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ideallegaltranslation · 2 years ago

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Top Features of Ideal Translation Services That Will Boost Your Business Growth

If you are looking for professional translation services to boost your business growth, consider the top features of ideal translation services. Some top features of ideal translation services include accurate translation, timely delivery, and reasonable pricing.

Translation services that are fast and accurate

There are many translation services available on the internet, but not all of them are equal in terms of speed and accuracy. If you need a translation done quickly and correctly, choosing a reliable service with a good reputation is essential.

One such service is Translation Services USA. They have a team of experienced translators dedicated to quickly and accurately providing quality translations. They also provide a money-back satisfaction guarantee, ensuring you receive the best service.

Customized translation services for your unique requirements

When you need a translation, you need it done right, and that's where a translation service comes in. Many translation services are available, but finding one tailored to your specific needs is important. Some translation services are general, and can translate any type of document, while others are specialized and can only translate specific documents.

When choosing a translation service, it's essential to consider the language you need translated, the type of document, and the level of translation needed. For example, if you need a document translated from Spanish to English, you'll need a translation service specializing in Spanish to English translations. If you need a document translated from English to French, you'll need a translation service specializing in English to French.

Some translation services offer a variety of translation levels, from basic translations that are done quickly and cheaply, to in-depth translations that are more accurate and take longer to complete. It's important to choose the level of translation that is right for your needs.

When choosing a translation service, it's important to ensure that the service has a good reputation and is reliable. You should also ask for references from past clients.

Finding the right translation service to meet your specific needs is important when you need a translation. By considering the language, the type of document, and the level of translation needed, you can find the translation service that is right for you.

Affordable translation services

If you're looking for a quality translation service but don't want to break the bank, there are a few affordable options. One is to use a translation agency offering a sliding scale based on income. This way, you only pay what you can afford.

Another option is to use a translation service that offers lower rates for smaller projects. This can be a great way to save money on smaller translations.

Finally, you can also try using a free online translation service. While the quality of these translations may not be as good as those from a professional translation service, they can be a great option if you only need a short document or are on a tight budget.

Ideal Translation offers comprehensive language services in the UAE, specializing in website, media, medical, and legal translation in the Gulf region. Their expertise in website translation UAE ensures that businesses can effectively reach and engage with their target audience in the UAE. With their media translation services, Ideal Translation helps media organizations accurately convey their messages across different languages, ensuring effective communication. Moreover, their medical translation services provide accurate translations of medical documents, research papers, and patient records, crucial for the healthcare industry. Additionally, Ideal Translation excels in legal translation in the Gulf, providing precise translations of legal documents, contracts, and agreements. With their commitment to accuracy and quality, Ideal Translation is the trusted language service provider for various translation needs in the UAE and the Gulf region.

#medical translation services #legal translation company in dubai #best legal translation dubai #legal translation in the gulf #translation companies in dubai #translation in dubai

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wordsburgtranslations · 2 years ago

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Ensuring Accuracy and Effectiveness: The Role of Medical Translation Services

Discover the vital role of Medical Translation Services in improving patient care, facilitating global research, and ensuring accurate communication in the healthcare industry. Learn how these services bridge language barriers, provide accurate translations of medical documents, and foster compliance with regulatory standards. Embrace the power of professional medical translators to enhance accuracy, effectiveness, and cultural sensitivity in medical translations.

#Medical Translation services #Professional translation #Translation Company #Best Translation Services #Professional Translation Services

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captainverbolabsblog · 2 years ago

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Breaking the Language Barrier: How Medical Translation Services Can Improve Healthcare Outcomes

In a world that is becoming increasingly globalized, language barriers are becoming a common issue, especially in the healthcare industry. Communication is key in ensuring patient safety and providing effective treatment, and without it, there can be dire consequences. This is where medical translation services come in. These services provide accurate and timely translations of medical documents, prescriptions, and even doctor-patient conversations. By breaking down language barriers, medical translation services can improve healthcare outcomes for patients from all over the world. In this article, we will explore the importance of medical translation services and how they can enhance the quality of care provided to patients, regardless of their native language.

The Importance of Accurate Medical Translations

Accurate medical translations are crucial in the healthcare industry. They ensure that doctors and medical professionals can communicate effectively with patients, regardless of their native language. Medical translations also ensure that patients understand the treatments they are receiving, any medications they are prescribed, and any potential side effects or risks associated with their care.

Additionally, accurate medical translations are important for legal and regulatory compliance. In many countries, medical documents must be translated into the local language to meet regulatory requirements. Failure to do so can result in penalties and legal issues for healthcare providers.

Overall, accurate medical translations are essential in ensuring that patients receive the best possible care, that doctors can communicate effectively with their patients, and that healthcare providers meet legal and regulatory requirements.

Challenges of Medical Translation

Despite the importance of accurate medical translations, there are several challenges that medical translation services must overcome. One of the biggest challenges is the complexity of medical terminology. Medical terminology can be difficult to translate accurately, and even small errors can have serious consequences for patient safety.

Another challenge is the need for cultural sensitivity. Medical translation services must be aware of cultural differences that can impact medical care. For example, some cultures may have different attitudes towards certain medical treatments or procedures.

Finally, medical translation services must be able to provide translations quickly and efficiently. In the healthcare industry, time is often of the essence, and delays in translation can have serious consequences for patient care.

The Impact of Language Barriers on Healthcare Outcomes

Language barriers can have a significant impact on healthcare outcomes. Patients who do not speak the local language may have difficulty understanding their medical care, which can lead to confusion, frustration, and even medical errors. Additionally, language barriers can make it difficult for patients to communicate their symptoms and concerns to their healthcare providers, which can lead to misdiagnosis and improper treatment.

Language barriers can also impact patient satisfaction and trust in healthcare providers. Patients who do not feel that they are being understood or listened to may be less likely to follow through with their medical care or to seek care in the future.

Overall, language barriers can have a negative impact on healthcare outcomes, patient satisfaction, and trust in healthcare providers.

How Medical Translation Services Can Improve Healthcare Outcomes

Medical translation services can play a critical role in improving healthcare outcomes for patients who do not speak the local language. By providing accurate and timely translations of medical documents, prescriptions, and doctor-patient conversations, medical translation services can ensure that patients understand their medical care and can communicate effectively with their healthcare providers.

Additionally, medical translation services can help healthcare providers meet legal and regulatory requirements for translated medical documents. This can help healthcare providers avoid penalties and legal issues.

Finally, medical translation services can help healthcare providers improve patient satisfaction and trust. Patients who feel that they are being understood and listened to are more likely to follow through with their medical care and to seek care in the future.

Types of Medical Documents That Require Translation

There are several types of medical documents that may require translation, including medical histories, consent forms, discharge instructions, and medication instructions. Additionally, doctors may need to communicate with patients in real time, which may require interpretation services.

It is important for healthcare providers to identify which documents require translation and to ensure that they are translated accurately and in a timely manner.

Best Practices for Medical Translation

To ensure accurate and timely medical translations, healthcare providers should follow best practices for medical translation. These include:

Working with professional healthcare translation services that have experience in the healthcare industry.

Ensuring that translators are fluent in both the source and target languages, as well as knowledgeable about medical terminology.

Providing translators with context and background information to ensure accurate translations.

Reviewing translations for accuracy and completeness before using them in patient care.

Overall, following best practices for medical translation can help ensure accurate and timely translations and improve healthcare outcomes for patients.

How to Choose the Right Medical Translation Service

When choosing a medical translation service, healthcare providers should consider several factors, including:

Experience and expertise in the healthcare industry.

Fluency in both the source and target languages.

Knowledge of medical terminology.

Quality control processes to ensure accurate translations.

Timeliness of translations.

Cost-effectiveness.

By considering these factors, healthcare providers can choose a medical translation service that meets their needs and ensures accurate and timely translations.

Case Studies of Successful Medical Translation Projects

There are many examples of successful medical translation projects that have improved healthcare outcomes for patients. For example, in the United States, the Oregon Health Authority partnered with a medical translation service to provide real-time interpretation services to patients who did not speak English. This project improved patient satisfaction and trust, as well as patient outcomes.

In Canada, a medical translation service provided medical document translation for a large healthcare provider. This project improved compliance with regulatory requirements and helped ensure accurate patient care.

Conclusion and Future of Medical Translation Services

Medical Translation To Help Your Hospital. Medical translation services play a critical role in improving healthcare outcomes for patients who do not speak the local language. By providing accurate and timely translations of medical documents, prescriptions, and doctor-patient conversations, medical translation services can ensure that patients understand their medical care and can communicate effectively with their healthcare providers.

As the world becomes increasingly globalized, the need for medical translation services is likely to grow. Healthcare providers must ensure that they are working with professional medical translation services that follow best practices for accurate and timely translations. By doing so, healthcare providers can improve patient outcomes, patient satisfaction, and trust in healthcare providers.

#medical translation #healthcare translation #best translation service

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fear-is-truth · 4 months ago

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𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐘 . . . hc .ᐟ ⭑ 𝐝𝐫. 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐲𝐡𝐞𝐰

⟢ tags — fem!reader﹒established relationship﹒domestic fluff﹒nsfw﹒mdni﹒cōckwarming﹒smut﹒kinky rp﹒somno﹒vaginal fingēring﹒oral sex

a/n: ngl him as a doctor is even hotter to me

when charlie doesn’t have long shifts, he always picks up your favourite takeout and the two of you enjoy dinner together. chatting about your day while unwinding, enjoying the little moments before his next busy work stretch.

on nights when he has to work super late, you try your best to stay awake and wait for him, but usually end up curled on the couch, asleep. when he gets home, he kisses your forehead, and carries you to bed. he whispers in your ear about how much he missed you during his shift.

even though he’s exhausted from his long hours, you have movie nights at least once a week. he lets you pick the movie, but sometimes falls asleep halfway through with his head resting on your shoulder.

often surprises you with flowers and chocolate on random days. fancy and extravagant—he compensates for his long working hours by spoiling you rotten.

if you so much as sneeze, he’s goes straight to ‘doctor mode’, fussing over you.

doesn’t mind that your clothes take up more space in the closet than his. in fact, he loves seeing your cute outfits hanging next to his scrubs and casual clothes—it makes the apartment feel like home.

always finds time to text you, even if it’s just a quick “miss you” or “i love you.”

whenever charlie works overnight, you prepare a little care package for him—his favourite snacks, a note, and something comforting from home like a little keepsake or a sweater with your perfume.

nsfw — mdni

eats you out at any given opportunity, laying you down on the nearest surface before going down on you. his fingers are never idle — tracing patterns on your stomach, playing with your tits, or finger-fucking you.

being in the medical field, charlie knows how to use his fingers. and he loves using them to pleasure you just as much as you love having him use them.

explaining the anatomy of the female external reproduction system to you while he scissors his skilful fingers in your cunt.

after particularly long and stressful shifts, charlie finds comfort in releasing all the pent-up tension by fucking into you nice and deep, bottoming out with each thrust.

sitting in his lap while he reads medical journals or reports. feeling that heavenly stretch of his cock breaching the bottom of your tummy.

consensual somno. wearing an oversized t-shirt, no bra and panties underneath to allow him easy access — sleeping soundly while he eases his cock inside of you.

keeps your nudes tucked in his wallet.

kinky roleplaying — doctor & nurse, priest & nun, college professor & student etc.

#dr charlie mayhew #grotesquerie #charlie mayhew #charlie mayhew x reader #charlie mayhew x y/n #charlie mayhew smut #charlie mayhew x you #charlie mayhew headcanons #nicholas alexander chavez #nicholas chavez #nicholas chavez x reader #nicholas chavez x y/n

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minolikeswords · 3 months ago

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What the Ancients would call you- Sfw headcanons <3 GN reader!

Including: Golden Cheese, White Lily, Pure Vanilla, Dark Cacao and Hollyberry

cw: none tbh, it’s very fluffy!! Reader is implied to be a fighter in PV’s! Brief mention of Black Raisin, Caramel Arrow, and Wildberry cookie, reader is implied to have shoulder length hair in golden cheese’s. Reader and Hollyberry are married <3 Hollyberry is referred to as Holly a couple times!

Mino’s notes: I absolutely adore DC cookie, him and golden cheese are my favourites <3

Golden Cheese!

- Adores calling you “darling” in private or near close friends, but when addressing you formally, prefers using “my Grace.”

“I have to say, the gold suits you rather well, darling,” Golden Cheese mutters against the back of your neck, making you close your eyes and sigh as she moves your hair out of the way to fasten a rather intricate golden necklace. Her slender fingers working quickly to close the knot off as she smiles at your reaction.

You roll your eyes and lean into her touch, gazing up at her and grabbing her face in your hands as you kiss her cheek, “you spoil me, my Queen.” Her eyes twinkled in delight as she grabbed your palm and kissed the tips of your fingers.

“You’re worth it.”

White Lily!

- She is so shy when speaking about you. Usually refers to you as “love” or “sweetie.” Pure Vanilla teases her about it often which just gets her more flustered but you absolutely relish it.

You run your fingers through White Lily’s hair right after her shower. Drying it off gently as you now work to rebraid it, brushing into her white locks as she hums to herself.

“Is this alright? I know it’s a little different from what you usually do but it suits you,” You ask, grinning at her reflection in the mirror she’s holding.

She nods, hands touching the braid rather delicately, “thank you, my love. It looks wonderful.”

You place a kiss on the top of her head, making her flush as you pin the braid to the back, ensuring it doesn’t move around, “you deserve it.”

Pure Vanilla!

- His go to is definitely calling you “honey!” You’re always so sweet to him you remind him of it. Helping him out around the medical tent and making sure he’s doing okay. He loves being doted on and vice versa <3

“You really have a knack for getting into trouble, hm, honey?” Pure Vanilla cooed softly, his fingers brushing up against your waist as he carefully cleaned up the jam around your wound. You let out a quiet hiss and shivered, frowning to yourself.

“The cake hounds caught me by surprise. Black Raisin cookie scolded me enough for the both of you, yknow?” Pure Vanilla smiled at your grumbling, rubbing the side of your waist slowly as he leaned in and kissed you.

��Not scolding you, just concerned. You cannot stop a cookie from acting out in their nature, but you can make sure they’re doing it safely,” He flicked your forehead for emphasis as he pulled away from your lips, finishing bandaging up your injuries and beaming at your flushed faced.

Dark Cacao!

- I believe he’d often just refer to you by your name in professional or formal settings. But in private? He calls you “beloved.” It comes naturally to him, but he still uses it sparsely.

You drag your fingers across Dark Cacao’s cheeks, tracing his strong jaw with adoration as his eyebrows twitch in his sleep. Leaning in, you brush your lips against his, feeling his eyelashes flutter against your cheeks as he awakens.

“it’s far too early to be awake, my beloved,” His sleepy voice was gruff but soft, a tone he deserved for you only. You just nuzzle your nose against his, hands shaking around his neck and fingers curling into his long hair as he wraps an arm around you, violet eyes gazing at you.

“You have an audience with Caramel Arrow in an hour, my King. I think it’s best if you’re up soon,” You giggle, pulling away from the kiss and watching his eyebrows shoot up in surprise. The corners of his lips twitch in amusement, making your heart swell with adoration.

“I’m sure she will not mind if I spend a couple more minutes in your arms.”

Hollyberry Cookie!

- Definitely calls you by “Sugar” but is the most likely to have a nickname for you thats personal to you both! Like one that stems from an embarrassing memory or inside joke.

You roll your eyes and frown at Hollyberry as you help her up the steps to her room, her body pressed against you as you carefully bring her to her bed and lay her down. An immediate flush darkening your face as she grips your waist and pulls you into bed with her.

“You should see your face, sugar, from annoyed to so flustered,” she slurred, the sweet scent of berry juice hitting your nose and you just groaned.

“Not funny or amusing, Holly, I told you to lay off the berry juice this time!” You complained, leaning into her touch anyway as she nuzzled you, eliciting a laugh from Hollyberry, “seriously you can’t be drinking like this so often.”

Hollyberry buried her head into your neck as you rub her scalp affectionately, scowling and continuing on your tangent, “I worry about you, you know? Always so reckless and impulsive. Even Wildberry can’t seem to keep you grounded sometimes…” you trailed off, brows furrowing as you realized your wife had gone strangely quiet.

“Holly?”

An answer came in the form of a soft snore as she kept you pulled against her, making you roll your eyes and kiss her forehead as you get comfortable on top of her. You made a mental note to thank Wildberry tomorrow for bringing her home.

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neocatharsis · 8 months ago

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240611 RENJUN

"It's been a while, Czennies. I have a lot I want to say, but I can only say it here, so I'm sorry. Please understand how frustrated I am. Because of my panic disorder and depression, it's been really tough. I didn't want to cause any trouble for the other members, so I pushed myself until my body couldn't handle it anymore and I collapsed. It was too dangerous, so I made the big decision to take a break from activities. I wanted to keep going more than anyone, but both my mind and body were reacting badly, so I had to stop. I'm sorry that I couldn't be stronger.

The main thing I want to say today is that I'm not blaming Czennies at all. I was mentally struggling, so during my break, I tried to recover quickly by going to amusement parks and doing things I hadn't been able to do, healing myself. I'm gradually getting better, but I saw some comments saying, "If he's that sick, how can he go out and have fun?" I found this absurd and pathetic. Does being sick mean I have to be depressed, take medication every day, and stay in a hospital room crying all the time? I'm doing my best to recover quickly so I can be active with DREAM again. To do that, I need to take walks and do what I want to help with my treatment.

However, even during my personal time, I have stalkers following me, sitting next to me on planes, taking photos while I'm sleeping. It's a huge burden for me. How do they find out my flight details and sit right next to me? They brazenly claim, "No, we didn't follow you." This is causing me so much stress. There are many ways to show love and support without resorting to such extreme methods.

Today, I received multiple calls, thinking it was the delivery guy, only to hear, "Is this my friend ***?" The profile picture was of our members. Is this really a coincidence? Whether you are young or old, I will not tolerate anyone invading my privacy. I will take legal action through a lawyer and go as far as filing lawsuits. Please, come to your senses and use your time and passion in the right way. If you listen to DREAM's music occasionally, we can create good memories together as DREAM and Czennies.

My message above is not directed at Czennies at all, but a warning to those who are illegally causing harm to us. Czennies, I love you so much and want you to be happy. You know that, right?"

Translated by jenodinu

#nct #nct dream #renjun

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mournthebird · 5 months ago

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Cold Metal.

summary: Soldat's arm gets cold. You are the solution.

a/n: Yeah so this turned into a lot, I wrote more than I expected to. This is also my first 'fic' of him wooo. I always had this hc that his arm gets cold and it hurts him. The scars being more sensitive to the cold and cause tension around his arm. So I thought something like this would be nice. He deserves it okay ;; wc: 3.6k

At first, it was hard. Harboring a literal assassin from the government was not an easy task, especially with one as unstable and deadly as the fucking Winter Soldier.

How you ended up doing this, you had no idea. Someone like him wasn't easy to just stumble upon, yet here you were. Maybe your heart was too good, but seeing him curled up in that alley a few days ago, shivering and soaked to the bone, a dislocated arm and bloodied from what you assumed was some kind of assault, you couldn't just leave him to the elements.

He had looked so scared, his eyes so full of confusion and apprehension when you initially approached him. He instinctively reached for a weapon at his side - a gun, a knife, anything - but found none, and the panic of a wild, cornered animal spread on his face. He even attempted to stand to fight you, like you bored any sort of threat to him. You just put your hands up in a manner to try to calm him, something as simple as standing caused him pain. He clearly had more injury than what your eyes could see.

You weren't sure how, but you had convinced him you were a safe person and that he could stay in your home. You were just trying to be a good person. He looked so scared, pressed into the wall of the old building and trying his best to look intimidating despite all the injuries that covered him more than the rain soaking his clothes. Ironically, you didn't know just who he was until you had began to delve into the news...a day after you let him into your house. Everything about him being wanted, his crimes, who he was. A sleeper agent, an assassin, the deadliest in the world. And you brought him into your home. Willingly.

Sure, at first you didn't know what to do, the fist of HYDRA sitting in the corner of your spare room, lashing out like feral dog if you came close, or god forbid even stand in the doorway. With how deadly the news made him seem...to you, he didn't appear that way. He just looked hurt and scared. His defensive behavior easily mistook for aggression.

But, none of it scared you away. You didn't care. You might've just been a regular civilian, but you were far from ignorant. You were sneaky, you knew a lot about both parties, SHIELD and HYDRA. You immersed yourself in research, learning as much as you could about HYDRA to get more information about this sleeper soldier.

Despite your efforts, you only scratched the surface.

Honestly, you didn't want to dig too far. You didn't want him to grow suspicious or think you couldn't be trusted for any reason. He already holed himself up like a hermit, it was literally like placing a feral animal inside a home and watching it search around curiously but anxiously, then hide away in a small, dark place for safety. Besides, what HYDRA had on him was disturbing enough.

He was quite aggressive defensive at first too, he didn't want you near him whatsoever. He had a lot of wounds and you knew he'd need to see a doctor, despite the physical ones you saw, you could also tell he was underweight and malnourished a little bit. You weren't a doctor yourself, and you didn't want to attempt to do anything without some kind of advice. Problem was, he was wanted. You couldn't just take him to see a doctor.

"Must things be so complicated with you?" You sighed as you spoke to him while he practically barricaded himself in your closet. You didn't mean anything serious, you were just a little stressed and frustrated, thinking of what you could possibly do to help.

In the midst of your thinking, you remembered you had a close friend who worked in the medical field. They might have done some...questionable things...but that's honestly what you need right now. Someone who wouldn't blabber, and all above and below, you kept some pretty serious secrets for them in the past. You didn't talk anymore, not very often anyway, but they were always down to help you out if needed. It would be much better than trying to drag him to an office where he'd be discovered and you'd have to wrestle him down, which would be a pathetic attempt to restrain him.

Long story short, a quick home visit pursued with stolen medical equipment and a basic check up, it was confirmed he was malnourished like you suspected. He wasn't terribly thin, but you could tell someone his stature shouldn't be so skinny, his ribs protruded too much for your liking. He was also dehydrated along with having an extensive amount of old and new injuries, an untreated dislocation, and some minor infections.

The soldier surprisingly didn't fight that much when he was getting checked out, his blue eyes glued to you the whole time, only averting to watch the 'doctor' as they moved around him. But nothing could be too easy, when the needles came out, he became a bit adamant and aggressive. He spoke in Russian, which you didn't understand. He shouted and sounded angry, backing himself into a corner as he prepared to fight like his life depended on it. His body trembled with adrenaline and he watched the two of you with an unblinking, cold gaze.

You realized it was bad. His treatment prior to you finding him. He acted like a needle was a raging hot blade about to cut his other arm off. Patience and waiting him out proved to be the best way to approach this. He was stubborn and stood his ground for two full hours before he slowly relinquished and he allowed the needle to go in for the IV. With a quick rundown from your comrade, some supplies, and promised confidentiality, they left you both alone.

You also learned how to place an IV, thanks to the instructions left with you and some YouTube videos, since you had to do it every day for two weeks so you could feed nutrients into his body. Everything he ate he just threw up, his body rejected food otherwise. Broths and mashed potatoes were all he could eat. Sometimes his body would tolerate bread and heavier, more filling foods like chicken. He eventually got to eating some veggies like soft carrots and zucchini if properly cooked too.

You still had to feed him carefully. Sometimes his body would still throw it all up and he'd get sick again. It was a grueling process.

You stuck it out and now he could slowly eat again, which was a relief. No IV necessary. He seemed glad about that too.

Besides refeeding, there was an array of issues that came along with being his unofficial caretaker. The Winter Soldier, or Soldat, as he referred to himself as, it was better than asset, was pretty difficult to care for. He was wary of just about everything, you specifically, he didn't know why you were so nice to him. He wondered if you had an underlying motive, his scrambled brain so torn apart tried to connect the dots.

Rewards came with good behavior, rewards being basic human decency and kindness. Good behavior meant pleasing his handlers.

You never wanted to be pleased. You never asked.

Was he supposed to do it anyway?

He watched you as you cooked something in a big pot on the stove. He saw you chopping carrots. He liked those. He liked the broth you made him too, and the potatoes. Good, this was safe food. Another reward? Was he supposed to do something?

You walked over to where he sat, his icy gaze watching you carefully. He was thinking behind them, you could tell, but he barely ever spoke besides simple Russian words that you learned either meant 'yes' or 'no,' or other things like 'please' and 'thank you.' While you set down a glass of water for him, he reached out and grabbed your waistband, leaning forward suddenly. The touch surprised you and made you bristle, your hand snatching his wrist instantly. "Soldat! No, no." you pulled his hand away, it nearly melted off you. Your sharp words startled him, her flinched back a little, his gaze still dull but now held a hint of confusion.

He tilted his head, frowning. "Позвольте мне служить вам." he grunted, his voice rough and raspy like he had swallowed broken glass, so unused, it was the most he had ever spoken to you at once. And you had no idea what he said.

"Don't do that, Soldat." you reasoned, speaking gently, you weren't angry, just a little shocked. The confusion on his face was clear, and fear that flashed in his eyes made you swallow the sudden lump in your throat. Why had he done that? He had never tried to touch you in any way before, in fact he avoided any kind of touch possible. Now he had tried to...you weren't sure. But the cool metal that hooked into your waistband made you shiver.

He leaned back into the couch, looking scolded and anticipating something, he was tense and stiff. You watched him, he said nothing else, his eyes glued to the floor, not daring to tear away from the spot on the carpet to look at you. He seemed scared.

"It's okay," you spoke up after a few silent moments, "You don't need to...do anything." You had a good idea of what he was trying to do, perhaps some sick mindset or conditioning had trained him to serving people before you. You knew HYDRA well enough, it wasn't a long shot to assume. The agents there were barbaric and inhumane.

He ate his food quickly and quietly, refusing to look at you the whole time, then retreated to the guest room like usual. He locked himself away most nights, you were fine with that. He was eating and sleeping, two things he desperately needed.

You sat on the couch watching a show you enjoyed, it was well into the evening by now. The bustling city now quieter and dark, the sun had set hours ago. The door to the guest room slowly opened, your attention drawn there and away from your show. Soldat nearly stumbled over his own two feet, he appeared visibly irritated, in pain somehow. It made you sit up, his expression wearing how he felt as obvious as day. "Hey...what's going on? Are you hurt?" You stood and padded over to him, to your surprise he hadn't backed away.

"Да..." he replied in a groggy, rough voice, the strain dominated the sleep and you felt more worried. For the most part, he looked okay, no obvious injury that you could see. You still tried to look him over just in case there was something he might be hiding, or maybe he hurt himself? He wasn't wearing a shirt, his skin looked fine, all old injuries as far as you could tell. Healing wounds and scars, nothing looked new or irritated.

His metal arm was cradled slightly, so you paid more attention to it. "Your arm hurts?" You asked gently, your eyes scanning it. You weren't entirely sure how his metal arm could hurt, but the tech was advanced so maybe there were some nerves somehow integrated in there. He gave a sharp nod, securing your suspicions.

"Okay...where?" You hoped maybe he'd give you more of an idea, but you doubted it. If he did speak, you didn't know Russian, it would be pointless.

He pointed to his shoulder, where metal met flesh. The nasty scars there were swollen, but that didn't look any different than usual. You observed the area regardless, looking over it for several minutes before you frowned and leaned back. You couldn't see anything that would give away any sort of pain. "How...does it hurt? It looks okay, is it internal?" You questioned slowly, hoping he would tell you, in English...

He shook his head sharply again, jerking side to side. His brows were tightly knit together and a hard breath huffed out of his nose. He reached up with his right hand, his fingers carefully touching the scars. He was so tentative, like the scars were scorching hot, or like he was afraid to touch them at all. "Холодный." His voice came out with underlying discomfort, he had to force himself not to wince.

You frowned. Of course not.

"Uh...-"

"Холодный," he repeated, his tone more firm this time like he thought repeating the word would make you understand. The expression on your face just made him feel frustrated, he grabbed your wrist with his right hand and pulled your hand up to his scarred shoulder. You weren't sure why you flinched or tensed like you expected some sort of pain, but you did.

Under your palm, you felt the stark contrast between the hot, irritated scars and freezing cold titanium.

Cold.

Was that what he was trying to say? That couldn't feel good.

"Is...your arm...hurting because it's cold?" You asked slowly, trying your best to read his face. He nodded once, grunting.

You felt stupid now. Damnit. "I see...okay, let me see what I can do." You pulled your hand off his shoulder, walking over to a small storage closet you had down the hall. Your eyes scanned the shelves until you spotted the heat blanket you had stored in there for the colder months. You grabbed it and walked back over to him, "Here, if you plug this in and drape it over your shoulder, it will keep you warm."

You offered the blanket to him, he stared at it for several seconds before he stepped closer to you, his hand around your wrist and pulling your palm to his shoulder again. You frowned a little and looked at him, "Your shoulder was cold...right? This will help, I promise." You didn't move your hand, you weren't sure what he wanted other than to warm up his arm. "The blanket will be warm."

"Нет." Soldat stared down at you with an empty expression, his eyes had heavy, tired bags under them and showed his clear lack of sleep. You weren't sure what he wanted other than the blanket, since he was refusing to accept it. Instead, he held your hand over his shoulder, sliding it gently down towards the front where his scar was deepest. You could feel his chest rise as he breathed evenly, his eyes almost closing completely.

Did he like how your hand felt?

You remained silent as he gently guided your hand along the length of his scar, where the unforgiving metal pierced his flesh and embedded itself beneath the surface. Your own breath hitched feeling it, the cold, rigid tissue gradually warmed under your delicate touch, responding to the gentle friction of your fingertips. As he continued moving your hand in a soothing motion, you noticed his tense features begin to soften, the lines of worry etched across his face slowly fading away.

The soft intimacy of the moment hung heavy in the air, you found yourself captivated by the subtle changes in his expression, each twitch and relaxation of his muscles didn't go unnoticed. Maybe he was finding comfort in your presence after so long. He had never been this vulnerable with you, and yet here he was, literally grabbing your hand and making you touch his most delicate wound.

"Do you like my hand there...?" The words escaped your lips in a whisper, barely audible. Your eyes, fixed intently on his face, sought to decipher every nuance of his reaction. You watched closely, noting the slight parting of his lips, the flutter of his eyelids, and the almost imperceptible nod that followed your question.

He was so tired, somehow still standing. "Да..."

"Ah...I see. You like my hand there? Does it feel good to rub the scars?" you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper. Your eyes traced his features, taking in every detail as you gazed up at him. Those dark locks of his hung slightly in his face, creating a disheveled yet alluring frame around his eyes. His hair was messy and tangled, clear evidence of disturbed sleep. The dim light from the tv caught the stray strands, making them stand out against the dark.

He gave a quick nod once more, his body inching closer to you in a subtle yet deliberate shuffle. His eyes, filled with an unmistakable longing, conveyed that he desired something more from you - perhaps your touch, your warmth, or simply your continued presence. "You know," you reasoned gently, your voice soft and caring, "the blanket would help warm up your entire arm, much better than my hand. Plus, it would make you much more comfortable if you decided to rest in bed..."

Even with your logical suggestion, it was clear from his intense gaze and body language that he was far more interested in you than in any blanket or physical comfort you could offer. His focus remained fixed, as if you were the only thing in the world that mattered to him in that moment.

You exhaled deeply, slowly withdrawing your hand from his body. A fleeting expression of panic flickered across his features before quickly fading. His gaze then fixed upon you, tracking your movement as you made your way towards the couch. You reached for the electric blanket's cord, plugging it into the nearby wall outlet. The cord snaked across the floor, a thin line connecting comfort to power. Your hand then moved to pat the cushion beside you, a silent invitation.

Maybe his earlier behavior wasn't rooted in discomfort or mistrust, but rather in a more fundamental human need.

Maybe he craved companionship, but it was hard to tell for sure, he was a stoic stature 99% of the time.

He approached with hesitation, his feet dragging across the floor as if each step required immense effort. His eyes darted around, scrutinizing the spot as though it were an elaborate trap waiting to be sprung. After a solid few minutes of tense silence, he finally lowered himself onto the couch beside you, his movements slow and calculated.

You opened your mouth, ready to suggest he cover himself with the blanket for warmth, but before the words could leave your lips, you found yourself gasping sharply as the heavy soldier unexpectedly collapsed against you.

His full weight pressed down, pinning you to the couch as he sprawled across your body. The shock of his ice-cold metal arm against your skin sent a jolt through your system, causing you to shiver involuntarily. Desperate for warmth, he burrowed his shoulder into your side, seeking out your body heat with an almost primal urgency.

The blanket, forgotten in his sudden move, lay crumpled beneath you both as he clung to you, his form trembling slightly as he absorbed your warmth through the layers of clothing between you. He certainly favored you over it.

"Ah, Soldat...-" You began to speak, but your words were abruptly cut off by a sound that was equal parts growl and whine emanating from him. His head found a comfortable resting place on your chest, and you could feel the gradual warming of his arm as it pressed against your body. He made it abundantly clear that he had no intentions of shifting his position anytime soon. Recognizing the futility of any attempt to move, you resigned yourself to your current predicament, secretly relishing the closeness.

Despite your newfound role as a human pillow, you still managed to reach for the heated blanket nearby. With careful movements, so as not to disturb his apparent comfort, you gently draped the warm fabric over his form. This additional gesture didn't seem to bother him in the slightest. He sunk even further into the embrace, clearly content as long as he maintained his position pressed firmly against you. The combination of his body heat and the heated blanket created a cocoon of warmth that threatened to lull you both into a peaceful slumber.

You knew he had settled and probably wouldn't move from this spot, he had gotten too comfortable and he was asleep by now. His heavy eyelids having closed almost instantly after maneuvering into you like a demanding cat. His messy hair smelled like your shampoo, since that was all you had to use for him.

Since it was apparent that he wasn't going to get up from his spot anytime soon, you resigned yourself to sleeping on the couch with him for the rest of the night. His cold shoulder and arm were now buried against you, your body heat gradually warming the metal and soothing the sore scars he had accumulated over time. You let your arm rest gently on his back, a bit cautious at first since you weren’t sure if he was going to react, luckily he didn’t. Your head was supported by the arm of the couch, which was quite comfortable. You were happy and relieved that you had settled on the comfier set when you bought the furniture, it made the situation more bearable.

With the soft sound from the show playing, you let your eyes close and you both slept on the couch. Before sleep overtook your mind, you wondered if this was a one time thing, if he'd return to his usual behavior tomorrow, or if this would become a regular gesture he'd want from you. Had he been silently suffering from this the whole time? He's a little heavy...but he's sleeping and that's good. You're helping him sleep. You're helping his pain. If he began seeing you as a source of comfort, then so be it.

Better that than anything else.

Dividers by @/strangergraphics

Cover images from Pinterest. I do not claim them as my own.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #the winter soldier #the winter soldier x reader #winter soldier #winter soldier x reader #bucky barnes x you #winter soldier x you #james buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes oneshot #captain america the winter soldier #james bucky barnes #blythewrites⛓

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piastrisun · 6 days ago

Text

the second account.

pairings: franco colapinto + singer female reader.

summary: after franco accidentally exposes his secret twitter account, fans accuse him of being delusional about his supposed relationship with you.

faceclaim: malina weissman.⠀warning: none.

request: could you make a franco and singer!reader where he "shows off" his girlfriend on his secret twitter acc but her fans don't believe him so she decides to surprise them by finally making a music video of "bed chem" casting him?

notes: messy dates, as usual. a brief use of gracie abrams for the music video part. and i know franco would put everything in spanish but it had to be in english for u guys. thank you so much for the request, i had a lot of fun making it. :)

─── ⋅ ☆ ⋅ ───

translations: “every time she sings i forget how to breath, do you guys think it’s a medical condition�� “my pretty princess” “check out her eyes, dude” “good morning to my girlfriend and my girlfriend only” “i’m head over heels for her what do i do” “no one sings like she does, man”

─── ⋅ ☆ ⋅ ───

francolapinto added to their story.

yourusername and others liked your story.

─── ⋅ ☆ ⋅ ───

liked by username, username1 and others

yndaily day 1 of using @/francolapinto’s tweets as captions: “imagine waking up and the first thing you see is yn’s face. a dream for you, a reality for me”

tagged yourusername

view all comments

username NOOOO THIS IS SO FUNNY PLS KEEP THIS GOING

username1 if i looked like this, i’d just walk around expecting people to fall in love with me

username2 franco is gonna see this and panic

username3 petition for this to become a daily series until he acknowledges it

username4 it’s crazy how all his tweets work as captions bc he’s LITERALLY a yn fanpage

username5 okay but why is she actually the most beautiful person alive

yourusername i fully support this, keep going

username6 she’s so chronically online IM CRYING

username7 SHES INSANE LMAOOOO

username8 @/francolapinto i get you man

─── ⋅ ☆ ⋅ ───

liked by username9, username8 and others

43updates @yndaily has inspired us to start talking about franco the way he tweets about yn, wish us luck

tagged francolapinto

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43updates guys what if i’m actually yn and i’m doing this to bother him

username9 i’ve never seen you and yn on the same room

43updates 👀

43updates joke it can’t be me, i’m clearly unemployed… like SOMEONE I KNOW

username8 PLEASE let’s make him experience the secret account treatment

username7 he has created monsters i fear

francolapinto i suddenly understand how this might have looked from the outside, PARAAÁ

francolapinto but i mean, if you’re gonna do it, go all in. but NO ONE, can talk about me the way i talk about her

username6 LMAO, yeah okay, ‘her’, you mean the girl you run a fan account for?

username5 are u confirming or denying this i’m confused

username4 girl we need receipts, you look delusional

username3 we’ve been through this already, no one believes you 😭😭

username2 franco finally getting a taste of his own medicine

─── ⋅ ☆ ⋅ ───

liked by francolapinto, username and others

yourusername bed chem video drops tomorrow!! 🌟 i couldn’t be more excited for you all to see it. it’s one of my favorite projects yet, and i had the best co-star.

also, since you guys are basically detectives. yes, this is my boyfriend. yes, he’s been running an account to talk about me this whole time. and no, i did not ask him to do that. but i was aware of it and i love him.

tagged francolapinto

view all comments

yourusername p.s. he’s been mentally preparing for this moment since the second account incident. be nice to him!!!!

francolapinto please!! i’ve suffered enough

username NO WAY i need a moment

username2 SHE JUST SAID IT LIKE IT WAS NOTHING HELLO??? 😭

username3 “yes, this is my boyfriend” GIRL I HAVE BEEN HAVING A MELTDOWN FOR WEEKS

yoursister you two are perfect together!! 🥹

francolapinto but seriously, every day with you is my favorite. you already know that, but saying it here too just in case, te amo 🤍 ♥︎ liked by author

yourusername i’ll put you in my pocket starting now, te amo más <3

username3 forget it when i said this was one sided…

oliviarodrigo need all the behind-the-scenes footage!!

francolapinto also hi. yes boyfriend here, happy to be included!! ♥︎ liked by author

francolapinto and for the record, my account was NOT a fan account. it was a highly curated appreciation page. there’s a difference

username4 five comments from him, he’s so obsessed 😭😭

username4 the way we all thought he was a lovesick fan and turns out he was just a boyfriend with too much free time

francolapinto i’m trying to not take any offence by this

username5 this is the funniest celebrity hard launch ever

alex_albon wow. shocking. so unexpected. truly a plot twist.

yourusername ❓

username6 she’s so funny for that caption 😭😭

username7 he was running a whole stan account for his own girlfriend and she just let him

username8 his twitter account was a love letter, i’m gonna be sick

─── ⋅ ☆ ⋅ ───

©⠀piastrisun original work. please don’t translate, claim or repost any of my writing, 25’.

#piastrisun: work #piastrisun: smau #piastrisun: requests #f1 x reader #franco colapinto x reader #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 x you #f1 imagine #franco colapinto x you #franco colapinto fic

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keferon · 2 months ago

Note

Part 3! Ratchet and Deadlock time.

The ray of sunshine has left, leaving us in the cold dark of the angst.

Ratchet works through some stuff.

———————————————————————

Ratchet hadn’t actually meant for the conversation to start with Roddy.

The medic had wanted to fully explain why he’d left the Mecha Program for awhile. His outburst earlier cementing the fact he needed to get it off his chest, or he’d start lashing out at the wrong people.

Again.

The Kid deserved to know what staying with him could drag him into. Ratchet kept his hands busy cleaning his bowl in the shop sink.

Hot Rod, Ratchet realized, was a good enough bridge into the topic. Someone Deadlock could put a face to. Not just nameless pilots upon pilots.

“There’s a condition called Congenital Insensitivity to Pain. CIP for short. The abbreviated explanation is sometimes humans can be born without the ability to feel pain or that the sensation of pain doesn’t translate correctly to the brain. It’s a very dangerous condition to have since it means that the person doesn’t get the usual warning signs that’s something’s wrong.”

The bowl was completely clean but so long as Ratchet didn’t turn around, he could pretend he was just training a med student.

“So that question about “weird pressures”. You were checking for damage Hot Rod doesn’t know he’s sustained due this CIP condition?”

Kid was smarter than he gave himself credit for. Ratchet thought for not the first time. He almost got it right.

“Hot Rod doesn’t have CIP. Not actual CIP.”

Ratchet put the bowl down, his hand not moving from the faucet after turning it off.

“He wasn’t born with it. Because I caused it.”

—————————

“I was so damn proud.” Said Ratchet.

At the time, he was. The integration process for recruits to become pilots was horrific. Excruciatingly painful. And something out of a science fiction movie.

In order to condition the human nervous system to work with the mecha neural interface, it necessitated mapping out every nerve and neuron in the pilots body.

While conscious.

Orion came up with the best analogy for it once: You could create a perfect 3 dimensional map of an entire ant colony’s nest. Provided you poured enough molten lead down the hole.

Ratchet wasn’t one to standby watching friends or strangers suffer, so he rolled up his sleeves and set his mind to fixing the whole damn thing.

On the line between man and machine, Ratchets role in the mecha program was right on the fence.

Specifically, he’d started very close to the fence on the side of the machines, and during the course of the program, picked up enough extra PHD’s to hook a leg over said fence to reach across and start smacking the shit out of some particularly stupid doctors handling the men.

Ratchet worked for years along side Pharma and Shockwave to make the integration process less permanently damaging.

Common long term side effects were: Blurry Vision Jazz, Disassociation Swoop, Memory Loss Sludge, Paralysis Snarl, Nerve Damge Slag, Internal Hemorrhaging Grimlock, Altered Personality Shockwave, and Brain Death Orion.

There were dozens more faces Ratchet could pair with any given symptom.

Eventually, Ratchet got his lucky break. A fresh batch of recruits to try his tweaked integration process on. Hot Rod was one of them.

Ratchet had thought he’d hit a breakthrough. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t publish it yet. Not until he was sure.

Hot Rod aced the physical and mental exam. The rest of his test group did pretty well too. They weren’t cream of the crop. The higher ups didn’t want to risk loosing more valuable pilots to an experiment. When Pharma had already established an “acceptable level of care” that nicely suited them.

Ratchet personally watched the lot of them like a hawk. Just waiting for the other shoe to drop.

It didn’t come. Hot Rod was fine. The whole group was fine.

He was so damn proud.

The pilots went straight into mecha training and then-

They dropped like flies.

It was on the bad end of the bell curve for pilot fatalities. Ratchet thought it had to be the new series of mecha that had been built at the same time. He’d switched into engineering mode to rectify that. They had glaring safety issues where the flamethrowers and thrusters intersected. Plus, it wasn’t unusual for the mecha program to just have particularly rough seasons. The tentacled fucks were out in swarms. And by god was that a bloody summer for everyone.

It happened three days after the last big fight. Pretty much everyone who came back alive came back with some sort of injury. Except for Hot Rod, who Pharma gave a clean bill of health.

Ratchet was in his corner of the medical wing, looking over his proposal for the new integration method when Jazz dragged Hot Rod into his office.

Red flag number one: Jazz was a nightmare patient who avoided the med wing like a bear trap.

He tried. Goddamn it if Jazz didn’t try, but he was physically incapable of getting through medical procedures without being heavily sedated. The last time Ratchet tried to do minor stitches with only a local anesthetic, Jazz panicked and damn near broke his arm.

Jazz and Hot Rod were both wearing shorts, t-shirts and sneakers. Judging from the smell, they had just gotten here from the rec room. Probably basketball or maybe dodgeball.

Ratchet had gone through a full medical checklist before they finished coming through the door. Neither looked sick or injured. Nothing was obviously wrong beyond the clear look on Jazz’s face that said “Something is actually very wrong.”

Jazz wheeled Hot Rod in front of Ratchet.

“Show him.”

Hot Rod looked more embarrassed than in desperate need of medical attention.

“I’m fine Jazz, I probably just need to stretch.”

Jazz waved his hand cutting him off. Ratchet would usually start telling them off by now but something stopped him.

“Hot Rod raise your arms above your head. Both of them.”

The red headed pilot reluctantly obeyed. His right arm lifted straight up above his body. His left. Hot Rod made a face of concentration, as his left arm refused to go any higher than his head.

Three days.

Hot Rods shoulder had been dislocated for three days and no one fucking noticed.

Ratchet chewed out Jazz at first thinking he’d caused it. Then he chewed out Hot Rod for not coming to medical as soon as he knew about the injury.

And then, something very cold settled into his stomach the more and more Hot Rod swore he didn’t notice. That it didn’t even hurt.

“Ratchet, I’m fine!”

He should have been in pain. In agony after three days.

Later, Ratchet would go through each medical file of every pilot he had been responsible for. They had all had ailments in their files. Minor visible injuries that were all taken care of. Major ones went surprisingly smoothly. Patient notes praising the med staff for keeping them so comfortable. Praising him. Not one pilot had made a single pain med request since going through the integration process. On his files, there was one surviving active duty pilot from the same integration process.

Ratchet��s integration process.

————————

“Hot Rod said he forgave me.” Ratchet laughed. A little too wet and little too rough.

“Just like that.”

When’d he start shaking?

Ratchet still didn’t, couldn’t look the Kid in the eyes. “I left, not long after. There’s so much fucking more that was happening. That was the last straw, because when I told Shockwave and Pharma, those heartless fucks wanted to make it standard across the board. Soldiers that can’t feel pain? Of fucking course they wanted that. Didn’t matter the fatality rate was nine times as high.”

Ratchets voice was getting worse. But he couldn’t stop. “I thought I could fix it all from the inside. I thought as long as I stayed I could be some, fucking moral compass to a bunch of greedy, prideful, fucking deranged people. I was an egotistical IDIOT that thought I could somehow save every doomed kid tricked into walking into that “necessary evil.” I actually believed I could-”

Ratchet was abruptly cut off from his ranting as two massive hands grabbed him around the waist and deposited him on a ledge, at eye level.

“Kid, what-“ Deadlocks eyes looked shiny.

“I-I can’t keep looking down at you.”

The two of them sat in silence.

Neither seemed to know or want to start talking again right away. Ratchet was used to stewing in regrets on occasion. That had felt more like putting those regrets into a blender and then forgetting the lid.

Deadlocks plating was pulled tight. Ratchet had almost forgotten what he looked like when he was stressed. He wanted immediately to take it all back. Make it better. See him laugh drunk and cozy again like yesterday.

“Kid, I’m sorry. That- that was too much to put on you.” Deadlocks hands weren’t gripping him anymore but resting on either side of the ledge. Ratchet pet small circles on a thumb that twitched slightly under his hand.

Deadlock straightened and looked at him with a steely expression, mouth tense, eyes determined.

“You are one of the most intelligent, stubborn, and caring people I’ve ever met. Nope.” Deadlock corrected himself, lifting a hand. “THE most intelligent, stubborn and caring person that exists.” He dragged out the syllables of that last word.

“You!” He poked Ratchet in the chest. “Saved me. And I’m fragging terrible.”

Ratchet took offense to that, “You’re not terrible and you’re worth saving!”

Deadlock grinned, “The worst thing you can possibly say about yourself is that you care too much to put up with some kind of slagged up torture facility. Which, by the way, I am still fully offering to blown up.”

“Still full of innocent people kid.”

“Okay kidnapping then. I say we nab Hot Rod first.”

Ratchet leaned back against the wall and made one of those desperate chuckles you only hear when someone has their face buried in their hands. “Kid. The quintessons.”

That took a little wind out of his sails.

“The system is fucking broken and trust me I want to see it all burn someday. But we’re in a goddamn war. And as much as I hate the mecha program, it’s the best shot at survival we have.” Ratchet watched Deadlocks finales pin back again.

He offered a palm to Ratchet, who after a moment’s consideration, not very gracefully scooted on. Instead of lowering him to the floor, Deadlock brought him to his face. His eyes closed and he gently bumped his medic with his forehelm.

“Whatever you need. Just ask. Please.”

Ratchet sighed and rested his own forehead against the cybertronian. “I want you take care of yourself. I told you all that stuff so you understand why I’m fighting giants here and you can decide to back out. They can hurt you kid. Kill you. I don’t even want to think about what would have happened if Shockwave found you instead of me.”

Deadlock snorted, “Please, do you think any of those suits could handle me?”

Ratchet tapped his hand to put him down, which Deadlock obliged. He hummed.

“Well I can think of three candidates off the top of my head, but one got lost in space and the other might technically be a zombie.”

“What’s the third?”

Ratchet started shrugging on a coat, “Hot Rod.”

He smirked a bit as Deadlocks finales snapped up in offense. “What? Absolutely not. No fragging way that little rust spot can beat me in a fight.”

Ratchet began packing a go bag of medical supplies, “Well I was going to keep it to myself, but part of the reason I brought him in was because I asked Hot Rod to look out for you where I can’t.”

He slung the heavy bag over one shoulder. “Plus, I knew Hot Rod was going to love you. He sees the best in people. And kid?” Ratchet paused at the door.

“You’re someone special.”

———————————————————————

It’s always darkest before the dawn. This…has become a four parter. Dang. Good news is the ray of sunshine will return in style next time.

Some extra tid-bits, I got a head canon that the main side effect Jazz got from the integration process (other than PTSD) is blurry vision. He can see fine while hooked into a mech but can’t get his eyes to focus properly as a human. So Ratchet whipped up a visor that tricks his eyes into thinking he’s still looking through a mecha so he can see normally.

Also, a lot of you guys guessed correctly what was going on with Roddy! Good job everyone!

Lastly I have nothing personal against the dinobots if you love them I’m very sorry.

The next (last?) part will be much brighter. Because the suns coming back.

- SSTP

Oh.....oh fuck....wait WAIT THIS HAS SO MUCH MORE LAYERS THAN I WAS EXPECTING OH MY GOD

I was like. Okay huh. So Roddy can't feel pain right? He must be having this rare condition and? I don't really see where this is going? Huh. Guess it's time to find ouUUUUUH FUCK.

Please. Oh my god. The fact that Ratchet was the one who made him to be like that??? This gives both of them and their dynamic more layers than in a freaking onion. And Roddy didn't just suffer from Ratchets actions. He forgave him. Because OF COURSE he did, he's always giving everyone a second chance I LOVE THIS CONCEPT SO MUCH YOU HAVE NO IDEA

#maccadam #transformers #tf mecha universe #mecha writing #mecha rl writing #mecha dr writing #mecha art #mecha rl art #ratchlock #Hot rod #deadlock #ratchet #Pharma and Shockwave continue to be evil

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adore-laur · 1 month ago

Note

Can you make a blurb focusing on the second baby? I don't know something like her needing a moment with Harry or her getting sick

IN SICKNESS & IN HEALTH

——

"Open your mouth, honey."

You obeyed, and Harry gently slid an oral thermometer under your tongue. When you closed your lips around it, the metal tip provided a coolness that briefly offset the fever blazing through your immune system. Frankly, you didn't need an official temperature check to recognize you were fighting a viral infection, but Harry had insisted every aspect of you be monitored closely. He was currently whisking around the bedroom, ensuring you were being doted on like a princess. In your febrile state, where surreal thoughts flowed freely, you wondered if he'd been a doctor in one of his past lives. Those large, veined hands in skin-tight exam gloves. Manspreading on a swivel stool while listening intently to a patient's concerns. Diligent, respectful touches during routine checkups. Was it deranged to be jealous of the faceless people in your fever-induced fantasy? Maybe. All you knew was that it heated your body even more.

A bout of rigors had roused you in the middle of the night, which left you violently shivering in Harry's embrace. While semi-conscious, you had thought nothing of it. Hours later, after miraculously falling asleep in a cocoon of two thick blankets plus a heated one, you had awoken in a pool of sweat with a fever on the horizon. Now, in the early morning darkness, there was no choice but to try to break it. You had plenty of fluids nearby, comfy pillows for your heavy limbs, and a husband who was at your beck and call. And best of all, the sleep-aid medication you had taken earlier was working wonderfully.

After a silent minute of Harry staring at you sympathetically with his knuckles pressed against your unusually warm forehead, the thermometer beeped. He took it out, and when he read the result, a frown appeared on his lips.

"Am I dying?" you asked hoarsely, your eyelids drooping shut. Every part of you felt weak with exhaustion. The sinus pressure was a sucker punch whenever you moved your head.

"One hundred point seven degrees. Not good." Harry sighed and quickly left the bedroom on a mission to cure your symptoms. You laughed a little, which turned into a wheezy cough. The only real cure was rest and hydration, so you were curious what his magical remedy could consist of.

Distantly, you heard sounds in the kitchen. Cupboards shutting and utensils clinking. Was he making something? Your illness diminished any appetite for breakfast. Granted, it was five in the morning, not the typical time you ate.

The girls were still sleeping, and in the intimate shadows before dawn, when only you and Harry were awake, it felt like the old days. Back when you'd kiss him goodbye in his one-room apartment before he left for work earlier than any man had a right to do. Young, scraping by, and smitten with each other. He'd shown you what infatuation felt like. In those otherwise minor moments, you'd seen glimpses of the promising years ahead. A man who'd be devoted to healing your wounds during every tribulation life presented. A gentle presence, full of pure intentions, tender love, and perceptiveness. And all of it had translated beautifully into marriage and fatherhood.

You drifted off with sweet thoughts prancing around your mind. An hour later, Harry returned. The subtle scent of ginger and garlic lured you back into consciousness. By the foot of the bed, he held a bowl of soup, and you sniffled while sitting up. A dizzying rush of blood pulsed against your skull.

"I want you to eat this and drink an entire glass of water before sleeping," Harry ordered, rounding the bed to your side. He set the bowl on the nightstand, steam wispily wafting up toward the amber lamplight. You decided not to tell him you already indulged in a snooze.

"Copy that, Dr. Styles," you said. Soup for breakfast? Sure, why not?

He met your gaze, unhumored. "I'm serious. The ginger will hopefully soothe your throat. There's lemon juice in it for some vitamin C. Red lentils for a protein boost. Let me know if it isn't savory enough."

You smiled to yourself, knowing he thrived off refining his culinary creations until they were nothing short of excellence. "I'm sure it's perfect. Thank you."

"It might be too hot to eat yet," he said, fluffing the pillow beside you and pulling the comforter further up your legs. "Can I get you anything else? Where's your cold compress?"

"Why are you so worried?" you asked. "You've seen me sick dozens of times."

He placed his hands on his hips, maybe as a way to stop himself from fidgeting. "Doesn't mean I like it. In fact, I hate it."

"It could be worse." You shrugged, thinking of all the times you had held a puke bucket. If you had one thing to feel good about right now, it was that you didn't have food poisoning. Hallelujah.

Harry ran a hand through his hair, the curly ends sticking up among his natural bedhead. "I'm wondering if one of the girls passed it on to you."

"Probably," you murmured. "All kids are germ magnets." Your eldest was currently getting over a cold. No fever, thankfully, just the sniffles and a wet cough that made you wince every time you heard it.

"I should check on them," he said, seeming hesitant to leave you. He gestured to the nightstand. "By the time I get back, I want half that water gone and three spoonfuls of soup in your belly. Okay?"

"Wow, you're a no-nonsense doctor." You picked up the bowl of soup, its warmth spreading across your palms. It smelled deliciously herby. "Mmm, and a very talented chef. Have you ever thought about becoming one?"

Fondly, Harry shook his head with a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "You're strangely vivacious for a woman bedridden with a fever."

"Maybe I just like it when you dote on me," you said candidly. It was often outwardly shown through his actions, like today when he cooked soup from scratch for you and kept track of your symptoms, but his subtle attentiveness was your favorite. As a husband, it was how he would lead you through a crowded room, his hand tightly grasping yours to ensure you never strayed far. How he would carve out time for conversations together, whether they were ones of reminiscence, ones revolving around the future, or ones of harmless banter. How he would touch you with purpose, making you feel safe, adored, and most of all, like the most important person in the world. In public and at home with no one watching. He had chosen you in this life, and you reaped the benefits of his devotion every day.

"Just fulfilling my marriage vows," Harry replied, grabbing the baby monitor and turning to leave. You smiled, set the soup back in its place, and sunk into the mattress, feeling the strong urge to sleep the day away. It would take too much energy to lift a spoon or glass to your mouth, so you disregarded Harry's sensible advice and closed your eyes against the rising sun.

——

Harry took slow steps down the hallway while typing a note on his phone that reminded him what time he had checked your temperature and the unfortunate result of 100.7 degrees. You'd been right about him witnessing you under the weather on many occasions before—from the flu to hangovers to stomach bugs to pregnancy nausea—but it still pained him to see you weak and lethargic. He was doing everything he could to nurse you back to health as soon as possible.

A sound coming from the baby monitor wedged under his armpit stopped him dead in his tracks. He heard a couple of coos, followed by the buildup to a piercing cry that made his heart drop. They weren't the usual cries that his six-month-old baby girl woke him up with. And considering it was still before six a.m., the time she commonly needed a feeding, something was amiss.

Rushing to her nursery, Harry's mind went to the worst-case scenario. Had she escaped her crib? Was there a chance she had hurt herself? It had been nerve-wracking enough transitioning her from sleeping in a bedside bassinet to her own room. Harry feared not being right next to her during the night, but the positive was that it allowed for a smoother bedtime routine—both girls in their separate rooms, away from noise and other distractions. His mantra to help him sleep at night was, They're safe, they're safe, they're safe.

When Harry reached her crib after turning on the ceiling light, he was relieved to see her still there, looking mostly the same as the last instance he checked on her a few hours ago. This time, though, her face was screwed up as she wailed at full volume. She was communicating a need he wasn't sure of yet, and while he prided himself immensely on being able to translate her cries and swoop in with a remedy within seconds, this one was foreign. It alarmed him.

"What's the matter, my love?" He picked her up, and instantly, the answer became clear. The damp spot on her sheets. Her skin warm and clammy to the touch. Her refusal to breastfeed at her usual schedule yesterday. "Oh, no."

He had hoped the infection wouldn't be contagious and spread to everyone in the family. But, like you'd said, kids attracted germs from just about anywhere and anything.

"Please don't tell me you have a fever," Harry whispered, cupping her head and pacing around the room helplessly. "I can't handle all of my girls being sick."

She continued crying, and Harry pinched his eyes shut as he mentally went through a list of how to reliably bring her fever down. The first step was to take her pajamas off—the precious fleece onesie with snowflakes that he'd bought for the winter season. He set her on the changing table and undid the snap fasteners until she was left in only her diaper. The fever was apparent in the way she was flushed from head to toe.

"Let's ask Mommy what to do," Harry murmured to himself. He didn't want to proceed with any remedies without your consent, so he placed his daughter back in his arms and walked out to the hallway. "We'll make it better, I promise."

Unsurprisingly, you were already halfway to where he was, no doubt having heard her crying lasting longer than normal. You looked dog-tired, but the motherly instinct you possessed always overpowered it. "What's going on?" you rasped.

"I think she might have what you have. She sweat through the sheets and is burning up."

Your expression transformed into guilt as you slumped against the wall. "Great."

Harry came closer, bending to meet your eyes. "Hey," he said softly, "don't blame yourself. It's hard to avoid."

"I know, but... I really tried to be careful." You sighed, stroking his daughter's back. "I washed my hands before I touched her. Bathed her twice a day."

"You did everything right, baby," he assured. "She has a tiny immune system that's still developing, so it doesn't take much to catch a bug."

When you didn't respond, he said, "Let me take care of her. You should be in bed resting. Did you do what I asked?"

"No, I fell asleep," you muttered with a rueful wince.

Harry couldn't bear to be disappointed when you looked so miserable. "It's okay." His baby girl released another cry, and he pivoted to the serious matter at hand. "I was going to take her temperature."

You sniffled and rubbed at your forehead, which was probably aching with pressure. "If her temperature is higher than one hundred, we need to call the doctor. For now, open a window and feed her a bottle. If that doesn't cool her down, let me know and we'll try giving her some Tylenol."

Harry nodded. A part of him knew all of this information by heart, but he always sought your advice in these urgent moments. As the old saying went—mother knows best.

He kissed your cheek while gently squeezing your wrist in gratitude, not caring if he got sick—it was inevitable at this point. "Water and soup, please. Then rest."

"I promise."

Heading to the kitchen with a fussy, feverish baby wriggling in his arms, Harry opened the patio door to let the crisp January breeze in. The first streaks of light were brightening the space little by little. He got to work by taking a bottle of breast milk out of the refrigerator. He took her outside on the porch, positioning her in the crook of his arm to feed. To his relief, she latched onto the nipple and began drinking. She recently learned how to hold the bottle by herself, so Harry used the opportunity to get the ear thermometer from the bathroom.

Back outside, he took her temperature on the wicker patio chair. After a few seconds, it gave him a reading of 99.3, which thankfully meant no doctor visit today. Harry could breathe a little easier as he slowly rocked her in his arms, observing her behavior. The milk seemed to help hydrate her and alleviate her distressed cries. Her skin was still warm, and he felt like natural remedies only worked to a certain degree. He planned to give her a dose of medicine before her next nap. It would cure what he couldn't.

Once the bottle was half empty, Harry stepped back inside and closed the door behind him. He was working up a sweat with all this running around the house, but he enjoyed tending to everyone's needs.

He returned to the bedroom. The sunrise's soft glow shed over your frame curled up under the comforter, and he could see that you were awake. Looking at the nightstand, he smiled when he noticed a good portion of your soup and water gone.

"I think she'll be all right," he said quietly, setting the empty baby bottle on the dresser and sitting beside you on the mattress. His daughter whined, but for now, her shrieks were no more. "Just a low-grade fever. We'll keep an eye on it."

You nodded and whispered, "Thank you for everything."

Harry didn't say anything in response. He didn't have to, because this was what a family did—take care of each other in sickness and in health. And he had vowed to do it for a lifetime.

——

#harry styles blurb #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #dad!harry #dadrry #harry styles au #harry styles fanfic #harry styles #adore-laur #i wrote this while sick 🤧

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