#I have joked with ems workers in ambulances

[phosphenemoth]

POV: Me on multiple occasions while severely injured or ill.

*covered in blood* I'm literally fine guys. im still funny. Would you like to hear a joke Im going to tell you a joke

[squeiky]

Gotta go fast? Went a little too fast..

So uhh.. mabye running down a hill while carrying heavy shit wasn't the best idea I've ever had.. then again I'm full of bad ideas.

Yeah so um.. don't follow my example and umm.. be careful? And don't follow my example.

[mushibashiraas]

🛒 I JUSR REALIZED HOW AWFUL AND ROBOTIC I SOUNDFJDJDJ LIKE. i come back after posting the ruggie fic and redoing my theme only to drop a to do list and dip againdjsjdjs ah. uh.

so life update ig? eh. i can talk more about my chronic migraines too since the life update is mainly about themfjdjdj oops. BUCKLE TF UP BC THIS'LL BE LONG (still dont know how to add the "more under the cut" thing on mobile tumblr. too lazy to get out my laptop)

this whole week has been insane! context: my migraines are triggered by bright light, loud sounds, motion-sickness-games (i.e. genshin, Identity V, etc.), weather pressure changes, rainy days/nights, storms, and dramatic temperature fluctuations..... but mainly the last four.

anyway. this week had the first and the second triggers. (and towards the end of this week is supposed to have the last trigger. yay!) one of the things that happens (IF i push myself to power through and "stay conscious" — more on that in a bit) is that i faint. like. not "faint for a couple minutes." nahhhh! i go out for like 10-40 minutes; normally the max is 20. but occasionally, a 40 minute episode'll occur and those are the scary ones.

on tuesday, i had a doctor appointment with my cardiologist pertaining to said migraines and fainting. while waiting to check in, i passed out and fell (i was standing at the time). and the staff and nurses were worried i hit my head so they called for an ambulance to drive me across the street to the hospital ER. i was there all afternoon and almost all night. i finally went home at 11pm. i'll spare yall of the more personal details (what tests were done, the overall experience, etc). all i'll say is that there's a reason why i hate hospitals and needles.

but the visit was long and tedious and terrifying and painful. i cried several times, as well as fainted a few more times between when i came to just as the paramedics arrived and a little after the technicians performed EKGs, etc. [like they usually do whenever someone is first admitted to the ER]. those fainting episodes were only a few minutes tho. not long at all. don't worry!

*sighs* anyway. that visit defined my entire week tho bc i ended up missing a day of work on thursday and a korean language class on wednesday. still felt the usual symptoms (most likely the aftermath) like dizziness, nausea, a heavy, sluggish feeling, soreness/headaches, loss of eyesight, etc.

hope this explanation helps??? i'll get back to writing and gaming soon. aaaaa i have a guaranteed yelan to get ready for anyway. heehee

EDIT: i forgot to add that yall shouldnt worry too much! sorry if i scared yall! these migraines and fainting episodes aren't manageable yet. even tho i can go to work sometimes, i cant drive, take horseback riding lessons (i used to take them), and go to/continue college,,,, i've had them since 2013?? 2014?? and am on medication for them as well as going to a neurologist and cardiologist who are both monitoring my condition and trying to help me and get them manageable so i can do all the aforementioned things i said i can't do.

also, it's not as uncommon as i seem to make it to be. several celebrities (look up Ben Affleck migraines) have chronic migraines, as well as several families/people/co-workers also have or have dealt with chronic migraines and passing out due to them. my own mom and older brother — altho they aren't biologically related to me — also have bad/chronic migraines. my family actually make jokes about my migraines and say i'm a walking barometer lol if anyone lives in the northeastern U.S. text me and check if a storm is coming. lol i can most likely tell you; if i migraine than yes. if i don't than no. lol /j but all jokes aside,,, again. don't worry too much for me. ok? i'm still functioning even if it's at low-HP/hu tao levels (a little genshin/gamer joke/comparison for yall). i'm still shino/em, someone who is so in love with jamil and xiao and rindou that they'll devote all their time and resources to taking care of them. heehee! ❤️❤️

[honey-bri-books]

Not everyone uses sarcasm or vents through social media like some of us do, but if Misha’s tweet (not included because he deleted it, and others pointed out that means he doesn’t want it on social media, anymore) was insensitive, then so are ALL of MY tweets. And other people’s. He’s not the only one tweeting or posting things, like that. 

Anxiety and sensitivities are triggered more easily nowadays, but if we were all so literal and so serious and “polite” I would break down (if I haven’t already). I don’t believe in Stepford or Pleasantville. I don’t believe in being coddled, and don’t start crying when someone says something “negative” or “mean.” Or expresses their own opinion that does not hurt anyone, at all. It’s not a reason to put on a frowny face and act like a privileged idiot.

Misha does NOT need to apologize, unless lots of other celebrities are expected to apologize, for tweeting similar content that share his vibe. 

Why do I feel this way? Besides the fact that Misha worked his butt off, bringing awareness to the importance of voting and getting involved in politics (and not just this past year)? 

I grew up in an environment where if I made a sarcastic joke, my mother would start crying and look at me like I’m a monster. She was angry at me once, for wanting to go back to sleep, when there was an ambulance outside of our neighbor’s house at 2am, and expected me to look out the window with her until it left, saying I’m uncaring and something’s wrong with me. She started crying once, when an ambulance drove by and started praying (nothing wrong with caring, but she thought something was wrong with me for not responding in the exact same manner). She thought I wanted to be evil, because I saw a horror movie and then started crying....(all years before the pandemic hit, so that had nothing to do with it). Her response to me seeing Mean Girls was “That doesn’t sound nice. Why would you want to see a movie where people are mean?!” and looked horror-stricken.

So (in my mind) I couldn’t move or breathe or think for myself. I was told by my mother which member of the family I loved more than others, and that I wanted my sister to be my bridesmaid and was scolded for not making oatmeal the same way my mother does. I ended up estranging myself from her, in the end.

That’s why I acknowledge that Misha’s social media is HIS social media. He is not posting or tweeting anything to impress fans, as some may believe. He cares about the political situation, clearly. And if people are saying they’re sick of seeing his tweets? Block him, so you don’t have to. Unfollow him. Don’t follow Misha fans. 

And Misha is not any fan’s responsibility. He doesn’t owe us perfect Tweets or words of advice or positive, bubbly, “this is fine” words of wisdom. He doesn’t need fixing. He’s not a Trump supporter. He did not approve of what was happening and did not think it was an opportunity to get likes or attention. He tweeted what was on his mind. He’s not happy about what happened! People are saying it wasn’t dark humor. If that’s true, it still shouldn’t have made anyone cry or extremely upset. In my opinion, that’s odd. It’s expecting someone to behave perfectly and say only what someone else wants to hear. 

I’m sorry that some are feeling hurt (by literally everything he says?), but he’s the only person out there being smothered and silenced by fans. WE ARE NOT HIS PARENTS!!!! Other people are posting things similar to his posts/tweets (some are worse and supporting the MAGA-hats who were at the US Capital saying “Go get ‘em!” or “I love Trump”) <-- They are the problem, here!!! So, why is there such an extreme focus on Misha Collins, ONLY!?

He’s wrong when he doesn’t post anything, at all. He’s wrong when he volunteers at a food shelter/soup kitchen. He’s wrong when he posts anti-Trump. He’s wrong when he makes a joke. He’s wrong when he’s angry about something (and rightly so). He’s wrong when he sees people accusing co-workers of things that aren’t necessarily true and gets upset, but manages to calmly speak his mind without yelling at you. He’s wrong when he apologizes. 

“Yeah, but the rogue...” His script did not include “I love you too, Cas,” that was the point of the the word  “rogue” he did not mean it seriously are people insane?! “But an interpreter could lose their job, it’s serious...” A sarcastic person says something in an off-hand way, and you think that’s dangerous? Really? “Yeah but people who don’t know him...” ...could check in with people who do, and confirm it wasn’t an official PSA. NBD.

It’s fan entitlement. It’s unhealthy. It’s coming from a place of privilege and spoil. Let go of Misha, if you feel he’s been “hurting” you.

He’s not the problem. Do not hurt him, anymore. I wouldn’t blame him for leaving social media permanently, at some point. Refusing to attend conventions. Refusing interviews. He has the right to break off from connecting with fans, because of all the policing. I would have quit Twitter if I were him, after seven or eight or nine or ten people shared the buzz feed article “Please, Misha! If you care, read this!” “Misha, read this. You’ll know why your words hurt us.” “Misha I left a very important link in your...” JFC!

Misha doesn’t deserve the smothering he’s getting from people who are clearly obsessed with him. If your reply to that is “No, but he does need to apologize for what he said, and it was insensitive...” No. I’m not even asking Misha-haters to apologize. I’m hoping that they’ll stop telling Misha to apologize, or to delete tweets. It’s got to stop. Misha will cut himself off from the fandom completely, if things continue on, like this.

*Opinion Piece. 

❤

[northoftheroad]

The Robin 80th Anniversary Special

It's not a secret that I'm first and foremost a Dick Grayson fan, whether he comes dressed as Robin, Nightwing, Batman or something else. But I try to be charitable and be happy for fans of the other Robins that they got a pice of the birthday cake, i. e. the Robin 80th Anniversary Special.

For your enjoyment (?), here are my thoughts about the book. Spoilers ahead, obviously – don't like, don't read!

I honestly thought almost all of the stories were ok – but pretty forgettable. Marv Wolfman's spin on Dick leaving to become Nightwing, in "A little nudge" (art by Tom Grummett and Scott Hanna), is probably the only one I will remember and reference in the future. I don't know if or how it is supposed to fit into the (any?) continuity, but as far as I can see, it works nicely in the current setting.

Dick's parting from Robin and Bruce was successively portrayed as more and more hostile. When he originally left Robin to become Nightwing (1983–1984), the two still had a good relationship. This changed in comics to, first, that Bruce decided to retire Robin, and then to that Bruce outright fired Dick and kicked him out of the cave. This lead to that their relationship was portrayed as poor, antagonistic even, for a good many comics years.

The bad mood was picked up by Batman The Animated Series, where Dick left being resentful of Bruce and his methods.

I don't have a lot of good things to say about what has happened to the Bat-family after Flashpoint. But from what we've seen from scattered panels, Dick was the one who decided he wanted to leave Robin. You can read Marv Wolfman's story as confirmation of that. Which is nice.

Bruce is only a little bit of a jerk in this story, being utterly rigid about that Robin has to follow orders. Dick, however, chooses to stay with a kid that had been shot instead of following the criminals.

Dick has had it with Bruce's rules and leaves the cave, but he says "later" rather than "goodbye".

It's made clear that those strict rules were Bruce's way to say, "I know you've grown up, and you should move on; I'll be fine without you."

Batman # 408, where Bruce decides to retire Robin because he got scared when the Joker shot Dick, is firmly established in my mind as the "correct" leaving story in my mind. It was the only one I had read and knew of for many years, and the two still part on decent terms. But Marv Wolfman's 80th Anniversary version has a lot going for it.

On to the rest of the stories...

"Aftershocks" By Chuck Dixon, art Scott McDaniel and Rob Hunter.

Set during Cataclysm (a storyline from 1998) where Dick lived in Blüdhaven before he moved back to Gotham and became Batman. It's an action-filled story where (fingerstripe) Nightwing comes to Gotham after an earthquake has hit the city.

It's interesting to read this, living through the corona crisis that is going on right now. I don't know how it is where you live, but where I am, people are setting up networks to help people who can't go out to shop or walk the dog, University students are helping kids do their math lessons with the help of Facebook, people make masks for health workers etc. But when Chuck Dixon writes what happens after a catastrophe, Dick has to fight his way through masked thugs who are trying to rob an ambulance of "painkillers and tranks" when he tries to save a cab from falling with a damaged bridge. A woman is giving birth inside the car, and the story ends with that the mother wants to name the boy after Nightwing.

"Well...Robin works, right", he says.

"Team building" by Devin Grayson, art Dan Jurgens and Norm Rapund.

Well, I'll always soak up everything that has to do with Dick and the Titans – Teen Titans, New Teen Titans, Titans, any Titans...

Devin Grayson wrote The Titans 1999–2000, which is the setting of this story. Most of it takes place inside a H.I.V.E. locale, where an exasperated boss (Damien Darkh) chews out his soldiers after a fight with the Titans. But Darkh decides not to kill the lot of them, because they did distract the Titans while he stole a red crystal/power source. Of course, it turns out Dick is the soldier who has kept his helmet on; he takes the crystal with him and gives Darkh a bit of advice on team-building on his way out.

"Generally speaking, fear of execution isn't a great motivator. I've found basic team-building and morale-boosting to be much more effective. Like, I'm just spitballing here, but... You ever consider a pizza night?"

Well, it did keep me amused, and it shows us that Dick is a good leader and strategist, (and a great acrobat who manages to get out of the H.I.V.E. uniform with one hand, on the way out), although it isn't exactly a surprise that Dick was in the building when you get near the end.

"The Lesson Plan" by Tom King and Tim Seeley, art Mikel Janín.

Now, I do like some things about the Grayson run, but with a bit of distance, I've realized it was mostly the art. The sexualization of Dick and how King and Seely wrote him as a guy who jumps first and plans never got tiresome. This story is in-character for Grayson; Dick is accompanied by a girl (Paris) from St Hadrian's on a mission, and on the way, he remembers the lessons Batman gave him and imparts his own interpretation of them to Paris. As is Batman says, "plan everything", and Dick says "Improvise. Leap first... figure it all out on the way down." Ergo, classic King and Seeley. Also, it is possibly implied Dick made out with a beautiful girl that turned out to be gorilla in disguise...? Yep, vintage King and Seeley.

Other than that, I don't have a big problem with the story. Some things ring true to me – as when Dick remembers Batman saying, "At their core, people are cowardly and self-serving. Trust no one until you know them. And even then, never completely". And what Dick says is, "Give the benefit of the doubt until you gotta knock 'em out."

For my own peace of mind, I'm reading this as Dick is half-joking with his advice. It's not like we've never seen him make plans and be suspicious post-Flashpoint.

On a side note, one of the best characterizations of Dick Grayson to my mind is a panel from Black Mirror. When Dick explains he had injected James Gordon Jr with a subdermal tracer, and says about himself, "I am a softie. And I do try to see the best in people... but that doesn't mean I'm stupid."

Detective Comics # 881. By Scott Snyder, art Jock and Francesco Francavilla.  

"More Time" by Judd Winnick, art Dustin Nguyen.

Jason has a cute story about him repairing Thomas Wayne's watch as a present to Bruce. He started the work as a tiny Robin (too tiny, in my opinion, but with Dustin Nguyen on art it probably couldn't turn out any other way) and finished the work as Red Hood. Jason delivers the present to Bruce on his birthday, placing it on the Batmobile while it is parked in a Gotham alley.

"Extra Credit" by Adam Beechen, art Freddie E. Williams II.

Tim has an appointment with the guidance counsellor at Gotham City High School. Tim sees a future in law enforcement (that's the first I've heard of that, but I'm no expert on Tim) and he's adopted (again, something I haven't seen post-Flashpoint). But the counsellor doubts that Tim will be admitted because he has nothing to show when it comes to extracurricular activities. It's kind of a fun few pages where the counsellor suggests things that Tim could do, and Tim thinks about what he does as Robin on his spare time.

"Boy Wonders" by James Tynion IV, art Javier Fernandez.

Tim, Red Robin, is unsure what he wants to do with his life and goes to his brothers? fellow Robins? for advice.

I know emotions have been running high because Dick tells Tim that he is "demonstrably smarter" than he is, which makes it sound as if Dick is not really smart at all.

Again, for my peace of mind, I choose to read this as I want: that "big brother" Dick is encouraging, he has always thought highly of Tim, he has no ego to preserve. This doesn't make Dick a reliable narrator on the subject, and the page ends with that Tim thinks "He was the first. He's the best. He's always going to be the role model. "So, two brothers who admire each other.

Tim also talks to Jason and Tim, and the story ends with that he tells Batman he wants to start Gotham Knights protocol, the team in Detective Comics (Rebirth.) 2016-2018.

"Fitting In" by Amy Wolfram, art Damion Scott.

Stephanie, as Robin has problems because Tim's Robin suit doesn't fit her female body. But at the end of the day, Bruce gives Stephanie her own "changing room" in the Bat-cave, because she's female.

...are Bruce and Alfred idiots? Did Dick, Jason and Tim have exactly the same body type when they were Robin? Stephanie deserved a story worth being told, not this one.

"My Best Friend" by Peter J. Tomasi, art Jorge Jimenez.

Jonathan Kent writes a school essay about his best friend, Damian. As he writes the words on his laptop at home, they are illustrated with pcitures of the two as both Robin and Superboy, and as Damian and Jon in civvies. Tomasi and Jimenez worked with Super Sons (2017–2019), and though I didn't read that, I'm pretty sure this story is an extra chapter in that series.

"Bat and Mouse" by Robbie Thompson, art Ramon Villalobos.

It's not the worst story in the book, but somehow the one I disliked the most. It is part of what is going on in Teen Titans and Bat-titles right now; we see Alfred's tombstone and how Batman and Robin have a strained relationship and difficulties in communicating. I'm not keeping up with what is going on with Damian and Bruce in detail, so I really can't say whether this story is consistent with how things have been going lately. I'll let Bruce-and-Damian fans take that ball.

To be honest, my reaction to "Bat and Mouse" is probably due to that I really, really don't like what's happened in the Bat titles lately. I firmly hope that the current situation will be changed and Alfred will be alive again, and I wish I could go back and re-read this book years from now without being reminded of this very dark time when DC seemingly doesn't want any money from me for new comics...

Being who I am, I probably take it waaaaay too seriously to try to understand where/if these stories fit in the DC continuity... The writers have probably (rightly) thought more about writing a good story than making it consistent with any grand plan for a timeline for all of the DC universe. But whatever.

The Grayson story clearly happens in a post-Flashpoint universe, as does Damian's and Tim's stories. But Tim says he's adopted, which I believe has never been said outright post-Flashpoint. And Stephanie has as far as I know not been Robin in this continuity. Chuck Dixon's Nightwing story is explicitly set during Cataclysm (a storyline from 1998) where Dick lived in Blüdhaven before he moved back to Gotham and became Batman. Post-Flashpoint, he moves to Blüdhaven for the first time in Nightwing vol 4., so Dixon's story should take place in the old continuity.

On the other hand. The last pages of the book are made to look like profile overviews in the Bat-computer and use pictures from different Robin runs. If the snippets of information are supposed to be the current continuity for the Robins, a lot from the pre-Flashpoint universe is back in canon.

Shortly, Dick was adopted (that's the word they use), formed the Teen Titans, moved to Blüdhaven and was Agent 37 for a while. Blüdhaven comes before Agent 37, but it's not explicitly stated when he first moved there. Because if Dick was in Blüdhaven before his time with Spyral, it is inconsistent with parts of Rebirth Nightwing. (Which I can live with...)

Jason's story starts as the street kid who tries to steal the tires of the Batmobile, his stint as Robin was short, and today, Red Hood has formed a tenuous alliance with Batman. Tim uncovered Batman's secret and made a bid to become the new Robin – and his new moniker "Drake" is acknowledged. Stephanie was Robin for a very short while. Damian was created with genetic material that Talia stole after a romantic tryst with Bruce, and he was bred to be an assassin.

Personally, of course, I think that Dick Grayson was worth more of an effort from DC on his 80th anniversary. But on the whole, the things we got were decent, "A little nudge" gave me something I will keep with me, and several of the covers are great.

(The cover photo is still pinched from Dan Jurgens' Twitter – I haven't bought all of the variant covers.)

[wolfpawn]

I Hate You, I Love You, Chapter 51

Chapter Summary - Tom and his family start to worry about Elle.

Elle meanwhile, has made it to hospital, shocked at who her doctor is.

Previous Chapter

Rating - Mature (some chapters contain smut)

Triggers - references to Tom Hiddleston’s work with the #MeToo Movement. That chapter will be tagged accordingly.

authors Note - I have been working on this for the last 3 years, it is currently 180+ chapters long.  This will be updated daily, so long as I can get time to do so, obviously

tags: @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog @jessibelle-nerdy-mum @nonsensicalobsessions @damalseer @hiddlesbitch1 @winterisakiller @fairlightswiftly @salempoe @lys-syl @youcantcatchafallingstar

If you wish to be tagged, please let me know.

“There’s no answer from Elle’s.” Emma declared as she came back into her mother’s, “And I don’t think Mac is there either.”

“It’s getting close to darkness, she will have to be home soon.” Diana dismissed.

“Yeah, maybe.” Emma went to Tom’s room and knocked on the door. When he came out, he was only in a towel, his hair dripping wet. “Have you spoken to Elle this afternoon?”

“I haven’t spoken to her since last night,” he rubbed another towel over his face. “Why?”

“She’s not home, and Mac isn’t there.”

“She’s been gone all day?”

“Could she have gone for a drive?”

“Her car is in a garage in London, all the other cars are here, what would she have driven?” He walked into his room and grabbed his phone, going straight to Danielle’s number and pressing the call button.

The number you are calling is not accessible at the moment…

Tom hung up again. “Get mum’s key to Elle's.” He instructed, grabbing a pair of sweatpants, a hoodie, socks and shoes; he threw them on and rushed out his bedroom door and down the stairs. “Em?”

“Have them.” she threw them to him and without waiting, he ran out the door and to Elle’s.

The house showed no signs of life, but he banged on her door anyway, “Elle? Are you home?” he banged a few more times, but again, there was no sign of his girlfriend. He used the key and walked in, the house was silent bar the sound of the antique clock Danielle had brought from her parents home. “Elle?” Tom looked around downstairs. “Mac?”

“Tom?” Emma and Diana came to the door, “anything?” Tom shook his head and darted upstairs. He glanced into Elle’s bedroom to find her clothes readied for when she would come out of the shower on her bed, telling him she had not returned from wherever she had gone on the bike. “She never came home.” He informed them as he came back downstairs. “Where the fuck is she?”

“She would not be cycling still,” Diana became worried. “Try her phone again.”

Tom did as she asked and got the same result, hanging up when the automated answer came on. “I’m going to drive around and see if I can find her,” he stated, his own concern growing. “What colour was the bike, mum?”

“Black and grey.”

Tom paused, “She doesn’t have a black and grey one, she has the green and black and a red and black.” He walked to the back kitchen, and sure enough, both bikes were there. “Shit!” He ran out to the large shed in her garden and noticed the lock on it was open, looking in, he realised the other, lesser-used of Danielle’s bikes was not there. He walked back into the house, “She is gone trail biking.”

“And that is what when it’s at home?” Jack asked, having joined his wife and mother-in-law, wondering what was going on.

“She has a mountain bike she likes to use in woodland, on trails.”

“It’s a bit wet for that, isn’t it?” Jack looked outside, the heavy rain the day before had turned to a light drizzle, but overall, the ground was still soaked.

“I’m going to see if she is on her way back from it,” Tom declared, running back to his mother’s to get his car keys.

“Where the fuck is she? Why didn’t she tell anyone where she was going?” Jack pondered aloud, beside him, his wife bit her lips together sheepishly.

*

Danielle groaned as she tried to fill in the form in front of her, utterly bemused at the irony of trying to write her name with her suspected broken wrist. Her phone had been water damaged in her fall, and it was by sheer luck another dog walker had decided to investigate a barking dog nearby and came over to her. Thankfully, her arm seemed to take the brunt of the fall, and she had been close enough to a side gate of the woodland, she had made her way to the road easily enough and the kind man had waited with her until an ambulance arrived, to her relief, it was Dave, one of the workers that she had been partnered with when she was with the Emergency services, and he allowed Mac Tíre ride with her, and promised to return him to her house when his shift ended, since hers would be his last callout. “A change of perspective,” he had joked when she sat on the gurney, waiting to arrive at the hospital.

That had been a couple hours ago, she was still waiting to be seen, her wrist hurt and in truth, she just wanted to go home and shower. Her clothes were after drying, but as a result, she was shivering next to a radiator, nowhere near warm enough to heat her. Finally, she was called by a nurse to be assessed and to be given a gurney to wait for a doctor on. She didn’t care if there would be a pissed off orderly that would have to remake the bed, she immediately took the sheets off and wrapped them around her, they were rough and not very thick, but they were better than what she had, so she was happy with that much, it made the following hour and a half easier to bear.

“Your next patient is at the bottom there,” The nurse finally referenced her, so Danielle waited for the doctor. “Here’s her chart.”

“Thank you, I…wait the last one?”

“Yes, Doctor.”

The sound of fast footfalls caught Danielle’s attention. When the curtain pulled back, it took only a moment for her to recognise the man in front of her. “Danni?”

“Hey, Paul.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Well I decided I wanted to do nothing more than check out how the NHS is doing on Christmas Eve, and sure, no better way to do that than falling off a bike.” she smiled as she held up her arm.

“That desperate to see me?” he joked back.

“That obvious?” she grinned. “How are you?”

“Good, well better than you apparently. What happened?” He placed the chart on the bed and gently took the injured arm. “Sore?”

“Tender, I don’t think it is broken, maybe a tiny fracture at most, but I think it is a sprain. A biking accident slipped on mud and fell. So I thought it might need checking out, better to be safe than sorry, though, right?”

“Yes, I’ll get you sent for an x-ray.” Paul agreed, checking her eyes, “Concussion?”

“Nope, I didn’t hit my head, my arm and shoulder took the brunt of the fall,” she replied as she followed his finger.

“How are you in general? How is life?”

“Good, tired, I have never thought I would ever see the end of my paperwork before Christmas,” she laughed then, “Probably a good thing I got it all done before I had this happen.”

“Probably.” Paul agreed.

“What about you? What’s new in your life?”

“I am moving to Surrey soon.”

“That’s nice.”

“Yeah.” his smile did not reach his eyes.

“You’re not happy about it?” she frowned.

“Closer to London, far busier.”

“Was it of your choosing?”

“Sort of.”

“That’s a no then,” Danielle informed him.

“Well it’s the right thing to do,” he commented cryptically. “I will have you brought down right away, and then you can get whoever is here with you to bring you home.”

“I came alone.” he frowned. “I’ll get a taxi.”

“I can’t let you go home alone Danni, you fell off a bike, you don’t have any signs of concussion, but it is too dangerous, it’s not like Mac can call an ambulance if you need it. What about Diana?”

“She is gone to her family for Christmas.” Danielle fibbed. “So what happens now?”

“I’ll have to admit you.”

“Paul…” She pleaded.

“I cannot risk you going home and getting into trouble Danni, I’m sorry, I have to admit you.” He stated sternly.

“I’ll leave.” She threatened.

“Danni, I am begging you, don’t do something stupid.” It was his turn to beg.

“Fine, whatever.” she readjusted the blankets on her, looking at the floor.

“Do you want me to call anyone for you?”

“No one to call,” she stated downtroddenly. “It’s just me and Mac for Christmas.”

Paul looked at her sadly. “I’m sorry.”

“What can you do, right?”

“I’ll have an orderly wheel you to X-ray. I’ll check on you after I speak with the radiographer.”

“Thanks.” she gave a pathetic smile. “I am keeping the blankets, by the way.”

“How long have you been in those clothes?”

“Since I fell, about three-ish.”

Paul looked at his watch. “That is six hours ago.”

“Well they’re dry now.” she shrugged. “So let’s get this show on the road.”

“Right,” Paul nodded, though there was concern in his eyes. “I’ll get someone now.”

*

“Mac is in the garden.” Emma declared walking into the kitchen of her mother’s.

“What?” Tom rushed into the room, having checked every side road next to the woodlands for Elle until after dark.

“Mac Tíre is in Elle’s back garden.” His younger sister repeated. Tom rushed out the door to check, sure enough, as soon as he opened the divider between the two houses, the dog barked excitedly at him before going into Diana’s and shaking his wet fur.

“The side gate is closed over,” Tom stated as soon as he came back in. “I need the keys again.” Jack grabbed the keys off the counter and threw them at him and he walked out again rushing to Elle’s door. He rushed in, only to see the house was in darkness with no sign of her having returned, scared, he ran up the stairs three at a time to find the bedroom as she had left it. Mac Tíre may have returned home, but it was clear that Danielle had not.

[millicent231-watt]

(Free) Police!Reader x Police!Rin

Anime / Crossover: Free! Eternal Summer

Songs: None

Request: No

Modern AU or just AU: None

NSFW/R-18: No

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

"Rin, Souske. We've got a dead party to go to." I say as I get in the car with them. "Where?" Souske asks and I look down at the details on my phone. "Down at the old shipping containers." I say before the car starts up and I get my gun ready with everything else. "The guns are on safety, so you'll have to turn that off before we get out of the car." I say and I place their guns in the drink holders. "Thanks." Rin says as Souske drives. "You're harness is loose." Rin says before leaning into the back and fixing it for me. "Thanks." I say before he grabs my wedded hand with his. "It'll be fine babe, trust me." He says and I smile. "I know, I'm just worried about Kiyomi." I say, thinking of her little smiling face. "She'll be alright, we got a babysitter." He reminds me and I nod. "Yeah, sorry. I'll get my head in the right mind space by the time we get there." I say and he smiles, rubbing the back of my hand with his thumb. "Good, just do what the doctor told you we you had Kyuko." He says and I giggle. "Push?" I ask and he sighs. "No, breathe and relax." He reminds me and I smile. "Good, cause if it was push, I might actually piss myself." I joke before they both laugh. "Please don't. I just got this car washed." Souske jokes and I laugh. "I'll try."

Time Skip

"Safeties off?" I ask and they both nod. "Alright, let's go." I say before we exit the car and run to cover. I signal them that I'm gonna check for anyone inside. They nod and I quietly scoot to the corner. I turn the corner with my gun in front of me, looking for anyone I might have to shoot. I gag slightly at the bloody mess in front of me. "Police! Come out unarmed and with your hands up!" I yell into the empty warehouse as my co-workers follow me in. "Nothing?" Souske asks quietly before I growl. "I said come out unarmed and with your hands up!" I yell again. "I don't think anyone is here." Rin says and I sigh, putting my gun in its holster and turning to them. "Look around for any survivors or anything that might be of use. Souske, could you call this in? It'll need to be investigated." I say and he nods, walking back to the car. I make my way through the pile of teen and young adult bodies. "A fun graduation party turned into a massacre..." I mumble as I see a flyer for a party that was being held tonight in the warehouse, covered and splattered with blood. It's still wet...

"Y/N!" Rin yells and I jolt up, running over to him carefully. "What?" I ask and he turns to a young man. "We got a breather." He says and I hold my finger to his pulse. I sigh and turn on the walkie-talkie that was strapped to my shoulder. "Could I get an ambulance to the old shipping containers near the dock? We've got an injured man and possibly more." I say before hearing 'An ambulance is on their way' and I nod to my husband. "Do you wanna stay with him or-" "I'll take him out the front. That way it'll be easier for the ambulance." Souske says before helping the man up. "L...lady." The man says and I smile at him. "Don't worry sir, we're getting you to a hospital." I say and he shakes his head. "B...be careful...they....they're quick...they're silent.....and they're smart..." He says and I thank him. "You heard him Rin, be careful. Keep your gun in your hand and be ready to shoot. But make sure it's not a survivor." I say and he nods and we both get our guns out. We walk in a different direction to cover more ground, carefully turning corners with our guns first. I enter the final room gun first and look around. I sigh and lower my arms. "No one's here...but that mans warning..."

“They....they're quick...they're silent.....and they're smart...”

I gasp before turning back to get Rin. "Rin!" I yell as I see him. "Y/N? What's wrong?" He asks and I look around. "We gotta go! It's a trap!" I say before a loud bang was heard. I grab Rin's hand and run out. "What's going o-" "Stay out!" I yell at Souske. "It's a trap!" i say, letting go of Rin's hand so he could run faster. "Get to the car!" Souske says before a muffled scream left my mouth. I kick my leg about and try to get out of the tightening grip. "Y/N!" Rin yells and I felt a cold metal touch my forehead. "Ah, ah, ah. Not another step. Wouldn't want me to blow of this pretty head, would you?" The mysterious man asks. "Let her go." Rin demands before I was pulled backwards slowly. "Not gonna happen." He says before I was quickly pulled back into the blood pool party, my husband screaming my name.

I groan as I was thrown against a wall and kicked in the stomach, causing me to fall on my side. "Now we've got a doll to play and have fun with." The man says with an evil smirk while picking up the nearest item, which just so happened to be a wooden board with nails sticking out of it in a few places. "This should be fun~" Another one growls as I was slowly surrounded by a gang of people smiling evilly at me, various weapons rested upon their hands.

Rin's POV

"Drive faster!" I demand as we rushed to get backup and stock up on guns and ammo. "I'm going as faster as I can Rin. We may be the law, but the laws of physics would throw this car if I went faster." Souske says, trying to calm me while my wife was having God knows what done to her. As soon as Souske parked, I was out that car and inside before he even turned off the ignition. I tell the lady at reception the situation and she gets some back up at the scene. Souske and I get some better guns and stock up on ammo before heading back out. You'd better not be dead Y/N...

Your POV

I groan as one last hit was made with a baseball bat before distant sirens came racing towards us. I smirk up at the man an spit some blood onto the ground. "I t...told you they'd come." I state before getting kicked and having a gun pointed at me, causing me to back up slightly and quicken my breathing. [THIS IS THE POLICE. WE HAVE THIS PLACE SURROUNDED. COME OUT UNARMED WITH YOUR HANDS UP AND NOVODY WILL GET HURT.] A megaphone states as snide chuckles come from the gang members. "Go take care of 'em boys." The leader says, but what the 'boys' said intrigued me more. "We will die for you, High-Priest." Everything clicked. High-Priest. This wasn't just some crazy gang, it was a cult who was willing to die for their leader. This wasn't just a massacre, it was an offering to whomever they worshiped. "Good. Then we can have some real fun once it's just you, me and your beloved husband." The high priest says before trying me up and covering my mouth with a piece of cloth. I passed out soon after being thrown over his shoulder.

Time Skip

"Y/N!" My husbands voice woke me. "R...Rin?" I groan. "Rin. That is your name?" The high priest says as he walks from the shadows. "It means nothing to a crazy, dead man, so why do you ask?" Rin growl. "You say 'crazy, dead man' as if I am either crazy or dead. I am not crazy, just religious. And I am sure I am not dead yet-" "Do you want me to change that asshole?" Rin growls as he pulls his gun out and points it at the man. "If you wish to seek revenge, I cannot stop you, but I must warn you, Lucifer himself will rise from the ground if you kill me. You're lives will be plagued until you die and rot with him for eternity!" The high priest says. "What did you want with my wide anyway?" Rin demands an answer. "What I wanted with her? Nothing too much. Just some...emotion." He says before I feel an excruciating pain in my leg. I scream and cry in pure agony as the high priest twisted the knife deeper. "Stop it!" Rin yells before firing a warning shot. "Our religion focuses on proving a mother's or wife's love, protection and devotion to her family. If you die from all that is used to test you, you did not love your family enough. Simple enough." The priest says before throwing me to the side and pulling out his own gun and another knife. "Now, I will not let you interfere again. So to prove the seriousness of this situation, a warning shot." He says before pointing the gun at me and shooting me in the stomach.

I scream again as the bullet travelled into my body. "You son of a bitch!" Rin screams, running at him and beginning to fight him. It took a while, but eventually, the priest was at an advantage. I fall onto my side and reach for my gun on the floor. When I got a hold of it I carefully and shakily aimed it. I had 1 shot. I couldn't fuck it up. My breath becomes uneasy as blood began seeping out of my wounds. I was no longer applying pressure to the bullet hole. I pull the trigger, hoping to hit the priest, as I see my husband getting beaten. I drop the gun and gasp in pain as I try to stop my wound from bleeding. "Y/N!" Rin yells as he runs over. "I'll fix this. You'll get better." He say desperately as he picks me up gingerly and carries me out of the building quickly. "Someone help her!" Rin yells before an ambulance crew rushed over. "Fix her. If you don't then I will rip off you testi-" "Rin." Souske cuts in as I was pushed away. I reach my hand out to him and he runs over, jumping the the back of the ambulance with me. "You're gonna be alright. Everything's gonna be fine." He repeats to me all the way to the hospital.

[rapeculturerealities]

I was 17 years old, married, a mother of beautiful twin girls, and 12 weeks into my second pregnancy when I woke up to a wet sticky feeling between my legs. I got up and there it was: a light pink discharge. I felt a sense of dread and panic and called for my husband. Off we rushed to the local hospital in our small Indiana town—a Catholic hospital—where I was checked into the ER. After a brief internal exam, I was informed I may be having a miscarriage. I was promptly sent home with instructions to rest, put my feet up, and return if I started bleeding.

The next morning, I began bleeding heavily.

When I returned to the ER, I was told that I was having a miscarriage, and that the embryo had stopped growing properly at eight or nine weeks. There was no chance the pregnancy would progress, but the fetus still had a heartbeat. So, despite my worsening condition, I was told to go home and wait.

I did not have a lot of money back then. I worked two low-paying jobs and was struggling as it was to take care of my two young children. I was certain I could not afford a third trip to the ER just to be sent home again. I took my discharge papers and just figured I’d just try to manage at home.

Later that afternoon, after hours in pain, my bleeding became very heavy.

I went into my bathroom hoping the pain would pass. I am pretty sure it was during that time I passed the embryo. After feeling a large amount of tissue pass my bleeding only became heavier, so heavy that I had put on one of my kids’ diapers to collect the blood, just so I could walk next-door to my mom’s and use the phone. I figured the bleeding would eventually slow down, you know like after giving birth or during a heavy period. I remember thinking if they sent me home twice, no reason to go again. I sat down in my mom’s kitchen to make my phone call. While I was on the phone, however, I suddenly fell to the cold, hard kitchen floor. It felt like I was in a dark tunnel, but I could hear my husband yelling in terror, “Laurie, wake up!”

I couldn’t move. I just felt cold. I could sense my family members around me as we waited for the ambulance to arrive—my husband, my toddler daughters, and my grandmother. But I couldn’t move. All I could do was try to hold on to my life while my daughters were crying in their play area, my husband yelled in panic and my grandmother yelling “call 9-1-1!”. All I could do was lay there feeling cold, somehow present, yet far away.

After EMS brought me back to consciousness, I knew I might be in real trouble because the paramedic I had was a neighbor who had treated me for asthma before. We had always laughed and joked in the past. But he was all business this time. Taking my vitals, asking me questions, keeping me awake—it’s a bit of a blur. Ultimately, there I was right back in that same ER, still cold, still bleeding while hospital workers tried and failed to start a second IV line for a blood transfusion.

One of my clearest memories from that day is when I heard the doctor scream, “Who the fuck sent her home? She could have died.”

I had to have emergency surgery to remove the remaining tissue from my uterus and save my life. The same OB-GYN who gave the order to send me home was still on call when I was brought back in.

I later found out that the doctors at the hospital were not allowed to provide me with the basic care I needed in order to prevent a life-threatening condition because of the facility’s religious affiliation. Someone in my situation should have been offered dilation and curettage—a procedure that removes tissue from the uterus—or another form of miscarriage management.

Instead, I was denied care.

This is because dilation and curettage, also known as D&C, is a method of performing an abortion. At the time, I was staunchly anti-choice, and did not go to the hospital looking for an abortion. I wasn’t interested in ending my pregnancy—to the contrary, my husband and I wanted a healthy pregnancy. But when I found out the pregnancy was ending, I just wanted to get the care I needed. I wanted to be able to return home to my family and work so I could support my children. To this day I’m not sure I would have gotten the D&C I needed even on my third visit had I not passed the embryo in my bathroom alone and with no pain relief.

What if I had returned and there was still a heartbeat?

In the United States, Catholic hospitals are governed by the Ethical and Religious Directives for Catholic Health Care Services. These regulations were written by the US Conference of Catholic Bishops, not doctors. These directives prohibit abortions—even during miscarriage and even when necessary to save a woman’s life. This is true even for ectopic pregnancies. When I went to the ER that second time, the doctors could tell that my pregnancy was not viable and that my life was potentially at risk, but that didn’t matter. Because the fetus still had a heartbeat, they were unable to care for me.

I now realize that I’m not alone in this treatment, or lack thereof. It’s estimated that one in six hospital beds in this country are at hospitals and facilities subjected to the Ethical and Religious Directives. For many people—myself included—that facility might be their closest hospital or the only one in their entire community.

What’s worse is that many people don’t realize that religious facilities have these harmful regulations in place. In fact, they might not even realize some facilities are religious at all. This is exactly what happened to me when I was 17: No doctor at my hospital told me that I would have to go to another facility to get the care I needed, and I ended up nearly dead on the table as a result.

This happened to me in Indiana over 20 years ago, but it still really threatens and endangers a lot of people in need of life-saving care all across the country to this day. And things are likely to get even worse: In January, the Trump administration proposed new rules that seek to allow health care institutions or employees to impose their religious beliefs on their patients, regardless of the harm it causes.

The White House proposed a gag rule to restrict family planning funding from clinics and hospitals that conduct or refer for abortion. We have yet to see how far reaching the impact will be.

Women of color are the most at risk as we are more likely to get pregnancy carefrom Catholic hospitals.

Religious freedom is absolutely important in our country. It’s something that should be protected, and people should be allowed to practice their faith, however they choose. But medical care should protect the life and health of the patient—not prioritize the beliefs of religious organizations, providers, or lawmakers with a political agenda.

This is, in the most literal sense, a matter of life and death.

[tanyalovesreading]

So I’ve been thinking. I need an outlet for all this bullshit.

Okay… that’s harsh. Let me try again!

Hey guys! I’ve been on this job for 6 years now. I love it, it’s my absolute dream job. But since the second covid wave, this job has been hell more often than not. This doesn’t mean I see many gruesome things, yea they’re a part of this job and they do happen. But I kid you not when I tell you, you have no, absolutely no clue why people would call an ambulance.

The German healthcare system is one of the best. Everyone gets to call emergency services, rich or poor, homeless or not. You have to have insurance. Even if you’re a refugee you get it. But oftentimes that means that I get to respond to calls where I just want to scream at people.

The joke among healthcare workers is the typical “3 am, back pain for at least 3 weeks and now I want an MRI“. That’s just not what EMS is for.

Other people are talking about it on big platforms, Facebook, Insta, Twitter, TikTok whatever. They want to spread awareness about this. By now I actually don’t care anymore. We’ve been yelling for years and no one seems to care anyway.

So I’m just seeking an outlet for all of this. So if you’re up for weird stories, buckle up. If not, then this blog is just gonna act as my personal therapist because a real one wouldn’t believe some of these stories anyway

[paramedicsuicide]

First responder suicide -- PTSD, or something else?

Its 1:30am. I sit on my computer in complete darkness, having just slept for the past 10 hours. As a Paramedic in a suburb of a relatively small US city, I work 12 hours shifts for 4 straight days. I get 4 days off to recuperate after that, and at this point in my career those days are essential for my survival. Many of my co-workers are not lucky enough to be able to stop at just 4 days, and must work additional overtime shifts in order to make ends meet. The private EMS industry has relatively low wages nationwide. We are the "red headed step child" of emergency services, often hiding in the shadows of police officers, firefighters, and nurses. There is no such thing as a "typical" shift when working in EMS. There are the occasional shifts where I will sit in the parking lot of the local convenience store chain for 12 straight hours without picking up a single patient. The glow of my cell phone screen illuminating my face for each passing person to see the life draining out of my body. The boredom sets in after hour 2.  My legs and butt hurt. I am hungry, but I can't tell if its true hunger or just my body telling me to get up and move. I decide to walk inside to browse the aisles of colorful treats, getting nauseous at the thought of eating "lunch" out of a gas station at midnight for the 3rd day in a row. Despite my disgust, I walk outside with 2,000 or more calories of junk food at a time in an attempt to eat myself to death. "Ill be diabetic by the end of the week" I say to my partner as I open my fudge dipped granola bar. As the career of a first responder goes on, most quickly start to pack on the pounds like a bear preparing for winter. Company policy prevents you from sleeping during your shift, so your food (if you can call it that) is washed down with 16oz of your favorite energy drink to keep you awake and ready to pick grandma up off the floor when she attempts her 2am bathroom run. I have palpitations from all the caffeine. Hopefully one day those PVC's turn into an arrhythmia and the lord takes me. "Anything to get out of this job" I say, as I polish off my second monster of the night.  Morning rolls around. 50mg of benadryl will help me fall asleep after drinking energy drinks all night long. I have severe shift sleep disorder. I am depressed. I just want to sleep. I wake up ready to go after just 4 hours of sleep. Great. Another night of pounding monsters. I punch in 15 minutes early for my next shift and am assigned a call before I am even scheduled to start. I am the only ambulance available in the surrounding 15 square miles of suburbia, and that trend will continue for the next 12 hours. Call after call, I don't have time to finish my paperwork before being sent on the next run. Its 11pm and dispatch calls my unit number for the 5th time today-- "With the fire department for a 1 year old post choking". I have taken 50 calls of the same nature before and say out loud-- "Great, another bullshit call". Every day, nervous parents call 911 over the slightest cough or sniffle which eventually numbs you to the potential of a true pediatric emergency. Its never a real emergency. Until it is. Rolling up on scene after the fire department, I grab my house bag and begin to waddle towards the low income apartment building for the third time this week. I think -- "I should have brought the tablet for a signature so I don't have to walk back outside". Suddenly, a firefighter rounds the corner carrying a limp child like he is holding an offering platter. "That's not good" I blurt out , going from zero to 100 in the snap of a finger. The firefighter tells me the child was eating chicken and rice when he began to choke.  As my partner digs out the pediatric bag valve mask that has been sitting unused in the house bag for an unknown number of years, I set up the suction, only to find an unresponsive, apneic child with a clenched jaw. "That doesn't make sense" I think to myself as I try to peel apart his tiny jaw without any luck. Thank god-- he has a gap in his front tooth that fits a small, 12fr suction catheter. I start to go through the motions. Is he seizing? Nope. Any trauma visible or reported? No. Mom was asked again-- and again says the child was sitting up, eating, and suddenly started choking. What is going on here? With little to be done on scene, I rush to the small local hospital, nervous that the next squeeze of the bag could lodge a piece of food in this kids airway. I am getting good air exchange but his spo2 isn’t amazing. He must have aspirated. Great news. He is now moving his arms, and his eyes just opened. Wait, why is his jaw still clenched? That's not great news. This kid hasn't made a noise. What the fuck is going on. As I roll the stretcher into the small emergency room closest to the scene, I am greeted with that dreaded sentence from the ER Physician-- "why did you bring him here and not children's hospital".  I bite my tongue-- its not the time to have that fight. The kid is now posturing. A few minutes go by and the doctor asks me to get my laryngoscope because the emergency room is not currently stocked with the proper pediatric equipment. Maybe he was right. The thoughts start rushing through my head-- "they are going to kill this kid. I should have just risked it and bypassed. It was only an extra 7 minutes or so further". As I sit there and wait for the next order, new thoughts take over. "Someone shook this kid. There is no other explanation".  Hypertensive, bradycardic, posturing. But mom said he was choking on rice? Where would she get that from? Hmm. She doesn't seem as concerned as a mother should be. She answers a text message while being questioned by the police.  She has yet to ask anyone how her son is doing. The texts start to come in to my phone. "Are you ok?". "I hear you had a bad call. You guys ok?" "WTF was that all about?". I am fine. Any provider who plans to have a lengthy career has to distance themselves from their patients. I can think back to every "bad" call I've taken, and never once have I been able to recall processing a patients face. Its not important. What they look like is irrelevant to my job. Its the circle of life. Some people live, some people die. Its my job to try and make that circle a little bit bigger if I can. Sometimes you are successful, sometimes you aren't. You have to come to terms with that early on. Minutes after calling in service from restocking, the radio chimes my unit number again. "Cold response to the fitness center for a hand laceration". I arrive on scene to find a psych standing out front in his blue paper clothes, clearly having been to an emergency room at least once today. “Hop on in buddy-- take a seat” I say as I shake my head. We drive him 3 blocks down the street to the same emergency room we left just a couple hours prior. I am not greeted like one would expect. Not with "Hello", not with "whats the chief complaint". I am greeted with a sentence that is never good news. "Did you hear?". Our child from earlier had been emergently transferred 6 miles away to the childrens hospital by a specialty transport team. The news from them was not good. "That kid -- he has a brain bleed". My suspicions were confirmed. He was never choking. Someone hurt this kid and tried to cover it up. I know how to handle this, because its not even the first time this situation has happened to me. People hurt kids often enough that I am not even shocked. Stories like this don't make the news *for a reason*. People cant handle stuff like this. No one needs to know that savages live in apartment 3. Some people have to know though. WE have to know. Its not OK. I talk about suicide often. My previous partner was a veteran and has PTSD from being deployed overseas. He has had many friends commit suicide after returning from war, and was concerned about my mental health. That should concern me. He would ask me once a week-- "Are you sure you are ok?".  My little comments here and there come off as jokes to most people. "Id rather die than come into work tonight". "Pull out in front of this semi truck-- we wont feel a thing I promise". "Stage for police? Fuck that. I hope I get shot". In reality, its not a joke. I am not suicidal at this point in my life-- I am apathetic about living. I'm not going to take my own life, but I am definitely not excited when I wake up each morning. This feeling has slowly crept up on me over my almost 10 year career as a paramedic. I tell myself daily that I need to get out before its too late. What will be the breaking point where I become truly suicidal?  I have to answer one question before I leave. "Where will I go?"   I am burnt out. Everyone says "go to nursing school", but the passion-- the fire inside that makes you want to help people has been extinguished for years. Where can you go at 30+ years old with a paramedic certification and no useful degree. I have made financial commitments at my age that makes starting from scratch somewhere at entry level wages an impossibility. What can I do? Where can I go? I am stuck. This job is like quick sand, and I'm up to my shoulders. If I struggle much more it will be above my head. We get to see what goes on behind the curtains of society. How much would you enjoy a magic show if you knew how the magic was performed? That is what life is like for many first responders. Members of the general public get to wear blinders during their day to day lives. There are people who post rants to facebook if the garbage man didn't put their garbage can back in the correct spot. A terrible day for a typical person is a flat tire on the way home from work. They have no idea what happens in their town or city on a day to day basis. They have NO IDEA that 3 doors down, a husband beat the shit out of his wife for the 4rd time this year and she wont tell the police what happened. They have NO IDEA that people call an ambulance from the parking lot of an emergency room because they don't want to wait in the waiting room.  They have NO IDEA that someone in apartment 3 just hurt their baby and tried to cover it up. But we know. We see it all. I have talked with a lot of people who have similar feelings. Its due to me being so open about my apathy towards life. People who I see every day, smiling at their coworkers and telling war stories and laughing. You would never guess these people were at the end of their ropes-- fighting off their own demons. "Make sure they have bagpipes at my funeral". I don't try and talk these people down because they don't want help. How could I help anyways? You cant just "un-know" the things we know. These people just feel comfort in the fact that they aren't alone. I have been lucky that none of these people have taken their lives yet. I know the day is coming. Its been a long time since a co-worker has committed suicide, and the statistics say we are over-due. How will I handle it?

[rogue-snorunt]

Why I made a ko-fi

I got an anon who said that if I'm going to ask the public for money, than I need to explain why and it better be good. Which. Subtlety kind of rude but I get it. I'd want to know the story too and while I did give the explanation already in my first post about it, because I broke my own link with my incredible stupidity, I took it down.

reposted the link to my Kofi that hopefully works now but did leave out the explanation because I feel bad involving others in my problems and I don't want people to hear em and feel guilted into anything.

So here it is: the full obnoxiously long saga of the series of unfortunate events that had led me to making the Kofi from start to finish describing my 2017-2018 life presently.

It all started back in January of last year..

The cafe in which I work.. Worked? Work.. closes every January for cleaning for anywhere between 2wks and a month and in the time they encourage us to apply early and collect unemployment. This would be my first and last ever time doing this.

Why close? Mainly because my bakery is an old fashion French bakery where our lawyer city boy rich owner went to France and liked some countrymans brick oven so much he dropped I think it was a million or so to not only buy the oven, but to actually bring said oven to America brick by fucking brick.

And to clean this wood fed oven the size of a living room, you need AT LEAST 2-3 wks to let it cool down enough for some poor scrawny guy to climb in through the tiny wood stuffing hole and excerise all that soot. Plus deep cleaning a detached two story bakery; the kitchen and cafe itself..

Anyway back to the plot:

So on Jan 1st,2017 I applied and by Jan 14th2017, the place temp closed for cleaning.

I had saved 900$ for this because I'd be okay for the month.. $200/month for rent; $50 for phone, $35 for gas, $130 for groceries for me (who has strict diet of lactose and gluten free diet because I WILL die if I eat gluten because my organs swell; attack themselves and try and shut down. Rip™ my diet gets fucking hella expensive. Bread alone is &4-$5 bucks) $300 monthly student loan etc..

Well: not a week in our gas heater said fuck you. So to help repair, there went -$400 bucks. A WEEK IN. Than my grandmas car died, -$250 a week later. Fuck me gently.

Than the fateful blizzard night of Jan 31st 2017 that would be the catalyst of unfortunate bullshit leading today.. at 4:35 on my friend was bringing me home after a fun weekend, as I do not have a car, and he wanted to make sure I got home safe before the super storm hit. The cafe was reopening Feb 10th.

I was later informed that at around 4:56, my friend hit black ice and we °360 hard into a tree. I only remember seeing it about to happen and worrying about my glasses about to break, then nothing. Then looking at my blurry hand and even with my one good but still kind of blind eye, I saw that it was black; blue and I couldn't move it. Then I guess I said "well shit" and went to sleep.

I had broken not only my glasses trying to protect them, the fucking irony.. but my metacarpals; my nose, inhaled the chemical death from the airbag and recieved mild chemic Burns to face and throat. My smol rib cage was punched by the airbag so hard it got bullied out of place and was now compressing my lungs and a severe concussion.

My friend luckily being a 6' ft some man was set far away from air bag and being the impact was more my side, had only bad bruising to the limbs but okay. His truck now an accordion.

The doctor only looked at my hand and ignored my concussion, as I had an in the ambulance and was apparently making stupid nonsense jokes. So they assumed I was fine I guess.

I had to call in to my job and sadly tell them the news I would not be able to work for maybe a few months.

A month later while home and coming down the stairs, I suddenly could not breathe and got light-headed. Not good when you on stairs. I ended up refuckin up my metas and now add broken tail bone to the list.

My return to work just went from hopeful 3-4 months to 6. I was not financially equipped for this

But wait rogue! The unemployment!

Ah yes. The fucking thing that would fuck me harder then the airbag and stairs combined.. You see:

I had asked everyone I knew that had ever collected unemployment before what to do and even the girl who did the disability thing: for I was unable to work; disability would not kick in until at least a month. I got bills men, life don't stop cause bad shit you know?

Everyone told me, collect unemployment until Disability kicked in. Then stop. Okay.. these 6 people would know best right? Dingdong: unfortunate event #3 so far:

By the time disability kicked in I had collected $700 caps. Nice! Right? Well my honest naive ass thought how you cancelled unemployment was to tell em to cease and why. So I did.I explained what happened. This proved to be the biggest mistake of my pathetic life and installed the lesson of "don't be honest with big brother." They said "oh no you got injured? Well guess what fucko. You now have to pay back the $700, or else and guess what, we adding an bonus fuck you of $200 ."

Hahahahahaha-what?

I'm not able to work; disability only gave$100 some and I got friends and family I am in debt to for helping during these shenanigans.

Then unfortunate events #4-#9 took place. my aunt died.

I had to be hospitalized for pancreatitis; kidney stones and infections a few times, sometimes for all em at once.

Then my dog prostate cancer became apparent and despite the medicine and surgery every thing that could hell, he had to leave us for the rainbow bridge.

Than my grandma's car died again.

Then my stepmother died.

Grandma had to get surgery for her knees and began to complain of occasional blindness and migraines.

Went back to work early because you guys do what you gotta do man, only it's 7 months later and in a couple more, the fucking Cafe is going to close again.

By the time it did, I had been using every paycheck to catch up on bills; pay back the my friends and family lent, paying the late bills from my dog and car repairs, back owed payment and feedback to the student loan. and just as I had started seeing the light at the tunnel.. we closed and I wasn't prepared.

Unemployment have nothing but the middle finger.

It'll be fine.. I can handle a month. It'll suck but-

ITS NOW MAY AND THEY AIN'T OPEN.

During the time I was laid off this year I spent my time as follows:

Joined Tumblr and began to meme to counter that bi-polar depression and made some friends, looking at you @m-is-for-mungo 😘💞💞

A man grabbed my hand that didn't heal right and squeezed it so hard he fucked the bone. Had to go back to p.t. Hand once again fucking useless and I had posted about this way back, if you dig in my archive, you'll find the posts.

Applied for a state job at our prison with my friend whose already there, as kitchen worker

Got the surgery that I could no longer put off as it was too fix the anatomical problem contributing factor to my organs rioting like they do, but thankfully since it was considered life threatening, my insurance covered it.

Finally deal with death of my dog; and my family. Then my dad having a stroke and other family stuff.

Got that pesky rogue ribcage displacement taken care of

Fell down the fucking stairs again.

Adopted a special needs cat.

Became once again a financial burden and the moment I could, filled the still laid off time by trying to help my friend at their restaurant as much as possible.

Got the "we want you asap BUT thanks to state Bullshit like budget stuff.. We have to wait for the actual state to say yes" call from the prison call.

My uncle was discovered to cancer but by the time it was found, he had a week left. Then he died.

Got my shit broken by the scorned ex of our roommate

And then got the fucking letter from unemployment mildly threatening me to pay up.

But you said you didn't have a car in January 31st but then you do now??

After the car event, my friend told me to seek comp because I did get fucked up and being a baker who broke their hands, shit ain't good.. I did not want to because it was my friend, it wasn't their fault and if I had had my own car or just during go there in the first place this wouldn't have happened. Reluctantly after much badgering, I did.I did not get anything however until a year and half half later. and yeah, I’ll tell you how much seeing how Im being brutally honest: $10,000.

I immediately bought a $4000 car so I would never again be a burden and every single car I’ve ever owned have been $100+ garbage death traps I got from shady people and for once in my fucking life I wanted a car that wouldnt break down or try to kill me a week later; helped my grandma buy a car that wouldn't fail her, bought her a new fridge because hers died and paid some of her bills she got behind on. My friend had fallen behind on their bills as well and I owe everything I am and still being alive to these people.

You bet my stupid ass, I used almost every dime to help them. And id fucking do it again because: homies help homies.. And when your Nana whose been both mom; dad and nana to you and is the reason you weren't place in foster care needs you.. You fucking help her no matter what.I did have enough to pay the student loan for last month and this month. I got a new track phone because mine broke, bought a pair of shoes because I've only ever had my loafers and the soles fell off finally and I brought groceries. I have enough to pay rent and I am now tapped out.

My only debt is this $900 fuck you from the government and my $15000k student loan.

And now y'all caught up on the fucking disaster that is my life.

I'm sorry for this sobstory of me crying about my problems but i.. I really do not like asking for help.i hate asking for help. I hate that I have to ask for money because I've been in desperate shitty situations my whole damn life and managed to somehow scrape by but for the first time, I'm in a situation that I can't fix alone. And I fucking hate it and that I have to admit it. but I need help .

This is why I made the Kofi

A kofi that is absolutely only for and will only be used, to pay that $900. I promise you that even if I become homeless, I am going to pay that goddamn bill before anything else. Because I helped everyone with their debt and they are all good now, we all squared and now it's my turn to be okay glib-dimit

[yuna-dan]

Blame the kids (Interlude)

Yes, I know. But I did warned I wouldn’t be able to update as much. Sadly next chapter will proably take longer since I need to graduate and I fucking (pardon) failed maths and I need to passed because if i dont my parents are going to kill me and then I’ll kill myself. So I wont be that active since I seriously need to concentrate.

Also. Yes this chapter is important. Every five chapters there will be an interlude that’s kinda aside from the Logicality fic. 

So yeah. I hope you like this.

Summary: Logan was a dedicated teacher. Marion was a social worker with two kids. The kids were jerks.

Warning: Angsty. Cursing and mention of an intent of rape. NOTHING GRAPHIC. However if you feel uncomfortable skip that part.

Based on: Single! Dad with two kids and Teacher! Logic by @prinxietys (if me tagging you makes u uncomfortable make me know plssss)

Last Chapter here

Marion was smiling proudly for his new case; the little girl was hugging his new mama and the woman was kissing her head.

Someone tapped his shoulder and he looked over “Can I talk to you, Mo?”

Morality followed the man to his office after saying goodbye to the girl and her family, in there was a little kid who was sitting at the desk, moving his legs. He giggled.

“Alex, I've told you. Sit on a chair.” The kid rolled his eyes and jump off the desk, sitting on the floor. “Can you wait outside? Please I need to talk to–”

“Yeah, yeah.” He brushed him off and stormed out of the office.

“Look, Morality.” He grabbed some files from his desk, “I’m going to retire in less than a month and I wanted–”

“You want me to take the kid's case?” He finished for him, “Why, though? I don't have a problem but I'm curious.” He pursed his lips.

The older man pulled his white hair a little. “He's kind of a problematic kid and he'll probably will end up with a random social worker and I think that would be a lot for him to take and I also think you're good at your job.” He ended with a laugh.

“Sure. What's his name? I'll take him.”

“Alexander Sanderson.”

“Hi kiddo,” Alex was sitting outside the office with hugging his little legs. “I'm Marion Sanders but you can call me Morality. I'll be your new social worker and I'll help you find a forever home.” He tries to ruffle his hair but the kid flinched and Morality, who was kneeling beside him was slightly surprised.

“Yeah. Good luck with that.”

What the heck?

Marion was driving and the kid was in the backseat, looking outside the window.

“This is a tempora–”

“I know. I'm not new at this.”

“Okay, grumpy pants. You've got my number?”

“Mm-Mm.” He nodded.

"There are going to be other three kids in there, play nice kiddo. The dad is a mechanic and I’m almost sure the mom is a nurse, I don’t remember. I think they’re a nice family or at least they told me so. If you don’t like it there we can find another one.”

“Oh my god, yes I get it.” He snapped.

Morality laughed.

The only thing he hated about his job was paperwork. Why the heck do they have to make paperwork? Paperwork was a pain in the ass.

He was going through some of it when his phone rang, “PJern's castle, what's your hassle?”

“Morality?” the tiny voice of a kid informed Marion it was not the time for jokes.

“Yeah. What’s wrong sweetie? Is everything okay?”

“It’s Alex. I’m sorry to bother you or interrupt you, but uhm I think I’m in danger?”

“Okay, okay.” He has already outside the building. “What’s going on Alex?”

“So… Umm, all the kids went to the park but I couldn’t go because I’m punished, but I’m sure I didn’t do anything wrong…” he was stuttering, almost nervous, “And now Peter and Anna are fighting really loud and I think she’s leaving right now.”

Morality’s body freeze. He didn’t want to think on what could that mean. “Ok. Sweetie I need you to lock the door of your room…”

“We are not allowed to lock them.” The eight-years-old mumbled. “Something bad happened the last time.” He whispered, scared.

Morality pinched his nose, almost angry, “No. I need you to lock yourself in the room. Stay close to the phone. I’ll be there in five.”

The image of a forty-years-old man with no pants, blood on his fists trying to knock the door of a little kid is something he doesn’t want to see again.

Alex was terrified. He was holding a lamp as if it was a weapon and was shaking while silent tears rolled from his cheeks.

Morality had already called the police but he arrived first, and he was just outrage to see a man trying to take advantage of a kid like that... so he punched him.

“You know I can't tolerate that behavior,” Peter, his boss, said while they were in the hospital, “You should've wait for the police...”

Peter, also known as Pranks, was mad. He hated men who abused kids but he was a boss, and he needed to maintain an image, even if he hated.

Morality frowned but commented nothing. “I should freeze your license.” He said and Marion's breath caught on his throat, “but since you save a kid I will let this passed. Don't tease me though Marion.” He winked.

Morality sighed relief, “This is my life, thanks P.”

Pranks smiled and nodded, “Yeah, you owe me a lot, pie. Now go and check on your kid, he's probably scared.”

Alex was sipping his juice box, it's been two weeks since that horrible experience and he was still on the hospital.

“Hey kiddo,” Morality entered without knocking, “How you been holding?”

Alex just mumbled a 'mfine' and brought his legs to his chest and holding them there. Morality sat on the bed and Alex moved a little away from the man, making Marion a little sad.

“What’s going to happened to me? Where am I going?” His voice was harsh but the man managed to notice the fear on it.

“Remember that sometimes you stay in your last social worker house for a while?” He nodded, “You’ll stay in mine then your forever home will come next.” He added enthusiastically.

“Ok.”

Morality was driving towards his house keeping in mind that the eight-year-old might already arrived and cursing himself and his own forgetting mind. The reason?

Alexander didn’t have keys.

He arrived two hours later and he found the kid sitting in front of the door, doing homework over his legs.

“I’m so so sorry Alex, I forget that you didn’t have keys.”

Alex chuckled dismissively, “This wouldn’t be the first time I stay outside a house.”

“C’mon. Let’s start eating. I buy pizza to apologize and because you’re a piz-za of work…”

“Ughhh.”

Alex was taking out his homework when he noticed the rectangle form inside it.

“Fuck.”

He recognized it as the phone of Marion. “Shit, he's going to kill me.”

“Yeah, I noticed it.” Marion ruffled his hair while serving him the food.

“I'm sorry, I didn't realize it.” He whispered ashamed.

“It's fine baby,” the words felt easy on his tongue, “I don't mind it, it was a mistake.”

Alex smiled.

They worked easily. Almost as if they've always been living together.

Alex walk to the school to the house, he cleaned a little and prepare the table and wait for Marion while doing his homework.

Marion arrived, checked his homework and then prepared the food.

They work nicely. It was pretty.

“Why didn't you tell me you lost a year?” Morality was scolding him and Alex rolled his eyes annoyed.

“I already feel stupid, don't add it.” He snapped angrily.

“Hey, don’t call yourself that.” Marion said, but his voice was still mad. “Gosh, you need to tell me, I can help you Alex. You’re a kid.”

“You read my file, don’t you?” He raised up abruptly from the chair where he was sitting.

“We’re not done, young man.”

“I don’t care.” He yelled closing the door hard.

“Yeah, but I do.” He screamed back at the kid.

“You’re becoming a dad, bro.” Thomas snickered.

Morality just grumbled while looking up for courses that could be useful for Alex.

“I’ve got two good news for you, kiddo.” That was the first statement that Marion did when he entered his home.

“What?” He looked up from his homework.

“Summer is coming up, and I inscribe you to a course where you’ll get ahead. You’ll make up for the year you lost so when you enter school again you’ll be with the kids of your age!” Alex was raising an eyebrow confused.

“I-I…”

“And I think I found you a home! They want to try it! You’ll have a brother though, is that okay?”

Alex look shook and is he wanted to cry, “Yeah. It’s okay.”

“Good. Now, help me with the food. I’ll teach you how to prepare pasta.”

Few hours passed after that moment and Marion was about to check on his kid. He knocked on the door and opened it before he got an answered. “Hey, ‘Lex ten more minutes and lights out, okay?”

He was surprised when the little kid’s arm wrapped around his waist. Alex buried his head on his stomach.

“Thank you.” He whispered.

Marion gently ran his fingers through his hair. “It’s okay kiddo.”

Two months. Two months and Alex was doing greater than any house. Yeah, nightmares come and go sometimes, but Marion manage to help him.

Heck, even in school his grades improved. Marion sign him up for in course, where he could do his homework and improved his social skills.

“Why are there two teachers?” He had asked when Marion told him.

“No… It’s only one.”

“But you said them…” Morality could’ve ‘awwed’ but manage to keep a straight face.

“See, some people identified themselves with different pronouns. You’ll understand when you get older… or not. Either way I’ll support you.”

Alex was really confused but shrugged it off. “Fine. Thanks.”

“Bob's ambulance, you maul 'em we haul 'em.” He heard a snicker from the other side of the phone.

“Hello. Mr. Sanders?”

“Yeah, what’s up Mrs. What can I do for you?”

“Um, yeah. I called you a few months ago. I was considering fostering a kid, I believe his name was Alexander?” Her voice was soft and ashamed.

“Oh yeah. Alexander Sanderson, he’s excited about it.” He lied. Okay, yeah. Alex was kind of happy but he hasn’t comment anything.

“I’m sorry. I don’t think my family will be okay. I mean, we traveled a lot, and right now we finally manage to get a grip in our life I don’t think it would be fair for my son and Alex. We’ll be back but maybe in a year.”

Morality sighed, “Yeah. Okay.”

“You should adopt him.” Pranks said when he got in the house.

“What are you doing here?”

“Alex let me in. You need to adopt him. He’s stable. He’s okay. I came here to talk about what’s going to happened to him, now that his foster family, but he finds a family here! Marion!”

He shot a look at the kid sitting on the counter reading a book and his heart broke at the idea of separate of him.

“Maybe…”

“Kiddo! I’ve got pizza and a slightly bad news.”

“Why?!” Marion was slicing some apples for breakfast when the kid interrupted him.

“Why, what honey?” Marion turned himself to see the Alex’s eyes.

“Why do you fucking care?!”

“’Lex, you okay?” He gently let the knife over the table and went to the kitchen’s door and went

“Stop it!” Huge tears were rolling down his face and Morality was about to panic.

It's been a few hours since Marion dropped the bomb about wanting to be the legal guardian of Alexander and he didn’t even comment a thing.

“Is this about me wanting to adopt you, honey–?” Alex stomp his foot to the floor.

“Why do you want me?! Why do you care?!” Alex screams was frightening Marion. He has seen Alex shout in the night when he woke up from a bad dream but he had never seen the kid like this.

“Alex,” He reached to his head, trying to caress his hair but the youngster spat away his hand.

“My own parents didn’t care! They abandoned me like a fucking dog! Why do you even care!?” Or at least he understands that, since the crying didn’t let the kid speak correctly.

“Honey, don’t.” He kneeled in front of him and embrace the crying figure in a tight hug. “It’s okay sweetie.”

Alex, at the beginning, was trying to break free from the hug but Morality would just hold him tighter whenever he tried to get away. Until Alex melted in the hug and buried his head into the chest of his social worker.

“Stop caring so much…” He whispered.

Marion hold his head with his right hand and the other one hold his back, pressing their bodies together, “Can’t do that.”

Alex was in the bathroom cleaning his face. “I’m already late for school.”

Marion was outside it, waiting in front of the door, “I don’t think you can go.”

“Wha-?”

“You’re terribly sick.” Marion commented dramatically, throwing his hands in the air. “You are burning with feeveer. You caaan’t even walk from the sickness.”

“Are you feeling okay, Mo?”

“Not really. I think I’m infected with a weird virus…” Alex raised his eyebrow, “Maybe we should stay at HOME and rest.” He winked. “Let me call your director and Pranks. You go and put your jammies.”

Alex smiled, “’Kay”

They were laying on Marion’s bed. “I need you to talk to me.” He whispered gently while caressing his hair and removing it from his brown eyes.

“Why?”

“I want to help you, baby.” He kissed affectionately his forehead and Alex’s eyes watered again. “Even if you don’t want me to adopt you, I want to help you.” He keep caressing his head and with his thumbs removing the tears.

And Alex talked…

Im going to separate this into two because this will kept getting longer XDDD. I’m sorry. But I hope you all enjoy it! I really do! This was a hard chapter to write tbh. If you notice something worng or a warning i missed pleae let me know. Also I want to add that he was not... you know raped (I hate that word Im sorry). That, yes kids can curse. Yes his story be explained in the near future... hopefully. To that nice anon who send the lullaby Im going to used it :).

I appreciate all the feedback <3

Thanks for reading :)

[l-a-gage]

Billingsley The Working One - An Archaeology Story

Disclaimers So Pay Attention

This is a work of pure fictional satire.

It is not my intention to offend anyone or any academic field

This is just a shit post I wrote on a caffeine high of which I took inspiration from my Anthropology/Archeology professor (The story events not my caffeine addiction, I did a fantastic job myself with that one)

This is an exaggeration. None of the field techniques/operations in this are accurate. Obviously it takes much longer to excavate and date an entire site and several factors are involved in dating. I know this isn’t how this all works. I just dramatized it for entertainment so chill. (I’m looking at you Archeologists)

If you are sensitive, highly offended or an Anthropologist/Archeologist that cannot just relax, chill out and laugh at your own field for some fun then it’s easy as scrolling away or clicking the back arrow. I repeat just walk. Away.

If you’re still here the most important thing is this is just for fun. I am not being woke, or critical, or political, I don’t have an agenda. I’m just having fun combing two of my passions: writing and anthropology.

This is written in the format of a TV script so speakers are in front and any important descriptions are in asterisk. Now I will shush and please, enjoy and don’t be afraid to poke fun at the things you love in good spirit sometimes. It’s good for the soul every once in a while.

Billingsley The Working One

Marshall: Welcome to MainStream 27 After Hours. It's currently 2am on this lovely misty Monday morning. Tonight, we have a special segment on a piece of history of our very own little town. If you've been by Pickle's BBQ Pit, I'm sure you've seen the fences and crowd of college students. Turns out those kids in khaki shorts and baseball caps haven't just been standing around but uncovering part of our town's history that no one asked about. Local journalist Bailey Bales went out to the site earlier today to investigate. Stay tuned after the commercials and enjoy this pre-recorded interview. 

Bailey: Thank you, Marshall. As he explained, I'm at the site of a recent archaeological excavation being run by staff and students at Willinington University located just down the road from their proud football sponsor Pickle's BBQ Pit. Go Salamanders! *laughs* Anyways, here's Willinington's professor of archaeology to bring light to whatever is happening right now. 

*Camera pans to the right. A man stares into the camera. The frame quickly zooms out, framing Bailes and Andrew.*

Andrew: Hello people of Willinington!

Bailey: So what exactly are you doing here?

Andrew: Yes, my name is Andrew Niles. With a "U."

Bailey: A "u?"

Andrewu: A-n-d-r-u. Andru Niles. Head of the Archaeology department at Willinington University.

Bailey: Great. Why don't you tell us about yourself?

Andru: I'd be delighted. I'm the head of the archaeology department at Willinington University, 2 months and running.

Bailey: Where did you teach before?

Andru: I actually have never taught. I earned my P.h.D in London, traveled the world with my partner, wrote a bestselling book. I'm sure you've heard of it: The Anthropology of Archaeology: Get Your Story Straight.

Bailey: No.

Andru: No? It was a best seller for two hours.

Bailey: Where? New York Times?

Andru: You know what, nevermind. Now that I think about it, it wasn't anything that big. I'm sure you'd rather know more about what we're doing here.

Bailey: If you wouldn't mind, I actually have another appointment in an hour.

Andru: Oh! Uh, right. *gestures to the building behind him* This my friends, I think needs no introduction. As you have proven to us over the past couple of weeks with your eager enthusiasm is the very dearly beloved cabin and statue of Billingsley the Working One.

Bailey: One of our town's local figures.

Andru: Indeed, a statue thought to be dated two hundred years ago which is around the founding of Willinington. In fact, did you know that the statue is said to be the first structure of the town before any houses? It's amazing to see what people valued in those days, hard work and the sweat and blood on their skin. They would sacrifice warmth and comfort for this statue of honor.

Bailey: I thought it was dragged over from the old neighboring town that burned down when the towns merged.

Andru:...Really? Where-where does it say that?

Bailey: On the cultural heritage website. Under the "about" section.

Andru: Ah well that makes much more sense about why we're here. Anyways, for the past couple of weeks the graduate archaeology program of Willinington University-

*Something cracks near the building. Andru suddenly turns around and shouts something at a group of students.

Andru: As I was saying we have been excavating the building behind it.

Bailey: Not the statue?

Andru: Oh no no, we already know plenty about the statue and that can be moved with no problem. It's the structure we're interested in. That's what's going to tell us whether or not Pickle's BBQ can open another outdoor eating area.

Passerby: Get the *redacted* off of our land! You have no *redacted* right!

Andru: Lovely to see you too Jimmy! That's Jimmy, he's very fond of this building.

Jimmy: My great great grandpa and his father built that damn hunk of wood!

Andru: I remember! *Turns back to Bailey* So essentially Pickle's BBQ is wanting to expand their dining into this area. Well, this is federal land so we were called in to excavate the site. If that building is truly from the settlement of the town it has to stay. If not, we're going to disassemble it.

Jimmy: We don't need no damn Indiana Jones to tell us what we already know!

Andru: Jimmy! What did I tell you yesterday?

Jimmy: I'll be back!

Andru: I don't doubt it. Jesus Christ, where were we?

*Bailey looks up from phone*

Bailey: Oh! Uh, you were mentioning something about Pickle's BBQ.

Andru: Yes, so Pickle's BBQ wants to use this land. We're here to verify or debunk the authenticity of the building that is said to date back to the war, further back than Billingsley the Working One.

Bailey: And how will you do that?

Andru: Through free student labor. Grad students make for wonderful workers.

Bailey: What?

Camera Man: What?

Andru: *Laughing* I'm joking, just joking. Of course we don't use them for free labor. That would be illegal. It's just a bit of a joke between professors. We don't make them work for free. We pay them with a doctorate.

Bailey: Right. So really, how are you going to determine the age of Billingsley's Cabin?

Andru: Well, we've actually decided to take a different approach. University funds only last for so long as you know and I don't want to make the students spend their entire lives out here. *chuckles* That would just be cruel.

Passing University Student: I missed the birth of my first son because of you.

Andru: The pictures were beautiful! She looks just like your wife.

Passing University Student: *Redacted*

Andru: I really do love being out here with them, so youthful and full of energy. I really couldn't ask for better students.

Student #1: Dr. Niles! Peter passed out!

Andru: Call Jackson! Tell him it's Peter again.

Bailey: Do we-do we need to call the ambulance?

Andru: Jackson is our special paramedic on standby for Peter. This happens a lot.

Bailey: With the students?

Andru: No, with Peter. Poor chap, he's like my son.

Bailey: Oh. Um, should you go check on him?

Andru: He should be good, tough boy. So back to the building, we're currently waiting on Dendrochronology results to get a relative date.

Bailey: How long should it take?

Andru: Well, actually we just-

Pam: How are we doing Andru? Any closer to getting rid of this eyesore?

Andru: Pam, wonderful to see you! This Miss. Bales is Pam.

*Camera pans to a small crowd. The front lady waves. Several other enthusiastic people wave as well.*

Andru: *Offscreen* These are Pickles BBQ's biggest supporters. Well, some like Pam just want the building wiped off the face of the earth but there are some who are genuine supporters of small businesses.

Bailey: *Motions to cameraman* Let's get some interviews.

*Camera pans to crowd and follows Bailey over*

Bailey: Anyone interested in an interview?

Man #1: For what?

Bailey: For MainStream 27 news.

Man #1: I'll be on TV?

Bailey: Front and center. We'd love to share your enthusiasm and patriotism for your local businesses with our viewers.

Woman #1: Do we get a discount for promoting Pickle's BBQ?

Bailey: I'm not sure actually. This is just for the news.

Woman #1: No thanks, I don't advertise for free.

Pam: I'll do it!

Bailey: Great. So if you'll just-

Andru: *Off-screen* Hanna, call security. He's back again!

*Crowd screams. The camera whips around and zooms in on a figure leaping over the fence surrounding the excavation site. They grab an ax from their backpack and charge for the building, shouting something unitelligable.*

Bailey: Oh my god. What the *redacted*?

Andru: Everyone stay back! Protect Peter. He's helpless right now!

Pam: Get em, Victor!

*Two officers in blue rush out of nowhere. The figure takes a swing at the side of the building but Andru seizes his hoodie and drags him backward. "Victor" stumbles and swings at Andru. But he dodges just in the nick of time. The officers tase and tackle "Victor." A few boos and cheers come from the crowd. The officers carry "Victor's" unconscious body away.

Bailey: *Off-camera* This just got so much better. Marshall is gonna be so mad he dumped this segment on me.

Andru: Everyone okay? Check for any injuries. What's the status of Peter's ambulance?

*Camera Cuts to Bailey and Andru. Several officers are pacing around the site in the background. A few are stopping and talking to students.*

Bailey: That was quite the heart racer. Do you guys usually have to deal with such dangerous people?

Andru: Uh, it really just depends on the situation I suppose. Each site provides its own challenges.

Bailey: Have you ever been attacked like that before?

Andru: We should-should be getting back to the site. I'm sure the viewers would rather know about our progress.

Bailey: Did you go into the field expecting to one day have your life threatened?

Andru: Isn't your life always threatened every waking moment, really? Anyways, we're in the most critical part of Dendrochronology dating. We've called in a brilliant specialist Dr. Lui to date the wood of the building to see if this building is as old as the Billingsley the Working One statue.

Bailey: Yes, of course.

Jimmy: *Off-screen* I'm back and I've brought the historical heritage council!

Andru: *Waves to off-screen* Everyone's here then. It truly is inspiring to see a town come together like this. Whether or not they're on opposite sides of opinion, values, and ideology, this single building can spark such brilliant passion. It goes to show just how important our heritage is even on a global scale. It reminds me why I dropped out of seminary and booked it across the ocean with just my name and the bag on my-

Student #3: Dr. Niles! It's done! Dr. Lui finished her dating!

Andru: Brilliant! What is the conclusion?

*Andru jogs over to the tent beside the building and enters. The camera pans up to the top of the Billingsley the Working One statue.*

Bailey: *To cameraman offscreen* Should we pack it up and have them send the results to the station or just wait?

Camera Man: *Off screen and zooming into the statue's face* I say stay. I want to know if there's gonna be any more ax-wielding enthusiasts.

Bailey: *Off-screen* Hey-hey they're coming out.

*Camera zooms out and pans over to the tent. Andru, Dr. Lui, and a student walk out of the tent talking with each other. Andru nods and shakes Dr. Lui's hand.*

Jimmy: What's the prognosis Doc?

Pam: It's going down right?

*Crowd starts talking over each other. Andru raises his hand and the crowd falls silent.*

Andru: Well, through the work of these hardworking students, officers, myself and Dr. Lui, we can confidently conclude that the building isn't more than 100 years old. Meaning the building was built after the statue was moved.

Jimmy: Mother-*redacted*.

*Pam and a small group start cheering. The rest turn away slipping various weapons away.*

Andru: *To students standing around the site* You did brilliant work here this summer but as all good things do, it must come to an end. I will cherish these last few weeks forever. Now time to clean up and don't forget to turn in your journals.

*Camera pans to Bailey*

Bailey: Well I suppose that's it for this segment. What an exciting turn of events and you Barbeque fans will be excited to know that new outdoor seating filled with warm sunshine and fresh air will be expanded soon. Back to you Marshall.

*Camera cuts to Marshall in news station*

Marshall: Local restaurant Pickle's BBQ has decided not to expand it's seating by demolishing the building but instead to use the building as another area to dine in. Owner Mr. Jimmy Pickle expressed he believed in the heritage of our town no matter 100 or 200 years ago and has decided to preserve the local heritage spot. A wonderful turn of events. This has been Marshall Marshall on MainStream News Channel 27, have a great day folks.

[bnymedic]

First responder suicide – PTSD, or something else?

Its 1:30am. I sit on my computer in complete darkness, having just slept for the past 10 hours. As a Paramedic in a suburb of a relatively small US city, I work 12 hours shifts for 4 straight days. I get 4 days off to recuperate after that, and at this point in my career those days are essential for my survival. Many of my co-workers are not lucky enough to be able to stop at just 4 days, and must work additional overtime shifts in order to make ends meet. The private EMS industry has relatively low wages nationwide. We are the “red headed step child” of emergency services, often hiding in the shadows of police officers, firefighters, and nurses. There is no such thing as a “typical” shift when working in EMS. There are the occasional shifts where I will sit in the parking lot of the local convenience store chain for 12 straight hours without picking up a single patient. The glow of my cell phone screen illuminating my face for each passing person to see the life draining out of my body. The boredom sets in after hour 2.  My legs and butt hurt. I am hungry, but I can’t tell if its true hunger or just my body telling me to get up and move. I decide to walk inside to browse the aisles of colorful treats, getting nauseous at the thought of eating “lunch” out of a gas station at midnight for the 3rd day in a row. Despite my disgust, I walk outside with 2,000 or more calories of junk food at a time in an attempt to eat myself to death. “Ill be diabetic by the end of the week” I say to my partner as I open my fudge dipped granola bar. As the career of a first responder goes on, most quickly start to pack on the pounds like a bear preparing for winter. Company policy prevents you from sleeping during your shift, so your food (if you can call it that) is washed down with 16oz of your favorite energy drink to keep you awake and ready to pick grandma up off the floor when she attempts her 2am bathroom run. I have palpitations from all the caffeine. Hopefully one day those PVC’s turn into an arrhythmia and the lord takes me. “Anything to get out of this job” I say, as I polish off my second monster of the night.  Morning rolls around. 50mg of benadryl will help me fall asleep after drinking energy drinks all night long. I have severe shift sleep disorder. I am depressed. I just want to sleep. I wake up ready to go after just 4 hours of sleep. Great. Another night of pounding monsters. I punch in 15 minutes early for my next shift and am assigned a call before I am even scheduled to start. I am the only ambulance available in the surrounding 15 square miles of suburbia, and that trend will continue for the next 12 hours. Call after call, I don’t have time to finish my paperwork before being sent on the next run. Its 11pm and dispatch calls my unit number for the 5th time today– “With the fire department for a 1 year old post choking”. I have taken 50 calls of the same nature before and say out loud– “Great, another bullshit call”. Every day, nervous parents call 911 over the slightest cough or sniffle which eventually numbs you to the potential of a true pediatric emergency. Its never a real emergency. Until it is. Rolling up on scene after the fire department, I grab my house bag and begin to waddle towards the low income apartment building for the third time this week. I think – “I should have brought the tablet for a signature so I don’t have to walk back outside”. Suddenly, a firefighter rounds the corner carrying a limp child like he is holding an offering platter. “That’s not good” I blurt out , going from zero to 100 in the snap of a finger. The firefighter tells me the child was eating chicken and rice when he began to choke.  As my partner digs out the pediatric bag valve mask that has been sitting unused in the house bag for an unknown number of years, I set up the suction, only to find an unresponsive, apneic child with a clenched jaw. “That doesn’t make sense” I think to myself as I try to peel apart his tiny jaw without any luck. Thank god– he has a gap in his front tooth that fits a small, 12fr suction catheter. I start to go through the motions. Is he seizing? Nope. Any trauma visible or reported? No. Mom was asked again– and again says the child was sitting up, eating, and suddenly started choking. What is going on here? With little to be done on scene, I rush to the small local hospital, nervous that the next squeeze of the bag could lodge a piece of food in this kids airway. I am getting good air exchange but his spo2 isn’t amazing. He must have aspirated. Great news. He is now moving his arms, and his eyes just opened. Wait, why is his jaw still clenched? That’s not great news. This kid hasn’t made a noise. What the fuck is going on. As I roll the stretcher into the small emergency room closest to the scene, I am greeted with that dreaded sentence from the ER Physician– “why did you bring him here and not children’s hospital”.  I bite my tongue– its not the time to have that fight. The kid is now posturing. A few minutes go by and the doctor asks me to get my laryngoscope because the emergency room is not currently stocked with the proper pediatric equipment. Maybe he was right. The thoughts start rushing through my head– “they are going to kill this kid. I should have just risked it and bypassed. It was only an extra 7 minutes or so further”. As I sit there and wait for the next order, new thoughts take over. “Someone shook this kid. There is no other explanation”.  Hypertensive, bradycardic, posturing. But mom said he was choking on rice? Where would she get that from? Hmm. She doesn’t seem as concerned as a mother should be. She answers a text message while being questioned by the police.  She has yet to ask anyone how her son is doing. The texts start to come in to my phone. “Are you ok?”. “I hear you had a bad call. You guys ok?” “WTF was that all about?”. I am fine. Any provider who plans to have a lengthy career has to distance themselves from their patients. I can think back to every “bad” call I’ve taken, and never once have I been able to recall processing a patients face. Its not important. What they look like is irrelevant to my job. Its the circle of life. Some people live, some people die. Its my job to try and make that circle a little bit bigger if I can. Sometimes you are successful, sometimes you aren’t. You have to come to terms with that early on. Minutes after calling in service from restocking, the radio chimes my unit number again. “Cold response to the fitness center for a hand laceration”. I arrive on scene to find a psych standing out front in his blue paper clothes, clearly having been to an emergency room at least once today. “Hop on in buddy– take a seat” I say as I shake my head. We drive him 3 blocks down the street to the same emergency room we left just a couple hours prior. I am not greeted like one would expect. Not with “Hello”, not with “whats the chief complaint”. I am greeted with a sentence that is never good news. “Did you hear?”. Our child from earlier had been emergently transferred 6 miles away to the childrens hospital by a specialty transport team. The news from them was not good. “That kid – he has a brain bleed”. My suspicions were confirmed. He was never choking. Someone hurt this kid and tried to cover it up. I know how to handle this, because its not even the first time this situation has happened to me. People hurt kids often enough that I am not even shocked. Stories like this don’t make the news *for a reason*. People cant handle stuff like this. No one needs to know that savages live in apartment 3. Some people have to know though. WE have to know. Its not OK. I talk about suicide often. My previous partner was a veteran and has PTSD from being deployed overseas. He has had many friends commit suicide after returning from war, and was concerned about my mental health. That should concern me. He would ask me once a week– “Are you sure you are ok?”.  My little comments here and there come off as jokes to most people. “Id rather die than come into work tonight”. “Pull out in front of this semi truck– we wont feel a thing I promise”. “Stage for police? Fuck that. I hope I get shot”. In reality, its not a joke. I am not suicidal at this point in my life– I am apathetic about living. I’m not going to take my own life, but I am definitely not excited when I wake up each morning. This feeling has slowly crept up on me over my almost 10 year career as a paramedic. I tell myself daily that I need to get out before its too late. What will be the breaking point where I become truly suicidal?  I have to answer one question before I leave. “Where will I go?”   I am burnt out. Everyone says “go to nursing school”, but the passion– the fire inside that makes you want to help people has been extinguished for years. Where can you go at 30+ years old with a paramedic certification and no useful degree. I have made financial commitments at my age that makes starting from scratch somewhere at entry level wages an impossibility. What can I do? Where can I go? I am stuck. This job is like quick sand, and I’m up to my shoulders. If I struggle much more it will be above my head. We get to see what goes on behind the curtains of society. How much would you enjoy a magic show if you knew how the magic was performed? That is what life is like for many first responders. Members of the general public get to wear blinders during their day to day lives. There are people who post rants to facebook if the garbage man didn’t put their garbage can back in the correct spot. A terrible day for a typical person is a flat tire on the way home from work. They have no idea what happens in their town or city on a day to day basis. They have NO IDEA that 3 doors down, a husband beat the shit out of his wife for the 4rd time this year and she wont tell the police what happened. They have NO IDEA that people call an ambulance from the parking lot of an emergency room because they don’t want to wait in the waiting room.  They have NO IDEA that someone in apartment 3 just hurt their baby and tried to cover it up. But we know. We see it all. I have talked with a lot of people who have similar feelings. Its due to me being so open about my apathy towards life. People who I see every day, smiling at their coworkers and telling war stories and laughing. You would never guess these people were at the end of their ropes– fighting off their own demons. “Make sure they have bagpipes at my funeral”. I don’t try and talk these people down because they don’t want help. How could I help anyways? You cant just “un-know” the things we know. These people just feel comfort in the fact that they aren’t alone. I have been lucky that none of these people have taken their lives yet. I know the day is coming. Its been a long time since a co-worker has committed suicide, and the statistics say we are over-due. How will I handle it?

[that1emsguy]

Hello There

I am an EMT-B who has worked in EMS for four years(celebrated my anniversary on March 20th with a nice long 24 hour shift!), and have worked for five different ambulance services, four of which I am still employed at. Crazy hours, you say? I work a minimum of 96 a week! I am a representative of my fellow employees at my full time service, and a vocal advocate of workers in EMS being treated fairly and with respect at all the others. I’ve worked with a diverse cast of characters, from the jaded two or three decade veterans who have seen things that will make your blood curdle to the new guys who don’t know what they’re getting into, and everyone in between. I call them characters because I have not found an English word to describe human beings who are as excited, yet horrified, to be working in a environment that can, at any time, maim, injure, infect, excite, enthrall, addict, and scar one for life. My old, codgery EMT instructor put it best, “EMS is 90% soul sucking boredom, 10% sheer terror.”

That being said, my mission statement for this blog is three simple and direct goals.

First, share stories, legally, that don’t break HIPPAA laws. The stories of victory, defeat, the joy and the grotesque, the learning experiences, and most importantly, the calls that make EMRs, EMTs, Paramedics, and flight nurse go, “WTF?”  Wild stories, crazy calls, and black humor are a part of what makes the career worth it. It’s our duty to keep the tradition of cracking jokes at the expense of drug seekers, hoarders, crazy cat ladies and frequent flyers alive. 

Yes, I said dooty. 

Share thoughts, feelings, advice, and techniques to help others improve their skill set. Whether this is through sharing a story and saying, “Well, this was a difficult intubation, but I managed to secure it by...” or just sharing a how-to on how to legally protect yourself from a combative psych patient, or even just asking for advice on how to write a better PCR narrative, it can be shared here. I encourage it. 

Last but not least, this is a blog where I will discuss advocacy of EMS rights. We work a very difficult job, and more often than not it is for less than minimum wage, with terrible benefits, few days off, and not a lot of attention on our physical, mental, and emotional well being. A lot of communities, especially rural areas, don’t really treat EMS services or ambulance personnel as the vital piece of infrastructure they are. Work for a private service who treats turnover ratios like an inevitability instead of a problem that can be fixed? Talk to me about it. 

[613526362]

A Life and a Lie

Maybe if I just get this out It will help I'm lying in bed And I can't get out It's been two or three hours Since a phone call from someone calling about [redacted] courses woke me up. She wanted to complain about the prices a lot. I should have told her that I paid about six thousand dollars of my own money so that she can receive classes at this price. I mean I paid sixteen grand, but at least eight grand or so has been paid back to me. That doesn't add up but whatever And I just want to go to [redacted] next month and tell them, no, I'm not going to do your expansion to The Big City, because I don't make any money off this. I'm not trying to make even more not making money. I'm actually going to apply for other jobs just so I have a valid excuse to say no to them. When I drove up to work last night, there was police tape all around the ER. I guess a kid got shot in a car or something, and the car parked outside the ER was evidence or something. When I got in, that kid was gone, but there was another child who was stabbed. The way he screamed was haunting. Jesus we don't even take pediatric trauma anymore. But if EMS knows we don't, people out in the jungle still don't. They'll come forever. So many flashes of terror in mind. The resident wearing a "banned" shirt with two pistols on the front and "MOG TRAUMA" printed across them in stylized font. It's so cool for these twenty something doctors to see so many poor and black people shot. It's a fucking sport to them, and all that cool violence just soaks right into their walk, and clothes, and aura. They're so fucking cool for all this misery they walk past. The cockroach scurrying about of the box of IV flush that I grab. I'm told there's a room upstairs with tons of children's clothes in it, and there are just cockroaches scurrying everywhere. The beautiful medical and PA students. I try to teach one of them to insert IVs. She can't advance the catheter far enough. I take it, and twirl it in, showing her one technique to save the attempt. A nurse watches. The IV doesn't work, and when I pull it out, it's all distorted and twisted around. The nurse steps in to show her the "right" way to do it, humiliating me. I've used that technique a million times successfully, but of course the one time I'm showing a beautiful student who looked up to me how to do it, it fails terribly. I want to write her real name, it's such a beautiful name. She was Croatian. She was tall, and pretty, and I felt nervous next to her. I looked in the mirror shortly after I first talked to her. When I did, I saw my lips were terribly chapped, and I saw something black on my neck. I thought it was a scab from cutting myself while shaving (I also had a cut on my chin from that), but when I grabbed at it, it was actually a flea. It had just bit me and left a red mark. I killed it,and inspected it more closely. I wondered if she had seen the flea on my neck when we were taking. I wondered if the flea had jumped off a patient, or i f I just have fleas now. If they're in my bed. If they're in my hair. If I'm just living in fleas now. One of the five gunshot victims of the night had his sister with him. They were joking around while I was preparing the cast to keep his leg still until an orthopedic clinic could see the next day, and I caught something she said. "Wait, what did you say?" "Morgue Mog" "What's that?" "That's what they call it here, because everyone who comes here dies." I can just see poor black people, on street corners and in homes, talking about family members that I touch and I stick needles into and put blankets on. I can just see them casually referring to the place I spend 40 hours a week as "Morgue Mog." I work in a morgue. I find a library open the third floor, and that saves the night. I'm so excited to start using the library to study, but there's a passcode on the door. When I email the "library administrator" the next morning, she calls and says that the library is just for medical students, and my medical school isn't a medical school that's affiliated with the hospital. Crazy that I work here and get patients blood on my skin every single time I come to work and it's the students who are allowed to use the library and not me. They do nothing while they're here. Nothing. Nothing. So I'll either bribe the janitor to get me the code, or I'll send emails and harass uppers administrators to get permission to use it. Or I won't do either, because I'm just so tired of everything being a fight. I'm so tired of fighting. I just barely paid rent, but more bills are coming. I don't have the will to do any other things I need to do right now. When I got home I swatted at a mosquito ont he wall in the shower, and it caused the curtain rod to fall down and hit me on the head. It was a heavy metal one. It hurts now. I want to fast, and I want to sit in my room and pray. I want to study for the exam, or see my father. I just want to touch my fathers hand. I just want to hug my best friend's daughter. But I am alone here. I joined a Christian dating app. I just wanted someone to talk to. I purposefully avoided Tinder and Bumble because it's too romantic, too sexual. I just wanted to make a friend, but I couldn't find an app for friends that anyone actually uses. I guess everyone wants more than that in life. That's all I want. All of the girls whose profiles I like don't like me back. There aren't many people in my area, so I had to expand the geographical region I was searching in more and more. To make a long and cruel story short, I wound up accidentally talking to the cousin of someone I wrote about when I was on the island. When she found out who I was, she started worshipping me. Her "favorite cousin" had already told her all about me, how great I was, my work in Africa. And then, when we finally talked on the phone, she was so disappointed to find out that I care more about peoples bodies than their souls. She told me a story about bringing someone to Christ, and then she said, "I'm so sorry you've never had that feeling before." I informed her that I've treated over 60,000 patients in the last ten years, and worked as an advocate for abused and neglected children, and worked with communities in schools, and so on and so on, and I have that feeling every week. But that's not true. There's no gratification in anything I do. In her eyes I'm not even a Christian. It jarred me to have that conversation with her. To see myself as so wrong in her eyes. And it made it worse that she's actually done more more medical work in Africa than I have. She's just an EMT, and at 22, she's done more of what I base my whole life on that I have. A week ago I was in the closet at a wedding making out with the maid of honor. When she came to my hotel that night, I noticed she'd been drinking. I think sometimes women do that. I think they expect that they're about to have sex, and they just want to relax. Maybe the guy will be bad at it, maybe he'll rush it, maybe he'll do things she's not comfortable with. Best to drink a bit before it gets started, and then it won't hurt as much. But as Finding Dory played on my hotel TV in the background (I own the movie since I used to play it off my iPad for pediatric patients on my ambulance, but I've never actually watched more than five monitors of it), she was shocked. She was shocked how comfortable she was with me, she was shocked that I wanted to hear about her life, and was actually, genuinely interested in it. She was shocked that I didn't come closer to her. When we did finally kiss, and things got heated, I said, "We need to stop, or else we might wind up having sex." And she said, "No that won't happen." Oh it won't? It won't? You're right it won't. Because ten hours later, I had cuddled you and held you and showed you what love is really like. You woke up in my arms to kisses on your neck, I make you cum using just my fingers in the morning. And you beg me to miss my flight, you beg me to move to South Carolina, you beg me to get a condom and put myself inside of you. But you're right. We won't have sex. I just needed someone to hold I just wanted to not be alone. I just didn't want to want, for a minute. So I kept my underwear on, even though she pulled my dick out of them and put it in her mouth. I try to turn over,a get out of bed. She grabs me, pulls me back in. I tried to walk away from bed. She follows me and tries to push me back into bed. She's trying to rape me, but eventually she gives up. And I'm in another state for two days, to attend my assistants wedding. While people in the state where I was last year cry out for help from a hurricane. The exact city where I used to work 911 needs people urgently to come help. It's a state of crisis. It's what as a kid I always dreamed of happening. Hurricane Katrina. I wanted nothing more than to go and help. And now, when it happens, in the exact city where I worked last year, it doesn't. even. fucking. occur to me to go. I'm literally making out with some girl I'm not attracted to in a closet while people post on Facebook that medical workers are urgently needed in [redacted]. Boats are needed to save people. I pin her up against the door and kiss her, I slip down her dress and touch her breast. My soul is dead. I need to get out of bed and prep paperwork and equipment for my CPR clases tomorrow morning. Jesus, being a fake version of you is shit. I tell myself I'm trying to be like you, but I'm not trying hard enough for it not to be a lie. I am the biggest lie ever. I convince women of me the lie, my father believes in me the lie. Promise me you'll take me quickly someday. Promise me I won't have to deal with all the debilitating shit that I see patients slowly suffering and dying from each day. Or just don't hold it against me if I take myself. I can't do this for more than 20 more years God. I don't deserve that. I don't deserve a quick way out. But as I see how much a lie I am more and more, I just don't know what to do. Do I go back to church Do I settle down and give up on Africa Do I get more radical What the fuck Do I do Let me have a dog some day, God. Let it be a sweet dog, who sleeps in my bed with me and cuddles me, and runs with me, and loves me like I love it. And don't let it die God, don't let it die ever We do get more selfish with age We do forget about others and care more about ourselves Forgive me for what I have become god I am a life and a lie I love you God