#also with no risk of cardiac arrest (probably)

[nelkcats]

Transfers

Jim Gordon decided to offer his home to the students transferring from Casper High to Gotham Prep for a few months. Barbara wasn't too happy about it but Jim preferred that to having those kids end up in a dangerous place or worse, with Bruce Wayne (he meant well but frankly Jim would rather not risk another young vigilante). Besides, one of the transfers practically demanded a restraining order against the millionaires, the poor kid.

Honestly Jim didn't understand why the transfer program existed. Casper didn't know how dangerous Gotham was? Or didn't they care?, all he hoped was that he could keep them safe and that they wouldn't come back to their home too traumatized.

Of course, he had no way of knowing that the Casper's trio was more than ready for Gotham, with weapons disguised in their suitcases and a ghost hero about to enjoy an extended vacation after negotiating a deal with the ghosts.

Gotham wouldn't know who hit it.

[autistic-katara]

yeah drugs r cool but have u ever binge read a long fanfiction of something you’re hyperfixated on in the middle of the night?

[redroses07]

Luigi Mangione x Fiance!Reader

W/C: 1.2k

Summary: You see your fiance on the news, but not for anything good. You argue, and then you fuck.

Warnings: Smut 18+, Minors DNI, fingering, unprotected PinV sex (please use a condom irl), Dom/Sub, smut with feelings, arguing, mention of murder (duh), violence (also duh), swearing, mention of blood, kinda hurt comfort, angst, kinda a crackfic.

A/N: For legal reasons, THIS IS A JOKE. (if you know me irl, no you don't.) Idk y'all, this idea just came to me, and I'll probably be put on a list for this but yk, yolo. Anyways! Enjoy, and lmk in the comments if you want a part two with more angst. Love you guys!

“Fuck, fuck, fuck” you mutter as you see the news banner. Written in bold capital letters.

‘UNITED HEALTHCARE CEO BRIAN THOMPSON ASSASSINATED BY UNKNOWN MASKED MAN’

A blurry CCTV image pictured a man in a green hoodie. His face was partially masked, but his eyes were still visible.

Your stomach dropped…you would recognize those eyes anywhere

‘he actually did it, that fucking idiot’, You thought to yourself.

You scrambled to find your phone, debating if making a call would consider you an accomplice in court.

You didn’t give a fuck.

You opened your phone, clicking on the only name you had pinned. Your heart rate increased with every ring.

Dial tone.

“Shit.” Your hands shook as you held back tears.

You faced cardiac arrest as your phone began to ring, the name ‘Luigi’ appearing at the top.

“Luigi, you fucking idiot they have you on the news.” You whispered, even if you were alone you couldn’t risk anyone overhearing.

You could hear his heavy breathing through the phone.

"Don't worry, I did what I had to." His usually calm voice was laced with anger.

"Where the hell are you?"

"Don't worry about that. I'll be home soon." He hung up on you.

You shouted in anger and you flung your phone across the room. Plopping down on the couch, you let your head fall into your shaky hands.

You kept your eyes locked on the door, continuing to curse under your breath. Praying that it would soon open, and the man you loved would walk through unharmed.

Someone, somewhere, must have heard your pleas because several minutes later Luigi came flying through the door. Out of breath, he wiped the sweat from his brow. He had a horrified look in his eyes, rightfully so.

You wasted no time, springing from your seat and rushing towards him. Taking his face in your hands you inspected him for any injuries, thankful for less than a scratch.

"Baby I'm fine." He took your hand in his, moving it away from his face.

"Well, yeah physically. But are we going to ignore the fact that you're now a fucking fugitive?" You shouted, refusing to hold back your anger.

"You don't understand. He fucking deserved it."

You pulled away from him, walking to the other side of the room.

"I'm not saying he didn't. but they're gonna catch you eventually, and then what?"

"I guess I'll go to jail. Sometimes these things have to be done. Violence has to be fought with violence."

Tears welled in your eyes, but they were no longer fearful. They were tears of rage.

"Are you serious?" You threw your hands up in the air.

"This is bigger than us, I want things to change for everyone." He took a few steps toward you, eyes not leaving you.

"What the fuck am I supposed to do if you're in jail? I fucking love you, Luigi. I understand what you're trying to do, but what if I'm not ready to make those sacrifices." Your voice was broken.

Luigi was silent. Staring at you with glassy eyes, and you could tell he was holding back tears as well.

You went back to your place on the couch, beginning to cry. You hid your face, tears falling into your sweaty palms.

After several moments alone, you felt a strong arm wrap around your body. Luigi pulled you into him, your cold skin pressed against his warm chest.

"I'm sorry." From the sound of it, Luigi was crying along with you.

"Hey, look at me." Lugi placed his hand under your chin, lifting your gaze.

"No matter what happens, I swear on my fucking life that I will find my way back to you." He didn't stutter, he didn't falter. He was the most honest man you knew, and his words gave you hope.

His lips crashed against yours, pulling you into a passionate kiss. It was as if it was the last time your lips would ever meet, and perhaps it was.

He pulled you even closer to him, and you wished for your bodies to melt into each other. Your hands found his hair, tugging at his loose curls. You let out a small moan. Luigi bit your lip, and the metallic taste of blood filled your mouth.

A pair of warm hands pressed themselves against your torso, tightly gripping your skin. Your lips disconnected for only a moment as your shirt was removed, your bra along with it.

You were pushed back against the couch cushion, Luigi's lips exploring your body. You took the opportunity to pull his shirt off, exposing his toned abs.

Before you knew it, your shorts and panties were gone. What had started out as an argument, had turned into the complete opposite.

Luigi sat up, examining you with a loving gaze.

"You're so beautiful." He said before diving into another kiss.

Your tongues tangled together, as Luigi applied pressure to your sensitive clit. You let out a low moan.

Luigi let out a deep laugh, before plunging two fingers into your aching core. You arched your back, unable to take the wave of pleasure that washed over you.

"You like that?" He whispered in your ear. His deep voice made you wetter than you already were; if that was even possible.

Luigi sucked and moaned against your skin as he worked. Your orgasm was approaching faster than normal.

"Fuck, oh fuck, I'm gonna.." You panted.

"Shhh, it's okay baby, cum for me." His free hand comes up to caress your face.

You ride out your orgasm with his fingers still inside of you, and before you know it; he is removing his belt and pants.

It's a blur, and his cock is inside of you. He's pumping in and out of you, slow but not too slow. A passionate type of slow. You had never felt so loved during sex until you met Luigi. Intimacy meant more to him than just pleasure, it was an act of love.

He laced your fingers together as he continued to fuck you, and you had never felt closer to him than you did at this moment. No one but the two of you, and the sounds of your moans.

"I fucking love you." It was the hundredth time he'd said it in the past hour, but it felt the same every time.

Luigi released himself inside of you and collapsed on your chest. He pulled out, his cum leaking from your cunt.

He continued to litter kisses on your skin, whispering praises between each one.

"We'll get through this." He whispered, barely loud enough for you to hear.

You did your best to push your troubles to the back of your mind. As for now, being with him was all that mattered. however, you never knew when it would be the last time.

[sinsandsweetness]

“consequences” - part 4 of PICK YOUR POISON - (a dads best friends love story)

part 1, 2, and 3

pairing- (Rick x fem!reader)

warnings- 18+ content, age gap, smut, needy + desperate reader, sneaky sex, almost getting caught, unprotected p in v, light choking, mutual pining, cream pie, poorly proofread. wc 3.9k

notes- i know this took forever, so thank you all for the patience. i rewrote this like three or four times because i just wasn’t as happy with it as i am with the first three parts. i’m pretty happy with it now but I feel it isn’t as playful as the first three. regardless, please tell me what you think:) comments and reblogs are always incredibly appreciated and your feedback means a lot to me <3 enjoy!

3 weeks.

That’s how long it took you to break him. Since that day up in your room, during the barbecue. When he was insistent on showing you how much better he could take care of you than anyone else could. 3 weeks from then is when you finally broke him. And who’d have thought it’d be in your own home, with your dad passed out on the main floor. Unaware of the downright filth happening upstairs in your bedroom. Filth that if he ever found out, would send him into cardiac arrest. Though you’re always careful, and to you, the risk is definitely worth the reward.

But it’s not like you haven’t had a couple close calls. Stolen kisses and flirty glances can’t go unnoticed forever. Your father hasn’t ever said anything. Even when he can see Rick’s hands on your waist, lingering a minute too long. Or the way you always sit right next to him. Pressed up as close as humanly possible. Practically in his lap. Well... sometimes actually in his lap. Your father’s not stupid. But, he’s also not exactly the most confrontational man. And he’s never actually caught you. There’s been no real confirmation of his suspicions. Until today that is.

After a long day of work at your dads construction site, Rick arrives at your house before any of the others. Freshly showered with a case of beer. It’s just you and him in the kitchen. Making small talk as he tries to pretend there isn’t a band of tension pulling the two of you closer and closer with every meaningless question.

“Didn’t know you were coming over,” you say, chopping up some vegetables on a cutting board. Glancing up at Rick who can’t seem to look you in the eyes. Distracted by the tiny little outfit you have on. A skirt, despite the brisk weather. A tight, fitted long sleeve that’s pushing your breasts together in the most enticing way possible. No bra. Clearly. And then there’s the best part. The part he keeps glancing down at while licking his lips and taking in a deep breath. Your thigh highs. White knit thigh high socks that make him want to pin you up against the counter and fuck you then and there.

“I uh- your dad told us to come for some drinks,” he looks up at you again, this time you’re leaning against the island, brushing your hands together to dry them off.

“So… where’s my dad then?” You ask, stepping even closer to the man. Too close, you realize at the hitch of his breath.

It’s been a really long 3 weeks.

“Uh- I imagine he got sidetracked. I know Maggie was looking for him. Probably caught up in conversation.”

“And Shane? Daryl?”

“On their way.”

“Hmm.” You hum. You’re right in front of him now. You can smell his cologne and the shampoo he uses. Damp curls forming at the base of his neck. Casual black jeans on, and a simple grey tee shirt. He places the case of beer right next to you on the counter, stepping in close so he’s pressed up against you. Trapped between his warm body and the cool marble.

You stay like that for a moment. Both of your minds going back to the night last week that you snuck out. To what happened in that truck. But more importantly what didn’t happen. What you’ve been praying would happen for weeks.

Finally he leans in, pressing a sweet little kiss to the corner of your lips before dipping lower. Breathing in your perfume.

“Missed you,” he admits into your neck. The warmth of his breath sends little pinpricks down your arms.

You breath in a quiet gasp when he kisses your neck. Warm, soft lips making their way down to your collarbone. His hands on either side of your waist, planting you against the counter.

God, you want him so bad it hurts.

Your hand goes to the back of his neck, pulling him up so his lips are forced against yours. Kissing him with the same fervor and necessity that had been building all month. Since that very first kiss in your dads garage. Since that day at the barbecue when Rick took you upstairs and showed you how much better he is at making your legs shake than Shane. Since the pool party, the day you were a complete tease and they all knew it. When Rick decided to take you down to the pool shed and teach you a lesson. You had no idea fingers could even feel that good. But Rick’s do. Everything Rick does, feels good to you.

And then, there was the night last week. The one that both of you have been thinking about every hour since.

You’d snuck out your bedroom window just to see him. To go for a drive and park on the side of the road. You kissed him til your lips were swollen and your panties were soaking through.

You know he’s wanted you from the very start. When he first met your dad and started coming over. Well before you’d ever kissed him. Showed interest in him. But that night, it hit him. How much he wants you to himself. How much he loves being alone with you. Just you. But no matter how tempted he may have seemed, he still refused to break the agreement. He still wouldn’t fuck you.

Yet.

“Rick-“ you gasp against his lips as he pulls you up onto the counter, your legs immediately wrapping around his waist. Skirt riding up to expose your lacy panties. You can feel him against you. How badly he wants you. How hard he is for you. How hard he’s been every night since the night you snuck out to see him. Touching himself to the thought of you, wishing he’d just fucked you then, on the side of the highway in the dead of night. Just you and him and the stars acting as the only witnesses to your risky little love affair.

“Want you,” you say against his lips, his hand starting to gently wrap around the front of your throat. His other arm pulls you in by the waist so you’re completely flush with his chest.

“Want you so bad,”

But before he can mumble a response into your mouth, both of you hear the garage door open. You both freeze. Eyes going wide, you slide off the counter, immediately pulling your skirt back to an appropriate length. Rick rubs a hand over his face, turning the other direction. Giving you a moment of privacy to get yourself situated and to deal with the tent in the front of his jeans.

Your father walks in first.

You can't even look at him. Blush so very apparent on your pretty face as you look down at the cutting board, pretending to be occupied with the assortment of vegetables. Daryl and Shane head straight for the fridge. Only giving you a smirk of acknowledgment as their gaze is darting in between you and Rick.

Your father notices. The way you won’t look him in the eye. The way Rick is nervously running a hand through his hair and how his eyes keep darting over to you. He sees it. He’s not stupid. But for whatever reason, he doesn’t say anything. He just stalks over and slaps Rick on the back with a, “thanks man, really needed this after the week we’ve had.”

Rick nods in agreement, taking a sip of the bottle your father just handed him. Rick looks over at you. Something unspoken behind his eyes that you can’t quite make out. Yeah, it’s been a long week indeed.

You don’t stay downstairs long. When Shane and your father start getting all loud and rowdy in the living room, the empty bottles of their fifth beers being knocked over onto the hardwood as their play fight begins, that’s when you decide to head upstairs with a quick wave, “g’night.” Rick is the only one who catches it. Nodding back at you as you climbed the stairs. Watching you sway your hips with every step. Skirt so short that the bottom of your ass cheeks are on full display.

You try sleeping. But every time you close your eyes you see Rick. That night in his truck. Straddling his waist and unbuckling his belt. The way he kissed you so deep. Filled with so much lust. So much need. You’d never felt that before. And even though he told you exactly how bad he wanted you, he didn’t have to. You could feel it. With every touch. Every kiss. That’s why it surprised you when you tried to go all the way and he still wanted to stop you.

“Not like this. I can’t- I'm… we’re not doin’ it like this.”

“Why?” You were out of breath, still trying at his belt but his hand came down to stop you, firmly calling your name. Grabbing your full attention to his stormy blues.

“We’re on the side of the road for christs sake. It should be- fuck. We should be at home in a real bed. Not sneaking around in some beater pickup in the middle of nowhere-”

“Rick-”

“No.”

“This is perfect.” You tried to assure him.

He sighed and pulled your forehead against his, catching your lips before mumbling, “You’re perfect.”

“I want this. I want you.”

“I know. And you have no idea how badly I want this too. But I can’t. I just- we can’t.”

He still made you come. Regardless of the fact that he wouldn’t fuck you. He wasn’t going to let you go home without a proper orgasm.

But you needed more. Needed him.

And now, laying in bed, reliving the scene in your head with your hands trailing down to your panties, you’re soaking right through. Your stomach doing backflips at the memory of his hands roaming your body in the dark.

With a frustrated groan, you sit up. Fuck. A cold shower is what you really need.

You get up and open your bedroom door, immediately met with the sight of Rick on the top step of the stairs. He’s got his index pressed to his lips when he sees you. Telling you to be quiet. Hush.

He’s smiling behind his hand. Dropping it as he reaches your bedroom door. He brings his arm up to the doorway, leaning on it. Other hand sporting a half empty bottle of beer. You wonder how many he’s had.

“They’re all passed out on the couch aren’t they?” You ask, crossing your arms and leaning against the doorway. Arms only inches from his chest.

“How’d you guess?”

“Well… it’s quiet, for one,” you turn around and head to your bed, sitting down and waiting for him to follow.

He does.

“And two… you’re here.” You say.

“I am.”

He sits down. A quiet moment passes and he takes another swig of beer before placing the bottle on your nightstand.

“Y’know, if you really don’t wanna sleep with me, you should probably stop inviting yourself into my bedroom. It’s sending some pretty mixed signals.”

He chuckles at your comment. “Mixed signals huh?” His hand goes to your leg, tracing the band of your thigh highs. You’re no longer wearing your skirt. Just panties, socks and an ex-boyfriend's baggy tee shirt.

“Yeah,”

“I was thinkin’ the same thing about you, sweetheart,” his hand makes its way up your thigh. His palm is rough against your smooth skin, the attention sending a jolt straight between your legs.

“How so?”

“Shane? Daryl?” He says it like it’s obvious. You fooling around with the other best friends.

“That’s different.” You look up at him now, the tiniest scowl on your face.

“How so?” His tone is soft but it’s clear he’s mocking you.

You open your mouth to respond but something stops you. Deep breath. You’re looking at his lips now. And he knows it.

“I wanted you, y’know. They’re fun and all but…“ you swallow. You need Rick. From the very start it’s been pretty obvious that you like him best. Always sitting next to him, as close as you can get. There’s just something different about Rick. The way he makes you feel. The way he was so quick to claim you. How he’s possessive and attentive and so insanely infatuated by you. It’s just… different. You can’t explain it.

“But what?” His nose is nearly touching yours at this point. One hand on your thigh and the other one reaching for your face. Thumb running across your jaw as you lean in.

You’re voice is quiet when you finally speak.

“I want you.”

He lips graze yours and you have a feeling that he heard you this time. Like, really fucking heard you. Not just the words leaving your mouth, but everything else that you’re trying to say. The way your heart is beating fast and you’re breathing is all shallowed. How he can see every nervous little tic that goes through you as he leans in to kiss you.

So he gives in. Reluctantly of course. If asking, “you sure about this?,” while peeling your panties down your legs is considered reluctant. Or worriedly whispering that “we could get caught,” while tossing your shirt across the room and leaning down to suckle at your breasts, nipping and sucking a few little love bites where no one else will see but him. Because that’s so very reluctant of him.

His hands are wrapped around your waist as he kisses down your stomach. Soft lips making their way down between your legs, propping one of your legs up and kissing your inner thigh. He takes his time, biting your leg and dragging his teeth down your sensitive skin. The action makes you whine, hands going straight to his curls.

“Rick just- c’mon,”

“Why don’t you just lay back and look pretty, huh?”

“Rick-” you’re on fire. Need pulsing through your bloodstream with every touch. His hands are holding your hips to the mattress, preventing them from squirming around. The featherlight kisses he’s peppering over your clit are bordering on the side of torture. You know he’s just trying to take his time. To savour the feeling and drag it on. Make it last and make it special. But he doesn’t realize how badly you need him to push your knees to your chest and fuck you til you’re a moaning mess.

“Rick.” You tug on his hair, trying to get him to just fuck you already. You’ve been waiting over a month for this. And judging by the arousal dripping onto your pink, cotton sheets, you definitely don’t need the foreplay.

“Maybe you’d get what you want if you used your manners a little more. Ever thought of that?” He looks up at you. And despite his words, he follows the hand urging him to come up and kiss your lips. To replace his shoulders with his hips in between your legs.

“Please,” you breath out. If manners is all he wants, then you’re a lucky girl. You’d tell him whatever he wants to hear if it mean he’ll fuck you. “Please, please, just fuck me, just-”

“God, you’re such a brat,” he cuts you off with a kiss, you’re legs instinctively wrapping around his clothed torso. And the feeling of his denim against your bare clit isn’t helping your incredibly desperate situation.

You reach for his belt mid kiss and you can tell that his instincts are telling him to stop you. To tell you that you’re dad’s downstairs and that it’s wrong. But with his forehead pressed against yours, warm breath fanning over your lips he dips down to kiss your neck. He doesn’t stop you. He lets you unbuckle his belt and push his jeans down, enough to reach his cock, standing tall and eager. You tug on his tee shirt and he helps you take it off, throwing it onto the pile of both your clothes building on your floor. You pull him in close with your legs, knitted socks all soft against his bare back, almost locking him into place. Your hands are on his jaw, pulling him in as you bite his bottom lip, gently dragging it out and earning a groan. At the same time, he lines himself up with your aching cunt. He enters you slowly with a muffled moan. A gasp leaves your lips at the stretch. He’s much bigger than anyone you’ve been with. In length and in girth.

Once every thick inch is completely inside of you, he can tell that you need a minute. Your breath is caught in your throat as you adjust to his size.

Well, no going back now.

“You okay?” He asks in between kisses. Keeping his hips still as you get used to the feeling.

You nod, “Just- go slow, ok?”

You can’t help the moan that’s crawling up your throat when he does as you say. Slow, intentional movements in and out. Fuck he’s big. But fuck, does it ever feel good.

“You feel so good,” you tell him. You need to tell him. To let him know how much you love it. How much you needed it. Needed him. “Please don’t ever stop.”

His breathing is heavy. Pushing down the groans and sounds you so desperately wish he would let you hear. He’s trying so hard not to come. You’re so wet. So warm. So tight around his cock and so fucking pretty laying there underneath him. Moaning all sorts of praise.

“You’re so big,”

“Rick, yes.”

“Right there, please.”

“Feels so good,”

And your words add fuel to the fire burning inside of him. The way you’re holding onto his neck, legs locked behind his back. Lips parted in the long awaited bliss of being filled right up. Taking him so well. And he makes sure to tell you it, too.

“That’s it, baby. Doin’ so good,” he kisses you again, “taking me so well.”

There’s a lot of hands. Grabbing at arms, necks, hair, faces. Whatever either of you can reach as he snaps his hips against yours. He’s done going slow. His pace is making your back arch off the bed and guttural, almost pornographic noises start to pour from your lips. Swollen and rosy and constantly catching his with every opportunity.

“Shhhh-“ Rick brings a hand up to your face. Forehead still pressed agains yours as he covers your mouth. “Gonna wake em’ up if you keep making so much noise.”

That’s not the only reason he needs you to shut up. It’s true, but it’s not the only reason.

He can’t take it. Well, at least he doesn’t think he can.

When he pulls out, your eyes go wide. No. Don’t stop. Why the hell is he stopping?

“What- oh.” your head falls back to the pillow at the feeling of his tongue on your clit. His fingers already knuckle deep and curling upwards to hit your sweet spot. Those fucking sounds you’re making are driving him crazy. But at least he knows he can last a little longer this way. Maybe make you come before he fucks you again. A little less pressure to perform when you’re already dumb from his fingers. From his tongue. From the way he’s sucking on your clit and pushing up on your thigh, fingers driving into you so hard you could scream.

You have to cover your own mouth. You know you’re being too noisy. And you also know the last thing either of you want is for your father to wake up to the sound of his daughter getting finger fucked by his best friend. By his friend who’s at least 15 years older than you. The one he’s been suspicious of for a few weeks now, over analyzing the way he looks at you. The way he listens to you. The way he brings you up and asks what you’re up to. All of it. And then earlier. The flushed faces of guilt and embarrassment when he got home in the middle of your moment.

You don’t need any kind of interruption. Anything that might put off the thing you’ve been pining for so badly for so long. But you definitely don’t need the interruption to come hurling up the stairs, drunk and careless and ready to fight.

So you bite your lip til it bleeds. A hot wave of pleasure erupts from your core, and spreads through you like a wildfire. Fuck. Those damn fingers.

Before you can even catch your breath, while your muscles are still twitching from your orgasm, his forearms find their way to either side of your face and he pushes inside of you once again.

“Ohmygod,”

You’re soaking. Both of you can hear it. The sounds of your slick, wet cunt perfectly taking every single thrust. So wet. And all for him.

“Ohmygod,” you repeat, nails raking down his back as he lifts your leg over his shoulder, deepening the angle to something otherworldly. Heaven or paradise or whatever utopia you can think up, couldn’t even compare. Not to this. Not to him. The way his cock kisses your cervix with every snap of his hips. The way his hands are roaming over your body. Trying to touch every square inch he can. The way he’s whispering all that dirty praise, telling you how good you feel. How wet you are for him. How fucking perfect you are. For him. The way he kisses the leg propped up on his shoulder, leaning back to admire what a mess he’s made out of his best friends daughter. So pretty and perfect. All flushed and glowing with a thin sheen of sweat coating your chest. Eyes glossed over in complete and utter ecstasy.

Nothing can compare.

“Rick, I- I-” your voice keeps catching in your throat.

“What? What is it?”

“Rick I- uh,” Ricks thumb runs over your bottom lip, dragging it out.

“I’m gonna come.” Your voice is hushed but your words don’t go unnoticed. Your grip tightens on his shoulders as his long fingers make their way down your body, pushing down on your lower stomach. It’s an intense pressure, sweet and comforting and so fucking enraptured that it brings tears to your eyes.

“God, you’re so pretty. Come for me, baby. Come all over my cock. ” He coaxes it out of you. Sultry moans leave your lips as you both reach your climax. Locking your leg around his waist as he fills you with his seed. Dipping down to press a passionate kiss to your mouth. Tongue tracing your own as his hips stutter to a stop. Heavy breathing with your chests pressed together. Thigh muscles straining from the angle but you can’t find it in you to care. Too overwhelmed by such an incredible high.

He whispers your name against your lips.

“Yeah?” You’re out of breath, doe eyes glancing up at him like he’s some kind of god.

“You are so fucking perfect.”

You know that while he means it, it’s not what he really wants to say. As if it might scare you off if he speaks the truth. If he tells you what he’s really thinking. It won’t. But he doesn’t know that.

Slowly, he pulls out of you. You can’t help but wince at the loss of contact. Leaned back on his knees, Rick tucks himself back into his jeans, forgetting all about his belt at the hypnotic sight of his cum dripping out of you. Both of you too caught up in the moment to think about a condom. And too blissed out now to find it in yourselves to care. His fingers trace through the warm liquid. You find yourself flinching at the sensitivity when he brushes over your clit.

“I’ll uh- I’ll grab a washcloth. Just- stay here, ok?”

You smile up at him. So predictably sweet and caring and clearly starting to overthink as he comes down from his high. Mind racing with “what if’s” and the overwhelming fear that you might regret it. Regret him.

But you don’t.

“Wait,” you grab his arm as he starts to stand up, heading for the bathroom to clean you up. To take care of you.

“Can we go again?”

A flash of surprise and then a wave of relief washes over his face as he sits back down.

“Jesus, kid.” He smiles and settles back in between your legs.

Right where he belongs.

-

taglist- @rickswh0r3 @elnyrae @catt-leya @miinbun @murder-jacket @ankhmutes @grimesthinker @eternalrose81 @cl0wnb0yyy @whatthefuuuck @olive3oil @taylormarieee @imyourbratzdoll @fanngirl19 @spidermonkey2423 @belaballs @virtualreader @darylsdix0nn @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @cavillsgirl105 @movidita @flomrpus @summergirl37

(crossed out means I couldn’t tag)

[heartlaboratory]

Claudia, one of your friends, invited you to attend to her beach volley match. The match is held indoor so, given the fact that its summer and in this country summer is also very humid, temperatures are going to be torrid. Beside this fact you're still quite surprised to see that the majority of the players are playing naked, females too (in this parallel univers human are not ashamed by their own bodies). After all sweating is the best way to cool down. She's quite skinny but look really good with that blue bikini, you always liked her so, secretely, you're very happy to see her playing covered just with air. Given the fact that the playground is going to be free the whole day, organizers decided to complete the tournament without skippying to next day.

Some hours have passed and she has played for a lot of time now. Room temperature went higher than 36°C for the whole last matches and now Claudia looks pretty torn. She's always been a warrior, someone who don't surrender easily but all that jumping in this particular condition had an effect on her too. She's covered by sweat, her skin has assumed a reddish tone and her panting has become so deep anyone can clearly hear her fast inspirations and exales. The thing that tunrs on a light in your mind though is the fact that her entire upper body is rhythmically shaking like it's thrusted by a sort of internal earthquake. You suddenly realize that you recently activated a medical app on your phone developped at the laboratory where you work that makes possible medical analises through the phone camera thanks to experimental sensors placed in the camera. You activate the app and feel pretty lifted up by the fact you already added her profile. A thin ensamble of laser rays, almost invisible, is projeced towards her and the selected target orgal (obviously Claudia's heart) becomes visible on the screen. Her heart is beating like crazy, not only considering the pace but also the strenght of each beat, the app says her heart is beating at around 195 bpm but it's probably even higher. It's something that is completely out of any safety zone for someone who is 34 years old... and not even a younger person should push its heart like this. The device can also work as a digital stethoscope and by wearing headphones to listen to her you remained schoked. Her blood is pushed so violently that it's making strange wooshing-like noises by rubbing against her heart internal structures, sounds that almost cover up her slamming valves. Suddenly the software gives a diagnosis: High cardiac risk- probability of a sudden cardiac arrest of 89%-potentially lethal arrhythias occurring. By looking at her detected heart electrical activities, her organ is so over-stimulated that PVCs and VTACs burst are already present. You know exactly what to do, Claudia's life has an 89% probability to end in the next few minutes and it's increasing. You decide to get up from your seat and run towards the referee to show him the analysis of your device. One of the players' heart is going to stop very soon.

A second before you move, on the ecg a strange beat appears and suddenly Claudia's heart interrupts any activity, it doesn't even fibrillate, it just ceases to beat as silence arises from your headphones. Terrified you see her taking a couple of deep breath, the ball she was holding fell on the ground and her left hand is placed in between her bare breasts... after a moment she collapses on the ground.

You have always wanted to place your hand on her chest to feel her heartbeat but now you have to do this to make it beat again. CPR has to be started immediately.

[stoneagedevil]

If you are still taking requests, I have one for you 🥺 how would Hannibal and Anton react to the reader having cardiomyopathy (aka a weak heart). Because of her condition reader faints a lot and is danger of going into cardiac arrest if she gets scared or frightened. If you don’t feel comfortable taking this request, please feel free to ignore it. Thanks, love your work! :)

IMAGINES/HEADCANONS: Anton Chigurh x Reader | Hannibal Lecter x Reader

Reader with a weak heart/fainting condition.

TW/CW: Fainting, death, guns, cannibalism, reader being described as pretty, medication, break in.

——————

HANNIBAL:

Because you’re so heavily affected when frightened, both would tread extremely lightly around you. Of course, there’s only so much one can do when you lead the lives Hannibal and Anton do.

Hannibal would do everything in his power to keep you from finding out who he truly is. His worst nightmare had turned from his inner circle becoming wary of him, to you finding out, leaving him, fainting, or even going into cardiac arrest. He’d kill anyone for you as to not actually kill you because of your condition.

If the chance comes where you do faint around him, he’s incredibly quick in noticing the signs. If he can smell cancer, he can definitely sense days when your condition is a little worse than usual. He immediately wraps a cautious arm around your waist when you mention you’re feeling lightheaded.

There was an incident where you fainted, nearly clipping your head on the sharp edge of his dining room table. If not your Hannibal practically diving to cup your head, there surely would’ve been a trip to the ER.

As a doctor, he reminds you of your medication, keeping an extra bottle on his person at all times as well. He picks up your prescriptions, always ensuring they’re the right ones, if there is a change in medication, he monitors you in order to make sure you have no adverse reactions to the medicine.

Hannibal takes great care in ensuring that there is no cross contamination when cooking his special cuts, and your dinner. Hannibal already has to be on his toes when seeing a doctor, as tests could reveal his prion disease, induced by his taste for human flesh. But Hannibal also has to be careful with how he feeds you. Hannibal already understands the risks of cannibalism, not particularly concerned about brain damage and the like, but with your condition, a prion disease could make your weak heart that much weaker.

Despite the fact that he enjoys feeding his victims to his inner circle of investigators, he’d sooner cut off his right hand than feed you people. After all, despite being animals in his eyes, no person could ever be good enough for you to eat….

lest it was him being served.

ANTON:

Anton shows his concern for you in a different manner. Under no circumstances are you allowed on his trips. Besides the chance of stray bullets catching in your flesh sending you into a panic that’s sure to affect your heart, you must be kept at a perfect temperature keep your heart healthy. Anton doesn’t let you leave in the cold. He doesn’t let you leave in the sweltering heat. If you need something, he’ll get it himself and probably get it done quicker too.

Anton keeps your medication stocked, checking over the expiration dates, questioning on whether or not you’ve taken your dose for the day.

Before tracking down a target, he makes sure you’ll be well taken care of while he’s away.

There was an incident where a target had managed to track down where you live. In a phone call, Anton felt the tables had been turned on him when his target said that he’d kill his partner. Llewelyn Moss might have failed in saving himself and his wife, but Anton would certainly not.

Your heart leaped at the sound of gunfire shooting out your lock, and you scrambled for the bedroom, quickly locking the door, opening the window, and diving under the bed. You sure as hell weren’t jumping out your window, as you were on the second floor. Your hyperventilating and rising blood pressure led you to feel light headed, your vision fading to black.

At the sight of the lock being shot into pieces, Anton’s chest tightened uncomfortably, and his brow scrunched almost imperceptibly. He kicked open the door quickly checking the corners of the house with his pistol. Of course, he’d navigated your home a billion times over, could even do so with his eyes closed. The man who’d promised to kill you didn’t stand a chance against him, but he wasn’t concerned about that. The concern was whether you stood a chance against the intruder. Checking the pulse of the man he’d shot, he quickly set off to find you.

He came to your bedroom door first, swallowing thickly when he saw the lock shot out as well. He drew his pistol, entering the room swiftly. He took notice of the window, rushing to it and looking down. Nothing. He closed his eyes, trying to listen for a sign of you - and wouldn’t you know it, he heard soft breathing from under the bed. He kneeled, peeking under the bedskirt, his eyes being met with your pretty face.

Of course. You’re smart, while you may not be able to fight very well due to your condition, you were incredibly sly and an excellent trickster. His lips quirked up slightly at the thought of the target looking out the window and deciding to turn back to the living room to find you outside, only to be met with the barrel of Anton’s pistol and a swift shot to the face.

He would drag your unconscious body out from under the bed, lay you softly down onto it, and time your pulse. After making sure you were truly safe, he’d shut the window, and turn the temperature dial to the right level for you and your heart.

He’d then take a seat next to your bed, watching your chest rise and fall until you woke.

——————-

Thank you so much for saying you love my work! I very much appreciate it. I hope I met/exceeded your expectations with this.

[albertasunrise]

Reality Check - Oops Baby

Masterlist

Summary: Being best friends with Frankie meant movie nights, drinks with the guys and a shoulder to cry on when you got your hear broken. He is head over heels for you but you don’t feel the same… yet a drunken mistake will tie your lives together forever!

Relationships: Frankie Morales x Reader

Warnings: Like AO3 I choose to give none. Read at own risk. 18+ (So... I am trying to update my other pics but the reaction I getting from this ones really giving me the motivation to continue it... so thank you and I hope you enjoy this update! ♥️ It's not a super long one but everything gonna become clear I promise!)

Series Masterlist - Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7

“What do you mean I can’t see him right now?” You demanded, glancing down at Emse as you awaited a response from the doctor. 

“He has been in a natural coma for a month and a half. It's going to take him a while before he’s even a little coherent. We also want to monitor him closely over the next few hours. He might be awake but he’s not out of the woods yet!” The doctor stated plainly “I know you want to see him but overwhelming him this soon after he’s woken up and suffered a cardiac arrest is not going to help with his recovery.” The doctor continued, giving your arm a gentle squeeze “If all goes well, you can see him tomorrow.” 

You nodded to show your understanding and then looked at Ben. He looked as frustrated as you felt but you didn’t want to do anything that could risk his recovery. This was all just so difficult to get your head around. 

Your near-death from Esme’s birth, to waking up to learn Frankie had had another major heart attack and was on life support until a heart came available, had been hard to come to terms with. It had been hard to navigate parenthood without him but then it had probably been the same for him at first. 

But, as hard as this had been for you. How desperate you’d been for him to get better and wake up. It had hit Ben the hardest. 

6 weeks earlier…

Ben opened the front door to Frank’s house and was immediately greeted by Emse’s screams. 

“Fish?” He called out as stepped into the dimly lit house. 

When he had received a text from Frankie earlier to say he’s broken up with Mary, Ben had initially been over the moon. But after he’d finished his celebrations, he thought he should probably check on Frankie. The man had cared for Mary after all. So that’s what led Ben to come over. And after knocking a few times a receiving no answer, he let himself in. Not something that was overly unusual. 

What was unusual was to receive no answer from the pilot and to hear Esme screaming. Fish had been a dedicated father from the moment he had brought her home. Something was wrong. 

“Fish?” He called again as he scaled the stairs, his eyes scanning the area for any signs of his friend. 

He came to a stop outside Frankie’s door, Esme’s screams were the loudest from inside and he didn’t even bother knocking. Either Frank was dead asleep or… 

He didn’t wanna consider the alternative. 

“FISH!!” He yelled upon finding his friend on the floor. 

Frankie was sprawled on the floor, on his front with his head to one side. Eyes barely open. Esmerelda was on the floor beside him however looked to be unharmed. Clearly, Frank had managed to put her down gently as he collapsed. 

Ben felt for a pulse and found one. It was weak but it was there. So, he scooped the baby up and lay her in the Moses basket in the corner before returning his attention to Fish, moving him so that he was laying on his back before pulling out his phone and dialling 911. 

He spoke as calmly to the operator as he could whilst monitoring the pilot’s pulse and breathing. Putting the phone on loudspeaker and starting compressions the moment Frankie stopped breathing. 

“Come on man… don’t do this to me.” Ben sobbed as he worked tirelessly to get his friend breathing again “Don’t leave Titch and Esme man…” Benny begged, “Don’t leave me!” 

Finally, just as the paramedics arrived, Frank took a weak breath and then the rest was a blur. Ben called Will and told him to get to the hospital before attending to the crying baby beside him. He didn’t go in the ambulance. He knew he needed to get Esme fed and changed first. But as soon as that was done he had the baby bag packed and he was gone. Praying he wouldn’t be greeted by the news that he’d lost his best friend. 

Present day… 

Benny chewed nervously at his thumbnail as he waited for his friend to wake up. The doctors had lightly sedated him when he had grown more confused as he'd come to. That had been a little over twelve hours ago. Ben had waited at the hospital, sending you home with Esme and promising to ring you the moment he woke up. 

Then three hours ago he was finally allowed to see Fish. The doctors had decided that it would be good for him to see a friendly face as he came to. So He sat and waited patiently for his best friend to come to. His nails taking a beating from how on end his nerves were. 

A soft whimper grabbed his attention and Ben was on his feet in an instant, clutching Frankie's hand as he smiled sweetly at his waking companion. 

"You with my Fishcake?" He asked softly, grinning like a loon when Frank weakly nodded, his eyes cracking open and revealing slivers of those brown orbs Ben had missed so much "Take it easy buddy. I'm here."

Frankie lugged his way to consciousness. It felt like he was walking through treacle. His limbs were heavy and his head filled with cottonwool yet slowly but surely, things got lighter and clearer. Ben waited patiently at his side. Watching as he grew more and more aware as each minute slugged by. 

"Welcome back brother." He said as Frankie finally cracked his eyes open fully and rolled his head to look at him "You gave us a scare." 

"I..." Frankie trailed off as his brows drew together, the memories of what happened slithering back through. 

You, standing there smiling with your outstretched hand. Pleading for him to return to you. Then the lights. The blinding lights and the pain as the car struck him. He was going to see you again. He was supposed to die. 

The sound of his heart rate increasing made Benny call out for help, tears in his eyes as he feared that his friend might code again. 

"Mr Morales, you need to calm down." Urged the doctor as they noted his vitals "This isn't good for you." 

"Why." Frankie sobbed as he started to thrash in the bed "I should have died." 

"Fish, what do you-" 

"I was going to see her again." He sobbed. 

"Who, Mel?" Benny asked as he stepped to his friend's side and clutched his hand, hoping to ground his friend "Frankie, Mel's gone." 

"I was going to see Titch." He all but whispered "I was going back to her." 

This made Benny pause. His brows pulled together in confusion at what his friend had just said. What did he mean he was 'going back to her'?

"What do you mean Fish?" 

"Sir, I think you need to leave." The doctor urged, a nurse then pulling the man from the room so that the doctors could do their work. But he didn't leave the doorway of Frank's room. 

"Mr Morales, do you know where you are?" The doctor asked but Frankie didn't answer, he just continued to sob and his heart monitor continued to chime "Mr Morales, you're in the hospital." The doctor stated "You suffered a massive heart attack. You had a heart transplant but fell into a coma. You have been out for almost two months." 

"No... No, I was hit by a car." Frankie choked "I should have died... I... I wanted to see her again." 

Benny's heart broke as he listened to his friend. 

"You weren't hit by a car Mr Morales." The doctor urged, his head snapped to the nurse to his left and giving her a nod.

"You're lying." 

The nurse then injected something into Frankie's IV and the man's thrashing grew sluggish. Ben could see from where he was standing that his friend's eyes were starting to grow heavy and in a manner of seconds, the room was all most silent again. Slowly but surely the medical staff started to file out, the doctor stopping beside Ben with an unreadable expression on his face. 

Ben waited patiently for the man to speak, his heart pounding against his ribs as his eyes flitted between Fish and his doctor. 

"What happened Doc?" Ben asked, his voice soft and vulnerable. 

"He appears to be confused.' The doctor started "He... It seems that he experienced some sort of vivid dream when he was in his coma. He is convinced he was hit by a car." 

"What can we do?" 

"I think the best thing to do is keep him mildly sedated for now. Just to keep him calm until he gets his head around what actually happened to him." The man said as he scrapped a large hand over his stubbled jaw "He can't afford to get worked up like that again. His heart is still in a fragile state." 

"Do you think seeing his daughter might help?" Benny asked and the doctor nodded. 

"Sure. Anything positive like that should help him relax." 

Benny nodded, giving the doctor a weak smile as his eyes zoned in on his friend. 

"Thanks, doc."

"He'll be out for a few hours." The man said as he placed a friendly hand on Ben's arm "Get a coffee and something to eat. You're no good to him if you're not taking care of yourself." 

...

Your heart leapt out of your chest as your phone started to ring loudly from the table beside you. Noting Ben's name on the screen, you answered it immediately as your pulsed raced. 

"Ben?" 

"He woke up." 

"He did?" You choked as you covered your mouth with a shaky hand, trying to smother the sob that threatened to escape your lips. 

"He was all confused and shit. Got a bit worked up and they had to sedate him again." Ben said, his voice wobbling as he spoke "They wanna keep him mildly sedated for now. Something about keeping him calm as he comes around. I guess being on pause for nearly two months can screw your brain up a little." 

You chuckled at that. Your coma hasn't quite gone on that long but you had certainly been a little confused when you'd woken up. 

Six weeks earlier... 

Your sensations returned in waves but everything sounded muffled and felt heavy. Your limbs seemed to be made of lead, your fingers were all that seemed to want to obey your commands. The sounds around you were distorted. Almost like you were hearing them from underwater. 

You managed to moan, hoping that it would give you a little more control over your body but alas you remained somewhat pinned in place, so you drifted to sleep again in the hopes that when you woke again things would be a little clearer. 

...

Benny had wanted to shout from the rooftops when you'd started to show signs of waking up. The past few days had been hell for him. He and Will had split their time between your room and Frankie's. Neither of them wanted to leave either party on their own and when you started to twitch and moan, Benny finally started to feel a semblance of hope. So he clung to that, along with your hand as he waited for you to open your eyes. 

That happened three hours later. 

"Ben?" Your question was more of a whisper but he heard it all the same. 

He placed Esme in her Pram and practically sprinted to your side, smiling sweetly at you as you blinked up at him. 

"Hey, you." He said sweetly "Have a nice nap?" 

"What happened?" You asked, your voice getting a little stronger but still scratching from weeks of disuse. 

Benny grabbed the water bottle from the side table and popped in the straw that had been sitting beside it. Then bringing it to you your lips, he cupped your head and helped you lift it so that you could take soothing sips of the tepid liquid. You held your hand up when you'd had your fill and Benny placed the bottle down with one hand as his other gently lay your head back against the pillow. 

"What happened?" You repeated and he sighed, how brow pulling together as he searched for the words.

"You uh... You haemorrhaged." He stated plainly "Pretty bad. It was touch and go for a bit but you fought... Small but mighty." He chuckled as his hand started to stroke your hair "You have been out for a few weeks but you needed the rest."

"Frankie and the baby okay?" This question made Ben's heart shatter. Standing he turned to the pram that was just out of your eye line and scooped up Esme, kissing her little nose when she started to fuss. 

"I got little Esme right here." Ben stated as he brought your daughter into view and you sobbed at the sight of her. A head of brown hair and the cutest little plump cheeks. 

"Oh, my angel." You choked as you press the button on your bed so that you were more upright, accepting your daughter into your waiting arms with a smile "Oh look at you." You cooed, memorising everything about her "You look just like your Papi." You chuckled as you looked at Ben and beamed "Where is Fish?" 

Ben's expression grew solemn again and there was no hiding it from you now. 

"Ben?... Where is Francisco?" You pushed and he sobbed. 

"He's um... He's here." 

"Where?" 

"Titch?" He pleaded but you needed an answer. 

"Benny... Tell me where he is!"

"He uh... He suffered a massive heart attack." Ben started, his eyes settling on Esme as she slept in your arms "They uh... They got him on life support. Waitin' for a heart." 

"No..." You trailed off, tears flowing freely as you looked down you your daughter, envious of how clueless she was to all this. 

"He'll die without one." 

"No." You sobbed harder, your head dropping as you screwed your eyes shut and let yourself fall apart "We were supposed to do this together." You cried "We were supposed to be a family." 

Present day... 

You arrived at the hospital as soon as you could. You'd thrown a bag together for Esme, grabbed her pram and left, desperate to see Frankie awake. 

His room was empty when you arrived. You looked around, trying to catch sight of him but coming up blank. He must've gone to get coffee. You pushed Esme's pram into Franks's room, tucking it in the corner so it didn't get in the way and then you took your place at Frankie's side. You didn't have to wait long for him to wake. 

He was sluggish, his eyes fluttering open and closed for a while. The sedatives were making it hard for him to surface. 

"That's it, Frankie." You said softly as you squeezed his hand and smiled sweetly at him "Come back to me." 

This statement was like a bucket of ice water over Frankie's head. His head snapped towards you and his eyes filled with tears as he seemed to study every inch of your face. 

"Titch." He choked, blinking furiously in an attempt to keep himself awake and you nodded. 

"That's right, just come back to me my Frankie." 

"I tried." He choked and you grew confused "I'm so sorry Titch." He sobbed and you stepped back as a hand pulled you away from him "Why won't you leave me be." 

"Frankie-"

"Just leave me alone." He cried "Please..." 

You turned on your heel and practically sprinted towards the door, colliding with Ben's solid chest. He scooped Esme up with practised ease with one arm and led you out the room with the other, leaving the doctors and nurses to work Franky.

"He... I don't..." You can't find the words, too heartbroken to string a coherent sentence together so Ben just holds you till you calm down. Giving himself a chance to figure out how was going to tell you what he needed to. 

"Titch... There's uh... Well, there's something you should know." He said when your cries finally quietened "Fish he uh... Well, it seems like he experienced a pretty vivid dream in his coma." 

You looked up at him with a bemused expression, head tilting to one side as you waited for him to continue. 

"When he woke up, he was rambling about getting hit by a car." He continued "I guess that's what he'd dreamt just before he woke up." 

"What are you trying to tell me, Ben?" You pushed and Ben let out a long sigh as he looked down at Esme in his arm. 

"Frankie thinks you're uh... Well, he-"

"Spit it out, Ben." You grumbled, unable to take the suspense any longer. 

"He thinks you're dead." 

Next

For updates follow @albertasunrise-ficsblog

[pralinesims]

List 5 facts about a favorite sim of yours, and send this to simblrs whose sims you adore 💜

@salemsimss @honeybeenrw @sharpiegirl Thanks so much everyone for sending these!!! <3

3 asks, 3 OC's to pick out facts for!

Although straight, he (jokingly, but also not) likes to consider himself as "metrosexual". Takes much pride in the fact that he puts more effort into his looks than most of his peers.

He is SO. EXTREMELY. BAD. at lying. Literally almost never able to hide stuff, constantly bubbling like a fountain of truth. The only aspects he's kinda good at hiding are some remnants of the trauma he's experienced during his late teens/early twenties.

Writes the most annoying reviews you could think of whenever he buys something online and shares his experiences with the thing in question. At least he is honest, right?

Though he's a pretty good driver, it would be healthier for him if he simply wouldn't. The road rage he experiences sometimes can be off the charts, and even if he doesn't hurt other people, he legit is at the risk of a cardiac arrest due to his built up energy at times.

Always thinks about more methods of earning money + securing his & his families futures. Besides some of the active work he does, he's trying to write cookbooks and self-motivational guides as a side hustle.

Got married when she was 29 years old, to the love of her life, named Mateo. He was her first boyfriend, and although it was a bit of an on and off relationship at the beginning, she wouldn't ever wish for another husband.

She's a loving mother to two toddlers (which coincidentally also are twins, just like Julieta herself), her daughters Maria and Gabriella. Would burn the whole world down for their wellbeings.

Intensely fears swimming and also to an extent, water. When she was 11 years old, she almost drowned, and since then she usually tries to stay clear of bigger pools or masses of it.

Her favorite animals are birds, specifically the extremely round, fat and fluffy looking ones. In her freetime she also likes to volunteer at animal shelters.

Just like her brother, she is a bit of a fitness nut, though not to such an extreme extent. They always used to play different types of sports together when they were younger. Especially her volleyball skills are so good to the point at being at a pro level.

Consumes an obscene amount of coffee. He probably wouldn't drink as much if it wasn't constantly available at the office he works at, but still. Coffee truly runs through his veins.

Speaking of coffee, he's not picky with the ones he drinks, except that they have to be hot. Iced coffee, although drinkable, never has been his preferred choice.

When he was younger, he really badly wanted to become a tattoo artist, though later he's fridged the idea, because his interest and appreciation for tattoos in general has ceased within some years.

Reality TV is his guilty pleasure. If you'd ask him to tell some random facts about the trashiest show you could think of, he'd immediately be able to reference a whole list of weird happenings.

Collects an excessive amount of useless trinkets. A drawer too many at his place is bursting, but one excuse is that something could always be needed "if an emergency should occur". (real life MacGyver, my ass...)

[lonelynpc]

Fanfic question!

What is a code blue like in real life? Is it as chaotic as it looks on TV?

code blues or MET calls are not as chaotic as you think.

i'll explain terms that might be a bit confusing at the bottom as well!

first, let me breakdown the process of calling a code itself:

somebody notices a patient is deteriorating, unresponsive, vitals outside of parameters, c/o chest pain or other emergency, or basically just that there is something to be concerned about upon examination or from other indicators (e.g. alarms, verbal reporting, visual assessment, etc.)

the red or yellow button on the wall is pressed, activating the MET call. the colour of the button depends on the hospital and sometimes even the ward. it is always clearly labelled as the emergency button.

that patient is about to get extremely popular. anyone who's available will come into the room, the first to respond will have the MET call trolley in tow usually, etc, and people will keep coming in until the alarm is deactivated.

the alarm is deactivated once the appropriate amount of people are in there. the coding patient is not the only one on the ward, there need to be staff available for the other patients too.

everyone gets a job.

criteria for MET calls is not always just respiratory or cardiac arrest! here's the criteria i am most familiar with, it can be one or all of them:

their airway is "threatened".

all respiratory arrest meaning resp rate is <5 or >30. SpO2 is <90% and/or there is an increase in 02 requirements.

all cardiac arrests meaning pulse is <40 or >140. SBP is <90 or >200.

a sudden decrease in neurological function. GCS or AVPU indicating nil response to non-painful stimuli or unresponsive entirely. repeated or prolonged seizures.

if you are worried about the patient and they don't fit the above criteria.

i've seen people call a code because they needed an extra set of hands fast.

i will add more about how codes work under the cut:

codes are fast but people don't sprint. when you go for a run, generally you're out of breath when you stop, what use will the team be if they're panting and out of breath when they arrive? don't get me wrong, we're not taking our sweet time but we need to be smart about responding because you're no help if you need to catch your breath.

some cases might be flagged as having the potential for a MET call, in these cases the appropriate trolleys will be in the room already and there will be more staff than usual. e.g. in theatre, usually there's about 5-6 of us but in a case flagged with a risk of major haemorrhage, there'd be at least an extra 2 per team (anaesthetics and surgical). this is also flagged on the surgical safety checklist for accountability and to make the team aware.

we take turns doing chest compressions and anybody on the team can do them, i know in shows they like to pretend it's only the doctors but that is wrong. multiple people are assigned this role and sub out after about 2 minutes to prevent fatigue. everybody in the room is trained in CPR.

if the patient is not breathing, chest compressions will be started by the initial responder after calling the code.

if the patient is not breathing, they will be "bagged" which is bag valve mask ventilation, bag-valve ventilation, manual resuscitator and probably a few other names. we can also attach the valve to the end of an endotracheal tube or other airway devices if in situ.

it's someone's job to get loved ones out of the room. in shows, you always see relatives watching a code, this wouldn't happen. loved ones are taken out of the room. they'll usually be taken to get a drink or to a family room.

there is always someone managing the airway, in my department that is me.

CPR is really tiring. physically and emotionally.

the response and treatment all really depends on the reason for the call. there are trolleys for specific emergencies (e.g. MH and paediatric emergencies).

there will be someone taking notes.

communication is crucial. instructions are clear, people communicate findings clearly, etc. e.g. "resuming compressions," will be announced to everyone in the room.

"if you don't need to be here, get out." any non-essential personnel will be removed from the room, we kick students out of the room if we think they're just going to get in the way.

some people might crack jokes. it sounds bad but everybody responds to traumatic situations differently and a MET call is traumatic.

i've met several people who will sing stayin' alive to help people doing CPR maintain effective compressions.

everything is very fluid and well rehearsed.

generally, the doctor is always the one to call time of death but under certain circumstances, in certain locations and with specific qualifications, a nurse can. i don't see it because of the department i work in, there's always a doctor available.

after a MET call:

patient will be transferred to ICU if required.

loved ones are updated and brought back into the room if possible. this will be done by a doctor.

there is a staff debrief to discuss what happened and how we're feeling as we come down from the adrenaline rush.

important note: DNR patients are different.

it would look very chaotic to somebody who is not a worker but to us, it's organised and calm.

the first time i ever responded to a MET call, i remember thinking, "wow i hope my pants don't split" while i was doing CPR.

explanations:

Sp02 is your peripheral oxygen saturation which is typically measured on a finger.

SBP is systolic blood pressure and is the first number you see on a blood pressure reading. a BP of 120/80 is 120 systolic and 80 diastolic.

GCS is the Glasgow coma scale which is an indicator of a patients level of consciousness (LOC). it tests ocular, oral and motoric response individually on a scale. GCS is reported as numbers, e.g. "GCS 15, E4, V5, M6," it is important to break down the values so that the deficits are clearly identified. i can make a separate post about LOC and testing if anyone would like.

AVPU scale is Alert, Verbal, Pain, Unresponsive. it's a simplification of GCS.

painful stimuli are how we assess LOC in patients not responding to normal stimuli such as verbal commands or gentle physical stimuli. the most common painful stimuli you see are the trapezius squeeze which is gripping the trapezius muscle in the shoulder, sternal rub which is sort of grinding your knuckles over the sternum, and mandibular pressure which is stimulating the mandibular nerve in the angle of the jaw. in my field, we use mandibular pressure unless contraindicated by a head or spinal injury. we are checking to see if the patient will open their eyes, groan and/or respond verbally, or move to guard the site and/or move in discomfort.

in situ is just "in place" generally. "IV in situ". in anatomy, it has a different meaning but this is the meaning i am referring to here.

[blubushie]

ur really pressed abt the driving thing arent u

Yeah I've seen a lot of car accidents in my day. You see enough kids killed in accidents and it starts getting to you.

Graphic description of an accident below the cut. Read at your own risk. (Kids were not involved.)

Worst was a bikie who got an emergency thoracotomy in-field after suffering a cardiac arrest because an SUV next to him didn't signal, tried to overtake him suddenly, glanced the front wheel of his bike and flipped him over the front and he got hit by the car behind him who was basically tailgating the poor bastard so he didn't have time to stop. It was a perfect storm of idiots that probably ended up killing someone.

Happened to be in the right place and right time because there was an ambo maybe 4 cars behind us. Bikie ended up lying in front of my ute so I braked and got out to check on him and started CPR when I realised he was in the middle of agonal breathing and in cardiac arrest, car behind me got out and signalled the ambo who came and grabbed him, I watched them start the thoracotomy and the girl (who I guess had the smallest hands) got her hand into his chest to manually pump his heart because his entire sternum was basically mash potatoes under my hands so normal CPR wouldn't work.

I don't reckon he lived. And I had nightmares about driving for weeks. That shit was traumatising.

Also saw a woman get hit in a zebra crossing in a 25kmh residential zone. Wouldn't have been much a problem if the car had actually been going 25kmh, but he was about 30 over the speed limit. Broke her tibia and femur on impact. The screams stuck with me but she lived.

Much like OSHA, every road law is written in blood.

[fakenewsfactcheck]

What IS normal is that in some cultures, statements like that are made almost poetically: not meaning that there are literally children dying of heart attacks, but that it feels as though children are dying of heart attacks, dying of fear, in these grave and tragic circumstances. And in other cultures, such statements are either made as facts, or as "close enough" to the facts.

And I think that OP was speaking poetically, metaphorically, expressing what feels like a deeper truth, rather than presenting something you can fact-check.

I also think that the majority of the 17,500 notes on here are assuming it's literally true.

Unfortunately, what is also normal now is that people will immediately, 100% believe a completely unsourced factual statement that Palestinian children are dying from heart attacks. With zero evidence. Zero numbers. Zero examples.

Zero critical thinking, is what I'm saying, as nicely as I can. I realize that people are believing this out of an immense amount of concern and compassion.

But also, it's very clearly not true.

Heart attacks aren't caused by fear. Heart attacks aren't caused by nervous system exhaustion. Not without preexisting heart problems.

And no part of Palestine has experienced anything like near 24 hour bombardment for even one month, much less eleven.

If you go to Google News and put in, say, "Gaza" "children" "heart attacks" --

Okay, so one Israeli child died from a heart attack. Triggered by the rocket alert sirens. A few weeks after Israel was invaded by terrorists who tortured, mutilated, and burned their way across an area larger than Gaza in just one day.

But the fact that the shock of yet another siren caused her heart attack (in a country that has gotten an average of 4 missile attacks per day since 2001) probably means she had an unknown preexisting condition.

Dr. Noa Rosenfeld, the manager of the emergency children’s ward at Assuta, told the Ynet news site that incidents of heart attacks are rare, but some people are “very sensitive to adrenaline in high doses that can cause them a cardiac problem.”

Nothing else in the news about heart attacks in children. Not from any source, from CNN to Al-Jazeera.

I did find one about strokes in children during war:

"We see strokes in children aged 12 to 13,” Liashko said. “Before the war, such cases were really unique. But now, our health system has children with strokes.”

Inna Ivanenko, Director of Patients of Ukraine, the nation’s largest patient organization, added in an interview she knows of even younger stroke victims.

“Ten,” she said quietly.

The surge in pediatric strokes is just one facet of the escalating health crisis affecting Ukrainian civilians, the country’s health minister said. Years of war have left the entire population, not just children, at higher risk due to extreme stress and untreated post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD).

“People have strokes 10 to 15 years earlier,” Liashko said. “Also heart attacks, 10 to 15 years earlier.”

If you all remember the months and months of "Israel has killed more people in Gaza than Russia did in Ukraine!" You might be thinking something like, "if this is happening in Ukraine, it's gotta be happening in Gaza too!"

First, Ukraine is MUCH bigger than Gaza. That means a MUCH larger number of children, which means more tweens who might have strokes.

Second, Russia'a current invasion of Ukraine has been going on for two and a half years. And it actually began its attacks on Ukraine ten years ago.

Third, its attacks are far closer to genocide.

Genocide often includes forced population transfer:

The transfer of hundreds of thousands of people from Ukraine is part of a deliberate and systemic strategy, laid out in Russian government documents.

An “emergency mass order” describes the “distribution” of 100,000 Ukrainians to some of the most remote and impoverished regions of Russia. None was to be sent to the capital, Moscow....

One refugee, Bohdan Honcharov, told the AP that about 50 Ukrainians he traveled with were sent to Siberia, so far away that they effectively disappeared with little chance of escape.

Genocide typically includes the attempt to erase all evidence a culture even existed:

Eight months after Mariupol fell into Russian hands, Russia is eradicating all vestiges of Ukraine from it – along with the evidence of war crimes buried in its buildings, such as the famed Drama Theater where demolition started Thursday.

The few open schools teach a Russian curriculum, phone and television networks are Russian, the Ukrainian currency is dying out, and Mariupol is now in the Moscow time zone.

On the ruins of the old Mariupol, a new Russian city is rising, with materials from at least one European company, The Associated Press found....

Russian authorities in October dismantled Mariupol’s memorial to victims of the Holodomor, the Soviet-engineered famine in the 1930s that killed millions of Ukrainians, according to video posted on Russian television. They also painted over two murals commemorating victims of Russia’s 2014 attack on Ukraine, images obtained by the AP show.

And most relevant here, genocide involves killing a massive percentage of a group: usually between 30%-90%.

The repeated statement that Israel had killed more people was, factually, entirely untrue. It was based on the UN's count of deaths that it had been able to independently verify, something that has largely stalled in both places because war.

As of August 2024, the UN has verified almost 12,000 deaths in Ukraine. But in Mariupol alone, just in the first three months of 2022, the AP found that the death count was probably over 75,000. Which is still almost twice the deaths in Gaza over the past year.

Back in May [2022], when the city finally fell, the municipal government in exile estimated 25,000 people at a minimum had died. But at least three people in the city since June say the number killed is triple that or more, based on conversations with workers documenting body collection from the streets for the Russian occupation authorities.

In short, there are many reasons that Ukraine is more likely than Gaza to see children having strokes.

I'm just giving that sort of detailed comparison so people can understand why there also haven't been reports of children in Gaza having strokes. (And yes, I did check.)

I know, nobody will see this. But in the hopes that I will one day be wrong, there it is.

palestinian children are dying of heart attacks because of the constant fear and nervous system exhaustion of near 24 hr bombardment. for ELEVEN FULL MONTHS palestinian children have been dying of heart attacks. dying from fear.

[scentedchildnacho]

The tinninitus did stop on its own......i had chronic cardiac arrest from the ground sleeping and shoulder injuries depressed my heart....but my heart could start again even under really severe sex harassment....so blessed Emmanuel God is with us though ...

No i don't think it will murder black and white aggressives they leave it's the disgusting stinky brown street rapists this gay American author I read in Paris explained to me are people who killed their boss if wages don't constantly increase and just leave them alone..... They don't leave if aggressive....

People do hang people here for murder

Stinky disgusting discolored street bisex browns.....

The punk show better produce it....

The white aggressive....she appeared to show that if she wouldn't become Irish she wouldn't have anything in life so that's the poo in the pants....and lynch syndrome if they wouldn't foster whites so closely under British people if they always had white or indigenous people they wouldn't have to be this way

If Irish people weren't around whites mazappa would have always been gone and whites could have had indigenous peoples take over public systems priorly and she wouldn't have to be that way

It was british researchers in Mexico on cultural anthropology that started creating feed muscle males with feminine face....mazappa didn't like those humiliations much till cars rocket bomb noise us to create jails

Muscle male angels I find it the most dog gross of creations...ever....males that retain their bite research phobias and refuse too much weight on their bones are a lot more pleasant

It's Irish its a scary place with too few clients or consumers so I don't go there

James Joyce dublin was a horrible depressed place to claim a modernity

I know their produced because it's Irish people and the mission inn and they want to use work spaces for their real entertainment and so mazappa records it all every single weird creation mazappa gathers encapsulates and records

Stinky street browns prints their own punk disease band shirts with the viral shape as band logo....discolored street browns are the rapeists

Creepy discolored browns aren't quite charles manson but unsuspecting people will need to be delivered from anywhere those creepy bisex playboy freaks go

Browns rape yellows rip whites bludgeon and blacks sneak

Well if they all have becoming something personality disorders I must also have a personality disorder people notice is maybe possessed by English in some way....the Irish wouldn't let people from the states experiencing documentation cruelty talk to an immigrationist so black and tans

The shelter is in an industrial area so it's probably been sued for sex harassment since the 1970s...they needed work to support their families and male workers would want to turn it into sex obligations it's probably well documented as illegal and why staff is able to perform well rehearsed lines

I don't report anything to staff that's a stupid suicidal suggestion to take staff off their job in slowly helping different ego structures form ..

The staff is scary it doesn't produce desired outcomes unless it's anti social needs are addressed as needing anti social clinical strategies

Their anti socials and anti socials need clinical discourse not case history and excessive litigiousness

That and staff has had to interact with male staff and they don't come up to me and tell me what male staff did to them so I dont bother them with what bunk did to me

I mostly listen to that little black guys before dinner reefer speech to notice it's the exact opposite of correct conduct in the situation

These areas people will treat you better if you carry a baggie of okay marijuana and give some like asked for a tobacco cigarette...without care about tip or fee

If people tell you to not have at risk sex go directly to a nice bar with good cameras and 🆔 requests on a night pass and have free at risk sex with someone you like so these horrible coach creeps stop claiming they own your gender

That's access center staff they have plans to cop rape you and street sell you and permanently deprive you of your property so under immigration haze cruelties go exhibit intentional at risk behaviours so reform owns you not people who rape immigrants for a living

If they scream at you to take a shower daily maximum water benefit is five showers a week....do not allow people to make you crowd shower areas bunk does get phobic and intimidated by it

If people scream at you to wash your hands your at risk of skin rips and tears and are in need of bacterial education not bacteria kills

If they tell you to forcibly leave deliberately interact with management to not force terrorism or disturbing other shelters with quick unnecessary population changes that shock and cause disease

If they tell you to not masturbate those are the gross multi use blue mats with disinfectant washes....try out a different ego structure masturbation on gross multi use don't put your nasty fluid and sea faring desires on the hotel sheets those labors are your refinements not your marriage bed to own

I dont recommend exposing your body here though cameras everywhere and gross coach characters out of a.l.p.s....in the access center and they will want to cop rape you if allowed any perverted data

[leaving-anorexia-behind]

19/09/24

TW

I've been in an eating disorders unit in London for 17 days now. The first week I really struggled to comply with my meal plan. I ate half the starter plan (around the same as what I'd been having before) and lost a further kg. I found it strangely tolerable, most likely since I was eating the amount I could tolerate at the time, I also had my stash of sweeteners in a hairbrush in my room and went to the garden (twice).

On the fourth day, I was asked by my new consultant psychiatrist to come with her to the clinic room. I sat on the bed waiting. She looked concerned and told me my lithium levels were too high, I wasn't too fussed, I was sure that could be amended. Only she went through symptom after symptom. The only ones I had weren't related to it (dizziness and chest pain to which I'd been experiencing for some time so wasn't worried about anyway).

So asked how I was getting on with my meal plan, to which I said I was struggling. She got to the point quickly and asked if I'd consider the NG. I said I couldn't since it had gone so wrong before and didn't want it to happen again. She nodded and we spoke about my physical health as she was saying I was very unwell and at such a low body weight. I told her I was ok and was probably wasting a bed here. So, she told me that normally she gives longer but she needed to apply for a mental health act assessment as my physical health was too unstable.

I felt sad and frustrated, but in a way I had already had a feeling it may be suggested. I saw my dad that afternoon, where I got a cherry pepsi max and we caught up with each others week before I went to the garden for my second supervised sit down on a bench with another patient. The OT came over and said she'd do an assessment with on Monday, to which I said I probably wouldn't be there for (I was planning to self- discharge the next morning prior to the MHA assessment).

I thought nothing more of it when my psychiatrist came knocking at my door with a member of staff, a mixture of concern and irritation on her face. She said she had just received a call from the OT saying I was going to abscond (I never said that) right before she was about to go home. I explained I was going to pack my things that night and self-discharge the following day as I wasn't using my bed well and didn't feel I needed to be there. Again, she spoke about how physically compromised I was and combined with my lithium levels I was very unwell.

With that, she said she wanted me on 1:1, I reminded her I was a voluntary patient and had the right to refuse that. She agreed, then put me on a section 52 (holding section) as well as stuck me on a 1:1. That was not the response I thought she would have. I had hoped she would have been irritated enough to tell me to just leave and I could have gone. It clearly didn't work out that way!

The following day, just before lunch I was called into the MDT room where two people were waiting (a man and a woman) the man, Seb introduced himself as an AMHP and the lady was the psychiatrist. They were there for a MHA assessment and I inwardly groaned. It didn't last too long, they asked a few questions, before saying how my consultant psych feels I'm at high risk of cardiac arrest among other life threatening complications as a result of "severe" anorexia and very low body weight, especially combined with high lithium levels. Not to mention the fact I wanted to leave.

They went on to say I had a severe lack of insight to the severity of my anorexia and placed me on the dreaded section 3. They didn't even ask me to leave the room so they could discuss, just straight onto a section 3 there and then.

Since then it's been a very testing time. I've managed to mostly avoid the NG, only having it once last week which was enough to cause flashbacks and dissociation. I've gained 1.6kg in 1 week and completely panicked. I can feel the weight gain already and I absolutely hate it.

[tartrazeen]

Cough CPR is not a new procedure: it has been around for years and has been used successfully in isolated emergency cases where victims realized they were on the verge of fainting and about to go into full cardiac arrest (their hearts were about to stop) and knew exactly how to cough so as to keep enough oxygen-enriched blood circulating to prevent them from losing consciousness until help could be sought, or they were under the direct care of physicians who recognized the crises as they were taking place and were on hand to instruct patients step by step through the coughing. Even were the afflicted to correctly recognize they were experiencing the sort of cardiac event where cough CPR could help, without specific training to hit the right rhythms their coughing could turn mild heart attacks into fatal ones.

Snopes

Rather than risk killing yourself with cough CPR, those experiencing a heart attack should heed the advice of physicians the world over — down a couple of Aspirin as an emergency remedy. Doctors believe that during the early stages of a heart attack, Aspirin — which is known to prevent blood platelets from sticking together — can prevent a clot from getting bigger. In 1991 Dr. Michael Vance, president of the American Board of Emergency Medicine, recommended that people who think they are having a heart attack should "Call 911, then take an Aspirin." Oh, and it probably makes a great deal of sense to chew the Aspirin before swallowing. The sooner it is dispersed by the stomach, the sooner it gets to where it is needed. During a heart attack, waiting for the enteric coating surrounding the pill to break down naturally could be a mistake.

Also Snopes

When you are alone and have a heart attack. What are you gonna do then?

Take a 2 minute break and read this:

Let's say it's 5:25 pm and you're driving home after an unusually hard day's work.

You are really tired and frustrated. All of a sudden your chest pains. They are starting to radiate in the arm and jaw. It feels like being stabbed in the chest and heart. You're only a few miles away from the nearest hospital or home.

Unfortunately you don't know if you can make it..

Maybe you've taken CPR training, but the person running the course hasn't told you how to help yourself.

How do you survive a heart attack when you're alone when it happens? A person who is feeling weak and whose heart is beating hard has only about 10 seconds before losing consciousness.

1. But you can help yourself by coughing repeatedly and very strongly! Deep breaths before every cough. Coughing should be repeated every second until you arrive at the hospital or until your heart starts to beat normally.

2. Deep breathing gives oxygen to your lungs and coughing movements boost the heart and blood circulation. Heart pressure also helps to restore a normal heartbeat. Here's how cardiac arrest victims can make it to the hospital for the right treatment

3. Cardiologists say if someone gets this message and passes it on to 10 people, we can expect to save at least one life.

4. FOR WOMEN: You should know that women have additional and different symptoms. Rarely have crushing chest pain or pain in the arms. Often have indigestion and tightness across the back at the bra line plus sudden fatigue.

[psychosomatist]

Had to go to the ER last night and today I'm barely functioning. I know I'm having heart issues based on my symptoms but the ER was busy and I'm not sure if they took it seriously. My labs looked normal and so did chest xray. Ecg was normal but it was short and happened before the onset of the worst symptoms. In my chart they wrote that I had no chest pain and didn't list most of my symptoms. I'm at risk for cardiac arrest based on having an eating disorder and these symptoms have happened for awhile but never like this. Honestly I'm tired of the messaging that you should call your doctor about shit like this or go to the ER because it doesn't usually make a difference. I was there for 12 hours before talking to a doctor and they didn't monitor my heart rate while I was there or make a note of most of my symptoms. They did send me home with a heart monitoring thing.

I'm afraid though bc I don't really trust the medical establishment in general to listen or help and I also have limited capacity to think straight/organize/advocate for myself. And I was having cardiac symptoms for 12 hours and am at risk and they didn't monitor my heart rate or do a second ecg like they said and I was too out of it to even ask. I'm still having chest and shoulder pain which I usually don't. I don't know if I'm overreacting to things or not. Part of me is like I shouldn't have left res but it's not like they gave a fuck there. I still just saw a doctor once a week who ignored what I told him and wrote the wrong stuff in my chart notes. They didn't have equipment on site to deal with something like that, it's just more likely that someone would be able to give me CPR or see if something happened to me. So I guess that does matter. Ugh.

I hated res but I didn't leave because I wanted to. I left because they couldn't give me accommodations for my autism which meant I was totally unregulated. I tried to advocate for myself and didn't get far. And now I'm fucking burned out. I don't really have anyone I trust to help me in a consistent way with this and I don't want to worry people. The only person I told some of what was happening is Julio last night. I think probably because i knew he wouldn't freak out but would still be kind and also bc we have a line in the sand rn of what kind of role we have in each others life so it felt like I could talk to him about it and not anything else.

Although he has offered to bring me stuff to the house and said he wished he could keep me company last night and has encouraged me to advocate for myself and was going to spend 90 min on the bus both ways on Xmas to come see me in treatment but the bus didn't run. So yeah. It's not like he doesn't care or wouldn't be there.

When people offer to help I don't really believe them and I don't want to worry them.

When it is suggested to me to go to the doctor I've just been like why? They can't do much to help me and I always come away from it feeling like shit about myself.

[pashterlengkap]

Surprising study indicates trans women in gender-affirming care contract HIV less often

New research published in The Lancet HIV indicates that transgender women who receive gender-affirming medical care are less likely to contract and transmit HIV. This surprising finding is probably due to the health education trans women get while recieving such care. The study revealed that about one in 200 trans women in the U.S. contract the immunodeficiency virus each year. --- Related Stories Biden administration sues Tennessee over trans gender-affirming care ban The Department of Justice filed a lawsuit against the state, saying that the law violates transgender people’s Equal Protection rights. --- Researchers, led by Dr. Andrea Wirtz of John Hopkins University, followed 1,312 HIV-negative trans women in-person and online in six U.S. cities including Atlanta, Baltimore, Boston, Miami, New York City, and Washington, DC, and through a digital mode in 72 smaller eastern and southern U.S. cities. The ongoing study started in 2018 and included in-person or online health check-ups. As of May 2022, 15 individuals had tested positive for HIV infection. Of those women, seven had never taken pre-exposure prophylaxis (PrEP), and seven had previously been on PrEP but were no longer taking it. One participant declined to answer the question. The findings suggest a deficit of HIV education and access to medication. Nine women (or 0.33 percent of the total study group) died annually from circumstances including murder and suicide, overdose, cardiac arrest, another health condition, and unknown causes. None of the deaths were related to HIV. Study participants who sought gender-affirming and transition care were less likely to contract HIV or to die during the study. Researchers attributed this finding to the medical support that accompanies those services, which decreased women’s risks of HIV and death. More vulnerable women may be less likely or able to access gender-affirming care and the medical support that comes with it, the study said. Research also revealed Black women were more likely to contract HIV over the course of the study. Latinx trans women and trans women who had been arrested within the last 12 months also had a higher incidence of death. Risk factors that increased the likelihood of HIV and death included stimulant drug use, being in a relationship with a cisgender man, and living in the South. According to the Centers for Disease Control (CDC), as of 2019, 19 percent of new HIV diagnoses were among cisgender and trans women. An estimated 14% of trans women in the U.S. are now living with HIV. The Human Rights Campaign calculates that trans women are almost 49 times more likely to test positive for HIV than the general population. Researchers said the study was a chance, beyond their focus on HIV prevention, to address those indicated risk factors as part of a holistic approach to help vulnerable populations. They wrote, “A singular focus on HIV prevention is a missed opportunity to address other threats to the lives of people prioritized in HIV services and programming.” HIV diagnoses are one of the six indicators employed in the public health campaign entitled “Ending the HIV Epidemic in the United States.  http://dlvr.it/SnDpvn