#Medical Device Directive

[cmipooja]

Global Medical Device Testing and Certification Market Is Estimated To Witness High Growth Owing To Stringent Regulatory Standards

The global Medical Device Testing and Certification Market is estimated to be valued at US$ 9,687.7 Mn in 2022 and is expected to exhibit a CAGR of 4.3% over the forecast period 2023-2030, as highlighted in a new report published by Coherent Market Insights. Market Overview: Medical device testing and certification are critical processes to ensure the safety, efficacy, and quality of medical devices. These tests and certifications are performed to comply with regulatory standards and ensure that the devices meet quality and performance requirements. The need for medical device testing and certification arises from the growing complexity of medical devices, increased regulatory scrutiny, and the need to mitigate risks associated with device failures. The advantages of medical device testing and certification include improved patient safety, increased market access, enhanced product quality, and compliance with regulatory standards. Market key trends: One key trend in the medical device testing and certification market is the increasing demand for testing and certification services due to stringent regulatory standards. Regulatory authorities such as the Food and Drug Administration (FDA) require manufacturers to comply with rigorous testing and certification procedures to ensure that medical devices are safe and effective for use. This trend is driven by the need to prevent device malfunctions, recalls, and adverse events, which can have serious implications for patients and manufacturers. For example, in 2020, the FDA issued more than 200 device recalls due to safety concerns. As a result, there is a growing emphasis on testing and certification to ensure compliance with regulatory requirements. PEST Analysis: Political: The political environment plays a crucial role in shaping the medical device testing and certification market. Governments worldwide are enacting regulations to ensure patient safety and enhance the quality of medical devices. For example, the European Union implemented the Medical Devices Regulation (MDR) to strengthen the regulatory framework for medical devices, ensuring their safety and effectiveness. Economic: The economic factors influencing the medical device testing and certification market include healthcare expenditure, reimbursement policies, and healthcare infrastructure. As healthcare spending continues to rise globally, there is an increased focus on ensuring the quality and reliability of medical devices through testing and certification. Social: Social factors such as the aging population, increasing prevalence of chronic diseases, and rising awareness about patient safety are driving the demand for reliable and safe medical devices. This, in turn, fuels the need for rigorous testing and certification. Technological: Advancements in technology, such as the development of complex medical devices and the integration of artificial intelligence and Internet of Things (IoT) in healthcare, present new challenges and opportunities for testing and certification. Technological advancements require comprehensive testing procedures to ensure the reliability and functionality of these advanced medical devices. Key Takeaways: 1. The Global Medical Device Testing And Certification Market Demand is expected to witness high growth, exhibiting a CAGR of 4.3% over the forecast period. This growth can be attributed to increasing regulatory standards and the need to ensure patient safety. 2. North America is expected to dominate the market due to stringent regulatory requirements, advanced healthcare infrastructure, and a strong presence of key players.

[the-path-to-redemption]

To bleach my brain a bit after learning about the Silver Bullet Brotherhood (wholly against my will), I want to think about Faunus healthcare.

And I'm not just talking about the one instance in V7 where we saw a Faunus client of Pietro leaving his place with a prosthetic arm, I want to talk about every aspect of Faunus healthcare depending on their trait. Because what if a cattle-type Faunus needed help with their overgrown hooves? What about avian-type Fauni with difficulty growing feathers due to a lack of proper care in areas where they cannot get supplies for maintaining their wings? Faunus with double sets of ears requiring noise cancelling headphones or similar aids to help them navigate life, Faunus with extreme visions needing glasses to help them see better, or even aquatic-type Fauni who need medication to stay above water for long periods of time? How does healthcare works in Remnant when you factor in Faunus physiology?

We can also explore how the kingdoms of Remnant perceive Faunus health; not just providing the proper services, but in education and such. Not to mention the absolute medical bias that human doctors might have against Faunus patients that no one cares about because they do not understand their conditions, or more realistically in the case of Atlas and Mistral, doesn't care to learn about. How are Faunus doctors treated by their colleagues and patients? What about practices that takes in cases like the ones mentioned above? Are they allowed to operate or has their governments jump over as many hoops as possible to make licensing their methods harder? How many Faunus had to take extreme measures to give themselves healthcare because their conditions weren't accounted for? How many died because of this?

There's so much to do with this storyline and ways to add in its social aspects into the world building of Remnant, I can be here all day talking about it. But guess not.

[materialisnt]

the fact that mobility aids are advertised towards medical professionals is so ridiculous. theyll produce the most boring sanitized videos and images of cripples who arent even allowed to smile or frown or fart or do ANYTHING as the nurse transferring them rolls them into a sling and hoists them into a lift. not even when demonstrating the "open leg position" like come ON. you know if crips were running this shit itd be the funnest shit imaginable. if you were dangling from the ceiling on your personal lift in the open leg position youd be having a fucking blast and everyone would know it: everyone SHOULD know it. we cant stand but we can have a good time!

[goryhorroor]

masterpost of horror lists

here are all my horror lists in one place to make it easier to find! enjoy!

sub-genres

action horror

analog horror

animal horror

animated horror

anthology horror

aquatic horror

apocalyptic horror

backwoods horror

bubblegum horror

campy horror

cannibal horror

children’s horror

comedy horror

coming-of-age horror

corporate/work place horror

cult horror

dance horror

dark comedy horror

daylight horror

death games

domestic horror

ecological horror

erotic horror

experimental horror

fairytale horror

fantasy horror

folk horror

found footage horror

giallo horror

gothic horror

grief horror

historical horror

holiday horror

home invasion horror

house horror

indie horror

isolation horror

insect horror

lgbtqia+ horror

lovecraftian/cosmic horror

medical horror

meta horror

monster horror

musical horror

mystery horror

mythological horror

neo-monster horror

new french extremity horror

paranormal horror

political horror

psychedelic horror

psychological horror

religious horror

revenge horror

romantic horror

dramatic horror

science fiction horror

slasher

southern gothic horror

sov horror (shot-on-video)

splatter/body horror

survival horror

techno-horror

vampire horror

virus horror

werewolf horror

western horror

witch horror

zombie horror

horror plots/settings

road trip horror

summer camp horror

cave horror

doll horror

cinema horror

cabin horror

clown horror

wilderness horror

asylum horror

small town horror

college horror

plot devices

storm horror

from a child’s perspective

final girl/guy (this is slasher horror trope)

last guy/girl (this is different than final girl/guy)

reality-bending horror

slow burn horror

possession

pregnancy horror

foreign horror or non-american horror

african horror

spanish horror

middle eastern horror

korean horror

japanese horror

british horror

german horror

indian horror

thai horror

irish horror

scottish horror

slavic horror (kinda combined a bunch of countries for this)

chinese horror

french horror

australian horror

canadian horror

decades

silent era

30s horror

40s horror

50s horror

60s horror

70s horror

80s horror

90s horror

2000s horror

2010s horror

2020s horror

companies/services

blumhouse horror

a24 horror

ghosthouse horror

shudder horror

other lists

horror literature to movies

techno-color horror movies

video game to horror movie adaption

video nasties

female directed horror

my 130 favorite horror movies

horror movies critics hated because they’re stupid

horror remakes/sequels that weren’t bad

female villains in horror

horror movies so bad they’re good

non-horror movies that feel like horror movies

directors + their favorite horror movies + directors in the notes

tumblr’s favorite horror movie (based off my poll)

horror movie plot twists

cult classic horror movies

essential underrated horror films

worst horror movie husbands

religious horror that isn’t christianity 

black horror movies

extreme horror (maybe use this as an avoid list)

horror shorts

[lokisgoodgirl]

Clean [Loki x Reader]

A link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: After a difficult mission, your ex Loki has a revelation. (w/c 1.6k) Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Mild angst. Pining. Feelings. Smuttish. Loki x Fem Reader. A/N: I'm planning some filthy stuff soon - but for now, we're still in angsty romance era. 😇

Loki sat hunched with his back against the bathroom wall, head in his hands. Blood was smeared over the white shirt: his own and not his own. It was ripped in several places, sleeves folded up to the elbows.

“It wasn’t locked,” you said stiffly, fingers tightening around the knob. “Would it have mattered? I expect you’re quite desperate to see me like this.” He tilted his head, voice sharp, eyes tired. “Don’t you wish to capture the scene on your device? Surely Rogers would relish a commemoration of my ineptitude.”

Loki had made a scene as the team exited the Quinjet, throwing his ruined suit jacket off the roof of Stark Tower and kicking a fire bucket for good measure. His voice was choked with anger.

“Let me be,” he’d roared after Steve shouted something about medical in his direction. The Captain had turned to the rest of you with a defeated shrug, but your eyes hadn't left Loki's back as he waged a path though the doors and they slammed behind him in a flash of green.

Loki had taken the worst of the heat from the Hydra agents working undercover in downtown Chicago. He’d been cornered by three of them, and soon a capture order had turned into a triple kill—but not before taking some punishment for his efforts.

‘I tried to subdue them humanely,’ Loki had muttered afterwards, inspecting a deep gash on his forehead in the Quinjet’s sheen. ‘They wouldn’t listen to reason.’ ‘How hard did you try?’ Steve had sniped. ‘We’re in a pickle now, thanks Laufeyson. A real pickle indeed. Typical.’ To that, Loki had said nothing. He’d refused all clean-up on the way home, sitting in a fury-riddled silence that tainted the re-circulated air.

You took a step over the bathroom’s boundary, and then shrank back.

Relations between you had been frosty since you’d gone your separate ways: to this day you weren’t quite sure what had happened. One day, everything was perfect. The next—it was over. You’d chalked it up to the god settling in to life on Earth; him realising you weren’t the only person on the planet who thought the sun shone from his perfectly formed arse…but that had never felt right. Despite snooping, you’d never got a whiff of him shagging anyone else. Based on your experience with Loki, that was especially odd.

You took a deep breath, crossing the floor and extending a hand. To your surprise, he took it and heaved himself up. Fuck, you’d forgotten how heavy he was; how his forearms bulged when they flexed, how his body felt pressing down on yours as he railed you gently on the bed you’d shared.

Ok, maybe not that last one. You cleared your throat, pulling your hand back. Loki sighed, eyes cast to the floor.

“I’m filthy,” he said with an air of disgust, reflexively running a hand across his waist. Pain rippled across his features.

“You’re hurt, you need to go to—” “I’m quite well.” “Loki,” you warned. His lashes fluttered up, nailing his gaze to yours. An eyebrow cocked. Feeling your cheeks heat, you turned and switched on the shower. “Steve shouldn’t have spoken to you like that earlier,” you said, trying to keep the flurry of nerves from your voice. “You did what you had to do—they’d have killed you.” “Please,” Loki snorted. “They would not have killed me. I’m offended that you would even imply it.” You glanced over your shoulder. Even in his dishevelled state, he was giving every inch the haughty, regal snob that you’d fallen desperately in love with. And that was the problem, wasn't it? It was the only version of him you'd ever been granted.

“Then why are you in such a state?” Loki’s brow furrowed. “A what?” “Why are you upset?” “I’m not upset.” “You were literally sitting on the floor with your head in your hands.” “It’s an Asgardian victory custom.” “Loki…”

His jaw clenched as you leant against the sink and his keen eyes darted over your face. “I…tried not to kill them,” he said through gritted teeth. It was the same voice he’d used when the two of you had ‘the conversation’—you hadn’t heard it since. An icy finger trailed down your spine at the bitterness in his voice as he said, “I failed.”

Understanding blossomed through your mind. You remembered a cold winter’s night, Loki curled naked against your back, confessing his deepest secret while he thought you’d slept. I’m afraid I’ll never be good, he’d whispered in the dark; that I’ll always be stained with the curse of my past.

You realised the mask of stoicism had slipped from your face at the exact moment Loki’s expression shifted. His gaze broke, returning to the floor. “You should leave,” he said. “You’re not safe with me.” The echo of the last time you’d been alone together—the same words. Does he remember?

Pushing off the sink, you shuffled towards him, cupping his forearm. The grit of dried blood rubbed beneath your fingertips as you squeezed. “You can’t think that. It’s been years…”

Suddenly Loki’s hands ran up your cheeks, thumbs pressing into your jaw as your back met the wall. He’d pinned you under the shower, speckles of water hitting off his shoulder and splattering your skin. His eyes searched yours: all fire, and destiny.

“I’ll never be free,” he said. His gaze dropped to your lips and back to your eyes. “I’ll never be clean.”

You caressed the well-trodden path his buttons made up the front of his shirt. Still beautifully tailored despite the dirt, and sweat, and blood. “Not with that attitude,” you said, and his brows peaked. “Everyone knows your history, Loki. We need you here. We want you here.” “And you?”

The shower seemed very loud all of a sudden. Especially me. “You really have to ask?” You brushed the sides of his shirt apart and Loki swallowed, his eyes closing a heartbeat too long as your fingers lingered on the bruise forming over the flat of his abdomen. “Loki…” you chided, tracing the blossom of indigo across his alabaster skin. “Steve was right, you should be in medical.” He snorted, hands falling by his sides. “If you’d come five minutes later, it would have been gone.” Fat droplets of water roll over the tips of his cheekbones, streaks of pale skin beneath the dust and dirt of the mission. You’ve never seen him like this. He never let you see anything other than the perfect prince; the unshakeable god. “Doesn’t it hurt?” You circled higher on his chest, appreciating the taut skin firm beneath your own. You'd swear you could see the thrum of his heartbeat.

“Always,” he said sadly, and something in his voice told you he wasn’t talking about the injuries. God, I miss this. I miss him. Now, finally, you could admit it to yourself. The weight of the confession slid from your body, circling the drain as Loki shivered, and the dark pools of his pupils spread wider.

Cautiously, your hands ran up his chest, over his shoulders, peeling the soaking shirt from his back and down his arms. It fell with a slop to the shower floor.

“What are you doing?” he asked with a faint narrow of his eyes. You licked your lips, unsure of what how to answer. What are you doing? But it was now or never. This kind of vulnerability was a particularly rare ship to dock in Loki’s harbour.

Running your palms up his neck, he groaned softly as they slid up the sharp prow of his jawline, up the bladed cheekbones and into the slick of his sodden hair. He closed his eyes, a low sigh rattling his chest. For a moment, there was only the patter of water against porcelain.

“Showing you how to be clean again,” you whispered before your lips fastened to his. Loki’s eyes shot open, one hand slamming to the tiles behind your shoulder to steady himself as you pulled away. Your heart thumped between your ribs.

Oh god, he doesn’t want it. You’ve fucked it up. Memories of the longing glances you’d seen painted on his face across the room, the brush of his touch on your arm which lasted a second too long, the anger simmering beneath his skin when he thought you’d moved on. It had all been in your head. The thought was almost too much to bear.

“Why did you stop?”

Breath caught in your throat as his words soaked through the rising steam; low and smooth. The response fell from your mouth in breathless stages, hyper-focused on the shirt plastered to his skin. “I didn’t think you wanted it, I’m sorry I—” A soft, disbelieving chuckle rumbled in his throat before he said, “How could I not want you?” Your eyes rose.

The god was fully soaked now; hair plastered to his neck like ink, shirt and trousers moulded to the sinews and meat of his body like a second skin. The last traces of dirt from his skin were gone, and the water around your feet ran clear. You pulled the back of his neck towards you.

Loki’s kiss was an eruption of desire, of pain, of need; his palm slipping on the tile behind your head before switching to your waist. It worked over your hip, your breasts, your ass, never staying in one place, never lingering too long. “Gods, I missed you, I've missed you,” he murmured wet against your cheek. You crossed your arms over your chest, pulling the sodden top over your head. “So soon?” A soft smile curled at his mouth. “We’ve wasted enough time, haven’t we?”

In answer, Loki ran a finger from the hollow of your neck between your breasts. A chill skated across your skin as your trousers dissolved— his too. He pressed his body to yours, warm against the sharp sting of the tiles. Water pooled in the crevice where your skin met, Loki’s kisses sliding over your lips—one slipping into the next—pants of devotion wisping down your throat. He lifted your thigh, manoeuvring himself inside with one, liquid movement. You clasped to his shoulders, nails digging in to his flesh like he might vanish. All you could feel was his body, his presence, his faint moan of relief in your ear.

“No more living in the past,” you panted. “Loki, promise me.” He tilted his cheek into your wrist, water droplets falling from the ends of his hair to the curve of your breasts below. “A fresh start,” he said quietly, kissing the delicate skin. You groaned as he thrusted gently inside you. “Clean,” he panted, “New.” “Together,” you said. “Together,” Loki replied.

And then, among plumes of steam and the slide of bodies and wordless promises, there was no more talking.

Tags in comments ❤️

[that-neurodivergent-gay]

(not so) friendly reminder that a non-exaustive list of war crimes that isreal has committed is:

Wilful killing

Torture or inhumane treatment, including biological experiments

Wilfully causing great suffering, or serious injury to body or health

Extensive destruction and appropriation of property, not justified by military necessity and carried out unlawfully and wantonly

Intentionally directing attacks against the civilian population as such or against individual civilians not taking part in direct hostilities

Intentionally directing attacks against civilian objects which are non-military

Intentionally directing attacks against humanitarian assistance

Intentionally launching an attack knowing that it will cause loss of life, injury or harm to civilians or civil properties

Intentionally launching an attack knowing it will cause significant damage to the natural environment without necessity

Attacking or bombarding, by whatever means, towns, villages, dwellings or buildings which are undefended and which are not military objectives

Intentionally directing attacks against buildings dedicated to religion, education, art, science, charitable purposes, historic monuments, hospitals, and places where the wounded are collected, assuming they are not military objectives

Employing asphyxiating, poisonous, or other gasses, and all analogous liquids, materials or devices

Employing weapons, projectiles, and material and methods or warfare which are of a nature to cause superfluous injury or unnecessary suffering

Intentionally directing attacks against buildings, material, medical units and transport and personnel

Intentionally using starvation of civilians as a method of warfare by depriving them of objects indispensable to their survival

If you still think this is isreal defending itself, you're ignoring the signs. This is a genocide. These are war crimes. More than 25,000 civilians have been murdered. This is not okay.

Edit:

For all the people asking me for a source, here is a list:

https://www.hrw.org/news/2023/12/18/israel-starvation-used-weapon-war-gaza

Any of Bisan's videos/writings. There are so many people on the ground in Gaza who are documenting this. Stay safe and stay educated

[bombsonboard]

metal arm brrr

Summary: Every problem needs a solution. Bucky just isn't the biggest fan of yours.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 1k

Tags: Fluff in the highest degree, old married couple, Swearing (It's Bucky, duh)

A/N: I just needed to give you guys something, it's been too long since i've written on here and you guys are the best :) I've barely checked this over so I apologize for any typos.

*****

“Can you stop moving, please?” 

Bucky Barnes half asleep is not someone you want to mess with. The first time you shuffled he had hardly made a sound, the second you were met with a low grumble (a warning you knew well) and the third strike, he was thirty seconds from kicking you out of the bed. 

When Bucky had finally learnt to sleep in a bed again, mostly thanks to you, he steadily became a big fan of his beauty sleep and god help anyone who ended up disturbing him. He had a lot to catch up on. Once, you had violently shaken him awake because his phone was ringing and when he heard Sam on the other line, you were deemed a ‘sleep thief’ for a week and a half after. Bucky Barnes was a bitch when it came to his sleep. 

You usually wouldn't have any complaints about being in his vice grip but it was January and the nights were still cold and having a boyfriend with a metal arm meant that you were held to him with an ice cold grip around your waist. When the Summer came, it was a life saver, your own personal refrigerator but you still had a good few months to go before you were hanging off his arm everyday. 

“Sorry.” You mumbled and tried to convince yourself you were comfortable without another word.

Nope, can’t do it. You shift again. 

“You’re kidding- what is it?” He pulls away from you and sits up on his elbow, glaring, he dares you. “Go on.”

With the most innocent doe eyes you could muster you slip your bottom lip between your teeth and debate the argument you could spark when your gaze slips to his vibranium arm in the semi darkness.

He doesn’t miss a thing, you’ve come to realize.

“I swear if you say-”

“-It’s cold! I’m cold! It’s just too much cold!” You burst, arms flailing in desperation. 

“It’s my arm! You said you wanted to sleep on my left, this is my left arm, nothing I can do. Okay?”

“There has to be something.” You search the room for solutions, briefly lingering on the sock drawer. 

“Oh yeah, sorry, let me just take it off.” Bucky grunts, dripping with sarcasm. 

“...If you could?”

“Seriously, fuck you.” 

Bucky falls back into his beloved pillow, eyes shut and wishing he has chosen a partner that let him sleep peacefully, then again, why would he want that when you exist?

“Look, either come to the other side or deal with it.” 

Silence finally reaches your bedroom and Bucky is deeply in dreamland while you lie awake, scheming away. 

In the early hours, you slip out of bed without a sound and make a beeline for the sock drawer, knowing you had some old pairs of slipper socks stuffed at the back. Scissors in hand, you snipped off the toes and smiled at the D.I.Y leg warmers. Oh, he was gonna be mad. 

With nearly medical precision, you held out the slumbering Bucky’s arm in front of you and one by one, slid the fluffy socks up the freezing metal until it was sufficiently covered. Thanking the universe, he was a pretty heavy sleeper, you shuffled back under the covers and happily wrapped the soft arm back around your waist. 

You slept like a lamb after that.

*****

When the morning came, you woke up before him like usual and briefly left him to his own devices as you made coffee, two mugs sitting on the counter beside each other. 

Through the wall, you faintly hear the rising of the soldier before heavy footsteps quickly storm in your direction.

“The fuck is this?”

You look up to see him in the doorway, and find yourself the subject of a stare that would send millions running. Not you. The multicolored socks lined up his arm kind of softened his hoped effect and you had to stifle your laughter. 

“A solution?” You shrug.

“No.” He points at you with his flesh arm accusingly “Nu-uh. This? This is not how we solve things.”

“Is it not? I’m really digging the rainbow on you.” The giggle you had tried to push down had spilled over.

“You’re a fucking menace.” 

The giggle now a full bodied laugh that had you clutching at your chest as you were overcome with the image of your big, scary, ‘world’s most deadly assassin’ boyfriend glaring daggers at you while donning the most fluffy and most colorful socks up his arm.

Bucky was fighting a grin with all his might, your laughter was like an ugly disease, incredibly contagious, hard to avoid, and annoying.

Something soft hits you in the face and you halt your hysterics as you peer at the slipper sock now at your feet. Lifting your gaze, Bucky is smiling smugly, and working a second sock off his arm. 

“Bucky!” You yelp and duck under the counter as the rainbow sock flies in slow motion over your head. 

You probably shouldn’t poke the bear but-

“Y’know, for the best shot the United States army had ever seen you sure do miss a lot.” You taunt from your hiding spot.

When there's no response, you make a break for the couch and get shot squarely in the forehead.

“Say that again.” He dares with narrowed eyes.

“Okay, truce. Truce!” You raise your hands in surrender. 

“Say sorry for last night.” The pink ball of fluff in his hands, a deadly fate, and you’re consigned to concede

“I apologize for last night.” You sigh, approaching him with caution “Now, it’s been ten whole minutes and you still haven’t subjected me to your obscene morning breath.”

He beckons you with his head and you happily plod over, throwing your arms around his neck. The kiss is sweet, and full of promised mornings to come.

It’s welcomed by you. Until you feel the coldest thing known to man, his left arm, writhing under your shirt and sending immediate shivers down your back. 

“Bucky!” You screech and his strong laughter descends on your morning with malice.

Desperately wiggling out of his hold, you escape to the bedroom and yell from your stronghold:

“That was an act of war James Buchanan Barnes!”

[delicatewhumps]

lasting, visible impacts of a character’s injury.

scars!! so many possibilities. hidden, so that only the character is reminded of them; this can go great for intimate reveals with a loved one. or what if the scars are big and obvious? mottled burn scars climbing up an arm, a surgical scar winding around the side of their head, slashed scars from an attack on their face, or scarred rope marks around their neck!

canes, crutches, wheelchairs, walkers… any mobility aid. have they decorated it? do they use it with pride? maybe they’ve added spikes to the handles of their wheelchair, or whittled cool designs into the body of their cane.

glasses or an eye patch! or maybe even the lack of an eye altogether. combined with scars, this could be peak character design.

prosthetic limbs.. walk with me! facial prostheses, too. depending on the context / genre, you could go in so many different directions. fantasy prostheses are amazing. has the character built it themselves?

on the other hand, what if they choose not to have a prosthesis, or what if they can’t? a finger, a missing arm, a missing leg… a world of possibilities.

medical devices. maybe they need hearing aids now. maybe their injury has left them with an invisible disability, like diabetes or heart issues, and they need an insulin pump or a pacemaker! they could also have an implantable cardioverter defibrillator, which is visible as a lump under the skin of their chest, to jumpstart their heart if it stops. (these can come with a host of side effects…. for another post.)

as a disabled person, i just really love disabled characters. and i especially love when a character survives something amazing & they have lasting reminders of it.

[saphronethaleph]

The Deal

“Only through me can you achieve a power greater than any Jedi,” Palpatine said. “Learn to know the dark side of the Force, Anakin, and you will be able to save your wife from certain death.”

“What did you say?” Anakin asked.

“Use my knowledge, I beg you…” Palpatine pleaded.

“You’re a Sith Lord!” Anakin said.

He reached for his lightsaber, then paused.

“That story you told, about Darth Plagueis,” he said. “You mean – that was true? He really did discover a way to save people from death?”

“Yes, Anakin,” Palpatine agreed. “And I will-”

“So,” Anakin interrupted, frowning. “How do you know it? You said his apprentice murdered him in his sleep.”

“Because he taught everything to… his apprentice… before dying,” Palpatine explained.

“Again,” Anakin said, patiently. “How do you know it?”

“I was that apprentice!” Palpatine explained.

“So you killed your master in his sleep, and you ordered me to kill your apprentice, Dooku,” Anakin said. “You know, Chancellor, this isn’t a great job offer.”

“But think of what you have to gain, Anakin,” Palpatine said. “I can save your wife. Isn’t that what matters?”

“...yeah,” Anakin agreed, still frowning. “So when did Plagueis die?”

“About… fifteen years ago, now?” Palpatine said. “Maybe sixteen? Something like that. Why does that matter?”

“Just wanting to make sure I’ve got all the information, Chancellor,” Anakin replied. “Who have you been healing? Because I don’t actually think you’ve got any loved ones.”

He made a face. “Obi-Wan once took me aside and told me about what to look out for when an older man was going to try and touch me in the wrong way.”

“You see?” Palpatine asked. “He doesn’t trust you!”

“I see his point, though,” Anakin said. “Because you don’t have any loved ones that I can think of, like I say… so who have you been healing?”

Palpatine frowned.

“...why does that matter, Anakin?” he asked.

“Because it sounds like you learned how to do this at least fifteen years ago and you’ve never actually tried it,” Anakin clarified. “Which really sounds like you can’t do it, or even if you could before your medical license has expired.”

“I most certainly can!” Palpatine said, his patience fraying slightly. “Anakin, I am trying to help you!”

“Okay, then,” Anakin replied. “Teach me now.”

Palpatine made a face.

“If I do that, then how will I know you won’t betray me?” he said.

“...you’re saying that the only thing that would keep me from betraying you is if you don’t teach me the healing technique,” Anakin said, nodding. “So you’ve got no reason to get around to teaching me. I know how to lure an Eopie, Chancellor.”

“It will take too long to teach you, anyway,” Palpatine declared. “We can’t do it tonight. It won’t fit.”

“You’re really trying to help me, huh?” Anakin said. “Because all the visions I’ve been having about my wife dying are about it happening soon…”

He stopped.

“Actually, how do you know about that? I don’t think I ever told you.”

“Oh, please, it’s obvious that you’re married-” Palpatine said, rolling his eyes.

“I mean about the certain death bit,” Anakin explained. “It’s a bit of a guess.”

He frowned, visibly thinking. “And, uh… okay, so what you’re saying is that… you’re a Sith, you want to take direct control of the Jedi, and that’s because of the war against the Separatists, who were led by Count Dooku. Who was your apprentice… and then for me, personally, you want me to turn to the Dark Side so you can teach me a healing technique you’ve never actually used yourself, while you’ve killed the last two people who worked directly with you the moment they were no longer useful to you.”

Palpatine looked pained.

“That’s a very negative attitude, Anakin,” he said.

“I want to make sure I’ve got all this straight, is all,” Anakin replied.

Mace Windu’s commlink beeped, in a specific pattern that indicated it was a member of the Council.

“Windu here,” he said, raising the device to his ear.

“Master, I quit,” Anakin told him. “Also I married Senator Amidala at the start of the war, Palpatine was the Sith Lord, and I’d quite like to sleep for a week at some point. I’ve had a very long day.”

“...what?” Mace asked, a bit overloaded himself.

“Like, I’m pretty sure my day has had the sun go down three times so far,” Anakin went on. “Also the Chancellor exploded when I killed him. It’s okay, he was shooting lightning at me, that makes it fair.”

[spinningwebsandtales]

Imagine Having To Patch Soshiro Up After A Kaiju Attack

Soshiro Hoshina X FemReader

Rating: T+

Warnings: Blood, injuries, mentions of death, teasing, and kaiju remains

Word Count: 1k

(A/N:) I am enjoying the Kaiju No. 8 anime immensely and it's giving me all sorts of ideas to write! I have several more Kafka ones in my drafts and I want to write more for several other of the male characters. So keep an eye out I may write your favorite dude! I'm also thinking about opening my requests back up in case anyone has any Kaiju No. 8 requests, even though my drafts are insanely full. We'll just see but until next time happy reading! ~Countess

The suits made by Izumo Tech were a marvel of innovation and technology. Designed to give the members of Japan's fiercest warriors; The Defense Force, a fighting chance against the Kaiju that plagued their country. But still the warriors were only human no matter how amazing the suit.

Your booted feet thundered against the broken asphalt, breath heaving in pants as you raced across the now quiet battlefield. Just seconds ago it was Hell on Earth as you and your fellow soldiers fought for your very lives. But now Kaiju matter was splattered against everything. It was going to be quite the mess for whatever cleaning crew was open to do the dirty job. The attacks had become more frequent here lately, that the few companies that specialized in Kaiju clean up were becoming overwhelmed to get the different attack sights back to some semblance of normalcy for the citizens. But even that problem was far back from your mind. Only one person had you running so hard after fighting so intensely. Soshiro had gone silent after dispatching some of the smaller ones with his blades. You knew he had sustained injuries, but for him to go quiet, it wasn't a good sign. There was closer Third Division officers nearby but you knew with whatever stamina you had left you could make it. Your worries taking over any rational thought in your mind.

Konomi echoed in your ear, leading you straight towards Soshiro's location. Her frantic directions wasn't doing much to calm your nerves, but as an officer you couldn't let your anxiety show.

"Just around this corner," Konomi said. You thanked her turning down your communication device as you skidded around a pile of rubble. There leaned up against what remained of a wall was Soshiro. He held his side, eyes closed, and protective mask discarded at his side. Though winded and exhausted from the long race here, you gripped your rifle tighter the sling hitting your neck and tangling in the wild strands of hair that had broken free. Blood coated Soshiro's face and the fact that he wasn't responding to footsteps coming closer was more than concerning. Fear was beginning to grip your heart, when you finally got at his side.

"Two cracked ribs and significant blood loss," Konomi's sudden voice through the comm caused you to jump. "He's not critical just yet but I do have the medics on route to your location."

"I can staunch the blood flow," you replied. "I'll try to get him conscious again too."

"Good idea. I'll keep monitoring his vitals and let you know if anything changes."

"Copy."

Unslinging the rifle from your neck, you set it close by in case any threats remained. You removed the small med pack from your belt and got to work. Tapping at his cheek, you started working on getting Soshiro awake. Several moments went by and it wasn't until you put pressure on one of his worse wounds did he finally groan.

"Vice Captain," you continued to pat his cheek. "Vice Captain Hoshina! Soshiro wake up!"

He stirred, bleary eyes blinking against the bright sunlight before his gaze finally found you.

"Welcome back to the land of the living sir," you sighed in relief.

"So I died," he groaned. "And here I thought I was immortal."

"Well you didn't die but you do have a long road to recovery. You're pretty banged up and look terrible. The Kaiju Captain blew to smithereens looks better than you."

"Officer (L/N)," Soshiro groaned more as you wrapped several wounds tightly in gauze, "did anyone ever tell you that your bedside manner is garbage?"

"We're out on the battlefield and you're not laying on a bed sir," you grinned before going back to placing pressure on a wound that was too large for bandages. "Beside manners don't exist out here."

"Fieldside manner then," he glared. "And if you press any tighter to my side you're going to stab my lungs with my ribs."

"That's not me. That would be your suit keeping you from jostling your cracked ribs."

"(Y/N)! Vice-Captain Hoshina's vitals seem to be stabilizing more. Medics are inbound and will be there shortly," Konomi updated you and you acknowledged her.

"You had me worried Soshiro," you sniffed, hands stained with his blood. You had turned your comm off so you could talk with him in private for just a moment. You both didn't have long anyway with the evac team so close by.

"Sorry," he grimaced. Righting himself up more he wrapped one arm around your neck and pulled you in tight. "I'm sorry I worried you so much. I take risks but this time my decision wasn't the right one."

You held him as best as you could without hurting him further, "I'm just so glad you're okay!"

You hated crying but the relief you felt, had you breaking down in seconds. Soshiro wasn't used to seeing you cry and it broke his heart. Always the strong soldier, you couldn't help yourself around him as you wanted him by your side forever.

"You're not hurt are you," Soshiro asked as he stroked the back of your hair.

"No." You breathed deep, calming yourself and wiped your eyes. "Does that mean that I have surpassed the great Soshiro Hoshina in skills?"

"Absolutely not. We both know that my blade skills leave everyone else in the dust," he scoffed.

"Yeah but I didn't decide to use my ribs to stop a kaiju punch."

"Shut up."

You laughed kissing his forehead quickly, as it was the only place not covered in blood, as the boots of the medics came closer.

"I'm glad you're okay," you whispered. Soshiro couldn't answer as he was suddenly surrounded by several medical officers. He nodded towards you as you picked your rifle back up and started to go join the other members of the Third Division. The battle wasn't over just yet as you needed to look for more survivors. But you felt the burden lift from your shoulders knowing that the man you loved was going to be okay and was in capable hands. The fight with the kaiju continued on but if you stayed by Hoshiro's side you felt like you both could make the world a better place together.

[hannyoontify]

your cherry flavored kisses - choi seungcheol

member | basketball player!seungcheol x student medic!reader ft. the rest of svt

genre | fluff, high school!au, established relationship!au, secret dating!au(?)

word count | 2.8k

synopsis | as his mom always said, kisses are the best kind of medicine for boo-boos

warnings | cursing, kissing, minor injuries, one joke about sex, reader is a bit shy when it comes to relationships and pda, a bunch of romantic cliches but pls js let me have this one 🥲

notes | realized that i can’t write intimate scenes for shit!!!! but also happy (late) birthday to the best leader!! hope your day was full of laughter and love because you deserve all of it and more <33

The entire gym seemed to grimace collectively when Player #1 was shoved over by the opposing team member, and so did you. Choi Seungcheol, the captain and star player of your school’s varsity basketball team rolled over onto his back, clutching his knee and face scrunched up in pain. 

The stands booed when the zebra-patterned referee blew his whistle and signaled it as not a foul. Students and other on-lookers from both sides began to yell, petitioning that it was a flagrant foul, but the referee stood his ground. You and your friend Vernon ran out onto the basketball court with the stretcher as your school’s head coach tried to reason with the referee.

“Hey, hey. Seungcheol, where does it hurt?” Vernon asked as you set down the stretcher. You reached over and scooped your hands under the sweaty athlete’s shoulders, ready to lift him into the gurney. When you first joined your school’s new sports medicine and therapy program, you thought no one actually used the medical device and the school had invested in one just for show. Obviously, you now stand corrected.

“The area-” The brunette gasped for air. Every square inch of his face was glistening in sweat, the collar of his jersey absolutely soaked through. Seungcheol had been giving it his all this entire game, scoring almost 21 points and it was only halfway through the second period. This aggravated the opposing team, who were losing exponentially, enough for them to push Seungcheol over when he was dribbling down the court. “The area below my knee cap. Hurts like a bitch.”

Vernon nodded in understanding and glanced over at you. You returned his gaze with a determined nod of your head and the two of you gently lifted shifted him onto the carrier. 

“Sorry. Would try to help but-” Seungcheol’s words were cut off with a loud groan. “Can’t. Right now.”

You tightened your lips at the sight of his face stricken with pain and with the help of Vernon, heaved him up and carried the injured player out of the gym to the nurse’s office.

Once Seungcheol was laid down on a cot, Vernon ran off to find Ms. Jung, the school nurse who had momentarily left her post to “get some fresh air” while you looked for an ice pack. As soon your friend left the room, Seungcheol grabbed your wrist and pulled you closer from where he was lying down, forcing you to sit on the edge of the cot he was lying on.

You rolled your eyes and tried to pull away but he kept an iron grip on your wrist as he tried his best to make eye contact with you. “Are you mad at me?” He asked with a small pout.

“No, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” You huffed, refusing to face his direction. From where he was lying, Seungcheol could catch a glimpse of your side profile. Your lips were jutted out into a firm pout and your cheeks puffed out. 

“I’m sorry, love. I tried to take it easy but you know how I get-”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I just… don’t like seeing you get hurt,” You said, in a much softer voice this time. “Damn you and your competitiveness. It doesn’t hurt to lose sometimes, you know.”

Seungcheol smiled when you turned around to finally face him. “Look at me, I’m all fine! I was just fibbing on the court to- OW WHAT THE FUCK?!”

Your boyfriend yelled out in pain when you poked at his knee, right below the kneecap where he said it was hurting earlier. “Fibbing, my ass. Stay here while I get an ice pack.”

Seungcheol whimpered in pain, rolling around on his back with his arms clenched around his leg while you searched through the mini freezer. He watched from behind, staring at your hunched over form. Despite the extreme pain he was currently feeling, he felt a warm feeling blossom in his chest that spread throughout his body all the way past his limbs to the tips of his fingers. God, he cared for you so much.

“Here, I think we ran out of ice packs so you have to use this bag of peas,” You came back with half a bag of iced peas, offering it to your boyfriend who looked up at you with teary heart eyes. 

(FYI, they were only teary because he was in immense pain.)

After sitting up, Seungcheol accepted the makeshift ice pack and pressed to his knee, knowing how to treat his injuries better than you or any other sports medicine and therapy student. You sat down next to him, gathering your knees close to your chest and lightly resting your head on his shoulder. It felt like your heart was going to leap out of your throat because of your close proximity.

You’ve had a crush on Choi Seungcheol for as long as you can remember. In elementary school, you found yourself drawn to him because of how he selflessly gave away all of his candy during lunch. (Looking back on it now, you might’ve been attracted to the candy not him, but that makes it sound less romantic so you like to leave that part out). In middle school, you always caught yourself staring in his direction because he was good. He excelled at whatever he did. He always knew the answers in math and shared interesting perspectives in English for a middle schooler. But he shone in gym class. Choi Seungcheol looked invincible with a ball in his hands, somehow pulling off the tacky and scratchy gym clothes that smelled like a mix of sweat and old socks. It was in eighth grade when you started doodling ‘[Name] Choi’ in the back of your math notebook before erasing frantically whenever your teacher walked by.

In high school, it was no different, except Choi Seungcheol just got really, really tall and really, really, really attractive. He was scouted into the school’s junior varsity basketball team as a freshman and became a point guard for the varsity team as a sophomore. He was completely out of your league. Choi Seungcheol was the star player of your school’s basketball team while you were just a staff member in your school’s newspaper. The closest you’ve ever gotten to Choi Seungcheol was when you assisted Seokmin in interviewing him after winning a game. 

That was, until this past summer. You were taking summer school classes to make room for sports med. and therapy in your schedule, and your seat partner was none other than Choi Seungcheol, who had failed Economics the semester before. It took you by surprise that the smartest boy you knew since third grade had failed a class, but you thought it was impressive that he even managed to take Economics as a junior. 

You found yourself bonding with the star player, joking around during class and taking turns to take naps so someone could take notes while the other slept. The system worked, and the teacher looked like they weren’t being paid enough to be there, so the two of you considered it a win. The entire summer flew by like that, talking and hanging out with Seungcheol, even outside of class. This was when you learned about his performance anxiety, his self-doubt, and the pressure he feels from not only his coach and teammates but also the rest of the school. You offered him the most comfort you could possibly muster; a few words of encouragement and a big, big hug. 

When Seungcheol asked you out on the last day of summer school, you didn’t see it coming at all. From what you knew, he only recently broke up with his past girlfriend, the captain of the cheer team. Everyone had said that they were like a match made in heaven, but evidently not, considering how messy their breakup was. But who were you to say no?

Fast forward two months, to your current situation. You guys weren’t intentionally keeping the relationship a secret, rather you were just shy and Seungcheol understood that. He promised you to wait patiently until you were ready. 

“Can I see your knee?” You asked softly. Seungcheol nodded and took off the bag of peas, revealing his now bruised knee. The skin was discolored in different shades of blue, black, dark purple, and green and you drew in a sharp breath. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

Seungcheol pouted and pointed to his cheek, where he had a small nick, probably a scratch from the other player as he fell. You smiled and cautiously brought your hand up to his face. Despite having been dating for well over 2 months, PDA still felt a bit awkward for you. You occasionally held hands and hugged, and you liked to rest your head on his broad shoulders. Seeing Seungcheol’s face this close to yours made your stomach erupt into butterflies and you could feel the heat quickly spreading up to your cheeks.

“Let’s get some ointment on this,” You left your spot and began digging through the medicine cabinets, ignoring the hot burning on the apples of your cheeks. Going through every cabinet except the one that actually held the ointment, you talked loudly to yourself and Seungcheol held back a laugh at the sight. He thought it was cute, how flustered you got at the smallest amounts of physical touch. “Here it is!”

You ceremoniously held up the treatment and bandage box up in the air with a triumphant grin and Seungcheol couldn’t help but return the smile. Sitting back down next to him, you ignored the fluttering in your stomach again as you dabbed on the ointment onto your boyfriend’s face, trying your absolute hardest not to stare into his dark, chocolate-y brown eyes or his pretty pink lips-

“[Name], sweetheart, the scratch is on the other side,” Seungcheol said softly and you wanted to dig a hole, crawl into it and stay there forever. Your lover simply chuckled at your quiet ‘sorry’. “You’re cute.”

Now you really need to dig a hole. This was getting too much for you.

“Psh. Whatever,” You mumbled under your breath as you finished applying the treatment and brought out the bandage kit. “Stay still or else I won’t finish treating you.”

Seungcheol tried his best not to move when he felt your fingers lightly grazing his skin, sending shivers down his spine. It tickled, and he giggled.

You bit back a smile and lightly hit him in his shoulder for laughing. “I told you not to move.” 

“I couldn’t help it! It tickles,” With a small shake of your head, you put the kit away and sat back down next to him. Seungcheol stared at you for a minute before speaking again. “[Name], I think you’re forgetting something.”

You looked at Seungcheol with a confused look. “What do you mean?”

He crossed his arms across his chest with a pout. “Aren’t I supposed to get a lollipop for being a good patient?”

God, he was not good for your heart.

“How could I possibly forget?” With a fond smile, you handed him a bright red heart shaped candy on a stick. “You have been a good boy, have a lollipop!”

Seungcheol’s eyes twinkled at your reference to one of his favorite movies and gratefully took the candy. “Okay, now one last thing.”

“What?”

He pointed towards his injured knee. “You need to kiss it to make it feel better! It’s a part of the official medical procedure. My mom said so, and she’s a nurse.”

You rolled your eyes at your boyfriend’s childish antics but nonetheless bent over to kiss his knee. “And when’s the last time she’s said that to you?”

Seungcheol thought about it. “When I was four or five. But it’s you, so it’s gonna work, I promise,” He beamed triumphantly and pointed towards his right wrist, where he had injured it last season. “Here too.”

Thus began a little game, where Seungcheol pointed at all of his injuries, new and old, and you would follow wherever his finger pointed to kiss it and make it feel better. It was his knee, then his wrist, his elbow, his shoulder blade, his collar, all the way up to his cheek.

Your face is inches away from Seungcheol’s and you were pretty sure he could hear your accelerating heartbeat that thrummed loudly in your chest and ears. The sudden close proximity makes your breath hitch as you glance down at the candy stick that stuck out past his pretty lips. The warmth that radiated off his body sent chills down yours as you locked eyes with him. 

You felt sick. You really, really needed to dig a hole.

With your hands fidgeting in your lap, you leaned in closer, almost feeling drawn to his presence, like a moth drawn to a light or a sailor drawn to the sweet melodies of a siren’s voice. You wondered if Seungcheol would also lead you to your demise, just like those sirens. 

He leans in even more, his warm breath ghosting over your lips. The lollipop was nowhere to be found but you could still smell the overly sweet artificial cherry flavor and you licked your lips. If you moved just the slightest bit, your lips would graze his. 

“Cheol... can I kiss you?” The words leave your mouth without thinking and you want to kick yourself. 

Seungcheol pulls away for a second to get a better look at you, his eyes darting between your eyes and your lips. “I’d be pretty sad if you didn’t.”

That was all the confirmation you needed before you screwed your eyes shut and pressed your lips against his. You felt your teeth knock against his and you winced, but Seungcheol didn’t seem to mind. His hands naturally find the side of your face and waist as he gently pulls you in deeper into the kiss. Your hands remain in your lap, ever fidgeting and fussing at the new feeling. 

His lips tasted like cherry. A swirling combination of the cherry flavored lollipop and his cherry flavored chapstick he always wore before his games. He claimed that his lips get chapped easily during the game when you questioned him about it once. You decided that this was your new favorite flavor. Combined with the feeling of his soft lips against yours, you wondered how you made it this far without kissing him. 

Seungcheol pulls away hesitantly, his hands still on their respective places on your cheek and waist. “Too much?”

You shake your head with a smile. “You taste like cherries. I like it.”

He took that as a sign to continue and pulled you back in. This time you were prepared and angled your face so as to not bump your teeth with his again. You smiled into the kiss, the fluttering feeling in your stomach making you feel even more giddy than before. One hand slowly made their way onto Seungcheol’s shoulder, gripping onto his jersey as his lips captured yours.

“So that’s why our captain’s been in a good mood lately.”

You basically shriek as you frantically pull away from Seungcheol, who seemed just as surprised to see his entire (sweaty) team standing by the entrance. In the front leading the group was Yoon Jeonghan, another star player who co-captained the team and Seungcheol’s best friend. He stood by the doorway with his arms crossed, an amused smirk pulling at his lips. You could see the rest of his teammates standing behind him, noticing Mingyu and Soonyoung who seemed excited out of their minds to catch their captain in love.

“Go awayyyy,” Seungcheol complained, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. “Go bother someone else, I was doing something!”

You heard someone mumble, “More like doing someone,” that was immediately covered up with a cough.

“I heard that, Boo Seungkwan.” 

Jeonghan uncrossed his arms and took a step back. “We all came to check up on you but it seems like you got all the kisses you need to make your boo-boo feel better. I expect you to be on that court once halftime is over!”

You basked in the silence that followed soon after the 10 rowdy boys left. Guess the cat was out of the bag then.

“... Can I seriously play after halftime?”

“Are you fucking kidding me right now, Choi Seungcheol?!”

“Sorry, sorry! It was a joke!” A moment of silence before, “Can I kiss you again?” 

reblogs and feedback is always appreciated ^-^

[lostyesterday]

I’ve been thinking about disabled protagonists in Star Trek recently, which got me thinking about Seven of Nine. It’s interesting because I’m almost certain the writers of Voyager did not intend to write a disabled character, but they ended up accidentally writing one anyway, and one whose arc I find surprisingly compelling as a disabled person myself. Seven is dependent on electronic devices both inside her body and external to it in order to survive and she requires regular medical treatment and specialized adaptations to her environment in order to function. She is absolutely canonically disabled (as are all the other ex-Borg in Star Trek), even if the writers probably weren’t aware of that. The major reason that I think Seven’s arc resonates with me so much is because it reflects a deep tension between independence and dependence that is a fundamental and complex part of so many disabled people’s lives.

To be disabled is to be deeply aware at all times of your own dependence on external things (such as wheelchairs, canes, medications, etc.) and other people. At the same time, to be disabled is to also be deeply aware of the societal standards of independence and self-sufficiency you are constantly failing to live up to. You cannot do things that people are “supposed” to be able to do independently. You need help for basic tasks, and you have no choice but to trust that these external supports you are dependent on will not suddenly disappear, causing you to be unable to participate in society at all. It’s difficult to express to someone who hasn’t experienced it how much being disabled forces someone to consider their own level of dependence and independence constantly, how it becomes a deep part of one’s identity and can often be a source of trauma.

Seven’s arc on Voyager is often focused on the nature of individuality, but it is interesting how often “individuality” becomes a stand-in for independence. Seven’s disability makes her deeply dependent on the crew and resources of Voyager for survival. She could theoretically leave and use her own skills to do maintenance on her implants and install an alcove somewhere to keep herself functioning, but it would be a great risk, and her safety would be constantly in doubt. At the same time, Seven hates this dependence. She tries to rely on other people as little as possible, hating her need for the Doctor to diagnose issues with her implants and refusing to ask for help until she has no other choice. She hates this dependence because she sees it as challenging her ability to become a complete “individual” who is able to make her own autonomous choices. She hates this dependence because it forces her to rely on other people who could at any time abandon her or abuse their power over her.

So it’s far less frightening to pretend this dependence doesn’t exist, to hide it even from herself. Seven’s arrogance in her own abilities, her focus on her intellect and vast knowledge and superior physical abilities are in many ways genuine, especially early on. But at what point does this confidence in her own abilities – this reassurance that she is smart enough and strong enough to control her own destiny and be a true individual – become a coping mechanism to deal with the reality of her dependence on objects and people outside of her direct control?

Seven is told often by members of the Voyager crew that being an individual who makes her own choices and decisions is what she should strive for. And at the same time, those same people often exert control over her, attempting to restrict her autonomy. Janeway or the Doctor tell her that they know better than her what her needs are – that being an individual only goes so far. Seven’s anger at this contradiction is one of my favorite parts of her character, partially because it captures a similar feeling of anger deep inside me when I think about the ways society constantly pressures disabled people to maintain standards of independence impossible to live up to while at the same time deeply restricting our autonomy and freedom.

In the episode “Imperfection”, Seven says that what she wants most is to be useful. To be useful is to be a valuable part of society – someone who is self-sufficient and talented and certainly not deeply dependent on other people for basic survival. To be disabled is to have society constantly demand that you be useful, that you be independent and strong and never let your disabilities limit you. And at the same time, to be disabled is to discover over and over that you can never be that fully autonomous, fully functional human being seen as ideal in society. No matter what you do – no matter how far you run from the truth – it’s an impossible reality to escape.

[felixcloud6288]

It's Hurricane Season so I'd like to share some advice as a life-long Floridian who's experienced a few things. This is going to be directed primarily to people living in areas at risk of blackouts which could last several days.

Preparations

Aside from food, water, and gas, some things you'll want to make sure you have are flashlights and batteries. Make sure to refill any medications you might need.

From @dea-certe: Fill up all vehicles and maybe a few gas containers now. Firstly because it will be more expensive in the storm aftermath, but also because it will be harder to find. I went to five different gas stations to find fuel at one point and was kicking myself because I had used so much has keeping the phones charged and keeping the heat going.

Get raincoats in case you need to go outside cause the wind will destroy any umbrellas.. If you can't get one, take a garbage bag and tear a face hole into it and use that.

Also, get bug repellent, especially mosquito repellent. Mosquitos breed around still water and there will be a lot of still water.

And if you have an infant, make sure to stock up on diapers, baby wipes, etc. Even if you don't have an infant, baby wipes can be useful to help keep yourself clean.

You might want to buy some gardening gloves as well to make the post-storm cleanup safer.

SUPER IMPORTANT FOR SANITY AND SANITATION: get caught up on laundry and dishes. No power means no running water. Don't make things worse by not having clean dishes or clean clothes to use. While you're cleaning, change your bed sheets as well. Once you have power, change your sheets again.

Also, download any games, ebooks, shows, etc you can onto any battery-charged electronic devices you have. It will help your sanity when all you can do is wait.

From @metadata-uber-alles: My recommendation re: radio is to make sure you have an actual AM/FM radio, one that can run on batteries. You can probably thrift it if you don't have one already. Most radio stations stream online too, but if the power goes out you'll be rationing your phone battery and may not have internet.

Finally, while you should ideally board up your windows to protect them from debris, make sure at the minimum that all your windows are closed. Wind pressures are going to suck air out of any openings in your home.

Food and Water

First and most important: DO NOT BE A HOARDER!!

Even if your home has no power, that doesn't mean your local grocery store has no power. You can expect some reduced supply due to damaged supply lines and a spike in demand, but you shouldn't be worrying about empty shelves. At worst, have the amount of supplies you might need for 10 days. If you normally go to the grocery store every 2 weeks or longer, just stock up the amount you normally would.

Buy more items that are less likely to spoil and don't need refrigeration. When you have no power, prioritize eating anything which requires refrigeration (milk, cheese, meats) or has a short shelf life (bread).

Demand will be higher in preparation, and supply will be diminished for a bit, but supply issues only become unbearable when people start hoarding.

As for water, you'll need a surplus since you need water for so much. I cannot stress this particular part enough:

You need water to flush your toilet.

If there's somewhere with running water you can go when you need to poop, use that whenever possible, but you need water available at home to refill your toilet's cistern if you don't have that option (either time, distance, etc).

Make sure you have a supply of drinking water. Don't go buying every water bottle you can find (See the bit about hoarding), but you should buy more than you might normally use. Instead, gather water through things like your sink or from a hose into any sealable containers you might have . If you have a bathtub, fill it up just before the hurricane. If you have a pool, that's another source of water. If no debris got in the pool, you can use it for bathing. If you have empty buckets, you can get some additional water during the hurricane by filling them with large rocks or bricks and leaving them out in the open to collect the rain water.

Different water sources will be used for different purposes:

bottled, canned, or other store-bought water: Drinking, cooking, and refrigeration (explained later)

Water in unsealed containers: refill the toilet cistern

Water in a sealed containers: bathing and cleaning (Can also be used for the toilet)

As mentioned with food, supplies at your grocer will be reduced but not necessarily empty. You should be able to buy enough additional drinking water and be able to also use it for cleaning, giving you more water for the toilet. The tip about gathering rain water will only work once. There will likely be no rain for at least a week afterward.

In case you need to evacuate

Keep tabs on whatever emergency alerts are available. Check what your local radio channel is or what sites to check online. Make sure you know how to get to your local shelter, including alternate paths in case a road is inaccessible.

Load your vehicle with anything you might need to bring with you before the storm so you don't have to spend time looking for them and double checking when every minute could count. Pack some pillows, blankets, and extra clothes just in case. Also include anything you cannot risk losing for school or work like laptops.

Refrigeration

Without power, your fridge is now just a giant cooler and a ticking bomb to being a biohazard. Fill it up as much as possible. Cold air escapes easily when you open it and heat disperses fastest throw the air. Remember how I said you should buy extra water? A fridge filled with cold water will stay cooler longer. Any liquid will do. Fill your fridge with water bottles, soda cans, beer, fruit juice, whatever. As long as it doesn't spoil at room temperature. Milk can technically help too, but since it spoils you shouldn't keep much of it and should use it quickly.

Additional things like fruits and veggies will also help. What matters is you want to reduce the amount of empty space and fill it with anything which can keep the temperature down. Put a frozen block of iron in for all I care. Just don't have a super empty fridge.

If you have a generator

Good for you. You're not completely without power now. But you need to set priorities on what to use it for. Generators can only supply so much power at a time so you can't just hook everything to it and expect things to work out.

Top priority is the fridge. Twice a day, morning and evening, plug the fridge to the generator and let it run for two hours to cool things down. Don't hook up the fridge when you don't expect to open it (like when everyone is asleep).

Second priority should be charging cell phones, laptops, and anything else like that. Depending on your circumstances, you can charge them at work, from your car, etc so only hook them up when batteries are low.

Third, comfort. I understand this will be stressful, but hooking up your tv and gaming computer isn't the best idea. If you've done what I suggested earlier, you'll at least have something to watch or do without needing to hook it to your generator. Like with the above electronics, you might be able to find other ways to charge them, but only attach them to your generator when you don't need to worry about necessities.

Finally for the love of god, DO NOT HOOK AN AC TO THE GENERATOR!!. Air conditioners draw a lot of power, especially once the room is hot. But your generator can only do so much. The AC will kill your power supply really quickly. Use a fan or the AC in your vehicle if you need to cool down.

Also worth noting, if you have an electric vehicle, that could potentially be used as well. I don't know specifics, but look into that if you own one.

Final notes

This is not comprehensive and I may be wrong about some things.

Please refer to actual expert sources for comprehensive help.

This is just suggestions from someone who has to deal with this every year and has figured out how to deal with the aftermath. Your living conditions may be different so please check how to handle any concerns unique to you.

Stay safe and do not give up hope.

[thepartyresponsible]

prompt fill! someone asked for jason todd and truth serum. this was also supposed to fill the request for "who did this to you?" with phil/jason, but i didn't make it to "who did this to you?" part. sorry! i'm trying to keep these under 1k.

anyway, this one's a bit bleak, but educational. here, jason learns an important life lesson: if you go undercover as a criminal, sometimes people believe you. and phil learns to reorder his interrogation questions.

warnings for drugging people without their consent. the drug in question is a fictional truth serum.

- - -

Using this particular drug on a nonconsenting person is a crime in most of the world. A recent amendment to the Geneva Convention marked its use on prisoners of war as a war crime. There’s a blanket ban on its production and use in the European Union. In the United States, administration by law enforcement personnel was ruled a violation of the Fifth and Eighth Amendments.

But SHIELD is not at war. Nor is it a law enforcement agency. And Phil Coulson is not in territory controlled by the United States or the European Union. The man in SHIELD custody undoubtedly has rights of some kind, but the extent of those rights – and who might be obligated to protect them – is currently unknown.

“It’s messy,” he says, to Fury.

“It’s a mess,” Fury replies. “Clean it up.”

- - -

He’s younger than Phil expected. But he has no right to judge anyone for sending their young to die. After all, he looks older than Natasha, possibly older than Clint.

And Natasha and Clint might be dead. In some ways, SHIELD’s no better.

“Your name, please,” Phil says.

“Jason,” the man says, a slow, sleepy mumble, and then his eyes open, and the panic hits.

Phil’s grown familiar with panic. He’s seen it in civilians and soldiers, in diplomats and dictators. He’s seen it every time he’s encountered this drug.

When it was first developed, early adopters trotted out the old lie: if you have nothing to hide, you have nothing to fear. But everyone has something to hide. Everyone has a secret they would swallow their own tongue to protect, and here’s a substance that takes that choice away, a wonder drug that retains awareness while negating will. A life-saving torture device.

“Fuck you,” the man says, which is far more spirit than most manage.

“Jason,” Phil says, “my agents are missing.”

“Fuck you,” Jason says, again. “That’s what happens.” He’s double-blinking, struggling to focus. Phil’s done this six times. No one's ever managed this level of control. Usually, they’re drooling by now, spilling secrets and saliva into the collar of their shirts.

Something’s wrong.

“You’ll have to excuse me,” Phil says. “We must have miscalculated your dosage.”

- - -

Medical reports back half an hour later. There was no miscalculation. The man has a tolerance they assure him should not be possible.

“We gave him a second dose. He should be amenable now,” the doctor says. “If he doesn’t stop breathing.”

Amenable, Phil thinks. He explores the hollow inside him where the horror should’ve been. It’s a terrible thing they’re doing. He knows that.

But his agents are missing.

“Thank you,” he says. And he goes back to work.

- - -

“You know,” Jason tells him, glassy-eyed, barely looking Phil’s direction, “if you ask the wrong questions, I have to kill you."

It’s an interesting threat from a man who cannot lie.

“And what are you afraid you’ll tell me?” Phil asks.

“Identities,” he answers, chest rising slower than a sleeper’s.

“Ah,” Phil says. “Yes, we’ll get to that.”

“Batman,” he adds, unexpectedly. “Nightwing.” He swallows, clumsily. When he breathes in, he chokes. Phil watches him almost drown for a moment and then he reaches across the table and tugs Jason’s head forward so he can breathe.

He barely has the coordination to breathe, but the contact makes him flinch hard enough to shake the table. Phil wonders who made a creature like him.

“Who do you work for?” he asks.

“Nobody.” And then, almost smiling, voice dropping into a guttural growl, “Justice.”

Which could be good news. Killers with a mission are predictable, once you understand their cause. “And who decides justice? Who gives you orders?”

“Nobody.”

Interesting. Most freelancers don’t work at this level, and the ones who do should have extensive SHIELD files. “Who’s been signing your checks lately?”

“Checks,” Jason says, and laughs. “Fucking checks.”

He’s been thoroughly dosed with a drug designed to make him highly suggestible and meekly compliant. Phil’s starting to understand why capturing him was such a costly undertaking.

“Whose money is in your accounts right now?”

Jason makes a noise, some gusty grumble of complaint, and then lists off a dozen or so of the very worst people alive. The most interesting names are the ones Phil doesn’t recognize, but he’ll have to get to those later. The window is short; his time is running out.

A single dose is risky. Some people never fully recover their independence. They’re rendered permanently docile, suffering from a kind of chemical lobotomy that good people across the globe have outlawed. A second dose doubles the odds of permanent damage. After the third, some people won't even breathe without orders.

They’ve given him two already.

“These people who’ve been paying you,” Phil says, “which of them is paying you right now?”

Jason sighs. “Nobody pays me. I stole that money.”

“You---” Phil pauses, looks at his notes. He re-reads the names, marvels at the insanity of stealing from any of them. “You stole from those people?”

“Stole from ‘em,” he says, “killed ‘em. Well, killed some. Gonna kill the others. It’s, you know. A to-do list. I’ve been busy.”

Phil wonders if he’s been wasting his time, if he’s drugged a delusional man. “You don’t steal from people like that before you kill them.”

Jason tilts his head so he can look up him, furrows his brow in something that is almost a coherent expression of disdain. “You never have any fun, huh?”

Phil might be dealing with someone far more dangerous than he’d predicted. “You do this for fun?”

“Yeah,” Jason says. “And for justice.”

Justice, right. Of course. “And who taught you about justice?”

“My dad,” Jason says.

Which is good. Which might be helpful. Truth has its uses, but, in Phil’s experience, leverage gets more accomplished.

“And who,” Phil says, “is your father?”

Jason’s eyes track his direction but don’t quite land. His mouth closes and then opens again. “Batman,” he says.

“Oh,” Phil says. “Shit.”