#I actually got pneumonia once doing this

[infiniteglitterfall]

know someone who enjoys horror stories? share this one! it's true!

hahahahahahahahahaha aarrggghhhhhhhhhh 3,000,000 deaths due to COVID-19 last year. Globally. Three million. Case rates higher than 90% of the rest of the pandemic. The reason people are still worried about COVID is because it has a way of quietly fucking up your body. And the risk is cumulative.

I'm going to say that again: the risk is cumulative.

It's not just that a lot of people get bad long-term effects from it. One in seven or so? Enough that it's kind of the Russian Roulette of diseases. It's also that the more times you get it, the higher that risk becomes. Like if each time you survived Russian Roulette, the empty chamber was removed from the gun entirely. The worst part is that, psychologically, we have the absolute opposite reaction. If we survive something with no ill effects, we assume it's pretty safe. It is really, really hard to override that sense of, "Ok, well, I got it and now I probably have a lot of immunity and also it wasn't that bad." It is not a respiratory disease. Airborne, yes. Respiratory disease, no: not a cold, not a flu, not RSV.

Like measles (or maybe chickenpox?), it starts with respiratory symptoms. And then it moves to other parts of your body. It seems to target the lungs, the digestive system, the heart, and the brain the most.

It also hits the immune system really hard - a lot of people are suddenly more susceptible to completely unrelated viruses. People get brain fog, migraines, forget things they used to know.

(I really, really hate that it can cross the blood-brain barrier. NOTHING SHOULD EVER CROSS THE BLOOD-BRAIN BARRIER IT IS THERE FOR A REASON.) Anecdotal examples of this shit are horrifying. I've seen people talk about coworkers who've had COVID five or more times, and now their work... just often doesn't make sense? They send emails that say things like, "Sorry, I didn't mean Los Angeles, I meant Los Angeles."

Or they insist they've never heard of some project that they were actually in charge of a year or two before.

Or their work is just kind of falling apart, and they don't seem to be aware of it.

People talk about how they don't want to get the person in trouble, so their team just works around it. Or they describe neighbors and relatives who had COVID repeatedly, were nearly hospitalized, talked about how incredibly sick they felt at the time... and now swear they've only had it once and it wasn't bad, they barely even noticed it.

(As someone who lived with severe dissociation for most of my life, this is a genuinely terrifying idea to me. I've already spent my whole life being like, "but what if I told them that already? but what if I did do that? what if that did happen to me and I just don't remember?") One of its known effects in the brain is to increase impulsivity and risk-taking, which is real fucking convenient honestly. What a fantastic fucking mutation. So happy for it on that one. Yes, please make it seem less important to wear a mask and get vaccinated. I'm not screaming internally at all now.

I saw a tweet from someone last year whose family hadn't had COVID yet, who were still masking in public, including school.

She said that her son was no kind of an athlete. Solidly bottom middle of the pack in gym.

And suddenly, this year, he was absolutely blowing past all the other kids who had to run the mile. He wasn't running any faster. His times weren't fantastic or anything. It's just that the rest of the kids were worse than him now. For some reason. I think about that a lot. (Like my incredibly active six-year-old getting a cold, and suddenly developing post-viral asthma that looked like pneumonia.

He went back to school the day before yesterday, after being home for a month and using preventative inhalers for almost week.

He told me that it was GREAT - except that he couldn't run as much at recess, because he immediately got really tired. Like how I went outside with him to do some yard work and felt like my body couldn't figure out how to increase breathing and heart rate.

I wasn't physically out of breath, but I felt like I was out of breath. That COVID feeling people describe, of "I'm not getting enough air." Except that I didn't have that problem when I had COVID.) Some people don't observe any long (or medium) term side effects after they have it.

But researchers have found viral reservoirs of COVID-19 in everyone they've studied who had it.

It just seems to hang out, dormant, for... well, longer than we've had an opportunity to observe it, so far.

(I definitely watched that literal horror movie. I think that's an entire genre. The alien dormant under ice in the Arctic.)

(oh hey I don't like that either!!!!!!!!!) All of which is to explain why we should still care about avoiding it, and how it manages to still cause excess deaths. Measuring excess deaths has been a standard tool in public health for a long time.

We know how many people usually die from all different causes, every year. So we can tell if, for example, deaths from heart disease have gone way up in the past three years, and look for reasons. Those are excess deaths: deaths that, four years ago, would not have happened. During the pandemic, excess death rates have been a really important tool. For all sorts of reasons. Like, sometimes people die from COVID without ever getting tested, and the official cause is listed as something else because nobody knows they had COVID. But also, people are dying from cardiovascular illness much younger now.

People are having strokes and heart attacks younger, and more often, than they did before the pandemic started. COVID causes a lot of problems. And some of those problems kill people. And some of them make it easier for other things to kill us. Lung damage from COVID leading to lungs collapsing, or to pneumonia, or to a pulmonary embolism, for example. The Economist built a machine-learning model with a 95% confidence interval that gauges excess death statistics around the world, to tell them what the true toll of the ongoing COVID pandemic has been so far.

Total excess deaths globally in 2023: Three million.

3,000,000.

Official COVID-19 deaths globally so far: Seven million. 7,000,000. Total excess deaths during COVID so far: Thirty-five point two million. 35,200,000.

Five times as many.

That's bad. I don't like that at all. I'm glad last year was less than a tenth of that. I'm not particularly confident about that continuing, though, because last year we started a period of really high COVID transmission. Case rates higher than 90% of the rest of the pandemic. Here's their data, and charts you can play with, and links to detailed information on how they did all of this:

Here's a non-paywalled link to it:

https://archive.vn/2024.01.26-012536/https://www.economist.com/graphic-detail/coronavirus-excess-deaths-estimates

Oh: here's a link to where you can buy comfy, effective N95 masks in all sizes:

Those ones are about a buck each after shipping - about $30 for a box of 30. They also have sample packs for a dollar, so you can try a couple of different sizes and styles.

You can wear an N95 mask for about 40 total hours before the effectiveness really drops, so that's like a dollar for a week of wear.

They're also family-owned and have cat-shaped masks and I really love them. These ones are cuter and in a much wider range of colors, prints, and styles, but they're also more expensive; they range from $1.80 to $3 for a mask. ($18-$30 for a box of ten.)

[fromdove]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ⁞ 𝓓ICK 𝓖RAYSON ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ𝓦HEN 𝓗E'S 𝓘N 𝓛OVE 𝓗EADCANONS !

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ୨୧

— dick grayson when he's in love hcs ᵎᵎ ⊹ ࣪ ˖

— dick grayson x fem!reader ᵎᵎ ⊹ ࣪ ˖

— count how many times I said "like"..... ⊹ ࣪ ˖

© fromdove— All rights reserved. Reposting, translation, or modification of these works is strictly prohibited, regardless of whether credit is given.

∿　 　 . `💭` ㆍ

⤷ he teases you a lot. like. annoying. if you mispronounce a word one (1) time you will never hear the end of it. he’ll bring it up three weeks later like “remember when you said ‘sherbert’ instead of ‘sherbet’ lol dumbass” and you’re like i know where you sleep

⤷ he likes watching you do mundane things. like tying your shoes. or flipping pages. or brushing your teeth. “you always do that little pause before you spit. it’s cute.” <- what are you even supposed to do with that.

⤷ will Not. let you walk on the curb side of the street. ever. like you’ll try and he’ll do that quiet sidestep-switch like no. no. i’m the buffer between you and the world. get behind me baby i’m trained in 47 types of combat

⤷ you sneeze once. ONCE. uno. one. 1 !!!! time. and suddenly he’s Googling “early signs of pneumonia” and wrapping you in three blankets like you’re in an igloo.

⤷ he’s not subtle. not even a little. he’s grinning all the time. like you’re his little secret. except you’re not. because everyone knows. because he talks about you constantly and doesn’t realise it. like someone asks “what do you think of this sandwich place?” and he’s like “oh my partner hates pickles” and you’re like. ok???? who asked???????

⤷ texts like. really badly. "on my way" / "u good?" / "?" / “home safe?” / “did you eat?” / “also here’s a stray cat i found near the precinct it made me think of you bc it was mean but cute”. no punctuation. and then sends you a 3-paragraph message about a book from the 70s that reminded him of you.

⤷ one time you got a papercut and he ACTUALLY KISSED YOUR FINGER. like what is this. a 2003 romcom. who does that. you let him anyway.

⤷ dates are like. chaotic. they range. they VARY. he’ll plan them so carefully and then forget the address. it goes from him taking you rooftop dancing at 2am (he knows the security guard don’t ask). to the fanciest more expensive restaurants. or sometimes its the most random places...like why are we eating cold dumplings on a fire escape at midnight. why am i in your lap. why is this perfect. why r u dancing on the rooftop. pls. i just wanted to eat. it could also be you two literally brushing teeth side by side in pajamas while he talks about some city ordinance that made him mad.

⤷ also he’s like. a hand holder. all the time. especially in crowds. “just so i don’t lose you” ok liar you just like touching me.

⤷ he’s sooooooooooo good with kids it’s disgusting. like you’ll be walking past a playground and suddenly he’s in a full game of tag with a bunch of eight-year-olds like??? ok??? and you’re sitting there like is this what being in love feels like???????? have my babies then??????????

⤷ he gets nervous when you meet bruce. he acts like he doesn’t care but he’s standing straighter. fixing your collar. whispering “you got this”. like. dude. broski. seems like you need that advice a little more than me..

⤷ he brings you little things all the time. dumb things. a keychain. a sticker. he's gotten u a mug that says “i like my boyfriends like i like my coffee: hot and ready to fight crime”. he's like "that describes me perfectly babe!" ok..... just say ur inlove w/urself..

⤷ he loves when you wear his shirts. he pretends to be chill but he deflates when he sees it. “is that mine?” yes dick. it says “haley’s circus” on it. and it smells like crime fighting and your conditioner now. congrats. he’s 70% more handsy. 30% more cuddly. 100% ferocious internally. his caveman brain is like “MINE.”

⤷ he has like. six nicknames for you. three of them are variations of “birdie” and one of them is “hey trouble” and he says it with that little lopsided grin and you melt and throw a pillow at him and he catches it with one hand

⤷ he’s like. stupidly in love. and he’ll kiss your hand when he’s driving. and you’re like. eyes on the road. and he’s like. “i have great reflexes” and you’re like. great. that’s not the point.

⤷ he talks in his sleep. sometimes it’s mission stuff. sometimes it’s your name. once he said “alfred please no more soup” and you almost peed yourself laughing. he was so embarrassed. you bring it up constantly.

⤷ when he’s gone for patrol or a mission longer than expected he always texts. even if it’s just “still alive. miss u. criminals suck.”

⤷ he’s not flashy. but he’s intense. he listens. remembers everything. “didn’t you say you liked this song in april?” yes he has a playlist. yes it’s called “her smile > gotham skyline”

⤷ he acts like you’re a little miracle. like he can’t believe you’re real. he’ll just stare at you sometimes and blink slow like a cat and say “i love you” like it’s a confession every time.

⤷ he’ll tease you but only about dumb things. like how you sometimes stutter when you ramble or how you always leave the cap off the toothpaste. and then he’ll fix it. quietly. every time.

⤷ when he introduces you to his friends. he’s like. so soft. “this is my person. be nice. or i’ll beat you up. lovingly.”

⤷ you catch him looking at you all dreamy sometimes and he just goes “what?” and shrugs and kisses your forehead like it’s no big deal that he’s in constant awe of you

⤷ he’s in love like it’s easy. like it’s gravity. like he’s spent his whole life falling and you’re the first place that ever felt like landing.

⤷ you ask him to hang out and he’s like yeah yeah ofc and then five minutes later you’re on his bike and he's like “is gotham cold or am i crazy” and you're just clinging to him like a lil barnacle while the skyline blurs. he's only thinking about how soft your hands are on his stomach

⤷ he sends you memes. like. actually. they’re dumb. sometimes Nightwing fan edits. he pretends he doesn’t know you know. “someone sent me this” like ok babe sure. "someone" aka your own saved folder. keep lying

⤷ in love dick is like. chaotic neutral trying to be lawful good. he’ll pick you up from school or work and you’re like “you didn’t have to” and he goes “i know” but he’s there every time

⤷ he does this thing where he’ll lean on the counter while you talk. like hand-under-chin. dumb lil smile. he’s not even listening fully sometimes. he’s just watching you like you’re a painting in a gallery he’s been to before but still finds new details in. annoying. beautiful. criminal

⤷ if you’re sleeping over he’s sleeping on the edge of the bed because he moves like a windmill and he’s afraid he’ll knock you out mid-dream. but by morning you’re tangled. always. no exceptions

⤷ ok so. gifts. random. weird. he once gave you a grappling hook keychain and was so smug about it. “just in case you need a quick escape.” sir. from where. my bedroom??

⤷ he talks about you to everyone. not in a gross bragging way. in a like. “yeah (y/n) helped me pick this” or “(y/n) said i’d like this song” or “you’d like them. they’re really funny. and smart. and good. and like. they’re just. yeah.” and then changes the subject aggressively

⤷ he will NEVER say no to you playing with his hair. he’ll act like it’s not a big deal but if you stop he’ll be like “wait. you were doing the— you were playing with my hair—”

⤷ he's the type to check the exits wherever you go but also brings you gum and hand sanitizer like the world's most traumatised dad

⤷ sometimes he zones out while you're talking and you're like hello?? and he's just like “you looked really happy. i wanted to remember it.” AND THEN HE HAS THE NERVE TO SHRUG. ok poetic boy

⤷ he gets weirdly possessive but like. silently. if someone flirts with you at a party he’ll just kind of materialise next to you like “hey babe” and put his arm around you like hello yes i am six feet of jealousy wrapped in kevlar

⤷ he will not admit he cried over you once (more than once, lets be real). even though it’s obvious. even though jason literally heard him sniffling in the batcave. it’s fine. let him pretend

⤷ when you’re upset he gets quiet. not cold. just. steady. he listens. he doesn’t try to fix it unless you ask. he sits next to you and holds your hand and says “i’m here.” and he is. fully. always.

⤷ he’s got scars on scars but he lets you trace them. tells you the stories if you want. lies about the ones he’s not ready to talk about. it’s ok. you know. you wait

⤷ love makes him dumb. he does pushups with you sitting on his back. buys your favorite snacks in bulk. lets you paint his nails and then goes on patrol with them like it’s normal (it is)

⤷ he teaches you how to do flips. or tries. and then laughs when you fall. but then also kisses your scraped elbow like “my bad babe” with zero actual remorse. “you’ll get it next time” he says while still laughing. he’s sososososo annoying. you love him.

⤷ wears your hair tie on his wrist like it’s part of his uniform. you say nothing. he says nothing. but it’s always there.

⤷ teaches you escrima if you ask. but only if you promise not to make fun of the sticks. you make fun of the sticks anyway. he fake pouts. you kiss him mid-fight. he drops one stick. it’s fine.

⤷ carries a picture of you in his wallet and pretends he doesn’t. you find it once and he tries to act like it’s no big deal. “whatever. you look cute. move on.”

⤷ he thinks he's subtle. he's not. the whole batfamily knows. jason makes fun of him. damian gags. tim just leaves the room. bruce is like “don’t get distracted” and dick is like “yes sir 🫡” while actively distracted.

⤷ picks at your food. then acts shocked when you do the same. “you said you weren’t hungry??” yeah ok YOU said you weren’t emotionally available dick now look at us. hypocrites in love.

⤷ gives you nicknames like “hotshot” or “trouble” and then blushes when you call him anything. “dork” makes him literally malfunction. he pretends to be offended but smiles when you’re not looking.

⤷ gets quiet when you’re sad. like real quiet. sits next to you and just waits. doesn’t force you to talk. but if you do talk—he listens. like really listens. remembers every word. brings it up months later. “you said this place makes you feel calm” oh so you remember that ok

⤷ he’s so annoying. in the best way. like. the type of annoying that makes you blush and kick your feet and want to punch a wall. his wall specifically.

⤷ he’s all casual flirty with everyone right?? but when he’s in love with you??? he turns tender. like terrifyingly tender. it’s like he’s trying not to break you by looking too hard. like eye contact might detonate you. but i mean. either way. he still stares at you hard. even when trying not to.

⤷ he does the “can you sit with me while i do paperwork” thing. like you’re a cat. like he just wants you in proximity while he suffers.

⤷ he picks up food for you without asking. every time. "thought you might be hungry." no baby you knew. we have a soul connection. you felt my hunger. don’t play with me

⤷ he touches your back when you cross streets. lets you walk on the inside of the sidewalk. opens the door even when you argue. says "just let me take care of you a little." & now you’re sobbing in the CVS skincare aisle. congrats.

⤷ he lets you braid his hair when it gets too long. he pretends to hate it. you both know he’s lying.

⤷ if you're tired? he's pulling you into his lap before you can blink. he’s like “you rest. i got it.” you don’t even know what “it” is. but he’s got it. apparently.

⤷ "you don't have to do everything alone anymore." <- said in a whisper. at 1:47am. when you tried to sneak out so he wouldn't see you cry. yeah. he saw. and now you're in his arms and he's not letting go until morning.

⤷ when he's in love he’s... warm. like that kind of warm that feels like sunshine on a cold day. or like a bath that runs the perfect temperature.

⤷ he remembers everything. like that one time you said you liked strawberry twizzlers?? there's a pack in your glovebox now. he swears he didn’t put it there. liar.

⤷ you call him in the middle of the night because you had a bad dream and he’s like “i’m coming over” and then he’s actually there. barefoot. in sweatpants. holding two mugs and looking worried

⤷ he loves all of you. not just the good stuff. he loves the mess. the overthinking. the crying. the way you squeak when you laugh. he calls it “his favorite sound.”

⤷ every time you fight. he comes back. every time. he won’t let you sleep mad. he’ll wait on your fire escape all night if he has to. says “i’m not leaving until we’re okay. even if you throw something at me.”

⤷ once tried to not fall in love with you. failed.

[gallusrostromegalus]

hi i see that you have much smart dog experience. i may have accidentally purchased such a dog. she's only 10 weeks, and ive had her 1, and she's already outmatched every puzzle feeder i got or have made. to the point that she is morosely disappointed when her food comes in an actual food bowl. do you know where i can find like. "heres 100 enrichment toys you can make out of free trash so your dog stops eating fucking rocks for enrichment" lists. i only have so many paper towel tubes XD

Herschel now just disassembles puzzle feeders, so I've been focusing on "Toys that, even if he already knows how to operate them, will still take TIME for him to collect the treat from" to give him something to fuss with.

Herschel eats all his meals out of a Kong Wobbler, because he will otherwise eat so fast he will literally inhale and choke on his kibble and I do not need him developing pneumonia from aspiration. Even though it's a "Simple" toy it slows him down and he does have to think a bit to tip it in the most efficient manner possible. Kong's "Flipz", "Gyro" and "Rewards Wally" are also really good "dog needs to think/carefully manipulate the toy for food" toys that act as both mental stimulation and exercise and "give human a break for up to twelve minutes" toys.

I highly reccomend KONG as a brand- they're local to Denver and have an impeccable saftey record and all of the toys I have gotten from them have held up extremely well vs. the ravages of three entirely too smart and strong-jawed dogs at once.

Some more thoughts:

If she's not prone to shredding rubber, the kind of treat toys she has to chew are also good stimulation.

If you don't want to give her That Many treats, my vet said that dogs can have as many green beans as they want. Just make sure that the beans haven't had salt added to them- canned usually does, but frozen green beans usually don't, but always check the label.

You can make nearly any toy last longer, or make a cheap long-puzzle by freezing the treats so they take longer to eat AND provides hydration. Herschel's most favorite treat of all time is literally a wad of sliced green beans in a dixie cup, filled with water and frozen. Just peel off the cup and hand him the chunk of ice and he's good for up to half an hour and more chill afterwards.

You can also freeze lick mats

If your girl is like Charlie and doesn't like greenbeans, you can also try freezing paper cups of: Canned pumpkin, apple slices in water, putting some ice cubes in the bottom of the cup, a gob of peanut butter in the middle and then fill it with water to make a peanutbutter filled ice cube.

If your girl is REALLY like charlie who has figured out how to use labor negotiation and strike tactics for better treats: boiled chicken chunks frozen in some of the water you boiled them in.

Walkies are as much mental stimulation as they are physical exercise. Take her out and let her sniff to her heart's content.

Also Puppies in particular need like, SO MUCH exercise.

Let her participate in activities with you. Herschel and charlie sit in the kitchen and I narrate cooking dinner to them, which seems to interest them, even if I don't have spare veggie ends to give them. I also frequently bring them along in the car if I'm running errands when it's cold enough to do that, so they have something new to look at, and get to participate. I also am more likely to stop at a new park and give myself some exercise and mental stimulation.

Training her to do tasks is GREAT Smart Dog enrichment- esp if she's a herding or heeler, they LOVE being helpful. I taught the dogs they get a small treat if they come in from the yard without me having to go chase them down, which saved me a lot of hassle, and now I'm working on teaching herschel to pick things up off the floor for me if I drop them and alert for chickpeas, which my housemate is allergic to.

A lot of dogs like cat-type toys. Tie a stick or some fleece to some paracord and drag or flycast it around for her to chase/play tug with when she catches it. Toys that bounce unexpectedly were also a huge hit. or just wave the string around the cat and the corgi both like that.

If you live in farm country or know other people with pets, you can grab something with the scent of another animal on it and bring it home for her to smell. Charlie and Herschel spent the better part of three days investigating the wad of horse undercoat I brought home and put in the spare wobbler for them to smell.

[that-girl-from-nicu]

Saving the Saviour - Part 1

Don't be late

Song for this fic: "Baby" - Robert Bradley's Blackwater Surprise. (Robbys GOAT song - the only song in the actual TV show. Smooth, needing, melodic in a way that soothes everything. Just so happens the lyrics align with this first part which was a happy accident that I'm stoked with)

My first and maybe my only post. Be kind. I'm not good with the editing, which will become obvious. Fun to write tho.

NSFW. 18+

Warnings: medical jargon because the pitt and I'm a NICU nurse. Premature birth (25 weeks). Near death pregnancy experience mentioned. CPR. Emergency perimortem caesarean. Bit of angst. Mutual pining at first glance. Lots of flirting. $ex. F!ngering. Coffee (not in that order, caffeination before masturbation y'all). Consent (gained x100000 because he's Robby). Fluff I think? She's wordy and a little bit dorky. Hopefully compelling idk

Scene: 3 years prior to current day. Fem reader is a NICU nurse and meets Robby in the ER for a premature delivery. Sparks ignite and the end up having a rootin tooting good time later that night and (spoiler alert) forever.

You'd met Robby in the only way anyone ever meets Robby; trauma. It was three years ago, on a warm tuesday morning in July.

As you sat by the bedside of your tiny NICU patient, expertly responding to their needs with your attention to detail, your phone rang.

"It's Dana, down in the Pitt. We've got a 25 week mom coming in, in cardiac arrest. Covid positive. Setting up for a peri-mortem cesar on arrival. Can you come down? Trauma Bay 2. ETA 7 minutes". Dana sounded not so calm, a contrast to her normal nonchalant, chill AF, work mom voice. ER staff are terrified by newborns, moreso by preemies.

"Be there in 90 seconds, chica", you replied.

"You're a doll". You could hear the relief in her voice as she hung up.

You grabbed a micro-preemie birth pack and the emergency kit, and started sprinting down the corridor to the stairwell. Each floor took just a matter of seconds to descend.

Pushing your way through the glass doors to the emergency room, you made a bee line for Trauma Bay 2. Dana had placed an infant resuscitation cot in the corner and you immediately got to work, propping your equipment strategically and warming the mattress. Donned your PPE. ETA was now 3 minutes, just enough time to draw up doses of adrenaline and saline. You were ready for the baby.

The silence in Trauma Bay 2 was broken but the whoosh of the curtain being drawn. A tall, intimidating man caught your eye as he entered. His presence was commanding.

He started talking while you assessed him, his eyes fixed on you. "NICU?" He asked with raised eyebrows.

"Yep. Set up and ready to rock" you said, with an awkward thumbs up. Why you are the way you are, nobody knows.

You saw a boyish smile in his eyes at your gesture. It caught you by surprise.

"Okay, listen up" he started, as a team of nurses and junior filled the room.

"34 year old woman, 25 weeks pregnant, 3rd baby, 2 prior cesareans. Covid pneumonia at home. Cardiac arrest of unknown cause. She's had 3 rounds of epi and continuous chest compressions for the last 30 minutes. Once she gets in here, if she doesn't have return of spontaneous circulation we will proceed immediately to a peri-mortem caesarean. Santos, tell me the purpose of a Perimortem cesar..."

Dr Santos immediately spoke. "To reduce the physiological burden on the mothers body. Baby's neurological condition is unknown; mom may well return to pre-arrest cognition with proper treatment. Always save mom first. May need a resuscitative hysterectomy if there's..."

The tall doctor cuts her off. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves. But yes, if there is unacceptable blood loss, we may".

He paused, looking at you. He gestures over to you leaning against the wall.

"This right here is todays likely hero," he scanned your badge with his brown eyes through rounded frames. "She's NICU and she's going to save this baby. Do not, under any circumstances touch her patient. Do not touch her things. Do not interrupt her. Don't even look at the baby unless she says you can. She CAN and WILL bite you. Right? You bite, right?"

Your cheeks flushed with heat, and you weren't entirely sure why.

"Uh, yes." You searched his badge for a name. Michael Robinavich. "Thankyou Dr Robinavich. Happy to educate as I go but please don't touch. And yes, i bite", you let out half a laugh and rolled your eyes. You're not sure to this day why people are terrified of NICU nurses, but if it makes them leave you alone while you work, you don't question it.

"Call me Dr Robby". That heat in your cheeks again, now felt in your belly.

With his PPE on, you could only tell so much about this man's appearance. Tall. Broad shoulders, a little rounded. Eyes like two pools of dark chocolate. Deep smile lines at the outer edges. Freckles haphazardly spotted his cheek bones. Salt and pepper hair, scruffy but somehow neat. And several days growth to match, ending at the pulse points that you couldn't take your eyes off.

Dana burst into the room, "Incoming!" followed by the patient on a guerney with 2 EMTs - one continuing CPR.

"Right" doctor Robby started. "All hands off. Let's see if we've got circulation."

A tense few seconds passed as the monitor scrolled slowly with no pulse.

Robby cursed, "Fuck. Asystole. Whittaker, compressions. Now! Let's get her hip elevated on the right to reduce the pressure on the aorta. We are now going to start a perimortem cesar." He looked urgently at you, "I'll have baby out in 2 and a half minutes" he said almost inaudibly. You nodded.

Robby made the rushed but precise incisions, one after the other. Whittaker - like a terrified baby deer in the headlights - continued compressions while an unfazed nurse bagged between rounds. ER nurses have seen things. You're terrified of them and in awe of them. The feeling is mutual.

"Waters!" Robby proclaimed. "Clear. No blood. Cancel that Hysterectomy, Santos". Santos looked disappointed. You made a mental note to keep an eye on her if she ever rotated to NICU.

In an instant, the small 1 pound baby was out. You rushed over and slipped the tiny, purple human into a zip lock bag, it's head poking out a hole you had pre-cut at the bottom.

Javadi watched, her curiosity speaking before her sensibility thought better of it. "A plastic bag? What- why?"

"Keeps my lunch fresh and my patients warm." you shrugged. "Won't use this one for my sandwich now though."

Doctor robby let out a laugh behind you, wrist-deep inside the uterus, gently delivering the placenta.

Javadi looked confused and overwhelmed. So you kept working on baby but explained your process.

"See, preemie babies have a high body surface area to mass ratio. They also don't have much brown fat to insulate them. With this bag, there is less insensible water loss and less heat loss. Kind of like a greenhouse for babies!"

"That's... pretty simple and yet amazing!" Javadi said with an excited smile.

Your neonatal resident was already providing breaths to your tiny patient, who (unsurprisingly) hadn't taken one of their own yet. In silence, everyone watched nervously as the tiniest of tubes was slid into baby's airway with precision and ease. "Yellow, we're good for airway", you proclaimed as the carbon dioxide detector glowed to match your plastic gown. "Heart rate 145. Good perfusion. Reflexes present. Dana? Would you let NICU know we will head up shortly?". Dana nodded, she was already on it. Love that woman.

You turned to face the now post-partum woman. Compressions had stopped for a pulse check, and there it was. She was holding her own heart rate. Robby was finishing up her stitches "get her an ICU bed, Dana. Now please". Dana threw her hands in the air with her clipboard, "what am I, the bed bitch?". "Yes!" you and Robby said in sync.

-----

"Boy or girl?" Robby looked you in the eyes, asking about the baby.

"Oh, I hadn't checked. Y'know," you gestured vaguely around the room "had other priorities. $20 bet?" you raised an eyebrow at him and he faltered for a moment before answering. "Coffee on the loser for a week. Boy."

"So? What is it?" he craned his neck over in your direction.

"It's umm" you search through the condensation on the bag to find the answer. "Ha! It's a weeks worth of Vannila lattes at your expense. I like them at 8:30am. Jumbo size. Don't be late, Doc".

Robby chuckled low. A sound that hit your ears just right. "I'm never late, nurse."

You finished setting up your patient for transport to the NICU. Robby had finished the suturing too. You met him at the PPE station unexpectedly, both of your removing your outer layers.

"Contacts?" he asked, looking straight into your eyes.

Confused, you could only muster a 'huh?"

"Your eyes," he grinned, but looked down as he removed his gloves. "Never seen any that blue. They match your scrubs perfectly so I thought, uh -" He struggled to find the words. "I mean. Uh, neverm-"

"Ha! Oh God no, these are heirlooms. All the women in my family have these eyes." you said, pulling your glasses onto your face from your pocket.

"Lucky girl! And the glasses aren't bad either" he said with a wink that devastated your morning.

"Hey..." you started, more serious. "Good job in there. You very much saved that mother and baby. They may never meet you and so they won't be able to thank you. So, I want to. Thankyou. Thanks for giving that mother a daughter, and for giving that baby a mother."

His eyes locked on yours in silence. His face coated in a gentle modesty, his cheeks flushed a little and in an instant he broke the stare, rubbing his neck with one hand gesturing around with the other. "Everyone played an important role, but thankyou".

"Take a compliment, my guy. You saved two lives today, at a minimum. Have a moment for yourself". You gave him a clap on the back as you walked off to take your patient to the NICU.

"DONT BE LATE WITH MY COFFEE! A BETS A BET!" you hollered as you walked away.

"I AM NEVER LATE" he returned loudly. You didn't look back to check, but somehow you knew he was watching.

---

Back up in the NICU, your new patient was stable. Better than stable, actually. As was her mama in ICU - you had called to check.

In a blink it was 8:30am. *Where's my coffee*, you laughed to yourself.

"Vanilla latte, number one. 8:30am on the dot". His smooth voice sent a shock to your belly, as you turned to see him leaning against the doorway.

"Now I KNOW damn right you're not bringing hot liquid into the NICU?! Minus two points for OH&S violation. Walk with me". He was stunned and a little wounded, but you couldn't let the rumour mill start by going soft on rules. You grabbed the coffee from his hand and let your team know you were heading on a break. He hurried to meet your strides. You found a quiet garden balcony and sat down on a vacant bench, tapping the empty wood next to you, signalling for Robby to sit.

"You really can't have coffee in the NICU?", he sounded concerned for the staff wellbeing more than anything.

You laughed, "seriously? Full thickness burns on a 1lb baby? How will that go? We're risk averse up here, unlike you cowboys" you gently nudged your shoulder to his, before noticing his empty hands. "You didn't get a coffee?"

"I've had enough hype for today", he said as he leant forward, elbows on his knees and hands rubbing his face.

"Are you alright?" you asked, gently.

"I don't know how you do it" he replied with a sigh.

"Do what?"

"Those tiny babies. Those tiny critical babies. Everything is so delicate and intense. How do you deal with their life, and with their death? It's an art and you're a master of it. But it's terrifying". His words warmed your heart and you let out a soft laugh.

"Sir, you deal with de-gloving, gunshot wounds, and adults who talk back at you. That last one? A solid nope for me. My job is a walk in the park." A moment of silence between you before you added "you did such an incredible job today, I hope you know that" and you sipped your latte with a content smile. Robby smiled kindly at you as he stood up.

"Listen. These lattes. I'm not sure I can hold up my end of the deal"

Your heart sunk, unexpectedly.

"I can't always escape the Pitt, especially at 8:30am. Can we alter the conditions?" And boom, your heart came back into its normal position.

"Hmmm." You thought for a second and noticed his zipped hoody with Pittsburg Penguins hockey team emblem. "How does scotch and watching the hockey at my place sound?"

Silence as he considered what you'd just asked. You suddenly felt very silly.

"I -" He looked around and then at his feet for a second. "Yeah" he paused, and continued, looking back at you, "Sounds good." He smiled. You grabbed your pen and then his arm. Touching his skin hitched your breath. And his. You scribbled your address, and cell number.

*817 West 81st Street. Apartment 6B*

"Puck drops at 9. Dont be late" you said with a wink as you left him speechless and walked back to work. "I told you, I'm never late", he yelled back.

You wanted to look back. You could feel his eyes on you. But you didn't give him the satisfaction. Not yet.

----

Robby entered the ER minutes later. "You look... relaxed". Dana said, with a sly look. "Was it the coffee or the NICU nurse?"

Robby looked over his glasses at Dana, warning but playing. "You know I don't drink coffee after 8am".

He carried on through the rest of his shift with nerves in his belly. He'd not felt something like this in a decade. He'd not touched a woman in equally as long. Not since...

His arm still tingled from the pressure of your handwriting. God it felt good when you grabbed him.

Moments of daydreaming were interrupted by the constant stream of trauma cases through the Pitts doors. Trauma for the patients and inevitably for the staff. But it was soon 8pm and Robby hurried his handover to Jack, eager to get home where he would quickly grab a small token for you before heading to your apartment.

8:50pm, your phone buzzes. Unknown number but, you know who it is and you're relieved to hear from him, After worrying all afternoon that he'd pike.

*Hey. It's Michael. I'll be there in 5. Just had to grab something from home :)*

Michael. You did see that on his work ID but he said to call him Robby. You wondered why it was suddenly Michael. The smiley face was cute though.

Three soft knocks, 5 minutes later. He was never late, after all.

You almost raced to the door, opening it to see a weary Robb-... Michael on the other side. "Hi! Come on in. I'll make you a drink!" you said happily as you planted a kiss on his cheek and slipped his backpack off his shoulder, placing it on your kitchen bench. You could hear his breath hitch in his throat when you kissed him. But you gave him little more, not wanting to scare him off.

"Take a load off", you pointed to the couch. But he headed toward you in the kitchen

"I bought you this. It's a pretty good read. I heard all NICU nurses love true crime" he said with a slight laugh.

He handed you a book about the worst mass shooting in Pittsburg history.

"Omg *LOVE* this! That's kind, thankyou! But, why do *YOU* have it?" You cocked one eyebrow and tilted your head. "Do you moonlight as a NICU nurse, Dr Robby?"

He smiled. "Call me Michael. I'm Dr Robby at work but this isn't work. And I got the book because I was involved in the aftermath, a decade ago. I wanted to try and understand it better."

"Did you? Understand it better?" You asked gently.

"Nope". He rubbed the back of his neck and walked to sit on the couch. You followed him closely, handing him a scotch and cola on the rocks.

He took a sip and sighed with his eyes closed, head tilted back. "Nectar of the Gods."

"Nothing but the best" you replied, clinking your glass to his before seating yourself close, but not *TOO* close.

"So how was the rest of your day?" you questioned, very curious but not wanting to pry too much.

"Don't ask" he said, as he rubbed his eyebrows and frowned.

"Okay. Do you want a hug?" you playfully stretched your arms out to him, 2 and a half feet separating you on the couch. He looked over to you, laughed softly but shook his head.

"I'm okay, thanks."

"Shoulder rub? You do look tense?" You shrugged toward him.

He stared gently at you for a moment, slowly nodding.

"Sure. Actually yeah, I could use one".

You swiftly moved to position yourself behind him, sitting on a stool behind the couch, full access to his neck and shoulders.

You placed one hand on each side and gave a firm squeeze before leaning your head close to him and softly murmuring "first ones free. Second will cost ya, Doc". Instantly, goosebumps appeared on his neck. You took that as a win.

"Well, you better make this one good if you want bank, nurse."

You laughed and started kneading into his broad shoulders, sadness pooling inside you at how tense his muscles were.

"You're really tight. When was the last time you stretched?" You said, fairly concerned.

"Oh I don't know, about 2008?" He jested. You laughed and with that, his shoulders dropped a little.

You kept massaging, feeling tiny hard knots beneath the firm surface of his broad shoulders.

"I don't know what they taught you in med school but I definitely took at least 2 anatomy classes and you've only got one back. One neck. You've gotta take care of them!", you kneeded into the space between his shoulder blades.

"Mmmhmm" he responded, you could see he was blissing out a bit now.

You stopped momentarily to grab the remote and turn the game on. But Michael kept his eyes closed when you continued to release the literal decade of tension.

"Feeling okay down there, sport?" You asked, unsure if he was dozing off.

"More than okay. Just on the quiet, I am actually really enjoying it. Don't tell anyone though, I've gotta keep my rough and tough reputation", he quipped.

"Oh that's cute. But you'll be the one telling everyone once I'm done with you. Hold onto your butt because this next move is a doozy!"

You moved your hands to his scalp, running firm pressure with splayed fingers from his crown down to his temples. He involuntarily groaned low. "Rough and tough huh?" You let out a breathy laugh as he relished in the sensations he was feeling. After a couple of minutes, you were feeling such deep satisfaction at how your touch was relaxing him. Your eyes caught his hands moving, as he reached for a pillow and placed it on his lap without a word.

Laughter erupted from you and he flinched. "I am SO sorry", you said, still laughing.

Michael leaned forward and put his head in his hands, shaking it side to side. He was flushed but gently laughing too.

You moved to the couch, again 2 and a half feet from Michael. You curled your legs in front of your body, facing him with a smirk on your face. "How was that first freebie then?" And you both burst into laughter for a long enough that your cheeks hurt and your eyes started to water.

-----

You were 15 minutes into the game when Michael cleared his throat.

"I -" he started talking but couldn't quite find the words. After a moment "where did you learn that?"

You shrugged. "the massage? I didn't. But human touch is really important for our nervous system to... de-stress I guess. It grounds us and helps us feel secure. Actually THAT part I learned from NICU. The little babes love feeling secure with gentle but firm touch. It's fantastic for their neuro development and even has cardiovascular benefits. Theres studies on it..." You trailed off.

"Thankyou" he said, his eyes soft and with so much appreciation. "Also, I wanted to thank you for today as well. I saw how you passed on your knowledge. You did a great job. Hell, I've learnt from you *TWICE* today. So. Thanks". His smile was sincere and so endearing.

"You're welcome", you leant forward and placed a palm on his bicep, touching him for just long enough that he looked briefly at your hand, and then desperately back into your eyes.

You egdged closer to him, the cool spot on the leather couch between you now changing with your warmth. His eyes never left yours, but yours were darting between his lips, his freckles and that god-like Beard that framed his jaw so perfectly. This man was it. You found his beautiful eyes again and saw something unsure in them.

"Is this too much?" You ask, a little scared of his response, and only 2 inches from his face.

"I - it's - ". He sighed and looked down to his hands. "It's been a... it's been a very long time and I -"

"Hey". You stopped him. "It's okay. We don't have to do anything. I'm so fine with sitting her with our drinks watching the game, if you don't want -"

He stopped you, with a hand on yours. "I do. I do want this. I've wanted this since 8:30am. It's all I've thought about actually - you're quite distracting you know" he laughed softly. "I'm just. I don't want to disappoint you. It's been so long and -"

You cupped your hand to his cheek and gently bought your lips to his for the slightest of contact. "It's fine. You set the pace. We can do nothing or we can do everything, or we can do something in between. I just like being around you. You're fun and interesting and mysterious, and also moderately to severely distracting, yada yada yada". He laughed, pulling your attention to those deep smile lines framing his eyes. You wondered what lengths you'd go to, to see his eyes smile like that. Heat filled your cheeks.

A few moments passed, just looking into each other's eyes. His brain and his heart having a silent conversation behind the scenes. They must have come to an agreement because he gently placed his hand behind your head and pulled you in for a deep, gentle kiss. You melted in his grip, taking in every part of this experience. His scent, the way he was so measured and precise with every touch and every movement. He leaned toward you and with his other hand behind the small of your back, he hitched you onto his lap, facing him, straddling him. You kissed him a while longer. He was so respectful yet so urgent in how his lips claimed yours. Your hands tangled through his hair, pulling him closer even though no more room existed between you.

Breathless, you both stopped for a moment for air.

Suddenly you were aware of how you were dressed. An oversized band t-shirt, gym shorts and long white socks. Hair in a messy bun, high on your head but lopsided from his hands loosening it.

Michael was still in his scrubs, with his hoody over the top. You looked down at your clothing, and then at his.

"What is it?" He asked, unsure of himself.

You let out a small laugh. "We only met today. You're here in your scrubs and I'm here in my housework clothes. It feels like weve known each other a lot longer right?"

"This is how you dress for cleaning?" He gave your ass a tight squeeze which make you lightly squeal with delight. "Lucky house!" And he pulled you in for another round of kissing. Your hands explored his chest this time. You unzipped his hoody to give you more access.

"We can ditch the clothes all together if you like?" You offered, voice sultry.

"If that's what you want, I want it too", he said into your neck, his breath warm and his beard grazing your pulse points with the peppering of kisses.

You pushed his hoodie off and wrapped your arms around his neck. He must have got the memo because in one swift action he grabbed your thighs and lifted you up with him as he stood from the couch.

"Bedroom?" He questioned as you wrapped your legs tightly around his waist.

"Hallway. On right. Second room" you replied, between kisses.

Like a man called to duty, he strode down the hall to find your bedroom, smiling warmly at how comfortable and cosy it looked from the threshold. He carried you to the bed where he laid you back ever so gently, holding your head, looking in your eyes for any hint that it was still okay to keep going.

"Kiss me?" You questioned him, but almost rhetorically as he answered immediately with his lips meeting yours as your ankles crossed behind his waist.

The sound of the TV in the living room melted away as your senses were overwhelmed by everything happening in your bedroom. His scent, masculine and earthy. His breath warmly coating anywhere blessed to have it near. The weight of his strong body on your pelvis, and the gentle rhythmic rocking against you; a heated reflex neither of you had control of. He rolled slightly to the side, his hand finding them hem of your tshirt. You approved access to your skin with a light wimper into his ear as he peppered your neck with soft kisses. His beard scraping along the lines of your neck was intensifying the glow burning in your belly. Your hips instinctively bucking up to close the space between your core and his now bulging manhood.

So gentle and yet so electrifying, his hand ghosted up your torso, thumbs stroking your ribs until he was met with the obstacle of your bra. His hand firmly grabbed your breast and you hummed at the feeling.

His breathing became heavy, but still measured and still in total control of himself.

He lifted his head, lips meeting yours briefly before pulling back. Something unspoken in his eyes, a guarded uncertainty wrapped in insecurity. This man will ruin you, you thought to yourself. In the most delicious way.

"Everything okay?" You asked, stroking his temple with your thumb.

He paused, gained courage and just said it, his forehead pressed against yours. "I need to know what you like. What works. I need you to tell me what feels good and what doesn't. I have to do this right." You're weak for this man by this point. Entirely gone. But you can't show it yet. You craved him needing you, chasing you, wanting you.

"Michael," You started, speaking gently. "Yknow what? Give me your hand." He looks at you confused but you grab his hand, kiss the back of it, and glide it down to your waistband. And under. And between. You were soaked, and he could literally *feel* it. "You're doing great, it - this - feels amazing, see?".

His face softened, encouraged but hungrier now. You then grabbed at his bulge. It twitches in you hand and he catches his breath. "So get out of your head, and get inside me..." you whispered, needing him.

And that pep talk was all he needed. His fingers slowly parted you, his mouth on yours with excruciating heat. His thumb found your clit expertly, light pressure and slow circles and the coil started to tighten. One finger, gently in, and painfully slow out, as it curled to hit the spot just right.

You hummed into his kiss. "That feels so good". A few repeats and he inserted a second finger, eliciting a moan from you as your body electrified with his touch. He picked up the pace in response to your cues; your hips pushing into his hand and your breathing pattern becoming erratic. Your body was on fire in the most exhilarating way and it was only getting better. Hotter. Stronger.

"Mmmm. Keep going". He let out an appreciative groan at your request, increasing the tempo and applying just enough pressure to your bundle that you started seeing stars.

"Michael!" His name on your lips in that moment of heat made him desperate to see you unravel at his touch.

He finally spoke. *Finally*. His low, gruff voice in your ear. His breath hot against you. "Mmm come on, baby. Let go."

Your walls clenched around his large fingers and shuddered over and over, bringing your entire body along for the ride as you climaxed onto him. He maintained a little less pressure on your clit and soothed you through the aftershocks with kisses and his own groans at watching you come undone.

When you opened your eyes, he was looking at your in a way you'd never felt before. Adoringly. A broken man finding solace in the warmth of you. Your heart skipped, maybe it even stopped for a short while, you couldn't tell and it didn't matter because nothing else existed in that moment but his eyes on you. Totally, 100% gone for this man.

You were both silent. Nothing needed to be said right then. You gently pushed his shoulder so that he flipped onto his back, and you straddled him. You grabbed a fist full of his scrubs and pulled him up to meet your face, his hands briefly holding onto your waist as he kissed you. Gently pushing him away, you pulled his scrub top off, revealing the skin you'd so desperately needed to touch. He returned the favour, silently and gently removing your tshirt. Michael unclipped your bra with ease, discarding it to the floor but his eyes never left yours. You grabbed his hands and rested them on your breasts, giving him permission to explore.

His eyes closed gently as he cupped and grazed one breast in his hands, silently banking the sensation of your soft skin into his memory. He took the other nipple into his mouth, letting out a satisfied grunt at the breech. He flicked it with his tongue and it ignited you again as your hips started to grind him; he was rewarded with a slight yell when his teeth grazed over the bud. He opened his eyes to look up at you. He needed you to come again. He needed you, period.

Wrapping an arm around your waist, he flipped you swiftly but incredibly gently onto your back. Your shorts and panties were off in an instant, this man was not wasting time. You silently helped him out of his own, and you were greeted by his throbbing, desperate cock.

You grasped it in your hand, giving him three welcoming strokes before he had to stop you. "That feels good. Too good right now. I need just one more from you, okay?". You nodded through your lashes. "Good girl" he kissed your lips and lined himself up at your entrance. He closed his eyes, almost as if he was dissociating, and pushed gently into you. You gasped at the sudden fullness. He gave you a moment to adjust to his tip. "You good?" You offered a trembled 'uhhuh' in response and he took that as his green light. It took a full minute for you to accept all of him, and it felt incredible. You ghosted your hands up his spine and tangled your fingers in his hair. He let out a stifled moan, clearly trying to hold himself back. He pulled out slowly, hitting the spot that makes you giddy on the way out. And pushed back in again, his breath hitching in his throat.

He steadied himself again, trying to hold back. "You feel -" he said, almost in prayer, "fucking incredible -" and paused once more, "I don't know if I can -".

You stopped him with a hush, stretched to peak pleasure around him. One of your hands found its way down to your bundle and he watched intently under the dim light cast upon you from the hallway. Watching you writhe beneath him by your own hand while he was inside you, ignited something primal in the man and his focus had never been more intense. He placed one hand behind your neck to tether you, and lifted his body with the other so he could watch you; taking in the sight like it was now his Roman Empire.

He pushed you deep into the mattress with controlled precision and power, beads of sweat forming at his temple and an increasingly strained but glorious look on his face. He buried his head into your neck, picking up the tempo. You moaned and gasped in rhythm with his hips; he let out a handful of expletives in response.

Your fingers working lazily at your core, doing very little because this main was absolutely claiming you on his own. But he was enjoying what you were doing, and you wanted to please him.

Your brain was about to shut down with the snapping of your coil and you warned him "Michael -". The sound of his name on your lips, rewarded with sudden, ragged breathing. You felt him start to twitch at the same time your walls started to clench. "Michael! Oh my God I'm- ". He spilled bare into your heat and rocked you with steady and strong thrusts as you rode out the orgasm together, his head buried in your neck.

He stayed there, catching his breath while your exhausted body relaxed into the mattress. His weight on top of you was grounding, providing a security you didn't know you needed. And now you wanted it forever.

After some time, his head lifted to meet you with a gentle and thankful kiss. He rolled onto his back and you scooted off to the toilet. You turned to look at him this time, rewarding him with a smirk as you catch him staring at your ass. He had one hand behind his head, a content smile and looked absolutely wrecked.

You climbed back into bed and curled into his shoulder, his arm instinctively around your waist, tracing soft lines along your stomach.

"You working tomorrow?" He asked.

"No. 4 off. You?" You nuzzled into his beard and noticed just how incredible he smells.

"4 off too." He said quietly.

After just a minute, you got the courage to ask, "stay?".

His hand stilled on your stomach and he looked down at you looking up at him.

"If that's what you want, I want it too"

Your heart filled with a warmth you didn't know was possible. You were absolutely gone. This is him. This is the guy.

He interrupted your daydreaming with "but I've gotta get up early tomorrow. And the next three days".

You looked at him, puzzled and curious.

He smiled. "Jumbo Vanilla latte. 8:30am sharp."

You kissed him and smiled. "Don't be late"

"I'm never late." as he kissed you back, eyes heavy with contentedness and something deeper, too.

You fell into the most blissful slumber; your last recollection being the circles drawn on your stomach with his fingers. It was only once you fell asleep, that he allowed sleep to find him too. You were his. And he was healing. Better late than never.

[respectthepetty]

Question: How did episode eighteen of Perfect 10 Liners end with Faifa confessing that Wine makes his heart flutter and kissing him, only for episode nineteen to begin with Wine apologizing for the possibility of making Faifa uncomfortable?

Answer: Because they are Blue Boys who never want to hurt anyone, so instead they will just keep hurting themselves since they think nobody could possibly love them even as they look at each other LIKE THIS!

Jay, please help your friend. Faifa keeps admitting that he likes this kid, and all your boy is hearing is static. Save him from himself. Quit opening his diary and spilling his secrets, and instead help him embrace the love Faifa wants to give him.

Faifa is dropping line after line of sweet talk, and now Wine has to steady his heart with the smiley face over it just to have a conversation with him.

FAIFA IS STANDING OUTSIDE GETTING EATEN BY MOSQUITOS BECAUSE HE IS LOVE!!!!!! Why are they not dating already?!

(Is Yellow Yal Arm wearing yellow? Has he finally returned to his true color? I'm afraid to look!)

It doesn't matter because I know Faifa is wearing a blue forever shirt and shielding Wine from the storm with the shirt off his back even after he got his heart crushed when Wine said he still liked Tor. I'm getting real sick of the way Faifa looks at Wine because they should already be married with an army of monstera plants.

And the rain has made his shirt a darker blue (because he is in love with a dark Blue Boy!). Phuri, please help your friend. Save him from himself and the pneumonia he is going to get if he keeps taking care of everyone else while he freezes.

The Black Brooder is wearing green for the second time in this show for his Green Guy as he is reminded of how much he loves Gun. This is cute. Now bring my sacrificing Blue Boys back!

Yes. Write your name with Wine's in a heart, Faifa. Yes. Be so normal about this to the point that you write down a contract to go out on dates with him. Yes. Teach him how to love you--- TOR?! Blue Boys really be doing too much for the people they love. Dumb dumb.

And Wine is putting that ridiculous love notebook in his pink and red heart love cookie tin. God, Blue Boys are so stupid! Y'ALL ARE IN LOVE, PENDEJOS!

Faifa is a light Blue Boy, and Wine is a dark Blue Boy, and once again the wardrobe department is doing the Lord's work by giving Faifa a shirt that starts light and blends into a darker and more vibrant blue while Wine's shirt practically starts black and dissolves into a light blue. I love the colors in this show!

And now Faifa's can't even form a thought because his heart is beating too loud for him to think about anything except THE BOY WHO HE LOVES HAS HIS HEAD IN HIS LAP AND OMFGID!

And he will reciprocate because they are perfect for each other!!!!!

Yet Faifa shows up to the bar devastated because he moved his man's head to go tie a girl's shoe because Faifa doesn't understand sometimes a chick gotta break an ankle to learn the value of slip-on shoes. Bet you Klao would never move Warit's head from his lap to help someone else. They'd be too busy fighting and making up to even notice someone's shoelaces. Faifa is clearly a Tumblr user. Klao is a Twitter user. Warit is an Instagram user. Look at them. You know I'm right. It tracks.

Peaceful Property and Midnight Museum understood the importance of a little ghost possession bringing the queers together, so I'm glad to finally see the ghost possessions be used in actual BLs in 2025, but Ossan's Love was brave enough to let them kiss, so I'm a bit disappointed that the show with all the queers did not.

Look at this Tumblr user. Being blue. And I don't just mean his color.

Now look at him when Wine says he is his special little boy. The specialist.

It's kind of like the red connects them.

As if they were destined to meet again and again and again since Lord knows it's going to take them forever to figure out they are meant to be together!

Yeah, Jay, you judge them just like I am. Judge them like only a fellow Blue Boy could.

Now, instead of focusing on Yellow Yal Arm wearing (m0therfuck1ng!$#) black, I'm just going to enjoy these two being chismosos together since Yellow Yals and Green Guys are best friends in any universe.

I want to know when sober Black Brooder Yotha is going to remember that drunk Yotha figured out his brother was putting serious effort into making Wine happy, and when he will call out Faifa on it.

BECAUSE HE IS NOT EVEN PAYING ATTENTION TO THEM BASICALLY BE A MARRIED COUPLE IN FRONT OF EVERYONE'S SALAD!

AND NOW THEY ARE KISSING AND CONFESSING AGAIN!!!!!

I hate them (affectiona— . . disrepectfu— affectionately)

[schofielded]

I know I’m 24 years late to the party, but I’m going absolutely insane over Speirton and so I’m going to go on a rant that I’m sure other people have already talked about

But like all of The Breaking Point is Lipton taking care of other people and 1) not getting taken care of himself and 2) not really getting acknowledged for what he’s done

Lipton is a character who always puts others’ needs before his own and doesn’t really seem to stop and consider himself at all. @leftenantjopson and I were talking and it’s probably due to his dad dying when he was 10 and Lipton having to be the “man of the house” and taking care of his younger brother and mother. Since he was a kid, he’s been taking care of other people, but not himself, and this is seen in the show as well.

But THEN. Speirs comes along and gushes over how well Lipton had been caring for the men (and Lipton hadn’t even realized that what he was doing was significant because it’s just what he’d been doing for the majority of his life), and in the next episode when Lipton has pneumonia, Speirs tells him to actually go to bed and the implication there is “take care of yourself, for once.”

Speirs, the character who’s presented as purposefully unsettling and somewhat inhuman, who barely blinks, who speaks in flat tones most of the time, who definitely killed a group of POWs, who told a character earlier in the show “the only hope you have is to accept the fact that you’re already dead,” is the one who finally takes care of the guy who takes care of everyone else. And we’re finally shown that this guy who’s got a brutal reputation that certainly precedes him is, in fact, still a human, and he does have the capacity to care for other people. He’s cast in warm lighting for the first time and he smiles a real smile for the first time when he’s talking to Lipton in this church as a choir sings behind them. And it’s so!!! I’m insane very normal about them. Like I said, I’m sure other people have talked about this, but I’m newer to the fandom and finally figured out how to articulate all this this evening

[hughiecampbelle]

Gen V Preference: Taking Care Of You When Sick:

A/N: Not requested, just a cute idea I had :) I thought about what Luke would do and I got a little obsessed lol! Feedback is always appreciated!!! 💜💜💜

Luke is attentive and careful and actually really good at determining when or if doctors should get involved. He can tell the difference between a regular cough and a Pneumonia cough. He goes out and gets everything you'd need (and then some). He's good at playing nurse and listens when you tell him it's nothing, just a cold. He's seen you through the flu, so he at least knows when you're being honest and when you're down playing it. He makes sure you don't move, handing you the remote to the TV and checking in on you between classes (or skipping them altogether despite your objections) and makes sure you take medicine every few hours on the dot. It's like the way he took care of Sam growing up, looking after him. It makes him feel wanted and helpful, even more super than when he's in the arena.

Jordan avoids you at all costs. Because they've never been sick, they treat it like the plague. It freaks them out that your body is hot but you're freezing, piling on the blankets. They know there's no way they could catch it, but that doesn't mean it doesn't gross them out. The coughing, the sneezing, the tissues. They don't want to be near any of it. They leave you in their dorm with everything you need, but that's as far as they'll go. They keep a respectable distance and remind you about their busy day (classes, study groups, extracurriculars, their internship, etc.) so they won't be around much. You know how they really feel and try not to take it personally. Jordan isn't cold, but they're not the most nurturing or warm. You didn't expect them to dote on you. You know they'll come back when you're better, more like yourself, and things between you will be fine.

Andre isn't exactly sure what to do or how to help. He knew that humans were way more fragile than Supes. There's the obvious: they're not indestructible, they don't have super strength or x-ray vision, they can't fly and they aren't able to control things. And there's the not so obvious: they catch and spread viruses and bugs, especially when they're kids, and it's just part of the human experience. He understands the basics of the immune system, but you end up having to explain that it's small, it'll pass in a few days, and all you need is rest. He makes sure you're comfortable and have everything you need, but then he kinda stands there a little clueless. You take your medicine and fall asleep on and off. You don't need him to look after you, you just appreciate his company.

Cate isn't the most thoughtful or caring. She knows what will happen, how you'll get worse before you get better, and she knows you can take care of yourself, so she really leaves it up to you. She might hang around and try to sound empathetic, but for the most part her day, her schedule, isn't thrown off because you're sick. She might even avoid you. She can't make you get better faster, it's the type of thing that needs to run its course. Because she has no control over the situation, she has little interest in it and you. She might feign worry or interest or whatever emotion is necessary for the situation, but for the most part she lets you be on your own, checking in between classes or activities. Once you're feeling better, that's when she returns to her affectionate self, that's when she goes back to controlling you.

Marie has seen human sickness before. Her mom and dad and sister each fell victim to flu season every couple years and she would get to play nurse, feeling like a hero because she took care of them. When you get sick she isn't fazed or worried, she knows it'll go away in a few days, maybe a little longer. There isn't a lot from her childhood she likes to remember or reminisce on, but looking after her sister and her parents is definitely one of the sweeter memories she has. She gets you everything you need and makes sure you're comfortable and, despite her best efforts, you shoo her away to class, telling her you'll sleep while she's away. She texts you during class checking-in. She might even open up a little and tell you about the time her mom was sick and she spent the whole day with her in bed, heating up soup and bringing in more tissues. She was so scared the first time it happened, but her mom talked her down and explained everything.

Emma makes fun of you. You're so sniffly and achy and snuggled up in her bed with every blanket you can find. You look and sound ridiculous. Once she realizes this bug isn't that serious and will be out of your system in a few days, she's not too worried. She offers you booze and weed, unsure of how to help, and you thank her, but turn her down politely. What you really need is an endless supply of tissues and bad TV. That she can do, pulling up the streaming services on her computer and grabbing every roll of toilet paper from the communal bathrooms. Because she can't get sick, she lies beside you and the two of you fall asleep together. She's not particularly nurturing, but she finds other ways to make you feel better that is far more fitting for her personality.

Sam freaks out. When he was locked away, getting sick meant certain death. He knows he shouldn't jump to that kind of conclusion, but he just gets so afraid. So many people he knew (or at least learned their faces) died because of a virus. You telling him that you caught one sends him into a panic. Realizing this, you immediately clarify it's just a cold, it's nothing. At first he avoids you, afraid of what will happen. Will your skin bubble up and fall off? Will your eyes melt? Will you lose all feeling from the chest down? Will any of this be permanent? You break it down for him: how long it'll last, the symptoms, the medications you'll take. That eases some of his anxieties and, after you get better, he feels silly for freaking out. The next time you get sick, especially if it's worse like the flu or pneumonia, you go through the cycle again.

[tiredfox64]

Okay I have a prompt that’s been stuck in my head for WEEKS and I can never get it right (probably because I’m the one who wrote it) but it’s a Liu Kang prompt, the reader is fem and is VERY OF AGE like late 20’s or something so nothing gross. But it’s “sweetheart, my tattoos are older than you.” RAHHHH RAHHH RAHHH FIRE GOD LIU KANG RUIN ME TO THE DAWN OF TIMEEEEEEEEE

You’re Not That Old

Yip notes: no entienda ʅ（◞‿◟）ʃ

Pairing: Liu Kang (MK1) x Afab reader

Warnings‼️: It's short I'm sorry

Ah late 20s. Time to slow things down and take a step back. You’re not a party animal anymore. You’re not a young adult anymore for some odd reason even though your late 20s are not at all old. Really, you got a long way before death comes and takes you naturally. Death’s eyes are not on you so why are you still complaining?

“Ugh! I’m so freaking old.” You whined.

Your boyfriend looked at you with this somewhat disappointed look. Or he might have been judging you. It’s hard to tell with those godly light eyes. His arms folded before he began speaking.

“Old? I would hardly call you old. I do not see a single wrinkle on your face that would indicate your age.”

“Yes there is, look.” You pointed to a smile line. Those are natural and could appear at any age. It’s not even that noticeable!

Like the sassy god that Liu Kang is he rolled his eyes at your display of sorrow. It’s unnecessary. You’re still as young as a blooming flower yet here you are acting like you’re sixty. Shoot, even Liu Kang would consider sixty young since not many naturally die at that age.

Could he really judge fairly though? He is a god who has lived for eons. He has seen life created and life succumb to death. He has seen it in all eras at all ages. But this isn’t the 1800s when it was impressive to reach thirty without being close to death due to pneumonia. You’re young and full of energy still. You don’t even feel any strain in your joints or have any complaints of back pain. He wouldn’t even say your age is an age of concern when it comes to wanting kids. You’re not on thin ice, the ice is thick and sturdy.

“I believe you are seeing things that are not there.” He reassured you.

“Oh sure, it’s easy for you to say that when you’ve stayed the same age for years,” Eons actually, “There is nothing about you that indicates that you are older than me.”

That’s when Liu Kang got closer to you. You were still looking at yourself in your vanity mirror before you saw his hand come closer to you. He gently placed his hand below your chin before guiding your face to look at him. He tilted your head up and you saw how he looked down at you. You could already tell by that smug grin of his that he was about to prove you wrong.

“Sweetheart, my tattoos are older than you.” He said in a low, husky voice.

…

He’s…not wrong. You were proven wrong.

Liu Kang has had those tattoos ever since he became a god back in his original timeline. It just seemed to be an aspect of being a god. Those tattoos may be younger than him, but they are older than you.

If you haven’t already noticed those glorious dragon tattoos even though you have been with Liu Kang for a long time he will help you notice. They began glowing like they usually would when he uses his fire powers except he was holding back. He can’t burn that pretty face of yours. The light blue light radiated and caught your eye. Then your attention was brought right back to Liu Kang’s face once you felt his thumb lightly caress your face.

“See? I told you that you are not old.” He said before he leaned down and gave you a kiss.

He let go of your face before walking off to do some important duties. Probably to train the others or have a word with the Lin Kuei’s grandmaster about an upcoming mission. I don’t know, you don’t care. You’re just stunned by what he said.

1: God just called you sweetheart.

2: That was so smooth and you don’t understand why.

It might have been the face grab. It might have been his voice. It might be because he made his tattoos glow in that moment so you could get the point.

Whatever it was, thank goodness it worked. It made you forget about how old—I mean young you are!

Yap notes: I'm genuinely sorry if this is not what you wanted, I read the prompt so many times and I just think I wasn't the right woman for the job. I think this is more on me and something not going correctly in my brain. Once again I'm sorry if this is not what you wanted I hope someone else will be able to get it right for you.

[penkura]

Could you do a Trafalgar law x female where he rescued her a few years back and now is finally seeing her again but now she's a fierce doctor pirate?

Hi!! I hope this is good, I wasn't sure what to do for it so I just went with what came to me. ;3; I'd be glad to look at it again for another part in the future if you'd like!

Law wasn’t expecting to ever see you again, just like he’d never expected to meet you and save your life while he was still getting started as a pirate himself. Its strange to see you now, you look so different yet still the same, just like the day the Heart Pirates had left your little island. You must be about twenty-two at this point, it’s already been eight years since you met, right? You were fourteen back then and near death’s door, sixteen-year-old Law hadn’t ever expected to be convinced to heal a random girl on the small island his crew ended up on by accident. Your father begged them for help when he heard Law was a doctor, you were all he had left after your mother left the two of you, he couldn’t lose you too.

You were beyond lucky that it wasn’t more than a bad case of pneumonia, according to Law once he agreed to come check you. Left unchecked, you probably would have died in a few days as your sickness progressed and got worse, you and your father were grateful to Law and allowed him, Shachi, Penguin, and Bepo to stay with you for the few days they needed to restock supplies and make sure you were really on the mend. You wanted to go with the Heart Pirates when they left, even talked to your dad about it and he agreed to letting you go if Law accepted tour proposal to join them, but they were gone before you ever had a chance. You didn’t even have the time to say goodbye before they left, it was so sudden you wondered if you’d done something to make them leave sooner than you expected they would.

Part of you believed you and Law were getting along well. You had told him you wanted to become a nurse one day, and thought that might lead to him accepting you joining his crew, but there was no chance of that after they left.

Now Law is surprised to see you on Sabaody, with another pirate crew. Small timers it seems, he can’t be bothered to remember your crews name, but oh does he remember you. Part of their sudden departure from your home was because Law didn’t want to get too close to you, he didn’t want to start having feelings for you, though it was a bit too late for that at the time, and now he realizes he should’ve brought you along.

Law doesn’t think you notice him at first, you’re a bit busy reprimanding one of your crewmates for being reckless as you tend to his wounds, the man swearing that it was the fault of a Celestial Dragon that he’d been injured. The surgeon of death completely ignores your crewmate while he watches you dress the wounds, you really are good at it. You were serious back then after all, when you told him you wanted to be a nurse.  It looks like you’ve become the actual doctor for your crew though, in just the little bit of time he’s watched you.

You don’t notice him for a few minutes more, until one of your crewmates points out that you’re being stared at, and it makes you happy to see Law again. You’re about to go over and say hello, see how he’s been the last eight years, before your captain calls for you, so you simply give him a grin and a wave, which Law returns with the slightest wave himself as you go off with your crew, hearing you shout back at your captain that you were busy because someone else was an idiot.

Maybe, Law thinks, he’ll get the chance to catch up with you later on. If you’re not too attached to your crew, perhaps you’ll want to go along with him instead.

[nordicfiord]

May your 2025 be as great as it could be!

So, um. I was thinking I should do some self-reflection, and... it ended up here. So. Um. I will rumble a bit, if you don't mind.

I haven't been active on tumblr for a long, long time now. Mostly because english is not my first language, and when I didn't have the strength to post literally anywhere, the task to additionally translate my thoughts seem... tedious. So, I just lived my life. At that time, I was drawing a pic or two about once a month. Just some fandom stuff, or something related to the development of my game (I really hope to get it done in 2025... just a good demo would be nice too). And then I got a really bad pneumonia. And a really big hyper fixation on Slay the Princess. At the same time. I must admit, I played the game before. At the beginning of 2024. I was very glad to do it! But it didn't hit quite as hard as now. So... I watched. Lots of streams. Lots of letsplays. Lots and lots of opinions on the same game, same (almost infinite) choices. Then? Animatics. Designes of the Voices. Lots and lots and lots of creativity. "Wait, you could DO that???" Then designing Sceptic and Contrarian as birds (and as a sort of crossover with two of my characters). (here they are btw!)

And then... Birdmen. Hero. Paranoid. It was fun. Cold. For whatever reason. I just like him. Sceptic and Contrarian, because I had a thought about their designes. And then I was like... why not return to the tumblr? And here I was. Just. Pouring my designes and shenanigans on you guys. I'm sorry if I'm annoying, I'm just... really, really fixated. I didn't expect to be accepted. But I was. I feel like I am sitting on the corner of a very warm fandom and I'm graced with sunlight. I'm really, really grateful! And a bit afraid that this dream will end, I will return to making my game, and will not be making as much silly little doodles as I am now. But... that didn't happen yet, didn't it? I will doodle silly stuff for as long as I can! ...it might or might not contain a lot of Contrarian-related stuff because I just adore him too much. He's just like me fr fr. I just feel like... if he was to make something he, too, would just throw random things on the wall and see if something stick. God help us actually finish something haha. So, back to my point. You are all incredible. I love all of you, Slay the Princess fandom. I wish you only the best! Cheers to you!

[blueberrypancakesworld]

The delivery girl

Randolph Ballinger x fem!reader

warning : fluff, hurt/comfort, kissing, use of a weapon, attempted sa

Summary : You need supplies at any time of the year, but especially in winter, which covers the land like a white cloak and won't let go. But supplies had to be delivered and each of the cadets at the academy tried to get a glimpse of the delivery girl...but only one of them actually got her look back.

info : The second work for Randolph, I just love him such a sweet evil character. I hope you enjoy reading ;)

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

The snow seemed to have settled everywhere in the country, the towns, the villages, even the small bars and houses that became more and more isolated the further you got from the city.

Even the military academy was not spared from the snow and the cadets' paths and access roads had to be shoveled clear again and again, especially so that the supplies could be delivered.

She had to bring the packed food to the academy on the cart every two weeks, prepared by her sickly father on the small farm.

Because with pneumonia, it was impossible for her father to even make it to the academy in the cold outside, ,,God bless you my child, come back safely” he said goodbye to her as he leaned against the door and waved goodbye to her and she waved back to him as she did every time until she disappeared from his sight.

She never looked back afraid he might collapse when he saw her worried look, nothing was easy out here, it wasn't New York where you could seemingly make money anywhere.

If her father died she would have to figure it all out on her own, a thought that kept her awake at night, always waking her up only to pull herself together when she saw him needing something.

Because in this world without a son or husband, the dream of having something of her own as a woman seemed unattainable unless you got the remains of a fire that had once burned and found yourself in ashes and nothing.

Letting the horse's reins curl every now and then she pulled her coat tighter around her and tried to keep her fingers warm, ,,Good acorn keep it up” she praised the stallion who was far beyond his young years but still strong enough to pull the cart with the goods.

The bay horse just snorted and continued to make his way through the snow which fortunately hadn't piled up too high this time but she knew that could all change in a few hours.

A smile came to her lips as she thought of him, he would have tried to cheer her up now, to cheer her up with his more bad than right poems that somehow warmed her heart.

An hour later, as she slowly emerged from the forest, the soft ground became harder where stones had been laid and she saw the large academy building.

The dark iron gate was open and waiting for her and she drove through it, it was always different, stone and iron, clothes and order a totally different environment from her home but an environment in which she would find him.

A simple signature and a short conversation later she found herself in the inner area of the academy and came to a stop with her cart in front of the pantry and took a last breath as she stepped off the cart, ,,Well done” she praised the animal and patted him before grabbing the first pack of dried beans and pulling them into the large pantry.

And so it went for the next few minutes, a pack with jars or loose beans was brought into the chamber, stacked, hung up or placed in a box, in the past she had tracked the small things and her father had taken the heavier ones from her but she had to manage this alone.

The last thing to go was the meat, the heaviest and biggest ,,You can do it” she tried to encourage herself as she pulled the side of beef towards her and just managed to get it up from the cart when the falling hold tore the meat from her hand, ,,Shit” she muttered to herself and tried to pick it up again but no matter how hard she tried she couldn't do it, it was too heavy.

Until the moment she heard several footsteps on the snow and tensed as she saw three cadets smiling at her, three she didn't know, three who weren't him, three young men looking down at her and making her want to get back on her wagon.

,,Come on girl, let's help you” she heard and her refusal was simply ignored, as if she hadn't been noticed at all, as she walked behind the three of them not only for the meat, which was the most valuable, but also to see that it was placed correctly and didn't rot faster.

Only when everything was in the right place and the wagon was empty would she get her money, which was just enough to live on - not everyone was allowed into the military academy.

,,Thank you...however, the chamber should be closed again if you would please leave,” she asked the three still standing in the doorway not wanting to go any further in than necessary especially when the three still didn't leave, ,,Don't we deserve a reward for helping?" one of the three asked and stepped forward to her.

Pulling her hand away as he reached for it she knew the three would be punished if anyone noticed, but all she heard was the cannon banging it was training...no one would hear her scream.

Her fear amused the three and she was about to run away, knew when better to give in as hands on her coat tried to pull her back, ,,No! Let go!” she screamed at the three trying to take off her coat to get away from the three who had an easy time pulling her back.

Tears obscured her vision as suddenly a shot was heard clearer and louder, wood splintered and the three suddenly let go of her and she stumbled forward and someone held her.

,,The next bullet will kill! Get away from her!” her rescuer demanded and she looked up, tears of relief streaming down her cheeks as the three moved away and only when they turned away did he put the gun down.

His hands wrapped around her, holding her close, trying to allay her fears, always embracing her, making her feel safe, making even the coldest winter warm.

,,Randolph! Thank God it's you I thought you would-" her voice broke off as he clasped her face with her hands and wiped away her tears and her fear met his relief, his calm and courage gradually soothed her tears and he dried them with his cloth ,,I know I'm here love nothing will happen to you when I'm here' he promised her.

His hands held hers, his warm ones touched her trembling ones and she finally felt his kiss again, she finally felt his love as he kissed her, held her and the thought of being seen was forgotten as long as they finally had each other.

The intimate kiss became smaller as he kissed her cheek and her hands, always did, showed that he loved her completely, ,,No one will hurt you I'll take care of it” he promised her again and she nodded knowing that he had to do what he had to do...but what was the blood of three shameful deeds when she had found her love.

As the couple lay in each other's arms for a few more moments, he hlaf to straighten her clothes slightly before he held her hand and helped her get on the wagon, ,,Next time I'll pick flowers instead of a gun for you," and she couldn't help but smile, always seeming to know what he had to do to make her smile.

His kisses, though demanding, were never invasive, but rather gentle and loving, as if he knew that in this already cruel world, gentleness in love was the key to survival.

Their hands touched one last time and he kissed her goodbye before she gripped the reins tighter and gave Acorn the command to move again, not only had she fulfilled her task but she had finally seen her loved one again from whom she had been separated for so long.

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

@tori111777 , @xxxibgdrgons , @0m-m-m0 , @simonsrealwife

[onceuponafosterkid]

Every now and then I am reminded how hard it is being an adult foster youth. I’m only 21, I don’t know what the heck I’m doing. This week was really hard. I got sick on Monday while I was at work, but I have this fear of letting people down so I toughed it out. I got home and I had a fever of 103. I took some Tylenol but I can’t afford groceries right now so I don’t have any cold medicine or anything. I took Tuesday off of work thinking I needed a day to just recover. I mean, I’m working full time, taking three classes one of which is a two and half hour in person class twice a week after work so I thought maybe I was overdoing it right? But I’m pushing myself physically to avoid what’s going on mentally and yes I’m in therapy I know that’s not good but it’s what’s keeping me alive for right now. Anyway I go back to work on Wednesday but I have a cough and a headache and I just don’t feel great but I already took a day off I don’t want to make my boss mad. After work I take an at home Covid test my foster mom gave me and it’s negative, so I go to urgent care because day three of having a fever that’s now reached 103.5 and I don’t know what’s wrong. Urgent care does a Covid test that I know is going to be negative because I just took one, and they send me home. So if they sent me home I must just be overthinking this right? Maybe it’s not that bad. But I can’t work until the fever is gone and nothing is making the fever come down the cough is triggering my asthma so on Friday my foster mom takes me to the ER and there I find out I have pneumonia. They rehydrate me because I have been unable to keep anything down and sweating so much that water does nothing for me, and they give some antibiotics and I’m able to go home while they send meds to the pharmacy and finally I’m feeling like it’ll be okay. But the Walgreens they sent the meds to is closed on weekends, and I’m not supposed to wait until Monday so I call and ask them to send it to a different location which I find out halfway through Saturday the pharmacy is actually closed. So I call back again and ask them to send it down the street to Walmart but then they never call in the meds. So I ask my foster mom to call them for me and ask them to send the meds because it’s almost Sunday and I’m starting to feel like crap again and the fever is gone but I can’t breathe and my inhaler is expired and they were supposed to send a new one. She called and they said they would send them and she said she’d pick them up so I spent today cleaning in preparation for feeling better once I get my meds and once I’m done cleaning I sit on my floor and I start crying because I feel so freaking alone. Which is stupid because my foster mom has been taking care of me this whole time, sending me food and taking me to the ER but I can’t help but feel guilty because it’s not her job anymore to take care of me and she’s got a family at home, six kids counting on her but I don’t have anyone else to go to for help. I’m 21, I’m single, my bio family has left me again and it’s just been a really long week you know? It’s not like I have friends I can’t talk to, I lost them all when the assault at Wendy’s happened so I’m just sitting here fucking crying because I’m tired and it sounds very stupid but I’ve realized that it’s nobody’s job to help me. I’m in this alone and usually I can pretend that doesn’t hurt but not this week, not right now. But that’s just what happens when you age out. You’re alone unless you can find people and apparently I’m not very good at finding other people and I don’t know why. Anyway, I just needed a moment I guess. I feel like 12 year old me sitting outside my cottage at residential wondering if I’ll always be alone. I wish I could tell her the answer is no, but at this point in time I don’t have the answer she needs so for now I’m just crying with her.

[gallusrostromegalus]

So, I am begging you here, pls tell me that Ikkaku and Yumichika are still bffs on this AU. I need the violent miss- and yet perfectly matched bastards to still be forever ride-and-die with each other.

Also, all the dropped tidbits relating to Yumichika are gold and I am hoarding them like a squirrel hoards his nuts for winter.

They are actually, for real, legally married.

Ikkaku was 500% ready to fight the entire Gotei-13 when he took the 628-year old marriage certificate he and Yumichika had gotten in 72 North to the Seireitei Records Office to be honored.

Instead, the sole hiccup in the process was the young lady behind the counter asking him to spell Yumichika's surname for her as this document seems to have been... stained, at some point.

"-That's not... Blood, is it?" She asks, concerned.

"Uh. It's actually. Um. Soy Sauce." Ikkaku mumbles.

It would have been less embarrassing if it had been blood.

Turns out, Gay marriage- and indeed, divorce, or changing your name, or gender, or becoming the third, fourth or seventeenth parent/legal guardian to a kid is a nonissue in soul society, because someone complained *once* and Yamamoto declared that, one, he didn't care, and two, the rest of the military commanders were hired off death row, and *this* is what you're complaining about? Fuck off.

But here are some Yumichika Fun Facts:

Everyone in the 11th division has really, really good personal hygiene and well-cared for hands, feet and nails because Yumichika's mother was a doctor at a rural hospital and put the fear of dysentery, cholera, pneumonia, tetanus, sepsis, trench rot and necrosis into him even more than fear of the gods, and he very much continued this sanitary evangelism.

Yumichika's other mother was a drag queen at the brothel that adjoined the hospital and taught him all about hair, makeup, poisons, manners, alley fights, how to play the shamisen, how to make a knife out of anything, flower arrangement and how to curse the hell out of a motherfucker of it comes to that.

Kubo was wrong Yumichika looks out for all his sisters not just his cis-ters.

Kenpachi was friends with Yumichika before either of the ever knew Ikkaku. He met Yumichika shortly after adopting Yachiru when Yumichika saved him from drowning in the river that ran through his home village.

Kenpachi asked Yumichika what he could do in gratitude for saving his life, and Yumichika, seeing his sword, asked if Kenpachi could "give him a real fight, for once"

They had a jolly little scrap that left Yumichika in the hospital for three months, an almost insatiable lust for battle, and a permanent bald scar on the edge of his eyebrow, which is where he glues the decorative feathers he wears.

It also got him (lovingly) told to move out and make his way in the world.

Yumichika met Ikkaku some years after that, when the theater/brothel he was working at hired Ikkaku on as an Emcee and a comedy act in his own right.

Ikkaku loves making people laugh and is damn good at it.

Yumichika was already considering making a move on him when a heckler pulled a sword on Yumichika during his act and Ikkaku beat the shit out of him with a chair without a second thought, and Yumichika decided he was going to seduce and marry this bald little maniac then and there.

It still took the better part of six months, because Ikkaku was convinced that Yumichika was "Way out of his league" and "He's just being friendly to a coworker!".

Things finally became clear when, having reached a boiling point of sexual frustration, Yumichika challenged Ikkaku to a duel, beat the hell out of Ikkaku with Kujaku, and screamed his feelings directly into Ikkaku's face.

"Oh." Said Ikkaku. "Why didn't you say something?"

"I'VE BEEN SAYING THINGS AND SHOWING YOU THINGS AND SITTING IN YOUR LAP AND KISSING YOU FOR SIX MONTHS YOU FUCKING MORON."

"...I may be stupid."

"At least you're also cute. C'mere you sexy cueball."

-and they have been blissfully if dramatically wedded since.

It was many years after that that they had moved on to a different brothel as a duo floor show act, when they got to talking to some of the other working girls about their travels and Yumichika tells the story of how he got his eyebrow scar saving a real freak of a guy from drowning after he got stabbed by a river stingray, but then he challenged him to a fight because- well, he was young and cocky and a small fish, but in a tiny pond- and promptly got his ass beat.

"That's wild!" Says Ikkaku. "I also challenged a random freak with a stingray scar on his leg to a fight because I was bored and- all due respect to you and Kujaku, my beloved - but he gave me a thrashing the likes of which I'd never had before or since. He had his daughter with him was the weird part- he was a real big bastard, face like a cliff, but his girl was this adorable little pink thing."

Yumichika sits up, frowning. "-seven feet tall in socks, big vertical scar on the right side of his face?" He asked, gesturing to his own.

Ikkaku put his drink down and pointed at Yumichika "-and bells in his hair! You fought Zaraki Kenpachi too??"

"Yes! What the hell?" Yumichika laughed. "I wonder where he is now..."

"Oh Gods, he had the WORST sense of direction! He's probably managed to walk in and back out of the Soul King's palace on accident!" Ikkaku giggled

"Well, if he's the same seven foot tall sword bastard with the scarred face and pink little girl on his shoulder as the seven foot tall sword bastard with the scarred face and the pink little girl on his shoulder standing out in the street looking lost as hell, you can go ask him." Said their coworker Sachiko, pointing to the giant standing not a dozen feet away.

"Look Ken-chan! It's YuYu and Baldy!" Yachiru giggled.

"Yachiru!" Yumichika gasped, delighted.

"I TOLD YOU NOT TO CALL ME THAT!" bellowed Ikkaku.

"YOU AGAIN!" Zaraki bellowed, ecstatic. " BEEN A FEW YEARS, LET'S SEE HOW MUCH YOU LEARNED!!"

Ten minutes of incredible violence, twelve minutes of evading the police and twenty-one minutes of getting lost on the way back to the brothel, a bloodied but still standing Yumichika was explaining to the Madame that the giant bastard carrying the unconscious half of her prized floor show duo behind him was, in fact, an old friend of theirs whom she should absolutely hire as a bouncer, you can see how effective he is!

Madame Tsubaki, who recognizes incredible spiritual power and fighting potential when she sees it, and who is still very petty about the divorce from her husband the Shinigami Captain-General, allows herself to be persuaded.

[cringearenachamp]

The Trial By Fire Debacle, Part 2: Real Gay Tragic Idiot Dum Dum Hours

The Journey reunion was already something that Steve had agreed to very reluctantly, but if it was something he had to do, he wanted to do it for Neal. Various songs that I talked about in Part 1 of this particular analysis go over that, but the most sweet-but-also-heartbreaking song that hammers it home, for me, is an unreleased demo from the early 90s called Home At Last, which includes the lyrics: "Out of the shadows through the night/Keeping myself far from sight/I was a child lost and alone/Look at me now, this child has grown//It’s all in the past/With you I’m home at last//Standing together again/We’re face to face old friends/Feeling your truth here in my heart/I’m back again playing the part/My heart beating fast/With you I’m home at last"

Like, even without the Neal context this sounds like a coming out narrative. We've got the shadows/darkness references, feeling lost/alone/childlike, wanting to hide himself-- but now, also, stepping *OUT* of those shadows, so excited to show... someone... that he's finally learning to accept who and what he is, and wants to share it. This someone is an old friend, maybe someone who he feels is hiding something similar (but he's not telling hiiiiim~ *ahem*). It's also a reunion with this old friend, someone he felt he played some kind of role next to. It's a hope for acceptance and love. (There's a chance this could be another born-again religious song-- the "you" being god or jesus or whatever, lol-- and you can read it that way, too)

In a way, at least with the first reading of the song, this almost sounds like an early draft of Anyway-- one that was way more directed towards Neal than anyone else, and one that was probably WAY too open and vulnerable for Steve to actually put out on an official album of his (considering how guarded and private he tends to be). There's SO much hope in it, and when you listen to it within the context of how the reunion actually happened, it's kind of fucking crushing.

Steve's hopes of being more open with Neal were something that were already troubled by the new weakness within his voice (likely post-pneumonia effects), and maybe even more troubled by the fact that he was getting older just generally. So were all of them, of course, but Neal was still that reckless, impulsive 15 year old deep down. Impressing Neal meant racing cars with him, either drinking hard or putting up with his drinking (if i recall correctly Neal hadn't kicked alcohol yet at this point but def correct me if im wrong), and generally looking young: none of Neal's marriages were things that lasted, and they were all to young blonde women (and like... those poor women lol i really hope they had fun while it lasted and found someone better later). Steve probably hoped that he was different, somehow: they had a serious long-term connection on professional, emotional, and musical levels. He was also a ~man~, and maybe that would make a difference, too (of course, overlooking how a guy treats the women in his life because you don't think that applies to you or that it's not your business is a patriarchal tale as old as time). Would that be enough, regardless of what type of relationship he wanted? He extremely wanted it to be.

Once Steve got that hip injury and arthritis diagnosis, though, all that shit-- and the "worst experience of his career" concert from '91-- was probably at the forefront of his mind. His voice was already not in top form, and now he was physically failing in other ways, as well. From that point onward, I think, he believed he was going to get dumped on the side of the road. He couldn't be what he thought Neal wanted him to be. He couldn't be what he thought the band wanted him to be. He was a "failure". And that, as a perfectionist and as someone with a still fragile sense of self, was an absolute nightmare.

That, to me, is why he didn't talk to the band for months and months and months. He was ashamed of himself, heartbroken, anticipating rejection from the man he cared about most-- and he was panicking so much that all he knew how to do was avoid it all. But avoiding it made his worst nightmare ACTUALLY come true: he got kicked out of the band, and-- insult to injury for him-- JON did it, not Neal. Jon, the guy who had originally rejected Steve in certain ways. Jon, who wrote the song Steve's mother loved the most (Faithfully). Jon, who seemed to be fully accepted by Neal. Jon, who Steve had originally worried about usurping his place in the band hierarchy and structure.

OOOOOOOF.

Of course, there were probably plenty of professional reasons for Jon making the call-- first and foremost, he had the most even keel out of the three of them. Steve had also reached out to Jon in the beginning of the TBF reunion stuff, so it was sort of a reciprocation of that. But to Steve, not only was it insult to injury, but also probably a complete show of cowardice on Neal's part as well. Steve also claims that Jon told him that they were already trying out new singers, and this was one of the things that had gotten Steve to do the reunion to begin with: he still had a jealous streak, still had massive abandonment issues, and saw being replaced as an utter rejection of his Self and the work he did with the band. This particular time, though, probably also confirmed for him (whether it was true or not) that Neal wasn't someone he could count on-- that he was the one being treated like an obsolete model to be upgraded, now.

When someone is marginalized on (at least) one axis of class/privilege but can "pass" as a member of the hegemonic in-group, there can be an understandable temptation to try and assimilate to fit within this in-group as much as possible in order to stay safe and gain certain privileges you might not otherwise have. If you grow up marginalized, you also learn through various means that "normality" and fitting in are virtues, of sorts. Some kinds of assimilation can be necessary for survival purposes and even just getting by day-to-day. However, the conclusions of assimilation are ultimately a trap! For one thing, fitting in with the in-group means policing and disciplining members of that group for any signs of "out-group" behavior-- ex, Jon calling Steve "poncy". It also means treating members of out-groups more poorly-- for example, men's place at the top of the totem pole comes from pushing women downward in various ways (legally, culturally, etc). Assimilating into straight white masculinity means becoming more homophobic, misogynist and racist, even if just ambiently, or even just in what you put up with from your other bros (and bros within the music industry... *shudders* horrors go on in there). On top of all that, the minute you stop "passing" or the bounds of acceptability suddenly don't include you anymore, that's it for you!

So ultimately, I think, Steve thought he could avoid this trap by gaining as much control over the structure that he was trying to assimilate into as he could (the band). This was a failure for various reasons, including the fact that he did so on a mostly individualist/legal basis instead of a collective labor action (for example-- of course, in the 80s labor actions would have been difficult for Reagan reasons). It was also a failure because the structure of the band (and the corporation behind the band) was built by Herbie, to benefit Herbie the most (and then Neal, as his successor of sorts-- and Steve wasn't important enough on his own to persuade Neal, especially not in the maladaptive ways he was trying to influence things at the time).

Regardless of the tinkering Steve and his lawyer made to that structure and despite Herbie's absence, and regardless of how well Steve and some of the other members gelled musically and worked together in that sense, the members within that structure were going to act in accordance with the norms of that structure unless it stopped benefiting them. The norms of that structure were always going to stop benefiting Steve first, so he'd always be the weakest link in that regard. When Steve lost a lot of the power he had in '86 to aggressively seize control of things, he resorted to passive(-aggressive) avoidance. That had worked once before, after all: leaving after Frontiers and returning for Raised on Radio had given Steve a TON of leverage. But things were different now, and he couldn't simply avoid that fact anymore.

Thus, the divorce! Which Steve made out quite well with, and made Herbie treat him like an evil ex-wife that cleaned him out in court ever since (Herbie also called him a "pimp" making the band work the streets for him, but like. Eew. Also a bit of projection 'cause Herbie was the one working the band to death before). Not to say it wasn't also a display of Steve's more petty/vindictive side: it was almost as if he was saying, "oh, you want to tour for the rest of your life, huh? I'll make sure you HAVE to".

In the end, then, Steve did win against Herbie, which he used to very much want to do: but it was a pyrrhic victory. He won some kind of vindication, perhaps, and a continued source of income, but at the cost of the relationships that made the band work to begin with-- and one relationship, in particular, that Steve had been obsessed with on some level since the fucking 70s. He also learned, the hard way, that he wasn't "special" in the sense that he could re-orient the structure of the band to suit him first and foremost.

One of the tragedies of the Steve and Journey story, to me, is about the pitfalls of assimilation: it always seems like the safer choice, and on an individual level it can work out, but you end up hurting and betraying others like you that aren't as easily able to assimilate in the process. There's a poison at the heart of that choice, even if it's simpler or makes things easy in various ways. On a community-wide scale or larger it always ends up in throwing as many people under the bus as you can so you don't get run over. When the answer should be: work with those around you to stop the fucking bus!

(Also pour one out for poor Smitty and Ross. Having to be in the crossfire of the craziest band drama since Fleetwood Mac not once but TWICE.)

[alaskan-wallflower]

when Steve gets sick he’ll latch onto the first person he sees like a duckling- usually it’s Soda or Two-bit, but more than once it’s been Dally or Darry! once it was even Pony but he’ll deny it once he gets better!

like when he had a really bad fever, he was following Soda wherever he went (and always trying to hold his hand or arm). he got all sad and teary eyed when left alone (he was real loopy due to the cough medicine)

or when he got pneumonia, he just kept mumbling sarcastic comments at Dally but legit started sobbing when Dally tried to leave- anyways that’s all!!! :)

—🍰

no yeah, on the rare occasions that steve gets actually sick (like not just a cold or a stomachache) he’s out of it. you might as well have just given him anesthetics because he’s gone. he doesn’t know where he is or what he’s doing, all he knows is he’s cold, miserable, his stomach has molten lava in it and he’s been gargling eggshells for the last week. at that point, just about anybody in the gang is warmer than he is, and he needs to get warm somehow. pony acts annoyed (especially cause soda teases him and pony gets really pissy) but he doesn’t mind too much, as long as he can still read or whatever. dally threatened to belt him if he didn’t get off but never followed through on it. he just made sure everyone in a 20 foot radius knew “this is so fuckin’ stupid, man, i hate this”. sodapop 1000% feeds into it. johnny and two don’t mind, steve doesn’t love being near two often cause he smells like beer and the scent makes him nauseous (not even just cause his home reeks of it, the smell in general bugs him completely) but his nose is so stuffy he can’t even notice it. darry falls asleep with him. he protests a little cause “i have to get stuff done, steve, i can’t stay here” but he drifts off too. it’s good for both of the,

this is canon to me, trust. when he gets better he doesn’t remember much—that entire week may as well have been a fever dream, but the gang always fills him in on it, much to soda’s chagrin and steve’s displeasure

[cryingskunch]

Just heartfelt yapping

Forgive me I'm gonna get kinda emotional in this one, I'm even putting it on the main blog to make this a human moment you get what I'm saying

To start this off as a cliche, ever since I was a kid I wanted to be a writer.

Like that was my dream job because I loved reading so much and it was such a helpful escape from my p shit home life and I wanted to write my own story to escape into. I wrote in notebooks, I wrote on sticky notes, like anything and everything I was writing on.

I was pretty ruthlessly bullied all of my time in school and one of the major targets was my writing. I was the cliche teachers pet who liked to write and read so I was a easy target. It discouraged me a lot and eventually, I just stopped.

When I got to high school I started to write fanfiction because I loved reading it so much, it gave me that same feeling I used to have as a kid reading all the books I loved. I didn't post much, my magnum opus in numbers is actually a Fallout 3 fanfiction I wrote my senior year into my first year of college lol but I was writing and I was happy.

Then I got to college and I struggled a lot. I was the most depressed I had ever been in my entire life up to that point, I was in a place that was not accepting of me being transgender, I had a terrible "boyfriend" who crossed so many boundaries, I didn't have good friends, i was in a career path I didn't want to do and I had had my top surgery basically taken away from me because I got pneumonia, which I was hospitalized for and had to take the time I was supposed to have off recovering from surgery to recover from that and just so much shit.

I tried to write again but I couldn't and then some "friends" of mine how find my writing and bullied me for it so bad I had deleted so much stuff I wish I still had out of embarrassment. I mean at least over 100 works, gone. I hate that I did that so much.

Then years went by and beyond docs with not even a 100 words on it, I didn't write extensively.

Then BG3 came out and I was so full of lore for my character I just had to write it. I was going through what would be the worst phase of my life and mental health ever and I could find no outlet beyond BG3 and it was starting to drive me a little crazy so I tried my hand at writing again. I made my older sibling cry with what I had written, I had people messaging me telling me how they were crying over my character I had written and I thought, maybe I can do this.

Than life got shit again and I didn't write lol.

Till god damn Veilguard and bioware once again caught me in their clutches and I started to write again.

I dusted off the old tumblr I had made in highschool, revamped it and posted and my god the response was so incredibly sweet.

Ever since then, I have received nothing but love and just the most incredible kind things said to me about my writing and my characters. How people love them, how people want more of them and how they like the way I write.

I always wanted to be a writer and I am one now, and I just want to thank you all for that <3

Sorry for the ramble and for a bit of the dump!

TLDR? I love you and appreciate yall being here <3