#Remote Area Medical

[svalleynow]

Free Two-Day Medical Clinic October 12 & 13 in Jasper

Remote Area Medical, a Knoxville-based nonprofit, will hold a free two-day clinic in Jasper, TN, from October 12 to 13. RAM offers free dental, vision, and medical services on a first-come, first-served basis. Due to time constraints, RAM asks that people be prepared to choose between dental or vision services. Medical services will be offered to every patient attending the clinic. The clinic…

[health-product-for-men]

Peace of Mind in Print: A Review of The Home Doctor

Living in a remote area, far from a hospital, has always made me prioritize self-reliance, especially when it comes to healthcare. That's why I decided to invest in "The Home Doctor" – a comprehensive medical guide specifically designed for home use. After a few months of browsing its pages and familiarizing myself with its contents, I can confidently say it's become a valuable addition to my household preparedness kit.

Empowering Knowledge for Everyday Ailments

"The Home Doctor" isn't a replacement for professional medical care. It is, however, a fantastic resource for handling common ailments and injuries at home. The book covers a wide range of topics, from treating cuts and scrapes to managing headaches, fevers, and even allergies. The clear instructions and illustrations make it easy to understand even complex medical procedures, giving me the confidence to handle minor emergencies until professional help arrives.

Beyond Band-Aids: Preparing for the Unexpected

What truly impressed me was the book's focus on preparedness for unforeseen circumstances. "The Home Doctor" includes sections on dealing with natural disasters, power outages, and even biological threats. It provides practical advice on creating a first-aid kit, stocking essential supplies, and even performing basic medical procedures in the absence of a doctor. This knowledge empowers me to feel more prepared for whatever situation may arise.

A User-Friendly Format for Easy Reference

The printed format of "The Home Doctor" is a major plus for me. Unlike online resources that require internet access, this book is always available, even during power outages. The clear layout, logical organization, and comprehensive index make it easy to find the information I need quickly, especially during stressful situations.

Focus on Natural Remedies and Self-Care

While "The Home Doctor" doesn't shy away from conventional medicine, it also emphasizes the importance of natural remedies and preventative self-care. The book includes information on using herbs, essential oils, and other natural remedies for various ailments. This holistic approach aligns perfectly with my belief in natural health practices.

Investing in Peace of Mind

"The Home Doctor" is more than just a medical guide; it's an investment in peace of mind. Knowing that I have access to this wealth of information allows me to feel more prepared and in control of my family's health, especially in situations where immediate medical attention might not be readily available.

Overall, "The Home Doctor" is a valuable resource for anyone looking to be more proactive about their health and well-being. It's a comprehensive guide that empowers you with knowledge and practical skills, all in a user-friendly format.

[diejager]

if you’re still writing for the monster 141, what about a bay hybrid reader, who is just on the edges on going into hibernation because the base is in a colder area/remote snowy location

I’m gonna assume you mean bear?

Cw: bear hybrid!readr, hibernation, binge eating, hoarding, tell me if I missed any.

Winter was creeping closer and closer by each day, your instinctual need to sleep away the cold calling to you louder than the prior days. There was a bone-deep exhaustion that clung to you, the heaviness that cold weather brought to you was a constant and nagging feeling that urged you deeper in the nest you’d built yourself in your dark room. Your curtains drawn, lights often closed and locks installed, you’d spent the weeks preparing, hoarding soft pillows, thick blankets and clothes from people you were familiar with. 

They were surprised when you brought it up, blinking tiredly and occasionally yawning in the afternoon, stumbling between everyone’s rooms with a small plea on the tip of your tongue. You took whatever they were willing to give you: a blanket from Price and Rudolfo, a shirt from König and Gaz, a jacket from Ghost and Horangi, and a pillow from Soap and Alejandro. As long as it smelled like them, a lingering reminder that you weren’t alone in your humid room, their musk grounding and safety. You wouldn’t be alone.

Price had known you were - like most bears - prone to hibernation, taking between one to three month of your year sleeping away the cold, sinking into your mountain of fabric and sleeping off the coldest months. Your time depended on the year, the warmer it was, the less you slept, and the colder it was, the longer you slept. It might’ve been a bother in people’s eyes - humans - but it was instinctual, a primal part of your brain that still clung to your ancestors who strayed from the path of being normal bears. You couldn’t ignore the pull, the call to sleep, it wasn’t possible for a bear like you, and you were fortunate to have such accommodating teammates.

You grew hungrier, your stomach becoming an endless pit, an abyss that kept taking dish after dish, stocking up in fat and calories that you’d burn during your sleep, keeping you sustained and alive without having to wake up. You ate whatever you that was within your reach, the cold bread, the warm milk, the leftover of two days ago or Soap’s surprisingly good cooking, nothing was safe when you were a big and grumpy and hungry bear near hibernation. Ever supportive and helpful, Soap and Alejandro would jump in to cook for you, hooking Gaz and Rudolfo into being their sous-chef whenever they were free. It was the delicious scent of home cooked and warm meals that brought you to the kitchen, if it wasn’t a call for fixing up someone, it was the smell of good food. 

You were ravenous, gulping down the many, many plates the duo - occasionally quartet - placed on the table, their chests puffed up pridefully at your quick eating, you were practically breathing them in. Your constant eating helped you pack some weight, your skin stretched to accommodate your growing amount of fat that would ultimately burn over the months. And when the day came, you were low on energy, grumpy and easy to anger, your patience running paper thin, bidding your goodbyes and see you soon, wrapping your arms around them and teasing them about missing you during your lockdown. 

You’d sleep through the cold winter months and wake up to a warmer and busier time, to a welcoming and excited team that had spent the better half of winter waiting impatiently for the TF’s medic to wake up.

Taglist: @craxy-person @crowbird @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @angelcakes-22 @ramadiiiisme @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @im-making-an-effort @love-dove-noora @jinxxangel13 @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @mul-pi @danielle143 @beau-min @makayla-666 @urfavsunkissedleo @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @luvecarson @petwifed @randominstake @heartelysia @jggykhug09090 @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @call-me-nyxx @sans-chara @cod-z @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @thigh-o-saur @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami

[fairy-writes]

can I request for Soshiro and Gen fanfic (separate) on the female reader who's a healer that is clearly active on the battlefield and when the kaiju noticed this they started to target her to prevent healing her allies?

Also, can I add about the reader's attitude? Her persona has a cold/quiet and stoic personality o⁠(⁠(⁠*⁠^⁠▽⁠^⁠*⁠)⁠)⁠o

DO NOT GO GENTLE INTO THAT GOOD NIGHT

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

__________________________________________________________________________

Fandom(s): Kaiju No. 8

Pairing(s): Narumi Gen x Reader

Hoshina Soshiro x Reader

Word Count: 1.1k

Genre(s)/Tag(s): Female!Reader, Defense Force!Reader, Doctor!Reader

Notes: I am doing my new HC style because there are multiple characters requested :)

This entails a few HCs and then a small blurb!

Also, Reader’s personality ended up a bit more self-deprecating than expected in Hoshina’s…

I ALSO REFUSE TO PUT GIFS OF NARUMI. I WILL BURN HIS ANIME DESIGN WITH FIRE

__________________________________________________________________________

Narumi Gen

At first, you didn’t notice. 

You were too busy applying a tourniquet to the leg of a fallen Defense Officer when the Yoju began to attack.

Luckily, the officer you were treating still had working arms and shot it down. 

But they only kept coming.

Soon, you were overwhelmed and had to retreat. 

You grab the straps of your fallen comrade and drag them under some rubble that’s standing precariously. 

It might fall on you, but it was better than nothing for the time being. 

You press your fingers to the communication earpiece nestled in your ear. 

“I need immediate evac in Sector Zulu now! The Yoju are mobilizing and targeting the medics!” You holler as another medic is swallowed whole by one of the bigger Yoju.

Was this the work of that one kaiju? Kaiju No. 9? 

You had no clue. But you couldn’t dwell on it right now. You had to survive. 

Gen is furious by the time he gets to the hospital. He pushes past nurses and doctors and patients until he makes it to the front desk and barks out your name to a startled receptionist. He was a sight for sore eyes, still in his combat uniform, covered in kaiju blood, and still hauling around his weapon. 

“She’s in the Intensive Care Unit. Hold on—Wait!” She calls as soon as he leaves, but he pays her no mind. 

He knew where you were now. He could find the specific room number when he got there. 

Only he didn’t need a room number because you met him in the hallways as soon as he pushed through the double doors.

“Gen?” You look confused, your right arm bandaged and in a sling, and a swath of bandages wrapped around your head. 

“What were you thinking?!” He snaps, and you scowl at that. 

“The Yoju attacked me. Not the other way around, dumbass.” You snap back, and he glares, but on the inside, he’s relieved. 

“Why are you up and moving anyway? You should be resting.” He says, taking your good arm and steering you to a stray gurney stored in the hallway. You shrug off his arm. 

“And leave my patients without care? No way. I’m fine.” You reply and try to get up, but all but fall over when he pushes you gently. 

“Clearly not.” He says and sets his bayonet to the side, propping it up against the wall and taking a seat next to you.

“What’s the diagnosis?” Gen asks eventually, and you wiggle the fingers in your cast. 

“Broken wrist in three places. A pretty nasty concussion. A couple of cracked ribs. Apparently, my heart stopped after our shelter collapsed.” You say coldly, matter-of-factly, as if it was a walk in the park and not the fact that you died. 

Gen remembered hearing in the com piece that your heart stopped. He remembered the officer you were attending to saying he was starting chest compressions after not finding a pulse. He remembered feeling his own heart had stopped when the officer claimed chest compressions weren’t working. 

Luckily, you were wearing one of your newly designed suits—the kind with remote-activated defibrillators in the chest area. It had to be activated three times before you began breathing again and your heart started again. 

But you were okay.

You were okay. You were alive. And that’s all Gen could ask for

Hoshina Soshiro

“WE NEED EVAC IMMEDIATELY! REPEAT WE NEED EVAC IMMEDIATELY! WE HAVE WOUNDED AND THE YOJU ARE TARGETING THE MEDICS!” You bellow into the receiver as you dodge under a swipe of the Yoju before you.

You stand and sprint, trying to lure the Yoju away from your wounded comrades. 

Better you die than them.

Your com crackles in your ear, and you hear your lover's voice calling your name in a calm panic. 

“Where are you?” Hoshina Soshiro demands as you heave and pant. Your suit is dangerously close to overheating, with you using the suit’s strength to help your fellow officers. 

“Sector Juliette heading northbound on 12th Street.” You wheeze and shriek as a blow crashes into your back, sending you flying into some shattered concrete. 

Your shoulder is dislocated. Your ribs are broken. It feels like your nose might be as well. 

“Hold out a little longer, my love. I’m almost there!” He pleads, and you turn on your back to see the Yoju looming over you. 

“I’m sorry, Soshiro…” You murmur. 

Oh well…

Better you die than them.

Just as you close your eyes, you hear the draw of a katana from its sheath. 

When you wake up, you feel someone’s hand holding your own. 

You turn—with some difficulty with the brace around your neck—to see Soshiro holding your hand in one hand, typing out a report on his phone with the other. 

“Soshi?” You rasp, and he looks up, an unreadable look on his face. 

“You’re awake.” He says, and you nod, wincing at the ache in your neck. He leans forward, still not letting go of your hand. “Careful, you got some nasty whiplash.” He says, and you wheeze out a laugh.

“I’m not surprised. I took a bad hit.” You say, and he scoffs. 

“I saw.” He replies and goes back to his report. 

It doesn’t take long after that for you to speak. 

“You’re mad at me.” Soshiro shakes his head at that, thumb pausing from where he was typing on the screen. Likely updating Captain Ashiro on your condition.

“I’m not mad. Just upset. You gave up.” He says, and you sigh, leaning back against your pillows. Luckily, your bed is propped up, so you don’t have to adjust it. 

“I have a duty to protect my comrades.” Soshiro grits his teeth. 

“That doesn’t mean you have to die to protect them. You’re a talented doctor; don’t waste that life of yours.” He pleads, opening his eyes to look at you desperately. 

The doctor comes in then, checks you over, and gives you your diagnosis. Whiplash—hence the neck brace—three broken ribs, a dislocated left arm, and a torn rotator cuff. 

“Do you have help at home? Given your skills, I assume you know how to take care of yourself, but it doesn’t hurt to have an extra set of hands.” The doctor says. You are about to shake your head when your lover pipes up.

“I’ll be helping.” He says firmly, leaving no room for you to argue. The doctor accepts this readily and nods, leaving the room with promises to return with discharge paperwork. 

“You don’t have to take care of me.” You say as soon as the door shuts, and Soshiro raises an eyebrow. 

“I’ll take care of you.” He repeats, and you hiss out a laugh.

“It’s rotten work.” At that, his grip tightens. 

“Not to me. Not if it’s you.”

[prentissmultiverse]

No Strings to Hold Us - part II

Weeks of avoidance and unspoken tension between you and Emily come to a head when the case takes a deadly turn. tw: mention of death, violence

You can read part I here

(words: 4410)

The weeks that followed your one night with Emily were a strange blur. She acted like nothing had happened—no lingering looks, no suggestive comments—as if she hadn’t unraveled you completely one night and then stitched herself back together before sunrise. It was all business as usual, as though she hadn’t pinned you against her bedroom door or whispered your name in a voice that still echoed in your mind when you least expected it. She was poised, professional, and utterly detached, and you played along, convincing yourself it didn’t matter. You’d agreed to leave it as a one-night stand, after all. Right?

You’d buried yourself in work, using every free moment to either assist Garcia with her endless data streams or pore over old case files that you could’ve sworn you’d memorized. Anything to keep your thoughts from wandering.

But late at night, when the bullpen emptied out and your mind was no longer distracted by the chaos of the job, the memories crept in. The way her lips felt against yours, the low timbre of her voice whispering things you hadn’t dared to repeat even to yourself… it all came rushing back. And just as quickly, you shoved it aside.

You were fine. This was fine. You could handle this.

It was a relief when a new case finally came in, promising to occupy every waking thought for the foreseeable future. The air in the briefing room was heavy as Emily stood at the head of the round table, commanding the team’s attention. She clicked a button on the remote, and the screen behind her lit up with five photos. Five women, each vibrant and full of life—until they weren’t. Their bodies had been found frozen solid on the outskirts of Anchorage, Alaska.

“The unsub has been active for just over six weeks,” Emily began, her voice steady and authoritative. “Five victims, all dumped along service roads leading into wooded areas. Preliminary forensics shows they were restrained for several days before being killed, and then… frozen.”

“Frozen?” Luke repeated, frowning.

Emily nodded. “The medical examiner’s report confirms they were kept in a freezer. The exact time hasn’t been figured out yet, but the marks on their bodies indicate prolonged exposure to sub-zero temperatures days or weeks prior to being dumped.”

Tara leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. “Freezing them could be a form of preservation,” she said thoughtfully. “He might be trying to keep them in a state he considers perfect or untouchable. It’s a form of control—maintaining his victims in a way that serves his needs, even after death.”

“And the dumpsites?” Rossi asked, gesturing toward the map on the screen. “Is there a pattern?”

Garcia’s voice chimed in; her tone uncharacteristically grim. “All the locations are secluded but within a two-mile radius of main roads. He’s careful to make sure the bodies are found, but he’s not exactly leaving a calling card.”

JJ nodded. “He might want them to be discovered but not immediately. It’s possible he’s testing something… maybe seeing how long it takes for someone to notice.”

The discussion continued, theories bouncing around the table as the team worked to piece together the unsub’s profile. You took notes diligently, your mind locked on the details. But then Emily licked her lips—a quick, absent gesture as she scanned her file—and your focus faltered.

It wasn’t the same as before. The maddening pull of desire had been replaced by something heavier, something that lodged itself in your chest and refused to leave. Every time her tongue darted out to wet her lips, your thoughts drifted. Not to the memory of her touch, but to the unspoken chasm between you. The wall she’d built, impenetrable and cold.

By the time the briefing ended, you were desperate for action—anything to shake the fog that clung to you. Emily’s voice cut through the lingering tension, sharp and decisive. “Wheels up in 30,” she said, and the team immediately dispersed to prepare for the flight to Anchorage.

You headed to your desk to grab your go-bag, the flurry of activity around you providing a welcome distraction. Tara caught your eye as she passed, giving you a small nod of reassurance. Across the bullpen, Emily moved with practiced efficiency, already coordinating with Garcia to ensure all the files and preliminary reports were ready to go. She didn’t look at you once, and you told yourself it didn’t matter.

As you shouldered your bag and prepared to head to the jet, JJ appeared at your desk, her expression concerned. “Hey, can I ask you something?” she said, leaning against the desk.

“Sure,” you replied, trying to sound casual.

She hesitated for a moment, her blue eyes scanning your face. “Is everything okay between you and Emily?”

The question caught you off guard, and you froze mid-motion. “Why do you ask?”

JJ tilted her head, giving you a knowing look. “Because you two have been acting… off. Like you’re avoiding each other. Did you have a fight or something?”

“No,” you said quickly, waving her off. “Nothing like that. We’re fine. It’s just… work stuff.”

She didn’t look convinced but didn’t press further. Instead, she added, “You know, Emily’s been through a lot over the years. She puts up walls, but it doesn’t mean she doesn’t care. Sometimes you just have to read between the lines.”

Her words lingered with you as you boarded the jet, stealing glances at Emily as she reviewed the case file with focused intensity. Whatever had passed between you that night was a mistake—wasn’t it? You tried to push it from your mind as the jet soared into the icy Alaskan night.

The next two days were grueling. The cold seeped into everything, a constant reminder of the urgency of the case. The unsub struck again the night the team landed; his latest victim found frozen near an abandoned logging road. Every piece of evidence pointed to a pattern—one that suggested he was escalating.

Your thoughts about Emily faded into the background, replaced by the singular focus of finding the unsub before he took another life. Two could play the game of emotional distance, and you buried yourself in the case with a determination that matched her own.

By the third day, the team had narrowed down his location to the outskirts of Anchorage. A secluded property with a dilapidated warehouse stood at the center of your search. The unsub had a clear pattern: he always kept one victim alive while dumping another. This meant there was still a chance to save the latest woman he’d taken.

You moved in with the team, your FBI vest strapped tightly over your jacket and your weapon drawn. The air was sharp and biting as you approached the warehouse, the snow crunching beneath your boots. The team split up to cover all exits, the tension palpable as you readied yourself to breach the door.

The chaos that followed was a whirlwind of sound and movement. Inside, the warehouse’s narrow hallways twisted like a labyrinth, their walls dimly lit by flickering, outdated bulbs. Every step you took was cautious but deliberate, your breath visible in the cold air as you methodically cleared one room after another.

The tension in the air was suffocating. Furniture was overturned, and remnants of the unsub’s deranged mind cluttered the spaces—newspapers with headlines about missing women, scattered tools, and an eerie silence that felt like it could snap at any second. Then you found it. The freezer room was at the end of a dark corridor, its door slightly ajar. A faint mist of cold air seeped from the opening, curling around your boots like a warning. The sight sent a chill down your spine that had nothing to do with the freezing temperature.

As you moved closer, gun drawn, the hair on the back of your neck prickled with unease. The thought struck you like ice—the missing woman might already be inside. You hesitated for only a moment before gripping the edge of the freezer door and pulling it open slightly wider. A rush of cold air hit your face, and you squinted into the mist, trying to make sense of the shapes inside. But before you could process anything, a sharp blow landed on the back of your head. Pain exploded through your skull, and the world tilted violently. You stumbled forward, falling hard onto the icy ground, your gun slipping from your grasp as darkness threatened to claim you.

Dazed and disoriented, you turned your head just enough to catch a glimpse of the unsub. He stood over you, his expression cold and detached as he muttered, “You shouldn’t have come here.”

The door slammed shut behind you with a deafening clang, the metallic sound echoing in your ears as the lock clicked into place. You instinctively reached for your communication device, pressing the button. “Rossi, Emily, anyone, I—” Static cut off your words, the thick insulation of the freezer walls rendering your headset useless.

The bluish light of the freezer surrounded you. You struggled to your feet, black edges creeping into your vision as you leaned heavily against the steel walls. Your hands fumbled for the latch, your breath visible in short, ragged bursts. Your head was hammering. You instinctively touched the back of your head where the blow hit you. When you pulled your hand away from your head, it was slick with blood.

Panic clawed at the edges of your mind as the realization set in—you were trapped, and no one knew where you were.

Desperation surged through you as you hammered against the door, your fists pounding on the icy steel with every ounce of strength you could muster. "Help!" you shouted, your voice hoarse and cracking from the cold. "Is anyone out there? Please!" The thick walls absorbed your cries, muffling them into the oppressive silence of the freezer. The metallic surface bit into your bare hands with every strike, the icy burn making you wince, but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t stop.

Your breaths came in shallow gasps, visible in the frigid air as your strength began to wane. The pain in your head pulsed in time with your frantic heartbeat, and your hands trembled as they slid down the unyielding surface of the door. Still, the silence remained, as relentless and unforgiving as the cold surrounding you.

Slowly, your legs gave out, and you sank onto the icy floor as your strength faded. In the corner of the freezer, a pale figure caught your eye—the unsub’s latest victim. Her lifeless, frozen body was propped against the wall, her glassy eyes staring unseeingly in your direction. The sight sent a fresh wave of horror through you, but your body was too drained to react.

Your bare hands, sticky with blood, trembled as you tried to draw them closer to your body, seeking any scrap of warmth. The blood had already dried in streaks, a chilling reminder of how long you’d been here. You curled in on yourself, every instinct screaming at you to preserve your dwindling heat, but the cold was unrelenting, seeping into your bones. Each passing minute sapped more of your energy, and a heavy drowsiness began to settle over you.

“Stay awake,” you whispered to yourself, your voice barely audible over the hum of the freezer’s compressor. Your eyelids grew heavier, and your mind fought a losing battle against the exhaustion that clawed at you.

The frozen woman’s empty eyes seemed to bore into you, a grim reminder of what awaited if you let yourself succumb. You clenched your fists, the movement sending sharp jolts of pain through your skull where you’d been struck. Your vision blurred, dark edges creeping closer with every passing second. You needed to stay awake. You needed to survive.

Inside the maze of hallways, the unsub bolted, his erratic footsteps echoing off the narrow walls as he searched for an escape. His chest heaved with exertion, and his head snapped back at every noise, panic twisting his features into a mask of desperation. He rounded a corner and skidded to a halt, his path blocked by Tara and Luke. Both agents stood firm, weapons raised and aimed directly at him.

“Freeze!” Luke barked, his voice sharp and authoritative.

The unsub hesitated, his eyes darting between them and the corridor behind him. Tara stepped closer, her steady aim and calm demeanor leaving no room for negotiation. “It’s over,” she said firmly. “Get on the ground. Now.”

Realizing there was no escape, the unsub dropped to his knees, raising his hands slowly above his head. Luke moved in swiftly, cuffing him as Tara kept her weapon trained on the man. The unsub smirked faintly but said nothing.

The sound of running footsteps signaled the arrival of Tyler and Rossi, both agents skidding to a stop beside Tara. “You got him?” Tyler asked, his voice taut with adrenaline.

Luke nodded as he tightened the cuffs. “Yeah, he’s secure.”

Tara’s gaze swept the area before landing on Rossi and Tyler. “Where’s Y/N?” she asked, concern creasing her brow.

Tyler answered grimly, “She split off to cover the north side. Haven’t heard from her since.”

Tara’s expression darkened as she keyed her radio. “Y/N, report in. Do you copy?”

Only static greeted them.

Emily’s voice crackled through the channel as she and JJ made their way through the hallways and down to their team. “What’s going on?” she demanded.

Rossi’s tone was grim as he explained. “Y/N’s M.I.A. She went to the north side and hasn’t checked in.”

Emily frowned, adjusting her earpiece. “Y/N, do you copy?”

Still nothing. Only the faint hiss of static filled the channel, and a cold knot of dread began to form in her chest.

“We’re heading to you now,” Emily said, urgency sharpening her tone. She glanced at JJ, who nodded, and the two agents picked up their pace.

Tara stepped forward, her gaze fixed on the unsub as she holstered her weapon. “Where is she?” she demanded, her voice low and dangerous.

The unsub’s smirk widened slightly, his icy eyes gleaming with malice. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” he sneered.

In that moment, Emily and JJ rounded the corner, their eyes locking onto the scene. Emily’s face was a mask of determination and barely contained anger as she strode toward the unsub. “If you’ve hurt her, I’ll make sure you regret it,” she said, her voice razor-sharp.

The unsub’s smirk grew wider, his voice dripping with mockery. “Her heart’s probably frozen solid by now. Stone cold, like the others. But if you hurry, you might just catch a glimpse of her before she’s gone.”

Emily’s jaw tightened as the unsub’s words sent a fresh wave of panic through her. She didn’t wait for the others. She darted away, her boots pounding against the floor as her mind raced. The thought of losing you—of not being there in time—was unbearable. She couldn’t shake the image of you alone and in danger, her heart twisting with guilt and fear. She’d ignored you for weeks, burying her feelings about that night. And now, the thought of never having the chance to make things right was too much to bear.

JJ called after her, “Emily, wait!” But Emily didn’t slow down, her focus singular as she sprinted toward the north corridor.

Behind her, the rest of the team followed, Tara and Luke keeping pace while Rossi and Tyler stayed back to secure the unsub and escort him out. Emily’s breaths came in sharp gasps, her pulse pounding in her ears as she closed in on the north side.

The cold was consuming. It seeped into your bones, coiling tightly around you like a predator, stripping you of the last vestiges of warmth. Your breaths were shallow, each one visible in the frigid air before dissipating into the oppressive silence of the freezer.

Your body trembled violently, the shaking now beyond your control. You pressed your back against the icy wall, seeking some form of support, but it offered no solace, only a harsher reminder of your dire situation.

Each breath felt heavier than the last. You tilted your head back, the bitter chill biting at the exposed skin of your neck. Your vision blurred, the room warping at the edges, and you blinked rapidly in an attempt to focus. Your limbs were growing sluggish, the once insistent ache in your fingers now replaced by a creeping numbness.

"Stay awake," you muttered to yourself again, your voice weak and cracking. It felt more like a desperate plea than an order. Your mind clung to the sound, hoping it could anchor you, but the pull of exhaustion was stronger.

Your eyelids fluttered, heavy with the weight of the cold. The world tilted as your upper body slid down the wall, your legs folding beneath you as you hit the icy floor. The impact sent a dull ache through your already numbed limbs, but it wasn’t enough to fully rouse you.

You tried to focus on the victim in the corner, her unseeing eyes locked onto yours. She seemed to be watching, waiting for you to join her in the frozen stillness. Her silent stare bore into your soul, and for a brief moment, you wondered if this was how she’d felt in her final moments—alone, cold, and desperate.

The frost crept further into your body, stealing the last remnants of feeling from your fingers and toes. Your thoughts began to slip, disjointed and slow, as if the cold had reached your mind. It was so tempting to let it take you, to surrender to the darkness.

Your head lolled to the side, and your vision dimmed further. The sound of your own heartbeat was a dull, erratic thud in your ears. You exhaled shakily, watching the vapor dissipate into the air, and let your eyes close.

Then, a noise.

A rattling sound, faint but distinct, pierced the silence. The freezer door screeched open, a flood of light and sound pouring in. You could feel the rush of warmer air hit your frozen skin like a shock, but your body remained numb, unresponsive. Heavy footsteps echoed against the steel walls, and then she was there.

“Y/N!” Emily’s voice was sharp, commanding, but trembling at the edges with barely contained fear. It cut through the fog in your mind, a lifeline in the freezing abyss. You wanted to answer, to let her know you were still there, but no sound came.

Her hands found you, gentle but firm, as she knelt beside you. “Stay with me, Y/N,” she pleaded, her voice softer now but no less urgent. She leaned closer, her warmth brushing against your frozen skin as her hands cupped your cheeks, tilting your face toward hers. “Open your eyes. Come on, look at me.”

Your eyelids fluttered weakly, your lashes barely parting. You caught a blur of her face—dark eyes filled with something raw, unguarded. She shook you lightly, her voice breaking. “That’s it. Just keep looking at me. Don’t close your eyes again. Do you hear me?”

She shifted, slipping out of her burgundy coat and draping it over your trembling frame. The heavy fabric smelled faintly of her—woodsy and warm, grounding you in a way you hadn’t expected. “You’re okay,” she murmured, more to herself than to you, as she worked quickly, wrapping the coat tighter around your body. “I’ve got you. You’re safe now.”

Her arms slid beneath you, one looping around your back, the other under your knees. The chill in your limbs dulled the sensation, but you felt the press of her strength as she lifted you effortlessly. Your smaller frame was no burden for her as she rose to her feet, holding you close against her chest.

“Y/N,” she whispered, her voice dropping to something soft and almost tender. “I’ve got you, sweetheart. You’re going to be fine. Just stay with me.”

Her warmth enveloped you, and though your body still refused to respond, your mind latched onto the sensation. It was a fragile comfort, like holding onto the edge of a cliff, but it was enough to keep you tethered.

As Emily carried you out of the freezer, the distant murmur of voices reached your ears. JJ, Tara, and Luke—calling out to Emily, asking questions—but their words blurred together, muffled and indistinct, like they were coming from underwater. None of it mattered.

All you could focus on was Emily.

Her voice, steady and constant, filled your senses. “You’re okay. Just keep breathing for me, alright? I need you to hang in there. We’re almost out.” Her hold on you was secure, protective, and you could feel the way her heartbeat thudded against your cheek where it pressed against her chest.

The cold still held you captive, your body a prison refusing to obey your mind’s desperate commands. Your fingers didn’t twitch; your lips wouldn’t move. It was as though you were trapped inside yourself, helpless.

Her voice grew sharper, tinged with hope. “I can feel you trying,” she murmured, her lips brushing the top of your head. “Come on, Y/N. Just a little more.”

And then, like a fragile thread snapping, your lips parted. Your voice was broken and weak, barely a whisper, but it was enough. “E…Em…ily…”

Emily froze for a split second, her dark eyes wide with relief as she looked down at you. “Yes,” she said quickly, her tone softening as she cradled you closer. “I’m here. I’ve got you. Just hold on for me, okay?”

Emily’s arms held you tightly as she moved with purpose, her every step swift and deliberate. You could feel the faint sway of her movements, her strength steady beneath you, but the cold clung to your body like an unrelenting shadow.

“Stay with me, Y/N,” she said, her voice firm, cutting through the fog creeping into your mind. Her breath ghosted against your forehead as she glanced down at you, her dark eyes filled with worry. “We’re almost there. You’re safe now.”

You tried to focus on her words, her warmth, anything that could keep you tethered to the present. But the exhaustion was like a siren’s call, pulling at you, tempting you to let go. Every breath was an effort, shallow and rasping, and your eyelids fluttered as the weight of the cold pressed down on you.

“Hey, no,” Emily said sharply, her voice a lifeline. “Keep those eyes open for me. Just a little longer.” She shifted you slightly in her arms, her burgundy coat cocooning you in its warmth as she quickened her pace. “You’re not allowed to give up on me, do you hear me? Not now, not ever.”

It was the desperation in her tone that struck you, even through the haze. It wasn’t the detached professionalism she’d shown you for weeks, the cool and distant demeanor she’d maintained since that night. No, this was different. This was Emily—unguarded, scared, and maybe just as broken as you felt.

The cold gripped you tighter, and as Emily carried you, her voice was a thread pulling you back from the abyss. But it was thin, so thin, and fraying with every second that passed. You tried to focus on her words, her warmth, the feeling of her arms wrapped around you, but your strength was slipping fast.

“Y/N, please,” she said again, and there was something raw in her voice now. Something breaking. Emily’s voice cracked as she spoke, her words stumbling out in a way you’d never heard before. “I’m not losing you. Do you hear me? You don’t get to leave. Not after… not after everything.”

It was the closest she’d come to admitting what you both knew but couldn’t say. For weeks, she’d avoided you. After that night in her house, when the world felt like it had shifted between you, she’d acted as though nothing had happened. She’d stayed professional, untouchable, and you’d mirrored her distance because it was the only way to keep yourself together. But that night had meant something. It had left marks you’d both ignored, pretending they didn’t exist.

But here, now, in her arms, all of that fell away. You could feel it in the way she held you, her grip too tight, her voice trembling despite her efforts to steady it. The walls you’d both built were gone, crumbling under the weight of the moment.

“You can do this, Y/N. You’re stronger than this. Just stay with me.”

You wanted to. God, you wanted to. But the tiredness was a force beyond anything you’d ever felt, a heavy, suffocating pull that dulled the edges of the world. Emily’s voice was still there, but it felt distant now, as though she was speaking through layers of cotton.

Voices echoed faintly around you.

“Emily, over here!” JJ’s voice cut through the haze, urgent and close.

“She’s freezing,” Emily snapped, her tone laced with both authority and fear. “We need to get her warm. Now.”

Tara’s voice came next, clear and calm but tense. “Notify the EMTs—she’s hypothermic and losing consciousness.”

The words registered faintly in your mind, but their meaning slipped through your grasp. You tried to fight the pull of the darkness creeping in at the edges of your vision, but it was like trying to hold onto water with your bare hands.

Emily’s voice was the last thing you clung to. “I’ve got you. I’m not letting you go.”

But her words, too, began to lose their grip on your mind. The warmth of her body against the cold pressing in from all sides blurred together, indistinguishable. The world grew softer, dimmer, until finally, you couldn’t hold on any longer.

The darkness welcomed you, silent and all-encompassing, as the last of Emily’s voice faded into nothingness...

to be continued...

[someone-will-remember-us]

Is Lily Phillips, the young woman who slept with 101 men in 24 hours and now plans to do the same with 1,000, a vulnerable victim of exploitation? Or is she a free agent, making her own choices about her body and what to do with it?

I don’t think the answer to this is remotely complicated. Sure, it is possible to claim that unless Phillips describes herself as a victim, she cannot be one. It’s possible to claim that if feminists fought for a woman’s right to make her own choices, they cannot criticise this one. It’s possible to claim that anyone expressing pity for Phillips is judgemental, “whorephobic”, a dried-up old prude. It’s possible to claim all of these things, but none of that changes what we can all see right in front of us.  

As Julie Bindel has written, “no woman has a fantasy to end up with the type of injuries that will occur from such extreme activities”. One does not have to have any particular expertise in trauma, sexual abuse or disassociation to recognise self-harming behaviour. While false consciousness can be a tricky area for feminists — how close is the protective “you don’t want this really” to the patriarchal “you don’t know your own mind and have no desires of your own”? — there are times when the damage is much too obvious to leave any room for doubt. I cannot look at clips of Phillips in the immediate aftermath of what she “consented” to and think “yes, that woman is fine”. To be able to do so would take some effort. Indeed, I think you’d have to train yourself. 

What worries me in the case of Phillips — and far more broadly, in some branches of feminism and leftist politics as a whole — is that this training has begun to be seen as a virtue. Closing off feelings of compassion has become a way of managing the disconnect between #BeKind, right-side-of-history sloganeering and the abject cruelties of “progressive” industries: the sex trade, commercial surrogacy, “gender-affirming” care. Can’t cope with the cognitive dissonance that comes from witnessing pain caused by your side’s definition of freedom? Then learn not to see it. Learn not to feel. Teach yourself to regard this very feeling as a mark of moral immaturity. 

As I’ve been exploring in my book (Un)kind, there’s an area of “progressive” thought which prides itself on not feeling pity or compassion for any victim of sexual, medical or reproductive exploitation about whom it can be said “but it was a choice”. Even though this flies in the face of what feminists (and others) have long argued about the nature of power and coercion, there are certain choices — frequently ones relating to the bodies of women or children — which get placed in some magical, depoliticised zone. Thereafter anyone who might have a natural, human reaction to another person hurting themselves — at least for “liberatory” reasons — can be dismissed as the possessor of an unsophisticated, lower-order moral sensibility. To their “progressive” betters, feeling sad for the likes of Lily Phillips is all a bit knee-jerk, a bit vulgar, a bit “won’t somebody please think of the children” conservative. 

If you want to demonstrate your superior moral instincts, you must develop the capacity to switch your empathy on and off — off when it comes to the boring, obvious stuff (say, women who are selling their babies or demanding to have their breasts cut off), and on for the more “exciting”, challenging subjects (say, terrorists or sexual abusers threatened by the “carceral state”). Why clutch your pearls over migrant women in mega-brothels when you can be out there demanding restorative justice for rapists?

There is something deeply inhumane about this. It matters to tune into that instant awareness that another person is in pain, even if that person is denying it. It matters to know that some actions are wrong, coercive, abusive, even if the individual who is at the heart of them makes no complaint. I am not saying that “responding” is the be all and end all. The excuses other people make to ignore another person’s suffering can often be the same ones the sufferer herself makes in order to cope with her pain. When no other exit seems possible, “I chose this — I wanted it” can seem like the only way of maintaining dignity. That doesn’t mean everyone else has to buy it, though it does make challenging it fraught.

Thinking about Lily Phillips has also set me thinking about the actor Elliot Page. You may notice that I don’t use Page’s “old” name – the “dead name” — as that would be deemed unkind and dehumanising, not least by those currently cheering on Page’s supposed transition to living his best life as a man. I don’t think I’m alone in looking at Page and seeing someone in tremendous pain, with a history of abuse, taking it out on a body that was never, ever to blame. I hesitate to write more because, well, it’s done now. The same can be said when I see images of teenage females who have had “top surgery” or women who claim to be perfectly happy to indulge the abuse fantasies of male partners or actresses who’ve starved themselves to next to nothing. What’s there to say? It’s done now. They’re even smiling. Why take from these women the stories that they need in order to believe this was what they wanted, and that there was never any other way? Likewise, why say anything about Lily Phillips? Why not let her get on with the 1,000 man challenge and if it appals you, don’t think about it? 

Because this is how we learn to approve atrocities. Even if we cannot save individuals, it’s essential that we remain sensitive to unspoken pain. It’s a pre-requisite to creating the world in which “choices” which are no choices at all never have to be made. Silence isn’t virtuous, even if it has been repackaged as respecting the autonomy of others. We know what’s before our own eyes. We mustn’t ever learn not to see it.

(archive)

[romcomxdd]

AU where Mav n Ice managed to convince Bradley not to join the Navy.

(stick with me there’s hangster in here i promise-)

Instead of pulling Bradley’s papers, Mav and Ice sat down with Bradley and explained his mother’s wishes and their concerns. Really, they just had an adult conversation about it. Of course, Bradley was pissed, but more so at his mum than Maverick or Ice. Eventually he agreed, much to the older men’s relief, though Mav did feel a bit guilty about it. He knew Goose would have loved to see his son take after him.

Bradley took a few weeks to explore some other career options, he knew he still wanted to fly in some capacity. With his dads all being pilots, he’d had plenty of off the book lessons from them and all his honorary uncles. He had a knack for it. And he knew he wanted to help people. He had volunteered at his local fire-station for a few years and had acquired his basic first aid qualifications through that. But beyond that, he was lost.

Until he heard about Wilderness EMT’s. It was at at a careers expo Ice had dragged him along to after school and he really didn’t want to be there.

They wandered the expo for a while, until the first responders area caught his eye. Bradley looked through the police and fire rescue stalls first, took some pamphlets and asked a few questions, but nothing really struck him.

As Ice wandered off to look at the Navy section out of curiosity, Bradley lined up to look at the Paramedics stall. As he talked to the lady at the front for a bit, they got onto the topic of the specifics of her career. Before she had taken a job in recruitment, she had been a Wilderness EMT, basically a branch on paramedics where she was trained in search and rescue, providing medical aid to remote areas. This immediately sparked Bradley’s interest, it had the adrenaline he had been looking for, all whilst making a real difference for real people.

By the time Ice had returned, he had quizzed the lady for almost an hour and to say that he was excited was an understatement. The teen was practically bouncing out of his seat on the drive home.

‘I just need to get my general EMT certification, then do a wilderness specific training course as the basics.’ Bradley was grinning ear from ear. ‘Then from there I can do swift water, high angle rescue training and disaster response training. And a bunch of other short courses- but I can do those quickly- And that’s not even the best part!’

Ice bit his lip and kept quiet. He was happy for Bradley, of course, it was nice to see him so excited about something, but this sounded dangerous. It wasn’t the Navy, but still.

‘She said I can finish getting my pilots license and use that for search and rescue. And if I can get my helicopter license I can still fly!’ He grinned. ‘And it’s not gonna be dangerous like your job, but it’s still so cool.’

Ice nodded, still worried, but Bradley seemed serious about this. They’d already stopped him from one career opportunity, if they told him he couldn’t do this, Bradley may never talk to them again.

And as it turned out, he was dead serious about it. Within three years, Bradley had flown through his Paramedics degree, and got a job as a regular EMT. Whilst he worked, he continued with his helicopter license, and began ticking off the required courses. Another two years later, he was a fully qualified Wilderness EMT.

It had taken a while for Mav to get on board with the idea, but after seeing the fufillment in Bradley’s face when he came home after saving a life, he could help the pride that flowed through him. Goose would have been over the moon.

Bradley quickly excelled at his job, showing just how disciplined he was, both in the field and with the patients. His bedside manner was impeccable and had an incredibly cool head under pressure. He progressed fast, becoming a team leader in no time. There wasn’t as much room for advancement as there was in the Navy, but Bradley did what he could.

He loved his job and though it had one of the highest burnout rates in the country, he couldn’t see himself quitting anytime soon. He lived for the adrenaline of his work. Every day was different, he could be providing help to flooded communities, or hiking mountains in search of a missing person. It could be anything from pulling someone from an avalanche, or airlifting someone who’d twisted an ankle and didn’t feel like walking out.

And the sense of satisfaction he got after saving a life. Made him feel like he was in control. Like he could make a meaningful difference in someone’s life by getting them home safe.

Of course there were hard days. When someone died in transit, or they just couldn’t get them out in time. When their missing person just didn’t turn up. It could be traumatising, but he made sure to talk with Ice and Mav about it, or his work friends, there were so many people around him who knew how to cope. He figured it out pretty fast.

One day Bradley’s team got called to a pretty notable rescue. An F18 had gone into a flatspin during training somewhere over a mountain and the pilot had ejected. A pilot by the name of Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin. Hangman had ejected safely, but the descent through the trees had fucked up his ankle, and he couldn’t walk.

The Navy’s equipment hadn’t been advanced enough, so they had called on the WEMT’s, whom for this kinda mission was their bread and butter. (shush i’m taking creative liberties)

They found him quickly and Bradley was the one to cut him out of his parachute and bring him up to the helicopter. Just imagine Jake being half unconscious as a handsome moustachioed angel leans over him and tells him everything’s gonna be alright.

The ride back included an ever exasperated Bradley and a lovestruck delirious Hangman who had decidedly not injured his mouth and would not shut up. As they reached the hospital, Jake asked him out. Bradley surprised even himself by agreeing to it, he hadn’t been in a serious relationship in years, it could be nice to get back out there.

They grew close, fast. Though Bradley never explained why he knew so much about Jake’s job. Not until Jake was finally invited around to ‘meet the parents’. Just imagine his surprise when he walks into the Admiral Kazansky’s home, who is apparently married to his instructor. Bradley thought the look on his face was hilarious and he would bring up the moment at any opportunity for the next few years.

[fairymischief]

Nearly all men (and far too many male-apologist women) have no empathy for the safety concerns of other women. If I say that I don't feel safe hiking in remote areas alone, or walking through certain areas of the city at night, I'm told I'm being paranoid and that it's "no way to live." I'm told that my fears are overblown.

And then if I'm actually attacked, would they finally agree with me? Nope! They'd say, "Oh but that was one wacko, you can't judge all men by the actions of one guy." We know this, because that's what they say any time a woman is attacked.

If I go on to point out that it's not just random strangers, that I and many women I know have been abused in relationships by men we actually thought we knew pretty well, they say, "Hey that's your fault, you should've picked better."

...No matter WHAT men do, it's never their fault, it's never all men, just keep giving them a chance, just keep putting your physical safety at risk, if anything happens it's our fault because we should've been more discerning, etc.

And how convenient that they can gamble so recklessly with MY physical safety; If he rapes me, are they going to carry that pregnancy for me? If he assaults me, are they going to pay my medical bills and go through the physical and psychological healing process for me? If he hurts me so badly that I become permanently paralyzed, are they going to do a miraculous healing or wait on me hand and foot for the rest of my life? If he kills me, are they going to bring me back to life?

Gee, it almost sounds like I would be the one having to deal with all the consequences of not protecting myself if something happened to me, yet these other people are very eager to risk my safety and potentially my LIFE.

Ladies, never be gaslit into thinking you're paranoid for wanting to protect yourself. The people who say this to you do not care about you, often wouldn't lift a finger to help you if the unthinkable happened, and will never change their minds about the way men are.

[shadowmaat]

Jedi Service Corps

The Legends-fueled propaganda of "bad students get sent to the Agricorp/Services" has always bothered me. First of all, forcing kids into a career not of their choosing isn't the best way to encourage them to perform well.

The Services in general seem to get a bad rap, and TBH it's kind of bizarre to assume that every kid who winds up being taken in by the Jedi wants to grow up to be a cop. LOL!

There is so much untapped potential being ignored, and even within the four pseudo-canon branches there's a lot to explore.

Agriculture. Farmers Without Borders. LOL! It isn't just about growing plants, it's about analyzing trends, understanding ecosystems, geology, climatology, politics, etc. There's mechanical engineering so you know how to fix the machines that do the hardest labor (often illegally, given corporate software locks and so forth). Probably a lot of fiddly stuff with plant genetics, too, given similar issues with seed corporations.

Being Jedi, I'm sure they're also aware of the need to include "ornamental" plants to help with the emotional welfare of hurting/devastated populations.

Education. This field must be fucking wild. Sure, you have your future creche masters and archivists, but I imagine there are those who do public outreach, too, and go to schools to teach kids about what the Jedi do beyond waving laser swords. There's probably also a need for teachers in isolated/rural areas to help with basic things like reading, writing, and maths. Ditto areas devastated by wars and natural disasters, where kids need a safe distraction from trauma. I bet Educorp and Agricorp team up more often than people might think.

There's also the sheer variety of topics. Even something basic like history will have a wide net. Galactic history, region-specific, planetary, etc. And then there's the arts. Music, singing, dance, physical media, holo media, theatre, and so much more. There will be differences between species, understanding what they need to know, how they learn best, and what their aging process is like. Teachers to cover the full range of mortal maturity, from teaching toddlers to old-timers. And don't get me started on teaching "forbidden" topics in repressive communities.

Medical. LOL. Every. Single. Species. And often subtypes between them. So many specialists needed. And again, you probably have a number that specialize in helping in disaster areas. Hello, Educorp, let's help teach these people how to best care for themselves. Maybe Agricorp can help with showing folks how to purify their air and water. There must be SO many diseases, some of which have inoculations and so that don't. And again, figuring ways to smuggle medicine and supplies to those who need it despite the extortionist rates corporations charge. Repairing faulty equipment, finding work-arounds when the parts aren't there. Triage. Using the Force to help heal is all well and good, but sometimes they still have to get hands-on.

Even with non-emergency stuff, I imagine they're still kept busy. The idea of a Jedi "country doctor" settled in some remote area sounds delightful. Communities that get "lost" in the shuffle or otherwise overlooked. Veterinary medicine as a sub-specialty.

Jedi having a special "knack" for determining what's wrong with someone, finding early warning signs before it's too late, etc. Comforting the dying. Comforting the survivors. ALL the mental health stuff and neurodivergence.

Exploration. Jedi Starfleet. LOL! It isn't all about discovering new worlds, though. Sometimes it's rediscovering planets and cultures that have been forgotten. Charting new hyperlane routes and hoping the end doesn't pop you out in the middle of a star.

I betcha you could fold so many things into this one. Botany. Archaeology. Xenoanthropology. Medicine, of course, since new worlds/people means new poisons, venoms, and diseases. New or ancient languages? It'd help to have someone around who could work on translating. Diplomats to help you talk to people. Geologists. Zoologists. A bit of everything.

Sure, there'd be room for solo missions, but I imagine there'd be bigger ships that they'd launch from. A place to come back to so the brains can pore over everything you brought back and see what they can determine from it. And big ships (or any ships really) means pilots, engineers, general crew, logistics, and all those fun things.

Anyway, I can see plenty of room for additional corps, too, but of the ones that get mentioned in Legends there's still a huge playing field.

[svalleynow]

Free RAM Healthcare Clinic Coming to Jasper in October to Address Limited Access to Care

Free RAM Healthcare Clinic Coming to Jasper in October to Address Limited Access to Care...

JASPER, Tenn. – In many parts of the United States, for millions of Americans, access to basic healthcare is a challenge at best and an impossibility at worst. Due to geographic, economic, or cultural barriers, much of the U.S. population is uninsured or underinsured. Remote Area Medical (RAM) is stepping in to address this issue by offering a free, comprehensive healthcare clinic at Jasper…

[allthebrazilianpolitics]

Floods in southern Brazil kill at least 75 people over 7 days

Massive floods in Brazil's southern Rio Grande do Sul state have killed at least 75 people over the last seven days, and another 103 were reported missing, local authorities said Sunday.

At least 155 people were injured, while damage from the rains forced more than 88,000 people from their homes. Approximately 16,000 took refuge in schools, gymnasiums and other temporary shelters.

The floods left a wake of devastation, including landslides, washed-out roads and collapsed bridges across the state. Operators reported electricity and communications cuts. More than 800,000 people are without a water supply, according to the civil defense agency, which cited figures from water company Corsan.

A rescue team pulled an elderly man in serious medical condition into a helicopter from a remote area in the Bento Gonçalves municipality, according to footage from military firefighters. Torrents of brown water poured over a nearby dam.

Continue reading.

[paradiseprincesss]

forever boy | jonathan crane

umm i lowkey did not want to post this because i feel like it's not eating but i hope u guys like thissssss :')

summary: you and jonathan are close friends — he was your brothers best friend so it was bound to happen, after all. however, all you want is to be more than just friends. one night, after a particularly bad date, you drunkenly call jonathan asking him to come pick you up — and you accidentally confess your feelings while you're at it too.

warnings: unspecified age gap (reader is early 20's, jonathan is early 30's), sort of friends to lovers, smut, p in v, oral (f!receiving), general sexual content ahead lol, mdni 18+ only

word count: 3.4k

masterlist

"i don't think i've ever seen you stay with a guy for more than six months." jonathan pointed out teasingly as the two of you sat on his couch alone in his apartment, watching some random horror movie you chose to put on.

"very funny, jonathan." you say sarcastically, reaching over to grab the remote so you could pause the movie. "that doesn't make me feel any better, just so you know."

"you said you broke up with him because you don't care about him." jonathan shrugged. "psychologically speaking, have you ever considered that you may have an avoidant—"

"oh please," you scoffed, "do not turn this into one of your therapy sessions. psychoanalyze me all you want, but i guarantee you'll be dissappointed."

"i feel like you have a phobia of commitment." he says, sighing as he looked at you through his glasses.

"no, it's not that. it's just — nobody ever kept my attention." you explain, causing jonathan to raise a brow. "they just don't know how to make me...happy."

"i see," he said softly, "have you ever considered that, i don't know, maybe your going for the wrong type of guys?"

"what do you know about love? you're married to your job." you scoff, causing jonathan to chuckle softly.

"fair point," he nods, "but i do happen to study human psychology and behavioural patterns for a living."

recently, you had been spending a lot of time with your brothers best friend — doctor jonathan crane. he'd known jonathan for a good few years, the two of them got along well as they'd met at a conference for medical students when both of them were still in gotham's medical schooling program.

your brother was ten years older than you, meaning that you were currently still in university but your brother had built up a successful career for himself by now. of course, jonathan was just as, if not, more successful, with his name plastered in every article and paper in gotham about the remarkable work he was doing at arkham asylum.

you'd met jonathan while you were still in high school, but you only started to get close with him during your first year of university. one evening, you'd gotten a little too drunk at a frat party with your friends, and ended up calling your brother to come pick you up in your drunken state.

unfortunately, he had informed you that he was just swamped at work — but he would get his best friend, jonathan, to do him a favour and pick you up since he only lived about ten minutes away from the area you were partying at.

when he picked you up, all you could focus on was how handsome he was — why hadn't you noticed this before? not to mention his intoxicatingly blue eyes; how could someone have eyes that blue?!

after that — the two of you had become quite close. suddenly, you were tagging along if your brother and jonathan had plans, and you were also hanging out with jonathan when your brother wasn't around as well.

something just clicked when you two were together, despite him being nearly a decade older than you. the two of you would frequently make plans to meet up, whether that was to get food together or watch movies snuggled up on the couch of his apartment.

just as friends though, of course — he was your brothers best friend. plus, you were sure that jonathan would never see you in that way.

and since you'd been friends for a minute, he knew just what you liked; what made you smile. he'd even see boys come and go, he knew what made you cry. though he'd never say it aloud — he wanted to be the one to treat you right.

"what time is it?" you asked.

jonathan checked his watch, "quarter to seven." he replied, making you groan as you got up from his couch. "where are you going?"

"home," you sighed, "i have a date tonight — nate's picking me up at nine."

"you just broke up with your boyfriend two weeks ago, and you have a date already?" he asked with surprise, and you rolled your eyes as he got up with you.

"yes, so what? i told you that two month relationship meant nothing to me anyway." you shrugged, and jonathan looked at you with concern as he grabbed his car keys off the kitchen counter. "spare me the judgement please, jonathan."

jonathan always drove you — even though you had your own license and car, he insisted. "i'm not judging you, i just don't want you to get hurt." he said with a sigh, and for a moment, he almost sounded disappointed.

"i wont." you assured him as the two of you drove back to your home. since you were still in university, you lived at home with your parents, and it had become a routine. he'd pick you up, and sometimes you'd even stay overnight at his place — as if friends do that.

"okay, well," he said with a sigh, parking on your driveway, "just promise me you'll call me if you need anything."

"i will. i know you're working an overnight shift so i can just call my brother—"

"just call me, i'll answer." he said softly.

when jonathan told you that, you felt your cheeks heat up and your heart start to beat rapidly. you smile and nod, waving goodbye as he drove off, leaving you at home again. as you rushed upstairs to start getting ready for your date — a feeling of overwhelming dread consumed you.

you were always defensive and deflective anytime anyone asked about your commitment issues. you knew the root cause: it was jonathan. the reason nobody could ever keep your attention was because you were already too focused on someone else — your brothers best friend.

you went on date after date, dated guy after guy, only to break their hearts months (and sometimes even just weeks) later. you were a professional at delivering the whole "it's not you, it's me" speech. you were sure that at some point, someone would help you get over jonathan.

but nobody ever did.

however, that all changed after your date with some guy named nate from your class had gone poorly. he was very clearly into you, however you on the other hand, were not into him at all. your mind was doing that thing again.

you know, the thing where your thoughts were consumed with jonathan and jonathan only — thoughts of what he was doing right now. how was work going for him? your mind was spinning as you daydreamed what it would be like to be the one he'd come home to every night, after a hard day.

"did you hear what i asked?" nate's voice cut through your thoughts, and you looked up at him as you mindlessly swished the clear liquor in your martini glass.

"oh, m'sorry — no." you say in a bored manner, making no attempt to conceal your disinterest.

"whatever," nate sighed, clearly frustrated with your lack of interest for the last hour over drinks, "enjoy your night, i guess."

he places a fifty on the bar top, grabbing his phone and wallet before heading out of the bar you were in. you made no attempt to stop him, and instead, you order another martini for yourself as you let the liquor stir inside of you.

tonight, you felt like you'd hit a dead end. when were you going to learn that this would never work? when would you come to terms with the fact that another guy wouldn't fill the jonathan shaped void in your heart?

reaching into your purse, you grab your phone and put it up to your ear as you heard the dial tone.

"hello?" jonathan's voice spoke from the other end of the line.

"jonathan, hey," you said softly, "i'm sorry for calling, i know you're busy at work right now—"

"do you need me to come pick you up?" he asked, interjecting you and your tipsy apology.

"i-i can call my brother, it's fine. i don't even know why i called—" you said, suddenly feeling very choked up.

jonathan's tone went from casual to concerned in a matter of seconds as he heard you sniffling from the other end of the line. "are you okay? where are you? i'm leaving right now."

maybe it was the gin or maybe it was the harboured feelings you'd been denying for the last year — perhaps both — but all you wanted to do was drunkenly cry and confess the way you felt for him.

screw being just friends, right?

after telling jonathan the address, you let the liquor do the talking. "jonathan?" you asked, to which he hummed over the line, "i just — i have feelings for you."

as you let out your slightly drunken confession, you hang up the phone before he had a chance to respond, throwing back the rest of your martini as you made your way outside. the weather in gotham tonight was miserable, rain pouring down heavily as the night sky was glum.

this was not your best moment — but when jonathan heard your little confession, his cold heart melted a little. even if it took a little liquid courage to get there, then so be it — he'd finally got conformation that you felt the same.

you weren't sure how long you were stood outside in the parking lot of the bar, letting the rain pour down on you dramatically, but you started to shiver. of course you did — you were in heels and a dress, and now, you were soaked from head to toe.

suddenly, you heard your name being called out and you looked to your left to see a familiar car parked, with a familiar man in a suit and glasses rushing over to you. "what are you doing out here? it's pouring." jonathan said with concern, taking his suit jacket off and immediately placing it around you. "come on, i'll take you back to my place — i took the night off of work."

"why?" you ask suddenly, making jonathan raise a brow.

"what do you mean why? just — get in the car, it's pouring." he asked with confusion, but you continued to argue.

"how long are you going to keep pretending were just friends?" you choke back a sob, and he looks at you with concern once more. "friends don't — fuck, friends don't do what we do!"

"how drunk are you?"

"i'm not even that drunk!" you exasperate, "i just wanted an excuse to call you!"

"of course i don't think of you as a friend!" he exclaimed, "but you're out with a new guy every month!"

"because i was scared of telling you how i felt. i only ever wanted you!" you exclaimed back, tears streaming down your face as you were both intoxicated and vulnerable.

as soon as he noticed your tears, he stepped closer to you in the pouring rain, letting it soak you both. his hand suddenly reached up to cup your face gently, "why on earth wouldn't you just tell me?"

"you're my brothers best friend. and were friends, i just figured—"

"what if i don't want to be just friends?" he asked as you blinked your tears away. "haven't you noticed the way i look at you whenever you're around? the way i would drop anything to be there for you, no questions asked?"

everything was happening so fast, from your drunk confession to letting out a year of pent-up emotions — but it didn't matter anymore. you'd fallen for him and now, it was clear that he had fallen for you too.

"then fuck being just friends." you whispered.

within seconds, his lips came crashing down on yours as the gotham rain poured down on the both of you in the parking lot. alcohol was coursing through your veins, but now, so was adrenaline. you weren't sure how it all happened — but in the midst of a big, blurry mess, you ended up in jonthan's bed sharing sloppy, hungry kisses together.

his touch was gentle — loving — and you melted into it. carefully, he slipped your soaking dress off, and you tried not to cower under his gaze. those blue eyes of his had such an effect on you, and he smiled softly as he tried to ease your nerves.

"we don't have to do this — just tell me to stop and we can." he whispered lovingly, gently playing with your hair. "i don't want you to feel pressured since you've been drinking."

"i want to do this jonathan," you insisted, feeling a cocktail of emotions bubbling all at once, "i just really care about you. about us — i don't want to...screw things up between you and me."

"i know," he whispered, "but i promise, nothing will change between us—"

"i've had feelings for you for a long time." you said suddenly. "if we do this, i need to know you're serious."

he hummed softly in acknowledgement and placed a soft kiss on your lips. "ever since last year, when we started to hangout alone. just us..." he trailed off, admiring every detail of your pretty face. "i couldn't stop myself from falling for you."

"god, jonathan. you're such a sappy romantic deep down." you teased lightly, making him smile. "and all this time i thought you were in love with your job."

"well that," he said softly, "but i fell in love with you too."

your breath got caught in your throat as the words fell from his lips. not to mention your heart started to race about a million miles a minute. all this time you'd been harbouring your feelings for jonathan — he'd felt the same.

"i-i fell in love with you too," you confess, rambling on innocently, "s-sorry, i feel like i'm making things so awkward—"

he cuts you off with a kiss, his hands now resting on your hips as his thumbs started to rub soothing circles onto your skin. "relax, sweetheart," he whispered, "just lay back for me. let me show you how much i love you."

slowly, he started to pepper kisses down your stomach and thighs, making you squirm a little under his feather light touch. his hands came to paw at the waistband of your underwear, and if you weren't red in the face before — you definitely were now.

"are you comfortable?" jonathan asked softly, his icy blue eyes piercing through yours as he looked up at you from between your thighs. "is this okay?"

the sight was driving you to the brink of insanity, and with a desperate nod, you look down at him nervously. "y-yeah, just a little nervous." you admitted with honesty.

"have you ever...?" he raised a brow, his breathing slightly ragged.

"y-yeah, no i have before," you say as your heart raced, "i-it's just — it's you."

"what does that mean?"

"you...make me nervous." you say with pink cheeks, nervously giggling as his fingers toyed with the lace of your panties.

"like i said before," his voice dropped several octaves as he slid your underwear down your legs, "let me ease your nerves, darling."

you barely had a chance to react before his hands were gripping at your thighs, and his tongue was licking a fat stripe up your soaked cunt. your head fell back onto the pillows as every pent up anxious thought suddenly left your body, the only thing coming out of your mouth being breathless moans.

as your eyes rolled into the back of your head, he ate you out like his life depended on it — the man was gifted with the knowledge of anatomy, after all. he knew a few things.

his tongue continued to lick all around your dripping folds, lapping up your arousal as you fell apart from his touch. as he took your clit into his mouth, you let out a strangled moan. you could feel him smirk against your cunt when you moaned — which turned you on more if that was even possible.

"j-jonathan," you moaned feverishly, "i-i'm so close—"

"yeah, are you?" he asked with a muffled voice, face still buried in your cunt, "come on, darling, let me taste all of you."

as he worked his skillful tongue in your hole, your back arched and his name started to fall from your lips over and over again like a chant. you swore you started to see stars from the way he was eating you out, devouring your body as if you were something to be cherished. to be worshipped.

as you came on his tongue, jonathan lapped up every last drop of you, sparing no mercy as he continued to lick every part of your pussy even after you'd came.

"s'too much," you whined, "but i need you inside of me, jon."

he finally pulled away from your puffy, needy little hole, wiping his lips and chin with his suit sleeve. he tossed his suit jacket onto the floor in a rush, and you were holding back moans as you watched him undress.

it felt like an eternity (forty-five whole seconds), but he got undressed as he positioned himself between your spread legs. how's that supposed to fit?! you thought to yourself, watching in awe as his thick cock leaked pre cum from the tip.

"take a picture, it'll last longer." he teased, causing you to scoff.

"shut up, i didn't think you'd be...so b-big." you managed to choke out, cheeks burning.

"so, what i'm hearing is that you've thought about us having sex before."

"oh my god, shut — mmph!" as you were about to dish out something back, he pushed his throbbing cock into your cunt without warning, catching you off guard as he split you in two.

"you were saying?" he cooed mockingly, moving his hips gently as you adjusted to his size.

"mm, fuuuck—" you moaned, unable to comprehend his teasing as he fucked you deliciously with his fat cock.

"awe, how cute," he cooed, "you're already cockdrunk. what a needy little thing you are, hm?"

he suddenly took hold of your hips, pulling you closer as he fucked you faster, deeper — harder. you let out a strangled, choked moan as his cock hit all the right places inside of you, rubbing against that spongy spot as he fucked you closer and closer to your release.

jonathan groaned through gritted teeth, trying not to lose his sanity as he felt your warm, wet, hole clench around his cock. "fuck, you're so tight — perfect fucking pussy."

"a-ah, you feel, fuuck — so good, jonathan. right there—!"

"right there, darling?" he asked, emphasizing his words by snapping his hips into you harsher each time, "you like it when i fuck you like this? when i turn you into a desperate little whore, is that it?"

"yes, f-fuck y-yes!" you whine breathlessly, your mind going blank.

"i bet you love getting your pussy stretched like this, don't you?" he cooed with faux sympathy, "you love getting ruined by me."

"m-mhm!" you agree mindlessly, barely able to focus on his words with the way he was brutally pounding your cunt. "l-love you, jon."

"oh fuck— look at you pretty girl. so ruined and so fucking eager to please me." he growled lowly, watching you fall apart underneath him as you took his cock deeper. "god, i love you too — and i love watching you turn into nothing but a little fucktoy for me."

his degrading words didn't match with the saccharine tone that managed to slip through his voice. but you were too fucked out and ruined to put two and two together.

"come on my cock, darling." he commanded softly, feeling your cunt fluttering around his cock. "come for me."

his words pushed you over the edge, and within seconds, you were babbling incoherently again as he fucked you senseless. you couldn't process your thoughts — your brain short circuiting as your release washed over you.

the sight of you getting fucked dumb by him was enough to make jonathan come on the spot, and as you came all over his cock, he was filling your cunt with his warm seed. he let out a low, gravelly moan as he painted your walls white with his cum, and you wrapped your arms around him in an attempt to keep him close.

after the both of you caught your breath in the now oddly quiet bedroom in his apartment, he let out a breath as he winced, pulling out of you.

"so does this mean were just friends?" he joked, pulling you into his arms as you scoffed. "kidding — you're forever mine now, darling. don't you ever forget it."

@girlinterrupted505 @ciriceimpera @jordyn-yeager @thevelvetvampyre @galactict3a

@xanaxiii @nocturnest @psylrd @bloodandglitter207 @humbuginmybones 

@oceanstem @futurefamousdeadmusician @jonathancraneslittlepet @dolleyednymphette @kpopgirlbtssvt 

@ll4n4 @ilovetoxicfictionalmen @the-buddy-things @ellebelleshelby @wiseyouthinfluencer 

@aprilsfrog05 @minedofmoria @strangeobsessed @5tud10-54r4h @franzine-xii

@stsrfujid @psylrd @eyraaaaaae @nyxxie-pooh

[kristaprincess]

My parents were super-nervous about my going to South Africa with my church youth group on a mission trip, but I assured them there would be plenty of chaperones and convinced them the church would never take a group of high school girls any place dangerous. Besides, I reasoned, we’d probably be staying in a secure compound for our group only, protected by walls and security.

Imagine my surprise when I learned we’d be staying in tents near a river and surrounded by heavy jungle. Our plan was to assist an international medical team providing health care to mostly women and children from a nearby village. Our guides told us they’d built in some time for recreation in our schedule including several days of swimming in the river and a safari to look at some of the animals native to the area.

My bestie, McKenna and I read up on the area and talked endlessly about what we should and shouldn’t pack for the trip. Because our camp was so remote, we were told repeatedly not to overpack. We made list after list of clothes and toiletries to include in our duffels and repeatedly culled down the packing list, but we made sure to include swimsuits, since we’d be so close to the water and our itinerary included boating on the river. We also packed large quantities of sunscreen since our destination was not far from the equator and the sun would be intense, but we laughed about how we’d impress our friends when we returned with our deep tans.

When we arrived at the camp, it was like nothing I’d ever seen before and we joked with each other that “this ain’t Alabama at all!” But after our orientation, we were driven to the village and started work in the makeshift clinic, helping with simple medical exams and assisting the doctors in vaccinating children. The women from the village were shy, but smiled at us constantly and the little kids were absolutely adorable. We had fun playing games with them and keeping them occupied while they waited with their mothers.

On the third day, our guides told us they’d planned a recreation day and we’d be taken by Jeep upriver to a swimming spot for the day. We were asked to put on our swimsuits and be ready for the Jeeps in the morning. You can imagine my surprise when we gathered and the other eleven girls in our group were all wearing one-piece suits! I was the only girl wearing a bikini.

As we arrived at the swimming spot, we parked and our guides led us through the forest to the river. We passed several clearings where groups of men were working and as we walked by, they would all stop and watch as a line of 12 blushing and giggling Alabama country girls passed by. They were more curious than threatening, but I couldn’t help feeling that I attracted more than my share of attention. I knew they probably weren’t use to seeing blonde hair, but I couldn’t help but feel like the fact I was showing more skin that the other girls was making them stare.

A group of about 15 or 20 men from the village followed us along the path to the river and stood watching as we set down our towels and walked tentatively into the water. It was unsettling at first but we ignored them and started swimming with each other. Before long, we spread our towels on the riverbank in the sun and lay down, drying ourselves in the heat. It was a lovely feeling and I nodded off to sleep for a while.

When I awoke, the men from the village were still there, watching intently. Some of us joked about the attention we were drawing but the men seemed harmless. When the two girls seated on towels near me returned to the water, I sat alone and watched, my senses taking in the feeling of being half a world away from my hometown in an environment totally alien from anything I’d ever seen.

A short time later, one of the men from the village walked over to me and said something in a language I didn’t understand. Of course, the only language I understood was English and I looked at him helplessly, shrugging my shoulders and saying “I’m sorry” over and over again. But, he motioned me to follow him and I wasn’t sure about what I should do. Could someone in his group need medical help? We’d been instructed not to separate from the group but maybe someone nearby spoke English and could translate. After a few minutes of confusion, I got up and started to follow him.

We started down the path we’d taken that brought us to the river, but after a short walk veered off a short distance to a clearing with a cluster of tents. The villagers at the river had followed us and I kept looking back over my shoulder to judge how far I was from the others in my group. The man who approached me motioned to follow him into one of the tents. I hesitated, but he smiled and gave me what I thought were assurances he meant no harm, so not knowing what to do I ducked in.

He reached into a basket and brought out a primitive gold chain and approached me, smiling. He moved to place the chain around my neck and I held up my hand to stop him.

“No, no,” I stammered. “I can’t…”

He smiled and reached in the basket for another chain and moved to loop it over my head and around my neck.

“It’s beautiful,” I said. “But, I’m not allowed to accept gifts.”

I heard the men from the village behind me talking to each other as I protested the gold being strung around me, but the man just kept reaching down and producing more strands and placing them on me. Their gifts were beautiful and I looked at each one closely, but my protests were ignored. They didn’t speak English and I couldn’t communicate that sending me back to my group with strand after strand of gold chain around my neck would only raise more questions and a demand from our guides that the gifts be returned to the village. They seemed so poor, how could they be lavishing such expensive gifts on me, I wondered.

After my neck and chest were adequately bejeweled, the man started draping chains across the front of my bikini, making me blush as he focused on my cleavage. When he finished, I covered my face in embarrassment, trying to figure out how I could exit this strange scene and get back to the other girls.

I looked at the man who had decorated me and smiled. “I have to go back…” I said.

“Take off…” he replied. The first words in English I’d heard him speak.

“Yes,” I said. “I must go!” and I turned to make my way out of the tent.

He gently placed his hand on my arm. “No,” he said, pointing to my chest. “Take off.” Did he want the chains back, I wondered? Gladly, I thought and began removing the gold from my body to return to him. But, he quickly stopped me.

“NO,” he said, emphatically. “Take OFF!” Again, he pointed at my chest. I was confused.

“I’m TRYING to give you back your gold!” I said, exasperated.

“No gold,” he said, pointing again. “Take off.”

My head was spinning as I looked around at the other men. Was I hearing this right? He was giving me gold jewelry so I would …take off…my bikini top? I began to nervously shake my head and move toward the entrance to the tent, but I was surrounded. I closed my eyes and tried to think of a way out, but when I opened them, the men from the village all stood watching me, smiling. Maybe if I did this quickly, they would let me return to my group. Maybe I could give them all a quick peek?

I grabbed one of the triangles of my bikini top and quickly pulled it aside, flashing my breast. There was lots of chatter among the men and I quickly told them “now, I have to go!”

“Take off,” the man said, pointing at my chest again.

I reached up behind my neck to untie my bikini top and when the strings loosened, I slowly let it fall, exposing my breasts. The chatter among the men increased and I quickly untied the tie around my back, pulling the bikini top off my body and letting my breasts slide free. The man held out his hand, apparently in the hope that I’d be willing to give him my bikini top, but I should my head “no.”

I slowly turned around to give all the villagers a good look and returned a nervous smile to the man who’d led me here. He returned my smile, pointed lower and again said “take off..”

Ohmigod, I thought. My bikini bottoms? This can’t be happening! When I hesitated, he gave me a stern look.

There were gold fasteners on either side of my bikini bottoms and my hands were shaking as I reached down to release them. I’d been topless with only one boy back in school and although he’d begged and begged for me to get naked, I’d refused. These village men were about to see something more than one small town Alabama boy had tried and failed to get a glimpse of. Oh, well, I thought. They don’t speak English so it’s not like they could ruin my reputation back home.

I pulled my bikini bottoms away from my hips and the chatter resumed as they jostled to look at my pussy. I kind of wished I had trimmed myself up but rationalized they were probably more used to seeing a full bush. Again, I turned in a slow circle to let them all see. When I turned to face the man with the chains, he motioned for me to take a seat on a makeshift bed to one side of the tent’s interior, a wooden rack covered by a rough canvas bag stuffed with some kind of plant material.

He spoke to one of the men from the village, a tall man who looked like he was in his late 20’s or early 30’s. The man made his way through the villagers and stood in front of me. He was unclothed from the waist up, the bottom of his body covered by a rust-colored cloth belt, tying a canvas cloth covering his hips down to his ankles. Like me, his chest was decorated with gold chains and he stood expressionless.

After the older man spoke, the younger man began to loosen his belt and I could feel my face getting hot. I hoped this wasn’t what I thought it might be. The bottom cloth opened and he tossed it away, standing naked in front of me, his long, thick penis draping down in a soft arc.

I clasped my hands over my face and covered my eyes. “No, no, no,” I stammered. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do here, but this ain’t it,” I said.

“Where I come from, 17-year old white girls don’t do hook-ups with black men just because they got jewelry from their friends.”

I felt the younger man grab my wrists and remove my hands from my face. He moved closer, placing his crotch directly in front of my face. He grasped my hand and placed it on his cock.

“A blowjob?” I said. “Is that what this is all about? You gave me all this gold so I’ll blow this dude?”

I felt the man’s hand on the back of my head, pushing me forward and without even thinking I opened my mouth. His semi-hard cock brushed against my lips and slid into my mouth, my tongue feeling the texture of his shaft as he pushed deeper. If any of the kids in my mission group found out what I was doing, it wouldn’t take long for word to get back to the other kids at school and by Monday morning, the entire school would know the rumor. I shuddered to think what kind of talk would go through our little town if any of the church chaperones ever found out.

I began moving my lips back and forth on his cock and I could feel him pulsing in my mouth. None of the other men spoke while I was blowing him and I looked up to see him staring straight at me, a snarl on his lips. I’d only ever done this twice in my life – once in eighth grade when an older boy that I’d had a crush on convinced me to “take a walk” with him behind the VFW hall during a school dance. The other was earlier in my junior year of high school when a make-out session on my third date with a boy from my high school led him to practically beg that I go down on him. I resisted in silence at first, but he persisted and I complied hoping that it would lead to a fourth date and beyond. It did, but I soured on the relationship when it because obvious that he wanted each date to end the same way.

Gradually, the younger man became more forceful as he got closer to orgasm and I started to clue in to how he wanted things to end. I realized that one way or another, I was going to wind up with a mouthful of semen and I was glad I was naked if for no other reason than returning to my group wearing a cum-stained bikini would be even more embarrassing.

From the corner of my eye I could see the other men in the tent watching intently and a few of them touching themselves. I prayed they weren’t planning the same treatment or the guides for our group would be sending out a search party.

The younger man groaned and pushed his cock deeper into my mouth. I felt him throb and his hot, milky sperm shot onto my tongue. His crotch was pungent as he held me close and his cum was salty and slightly bitter-tasting. The consistency was kind of gooey and I could feel it sliding down my throat into my tummy. What I wasn’t prepared for was the length of his orgasm. Spurt after spurt after spurt as I continued to swallow. Through it all, he held me in place and I had no other choice but to take his seed.

He withdrew from my mouth and the men were silent as I stood, still shaking, and slowly put my bikini back on. Without saying a word, I made my way out of the tent and started down the path leading back to the river, the gold chains still draped around my neck.

As I drew closer to the riverbank, I slipped off the gold chains and carried them in my hand. The other girls gasped when they saw what I was carrying and I handed out chains to each of them, telling them all they were gifts from the local village. I hoped the other girls wouldn’t get to close to me in case the residue from my encounter was still on my chin or in my hair.

When the guides announced the time had come for us to gather up our belongings and head back to the vehicles, I was relieved to be back in my group. I didn’t say much on the walk back and no one asked me where I’d gotten off to as if they’d noticed my absence much.

When we approached the Jeeps one of the guides was leaning against the car, watching me, smiling at me as I drew closer. His gaze made the goose bumps on my arms stand up and I tried not to look at him as I climbed into the Jeep.

“Enjoy your swim?” he asked.

“Yeah, it was fun,” I said, still not looking at him.

“The men from the village thought you were very beautiful,” he said. “I guess that’s why they decided to give you all those gifts.”

“That was very kind of them.”

“Not at all,” he said. “They were especially grateful for your treatment of the chief’s son. He has many wives and lots of children. The women of the village all talk about how special he makes them feel when he chooses one of them for the night.”

“Oh,” I said, blushing a deep red. “Is that so?”

The guide leaned closer and whispered in my ear. “The women say his ejaculate is so strong, a baby is practically guaranteed when he lies with them.”

“The chief must be very proud to have so many grandchildren.”

“He is,” the guide whispered. “But only his favorite wives can tell stories about how his sperm tastes. When he lets a woman please him with her mouth, he feeds her before he puts a baby inside her.”

“Ohmigod,” I whispered, slightly stunned.

“I’ll bring your group back here to swim again in three days. I hope you will enjoy it as much as you enjoyed today.”

Part 1

[djuvlipen]

Every hour, a woman in Afghanistan loses her life during childbirth

It was midnight when another wave of pain struck. Begum, 35, thought it was finally time for her child to be born, but there were no signs of the baby coming.

“I woke my husband and told him to get a car to go to a hospital. He rented one from our neighbours,” Begum said.

The mother of four travelled while in labour from Ridkhord area in Badakhshan’s Zibak district to the Shahid Ustad Burhanuddin Rabbani Hospital in the provincial capital Faizabad.

Her fifth child, struggling to be born, did not survive the journey.

Begum lived, but many mothers in similar circumstances do not.

Abdullah is currently waiting to hear if his wife will survive their child’s birth.

He and his wife, residents of the province’s Yafta-e-Bala area, came on foot to the central hospital in Faizabad when their baby was due to be born.

“In Yaftal-e-Bala, there are four health centres. However, because of inadequate medical facilities and no doctor available, we had to walk for four or five hours to Faizabad for delivery,” Abdullah said.

“We encountered many challenges along the way, but I couldn’t do much until we reached the hospital.”

Doctors said that because his wife had walked a long distance, it led to severe bleeding and possibly harmed the baby in the womb.

“The mother’s condition is not good and there is little hope for the baby to survive,” Abdullah said doctors told him.

Afghanistan’s deadly statistics for mothers

According to the latest World Health Organization (WHO) report, each day 24 mothers and 167 newborns in Afghanistan lose their lives due to complications in pregnancy and childbirth.

It’s the highest rate in the world.

“The condition of mothers is highly alarming, particularly for those who travel from remote areas and cover long distances,” a specialist at the Shahid Ustad Burhanuddin Rabbani Hospital, who spoke on condition of anonymity, said.

Having worked in Badakhshan for 22 years, the doctor said that the shortage of healthcare services, especially in remote areas, leads to significant health risks for women.

He recalled a patient who arrived at the hospital from Darwaz district about a month ago after travelling for three days.

“Due to the long journey, the patient’s womb had ruptured along the way, leading to the loss of the baby. The doctors only managed to save the mother’s life with great difficulty,” he said.

Discrimination leading to more deaths

There are concerns the situation is only getting worse as the Taliban place more restrictions on women’s mobility and access to support, and the weakened economy sees healthcare facilities struggle to deliver services.

The WHO reported that in 2023, about 428 health centres were closed because of budget constraints.

Dr Suraya Dalil, WHO’s Director of the Special Programe for Primary Health Care and former Minister of Health in Afghanistan from 2010 to 2014, said that Afghanistan has become one of the most perilous countries for mothers due to insufficient healthcare resources.

Dr Dalil told Rukhshana Media that the Taliban’s discriminatory policies make women more vulnerable in accessing healthcare.

“There is a regime in Afghanistan that systematically discriminates against women. For instance, a few months ago, a directive was sent to the central hospital in Ghazni province stating that women without a male companion would not receive treatment,” she said.

“Similarly, in Herat, a directive was issued prohibiting ultrasound services for women at the central hospital.”

She said that ultrasound examinations are crucial for diagnosis and timely treatment decisions, services that have unfortunately been restricted for women.

Recently, the Taliban supreme leader issued an order for all female employees to receive a reduced monthly salary.

“Recently, we’ve witnessed female employees being allocated a monthly salary of only 5,000 afghanis (US$70), disregarding their rank, experience, and job responsibilities solely because they are women. This is systemic discrimination,” she said.

“The impact of the Taliban’s actions on women extends beyond just health issues. It has multidimensional implications.”

Health professionals strike over reduced salaries

This month several doctors, nurses, and midwives in Kabul hospitals staged a strike in protest of this decision by the Taliban leadership.

At least four female doctors and staff from hospitals such as Wazir Mohammad Akbar Khan, Shaikh Zahid, and Sehat-e-Tefl, speaking to Rukhshana Media,  said they cannot meet their basic living needs with the salary recently set by the Taliban for all female employees.

Homa*, a physician at Wazir Mohammad Akbar Khan hospital, said their protest lasted only three hours after the hospital’s Taliban-appointed director dispersed them with threats.

Orphaned children left to raise each other

Hanifa, 21, a resident of Sarjai area of Panjab district of Bamyan province now takes care of her two younger sisters and two younger brothers after the death of their mother.

She said that there are no clinics in their village or nearby areas, which is why her mother had to give birth at home.

“My poor mother cried in pain, clutching her back, yet she continued to bake bread. With my father and two brothers away working on farmlands, there was no man at home. My mother, assisted by our neighbor, who was a local woman, gave birth at home,” she said.

“She always delivered her children at home and was used to it, but this time, one of the twins didn’t come out, and her bleeding was so severe that the entire house was stained with blood.

“After giving birth, my mother survived only two hours. Despite our efforts, we couldn’t deliver the second twin because there was no accessible vehicle, and my father wasn’t home to help us.

“When my mother realized her bleeding wouldn’t stop, she urged us to take good care of her daughter, who was a baby girl. She remained conscious for two hours, growing weaker with each passing moment until she eventually lost consciousness.”

Karima Sadiq* a gynecologist specializing in obstetrics in remote areas, said stories like these are increasingly common.

“Sadly, since the Taliban seized power in Afghanistan, I have witnessed a rise in maternal deaths during childbirth, particularly in villages and districts. Every 24 hours, 24 to 26 mothers are losing their lives during childbirth, highlighting a disturbingly high maternal mortality rate.”

The United Nations Children’s Fund (UNICEF) recently reported that one-third of women in Afghanistan give birth without access to essential healthcare facilities, and only around 67 percent of deliveries in Afghanistan are supervised by healthcare professionals.

According to UNICEF’s report, it is recommended that pregnant women visit a doctor at least four times before delivery, but only a third of women in Afghanistan adhere to this recommendation.

UNICEF stated that that if a mother gives birth outside of a healthcare facility and without access to a skilled health professional, her life is significantly endangered.

Note*: Names are changed due to security reasons.

[macgyvermedical]

So, it's the 1920s. You're a nurse in a remote rural area. There's a hospital you can get in contact with but it's small, understaffed, and at least a few hours away. Someone shows up in the middle of the road who nobody recognises. They seem malnourished and severely dehydrated. It's been a long, hot summer and it seems likely they've been outdoors for several weeks. They seem disorientated and either can't or won't talk. What do you do? What action would a sensible nurse take when someone came running to ask for their help? (No pressure, I won't be offended if you ignore this, sorry if it's boring)

Especially in the 1920s in a rural area, this would have been a nursing problem, not a medical one, so really no hospital would be needed or sought.

Assuming this was the USA, nurses worked primarily private duty at this time. That means that someone would have to hire them, and some form of payment would be expected.

Once that was arranged, the nurse would visit the home of whoever had taken this individual in and give instructions on how to rehydrate them, starting with small amounts of common (at the time) sick foods like beef tea, beef juice, chicken broth, and meat or chicken jelly, and progressing to eggnog, wine whey, or milk punch (yes including the whiskey).

How food was arranged for a sick person was considered extremely important (arguably it still is today, but we don't do nearly as much in the way of arranging sick food as we did in the early 1900s). Fruit should be peeled and served on ice, eggs should be opened and carefully sprinkled with salt in front of the patient with a spoon. It should be arranged very "daintily" and served in a way that pleases the patient.

Once the patient was doing a little better, here is a sample bill of fare for the recovery of an invalid, taken from a nursing textbook from 1905:

8am: fruit, a hot cereal, and a protein (an egg, small piece of fish or bacon)

11am: bullion, glass of eggnog or milk punch

1pm: heartiest meal of the day- soup or oysters to start, then meat and one vegetable, then a dessert of custard, milk pudding, or ice cream.

4pm: a cup of hot chocolate or milk

6pm: Scraped beef on milk toast and a baked apple.

[carbomcoco]

If you live in the midlands of South Carolina, please keep an eye out for Zelig Williams. He has not been seen since October 3, 2024. His family is concerned for his wellbeing, citing that the remote area his vehicle was found in is not a spot he frequents, and that he needs his medication. He and I have about a dozen mutual friends.

This post was made on October 12, 2024.