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stxrvel · 10 months ago

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i don't wanna live forever (1)

summary: reader couldn't stop having deaths in her life ever since the Supersoldier serum came into her life. no matter how hard she tried to stay sane, it seemed that life didn't want to give her a break. until, one afternoon, she learned that one of her old friends was alive… (you guys know im bad at summaries, but please give this one a chance)

pairing: bucky barnes x f!reader

words: +4.5k

warnings: angst, major character deaths, canon deaths¿?, bad words, english is not my first language! thoughts of revenge and death, this is like an introductory chapter, so the buckyxreader interaction is low, but it'll get better, i promise!

note: holy fuck guys. i just spent like five hours writing and editing this and i fucking love it. its been a while since ive been this proud of a work, im actually scare the emotion will disappear, but i really want to rejoice in this one. i wanted to write something a little different from my usuals, maybe a little common in the fanfiction world, but i started and i simply could not stop (or maybe just approach this bucky fic from another perspective). so this is the first part and i'll try with all my heart to keep this going because it was fucking insane, at least for me. i really hope you all like this as much as i do! feel free to leave any comment! thanks always for all the support!! see you next time <3

part 2 ; part 3 ; part 4

When you went into the Supersoldier serum project with Steve, you thought you were going to change the world. Of course, at that time when technology was relatively new any invention felt like the beginning of a new era. That's how it was all sold to you and it was how you expected everything to turn out… Until you realized that it was all really a waste of effort and time.

They were just propaganda for war. Not to stop it, to promote it. To motivate it.

You tried, on several occasions, not to think too much about it. You tried to stay out of it as Steve sometimes asked you to, even though even he didn't want to, as Bucky asked you to when you lay on his shoulder to cry in the little time you had free between trips. It was a great burden of guilt and helplessness.

Until you and Steve, with the almost imposed help of Peggy and Howard, rescued Bucky from the evil hands of Johann Schmidt and his nefarious organization, HYDRA, that, unbeknownst to you, would haunt you for a long time to come. It was only after that, after spending several sleepless days on edge thinking about what might be happening to Bucky, that you and Steve were finally able to go out and contribute something. Destroy HYDRA and the Red Skull's plans.

Of course, you realized that not everything could go right when, the one mission you couldn't attend, Bucky didn't return. And then Steve didn't come back either.

“Do you think this will ever end?” you had asked Bucky the day before his last mission.

“Of course it will,” he had answered without hesitation, moonlight illuminating his clear eyes, squeezing your hand as if it was all he wanted to do for the rest of his life. “And after that we can begin to live as it should be.”

But there was no after that, because you never recovered from losing him. From losing them both.

“Are you okay?” Peggy approached, in the middle of the afternoon when the sun was streaming through the stained glass windows of the church, illuminating the spot where Steve's empty coffin had been, because they didn't even find his body. They didn't even think there was any of it left.

You barely moved your head to acknowledge her presence, moving the prayer slip they had recited throughout the mass between your hands. Your eyes were crystallized, in tears that no longer even made the effort to flow, because you had already spent too many days and nights crying. Peggy had been on the other side of the church, sitting next to Howard while the priest spoke, because you had refused to be near them in those moments. You didn't want to be near them.

“As well as one can be,” you slurred, finding that it had been a long time since you'd last used your voice for anything other than cursing and crying disconsolately.

The people had already left, probably an hour or more ago. The empty coffin had already been brought out, all the flower arrangements had been picked up, and the priest was preparing for the evening mass. You knew you had to leave, you knew Peggy and Howard were there waiting for you, but you felt stuck at that moment. You didn't want to leave, you didn't want to get ahead, you didn't want that life if it had to be this cruel.

You heard Peggy's sigh, before she took a seat next to you, a short distance away, averting her gaze to look at Christ on the cross.

You didn't know if you were selfish to be so closed off to your friends at this moments, because they must be grieving as much as you were, but you didn't know how to deal with the future possibilities. Bucky and Steve, great men and soldiers, one even with enhanced abilities, had not been able to make it through the punishment of war. What if Peggy and Howard were the same? What if they too had the cruel fate of dying at the hands of injustice? Could you deal with that? With everyone gone?

Maybe you could open up to them a little more because if not, who else? Turning away from them was not going to ensure their survival in this hate-filled society. Maybe you could protect them, like you couldn't protect Steve and Bucky. Maybe you could make a difference, because you had the chance to.

“You know,” Peggy spoke again, rearranging herself on the bench and crossing her legs, “Steve always knew this was how it would end.”

Her wistful, mournful, fragile voice sent a shiver through your body. Peggy didn't consider herself someone to show herself vulnerable in front of others no matter how close they were, even in those things that hurt her the most, in those things that affected her personally and made her eyes water instantly, she always tended to shut down. And at that moment you didn't dare interrupt her because you knew it would probably be the only time she would talk about Steve in a long time.

“Sometimes we'd talk, between tour trips, and he would tell me that wasn't what he wanted to do, even when he had to convince you otherwise,” her clasped hands would occasionally squeeze between words, blinking rapidly to fight back the tears. “He didn't know if he'd made the right decision.”

You could almost picture him, backstage at the foot of the stairs with that notebook he carried everywhere and wouldn't let go, Peggy at his side nostalgic, as helpless as the others. It reminded you of the times you'd had similar conversations with Bucky, desperate to find a purpose, a way through so much fog.

“The first time I saw him so sure of himself was when he asked us to help them look for Bucky,” she mumbled his name, as if trying not to scare you away by saying it too loudly. “Ever since then it seemed like he'd found that spark…”

“Until Bucky died,” you whispered, the words cutting through the cold and silence, Peggy shifting on the bench contritely.

“He lost something of himself from that day on, it wasn't hard to tell. The next time I heard him so sure after spending days lost, it was on that call from the plane.”

Peggy paused, raising her hand to cover her mouth as her voice faltered. You turned to look at her, wishing you could rip the pain from her soul and leave it in yours. She was trying to contain her emotions, breathing deeply, and in that moment you wondered what life might be like from now on, with the specter of grief following you around, waiting for the next time the dead knocked on your doors, unexpectedly, without allowing you to say goodbye.

“He had told me he wouldn't die in peace until he could get it all over with. And he took it all with him. And I hated him so much for it…” Peggy sobbed, her labored breathing standing out between words. She kept looking straight ahead at the stained glass windows, the expression on her face hard and scowling despite having tears rolling down her cheeks, as if she were trying to blame something for what had happened. Her reproachful eyes fixed on the Christ.

Her wails echoed through the walls of the church, the father on the dais sending them a look of sorrow. He had offered you water, thirty minutes after everyone at Steve's wake had left, when they kept walking, and you stood there.

Another empty casket.

“Ladies,” Howard's voice reached your ears amidst all the physical and emotional numbness. You could barely notice Peggy wiping under her eyes with the pocket square that was surely part of Howard's suit, as she took breaths to get up. “We should go now.”

You heard him walk, his slow, careful steps stopping just behind you. There, on his feet with his chest tight, he rested a hand on your shoulder and gave it a squeeze in support. He knew it was the most you would allow him at a time like this, deciding not to pass up the opportunity to let you know he was there. You sighed, feeling a heaviness take over your body as you stood up.

“Yeah, let's go.”

The next few months passed in a blur. Maybe too fast, maybe too slow, you weren't sure anymore.

Peggy continued to work at the Strategic Science Reserve for a couple of years, calling you from time to time to help her with some jobs. You kept a low profile, practically a fugitive from the state, while trying to live a halfway normal life in Europe. A lot of it thanks to Howard really.

Life had become a rather monotonous routine when you stopped getting so many calls from Peggy and Howard several years later. You knew they were fine, but not being able to return to the country filled you with anguish every day. And trying to lead a normal life became too complicated when you looked in the mirror and it seemed like not a single day had passed since you were in that capsule of Dr. Erskine's with Steve.

Until Peggy called one day asking you to come back. She told you that it was safe, that there would be no state officials waiting for you at the airport, but even if that had been the situation, you wouldn't have hesitated for a second to buy the first plane ticket and fly to see them again. To Howard and Peggy, to melt into an embrace, longing for the lost years.

You had thought that contributing to the fight in World War II had earned you a ticket to at least be recognized in the military, but all you gained was the government with their mad scientists looking for you to try to recreate the Supersoldier serum. Peggy didn't want to risk you and Howard gave you no choice by giving you a plane ticket to Finland with your bags packed.

You wasted many years not being by their side, unable to keep the promise you had made them in your head to be close by to protect them, to watch over their safety.

But when you left the airport there was only Peggy, and maybe that should've told you everything.

Her hair already looked gray, the effects of gravity and time present on her face. You hated to think that you shouldn't have looked any different from the way she saw you last time when she waved you off at that same airport. Her warm gaze was the same, raising her arms with held back tears to encircle you in a big hug. She tried hard not to sob against your shoulder, you felt the choppy movement of her breath against your chest.

She looked so different and the same at the same time.

You walked to her car a moment later, her trying to carry your suitcase and you telling her you were perfectly fine carrying it on your own. Amidst a smile, she walked into the driver's door and you frowned as you saw the empty passenger seat.

“Where's Howard?” you spoke as you sat down, after stowing the huge suitcase in the trunk of the car. The way you moved to buckle up, you didn't notice the way Peggy froze in place, her hands clenching the steering wheel so tightly that her breath hitched from the effort.

“We're going to see him,” was all she said, but she was very good at hiding that something was wrong. Only for a little while.

During the trip, even though you tried to ask things about them, about what they had been doing during this time, you didn't miss the way her shoulders were tense or her eyes very alert. Something bad had happened and Peggy was trying to hide it from you.

When she pulled up in front of a church, you already knew what had happened without her answering a single one of your questions.

Howard had died.

You two had sat next to Howard's son Tony, his spitting image, in complete silence as the prayers went on. At that moment you didn't know what had happened, hoping it had been a quiet and peaceful death, because you didn't know if you would be able to endure another violent death.

Peggy gave you all the details when the mass was over, after the coffin was taken away, and you hadn't felt such fury in so many years. Not since the deaths of Bucky and Steve had that adrenaline rush of anger returned to run through your body as violently as it did at that moment, when Peggy told you that he had been murdered along with his wife. All to steal some prototypes of Dr. Erskine's serum. The damned serums with which everything had started.

This time there was a body in the coffin, but there was also a culprit. Someone to point the finger at and take it out on for years of anguish and pain.

You were at Peggy's house, staying for a few days, when she told you that wasn't all.

Peggy had a suspicion that HYDRA hadn't disappeared when Steve crashed that plane into the ice. Her suspicions generated panic in you, because Bucky and Steve had died for that, now apparently Howard, only for it all to have been for nothing. The feeling of carnage that ran through your whole head made you nauseous, years of helplessness and pain pent up in such a small body had to find its way out somehow.

“It was a man, according to the information I've been able to gather,” Peggy spoke, taking a seat across from you in the dining room of her living room, after pouring you a glass of lemonade. “He didn't die from the crash. He had a concussion. He was hit in the head. His wife died from asphyxiation.”

“Does Tony know?”

“No,” Peggy shook her head quickly, one hand over her heart as if the mere thought caused her physical pain. “It didn't even occur to me to tell him something like that.”

“And he was looking for the serum,” you recalled, a bitter feeling planted in the back of your throat, the memories of the disastrous times during the war coming back into your head like a blinding flash.

“He took them. We don't know who he is or who he works for, but whoever they are, they must have been following us for a long time to know about them.”

“You mean years,” you arched an eyebrow, your fingers touching the cool exterior of the glass seeking some reassurance.

“Possibly. That project isn't recent,” Peggy nodded, drinking her lemonade with a grimace. You stared at the liquid almost finished from her glass, a wrinkle forming between your brows with each passing second and you kept wondering why.

“But what the fuck was going through that asshole's head?” you spat angrily. Rage at already the amount of lives that serum had taken with it and at Howard's recklessness. Rage at the reaper who seemed to be following in their footsteps for some reason, rage at that damn man and whoever his damn boss was.

“It was the only option, Y/N,” Peggy turned her gaze, meeting your eyes with a strange glint.

“What do you mean?” you were almost afraid to ask, your friend's gaze suddenly turning evasive. You watched her run her fingernails over the glass of the tumbler, lost for a moment in thought. The way her shoulders slumped forward in defeat caused a pressure in your chest that made it hard to breathe. Peggy shouldn't be going through these things at this point in life.

“Howard was working with the Pentagon, as a contractor or something. They had found you. Howard felt cornered and they made him sign an agreement.”

With your incredulous look on her face, Peggy didn't dare look back at you for a few seconds. So much had happened since you had left and it seemed that you had only been told about the things you weren't going to care about so much. But if you had known that you wouldn't have cared much about giving some of the state officials their comeuppance. You would've liked Howard to trust you enough to tell you, not live in as much fear behind his back as the last few years must've been. You didn't like the way Peggy's lips curved downward, as if she, too, would've preferred to make another decision had she known this was how it was going to end.

“Howard assured them that he could recreate the serum, and told them he would as long as they left you alone.”

“Fucking asshole…” you closed your eyes, scrubbing your face with your hands. The rough skin of your hands rubbed against the delicate skin of your face, years of combat and mistreatment foreseeing a harshness that reminded you every day of what you'd had to go through to get to that moment.

“I only found out about it after it happened. I didn't see it for like a whole week,” Peggy shook her head slightly, her eyes glistening in the pain of the memories. You shook your head hard, a more violent reaction than you could have anticipated.

“That stupid… stupid asshole! What the fuck made him think I couldn't defend myself?”

“He was trying to do the right thing,” Peggy finally searched your eyes, meeting the red rims that told her you were holding back too hard breaking in front of her, only using that pain mixed with rage to keep you sane.

“And look how that turned out!”

Peggy stretched her hand across the table, with a pleading look asking you to lower your voice, averting her gaze to the hallway. You followed her gaze, for a second forgetting where you were, forgetting that her family was with you behind the doors where you were plunged into darkness. It was past midnight.

You took a second to calm yourself, trying to drown out the uncontrolled emotions and taking deep breaths to calm your fluttering heart.

“And if what you theorize is true…” you regretted the moment those words left your mouth; you didn't even want to finish the sentence.

“Do you think it is?”

“I don't want to,” you shook your head instantly, closing your eyes, the thought sounding illogical inside your head. Your hands on your chest trying to contain the storm of feelings that was making chaos inside your head. “That would mean that everything we did, everything Bucky, Steve and Howard did and sacrificed, was in vain. It will all have been in vain.”

You spent several weeks with that thought in your head, working hand in hand with Peggy, and the organization you barely knew as SHIELD, to track down the whereabouts of the killer of Tony's parents and the one responsible because the Supersoldier's serums were, surely, in the wrong hands.

And yes, it was many years of fruitless missions and dead ends, with you running every field mission and Peggy calling the shots from the New York facility. Every time you felt close to discovering something, it seemed that the enemy rejoiced in your failures and still couldn't understand how they were always three steps ahead.

However, you had to leave the missions when Peggy became ill.

The silent, lethal Alzheimer's.

During the first months in the hospital, she still recognized you. She also recognized her husband and children. But after the first year, she frowned every time her children walked through the door. After a year and a half, her husband had to remind her that they had been married for about forty years.

After two years, she was still only remembering you, Howard, Steve and Bucky. Her whole life during her time in the army was all you talked about, sometimes you would tell her how much more time had passed than she remembered and always, without fail, she would ask you how much you had done in Europe for so long by yourself.

She cried every time she remembered Howard's death. She cried every time she remembered her children. Out of her mouth came a thousand apologies that no one would accept, because there was nothing anyone could do to prevent what had to happen. You wished she had been a serum test subject instead of you.

For several years, missions to find Tony's parents killer were sporadic because you spent more time around Peggy than at the SHIELD facility. She was the only thing you had left of everything you'd ever had, of when you held the world in your hands. She was the last thing keeping you tethered to that reality, keeping madness from flooding your reason. How could you have so many years ahead of you when that was all you had to live for? A life full of the dead, full of pain and suffering. What kind of karma were you paying for?

You were leaving the SHIELD facility, after another failed mission, when Nick Fury stopped you in front of the exit. You almost rolled your eyes right under his watchful gaze, tired of having to meet him anywhere, and exhausted from his comments about this vengeance project or whatever he wanted you to be a part of.

You still didn't know how, being such an exemplary agent, Coulson had fallen into his nets.

“Miss L/N,” the man stopped you with his words, his hands behind his back and a tense stance that caught your attention.

“Fury,” you nodded in his direction, hoping he'd be quick because you were running late for your weekly visit with Peggy. “Do you need anything?”

“I'd like you to come with me somewhere,” Fury approached tentatively, his one eye fixed on your wary expression, which shifted to boredom the moment you thought you knew what he wanted.

“If this is about that project, I've told you a thousand times-”

“No,” he interrupted you, moving forward and removing his hands from behind his back. “It's not related to that. I really want you to come with me.”

“You look agitated, but I need-”

“I'll take you to see Peggy myself after this.”

You didn't like that he knew your routine, even though you weren't doing enough to hide it from the other agents. But Fury looked nervous, even though he was hiding it very well, trying to keep his cool as he looked for ways to convince you.

You figured it wouldn't be a big deal for you to go off the deep end for once. After all, Peggy never remembered you were going to see her.

You set off in Fury's armored vans, not quite sure where you were going, but sure that it was urgent, because he had taken it upon himself to let his driver know that you had to get there as soon as possible.

You took that time on the trip to come up with a new strategy for the next mission because what you were doing up to that point wasn't working and you felt too close to throwing in the towel, figuratively speaking. You could spend years following a ghost, but you wouldn't give up on finding Howard and Maria's killer.

Before the car pulled up to one of SHIELD's secret sections, they passed the giant, imposing Stark Tower. You never saw Tony again after that time at his parents' funeral, not even during his visits to Peggy because you always made it a point not to cross him. You didn't think you'd be able to look him in the eye while you knew his parents had been killed without being able to tell him. You had promised Peggy in her lucid moments that you wouldn't tell him anything until you could find the culprit. You didn't want to initiate that pain if it had to be kept repressed, as yours once was, and probably still is. You had learned, some time after the funeral, that he was living with Edwin Jarvis, and you were glad to know that he would have good companionship to keep him company in such hard times.

Fury, a handful of agents and you entered the vans through the entrance to what appeared to be the parking lot of an old warehouse. Upon entering, the first thing you noticed was the number of armed agents that seemed to be guarding the place, not at all discreet to how SHIELD used to do things. You weren't sure if Peggy would authorize something like that, but you couldn't question the Director's decisions. It wasn't your place.

“What's going on here?” you frowned, watching as every meter there was another agent and another agent. You got out of the car without waiting for an answer from Fury, moving directly toward the entrance where most of the agents were concentrated. You barely noticed their looks in contradiction, running their eyes over you and then over the man trying to catch up to you, dubious as to whether or not they should move. “Move.”

“Wait,” Fury's voice stopped the command in the agents, who turned back to look at you as you sent Fury a confused look.

“What's all this mystery, Nicholas?” the man startled almost discreetly at your tone of voice, the agents stirring uncomfortably, but kept the serene expression that was getting on your nerves. “What the fuck did you do?”

“We got a call from the Arctic.”

“From the Arctic?”

You tried to ignore the way the hairs on your neck instantly stood up, your body alerting you to something your mind still couldn't comprehend. You felt like a deer face to face with a predator, expecting the worst.

“The Colonel informed us of something that might interest us,” Fury's cryptic voice echoed in your ears, drowning out the flicker of uncertainty vibrating from your head to your toes. “They found a plane.”

You didn't even answer him. Your heart began to pound wildly, cornered, ready to have your head bitten off. The tension in your shoulders intensified, with the involuntary movement of your hands as you broke into a cold sweat. The mere implication of his words caused an emptiness in your stomach, a sense of longing and fear you hadn't felt before.

You looked at Fury, trying to find in his gaze the gleam of a lie, but there was nothing there but assurance. There was nothing but recognition and understanding in his gaze, but that didn't make the emptiness in your stomach and the tight chest go away. It didn't make the feeling of being outside your body go away.

You barely remembered to move in the direction of the door, the agents instantly moving out of your way, pushing it so hard that one of them flew out. You moved your eyes around every corner of the room, the cream-colored walls generating a great repulsion in you. And there, in the midst of all the confusion and the storm, a confused and disgruntled face looked back at you. A face you never thought you would see again.

Steve Rogers was standing a few feet away from you, barely comprehending what was happening around him and instantly recognizing you. Your chest compressed once again, the tears you held back for so many years even in your loneliness making their own way into your eyes, endangering to end that mask you wore everywhere you went.

Steve was actually there, looking back at you with his eyes shining in recognition. You didn't know if he was as surprised as you were to react or you looked so bad that he didn't know if he should approach you or not. You just knew it was him, it really was him right there in front of you. He wasn't dead. Steve wasn't dead. He was alive. Ah, he was so alive.

The broken sob that suddenly left you was loud enough to make your friend shed his stupefaction and stride over to where you were. You barely managed to cover your face, between sobs, wails and disbelief, feeling your knees give out, surrendering to the weight of the pain, when his strong arms grabbed your shoulders before you hit the floor. Preventing your fall, as you had wished so many times before.

You cried against his shoulder, when feeling him against your body you knew there was no doubt it was true. You moved your hands away from your face, wrapping them around his waist as tightly and lovingly as you hadn't hugged anyone in so long. Surely the last time you hugged someone like that was when you saw Peggy on your way back from Europe.

Steve wasn't far behind, his arms around your shoulders just as tightly, his chin against the crown of your head, moving from side to side trying to hold back the loud sobs that shook your body.

You couldn't believe it, but it was true, he was right in front of you.

Steve was alive. He had come back to your side. You didn't even want to ask why.

And there was nothing else you could think about for the rest of your life.

#stxrvel talks #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky fic #bucky x you #bucky fluff #bucky barnes angst #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky #james bucky buchanan barnes #winter soldier #the winter soldier #steve rogers

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freestyle-crocodile-trashpile · 10 months ago

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Rage

[A/n:Mortal kombat brutality style 😈😈😈. I got this idea after seeing the Orin thingy when she takes Gale.]

Summary:Orin was nothing compared to your fists

Type:Scenario:?: Gale X M!Tiefling!Reader

Version:Bg3

The anger filled you so quickly as you watched Orin twitch and snap back into her original form. Gale no longer infront if you.

"What did you do to Gale..." A shiver ran down your companions' spines at the tone of your voice.

Orin snickered, a dark look forming on her face. It only made you want to punch her face in.

"Nothing to bad...yet, once I get back I-" She didn't get to finish her sentence as your fist came in contact with her face.

A sickening crunch filled the room as your fist came in contact with her nose, completely shattering it. She didn't have time to react as you punch her again, and again, and again. You didn't stop or slow down, your tail stiff and twitching behind you as your clawed fingers stabbed into both of her eyes, crushing the soft organ instantly. She screamed, yanking your hand away from her face. Blood streamed down her face, covering her skin and the ground below. You didn't waste anytime, headbutting her while she had a grip on your wrist, your horns scrapped against her skin, tearing at her flesh. Another punch to her face and she stumbled against the wall. Another scream left her mouth. Holding her face as she stumbled away from you, tripping over chairs and bumping into the desk. Pure rage was radiating off you, causing your companions to step back.

"God damn, Soldier!" Karlach laughed, finding this disturbing yet amusing.

You didn't even process her words, storming over to Orin. Your hand grabbed her hair, yanking her head back so far her veins started showing on her neck. If you tugged any harder her neck would've snapped, or tore her hair out.

"Where's Gale?!" Orin punched you weakly, attempting to get out of your grip blindly.

"To hells with you! I'll send you there myself!" Orin Wouldn't be better just telling you. She could feel your rage, even blind she felt superior in this moment.

Another scream left her mouth as you tore her hair from her scalp, a patch of her skin tearing with the blood. A deep growl left your throat as she tried to leave again. Rising your hand, claws out, you grabbed at her face, your claws digging into her skin as you tear the skin from her face. Another scream, louder, more pained.

"Tell me!" All you got was a cry and a tremble as she started chanting something.

You grabbed her jaw, crushing it in your hand. Her chanting was silenced quickly, another cry of pain as you punched her again. She fell to the ground, hastily looking for something to use against you, yet with her eyes crushed and oozing from her sockets, it was way more difficult than ever before. She grabbed a letter opener just as you yanked her back up. Swiftly, she stabbed you in the eye, well, tried to, she just barely missed, stabbing your cheekbone instead. A hiss left your throat, letting go of her temporarily. She shoved you to the ground and dashed away from you, raming into a chair then into a wall. She stumbled, turning around and moving her head as if it'd let her see again. You growled, running at her. Fortunately for her, she dodged.

"I'll kill you!" She ran at you, clawing at your face, which only made you grab her wrists and crush her wrist bones under your grip, twisting her hands the wrong way before twisting her around and slamming her against a desk.

"I won't ask again. Where. Is. Gale." Another cry and a hiss.

"Fuck you" Orin hissed out, her broken jaw making her words slurred and disoriented.

She managed to shove you off her, turning to you and summoning a summon to fight you. You charged at her, lowing your hand and aiming your claws straight at her stomach. Before she could react, your hand went through her stomach, tearing the Armour away with your other hand. A sound if gagging was heard from shadowheart and a wheeze from Orin. Your hand twisted in her, gripped her spine before tearing it from her stomach, snapping the bone as you pulled it out from her stomach. You stepped back, spine clenched in your hand, breathing heavily as Orin took a few steps before collapsed on the ground. Everyone was silent, horror on their faces. You reached down and grabbed Orin, tossing her over your shoulder, spine still in hand as you started walking.

When you found where Gale was being kept, all it took was dropping Orins body on the ground and a glare for them to release Gale. You took the body home with you, just in case. Yet your body was stained with her blood, you reeked of blood. It was so strong your companions couldn't be around you, even Astarion.

[A/n:Hehe...I might have gone to far with it, but you know what. Orin needs a good ass beating. I hope you enjoyed]

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ficisid · 2 years ago

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Organic waste streams for industrial renewable energy applications in India

The project aims to promote investment in bio-methanation technology through the demonstration of innovative technologies and business models and by transforming the market for using urban and industrial organic waste for MSME industrial energy applications in the country.

#Organic waste streams #Industrial Renewable Energy #Waste-to-Energy sector #GIS tool of organic waste #IOWtE biomethanation project

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whimsicalwritingsandmore · 1 year ago

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Want You Back | ateez x reader

Pairing: werewolf!ot8!ateez x werewolf!reader

Genre: fluff mostly, romance, poly, a little angst?

Warnings for this chapter: none

Word Count: 1621 words

a/n: thank you, thank you, thank you so much for all the love and support thus far!! 🥺 seeing all my notifs blew my mind and I'm in absolute awe!! it has really given me the motivation and I can't wait to share the next chapters with you! as always, feedback is really appreciated, and I hope you enjoy this chapter! <3 :)

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Chapter 2

Life changed for you, in the best way possible. Your memory from that night was blurred and indistinct but with the help of new friends, you recovered soon after.

At first, when you awoke, you were in what could only be described as the most cosy and homely bed you had ever slept in. It felt like a soft, fluffy cloud and you hadn't had a goodnight's rest like that in a long time. You even remembered the dream you had - it was the first time you and the boys moved in together and spent a week and a half organizing and making it feel like home. However, as you came to, your moment of bliss was cut short when you peeled your eyes open and became aware of the throbbing sensation in your head. It felt like you had run straight into a wall by accident because you weren’t seeing where you were going, and your forehead experienced most of the impact.

As you tried to zero-in on your surroundings, you suddenly felt a light touch to the top of your head, gently massaging it. In a moment like this, you would immediately jump into defence mode but in the matter of a second, your headache eased. You looked up to see who it was, ready to counterattack if necessary. However, you were met with a welcoming smile, bright as the sun from a blonde hair, dark brown eyes man.

Chan or Bangchan as he introduced himself, approached you carefully. He didn’t want to alarm you, only deciding to touch your head to ease the pain he knew you were feeling. He moved to sit on the chair a little far from you.

“How are you feeling?”

“Better, thank you. But…where am I?”

You were in the human realm. When Chan told you this, you almost fell out of your bed. Actually, you did because your response to this new piece of information was screaming what and then proceeding to lose balance and roll off. Chan tried to catch you but you already landed on the floor with a loud thud. While he helped you back into bed and check to see if you were okay, two boys barged in followed by two others.

In specific order according to Chan reprimanding them, Jisung and Changbin were the ones with the frying pans and Seungmin and Hyunjin were the ones who strolled in nonchalantly. Jisung attempted to explain that he thought Chan was in trouble and didn’t want to leave it to chance.

Over the next few weeks, you spent a lot of time at Chan’s place with his seven soulmates, all of whom became your closest friends. Chan specifically, became what you could only coin as a best friend, as he was the one you sought out for the most. He was warm and welcoming, and you felt comfortable around him. He teased you constantly, calling himself your knight in shining armour.

He explained he found you floating on a log barely conscious and wasted no time in bringing you back with him and seeking help for you. In addition, he revealed to you that he and his seven mates were wizards thus how he healed your headache instantly. Since he shared his origins, you thought it was only fair to disclose who you really were. Chan had no different response, his kind nature continuing to flow like a calm stream. He revealed he knew when he saw your tattoo on your arm, but it made no difference to him. Although Jisung was a little apprehensive, he also quickly warmed up to you when you baked a batch of cookies that he could only describe as heavenly and delectable. Minho joked that the best way to befriend Jisung is through his stomach. And it worked.

As you saw the way they cared for another and their domestic nature with light-hearted jokes, your heart broke in two because it reminded you of your soulmates. You wondered a lot about your eight boys.

Did they care where you were?

Were they looking for you?

Chan noticed the way you watched out the window in the late evening, lost in thought. Unbeknownst to you, Chan witnessed your sleepless nights. He sensed your discomfort and so, he would weave a shimmering of stars thereby, allowing you to calm down and dream pleasant dreams that were close to your heart - just like the one you had before you awoke. He couldn’t read your expression and he refused to use any magic to read your mind. Honestly, he didn't want to pry but at the same time, he wanted to help more than anything because he saw himself in you.

He chose to wait until you were ready to tell him. And finally you did.

“I have eight mates,” you began, “But I’m not sure if they love me anymore.”

The both of you sat at the quaint table setup in the balcony (courtesy Hyunjin) one afternoon as the sun set on the horizon and the sky became an orange and red hue with the breeze blowing briskly, and the indistinct yet busy chatter of the city below you. You held a warm cup of tea in hand and a soft and silky fleece covered you. You recounted your story and how lost you were feeling.

And then he told you his.

“At the age of 11, every wizard in training is expected to take a national test that would determine where they will go in terms of schooling. The Academy was considered "prestigious" for the wizards who learnt quickly while the College was for those who didn’t, to put it mildly. When I ended up at the Academy, my parents were thrilled. But the pressure from having to be perfect in everything felt like a weight bringing me down. What made it worse was the prejudice that went on inside the Academy. At first, I thought it was what I wanted because it was all I ever knew but then, when I befriended Jisung, who attended the College because he wasn’t the biggest fan of studying, I realized there was so much more to life than what I was being taught. He introduced me to Minho who actually went to the Academy, yet we never met because of the bubble I was living in. Ultimately, it didn’t sit well with my parents. They wanted me to do exactly what they had done and befriend those who were in the same circle. And then after a lot of arguing, I decided that wasn’t the life for me. I wanted to explore more of the world and find out what I liked. So, after I graduated, I moved here with everyone, and opened the bookstore and the apothecary shop. And it was the best decision I made.”

“You weren’t scared?”

“Oh I was, immensely. I can’t tell you the number of times I talked Minho’s ears off about all my doubts. I think he considered feeding me to his cats at one point…”

You laughed heartily at Chan’s retelling of events; it was the first time you had laughed so authentically.

It amazed you at Chan’s valiant and courageous spirit. Despite his fears, he still went ahead and did what he wanted to do.

He soothed the doubts in your mind, “It’s never wrong to want something different. Love is more than just a desire we have. It's also about caring for one another. If they truly love you, then they will support you in your dreams just as you have theirs.”

You hadn’t thought of it in that way.

He asked if you wanted him to open a portal to go back home. You thought about it, but for the first time in a long time, you felt this bubble in your chest of overwhelming possibility. You felt alive and you felt like you could do something — anything.

So you stayed.

You took a job at Chan's bookstore at first, mainly to start earning money. While assisting Chan, you noticed the way he had a skip in his step every time. Without a doubt, it was distinctly clear that he loves what he does. It left you in awe and admiration. He moved effortlessly attending to customers. Though he noted that not everyone would always be kind, you were more than entranced in doing something similar like him. You would deal with the unkind people as they came.

After saving up enough, you enrolled in a short course at a university with a one-time downpayment. Slowly you found yourself working towards a goal of yours.

You wanted to start a business like Chan.

It took a lot of time and effort and you had no idea how Chan and the others were able to do this. You asked Chan if he ever used his magic, he said no, only if necessary but he pursued all of his studies as any human would.

According to him, it would make you feel more accomplished.

And with time, it did. But that was only after you got through the one too many pity parties you had for yourself when things got tough. Luckily, Seungmin, Felix and Jeongin felt the same and joined you, so you weren’t left alone to wallow by yourself.

With the support from your newfound friends and others you met at university, you began to create a good life for yourself — wherever you were living. Minho said it is a city called Seoul.

Six months later, you opened your café recruiting some of your friends - Jisung, Beomgyu, Yuri and Stella.

This was the beginning of a whole new life just for you.

#ot8 ateez x reader #ateez x reader #poly ateez x reader #poly!ateez #ateez fluff #ateez fanfic #ateez series

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thefingerfuckingfemalefury · 6 months ago

Text

If this was indeed a hack?

Then

To whoever actually hacked this filthy neo-nazi cattles livestream, I wish to say: KEEP UP THE GOOD WORK

Do it again

Not just to this oxygen thieving waste of organs and the inferior worthless fucking livestock that are its followers

But to every other right wing cunt on earth

Hack their websites, their livestreams, their youtube channels

Flood them with the most beautifully graphic and rough gay porn you can find, just to make the little cunts miserable :D

Do this to them over and over and over again

In the words of one of my favorite fictional lesbians....

#Sfw

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heygerald · 5 months ago

Text

Falling Without A Harness - Chapter 7

AU where Tom Ryder is still an asshole, just not a psychotic one. When Parker starts to let go of her initial assumptions about a man that makes a lasting impression, she starts to see that there's more to him than meets the eye. Yet, she can't help but wonder, why does he insist on acting like an asshole?

Read the story here: prev / next

Parker was dying.

Had to be, anyway, because her organs felt something like slushy-mud water inside her chest, and there was something pounding against her skull that made it hard to think. She couldn't remember the last time she felt like this—her own birthday, maybe—and though she didn't put a lot of emphasis on her own personal health, she was certain that this time she was dying.

Really, really dying.

"I fucking hate Colt," she muttered, cheek pressed against the cool kitchen counter as an antacid tablet dissolved in her cup of water with a looming zzz. It almost hurt to watch, and when half the tablet broke into a chunk to send a torrent of bubbles up to the surface, Parker grimaced. "...blonde bastard."

Her sentiments went unheard in the empty kitchen.

It was still early, and her body ached to return to the couch. It wasn't comfortable by any means, worn in all the wrong places with scratches lining the surface, but it was horizontal, and it didn't involve sorting through books while greeting customers. If she hadn't been so adamant about setting three alarms the night before, Parker surely would have left the bookstore locked up all day.

But, as it was, she needed money, and a Saturday was too good a day to be an irresponsible property owner. So, here she was, crying on the kitchen counter watching her antacid dissolve in hopes that it would miraculously cure a hangover.

She grimaced at the sticky dryness of her mouth.

In hindsight, that last beer probably hadn't been the best idea.

And, in further, more truthful hindsight, neither had been the beer she drank after that one in the parking lot while waiting for their Uber. It had been Dan's challenge to do it under thirty seconds, prompted further by Colt's off-key acapella rendition of We Are The Champions, and though Parker wasn't good at many things, shotgunning a beer was something she was good at.

Who was she to waste a talent?

Her stomach turned at the thought, and she was in the middle of contemplating puking all over Colt's kitchen, when footsteps approached her from behind.

"Well, you look peaky."

Parker groaned low and deep while pressing her face further against the kitchen counter. Jody offered an amused smile before moving towards the fridge. Despite yesterday, she looked good. Bouncy skin, tousled blonde hair, Colt's t-shirt that didn't so much hang as it laid against her thin legs. Oh, and the happy features of someone that were clearly not suffering from a hangover.

Bastards, Parker thought glumly, the both of them.

"Want some?" Jody asked, jug of orange juice in hand. She had the benevolence to at least look tired. Though, not nearly enough in Parker's opinion.

"D'rather have a lobotomy," Parker muttered.

Jody somehow managed a smile and a wince at the same time. "You did drink a lot," she said. The idea of drinking anything had Parker paling, and Jody quickly moved past it to add, "but it was really fun. I think everyone enjoyed it."

She wasn't particularly in the mood for conversation, but Parker supposed the more she talked, the less she had to think about making herself presentable for work, which meant the less she thought about work itself, so she did her best to tamper down her headache with a slow sip of her water.

"S'definitely better than last year's," she said. There was sunlight streaming through the kitchen blinds, and while Jody didn't hesitate to pull them up, she responded by pulling her sweatshirt hood further down over her eyes. Another inhuman noise, before, "thanks for helping plan it."

Jody beamed at the gratitude.

Though, Parker noticed with a growing self-hatred, the Englishwoman seemed to do that naturally. "I'm just glad that I could pitch in. It was a lot of fun. I've never played paintball before."

"Really? Coulda' fooled me. I think my welts have welts."

"Oh," Jody said, hiding a giggle behind her glass of orange juice. "Sorry about that."

Parker got the feeling that Jody wasn't very sorry at all. In fact, from the way Jody and Colt had tore it up on the paintball field, Parker had a strong suspicion that the woman was just as competitive as the boys were.

Waving a hand at her, she said, "don't be sorry. You won, afterall."

"Oh, did we?" she chirped. "I barely noticed."

"Hmph."

"I didn't hit you too hard did I?" she asked, actually sounding curious as she leaned onto the counter.

There was a very large bruise on Parker's back side that would argue differently, but Parker instead shook her head. It sent the room spinning, however, and she just as quickly had to lay her head back onto the counter. "Had me a little scared out there, though. If anyone on set has ever given you shit before, you should just take a paintball gun with you to work."

Jody laughed. "There are one or two," she said. From the look in her eye, it was obvious she could name them, but she didn't. Instead, her eyes darted to Parker.

"Ah," she said. "Well, you had your chance yesterday to shoot him too. I hope you took the opportunity."

At the joke, Jody seemed to relax a bit. Her mouth tugged into a crooked smile as she popped some bread into the toaster. "I tried, but he was a little harder to get than I thought he would be..."

Her voice trailed off, and Parker arched a brow. "What?"

"Er, well, I guess I was a little surprised that you invited him. We all were, I think."

Unbidden guilt crashed down onto Parker's shoulders, and she caught her face in her hands. "I know, I know, I'm sorry... It was a last minute thing. He had stopped by the store and then we were just talking and, well, I don't know..."

Jody's back was to Parker, but she peeked over her shoulder with curiously arched brows. "I didn't realize you were friends. Certainly not after that introduction on set."

Just the thought of that introduction had Parker grimacing. Worse still was the realization that somehow, somewhere in her mind, that Tom was in no way connected to the Tom she had brought alongside her last night. It was as if they were two totally different people, and the reminder that they were actually the same person had her stomach rolling.

Or, that could have been the hangover. Whatever.

Parker picked at a loose thread on her hoodie. "Was Colt upset?"

"That you brought Tom?"

"I didn't ruin the night, did I? I know that he can be a total prick, and that everyone else has bad feelings towards him from work, but... well, I guess I was hoping that everyone else enjoyed last night as much as I did. I mean, I know he's a prick, but he's at least okay to be around sometimes."

"Can you remember?" Jody teased from beside the coffee maker. It beeped as she fiddled with it, before she was puling mugs out of the cabinet. Obviously, she had been here before.

"Does Colt hate me?"

Her smile was soft and graceful. "No, he doesn't hate you. I'm not sure he could, if I'm honest. He talks about you a lot, you know."

Parker didn't think that was necessarily a good thing, but she wasn't about to scold her brother for talking about her on dates. Not when he was actually going on them and she was at home marathoning trashy reality tv.

"And, as for last night," Jody continued, "everyone did have a lot of fun. No nights were ruined."

"Not even...?"

"The Uber driver was actually quite nice about it," she said, skipping over the issue entirely. A good thing too considering the thought of last night made Parker woozy, and she certainly didn't want to relieve that car ride home. Or the two stops they had to make for her and Colt to throw up on the side of the road. "Honestly... I was pleasantly surprised."

Parker frowned. "By the Uber driver?"

"By Tom," she corrected with a laugh.

"Really?"

Jody shrugged. "Granted, I don't know him nearly as well as Colt, and he was an awfully sore loser. I mean—really awful—you should have heard him after paintball."

"Oh, I did," Parker said. "I just blocked it out."

"And yet..."

Parker arched her brows.

Jody smiled, then shrugged once more. "He wasn't nearly as bad as I thought he would be. Losing, I mean. He didn't threaten to fire anyone or sue anyone—"

"Speak for yourself," she muttered under her breath, cup of liquid antacid looking more unappealing by the second.

"And by the end of the night... well, I think he was actually getting along with some of the others. Not really well, mind you. He is still a prick."

Parker snorted. "I don't think anyone was doubting that."

"But a manageable one. It actually felt like he was hanging out with us, you know, rather than dictating on set."

Parker tried not to sound too hopeful as she tugged on her thread. "Yeah?"

Obviously, she failed, because when Jody smiled there was something conniving to it. Something suspicious twinkling her eyes. Yet, the woman didn't dig in deeper. Just moved on. "He might not admit it, but I think Colt was more pleased than he let on when Colt said he was a great stuntman. I was too. Mind you, on our last film, Ryder asked Colt if he could get a jaw implant to look more like himself."

Parker made a face. "Yeah, I heard about that."

"I think this was the first time he ever complimented Colt. In, like, a decade of working together. Can you believe that?"

She could. The guy was a prick. But also, Parker didn't want to believe it—struggled to envision that as the same guy that had come to her bookstore twice now—and so she sipped her water so she didn't have to respond.

Jody, however, noticed all of that. "Since when have you two been friends?"

"Friends? We're not—it's not—we just... know each other."

"Hm," Jody hummed, clearly not buying it. "Yet you brought him to Colt's birthday party. And apparently you talk."

"I don't plan when he come to the store," she said defensively.

That surprised Jody, and as she filled the mugs up with coffee, she said, "oh. When you said you were talking I didn't realize you meant in person. You literally dragged him to the birthday party, then."

"I wouldn't say I dragged him," Parker muttered as she accepted a mug. The coffee was low quality and definitely burnt from Colt's stupid machine, but just the smell of it had her feeling better. She cradled the steaming hot mug between her hands with a deep inhale. "What did you think I meant?"

"I thought you meant you were talking on the phone."

"Colt told you about that? It's so weird. I still have no idea how he got my phone number," she mused, chancing a sip. It burned her tongue immediately, but Parker didn't care. She was not a morning person, and didn't function this early unless she had three cups of coffee. Hangover or not. "The prick."

Jody hedged from her cup of coffee, but didn't say anything.

Parker shrugged. If Jody didn't want to rail on Tom Ryder being a prick, that was her decision. Moving on, she added, "anyways, I really did appreciate your help with the party, even if I ended up fudging the team numbers by lugging Tom along. You were a life saver with getting everyone's phone numbers."

Whatever Jody had been thinking passed over, and she smiled. "Yeah, of course. Thanks for letting me help. I know... you know—Colt's your brother—I'm not trying to, er... step on anyone's toes."

It was funny to watch her get flustered, and Parker gave the woman an impish smile as she took another sip of her water. "Colt's a big boy, and he can do whatever he wants," she said. "Besides, I think you're great. Why would I have a problem with you wanting to help plan his party?"

"You think I'm great?" Jody asked.

To that, Parker rolled her eyes, and though it had the pounding behind her temples start up again, it felt worth it. "You get enough compliments from my brother, you don't need to go fishing for them with me too."

"Me? No. I hate fishing. Detest it, really."

Parker harrumphed, but couldn't help but snicker as she took a deep whiff of her drink. "Well, if you aren't fishing, then I don't need to tell you that he doesn't act like this with just anyone," she said before taking a long sip. Too long, and it burned her mouth immediately. "Fuck!"

"Hot?"

"I thought you weren't fishing anymore," Parker muttered while wiping drool off her chin.

"I was talking about the coffee!" Jody cried in response. But then she caught the haughty look Parker was shooting her and couldn't help but laugh. The sound hurt her ears, but, god, if everything about the woman wasn't perfect. "You and Colt, honestly. The things that you say are so ridiculous."

She vaguely remembered Tom saying the same thing the night before. A smile pulled at her burnt lips. "Tom would agree. He said something similar last night."

That look returned. "You know, for not being friends you've come a long way from calling him an asshole. I thought you were going to break his nose that day on set."

Parked moaned. "Oh, not you too."

"I'm just saying," Jody defended from behind a steaming mug of coffee. She blew on it coolly, as though the answer to her question didn't matter in the slightest. "I just couldn't help but notice how well you were getting along last night. Spent a lot of time together, too."

"Shah, because some Englishwoman came and stole my brother from me," she retorted blithely. "I always knew boomers complained about immigrants stealing jobs, but stealing drinking buddies is a little vindictive. Even for the English."

"Oi!" Jody exclaimed, though it ended in a laugh. "You and Colt spent plenty of time together last night. If I recall, we were trying to get away from you lot and that ridiculous game of yours."

Parker perked. "Game?"

"Something about a cat in the woods."

She thought through the previous night's events, and when the card game came to mind, her stomach rolled a second time. Moaning, she willed herself to disappear into a universe where responsibilities didn't exist. "Ugh, no wonder I feel like I'm dying."

"It was a ridiculous game. The amount you drank was ghoulish."

Something rolled in her stomach. "We don't have to—"

"And the rules didn't make any sense. It's all about drinking, drinking, drinking—"

And yep. That did it.

Parker barely made it to the toilet before she was puking up a stomach full of last night's drinks. The bathroom floor was cooler than the kitchen counter, at least, and as she caught her breath, she vowed to never drink again. Or play that retched game.

From the doorway, Jody grimaced. "Sorry."

Parker haphazardly waved her off. "S'fine. Just do me a favor and kill Colt for me, will you? The bastard..."

Jody smiled. "I think he might already be dead."

"What?"

Jody inclined her head to the left, and Parker turned to find her brother curled into a ball in the bathtub. He was wearing his Miami Vice jacket backwards, and his bucket hat was drawn low over his eyes. He was so pale that she might have actually thought he was dead if it wasn't for the quiet groan of misery he let out.

"He's been in here for an hour," she said in lieu of a proper explanation. "Ran in here, threw up, and then passed out in the shower because it felt nice. I decided to leave him. Just seemed easiest."

Parker didn't doubt that.

"What a fucking idiot," she said instead, and though Jody didn't respond, when the blonde sipped her coffee, the smug grin she was wearing made it obvious that she agreed.

---

Two coffees, a greasy bagel, and an antacid tablet later has Parker feeling moderately like a human being. The hangover is still there—teasing the inside of her skull every couple minutes—but it's better now. More manageable, at the very least.

Of course, manageable hangovers at work don't make for good working environments, and as the door rings with the sound of a brass bell, Parker adjusts the sunglasses perched on the edge of her nose.

"Hi, welcome in," she says. Though, when she looks she realizes that it's not a customer, but instead a tween girl with far too much trouble in her eyes. "Oh, it's you."

"You could sound a little more enthusiastic about it," Melissa chides, arms jingling with the sound of too many stacked bracelets to count. She looks pretty today—she looks pretty every day—and though Parker isn't in the mood for vibrant conversation, she can't deny that it's always nice to see her most loyal customer. "I am your number one, afterall."

"Number one...?"

"Customer!" Melissa chirps with a smile as if she can hear Parker's innermost thoughts. She swings closer to the counter with dancing eyes. "I have a couple more ideas I wanted to run by you before tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?"

"Sunday," Melissa says slowly, blinking. "Hello? Does painting sound familiar to you?"

Parker pinches the bridge of her nose with a sigh. She's all out of interest in paint; the welts on her ribcage haven't been forgotten, and she can feel something tweaking in her lower back from being bent over for hours at a time.

God, she's old.

"I thought we were about finished."

"Finished? Not even close," Melissa corrects her. She settles her tote bag onto the counter. Her nose scrunches distastefully as she glances around. "We only did the walls. We still have to do the shelves. And I think those will take longer since I want to add some cute detailing to them. Have you thought about shelf liners?"

"What the hell are shelf liners?"

"You know," she gestures. "Like wallpaper, but for shelves."

"That sounds expensive."

"And totally worth it. Look," she sticks her phone across the counter, Pinterest page already pulled up, and starts scrolling. The speed at which she's doing it, however, as Parker's eyes going crossed. She sits back with a groan. "It's not that bad!"

"No, no, it's not..." she starts, then stops. "Can we just talk about this tomorrow?"

Melissa pouts. "Fine, but we'll probably need to start painting first thing, since you can't put the books back up until the shelves dry completely."

"Are we sure this is even necessary?"

"Completely," the girl says, and there's no room left for argument as she pops her hip out. "I told you this place looks so much better already, but the shelves will be worth it. It'll really help everything pop. And I have some ideas about stickers we can use to make cute signs for all the book sections."

Parker sighs. "Don't you go to school?"

"Yeah. And?"

"How do you have time for all of this stuff?" she asks, a floppy hand gesturing half-heartedly to the room around them. She doesn't mean to offend Melissa in any way, but she can't imagine that there's a teen girl out there who spends all of her time dedicated to fixing up a dilapidated bookstore. "Shouldn't you be in, I don't know, cheerleading or something?"

Melissa shoots her a tart expression. "Cheerleading is so totally dated, Park. Sexist, too. They just have skinny girls wearing tiny little skirts for the objective male gaze."

"...right."

"Besides," she continues, bracelets jangling as she pops a piece of gum into her mouth. "I love this place."

Even more bewildered, Parker repeats herself. "...right."

"Speaking of—" Melissa says, and when she leans against the counter there's a waft of vanilla and lemon perfume. Parker almost gets sick at the strength of it, and she sips her coffee with a grimace. "When are you going to hire me?"

"I already did."

"For real," Melissa asserts, digging her heels in. "You said you'd think about it, and you've had plenty of time. I mean all you do is hang out here."

"Okay, ouch."

"I want a job."

"Can we talk about this tomorrow too?" Parker whines. She knows she's the adult in the situation, but... well, she really doesn't want to be. The idea of doing math and taxes has her head spinning painfully. "I'm—I have a headache."

Melissa narrows her eyes at that. Smarter beyond her years, the girl doesn't miss much, and when she leans across the counter, Parker wishes her sweatshirt would swallow her whole. "What's up with you?"

"What do you mean?"

"You look bad."

"Oh, gee, thanks."

She waves a hand indifferently, and squints. "Not like that. I mean you look like you're sick. Are you sick?"

Her stomach roils, and Parker tries to hide the uncomfortable wince behind another sip of scalding black coffee. "A bit."

"You were fine on Wednesday."

"Must have caught something," she lies. The last thing she needed to do is be blamed for being a bad influence on a teenager.

Melissa furrows her brows, reaching to plant a palm against Parker's forehead. She tries to duck it, but only manages to send the room spinning a second time. "You don't feel like you have a fever."

"Twenty four hour bug I guess," she says, waving a hand as if it really was that simple. It wasn't, and when she bends down to scoop a pile of books off the ground her vision flashes white. Colt was such a fucking bastard. "Ugh."

"Oh. My. God."

She slams her eyes shut, head steepled between three fingers, already knowing what was about to come. Parker really can't handle Melissa's high-pitched tone of judgement, however, and considers just giving the girl the keys to the store right then and there. "Don't."

"Are you—?"

"No."

"—hungover?" Melissa finished anyways. She whispered the word like it was some big secret, but by the way that her eyes widened and her mouth pulled into a sneaky grin, it was obvious that the news was all too interesting to her. Especially when Parker didn't answer her right away. "Oh my god! You totally are!"

The boom of her voice had Parker's head hurting, and she let her head fall into her hands with a groan. It was a saving grace that the store was empty.

Well, not entirely a saving grace considering she needed customers, but...

"What happened?" Melissa pried. "Did you go on a date last night?"

"You think I would get black out drunk on a date?" she asked.

The girl shrugged. "I don't know, maybe it went really well."

Parker rubbed her temple wearily. "You're not going on dates are you? Because you shouldn't be getting black out on the first one, ever. That's dating one-o-one."

"Oh, whatever," she flipped a perfectly manicured hand at Parker before settling further onto the counter. It was obvious that she had sunk her teeth into the subject. The last time she done that, she convinced Parker to repaint the entire store. Hopefully, this one wouldn't be as expensive. "Not a date then. What'd you do?"

Parker sighed. "It was Colt's birthday party."

Melissa ooh-ed with a dreamy smile. "I can't wait until I can drink. Legally, I mean. Obviously I've tried beer before," she said with batted eyelashes. It seemed that she was completely ignoring the very real reality of what happened when one drank too much, and Parker rolled her eyes. "Why did you come in today? When my brother drank a lot at Christmas he was in bed until dinner the next day. Mom said he had the flu, but, like, come on."

Parker gave a half-hearted hum. Any other day a glimpse into Melissa's home life would have amused her—teenagers nowadays really did baffle her—but at the moment she didn't have the mental capacity to do much other than try not to die. "I had to open the shop."

To that, Melissa grinned. "Well, if you had another employee..."

"Oh, please, Melissa," Parker threw up a hand with a groan. "Seriously. Not today. I'm weak willed. I can't have this conversation; I'm not in the right mind, and nothing will be legally binding."

"I'm just saying!" the girl threw up her own hands with a laugh. There was something conniving about it, though. Something glittering in her eyes. "If you had another employee, then you would be able to take a morning off every once in a while. How is that a bad thing?"

"You're taking advantage of me," Parker pointed out with a sour frown.

"Actually, you could argue that I'm trying to help you."

"Hmph."

"But, now that we're on the subject," she continued, eyes flapping like Bambi as she walked a slow circle. Only, Parker got the distinct impression that she was a hen stuck with a fox, and as she wiggled her sunglasses nervously, she tried to remind herself that she was the adult in the conversation. "The store looks way nicer, and you've been getting compliments from people, and I still have a lot more ideas for what else we could do. Don't you think that hiring me would benefit us both? We could start doing work throughout the week which means you would get your Sundays back to yourself."

Parker slumped onto her hands. "Are the devil?"

"Parker," she whined, returning to the counter where she delicately propped her head on two palms, ever the essence of beauty and grace. "Please?"

The throbbing in her head hadn't gone away, and the sweat dripping down her back was as uncomfortable as it was gross. Parker had avoided every mirror in her house that morning knowing that however she looked wasn't pretty, and having someone actually pretty blinking at her made Parker feel slightly violent.

And sick.

And, well, maybe having a second employee around for the days that she was sick wasn't the worst idea out there. Not to mention that Melissa had garnered her lots of compliments over the past couple of weeks, and the store did look the best it ever had. The girl had good ideas, Parker couldn't deny that. And she certainly didn't lack a work ethic. She had been begging for a job for weeks now, and didn't once skimp on her painting responsibilities when they came together on the weekends. If anything, she was giving herself more to do every time she came.

She let out a long, self-suffering sigh. "...alright."

Melissa froze. "Really?"

"Part time, three days a week, and Saturday mornings."

"Really?"

"And I'm not paying more than minimum wage."

Her eyes were the size of saucers, waiting on baited breath, as she asked a third time, "really?!"

Slowly, Parker nodded. "Really."

Melissa jumped, squealing, and if her head hadn't hurt earlier, it was like an elephant coming through in a parade. Hand up, she said, "okay, okay, but you have to stop before I hurl. Seriously, this energy is... not a good way to start out as an employee."

"This is so sick," Melissa said anyway, unfazed by Parker's white-washed face. "I still think we should do liners for the shelves, and little gold accents, but that'll take a while, so maybe tomorrow we just start with painting this section—"

She gestured as she talked, and she talked a lot. And though Parker was only half paying attention, she hummed and nodded when appropriate. Afterall, the store did look so much better, and she could use another employee. Particularly one as clever as Melissa.

Sipping her coffee, she smiled.

Until she felt another wave of nausea.

One of these days, she swore, she would seriously kick her brother's ass.

---

Crave Cafe, only two blocks down from her own bookstore, was like stepping into a different world. The cafe itself was beautifully decorated, vintage artwork on the wall, string of pearls hanging from rope baskets in the corners, with soft LED lights in the shape of lightning bolts and cappuccinos on the wall. Discolored and misshapen mugs could be seen scattered throughout the inside, with every odd table occupied by varying individuals. Chatter echoed throughout over the sound of coffee grinders and a Spotify playlist, and though Parker was always a little sore that Crave's clientele didn't show much interest in her own storefront, she had to admit that it was her favorite place around.

Not just because the coffee was cheap, the bread always freshly made, and the general ambiance, but also because the manager, a young man named Harry, was always happy to see her.

"Don't tell me you're working again today," he said while setting about putting her order together. "I thought you were closed on Sundays."

Parker shrugged. She felt much better today, having a full night's sleep and a long shower, and though she was about to go back to more painting, she was in an arguably good mood. "Melissa's taken over the store, I'm afraid. She keeps seeing stuff on Pinterest that she's wants to try."

"Too scared to tell her no?"

"Is it lame if I say yes?"

Harry laughed, slinging a pink and yellow patterned towel over his shoulder. "I can't say I blame you. Kids nowadays are frightening. I have my own group that hangs around for hours that I'm too afraid to shoo away. When did girls get so intimidating?"

Parker followed his line of sight to a trio of teen girls. They ducked their heads at being spotted, giggles erupting from their table. "I think you're teens are a little different than mine," she pointed out with an arched brow. "Namely, Melissa isn't hoping I'll ask her to the prom."

Harry laughed at that. Parker didn't wonder why there were teen girls ogling him—he was an objectively attractive guy, white teeth, nice tattoos, good sense of humor, and the odd finger painted black, he was practically a knockoff Pete Davidson. Apparently, that was what every girl wanted nowadays. "Not that you know of, anyway," he teased while working the frother. "I'll have to come over and check it out for myself. Bet it looks nice."

She rolled her eyes with a snort. "Anything looks nicer than it looked before," she said. "I did finally get rid of that weird smell though. Score for me. Only took three gallons of Pine Sol and way too many candles. Which, I think are actually toxic but whatever. A wins a win."

He laughed again while sliding her coffees across the counter. "How late do you think you'll be there today?"

"Knowing Melissa? Till midnight. She's a bit of a hard ass."

"Perfect. I'll stop by after my shift."

"That's very presumptuous of you," she chirped, smiling. It was hard not to smile when talking to Harry. She wasn't naive enough to ignore his flirting; particularly when she stopped by three times a week for her caffeine fix. But Harry was like every other surfer in California—flaky, flirty, and trouble. Not her type in the slightest, but he was a friend, and often gave her coffee on the house. "But, if you must, bring me a bagel?"

He winked. "Anything for a pretty girl."

Parker shook her head with a smile and gathered her coffees and sandwiches up before leaving. The table of teenagers shot her dirty looks when she walked by, to which she smiled right back.

The walk back to her shop was short, stalled only when she stopped to pet a slumbering bulldog along the sidewalk. The bell overhead jingled when she entered. Despite the CLOSED sign on the door, she never bothered to lock up when they were painting. If someone was stupid enough to stumble in, she figured they would be stupid enough to fork over some cash on a book or two. And Parker would never say no to cash.

"I got the coffees!" she called when Melissa didn't immediately come to the front. Music played softly on the speakers, but the store seemed empty. Shelves had been shifted to the side with stacks of books off to the other, and the tarp crinkled under her sneakers as she walked over it. "Melissa? Hello? Did you...?"

Trailing back further proved that Melissa wasn't ignoring her, but instead in an adamant conversation.

A conversation with none other than Tom Ryder.

Parker stopped short. "Tom?"

The pair turned to her. Melissa's face was flushed, and her cheeks were split in two from the width of her smile. Her chest was heaving as if she had just been talking nonstop. Which, likely, she had.

And despite the fact that he was being mobbed by a teenager, Tom didn't seem to mind one bit. In fact, he was standing casually bent against the ladder, brows relaxed, shoulders loose underneath his expensive leather jacket. And though she expected him to greet her—like friends did—the first thing out of his mouth was, "I was wondering when you got a sense of style, before realizing that you were outsourcing to this one."

"I—what?"

Tom gestured to the bookstore as Melissa grabbed her Chai latte out of Parker's hands without so much as a thank you. "The color is much more modern, and the gold accenting really brings things together. Could use some better wall decor, but I'd bet anything nice is out of your budget."

Parker blinked. At him. Then at Melissa. "What?"

Melissa, still grinning, waved an emphatic hand at the celebrity standing across from her. "Mr. Ryder—"

"Melissa, come on, I already told you to call me Tom. We're friends, aren't we?"

She paused, flushing under his gentle comment, before tucking some loose hair behind her ear with an even bigger grin. Parker rolled her eyes at the act of it all. "Tom stopped by to talk to you, but since you were out, I let him in. He was wondering what we were painting, so I showed him what we are doing today, and then I showed him what we've done the last couple of weeks."

"Stellar, really," he chimed in. She beamed beneath his praise, and Parker swore a helicopter could have caught the brightness of her teeth from a mile away. "I think she's done a great job so far."

"I helped," Parker reminded him indignantly. Not just because he was quite obviously playing it up for the attention, but also because she was so thrown by his presence in the first place that she felt uncomfortable having walked in on them talking. "Paid it for it, too."

He acted like he hadn't even heard her. "I'll have to come back when it's finished. What design of shelf liner do you'll think you'll get?"

"I'm not totally sure. I really like the dark, forest style, with the birds and branches. But I also think that the brighter gold style would look good set against the books."

"Wait, I thought I said no to the shelf liners?" Parker interrupted.

"To which I reminded you that it would look so good," Melissa shot back. When she remembered who she was talking to, however, she gestured shyly to Tom. "Besides, he thinks it would look good too. So, that's two opinions against one, right?"

"What—he doesn't work here!" Parker exclaimed, feeling a bit like she had stumbled into the Twilight Zone. Since when did Tom Ryder have any opinion about her store besides thinking it was dirty? And since when did she care about his opinion in the first place? "It doesn't matter what he thinks."

"Should," Tom added. He looked much too smug in that moment, yet, when Melissa glanced at him, his smirk became gentler. "I mean, I do have a good eye for this sort of thing. And I'm a paying customer. Doesn't hurt to listen to your customers every once in a while does it?"

"I have the right to kick out customers, you know," she warned.

Melissa didn't like that one bit, and her voice pitched in horror. "Parker! You can't—come on. He's—you know—Tom Ryder," she said, enunciating every syllable as if Parker wasn't aware of who had stumbled into her store when it was supposed to be closed. Tom, on the other hand, pointed right back at Melissa smugly.

As if to say, yeah, I'm Tom Ryder.

Sighing, Parker pinched the bridge of her nose. Yesterday's headache seemed to be coming back full force. "I know who he is, and I don't care. And I think it's time for your break now. Sandwich?"

Melissa glanced between said sandwich, her boss, and her celebrity crush for a long moment, before accepting it with a frown. "Thirty minutes?"

"Sure."

Her mood was obviously glum as she glanced between them both once more before stalking towards the back room. She paused in the doorway. "It was nice meeting you."

Tom, for what he was worth, never missed with a grin. "Likewise. I'm glad that someone working here has a sense of style."

And just that like her glum mood vanished. Melissa smiled, blushed, and disappeared into the back room with a pep in her step. When she was gone, Tom returned his attention to Parker.

"Is that for me?" he asked. Though, he didn't even wait for an answer before he was swiping the coffee out of her hand and taking a sip. If looks could kill, it was a good thing there was already a tarp spread out beneath his feet. He furrowed his brows. "Is this an americano?"

"Yes. Mine," she snarked, grabbing it back with a huff. "Why would I have gotten you a coffee? I didn't even know you were here."

He shrugged. "Feeling generous?"

"Why are you here? We're technically closed today."

"The door was unlocked," he said, and Parker's thoughts returned to her earlier sentiments. Stupid indeed. "I do like the paint. Looks cleaner. Not so sad, anymore."

"My store wasn't sad."

"Alright, ugly."

She trailed towards the front counter with a sigh. Part of her was amused—it was nice to have someone to banter back and forth it, particularly someone like Tom—but the more sane part of her was annoyed. Only he would come drink her coffee and then insult her bookstore.

And only he would be allowed to do that. Why was that?

"Are you here for more book recommendations?" she asked, forcibly moving the conversation along as she began to unwrap her turkey, cheese, and bacon sandwich. The bread crumbled in her hands, and Parker's stomach growled at the smell. "Obviously it's a little messy right now, but I could pull a few more out for you."

He shook his head; both to shake loose fringe out of his eyes and to give her a undiscernible look. "You seem to have recovered from the party Friday night. I was pretty certain either you or Colt would be dead by now."

"And yet you didn't call," she deadpanned. "How touching."

Tom's mouth quirked at the side, and he took another long sip of her coffee. He didn't even seem to care that it wasn't his own. "Is he alright then?"

She hummed around a bite of turkey. "By the time I left yesterday morning he was sleeping it off in the bathtub. So, not really any different than last year."

"What did you do last year?"

Parker couldn't really remember, she just knew that there was a whole lot of alcohol involved, and someone set off fireworks that got them in trouble with the neighbors. "Had a poker night, I think. I don't really remember much after someone got the absinthe out though."

To that, he did laugh. Though, he shook his head and glanced away as if he didn't want her to know that he did. "I always thought that Colt was trouble, but you're no better, are you? The two of you last night drank half a cooler worth of beer."

She shrugged, completely unperturbed. Mostly because she knew he was teasing, and only slightly because she knew his partying habits would outshine hers any day. "If I recall I was asking you to drink more with us," she pointed out with a snooty look. "You were the one refusing to join in. Something about the drinks being too low brow or something."

"It wasn't the brand that kept me from drinking," he retorted. Parker didn't believe that for a second though, and when he caught the arch of her eyebrow, he rolled his eyes. "I couldn't keep up with your stupid game, alright?"

"Just admit that you're a lightweight, Ryder. I won't judge you."

"I'm not a lightweight."

"Acceptance is the first step."

"You're so fucking annoying," he said with an eyeroll. But then he was peeking at her over the counter and when their gazes met, the pair dissolved into a fit of laughter. It was a nice sound; one that she quite liked earning. Parker remembered he laughed a lot at the beach, even if she didn't always remember why he was laughing. "Whatever. You better not drink that much at my party or else I'll have you kicked out myself. Just because there's any open bar doesn't mean you need to drink everything in sight, yeah?"

Parker furrowed her brows at him. "Party?" she asked.

Tom shifted on his feet, pushing off where he had been leaning on his elbows to pluck a nearby book off the counter. Absentmindedly, he flipped through it. "My party on Friday. To announce my part in the movie. You and Colt are coming, aren't you?" he said, as if this was a conversation they had before, and not something he was springing on her out of the blue.

Her first response was to make some sort of scathing response about how she wouldn't be caught dead at one of his parties. But, Parker couldn't help but notice how he shifted on his feet, how he was avoiding her gaze.

What could someone like you ever have to be anxious about? she had asked him that fateful day in the bathroom. It was so out of character then.

But now?

Tom Ryder was an asshole, but he was also a person.

She set her sandwich down onto the parchment paper. "I didn't realize we were going to be invited. Is that alright with Gail?"

He responded with a derisive snort. "It's my party. Besides, there's over a hundred people on the guest list. She won't even realize you're there. As long as you don't dress like you normally do, that is."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

His blue eyes swept over her hair, to her paint stained sweatshirt that he had now seen her wearing twice, and then to the store around them. "It's going to be an upscale party. Important people are going to be there. I can't have you and Colt running around like idiots, getting drunk, and ruining mink rugs."

"Do you have mink rugs?" she shot back.

"Of course I don't have mink rugs."

"Then problem solved," she said, waving a hand at him. It certainly didn't answer all of his points, however, and when Tom stopped flipping through his book to shoot her a glare, Parker conceded with a sigh. "Alright. We'll dress nice. I won't spill anything on my pants. And Colt will be on his best behavior."

"Good."

"On one condition."

Tom's eye twitched. "You can't be serious."

"Colt get's a plus-one," she said anyway, ignoring the knit of his brows or the pull of his mouth. He responded just as she expected, with a long suffering sigh and an eyeroll. "Oh, come on! He'll bring Jody, and no one is better at keeping an eye on him than her. Plus, you're right. We're not going to know anyone there. We'll stay in our own little pathetic poor people bubble. And if you do get annoyed with us, you can kick me out yourself. I bet you'd love that."

He sighed a second time, relaxing onto the counter. "I don't invite set hands to my house," he pointed out. Though, it was a bit of a moot point, wasn't it? Considering the fact that he was doing just that—and, if Parker had to guess—without Gail's stamp of approval. Not to mention the fact that his tone was soft. Not harsh or judgmental.

Just arguing for the sake of arguing.

Parker smiled at him. "First time for everything, right? I'll even tip off the pap. You might get some good press out of this," she teased.

And though he was playing the victim, Tom's mouth curved into a crooked smile anyway. Still, he made a roll of rolling his eyes a second time. "Fine. But seriously? Best behavior."

She wiggled her fingers at him in a mock salute. "Promise."

They stared at one another. His eyes, deep and bright, searching for something she wasn't quite sure. Her own, light and gentle, taking in everything. It never cased to surprise Parker just how handsome he was—no matter how much she wished that she was just making it up, or that his ego wasn't deserved—Tom Ryder was beautiful.

And when he smiled, she couldn't help but think he looked so much better like this than he did in all those over-touched advertisements. Here, now, he looked happy. Effortless. Real as he took another sip of his coffee. Eyes crinkled and teasing, mouth curved around the plastic lid, hair air dried but perfectly swept towards his temples.

He was—

"Hang on a minute. That's my coffee you ass!"

The ass, knowing now that he had been caught, set the empty cup back onto the counter with an empty thud, before attempting to make off with her sandwich too. And as he laughed, she was certain that she was finally starting to see the real Tom Ryder.

She kept that in mind when she let him see the real Parker Seavers, and leapt across the counter after him.

#falling without a harness #tom ryder #tom ryder x ofc #original female character #tom ryder imagine #the fall guy #the fall guy imagine #series

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macgyvermedical · 2 months ago

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Let's Talk ESRD and Dialysis

Have you thanked your kidneys today? Do you feel grateful when you pee? How about when you eat a little too much potassium or drink a little too much water, do you really enjoy feeling confident that your kidneys will just dispose of the excess?

If so, you probably know the alternative.

About 10% of the world's population has a condition called Chronic Kidney Disease, or CKD. About 2 million of those people are in End Stage Renal Disease (ESRD) and require dialysis or a kidney transplant to live.

Your kidneys are amazing things. They are two organs that sit outside of the sac that hold the rest of the abdominal organs, called the peritoneum. They take in blood from the body, determine the levels of electrolytes, water, and waste products in that blood, and remove the waste products and excess electrolytes and water.

They also have secondary tasks. They monitor the amount of red blood cells in your blood and send out hormones that entice the bone marrow to make more when we're low. They also monitor blood pressure and release hormones that raise that blood pressure when it gets low.

Lots of things can hurt the kidneys. For example, poorly controlled high blood pressure and poorly controlled diabetes are among the top reasons why kidneys fail. Additionally, being dehydrated while engaging in strenuous exercise or taking medications like ibuprofen or naproxen (any NSAIDs) can cause kidney damage.

We measure how well the kidneys are working via the Glomerular Filtration Rate, or GFR. This is a measure of (essentially) how much blood in milliliters the kidneys filter per minute. 90 or higher is normal, while a GFR of 15 or lower is considered ESRD.

So let's say someone has a GFR of less than 15 and the decision is made to start them on dialysis and put them on the kidney transplant list. What options do they have?

Well, they need to figure out if they want to do hemodialysis or peritoneal dialysis.

In hemodialysis, the patient is hooked up to a machine that runs their blood across a special membrane. On the other side of the membrane, a solution called dialysate draws excess water, electrolytes, and waste products from the blood. Hemodialysis is usually done at a dialysis center for 3-5 hours, 3 times per week.

Hemodialysis is better for patients who have either failed home peritoneal dialysis or can't or aren't comfortable with doing the technical part of the job by themself at home. There is also a social component, where dialysis is a chance to meet and interact with other people who are going through the same things they are.

People who undergo hemodialysis have to have some kind of "access", or a way for the blood to come out of their body, go through a machine, and go back into their body. For some people, this is a dialysis catheter that is inserted into the person's chest and looks like this:

It can also be a fistula. A fistula is the surgical connection between a vein and an artery in the arm or leg. Over time, this connection becomes large and rubbery, and each time dialysis is done, two needles (one to remove blood, and one to return it) are placed in the fistula. A fistula often looks like this:

In peritoneal dialysis, the patient instills the dialysate directly into the sac that holds their abdominal organs. The sac itself acts as the membrane, and dialysate draws the electrolytes, water, and waste directly through the sac wall. They then wait a certain number of hours, and drain the dialysate. This can be done manually by the patient during the day, or at night while the patient sleeps with a machine called an automatic cycler. Usually peritoneal dialysis is done every day, with 2-4 cycles of 4 hours per cycle.

People using peritoneal dialysis also need a form of access, but instead of it being to their blood stream, it is to their peritoneum. Here's what that looks like:

The catheter is placed surgically into the peritoneum, and stays there all the time, even in between dialysis sessions.

Someone using peritoneal dialysis has to be very careful when they are accessing their dialysis catheter. This is because the biggest problem with peritoneal dialysis is the risk of a life threatening infection called peritonitis. Someone who gets peritonitis too many times may need to switch to hemodialysis.

Here is what a manual exchange looks ilke:

youtube

Someone may choose to do peritoneal dialysis over hemodialysis because it affords more freedom to keep a job or do daily tasks like keeping house. People who do PD also don't have to find rides to the dialysis center. However, they do have to take on more of the responsibility for making sure they do treatments correctly and be able to keep accurate records of the treatments they give themselves. Peritoneal dialysis also tends to be less taxing on the body, and have fewer side effects than hemodialysis when done correctly.

#writing reference #nursing #dialysis #Youtube

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probablyasocialecologist · 8 months ago

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A team of researchers at ETH Zurich in Switzerland has made a discovery that they say could turn recycling e-waste into a literal goldmine. The researchers devised a novel way to extract precious metal from electronic waste, a sustainable method that is based on a byproduct from the food industry. And it's pretty lucrative as well. For each dollar spent, the team suggests you could make $50 worth of gold. Best of all, they say, it's an incredibly environmentally friendly process. The team found that protein fibril sponges, made from protein-rich byproducts from cheesemaking, can be used to extract the gold from discarded e-waste.

[...]

According to the World Health Organization, e-waste is the fastest-growing solid waste stream in the world, with millions of electrical devices being discarded and thrown away. Without being recycled properly, this waste is not only incredibly harmful to the environment, but it can also be toxic to humans.

#gold #mining #electronic waste #recyling

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toxic3mmy · 1 month ago

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prompt: alex is your new and annoying step brother

guys i redid itttt

ps it’s a little sad cozzzz im a little sad

(vvvvvvv sad actually)

anyway ENJOY MEOWWW

Part Three

it was a few hours later when the two of you were in your rooms. both of you thinking about confronting the other.

the house was eerily quiet. you could hear your own soft breathing

as you laid restlessly in the dark, you could hear a buzz from so much silence and it was freaking you out

you decided to get up and see if by any chance that alex was awake. you walked slowly to the door of his bedroom trying to collect your thoughts. you held up your hand to begin to knock when the door opened in front of you.

“um… hey, i was just wondering if you were still awake”

he said nothing and yet in the pitch black of the house, you still saw his almost angry face. he then grabbed your arm and pulled you into his room, closing the door behind the two of you.

as he practically slammed you against his closed door, you took a second to look around his room. he had a dim lamp lighting up the room slightly from his bedside table. he had dark furniture. the whole room was quite tidy and organized to your surprise. he had a few band posters up along with a collection of nerdy trinkets.

“y/n.. you… you shouldn’t have been doing that earlier! you-you should have locked the god damn door and-and.. fuck”

you jumped at his sudden raise of voice and he pinned your arms above your head against his door roughly

“listen to me very clearly when i tell you this because i’m only going to say it once and that’s it, you got it?” he growled in your face

you nodded and winced as alex’s grip on your arms tightened purposely

“good. first, this is my house so what i say goes. secondly, you don’t ask your mom for permission or even my dad. you ask me because until i can figure out how to get rid of you, you’re my responsibility. never snoop. not in my room or anywhere else in the house. and lastly, you lock every door you’re behind because you can’t—you’re just—ugh! you know what i’m saying.. if you decide not to abide by my rules, you’re gonna wish you never met me. do you understand me, little girl?”

again, you nodded silently as he finally calmed down a bit but still stayed close to your face

“nothing smart to say, huh?” he continued,

“you know, you’re kinda pretty when your big mouth doesn’t get in the way…” he smirked, leaning so close that your lips almost touched

your held your breath in anticipation before whispering,

“and you’re kinda sweet when your personality isn’t showing”

you closed your eyes and were almost pursing your lips for him

your eyes immediately opened in shock as you heard alex chuckling softly. he let go of you and stood back from you

“you didn’t think i’d really kiss you, did you? you’re such an idiot, sweetheart”

you didn’t waste any time at all as you left his bedroom with tears silently streaming down your face.

—

the two of you had been avoiding each other like the god damn plague. it’s been an entire week since the um… incident.

you were frustrated with the way alex could completely ignore you. you hated the way you would constantly catch him looking at you and pretend like he wasn’t.

you were completely embarrassed from the rejection and it was killing you that alex was acting all pissy towards you.

at least now you had something to distract you from him.

apparently, a close friend of your soon to be stepdad had gifted them a honeymoon trip but the catch was that it had to be at the end of the month. why was this even a thing? who knows. still, your parents decided to marry by the end of the week and leave for their honeymoon to paris right afterwards. it was the middle of the month, after all.

and so, the whole time you were trying to get alex alone so that you could confront him about that night, your mom was making you try on dresses and help her find the perfect dress and the perfect flowers, etc etc.

it was a real handful but you wanted your mom to be happy. the good thing was that the wedding reception would take place at your new house. so that meant that you didn’t need to worry about running around and picking things up, everything would be sent to your house.

throughout the whole week you’re probably wondering where alex was. well, he was keeping himself busy, too. he was doing some planning but mostly, he just kinda stayed away from the house.

or maybe he was staying away from you.

you were starting to think you did something wrong.

did he find you disgusting for doing what you were doing in the bath?

was the image of you naked so mortifying to him that he couldn’t even look you in the eye anymore?

was he planning on telling everyone about this at the wedding?

no, he wouldn’t dare ruin something this important… or would he? he was quite the asshole so it could be a possibility.

“y/n! did you even hear a word i said?”

“oh.. um, sorry. i kinda zoned out. what did you say?”

“i said, help me zip this dress dammit! if i had more arms i would” your mom sighed and pinched her nose in frustration

“hey, mom? is everything okay?” you grabbed her hand in yours to help ground her

“im sorry mija, im just stressed but this dress is the one. it took us long enough, huh?” she smiled softly

“yeah, but you look amazing mom”

“thank you y/n, for everything. now let’s get back home. your father and i need to host our practice dinner and i need you and alexis to pick up a few things for me while we’re out”

you groaned exaggeratedly “please don’t make me”

“y/n, you and your brother need to get along. come on, i’ll drop you off at home”

“he’s not my brother” you mumbled as the two of you left the dress boutique and headed home

your parents had already left for their dinner rehearsal

you hesitantly decided to look for alexis to mention the last minute errands you needed to get done. you took the time to actually get a good look at the house.

it really was huge and beautiful. it had way too many rooms and yet all you wanted to do was be in his room…

stop that. stop pacing around his bedroom door. stop wanting his attention.

you decided that you wanted to just avoid him and so you went downstairs to call a cab and get the errands done on your own but you paused as you walked into the dining room. all the last minute things were already there. he probably beat you to it.

so you shrugged and made your way to your room. you wanted to just clear your head so you got the idea of going swimming. you hadn’t even gotten the chance to use the really nice pool yet and so now was a good time.

you changed into a simple bikini and some flip flops. you went outside and closed the door behind you. you put down your towel and slid off your sandals.

you first just sat at the edge of the pool with your feet in the water and you thought about everything.

you were trying so hard to be happy or at least pretend for your mom but it was hard. alex made it hard.

you were so alone and it wasn’t easy at all. you couldn’t really remember a time in your life when you didn’t feel like this. but you had food in your belly and clothes on your back so you never complained. nobody knew how you felt.

you wanted a friend. that was all. but you were too shy, too quiet, and too scared.

so you were alone. sitting by the pool alone and you looked up at the sky after feeling droplets on your face. the sky was clear.

you touched your face and didn’t even realize that you were crying. tears were streaming down your face and yet, you were still alone.

you wiped your face and submerged yourself fully into the pool. you laid face up and floating peacefully in the water.

your mind couldn’t help but wander to the same dark thoughts you had been fighting for years.

what would it feel like to disappear?

“y/n… mind if i join you?”

you stood up in the water and quickly wiped away your running mascara from the crying. you looked over to see alex standing nearby with a soft smile on his face and you didn’t know if you could say no to him.

so you nodded and he joined you.

the two of you stood there in silence until alex spoke softly

“im sorry y/n. i didn’t mean to hurt you—“

before he could even finish apologizing, you were already sobbing in his chest and holding him tightly to you. you had held too much in and you were just drowning in your own feelings at this point.

“would you care if i disappeared? i mean… would anyone?” you said in a small voice

“don’t say that y/n. don’t ever say that”

and he held you until you had no more tears left to shed

#alex quackity #alexis quackity #quackity #quackity x reader #quackity fanfic #quackity x y/n

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