#emt problems

[welcometogrouchland]

Controversial Steph take: I don't actually know that she'd want to be a nurse as a career. In main canon anyway

The point of evidence people use for this is usually Convergence: Batgirl (where a retired Steph becomes a nurse in the domed Gotham. Specifically she has midwife training), along with her time spent in Africa with Leslie helping people, and that's fair.

(Convergence: Batgirl #1 & Robin/Spoiler special)

I don't think canon has ever actually gives us an indication of what career Steph would like (her major in Batgirl (2009) is undeclared/never discussed iirc, and I can't think of any reference to the topic in Robin '93 or elsewhere) so it makes sense that readers would latch onto these moments as an indication of what a potential civilian career might look like for Steph.

It works fine but there is some interesting arguments to be made against it: namely this panel from Robin #82 (1993):

(Robin (1993) #82)

People often mention how Steph's mom was a nurse and how this might make her partial towards the career path but this panel implies the opposite- Steph's mom works long hours that put distance between her and Steph (Steph says more than once that Crystal works nights and sleeps days) and to, Steph at least, the job seems miserable.

Obviously this is a direct contradiction of Convergence: Batgirl, and while that simply comes down to different writers having different interpretations (and personally I don't think Dixon's takes precedent even if he is Stephanie's creator) it's interesting to me to think about what else Stephanie may actually want to do with her life.

We know her hobbies from a smattering of comics (sports like softball and gymnastics, piano, generally more on the creative side than the technical side but did do a lot of computer science during college) but none really coalesce into a career path. Personally I think if Steph were to work in the medical field she'd make a great EMT/first responder (adrenaline rush AND she's helping people!). I also think her pursuing something really difficult like a law degree just to spite people who doubt her would be in character (social work might be more up her alley in that scenario though).

Idk, just food for thought. Let me know if anyone has any alternate ideas for Steph careers

[bleary-tired-crayon]

chronic health issues and doctors (advice is appreciated)

ok, so i deal with a lot of chronic health issues, including but not limited to pots, endometriosis, intense joint pain, nerve pain, migraines, consistent nausea and a lot of mental health issues and neurodivergence. a lot, i know.

i was diagnosed with amps (amplified musculoskeletal pain syndrome) last year, which is essentially fibromyalgia for kids and teens. i am frustrated with this because it does not explain all of my symptoms and my doctor suggested that i just exercise and when pain starts i should just push through. the problem is that ive been doing that for almost 5 years and its only making things worse.

im considering finding a new rheumatologist or potentially neurologist but they are very expensive visits and that makes it very hard to get them along with necessary obgyn visits that i need to manage my endometriosis.

i havent been to a neurologist before and im going to talk to my pcp about it because ive been talking to other people with my symptoms and looking online(reliable sources and a variety if personal testimonies) and a lot of my symptoms both physical and mental align with functional neurological disorder. there are several different types of fnd and i would like to talk to a doctor about it.

i have a lot of previous negative experiences with doctors and hospitals that make me very anxious to bring up my concerns to a doctor but the pain and vertigo and muscle weakness have been happening more and becoming more disabling/debilitating.

i would love to know if anyone else can relate in any sort of way or if anyone has advice. tysm

[dorkylittleweirdo]

Me to my emt students: if you guys are gonna get covid it better not be during fucking finals week, wear a goddamn mask when you go out and self isolate for the last month bc you can't make up these exams and practicals so you'll have to retake the entire class

My emt students: *testing positive for covid during fucking finals week*

Me:

[bibleofficial]

showed back up at my uni today & talked to everyone omfg i surprised this adviser bc i was eavesdropping outside her door & i hear her talking to the PROBLEM ADVISER telling her ‘said u dropped the ball, several times’ & i was like UH YEA BITCH BC SHE FUCKIN DID - KNOCK KNOCK ‼️ HANG UP

[castametric]

me: ugh I don’t know why every time I wake up I have horrible crushing pain in my chest. anyway, time to get back into bed under my 50 combined pounds of weighted blanket :)

[thecolossalennui]

deadauthorssociety There would be a reblog lambasting op and saying "op didn't even consider some people are allergic to potato starch" and everybody would be reblogging that one.

The thing about tumblr is that you could make an entirely reasonable post like "hey in a pinch you can use potato starch as dry shampoo, just sprinkle it on top and comb it in, you can wash it off later and it'll be completely fine", and there's going to be someone reblogging this like

"sure this is safe and ok IN SOME CASES but ONLY if you're 100% sure that the thing you're using is potato starch and not something else, like laundry detergent! DO NOT EVER just sprinkle random powders into your hair before you're sure you've identified it correctly! You could burn your scalp off by following OP's advice without question!"

...Like are you sure that this is a real problem that people might actually have, or did you just feel like it should now be your turn to be talking?

[emotionalsupportdman]

nothing like getting told by one of your supervisors that you have confidence issues for you to realize why and to call your pcm and ask about upping your dosage

[goatgoesmbe]

Something, something, Ghoap being freaky in bed, leading to a cockring being stuck at the base of the Scot's cock.

Soap, who refused to let his boyfriend cut the ring himself and called the emergency hotline.

Only for them to send a cute pretty EMT, face flushed a darker hue as you tried to be professional after seeing what the problem was.

Cute lil tongue peeking out of your lips as you focused, gloved hand holding his shaft as the other held a portable saw, carefully cutting through the stubborn metal around his cock.

Ghost, who noticed the way his boyfriend's eyes darkened, his breathing came out in shallow puffs before he swallowed. Somehow getting turned on from having a bonnie thing kneeling between his legs, wielding something that could tear into his flesh.

And you, who were too focused on doing your job properly as to not hurt the Scot, not noticing the way his cock twitched when you held it tighter. Shifting your hold for better access.

Not noticing the other man approaching your figure until you sensed the shadow looming over you.

If you looked up, you would see two pair of eyes, staring at you hungrily.

[snapcracklepop-myjoints]

i wrote this in the notes of another post originally and am copy + pasting it here because im right but "tell the cops nothing, tell the doctors everything" is such a stupid ass fucking abled take. doctors engage in policing idk how to explain to yall that some people cannot in fact just tell doctors everything without it putting them at risk

like im not gonna go into the myriad of ways this is bs but like a quick example is i cant tell my doctors about my substance use issues because if i get that listed on my medical records it will actively endanger me. It will impact how I'm treated in emergency situations and will get me labeled as "drug seeking" when i try to get other issues dealt with.

i dont say this to scare people but because this is actually important information for people to have. if a medical professional claims this isnt an issue, they are NOT "one of the good ones". they are either straight up lying or theyre utterly unaware, which is frankly not better. doctors are cops. never forget it

like YES tell ur doctor abt being sexually active but stop saying "tell the cops nothing and the doctor everything" before i start killing in cold blood

I KNOW THE ORIGINAL QUOTE. This is about how people misquote it, as well as how they view the phrase as meaning "all medical professionals". ALSO! emts are not the neutral figures you think they are. please stop spewing your lack of understanding on the topic all over my tags, its embarrassing. Paramedics kill people and engage in policing stop fucking shilling for them indiscriminately

finally, THIS POST IS ABOUT DRUGS. FIRST AND FOREMOST IT IS ABOUT DRUGS. THIS WAS WRITTEN BY AN ADDICT. the way yall are talking about addicts and drugs users in the tags is so fucking dehumanising. you are part of the problem. Id suggest non addicts shut their traps please and thank you.

similarly, before you comment, ask youself: am i an addict ? do i have an understanding of how addicts, particularly otherwise disabled addicts, have to navigate healthcare systems ? if not, consider SHUTTING THE FUCK UP. hope this helps !

read the notes before you leave a comment im so fucking serious. reblogs are off because none of you know how to act and i have zero patience at this point. if you think im being bitchy pls consider the fact that your stupid comment does not exist in a vacuum and i have received and deleted countless stupid notes and abusive asks on and about this post and your stupid comment exists within that context and i am fucking tired.

[peachdoxie]

As anticipated, the rings are likely unrecoverable. The manager at Goodwill said that all jewelry goes to their e-commerce department, so it's possible that's where they ended up, but Goodwill sends so much jewelry that finding them would be a needle in a haystack. I didn't mention the recliner, though, so idk if I should go back and ask if there's anyway I can find out if they still have it. Alas. At least she has my grandfather's wedding ring from when he passed.

My grandmother lost her wedding rings a few weeks before she moved to an assisted living facility and we didn't find them when we packed up her stuff, so we were like welp, they might be lost for good. But my mom asked the manager to check the sink drain for the rings, and while they weren't there, another employee told him that the rings came off in her recliner the last time she went to the hospital. So we think that the rings got stuck in the chair. Unfortunately, the recliner was taken to Goodwill a few weeks ago and so it might be too late, but I'm going to go to the main branch in my town and see if I can do anything to recover the rings. I don't have high expectations but I'm hoping through a combination of good luck, small(ish) town niceties, and the Sad Backstory of my grandfather's passing that I'll be able to find them. Somehow.

[moonstruckme]

Inspired by this adorable fic by @inkdrinkerworld <3

cw: hospital, mention of surgery, reader has a fear of anesthesia/being unconscious

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 940 words

You wish that stupid heart monitor would stop exposing you to everyone in the hospital wing. 

“You’re fine.” James rubs his palm over your heart consolingly. “Deep breaths.” 

You inhale, and he does it with you, you feel his chest expand against your back. James got into bed with you soon after you got here, when you wouldn’t stop trying to get up and pace the room. After your IV was put in, Sirius threatened to sit on you if you tried to get out of bed again. James is a nicer compromise. 

“This is so stupid.” Your exhale comes out in a disbelieving huff. “I don’t even have to do this.” 

“Dove, you’re already here,” Remus reasons. “You’ve come this far, let’s just see it through. You’ll be alright.” 

Truly, you’re not sure how you wound up here. When your doctor recommended you for surgery, you said you’d think about it, but you were lying. You knew it, your boyfriends knew it, your doctor probably knew it too. Going under was something you had no intention of ever, ever doing. You didn’t know if the problems you were having would persist without the recommended procedure. You almost didn’t care. The one thing you knew for absolutely sure was that you did not want it to happen. 

And yet, it began to. All it took was one evening of lovingly made hot cocoa and sweet-talking from James to get you to set up the appointment. From there, the date marched continually closer, and all your boyfriends had to do was keep you from backing out. To their credit, they’ve had extraordinary follow through. Suddenly you find yourself in a hospital bed waiting for a surgery you could swear wasn’t going to happen. 

“You don’t even have to stay the night,” Sirius says. He’s sitting cross-legged in one of the chairs against the wall, undeterred by the plastic arm digging into his thigh. “We’ll have you home by dinnertime. Focus on that, doll.” 

“I want to be home now,” you mumble. You know you’re acting childish, but you’d rather gripe than cry, and the way you’re feeling those are your only two options. “Are we sure I can’t be awake?” 

“You don’t want to be awake.” James kisses behind your ear. “It’s quite bloody. You’d think it was gross.” 

“Don’t scare her,” Remus cautions quietly. 

You talk over him. “I’d rather be grossed out and know what was happening.” 

Sirius leans forward to grasp your hand, shushing you. “You already know what’s going to happen, baby. We’ve been over the whole thing. Do you want to hear it again?” 

“No.” In truth, hearing about the procedure had grossed you out. But that’s not your main issue. Tears prick your eyes. 

“Hey,” Sirius says softly. His thumb runs over your knuckles. “You’re okay. You’re going to be just fine. Home by dinner, remember?” 

“I just… “ You pull in a wavering breath. “I really don’t like the idea of being unconscious while people poke and prod at me, and I can’t wake up. It freaks me out.”

“No one is going to poke or prod at you.” Remus is leaning his forearms on his knees, eyes honey soft. “It’s a routine procedure. They do it all the time, it’s their job.” 

“I’d just feel better if I could be awake.” 

“It’d be so much scarier if you were awake. This way, you only go to sleep, and the next thing you know it’s done.” 

“That’s the worst part, though. It’s not like I can wake up even if I want to. I’ll be completely helpless.” 

“Sweetheart, no one is going to hurt you.” 

“I know that.” 

“Are you sure?” he asks gently. 

You shut your eyes, tipping your face down as tears start to drip from your nose. 

“Baby,” Sirius coos. His fingers feel cool against your cheek, cupping so he can kiss between your brows. James hugs you tighter. “Oh, shh, shh. I’m sorry you’re so scared, sweet girl. It’s really not so bad as you’re thinking.” 

“Can you come with me?” you whisper. It’s not the first time you’ve asked, but you’re hoping this display of obvious patheticness will sway things in your favor. 

“You know we would if we could, doll. They’re really strict about who’s allowed in the room.” 

You nod, taking in a ragged breath. 

“We’ll be with you until you go in,” James offers, “and as soon as you wake up. You’ll get to meet your anesthesiologist before, too. Her name’s Kara, she’s a sweetheart.” 

That James knows the person trusted with putting you out does comfort you some. He pats your chest with his hand over your heart, gentle and rhythmic. Slowly, it lulls yours into complaisance. Your heart monitor stops its ratcheting. 

“Breathe.” James exhales slowly. “We won’t let anything happen to you. You’re in good hands, angel, I promise.” 

“I’m sorry,” you say, opening your sore eyes. “I know I’m being crazy.” 

Sirius is squatting by your bed now. He tuts, quick to right you. “You don’t have to be sorry. You’re scared, it’s fine. I wish you weren’t because it’d be easier for you, but it’s not your fault.” 

“You’ll feel better once you’re in there,” Remus promises. “Really, lovely, it’s so much less daunting than you’re imagining it to be. It’s going to go by so easily. And then we’ll be with you, yeah?” 

“Yeah,” you sniffle. 

“What do you think?” James presses his cheek to your ear, pleasantly warm. “You think you can go an hour without us? You’ll be okay?” 

You make a low, reluctant sound. “Maybe.” 

“There’s our girl.”

[10moonymhrivertam]

Let’s hear it for the Queer Lady Strength Complex

[botanyshitposts]

obviously dont have much to report on this blog since starting my emt program except for the knowledge that in addition to normal grain entrapment problems involved with falling into a silo you can also get horrible crush injuries like a sick and twisted monkeys paw fable. blood flow cut off from the extremities by the weight of your own bushels. one minute youre on the silo the next minute youre in a nutty putty cave ass corn nightmare. this happens to people

[orphicsun]

Please please please more Abby!!! Can you write about firefighter Abby since you did bluecollar already... Like Abby saving readers cat then reader goes to see Abby to give her a special thanks make it smut but with plot

I Need a Hero: Abby Anderson HCS

Content: Firefighter Abby x fem! reader, mentions of comphet/struggles with sexual identity, mentions of reader's cat being saved from a house fire, smut, make-out session, car sex, mult. orgasms, scissoring, fingering, modern AU Abby Anderson, loving, giggly sex instead of just rough and fast we love to see it

Word count: 3.5k

A/N: Thank you for this request it was truly so refreshing to write something with plot. I hope you all enjoy this, and keep in mind that Abby's dialogue is red and reader's is pink!

✧.* Abby didn't have an easy life, but she was always a hard worker. She tried out college, got a general associates degree, but didn't enjoy the work load. She liked hands-on work and helping people, so she ended up with a EMT certificate from her local college.

✧.* Abby went on to become a firefighter and felt like she had a purpose in life with that. The look on people's faces when she was able to help them was always sent warmth throughout her heart. Though she was quite lonely, her mother having left her at a very young age and her father dead, she didn't have anyone to share her life with. She had her friends Mel, Owen, Manny, and Nora; still, there was always a part of her that longed for a comfort with someone special.

✧.* While Abby wasn't closed off from dating, she was never able to find a person who she had passion with. She went through a few relationships, but Abby could never find someone who understood who she was, that she wasn't just some attractive stereotype. Abby wasn't the type to have problems with any exes or undergo the tragic sapphic break-ups Nora warned her about, but she always felt like she wasn't understanding herself. She didn't know what she was looking for in a person. She dated various women, some more butch and others extremely feminine, some either funny or more po-faced, it was all somehow the same to her. She wasn't heartless, of course. She had fallen in love before and understood what attraction was. She just couldn't seem to find the "one true person" though, as cheesy as she knows that sounds.

✧.* Abby struggled with her sexuality and that may have had something to do with it. While she knew that she was attracted to women, she grew up denying it to herself. Seeing a beautiful girl made her heart stop, but she told herself it was simple attraction. Owen, whom she went to high school with, was her first time and that was when she was done lying to herself. She was definitely not for the men. Her first time with a woman was when she was already 20, but it was when she first felt like she had found a piece of herself. Before Jerry passed, she did come out to him, and his acceptance was branded into her head on repeat, playing over and over again every time she doubts who she is.

✧.* Abby lived in an apartment complex, not run-down and enough for her needs. Her place wasn't extremely decorated but she didn't spend much time there, so it didn't matter much. She constantly thought about more than that, though. She imagined living in the suburbs with a woman she could call her wife and be a wife, too. She dreamed of having perhaps a cat or dog with her and spending her nights watching as her wife's hips swayed softly as she hummed instead of eating cheap Chinese takeout. It was all just some dream, not something she ever considered to happen. At least, not anytime soon.

✧.* It was just another normal day for Abby when all hell broke loose. A few miles from her station, a house was on fire. The neighbor, frantic and in a panic on the phone with emergency services, informed the fire department that the woman who lived there had a cat inside of the house that the owner loved dearly. Unfortunately the woman was not home at the time the fire started, but the neighbor was certain that if she came home to a burning house, she wouldn't hesitate to risk her own life to save her kitty's. Abby's heart already squeezed at her chest at the though and she immediately signed herself up for the rescue.

✧.* When the firetruck arrived at your home, she was immediately hit by the smell of smoke flourishing into the sky. She wasted no time informing her coworkers of her next tasks and with the pull of a mask over her face, she hurriedly approached the burning structure. The front door was locked, which made sense seeing as how you lived in the suburbs and you were not home. Nevertheless, she was able to open a window and didn't hesitate to make her way through the living room. The fire was surrounding the hallway in which your heater seemed to have malfunctioned. The smoke was heavy and Abby was starting to panic. There was no cat to be seen and she was starting to lose hope, her tongue making small calling sounds in desperation that maybe, just maybe the cat would hear. She didn't want to give up, her voice heightening in volume, and right before she tried to open the bathroom door she heard a tiny "meow!" from the opposite side of the hallway. The bedroom. The fire hadn't touched it yet, thank god. Abby quickly burst through the door and found a small short-hair tuxedo cat meowing at her feet. She sighed in relief, muttering a little, soft "I've got you, kitty" before quickly scooping the baby into her arms and carrying it out of the home back out of the window.

✧.* When Abby took off her mask, small cat in her arms, she was greeted with the sight of a woman frantically crying to a few of her coworkers, the others working to put out the flames enveloping your home. There you were, heavy tears rolling down your face and the people surrounding her trying their best to assure you that your cat would be rescued. You were so beautiful even with sobs wracking over you, hair lit up in the sun and your expressions nearly bringing her to tears along with you. Abby didn't hesitate to approach you with the fur-ball cradled in her arms, clearing her throat from the slight smoke and seeing your eyes widen at the sight. "Oh my god, Minka!! My baby, is she okay?!" You shouted, your voice not carrying any aggression, though. It was clear that you were experiencing some fragments of an adrenaline rush coming home to said home burning down with your cat inside. Abby carefully handed your cat back to you, trying not to smile at her own thoughts. Minka, huh? That is the sweetest cat name she has never heard. Abby's heart once again squeezed at the sight of your tears slowing, your lips planting soft kisses all over the kitty's head. You were truly shaken, seeming to care more about the cat than the home. "I assure you that Minka is okay, miss. I found her in the bedroom and the fire hadn't traveled there yet. She may need to be brought in for any inhaled smoke, though." You nodded, holding the cat close. "Thank you...thank you so much, you really are a hero," you praised, your voice strained with emotion. Abby smiled, putting a large but gentle hand on your shoulder. "If you need anywhere to go, just let us know, okay?" A soft upturn of your lips left her cheeks slightly pink. She was supposed to be focusing on her job, goddamnit, but here she was floundering slightly over the soft lines of your smile. She wasn't supposed to be feeling this way about you, not when you just lost your home and almost lost your pet. She quickly composed herself as you replied to her, "I'll have to stay with my parents for a while, but thank you."

✧.* Even after the rescue ended, Abby couldn't get you out of her head. You were just so beautiful and sweet. She could tell even from the hour she'd spent by your side making sure the cat was okay and comforting you that you were probably one of the kindest, most caring people she could ever meet. She reprimanded herself for feeling this way about some stranger whose cat she saved. That's her job, afterall; she isn't supposed to find romance out of it. Why was it that she went home to call Nora and rant to her about the situation? It also didn't make sense that days after, you were in her dream with that same cat, your presence filling up her apartment and yours hands rising to cup her face so softly. You had the touch of an angel. When she woke, she was sweaty and breathless. She felt like she was going insane, dreaming of your touch when she hadn't even felt it yet. Jesus, Abby. Get a damn grip or you'll end up driving yourself crazy...

✧.* Two weeks later, Abby was playing cards with a few coworkers, laughing about some inside joke when her boss cleared his throat, catching her attention. In a gruff but not unfriendly voice as he always seemed to have, he told her that she was needed at his office. At first, she was terrified. What is she was being let go? She made okay money from her job, but she wasn't rich by any means. She wouldn't have enough to still afford her apartment.. Abby was now unusually nervous in a way that she didn't experience often. She always considered herself to her strong both physically and emotionally, but this was a tough situation to keep her composure in.

✧.* Abby was greeted with the sight of you sitting a chair placed against the wall, a tentative but sweet smile on your face. Her heart-rate began to speed up even more than it already was. Her boss spoke up behind her, wearing a tender smile. "She says she'd like to thank you," closing the door behind him. You took a deep breath. "I hope this isn't weird that I just..showed up at your job." Abby quickly shook her head, holding her hands out in a friendly gesture. "No, don't worry. Are you doing okay, though?" Her voice was laced with care, making your cheeks heat up. "Yeah. My parents, they're great people. I'm going to be staying with them until I'm able to afford a new place to stay." Abby smiled softly, for some reason the thought of your parents made her heart tender. "That's good to hear." The silence that followed wasn't exactly uncomfortable, and you couldn't help but get to the point. "Look.. I know it's your job and all, but you seriously saved me in a way I can't repay. I wasn't there, but Minka means everything to me." Your words almost brought tears to her eyes for some strange reason. Abby would like to find irritation in the way you made her so emotional at the flashback to your tears and sweet voice thanking her, calling her your hero, but she couldn't. "Well, I appreciate your gratitude. I don't hear that a lot," she admitted, and it was true. Abby had her friends and everyone in the community respected everyone who worked at the fire station, but she rarely heard appreciation like this. She knew that even if this was the last time she'd see you, your appreciation would stick with her. You looked genuinely shocked by that. "Well, I think you deserve so much appreciation. You put yourself at risk like that for my cat, and not everyone really cares for pets, you know?" Abby agreed with that statement, she knew it first-hand. Unfortunately when it came to rescues, pets weren't the priority. Your situation wasn't rare but it wasn't as common as others. "Well, I'm extremely glad I was able to save your cat. I can tell she's a sweet thing. Purred in my arms as I held her," she smiled as she recalled Minka's vibrations as as she was cradled in her arms. You laughed at that, your sweet smile only widening. "That means she likes you.." You trailed off, clearly meaning to say more. "Look...I feel like I owe you." Abby shook her head at that, her voice assuring. "Really, it's just my job to help in situations like that-" You cut her off, looking adamant, "Please? Just.. please, hear me out." She looked at your face, noting the look in your eyes. She slowly nodded. "I was thinking.. maybe I owe you a date?" Your voice, so sweet and friendly, rang in her ears. Date. You wanted a date with her? She didn't think much before she quickly accepted.

✧.* Abby, in her old ford pick-up truck, showed up at your parent's home with a bouquet of flowers. She didn't know what type was your favorite, so she went with white and pink roses. A little boring, but classics. It was a plus that the soft, pink petals reminded her of you.

✧.* When Abby was met with your parents at your front door, she felt like she was living out her old dreams of having a genuine high-school romance. Your folks were kind and thanked her for her rescue, even assuring her that she could come over anytime she'd like. Now, that made Abby a bit emotional. She was also emotional upon seeing the tiny black and white cat curled up on the living room couch, safe and content.

✧.* Abby and you just fit together well; the whole ride to the diner she wanted to bring you to went well. She told you riddles and made you laugh and in exchange, you offered up stories of Minka. You told her all about how she was a stray cat who would meow at your door for food and Abby's cheeks turned red thinking about you not hesitating to adopt a cat who had a hard childhood. She felt grateful that the sun was nowhere in the sky, only the moon and many stars so you couldn't see how flustered the thought made her.

✧.* Abby and you laughed away at dinner about countless memories the two of you could think of. Abby told you all about her friend-group and her own gay awakening. You only smiled and confessed that yours was a girl on the school soccer team at 13. Abby told you all about what happened with her parents, what her dreams were, even some of her fears. She didn't know why she felt the need to tell you all of this, but you only looked at her with sympathy and understanding, and you seemed to open up to her, too. For once, she felt understood.

✧.* After the two of you finished eating, you insisted that you pay since you somehow still owe her being her hero and now, apparently you owed her for the beautiful flowers, which you claimed were your favorite. Abby insisted that you needed to save your money after the incident and assured you that your time was payment enough. That made your heart jump out of your chest; how was she so intimidatingly-looking but the sweetest girl you'd ever met? You were in awe.

✧.* On the way home, you noticed an abandoned parking lot beside the highway, probably from an old gas station or restaurant and asked Abby to stop so that you could show her the constellations. She happily agreed, turning into the parking lot and putting her manual into park. She watched as you excitedly stepped out of her truck and laughed, quickly joining you to stand beside you.

✧.* Abby's face once again turned red and her palms grew sweaty when you interlocked your fingers with hers, gazing over to smile at her in the moonlight. Then, you ranted about the stars. You told her all about Orion, your favorite constellation. Abby was mesmerized by the way your found grew in pitch and how your words came out faster than usual when you got excited about something. Fuck, maybe you were already growing on her. She hoped you would like a second date after this. She'd spend all her money from her job on dates like these just to feel the intense pull you had surrounding you. She found herself hanging off of your every word, even though she was just some firefighter who knew nothing about astronomy.

✧.* When you finished your rant about the Big Dipper, she couldn't help herself. She spoke up, voice low and somewhat shy, "Hey.." You smiled and turned to face her, slightly caught off guard by her sudden words. "What's up?" She sighed. She needed to take this chance, you were like the girl of her dreams standing in front of her, ranting about something so cool. "Can I kiss you?" Butterflies hit your stomach, and you didn't hesitate to nod. Abby gently cupped your face and took her time to lean in. When her lips met yours, she swore the stars in the sky all increased in their luminosity.

✧.* Your lips were so soft and tasted like skittles, she thought it was the sweetest thing. Abby took her time to kiss you, not rushing the embrace but instead allowing herself to appreciate being able to kiss you like the two of you were the only people in the world. When she softly pulled away, breathless without even really kissing you that long, you pulled her in once more by the back of the neck and she eagerly parted her lips for you. The next kiss was more heated and passionate, leaving you pressed up against the side of her truck. Your tongue found hers and she moaned at the feeling. She didn't stop herself from taking your bottom lip into her mouth and giving it a soft suck. When you had to pull away for air this time, breathless and your face hot, Abby trailed her wet lips down your the column of your throat, her voice low and heated, "backseats?" And just like that, you were pulling at the truck's backdoor with a cheeky giggle.

✧.* The heated but passionate make-out session fogged up the windows but only turned into more. Soon, you were both naked in her backseat with your cunts making a noticeably loud squelching sound every time they met. It was the most emotional fuck of Abby's life. You couldn't stop leaving kisses all over her skin wherever you could reach, and she knew she could be guiding your hips to make the sensations even better, but all she really wanted to do was hold your hands and tell you how lucky she felt to have you like this, how beautiful you were. The truck was humid and cramped, and since it was the first time the awkward giggles and shaky hands were present, but Abby loved every single second of it. She was pretty sure her truck was moving along with them, but she couldn't care. She was only able to feel how your warm cunt ground against hers at the perfect angle to lavish sensations onto her clits, making her head spin with the need to have you as hers for as long as possible and her, yours.

✧.* The sex was desperate and made her lose her mind with the need to cum, but still slow. Tribbing itself is a lot of work but so very intimate that it can last longer if she needs it to, and she needed it to. She didn't want to stop feeling you like this. She never thought of herself as a vulgar person, but the feeling of your pussy, the way your breath hitched and you even let out soft moans of pleasure when your clit felt their actions only made her want you in the most intense ways.

✧.* The orgasm was the best one she had ever received. You were both moaning together and sweaty, waves of pleasured sharing you. She swore she felt a string connecting the both of you, not only your connected pussies but also your hearts. It wasn't like one singular snap between her legs, but an ongoing slaught of euphoria that she didn't think would ever end. Abby didn't want it to. She wished she could stay in that truck with you forever, just feeling your lips plastered over her skin and your hips meeting hers.

✧.* You didn't mind another round, and Abby happily spent the rest of the hour with her finger buried deep inside you and yours in her own cunt, gifting each other yet another beautiful orgasm. It wasn't exactly the same, your own curling of fingers onto her spongey walls at various paces and times while her own pace grew along with your moans, but it somehow caused the next peak to end up even more special as the first.

✧.* When it was over, it was 9 and Abby still had time to kill. She held you in her arms, legs tangled up together and for just a while, she forgot everything else but what just happened with you. She held you tightly to her and when you both came down from the after-math, you shared little laughs and Abby's voice came through so sweetly and somehow shy, even after all that happened. "Would you wanna do this again?" You laughed and kissed her cheek. "I dunno if I can handle another round, but I wish." She giggled, so sweetly and loving, "I meant another date, dumbass." At that, you sighed and squeezed her. "Oh, well that makes more sense. Yeah, I'd like another date."

[ghostsandguns]

Task Force 141 as firefighters

Imagine moving to a different place and not being prepared for how much work your new home needs. Unfortunately, it's just you and your lack of handy skills.

So, maybe the wallpaper isn't perfectly aligned, the table wobbles with every touch, and you can't get the window to close properly, but none of that really matters—as long as it’s livable, right?

Wrong. You're overwhelmed and on the brink of tears; the room feels too hot yet cold at the same time. Everything was going fine until you misstepped on the ladder, crashing down and twisting your ankle into a painful, throbbing mess.

And now you've still got those stupid fire detectors to install. Tears stream down your face as you call your sister, desperate to vent. Between your sobs, she calmly suggests you to reach out to your local fire department.

A man answers the phone, his voice low and gravelly, almost bored. ''Fire department.'' You awkwardly murmur your name, but he cuts you off before you can say anything else. ''Speak up.''

You try again, louder this time, stumbling over your words as you explain you need help. When you mention your address, he simply responds with a sharp ''Alright'' before hanging up without another word.

Flabbergasted, you stare at your phone. What the hell was his problem? You half-expect them to bail entirely, judging by the man's attitude. But then, the doorbell rings.

Wincing as you limp toward the door, you expect maybe one or two firefighters, just as a formality. Instead, you open the door to find a whole damn truck parked out front, with four of them standing there, towering over you like a small army.

''Heard ye needed a hand, lass,'' one of them says with a grin, moving to step inside like he lives there. You blink, still in shock, but let them into your house. The sound of heavy boots fills the hallway as they move about.

''Well then, miss,'' the older one speaks up. ''Where'd you want those fire detectors?'' He holds his hands out, as if expecting you to hand them over to him, which you obediently do.

You're about to lead them to the kitchen when you feel a hand on your shoulder. Glancing up you meet dark, unreadable eyes beneath a head of blonde.

''Ankle doesn't look too good,'' he observes flatly, his voice—the same one you spoke with on the phone—makes the recognition hit you. ''Kyle, you should take care of that.''

Before you know it, his colleague, presumably Kyle, has you sitting in a chair, your throbbing ankle propped up on his knee as he gently treats it with a pack of ice he pulled from your freezer.

True to their word, they install both fire detectors without issue. What you didn't expect, however, was for them to fix the leaking sink and the stubborn window as well.

You barely have a chance to thank them before they're packing up and heading out. The friendly Scotsman stops at the door, casually mentioning they'll be ''back tomorrow, same time'' to finish the rest.

Left standing there, speechless with your ice pack in hand, you find yourself oddly looking forward to your next meeting.

141 as EMT and police

[danandfuckingjonlmao]

do you ever think about how we have phannies in every field? like we have doctors and baristas and mental health therapists and geologists and audiologists and engineers and neuroscientists and authors and social media consultants and activists and child care workers and museum managers and teachers and biologists and emts and linguists and accessibility coaches and sign language interpreters and artists and musicians and editors and actors and chefs and fucking EVERYTHING. not to mention the specific knowledge bases and hobbies we have outside of our professions—coding, linguistic and cultural diversity, artistic creativity, political/social awareness, passion for justice, research, make up and hair and fashion design, media literacy, philosophy, all of our special interests/hyperfixations, etc. we could run a successful commune no problem at all. we’re so smart and talented and resourceful and powerful.

the phandom is rooted in a past of being infamously shitty, and i do see yall slipping back into old habits sometimes (mostly on twitter but sometimes here and you know it <3) but it’s pretty fucking cool how capable this community is and our ability to unify. anyway phanmune when.

(if you want, leave your knowledge base/skills in the tags or replies. can be profession, hobby, major/program of study, what you study in your free time, what you want to learn about, what you’re interested, all of the above, anything)