle.

And he had succeeded. As soon as he gently took your hand and led you to the bedroom after a casual dinner, all sorts of anxiety washed away. He was nothing but sweet and caring. Guiding you to lie on the bed, he kissed you deeply, his hand gently cradling your face as your lips moved together. His tongue politely sought permission to enter, and you welcomed it eagerly.

You felt incredible under Joe's touch. The way he carefully moved his hands around your body, gently massaging you as he pulled you closer to him, felt nothing short of amazing.

And Joe took his time with you, making sure you felt at ease as he kept the kiss deep and passionate, gradually feeling himself becoming aroused too.

Then, breaking the kiss momentarily, his eyes locked onto yours. "Are you certain about this?" He asked softly, to which you gave him a sweet smile and nodded.

"Yes, Joe," you replied, your voice soft and tender, yet tinged with excitement. With your consent, Joe positioned himself between your legs, kneeling as he guided you to relax completely. His gaze remained fixed on you, ensuring he would notice any hint of discomfort.

Then, gently, he began to move his large palms up under your shirt, feeling your smooth skin against his soft hands, before he encouraged you to sit up slightly so he could pull your shirt over your head. As you sat with your breasts exposed in your lacy bra, carefully chosen for the occasion, Joe remembered to kiss you again.

Giving him a smile, you signalled for him to continue. Still with his lips on yours, he used his skilled fingers to unclasp your bra. Although it looked good on you, Joe wanted to feel your skin against his. Your breasts were perfectly round and your nipples hard, indicating your arousal. He then guided you to lie back down as he slowly moved his lips to your neck, placing gentle kisses while his hand massaged your breast.

"Does that feel nice?" Joe murmured against the sensitive skin of your neck, sending a delightful shiver through you.

"Y-yes," you muttered, feeling yourself yielding more and more to him.

"Good, just relax," he spoke tenderly, before shifting to the other side of your neck and attending to your other breast with his hands.

"Mmm," you softly moaned, surprising yourself as you melted into his touch.

Being with Joe was truly wonderful. Already, you felt remarkably at ease under his touch, and you almost couldn't wait for him to proceed further.

Yet he maintained a leisurely pace. With care, he withdrew his tantalising lips, moving to kneel beside you, before he located the button on your jeans with his fingers. Skilfully, he unfastened them and slowly pulled them down your legs, revealing your matching lacy underwear.

You felt a twinge of embarrassment at being so exposed to Joe, yet somehow, he made you feel comfortable, creating a calming atmosphere in the room.

Returning to your lips, he gently planted another kiss. "If it makes you more comfortable, you can slip under the covers while I undress," he suggested, his voice incredibly soothing. And with a soft nod, you complied, while he slowly undressed as well, revealing his erect member.

You couldn't help but gasp as you beheld his size, proudly standing against his lower torso. It appeared quite large to you, though lacking any real comparison. All you could ponder was how it would fit inside you, as you had only experimented with your fingers a few times, and they didn't even come close to his dimensions.

Joe seemed to sense your slight astonishment. "Don’t worry, I'll make sure you're comfortable," he reassured you, returning to the mattress and joining you under the covers, where he once again connected your lips in a tender kiss.

Gradually, you relaxed once more, his calm demeanour rubbing off on you with each passionate motion. And as Joe slowly moved to remove your final piece of fabric, exposing your heat to him, he broke the kiss, yet keeping his gaze fixed on you at all times. Carefully, he encircled his long fingers around your core, smoothing your skin as he inched closer to your sensitive flesh.

Then reconnecting your lips, he delicately trailed his fingers between your folds, gently caressing your sensitive bud and lightly probing your entrance. You released a small breath, briefly breaking the kiss, before resuming as you felt the pleasurable sensations he was inducing.

And only when Joe felt you were completely at ease did, he let his fingers tenderly stroke your clit, sending small sparks of pleasure through your body. Your hands instinctively reached for his hair, intensifying the kiss as you felt a new wave of excitement beginning to build.

"Does it feel good, sweetheart?" He whispered softly into the kiss, and all you could manage was to moan in response. "Good…"

Joe couldn't help but relish the way you lightly moaned and shifted under his touch. All he desired was to ensure he brought you pleasure, and from the way your fingers tangled in his hair, he took it as a positive sign.

Breaking the kiss once more, he pulled back to observe your expression while gently applying a little more pressure as he circled your clit. Then noticing your moans becoming more rapid and uninhibited, he sensed that you were experiencing the pleasure he aimed to provide you.

And indeed, you were. The knot in your lower abdomen tightened as Joe continued to tease your nerve endings, and soon you felt your legs trembling lightly, losing all sense of control. Your hands shifted to grip onto his shoulders as the intensity within you heightened, and soon you realised this must be what an orgasm felt like.

"Oh… Joe…" you softly moaned, closing your eyes tightly as he maintained a steady rhythm, bringing you closer to climax. "Yes…"

And before long, you felt a small spasm wash over your body, as you allowed yourself to succumb to the moment, your mind enveloped in a blissful haze.

Joe couldn't help but smile as he witnessed the pleasure, he was bringing you. "Did you enjoy that?" He chuckled lightly, though he already knew the answer, as he withdrew his fingers slightly.

"Yes," you simply breathed out as you slowly came down from your high.

There was a tender moment lingering, yet the air was thick with steamy desire. Then, with his eyes still locked onto yours, Joe slowly let his fingers slip further down, gently stroking your moist flesh as he approached your entrance. He studied your face, ensuring you still felt relaxed under his touch.

And when he noticed your controlled breathing, he slowly pressed a finger against your opening, gently pushing as he felt your tight walls around it.

“Mmm…” you moaned softly. Even with just one finger, it felt much better than anything you'd ever tried on your own.

And Joe felt rather satisfied with how well it was going, how wet you were, which had been part of his intention when bringing you to climax first. And as he observed your face showing small signs of pleasure, he slowly added a second finger, ensuring it felt good while also gently stretching you.

Despite feeling his own arousal building, his cock throbbing and slick with pre-cum, his primary focus was on your need. And as he felt your wetness coating his fingers, your walls tightening around his digits as he stimulated you, he thought that you might be ready for him soon.

Your fingers lightly dug into his shoulders as you savoured the pleasurable sensation of his fingers inside you. However, the more he massaged your insides, the more you yearned for him. Another small knot was slowly forming in your stomach once more, and now as you understood what it meant, you felt an even deeper desire to be satisfied.

“Joe…” you softly mumbled between moans. “Please, I want you…”

And your wish was his command. “Alright,” he whispered in your ear, before gently withdrawing his fingers from your core, leaving you feeling a bit empty, yet filled with anticipation.

Then kneeling back, he leaned over to the nightstand where he retrieved a condom packet, carefully tearing it open before sheathing himself. Your eyes followed his every move attentively, your core patiently waiting to be fulfilled.

Hovering over you once more, Joe positioned himself in missionary, his gaze still locked on you as he aligned himself with your entrance. “Let me know if it hurts,” he spoke firmly, earning a nod of confirmation from you. Your hands found their way to the back of his shoulders again, your eyes deeply connected with his as he slowly eased his length inside you.

“Oh… God…” you muttered under your breath as his member stretched your tight walls.

Joe felt nothing but pleasure as he filled you up, slowly reaching the very depths of your insides before he paused. Both of you needed a moment to catch your breath; you were overly stimulated, while Joe needed to exercise restraint. The sensation of you around his sensitive member was heavenly, and he felt a surge of pride being the first one you let in.

“I’m going to start moving, okay?” he softly inquired, earning another nod from you. And then very carefully, he withdrew a little before pushing back in, and then again, very slowly. Your nails almost dug into his skin as you felt the exquisite stimulation of his cock against your walls, your mind drifting into another blissful haze and your vision slowly blurring.

And Joe soon found a steady rhythm that brought you both pleasure, still slow and cautious as he didn’t want to overwhelm you. However, as your moans gradually grew louder with every thrust, he found it increasingly difficult to hold back. Gradually, he began to increase the pace, your wetness allowing him to slide in and out effortlessly.

“Mmmm… yes, oh…” he muttered under his breath as he rocked his hips against you, his cock throbbing with every motion. Similarly, you felt your core dripping and pulsating as he made love to you.

“Joe… Mmm… I think- I think I’m going to…” you couldn’t even finish your sentence as a rush of pleasure coursed through your mind, body, and soul, his length guiding you to another orgasm, your eyes closing as you surrendered to the euphoria once more.

Which only brought Joe closer to his own climax as your tight walls clenched around him, his pace picking up once more. He had to close his eyes as well as he felt himself about to reach the peak, and with a few more thrusts, he finally let out a deep grunt and surrendered to his climax.

“Oh yes…” he moaned loudly, allowing himself to thrust slowly and deeply a couple of times as he released into the latex.

There was another moment of silence as you both regained control of your breaths, your hearts beating faster as you slowly returned to reality from the euphoric state.

Pearls of sweat had formed on Joe’s forehead, his eyes opening again to meet yours in a romantic gaze.

“Was that alright?” he softly inquired with a crooked smile, and you couldn’t help but let out a small laugh.

“Joe, it was absolutely wonderful,” you flashed him a satisfied smile. And for another few seconds, you allowed yourselves to just enjoy the intimate moment.

“Good…” he returned your satisfied smile. “Just try to relax, sweetheart, and I’ll be right back,” he informed you with a soft tone before carefully withdrawing his length from your core. Offering him a nod, you watched as he walked to the bathroom to dispose of the condom.

And while he was cleaning himself up, you couldn’t help but feel a surge of happiness wash over you. Your mind still basking in bliss as you reflected on tonight and how sweet and gentle Joe had been, how understanding and caring he had shown himself to be.

It hadn’t been painful at all, contrary to what some of your friends had warned. Instead, Joe had taken his time to ensure you felt nothing but pleasure, even bringing you to your very first two orgasms.

As you lay there in the romantic yet passionate ambiance, a smile played on your lips. And as Joe returned to the bed, he wore an equally contented smile, a damp cloth in his hand, which he delicately used to help you clean your juices from between your legs.

It was nothing short of an amazing evening, the way Joseph helped you explore your own body and desires, followed by him offering you a t-shirt to sleep in and whispering sweet nothings as you simply lay in his embrace. You chatted for a brief while, both of you wearing broad smiles, as he tenderly caressed every inch of your body, still ensuring you felt relaxed and comfortable even after making love. And as satisfaction filled your mind and body, tiredness descended upon you both, and gradually you drifted off to sleep in each other’s warm embrace.

As morning slowly crept in, you still felt a lingering sense of pleasure in your core. And what made your early smile widen even more was waking up spooning with Joe, his large frame enveloping you, while his morning wood pressed against your back.

And sensing your slight movements, Joe also slowly stirred from his slumber.

“Morning,” he softly murmured into your hair, planting a gentle kiss as he held you close.

“Morning,” you replied with a husky morning voice, before turning around in his arms, your tired gaze meeting his.

“Did you sleep well?”

“Oh, I think we both know I slept wonderfully,” you let out a light chuckle. “How about you?”

“Hmm, I slept well too, especially with you in my arms…”

You couldn’t help but smile as your eyes remained locked. “Did you have any… uhm, dreams about me?” you inquired, slightly mischievously.

“Hmm, not specifically,” Joe chuckled lightly, propping his head on his elbow. “Why?”

“Oh, well then you must just be really happy to have me here…” you teased sweetly, hinting at his once again firm member tucked away in his boxers.

“Yeah, that’s kind of normal,” he chuckled again. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not happy to have you here,” he added, smiling before leaning in for a tender kiss.

“Hmm,” you hummed into the kiss before pulling back slightly, your mind filled with desire for the man lying beside you. “Well… maybe… it deserves a little attention…” you sweetly suggested.

“Oh, you're already up for round two?” Joe grinned playfully, pulling you a little closer to his warm body.

“Maybe…” you admitted softly. “I guess it was just that good…”

And Joe couldn’t exactly disagree with you. Flashing you a flirtatious smile, he then kissed you again, this time in a deeper and more passionate manner, before pulling apart.

“Well, then I guess I shouldn’t keep you waiting, miss,” he said with a smile before attending to your desires with a playful chuckle.

#my asks #18+ smut #joseph woll smut #joseph woll imagine #toronto maple leafs imagine #nhl hockey imagine

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girlactionfigure · 5 months ago

Text

🧵𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝: 𝐖𝐡𝐨 𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐉𝐞𝐰𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐈𝐬𝐫𝐚𝐞𝐥 𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐭? 𝐒𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐀𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐭: 𝐈𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐬𝐧’𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐀𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐬.

Enough is enough, Let’s set the record straight: the claim that Arabs welcomed Jews to Israel after the Holocaust is a false narrative and just a lie. The reality is that it's a much more complex and challenging history. Here’s a comprehensive look at the real dynamics of Jewish immigration and the reception in Israel.

1/ An Ancient Bond: Jews and the Land of Israel.

Let me first say that The idea that Jews arrived in Israel only as Holocaust refugees disregards their ancient and continuous connection to the land. Jews have maintained a consistent presence in Israel for thousands of years, documented in ancient texts and archaeological findings. Cities like Jerusalem, Hebron, and Safed were significant centers of Jewish life long before the 20th century. This deep-rooted connection shows the significance of Israel to the Jewish people throughout history.

2/ The status of Israel in the 1880s

By the 1880s, when the First Aliyah began, Israel was largely neglected and in disrepair. The region suffered from economic stagnation, sparse infrastructure, and minimal habitation. Many areas were desolate, with abandoned villages and a general lack of modern amenities. Public health conditions were dire, with widespread malaria and typhoid fever, and there was a severe shortage of medical facilities and basic health care. The land had been left in a state of neglect by previous rulers and local inhabitants, who had not invested in its development.

3/ The Transformation by Jewish Immigration.

Jewish immigrants arriving in the 1880s faced severe conditions but undertook significant efforts to transform the land. They joined the local Jewish community and they established agricultural settlements, drained swamps, and developed irrigation systems, turning barren land into productive farmland. New towns and cities emerged, such as Tel Aviv, which started as a small neighborhood and grew into a bustling urban center. Their work laid the foundation for the modern state of Israel, significantly enhancing living conditions and infrastructure.

4/ Hostility from Local Arab Populations.

Despite the historical presence of Jews, the arrival of Jewish immigrants in the late 19th and early 20th centuries was met with increasing hostility from local Arabs. Many of these Arabs, who began migrating to Israel around the same time as the First Aliyah, viewed the Jewish newcomers with growing animosity. This hostility manifested in violent confrontations and revolts, such as the 1929 Hebron massacre, where 67 Jews were killed, and the Arab revolt from 1936 to 1939, which targeted Jewish settlements and British authorities. This resistance reflects the significant opposition Jews faced, contrary to claims of a warm welcome.

5/ The Arab Mufti’s Alliance with Nazi Germany.

The situation grew more complex during World War II. Haj Amin al-Husseini, the Grand Mufti of Jerusalem, sought an alliance with Nazi Germany. In 1941, he met with Adolf Hitler, offering support for the Nazi regime and advocating for anti-Jewish policies in Palestine. This collaboration proves again the intense hostility Arab leaders had towards Jews and their aspirations, complicating the notion of Arab support for Jewish migration.

6/ The Efforts of Local Jews to Aid Holocaust Survivors

In stark contrast to the hostility faced, local Jewish communities in Palestine went to extraordinary lengths to assist Holocaust survivors. As the horrors of the Holocaust became known, Jewish organizations in Israel, including the Jewish Agency and various relief committees, worked tirelessly to find refuge for survivors. They orchestrated complicated immigration operations, known as Aliyah Bet, to bypass British restrictions and bring Jews to Israel. The efforts of these local Jewish organizations were instrumental in providing sanctuary and rebuilding lives.

7/ The Birth of modern Israel and the 1948 War.

The Holocaust heightened the urgency for a Jewish homeland. Despite restrictive British immigration policies, many Jews found refuge in Israel. The establishment of the modern State of Israel in 1948 was met with fierce opposition from neighboring Arab countries, who rejected the creation of a Jewish state. This rejection led to the Arab-Israeli War of 1948, driven by the refusal to accept a Jewish state and resulting in significant losses for the Arab forces.

8/ Displacement and Historical Complexity.

The narrative that Jews “took away” Arab land oversimplifies a complex situation. The land of Israel has always been home to a diverse population, including Jews, Muslims, and Christians. The 1948 war and subsequent conflicts led to significant displacement on both sides, including the expulsion of Jews from Arab countries and the creation of Palestinian refugees. This complexity reflects a turbulent history rather than a simple story of land grabbing.

9/ Refuting the “Jews Left” Myth.

The claim that Jews left Israel and returned only after the Holocaust is misleading. The fluctuating Jewish population in Israel over the years does not negate the fact that Jews have consistently maintained a presence there. The migration waves of the 1880s and 1920s demonstrate a profound connection to the land, driven by historical and spiritual significance, not by temporary circumstances.

Saying that Jews left Israel and came back only after the Holocaust is like saying that pasta isn’t Italian because there was a shortage in the 1930s. The essence of our connection to the land has remained unbroken, despite periods of challenge and fluctuation. Just as Italian cuisine remains Italian regardless of temporary shortages, the historical and spiritual bond of Jews to Israel endures despite the changing dynamics over time.

11/ Conclusion: Resilience Through Truth

The ongoing attempts to distort, manipulate, or deny Jewish heritage and historical facts only serve to strengthen our resolve and unity. No one welcomed us to Israel after the Holocaust but the local Jewish community, who worked tirelessly to provide refuge and rebuild lives. Despite the efforts to alter or obscure these historical truths, they remain steadfast and undeniable.

We will not let you change our history. No matter how much people try to change this fact, it won’t work. Throughout history, countless attempts have been made to erase or undermine the Jewish people, and each time, these efforts have failed. Today, with a strong and thriving State of Israel, it is not only misguided but delusional to believe that such attempts can succeed. The more history is challenged or distorted, the closer and stronger we become as a people. Our connection to the land, our historical narrative, and our cultural identity are deeply ingrained and resilient, reinforcing our unbreakable bond to the land and our unwavering strength as a nation.

@AP_from_NY

#Israel #Jews #History #Truth

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