#exchange patient data

[waterlilydrops]

The Perfect Way

pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!reader

summary: In the grid, you’re more of Lewis’s crew member compared to Charles's girlfriend, and even your inner thoughts echo this sentiment. Charles found the perfect way to announce to everyone that he also has your heart.

word count: 3k

warning: fluff, Mercedes analyst!reader, platonic!Lewis Hamilton x reader, mention of Lewis to Ferrari, mention of marriage, Charles is also strategizing for himself off the track, pretend that Red Bull’s rocket does not exist, humiliation of Mercedes’ tractor

notes: English is not my first language, so please point out mistakes if there are any. Ideas and suggestions are greatly welcomed.

Yas Marina Circuit, 2023

As Charles and Lewis entered the final corner, Charles could feel his heart racing at its fastest. Lewis was on much fresher tyres that he were, and this was his last chance.

The two cars raced wheel-to-wheel with barely any space between them. Charles pushed as hard as he could, trying overtake, but Lewis refused to relent, staying right beside him.

They almost crossed the chequered flag at the same time.

Charles slowed down his car as he drove around for the cool down lap. “It’s a photo finish, we are still waiting for the results,” Xavi said through the radio.

Charles’ heart hung in mid-air. He had a premonition that fate had something in store for him, but he feel unsettled until it was finally confirmed.

Impatiently, his fingers tapped on the steering wheel. The roar of engines and the clamor of the audience now seemed muted. It felt like it had been a century.

“P1, Charles, P1. Congrats.” Xavi’s excitement came through the speakers.

“Yessssss! Yeeeesssss! I can’t believe it… thank you team!” He could hear his heart pounding in his chest, exhilaration coursing through his veins, Charles’ hand sticking out the top to wave as he drove significantly slower.

With these points, he won the second place of the drivers championship, more importantly, Ferrari defeated Mercedes in the WCC.

As soon as Charles emerged from his car, the deafening roar of the crowd filled the air. fireworks went off in the sky, the entire team burst out of the garage, their hands reaching out from every direction to pat Charles on the shoulders and celebrate with him.

He removed his helmet and passed it to the nearest pair of hands, pulling off his balaclava and tousling his sweaty hair.

Amidst the chaos of the cheering fans and ecstatic team members, Charles exchanged hugs and handshakes with his crew and friends, each congratulating him on the hard-fought triumph.

However, as he scanned the crowd and caught sight of you celebrating with the Mercedes team, his heart sank at the sight.

You were standing beside Lewis, your arms were wrapped around each other, your smile radiant, celebrating your teams remarkable performance.

Charles stood by the barriers, various thoughts swirling in his mid. Feeling like a lemon, freshly squeezed of its sweetness, and left with only bitterness behind, he knew that while he stood victorious, you were sharing in the success of another driver.

He certainly respected your profession and felt proud of your excellent work performance as a data analyst. He also admired your good relationship with colleagues.

But he couldn't help but wonder, amidst the rush of crossing the finish line, does your heart secretly yearn for Lewis to reclaim the long-lost win, or does it beat fervently for his own triumph? It's a question he knows he will never able to ask about.

He waited patiently, his emotions a tumultuous mix of pride and envy.

Finally, as you broke away from your team, Charles stepped forward, his smile strained as he tried to mask the jealousy and hurt bubbling inside him.

The joy of seeing your boyfriend and boss together on the podium filled your heart, of course you didn’t feel Charles’ subtle emotions.

You barreled into him, brought him in for a hug, your hand touched his flushed face, warmed by the heat and dehydration, “Congratulations Charlie, P1, I'm so proud of you.”

When his eyes met yours, seeing your pure, happy, ear to ear smile, his thoughts were instantly pushed aside. He leaned onto you, you can felt he put his head down against yours, his hands were tightly around your waist, his lips met yours in a kiss.

At least you are happy for his win. At least you will celebrate with him tonight.

Christmas, 2023

The long season finally comes to an end; there's nothing better than spending Christmas with family.

Inside the house, the Christmas tree stood adorned with a myriad of twinkling lights, the scent of cinnamon and pine wafted through the air, further enhancing the ambiance of the season.

As you sat by the crackling fireplace, the flickering flames cast a gentle glow, painting the room with hues of amber and gold. The comforting heat of the fire embraced you, creating a cozy haven from the chilly winter night.

You nestled against the plush cushions, Charles rested his head on your shoulder. Engrossed in casual conversation, you both exchanged lighthearted banter while idly scrolling through your phones, relishing the simple joy of each other's company.

Outside the window, the mountains appeared majestic and serene under the moonlight, and you both occasionally gazed out, admiring the beauty of the snowflakes dancing in the air.

Suddenly, the tranquil atmosphere was interrupted by the ringtone of Charles’ phone. With lighting speed, he sprang up from you, saying, “Work call, sorry, Cherie.”

The thick stack of confidentiality contracts you both signed certainly includes not taking work calls in front of each other.

A few minutes later, while you were discussing tomorrow's lunch plans after skiing with Pascale and your mom, Charles reappeared in the living room.

His green eyes sparkled with excitement, his lips curled up slightly, as if about to burst with anticipation.

He walked over to you, took your hand, “Let me borrow her for a minute,” he said, giving moms a sweet smile they couldn't resist.

He guided you towards the couch, gently pressed you down onto it and settled down beside you. “You won't believe what I just heard—”

“Love — think about the agreements, please double check in your head if this is something I can hear,” you said, shaking your head with a smile.

He hesitated for a brief moment, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his eyes. The reminder of the confidentiality agreement lingered in his mind, urging caution. Yet, the anticipation of sharing the news with you proved too tempting to resist.

“I believe you’ll know it eventually, especially considering you are working with—” He paused, torn between his desire to confide in you and the obligation to maintain confidentiality.

You sensitively caught the key words, which aroused your interest: “Who am I working with? Andrew? Is he leaving Mercedes?”

Charles shook his head, “Of course not.” His expression was incredibly conflicted, clearly indicating that his mind was wrestling with the breaking news he was about to disclose.

You eagerly grasped his hand, urging, “Please, Charlie, I’ll definitely keep it confidential. Besides, you said it's something I'll eventually know, right?”

Taking a deep breath, Charles steeled himself, “Okay, okay,” he began, his voice lowered but filled with excitement and disbelief. “Lewis is going to be my teammate in 2025!”

Your eyes widened in shock, unable to believe what you just heard. The news hit you like a bolt from the blue, and for a moment, you were speechless.

In that moment, a whirlwind of thoughts and questions raced through your mind. When did Lewis decide to leave Mercedes? Who would fill the void? How would the rivalry between Lewis and Charles unfold on the track? What might be the potential impact of this change on the dynamics of the paddock? These thoughts fluttered in your mind like snowflakes outside the window, making you unable to stop pondering.

Until Charles's hand waved in front of your eyes, you regained your voice. “Are you serious?” you finally managed to blurt out.

Charles nodded.

You asked the question that had been burning in your mind: “So, still free to fight?”

Charles shrugged nonchalantly, though you could sense the underlying tension. “I'm used to it,” he admitted with a small smile, his hand finding its way to your knee in a comforting gesture. “Are you planning to join Ferrari?”

You shook your head, your thoughts scattered and uncertain. “I don't know,” you rambled, your voice reflecting the turmoil within, “Depends on if Lewis needs me. I can't just text him now saying I know you are going to Ferrari... Do I need to take a gardening leave or something like that? Although there's really nothing worth leaking from Mercedes' tractor data...”

Charles widened his eyes in disbelief, momentarily caught off guard by your jest. He reached out to affectionately pinch your cheek, a fond smile tugging at his lips. “Hey, girl, You even thought about gardening leave! When I asked you to come to Ferrari before, you ruthlessly rejected me!”

Almost the entire family's gaze turned toward this small corner, you were too late to cover Charles's mouth.

Your sibling curiously asked what was happening, and Charles shook his head with a playful grin, before loudly accusing, “I knew I was never her favorite driver.”

“I promise you, if I join Ferrari, I'll make sure to join your crew after every race to celebrate, just like Fabrizio did,” you say, embracing Charles's neck.

He lowered his head and kissed your lips, “Deal.”

At that moment, Charles felt a sense of comfort and reassurance knowing that you cared about his situation and were there to share in his excitement and uncertainty. and you believed in him to do his best even under high-intensity competition.

Even if he wasn't your favorite driver.

Summer break, 2024

You decided to spend a few days during the summer break on the island of Capri. The area where the yacht stopped was very quiet, with specks of light shimmering on the sea surface through gaps in the clouds. The sky and the water dyed the whole world with shades of blue, and the sea breeze felt like it too was blue.

It seemed like this place only belonged to the two of you.

You chatted about everything, from the important to the trivial. You were going to karting in a couple of days — Charles mentioned how he missed the feeling of driving; shared thoughts on the risky design of the Red Bull’s zero-pod. Talked about when the race started, you absolutely had to try the croissants at Alpine's hospitality. They had a new executive chef.

Suddenly, you remembered something and turn to look at him:“Babe, I’ll transfer my half of the vacation expenses to your account a bit later. Sorry. ”

Charles said nonchalantly, “I never bother to check my bank account. Besides, you shouldn't even give me the money, mon cher.”

He suddenly realized what you said and asked about your financial situation. “I do wanna take care of you and pay all the bills for you. But you never worry about money before. Is everything okay?”

“Don't worry,” you reassured him, offering a gentle smile, “Just I may have a large expense recently. Plus, we won't have bonuses for the first half of the season.”

Charles' concern lingered, his green eyes reflecting genuine care. “What could it be? Is there anything I can help with?”

You explained, “Because I need to pool money with the team to buy Lewis an expensive farewell gift.”

Charles teased: “Lewis is a billionaire, he should be the one giving you guys gifts.”

“Surely he does, he often gives us gifts.” You raised your hand, revealing the exquisite watch hidden beneath the sleeve of your cover-ups to Charles. “If it weren't for Lewis, I probably wouldn't have bought such an expensive watch in my lifetime. It would just make me robbed.”

“Hey! I got that watch back.” Charles straightened up, he couldn't believe you were actually joking him with this. He exclaimed loudly as if he was defending the safety situation of Italy.

“Because it was too special to sell.”

He reached out and pulled you close to him, starting to tickle you.

“Stop! Please stop Charles! Sorry, I’m sorry! I said I am sorry!” You couldn't help but laugh uncontrollably.

Charles finally stopped, letting you lean against his sunburnt chest, “So, what gift are you planning to give Lewis?”

You replied while stroke the stubble of his chin, which is tinted with a shade of blue, “we haven’t decided yet. Maybe a custom-designed ring, you know, something to memorize the years we have spent together in our careers.”

Charles's expression seemed slightly unhappy, he sighed softly and whispered, “You've never bought me a ring.”

Caught off guard by his remark, you paused, realizing he didn’t seem to be joking.

You took a moment to gather your thoughts before gently explaining, “Babe, the meaning of a ring is different for everyone. For Lewis and us, it's about marking our journey together, our shared experiences. Don’t take it seriously, OK?”

But Charles wasn't convinced. His brows furrowed as he argued, “If you're giving Lewis a ring, why not me? Why should he get something that symbolizes memories, but I don't?”

Feeling the tension rising, you tried to reason with him. “Charles, it's not about favoritism or comparison. If I give you a ring, it might seem a bit like a promising ring, I think we—”

He interrupted you, “What's wrong with a promise ring? Don't you want to marry me? Besides not being your favorite driver, now you don't even want to marry me?”

“I do wanna marry you one day but the ring is about commitment and we—”

Charles said firmly, “I want commitment. I want a promise ring.”

His frustration was evident in his voice as he continued , “I want to feel that commitment, that symbol of our love and memories. Why can’t you understand that?”

You feel torn inside, on one hand, you desire to make him happy, on the other hand, you worry if this is too much.

Sensing the conflict within you, Charles softened his tone. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you,” he said, reaching out to gently caress your cheek. “I just want to feel as cherished and valued as the way you treat Lewis.”

His vulnerability melted your resolve. You took his hand and met his gaze. “Okay, babe,” you said softly. “I hear you. I will find a ring that represent our love and fit your beautiful eyes.”

A sense of relief washed over Charles's heart as he pulled you into a tight embrace. If you look at his face, you'll notice a confident, victorious smile hanging on his lips.

He won. He knew the last thing you would do is make him upset.

“And,” Charles added, deciding to push himself to the limit and capitalize on his momentum. “I was thinking, if I win in Monza, would you give me another gift?”

You were both annoyed and amused by his words, “You want to monopolize all the good things in the world? The ring is yours, victory is yours, what else do you want?”

You couldn't help but start calculating your bank balance in your mind.

“Give me the ring in front of the audience, after race.” Charles said, giving you the puppy dog eyes as he glanced at you from under his shamefully long lashes.

Fight dirty.

Monza circuit, 2024

Grid is not the best place for keeping secrets.

If Pierre knew about Lewis's and Ferrari's contract signing earlier than the media, he would certainly know about your plan to give Charles a ring after race. Unfortunately, gossips spread particularly quickly during race week.

“From Single to Taken: il Predestinato’s Surprise Engagement”

“Love in the Limelight: Leclerc’s girl spotted Ring Shopping - Wedding Plans Underway!”

“Counting the top ten jewelry brands, who will Y/N Y/LN choose to propose to Leclerc?”

“Mrs. Leclerc soon to be? Can Mercedes data analyst continue to work after marriage?”

With each passing lap, the anticipation mounted, reaching a fever pitch as the checkered flag loomed ever closer. And then, in a blaze of glory, Charles crossed the finish line, the victor of the race. The crowd erupted into cheers, celebrating his triumph.

“Congratulations to Leclerc, he has now achieved a three heads wins—”

“Honestly, I really don't want to see Charles and Ms Y/LN standing together... even if it's just behind the barrier... oh my god, He's climbed over the barrier... I have a feeling something is about to happen!”

Charles stood before you. His tousled hair, the color of midnight, framing his face in a disheveled yet undeniably alluring manner. Despite the weariness etched in the lines around his eyes, there is a fire within his green eyes, and beads of sweat glisten on his chiseled jawline.

“I don't know if there are any words in this world that can describe your talent and determination. You are my David, my sun, and the god of gods atop Olympus. If you allow me to boldly place this ring on your finger, I would be honored beyond measure. So, Mr. Leclerc, would you accept my ring?”

“Before I can even think of a reason to say no, hurry up.”

“Um, Charlie, a gentleman would typically say 'I'll consider it' at a time like this.” You reminded him, glanced at the Netflix earpiece almost hanging next to your nose.

Charles tilted his head innocently towards you, not retracting his hand from under your eyelids. “I've been considering for months now, so you better hurry.”

You slowly took the ring out of the box, but Charles appeared somewhat impatient, eagerly took the box from your hand. He seemed to have waited too long, hastily removed the ring from the box and skillfully placed it on his own finger.

You couldn't help but laugh, and as you leaned in to press a tender kiss against Charles' lips, you knew that this was just the beginning of your journey together.

“Hey Lewis, take a look at this!”

“Wow, it’s very beautiful, matches the color of your eyes. Congrats mate, is that what I think it is?”

“Unfortunately, no. It’s a promising ring.”

“Uh, Sorry, I thought she finally agreed to marry you.”

“...One day she will, won't she?”

“If you treat her favorite driver better, I reckon someone might put in a good word for you.”

Here is a BONUS PART, enjoy!

[oneshotnewbie]

If you come back soon could I pretty please request an Amelia (greys) one shot where the reader is her girlfriend and is brought to the ER in critical condition as Jane Doe but as soon as Amelia sees her she’s hysterical and all she wants to is reasure and hold the readers hand! YOU WOULD MAKE MY QUARANTINE SO MUCH BETTER I LOVE YOUR WORKS SM

Authors note: So... um... I know I waited so long to post this request but... I HAVE MISSED IT IN MY INBOX FOR SO LONG AND WHEN I FOUND IT TWO DAYS AGO, I WROTE IT IMMEDIATELY! I am so sorry. I hope you're still out there somewhere recognizing your request and reading it ♥

ᕚ---ᕘ

The hustle and bustle of the emergency room echoed through the cold hallways as the double doors were pushed apart to make way for the ambulance crew and their critical patient. The vehicle's red and blue lights cast flickering shadows on the walls, while the howling sound of the approaching accident conveyed to hospital staff the urgency of the situation.

The paramedics, with serious faces and rustling uniforms, wheeled the gurney into the emergency room. An unknown woman lay on the stretcher, pale and motionless, only the shallow rise and fall of her chest showed any life. A white sheet covered her completely, and her blood-stained hair stuck damply to her forehead. The slow, monotonous beep of the portable monitor accompanied every breath.

Dr. Hunt, the emergency physician in charge, immediately rushed to the bed. His expression was professional, but the depth of his gaze betrayed some concern. The nurses and also Dr. Keppner rushed to help the team take over.

"What do we have?" Owen asked as he looked over the medical file one of the paramedics handed him. "Unknown female person, middle-aged, found unconscious in a park, presumably after an attack. Stabbed in the chest and abdomen. We cannot say any more. No identification and no indication of possible previous illnesses."

The paramedics quickly explained the course of events, how they found the patient and what first aid measures they had taken. The information was relayed with the precision of a well-trained team, but uncertainty about who the woman was and what had happened to her hung in the air.

While Hunt and Keppner began checking vital signs, the unknown woman was wheeled into an examination room. The nurses exchanged hand signals and quietly instructed each other on the next steps. The background noise is a chaotic orchestra of clanging instruments, murmuring conversations and the beeping of medical equipment.

April Keppner leaned over the patient and began a thorough examination. She checked the pupillary reaction, palpated the pulse and analyzed the respiratory rate. The monitors showed unstable readings and the two doctors' facial expressions hardened. A quick look between the two revealed that they were worried.

"We need a CT scan immediately," Owen said, turning to the nurses present. "I also want blood samples for a comprehensive analysis. Let the lab know it's urgent."

While preparations for further examinations were underway, the nurses and doctors tried to keep the unknown woman stable. An intravenous line was placed and fluids began flowing through her derm. The monitors continued to show jittery signals and the tension in the room increased.

"Call Dr. Shephard and Dr. Altmann. I want them here as quickly as possible!" He ordered as he continued to analyze the data on the screen. "And someone should inform the police. We have to find out who she is and what happened in order to prevent further damage."

The exam room was now in a coordinated state of emergency and in a room that was normally a place of rescue, the medical team battled uncertainty and a race against time to save a woman's life. He was abuzz as the neurosurgeon and cardiologist burst through the door almost simultaneously with quick steps. Their eyes were focused, the rubber of their Crocs squeaking in unison with the machines.

"Shephard, the patient is exhibiting unstable neurological signs. The CT scan and blood results are pending," she informed Hunt as he cleared the way for her to the bed.

Amelia nodded curtly and fully entered the room, closing the door behind her. A glance at the monitor and the papers on the tablet caused her eyes to flash briefly before she focused back on the patient. However, as she leaned over the lounger, she froze.

Her features slipped away, the slight smile on her lips fading as she realized who was in front of her. The woman on the lounger was none other than you. Hunt and Keppner stared at her as she noticed her reaction, not understanding why she didn't move forward with her work. "Amelia, we have a critical situation here. The patient's identity is unknown and her values are concerning. We urgently need your expertise!"

Amelia shook her head slightly, as if she could push reality away. Her heart raced as she double-checked that her eyes weren't playing tricks on her. "This is y/n. Y/n y/l/n. She's my girlfriend. Find her family, get them here!" A strangled sound escaped her throat and the world around her seemed to stand still for a moment as she processed the shock.

The emotional rollercoaster went through all the ups and downs, from worrying about you to the overwhelming need to stay in control. Her hands shook slightly as she reached for your lifeless and bloody hand.

"Y/n," Amelia whispered with a strangled sound in her voice and the two doctors and friends of the neurosurgeon were also dumbfounded, their breath catching in their throats. "What happened to you?"

Owen Hunt moved closer and tried to reassure her, while also conveying the urgency and explaining the neurological details. But Amelia only heard fragments. Her gaze was lost in your eyes, which were closed as if you were in a deep sleep.

"Amelia, I know it's hard. But we have to act immediately. The CT results are crucial and we have to find out what happened to her to prevent something worse. She could die!" April urged, concerned about her colleague's professionalism.

But Amelia couldn't let go. She ignored the two of them, her focus solely on you. The world outside the exam room seemed to fade as she held your hand tightly. "Y/n, you have to hold on. You can do this," she whispered in your ear, tears of despair welling up in her eyes. "You're strong, you know? We'll get through this together."

In her emotional despair, an internal struggle unfolded within Amelia. Her professional self fought against her personal connection to you. The shouts of other doctors and nurses became a muffled background noise as she refused to loosen her grip on your cold hand.

"Amelia," Owen Hunt spoke in a calm but firm voice. "We need you now. She needs you now. Let's find out what happened to her together.

A conflict between duty and personal pain raged within Amelia. Finally, she reluctantly gave in and removed her hand from yours. However, her gaze remained focused on you, and concern for you was reflected deep in her eyes. She struggled with fear for you as she prepared to resume her professional role as a neurosurgeon.

A deep breath flowed through her body and with a firm resolve she wiped the tears from her cheeks and turned her gaze to the surroundings. "Dr. Hunt, take her to the CT immediately. She's probably having a brain bleed." she spoke, her voice firm. The neurosurgical focus returned fully, analyzing the medical indicators.

The trauma surgeon nodded in agreement and began giving the necessary instructions, getting you up to the CT scanner. Amelia stayed at your side, letting go of your hand for a moment to oversee the diagnostic process.

The minutes that passed felt like hours. The results of the CT scan appeared on the screen, and Amelia scanned the images with a trained eye. She analyzed each region of the brain, looking for signs of bleeding, injury or other abnormalities. The intensity of her concentration was palpable, and the medical staff eagerly awaited her assessment.

"We have severe damage to the frontal lobe," Amelia explained, swallowing hard as she continued to study the images. "It looks like a severe traumatic brain injury. We need to operate immediately to relieve the pressure and prevent further damage."

The team immediately began preparing for the operation. The sterile atmosphere of the operating room seemed to embrace Amelia as her professional role took over. In her surgical uniform, surrounded by a team of experienced professionals, she struck her familiar Superman pose and focused on the procedure ahead.

During the operation, which lasted several hours, your girlfriend showed an impressive mix of calm and precision. Her hands worked in sync with the instruments as she gently treated the damaged tissue. Monitors in the operating room recorded progress, and the medical team closely followed their experienced leader's every move.

After what seemed like endless hours, but which passed like seconds, she finally closed the last stitches and the atmosphere relaxed slightly, but the uncertainty about the outcome of the operation weighed heavily on her.

Amelia let out a frustrated gasp before exiting the operating room, tearing off her gloves and hood. She immediately went to the waiting area to inform your siblings and parents. The tension in her chest eased as she saw the expectant looks of the people who were now her family and your sister immediately threw her arms around her.

"The operation is complete," Amelia began, trying to keep her voice steady as she also clung to your sister to keep her emotions at bay. "It was a complex brain injury for reasons still unknown, but I did everything I could. The next step now is to wait and hope she remains stable."

Your family breathed a sigh of relief as Amelia explained more details about the condition and cooperation with the police. Her words were reassuring to your sister, but she still felt the knot in her stomach. The outcome of the operation was uncertain, and there was no way of knowing whether you would ever wake up and be your old self again.

In the silence of the hospital hallway, as she left the waiting people behind, a moment of exhaustion overcame her. Her eyes wandered back to the exam room where she found you in. The image of you on the lounger didn't fade, but Amelia found comfort in the fact that she had saved you. Now things could only go uphill and she couldn't wait to look into your beautiful eyes again.

[cirilla-fiona-riannon]

Secret in your Heart

These translations are not intended as a replacement for the game. Please support Cybird by buying their stories.

Expect grammatical errors. Not 100% accurate. Not proofread.

I was in the infirmary, tending to a minor injury, when I heard footsteps coming down the stairs.

Jude: "*coughs* Tch. Hurry."

Roger: "You talk like you're ordering a beer at a pub. Being short-tempered won't do you any good, you know?"

Roger: "Hm? Hey, what's the matter, little lady? Are you hurt?"

Kate: "Yes. Sorry, I borrowed some of your ointment."

Roger took out a syringe and a drug, swiftly injecting it into Jude's arm.

Kate: "W-What's that for?"

I couldn't help but ask, noticing the oddity in the flow of events.

Jude: "An unapproved, dangerous drug that hasn't even been clinically tested."

Kate: ".........."

Roger: "That suspicious look of yours is nice. You're lucky to have someone worry about you, Jude."

Roger: "I've tried everything, and this is the one that worked best for his symptoms."

Kate: "What's wrong with him?"

Jude was so unresponsive that I thought he couldn't hear me.

Roger: "He's almost cured now, but he used to have weak lungs."

Jude: "Hey, you're blabbering patient information carelessly, you quack."

Jude: "Ah, damn it. I still feel dizzy. You probably got the dosage wrong."

Roger: "Even if I make a mistake, I still don't know what the right dosage is because I'm still collecting data."

Kate: "Wouldn't it be fatal to Jude if you injected a lethal dose?"

Roger: "Hahaha! Maybe."

(Maybe, you say?)

I couldn't help but be stunned at the sight of Jude, who looked so unconcerned.

A few days after that exchange, I found Jude smoking in the lounge.

(I think Roger mentioned something about him having respiratory problems.)

Kate: "Should you be smoking?"

Jude: ".........."

He briefly took his gaze from the complicated book he was reading, then completely ignored me.

(Worrying about him seems like a waste of time.)

Kate: "I heard it could be beneficial as a medicine in the past, but now I hear that it can actually be harmful."

Kate: "Maybe you should quit since Roger is taking the trouble to treat you."

Jude: "It's not a treatment but rather an experiment."

(I guess that's true.)

He was reading a book while puffing on a cloud of smoke.

Jude loved money and other people's misfortune and always had sarcastic remarks whenever he opened his mouth.

But for some reason, his usual arrogance was nowhere to be found, and he looked tired, which worried me a little.

Jude: "What's with all the gawking?"

I still felt like his words lacked energy, and he looked out of sorts.

Kate: "Are you that busy with work?"

Victor told me that he was running a trading company and was also dabbling in the financial business.

I also heard that he and Ellis occasionally go out to collect debts in person.

(He also has responsibilities in the Crown, so it's not surprising if he's exhausted.)

Jude: "It's none of yer business."

Kate: "Are you not getting enough sleep?"

Jude: "That's none of yer business, either."

His voice seemed to be slightly hoarse.

Kate: "I still think you should quit smoking."

Jude: "..........."

He pushed his cigarette into the ashtray and lifted my chin.

Jude: "If you're willing to kiss me, then why not?"

Kate: "Ha!?"

I stared at him up close, and he quickly let go as if he had grown tired of playing with a toy.

Jude: "Of course, it's a joke. Why are ya taking it so seriously?"

(And to think that I'm worried about you!)

Jude: "I can't die because of some shitty promise. And I can't do it without smoking cigarettes."

Kate: "Promise?"

Jude: "Tch."

His face contorted as if he had said something unnecessary.

Jude: "It's none of yer fucking business, so forget it."

(Promise to whom?)

(He can't die? Wait, is that what he's living for?)

As I stared at his profile, several questions popped into my head.

These questions lingered in my chest like cigarette smoke, creating a hazy uneasiness.

➟ Collection Event Masterlist

[dopamineeymineymoo]

suspension bridges || ghost x f!medic!reader

synopsis: you are an army doctor, callsign salvi, who had been on the field for even before you'd gotten that title. you'd been reassigned into task force 1-4-1 after your own taskforce had dissolved when it'd fulfilled its duty. you're a familiar face to multiple operators within the taskforce. one of them knows you for far longer than the rest.

warnings: medical inaccuracies, army inaccuracies, some medical jargon, some gore, implied medical procedures, inexperienced writer, more tags to be added as we go

author's note before we begin: I’m writing this to destress from the gruelling pressure of academics– i'm not a professional, but i do study some of the stuff i mention, specifically on the health-allied colleges; there is also the fact that I’m not from the west side of the world so I know jack shit on the actual mode of operations (except in theory, because that’s what I’m learning ATM). This isn’t meant to be accurate, these are just dumbed-down versions of stuff I already know– i might learn more stuff later on so I might add it onto the thing later on]

[this is part 1], [part 2], [part 3 to be posted]

2022

When your Task Force dissolved, with multiple members having dispersed to different tasks and duties, the different offices within the old base had been dispersed into various different locations. You had been given privilege. It wasn’t really within the higher-up’s control to assign you to a different base.

Overall, it had been awfully easy to convince you. Price knew his cards, knew the people he was pulling. It made sense that the task force he’d organized would have good chemistry.

It was amusing. Familiar faces are always a fun thing.

There's no rest for the wicked, is what you often hear. It always applies to people in your line of work, being both a savior of lives and its taker.

Of course, there's no better ice-breaker or introduction into the field than an emergency evac. The first time you'd been called into your new base had been when duty calls. There were some familiar faces on the team of medics you'd been assigned with, brief introductions and ranks were exchanged, and it's off to work.

Squeaks is one. A familiar face, one you'd worked with before albeit very briefly.

"Give 'em hell, doc." she'd said when you'd stepped into the ramp of the aircraft.

And hell you did give. It wasn’t an infrequent occurrence with your line of work where you had to be pulled out of your station to hop onto an aircraft to retrieve injured soldiers. 

It’s been less than a week, about three days since you’d been reunited with some of your old patients, until your new patients ended up becoming recent.

“Reports as of ten minutes ago state that seven alert out of twelve, four obtunded, one is stuporous.” You take note, knowing that the rest of your team are listening in. Transcriptions of comms had been sent to you with data having already been filtered out appropriately. Need-to-know, is what it meant. 

You eye two people, and in order call them out by their surnames. “Squeaks and Trinity, you’re on triage.”

“Yes Captain.”

“Reyes, Smith, Aisling, you deal with the seven. Make sure they don’t bleed out and add to the less pleasant numbers.” You move past them as they move to their station on the aircraft. “Body transfers to the cots are on Jones and Brown. Take them off the soldiers’ hands– keep them off too if there are any with cold feet.” 

“The rest of us– two people require immediate intervention. One of them is in shock.” She hums, looking down at transcripts. “There were originally sixteen soldiers.” They knew what that meant. Two were KIA.

When the aircraft arrives in the landing zone, you and your team get into motion immediately. You help Jones and Brown in transferring the soldiers who can’t walk. Two soldiers that you don’t know personally help with setting the rest of the ones who need help walking inside the cot. 

The one who was stuporous had fallen into a coma, but with a working pulse, and the four had varying levels of prognosis at the current assessment. 

You’re used to this. The speed, the quickness in thinking and the steadiness while you work under these less-than-favorable circumstances. You’ve worked through worse, but that’s not a mindset you should get used to. Makes you complacent. There’s no room for complacency in this place. 

“Captain Salvi!” Squeaks calls, “Five out of sixteen aren’t on the vehicle.” You hear. 

You curse under your breath, “Squeaks, take over.” You wait for them to shuffle over and take over with keeping the soldier alive, before pulling back to walk towards the seven who were sat at the sides. From Squeaks, you take the tablet and swipe through the updated charts.

They’d reported the four missing names, reported well but unable to make it to exfil for whatever reason. 

They all stand in attention– all who can, that is. “At ease.” You tell them. “Where are your superiors.” 

One steps forward, “Ma’am, they’ve told us to head to exfil ahead of them.” He tells you. “They’re moving to another base, picked up by allies in Mexico.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Mexico?”

“That’s all we’re aware of as of now, ma’am.”

You breathe. Something's up, then. Your attention is called by the pilot in front. "Laswell's on comms." He'd said.

"Patch me in?"

“Watcher 1 to Echo 1-6, do you copy?”

“Solid copy, Watcher-1.” You retort, and look back at the soldiers before you. “Heal well, boys.” You say before backing off and walking back to the front of the plane. 

There’s a crackle on Laswell’s end, before she proceeds. “Price needs you ASAP, but there’s no time for RTB. You clear for an impromptu mission?”

You curse under your breath. Not so much as an introduction. Is this how it's going to be? “Always.” You tell her. You're no stranger to these emergencies. “Not as much as a debrief, huh?”

“I’d say sorry, but you know how it is.”

“No rest for the wicked.” You say. “Think I can join them before they get picked up by Mexican Special Forces?”

“I’ll tell the pilot in advance to drop you off for RV.” Laswell tells you. “Watcher-1 out.”

You walk over to the cockpit, placing a hand on the seat. The other hand reaches for your ear piece to switch channels so you can speak with the pilot. “You got the coordinates?” You ask, and with the confirmation, you continue. “Don’t land. I’ll prep for HALO.” You tell him. “Three of them need immediate attention. I don’t want them dead on arrival.”

“Copy.” The pilot replies. You back away, and head towards the hamper where you check your kit twice for anything you’d need. While you were in charge of MedEvac, you knew the risks. As long as you were beyond the line of fire, there’s still always that chance of attack.

In this case, you were the attacker.

“Approaching RV point.” You hear in your ear. “Prepare for HALO.” High Altitude, Low Opening. You’re hoping that it’s dark enough that no one will notice the parachute– then again, this isn’t the first time you’ve done this.

Trinity walks over to you. “Captain–”

“Report to Brown. I’m headed off.” You shrug on the pack, and head towards the ramp. Before that, though, you turn to your team. Most of which are paying attention to you as you walk. 

“Scott, Hudson, support with transfers.” You call, and the two of them nod. Their physique will help Brown and Jones with transferring the patients into gurneys with both haste and cautiousness. 

Squeaks and Trinity approach you as you all move out of the aircraft, handing you their digitally inputted evaluations. You read through them as you move, swiping through the tablet as you read through the list. “That’s about it. Are we clear?” They all affirm. 

You get a signal from the pilots. That’s all you need before you approach the ramp and drop in.

***

2001

It was a Saturday when Sergeant Simon Riley had first been forced on Medical Leave of Absence. This was on the insistence of the base’s, refusing to give him clearance until he’s deemed better, where he’d been assigned to a rehabilitation clinic not too far from his current place of stay– fortunately not too far from base.

The previous mission was bad– certainly not the worst that has happened, especially not the worst to come, but it was bad. 

When the paperwork for the leave was undergoing process and Simon had been forced to confine himself to med within base, the perpetrator as to why he’d gotten hurt had been very accommodating to his whims– not that Simon had many of them, but the one who was supposed to receive the bullets (plural) that took Simon down. Doesn’t matter anymore– no man left behind, and all that.

You know what they say about people torn into bad situations– you should have seen the other guy is what he would have said if he had been in a lighter mood. 

Except he’d damaged his peroneal nerve in the process. 

Fortunately it’s something easy to get back from, but that’s with rehabilitation. Hence, where he’d first met you. 

“Hello, Sergeant Riley.” You say, eyes twinkling with mirth and without that jaded look that he’d grown so used to witnessing in people within this line of work. You introduce yourself, first with your name. “I’m the one assigned to looking after your progression with your injuries– ultimately, medical clearance isn’t up to me, but anything I report goes into consideration. Anything you want to ask?”

“How long ‘til I’d get this off?”

“According to your chart–” you look through his charts. “Some weeks.” You hum, impressed at the prognosis. “Medical will clear you then– higher ups seem insistent in getting you back, huh?”

“I’m a good shot.” He tells you. “Some weeks, then– you any good in cuttin’ it down, Lieutenant?”

You laugh, waving in front of him. “Well, if you don’t fuck up your own injuries. Sure. Got a good prognosis anyway, considering the shit you’ve been through.” Then you remind him again to call you by your name. “And fortunately for you, your ass landed in my expert care.” There was a grin on your face as you told him that. 

Overwhelming confidence in this. Infallible. 

He’d been told that his injury hadn’t been so severe that it’d take him out of commission any time soon, but he’d been uncertain about that. It had been near damned frustrating to be so vulnerable. The injury is no scratch–that’s a huge chunk of his lateral knee fractured by the bullet, taking the nerve with it. While the medics had said otherwise, he just didn’t think someone could just regain proper function out of it again. 

So when that stubborn pessimism is met with that near-blinding optimism–

It was hard not to believe in your confidence, and that was considering that Simon knew not to believe in good things.

The first day was for initial evaluation. You’d told him that you wouldn’t begin with all the exercises and stretching just yet. He’d been compliant.

For the first day, that is. 

***

2022

Upon landing, you waste no time in moving towards RV. You made sure that there’d be no one following you, putting on the nightvision equipment you’d taken from the team that was pulled out for medevac. With a rifle in your hand, you traverse to the agreed upon location.

Only, you don’t exactly find them there. 

“Bravo 0-6, this is Salvi, how copy?” You say into your comm, listening for the radio for any response. “Echo 1-6 to Bravo Team, how copy?” You wait about two seconds before your mouth opens to ask again, once more before you radio Laswell.

“Bravo-06 to Salvi, solid copy.” Price’s voice cracks on the radio, and you breathe out a sigh of relief. “Just got… held back a bit.”

“Give me a sitrep, Price.” You question, continuing to move around so that you aren’t a sitting duck at the RV point. “There’s no one in RV.”

There’s a chuckle on the other line. “We’re on the way, got held back for first aid. Someone decided to be stubborn and skip on the medevac.”

“Damn.” You hiss under your breath, word caught by the comm. “Based on the data I’ve got, there’s only the four of you– Captain Price, Lieutenant Riley, Sergeant Mactavish and Sergeant Garrick. Is that correct?”

“Affirmative.”

“Price, you aren’t injured are you?”

“Nope.”

“Good. I have a lot of choice words, then.” You say into the comms, knowing that the rest of them are listening. You were of a higher rank than the rest of them, which means that you can easily berate whoever got himself hurt and didn’t jump on medevac.

“Hell Runneth Loose.” Gaz utters under his breath, joining on the comms. 

“That’s what I’m here for, Garrick.” You say. “Give me a location, set the RV at a midpoint so I can get a look at it.”

“Exfil would be further out.” Price points out.

“I have two working legs, Captain. I can use them.” You retort. “Details.” It was less of a request and more of a demand.

He tells you, and you move quick and silently towards the agreed upon location. It’s an abandoned building with a lot of debris, but standing strong enough for it to serve as a good and safe temporary camp. 

You arrive first, so you scout the area for any hostiles that might be at site. There are none, fortunately, so it seems that whatever they had to deal with further West of the area hasn’t reached this place. Has to be one hell of a trip, if that’s the case. 

“Echo 1-6 to Bravo Team, no sign of hostiles in the area.” You say with finality into the comm. “We’re clear.”

“Copy that Echo 1-6.”

You keep watch, keeping an eye on the perimeter in case the situation changes. Fortunately, it doesn’t, and it remains to be clear. “Approaching RV.” You hear a familiar voice on the comms. 

But there’s the distinct sound of something that whizzes fast, piercing through air. You immediately duck, lowering yourself so that the wall could hide you from wherever the attack comes from. “Bravo Team coming in hot!”

“Couldn’t fucking warn me you’d had tangos comin’ over?” You hiss, raising your gun towards the perimeter, at the general direction from where you know they’d be coming from. 

“A very recent development, in my defense.” Price hisses. “There’s not many, it’s manageable. You in a position to snipe, lass?”

“Affirm.” You tell him. “Get in the building, Cap, I’ve got overwatch.” You set up quick, shooting from the top of the building. You pray to whatever’s still left up there that they’ve got no RPGs– this building is doomed to fall in on itself and that’s just with the bullets encasing on already fragile wall. 

And it wasn't likely, anyway. On foot, having gear like that is unlikely.

You take down as many assailants as you can, registering in your head who are friendlies by attire alone. Not usual protocol, given that you can’t be certain how positive your i.d. is of the people trailing so close to one group, but you can be certain at least that the one with the bucket hat is price and the rest that he’s allowing within his proximity are friendlies.

They come up the building, taking position and securing the area.

A hulking figure is placed beside you, heavy with a thump against the wall. You look up, seeing that it was Sergeant Mactavish who’d placed the patient on your side.

You turn your head towards Sergeant Mactavish, whose eyes shift between yourself, Ghost, and the battlefield. “Sergeant Mactavish-- pleasure to meet ya." You smile. "Hell of a first meeting, huh?"

"I'd say." Soap grins. "Need any help?"

"You take overwatch while I patch him up.”

Soap nods, shifting to take your position. “Roger that, Doc Sal.” 

You didn’t need to look twice to be certain who it was that he’d dropped into your hands.

“I’d say it’s a pleasure seeing you again, Ghost,” You start with a smile. “But I believe that these are less than pleasant circumstances.”

The man leaned against the wall, debris falling between you both. He eyes you for a moment, before looking away and back to the battlefield. He huffs, not that you can hear it, and tilts his head forward in a nod. “Gotta stop meetin’ like this, y’reckon?”

You nod, “Line of fire seems to love you out there.” There’s a joke in there, a reference to a mission together once before. “Where are you hit, Lieutenant?”

“Left lumbar– just a graze.”

“Nice of you to be specific this time.” You quip, opening your pack to get the materials you need.

“Learned my lesson.”

“Whoever taught you must have ripped you a new one, huh?” There's amusement in your voice. "Hold still."

"I'd say." Soap grins. "Need any help?"

"You take overwatch while I patch him up.”

Soap nods, shifting to take your position. “Roger that, Doc Sal.” 

[workingclasshistory]

On this day, 27 October 1940, Japanese planes dropped grain over Ningbo, China during World War II. Two days later, bubonic plague broke out in the city killing 97 people. After the war Japanese military officials confirmed that they had carried out a biological attack, under the supervision of Unit 731. Unit 731 was one of several biological warfare teams which carried out many attacks on China, killing tens of thousands. Some aircraft sprayed bubonic plague, while others dropped ceramic containers full of plague-infested fleas. Elsewhere, reservoirs, wells, livestock and agricultural land were deliberately infected with pathogens including cholera, dysentery, typhoid and anthrax. These continued to kill after the war ended – up to 30,000 in 1947 alone. In addition to aerial attacks, they conducted horrific human experiments, mostly on Chinese communists and partisans, but also on some Russians and other Westerners. Subjects were infected with diseases, frozen alive, dismembered, gassed, raped and more. Hundreds were killed each year after the unit was set up in 1932. Its scientists even published papers publicly in peer-reviewed journals, claiming that the experiments discussed were on non-human primates. Towards the end of the war, all the prisoners and Chinese labourers in the unit were murdered, and Japanese troops tried to destroy all evidence by blowing up the base. Officers and scientists who were captured by the USSR were put on trial for war crimes and sentenced to periods of 2 to 25 years imprisonment in Siberian gulags. However, the US claimed the trials were "communist propaganda," and gave immunity to scientists in exchange for their data, including the sadistic head of Unit 731, Shiro Ishii. The USSR also soon established a biological weapons facility using research from the Unit. Some of the Unit's scientists given immunity continued experimenting on Japanese civilians without their consent, deliberately infecting patients with typhus for example. https://www.facebook.com/workingclasshistory/photos/a.296224173896073/2119763184875487/?type=3

[fitpacs]

other underrated fitpac things:

Pac's admiration of Fit's skills as a single father, calling him the best father Ramon could ever have, smiling as he watches Fit reuniting with Ramon, and of course, asking for Ramon's blessing

We've talked about Pac being patient and respecting Fit's boundaries before, but I think there's also something to be said about his weird little micro-flirt gestures, whatever the heck was going on with the beds in the Rebellion

ALSO I WILL NOT GET OVER PAC JUST OFFERING FIT HIS DATA. Like, ur crush is literally looking to sell people's personal data and saying "okay, you can have mine" with full trust and sincerity and zero hestitation is SOME kind of thing

did you pluck this straight from my sleepy mind because i agree with every damn word

the player data exchange is something i don’t think i’ll ever get over. fit explains he needs as many people’s personal data and pac without thinking offers his up without being asked and offers to help get other people’s data, just to take some of the stress off of fit’s shoulders

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

Hey sorry, what was that in the tags about humans having two brains?? I haven’t read any of the Visser books…

So in Visser, Edriss describes her first experience in the human brain as:

Then I discovered something strange and disturbing. A huge, deep chasm. It seemed to separate the human brain into two halves. And between the halves was only a nerve bundle not much thicker than my own true body... This second half of the brain was an almost mirror image, but not. It could have functioned all on its own, if necessary, and yet it was in some ways radically different in its memories, its sensory interpretation, even its will. Two almost entirely functional brains in one skull, communicating across a channel of nerves. Not a fully redundant system, almost a second, different brain! ...This brain worked by dialectic. Each half of the brain saw and heard and smelled and touched a slightly different world. Each tended toward specialization, but not a hard, fast split. The left half had more language, but not all the language. The right side had more spatial perception, but not all of the spatial perception... This brain contained its own traitor!

And that's a pretty accurate description of how human brains work, and how they differ from those of non-mammals. It's not about individuals being "right brain" or "left brain" (that's nonsensical; anyone who says differently is selling something). It's talking about the fact that the two halves of the brain are partially but not fully redundant, meaning they work as a team. That way there's backup for the super-important functions like breathing, but not for the nifty-not-necessary ones like language.

I think the stuff about the two halves talking to each other from slightly different worlds refers to split brain research. Split brain patients are those who've had that "nerve bundle not much thicker than [a yeerk]" severed in order to prevent seizures. These individuals tend to have normal quality of life (improved after the surgery)... unless you cut off their ability to use sensory information to compensate for the lack of brain-to-brain information. This interview with one such woman says:

neuroscientists now know that the healthy brain can look like two markedly different machines, cabled together and exchanging a torrent of data. But when the primary cable is severed, information — a word, an object, a picture — presented to one hemisphere goes unnoticed in the other.

If you shut a split-brain individual's right eye, then show their left eye the word "baseball", then they can grab a baseball out of a box by touch — but only if they use their left hand. When asked out loud "What did you grab?", they'll answer "I don't know" because they don't — the right hemisphere which controls the left half of the body has almost no language comprehension. If you show the right eye only the words "stand up", most patients will stand, but when asked why, will say things like "I guess I wanted a bathroom break" or "I must be getting restless" because they have no conscious awareness of being told to stand.

Anyway, this system is pretty great, since it means humans can have pretty good quality of life with huge chunks of their brains missing. And it's kinda baffling, because there have also been people who had all quality of life destroyed by minuscule localized damage. Our brains really are their own traitors. Le sigh.

[kit-williams]

I guess I'm doing more of that self insert

I have to thank @yawnderu's König character study post and @wordstome for their Königcore bible post and of course oh and @ghouljams for their König as well... there are too many cod dearies who helped me create this idea of him

But the part that really inspired me was this

so yeah enjoy

My clothes were nice and warm still. I still blamed Ghost for me forgetting what I was going to program but honestly it wasn't really important just stuff they gave me to keep me busy... enrichment really. I could look at the news and internet and my chats from my phone, when they weren't busy data scraping it, but I couldn't interact at all. I was in the kitchen making myself some hot chocolate to ignore the fact that I missed my baby and yet he had mommy right there with him.

I took the mug of now warm milk out of the microwave, I wasn't going to fuck up the militarily British men's kettles by heating up milk in them for some hot chocolate. I crouched down in front of the fridge trying to find the whipped cream I keep in there for my hot chocolate. I perk up when I hear it and smile at the massive man putting it down having taken some to eat as well as put on my hot chocolate. "Thanks Hans."

It embarrassingly took me a very long time to figure out Hans was König... I should have seen it coming really. I mean who else is nearly 7 feet tall? and speaks German... in my defense I have been very out of sorts. He plucks down the mini marshmallows for me... my 5'3 height as last time he caught me trying to go at them I had climbed up on the counter and just looked like a dog that had something in their mouth that they weren't suppose to have. In reality I just was embaressed I was climbing onto the countertop like a child.

"Koboldchen tell me about your day and what you need done." I hear him say as I sip my drink and sit down... and well prattle to him.

König was so helpful it hurt. I wasn't use to living on my own... I never had and I never could... I knew that long before I graduated high school or college. Luckily everything was usually automated and could just be taken out of my account but I still struggled so hard. König reminded me of how my husband would just patiently help me. He didn't mind my weird quirks... he let my fidgiting hands move over his calloused ones just letting me get some sort of stimulating satsifaction.

There was also something else that hurt so much... it hurt with Johnny and it hurt with Hans... just how blue their eyes were. It was like he was still right there ready to pick me back up and laugh at me for this dream. To tell me I've obsessed a bit too much and that it's time to focus on something else. Though I was jealous at how lovely the red in his hair looked but I continued to talk.

------

König could tell she was spiraling hard around a drain... Price had informed him of what was going on and the possibility of getting in on the ground floor if things followed suit about Ukraine. But, lucky for his Koboldchen... he was there. He wouldn't lie that he took a strong fondness to her after helping her when he found her hiding between buildings clawing at her skull and unresponsive to his voice and touch. He remembers helping her while someone went to find Ghost as she remained non verbal and he just talked.

She was a helpless thing and she knew it and embraced what she was good at to stave off the way her figurative plane was still crash landing... limping in its descent. And he knew why... he saw what was on her phone. I would kill for you. The message had popped up while they were discussing... and he watched the intimate text exchange like an unwilling voyeur But please make sure I never get the chance to. I'm scared I might be too proud about it. She was madly and obsessivly in love with a man she could not chase after anymore. And it was eating her alive. The love of her life was right there yet so far out of her reach.

For König he doesn't remember when he fell for the weird little creature just playing with his hand. Was it when she just chirped out 'Numa Numa' with Soap and Ghost... oh she loved to sing songs that the three early thirty year olds knew... like a joke that he knew about but was just a little too old to have been part of the same culture. Was it when she just asked him to crush her in a hug to ground her, to hold her so tightly she bruised but the way she sighed in his ear as the anxiety left her eyes. Or was it at first sight just seeing her a helpless sad thing that when Ghost had come to collect her she clung to him like a wounded animal.

Hans was okay not being the love of her life... he was okay with playing second fiddle to a man he knew nothing about except the passionate and near constant texting and speaking... pictures... videos... a life that has her eyes glittering with devotion to a man who he didn't know. As long as he could be by her Hans was fine as she allowed him to be close... to touch. She was like a dog recently left at the shelter confused but wanting those pets and comforts she was so use to.

"Do you want me to come by and make you dinner or is Ghost doing that tonight?" He asked softly knowing full well Ghost and Soap hovered around her as much as they could.

"He's gone for awhile. Yes. I don't want to be alone." She said putting her forehead on the table and just moved his hand to her scalp where he gently scratched.

"Of course Kobold." He said scratching the top of her head humming softly.

Oh yes he had been a voyeur of her texts but he was a snoop heading onto websites she said not to and seeing things he wasn't expecting really... but he was pleased to know that he fit into a definition of something she liked.

[scientia-rex]

Working in medicine, I just keep finding myself thinking over and over about that quote, “If you put good people in a broken system, you don’t fix the system. You break the people.”

And I was aware of that quote before I went into medicine, I think; I certainly knew the medical system was fucked up. But there’s a depth of knowledge, and torture that comes with that knowledge, that you only get by working in it every day. Watching patients die from being poor, in a dozen different ways. Not just one or two. But patient after patient after patient. Dead because she couldn’t afford Eliquis and couldn’t take warfarin, which is cheaper. Dead because he wanted to leave the hospital early because he couldn’t afford the bill. Dead because of meth, dead because of heroin, dead because of fentanyl laced everything, because fentanyl is cheaper to manufacture than basically anything else so it’s being used to cut everything. Dead because of asthma, dead because of COPD, because the drug companies are price gouging on inhalers to where one inhaler is 600 bucks without insurance, and half the insurances aren’t covering jack shit for inhalers anymore.

I spend every day watching capitalism kill people I try desperately to keep alive by any means necessary: encouraging them to exchange their data for drug discounts. Talking them through how to call their insurance companies and beg for their lives.

I’m so tired. I’m so broken.

[icanseethefuture333]

The experiences I have had doing tarot readings on celebrities: interactions, signs, etc.

I have been doing readings on celebrities for the past year now and the experience if I must say has been quite interesting. Some of you were curious about the overall process of how I do it and today I thought it would be a good idea to share that with you all.

The transactional model:

In my interpersonal communication class, I learned about the transactional model. The transactional is when there is conversational exchange between 2 or more people.

When doing the tarot reading, I ask the celebrity the same question requested from my inbox, as well as permission to share such information.

Some celebrities are honest, while others give a "PR" response. These are people who are highly protected and even could practice magick (yes, as in witchcraft or any other cultural practices) themselves. Many celebrities are into the occult themselves or use it to their advantage.

In a way, I am the "message" that is exchanged between the celebrity and the person requesting the reading. I channel the celebrity's thoughts, emotions, and ideas, forming their words in a way that would make sense to the general public.

The "noise" in this situation would be their spirit guides. Spirit guides are just as opinionated as us, when they urge the need to express an important message, they have a higher priority than the celebrity's message itself.

The telepathic connection:

I wouldn't say I am friends with most celebrities, but I do like to treat them as if they were one. There is a sense of intimacy being shared when are you diving into someone's psyche. Tarot readers have a vast number of methods, some that are unethical and lack morals. I do my best to treat celebrities what they are - normal people.

How I interpret clues, signs, & messages:

Each celebrity gives different signs when I do my readings.

One example is Vernon from Seventeen - when I do readings on him, it seems he is big on shufflenancy (music) more so than numbers, animals, or cards.

Another example would be is Jungkook from BTS, I feel he is a very visual person. Meaning I have to visualize his ideas by using clairvoyance. He expresses his mind in a very colorful and imaginative way.

Doing group readings is a lot more complex. It will feel like exactly that - talking to a large group of people. It can be overwhelming, but most members are patient when it comes to taking turns.

Collected data:

From my observations, I have gotten requests for readings from fans of the same groups repeatedly. On rare occasions, I'll receive asks for celebrities or groups I haven't done for before. This is a chart of readings that I have done. Disregarding the number or asks sent to my inbox, for that would be a larger calculation. With a recent rise of Atinys (Ateez's fanbase) sending asks. For celebrities popular in the west, Taylor Swift has been the most requested.

As for the method I use when using tarot or oracle cards, I honestly have no specific rule or guideline for doing my readings. I shuffle and receive whatever message that comes through, I also interpert with my intuition to decipher what feels correct or incorrect.

I hope you all enjoyed this or found this information insightful ♡!

[aaronashea]

My fat USENET friend from long ago (1)

Sorting through an old computer hard drive which I had saved because it contained some old project data, I also found some unexpected archived personal exchanges from the early days of the internet! These were done via a USENET connection which was not unlike some of the online forums that you can log into and where the content is saved and you can return to it again and again over time.

There was once exchange that caught my eye, regarding a first contact with a very fat man (yes, there were 'fat forums' even in those early days!) whose story I found quite interesting. For ease and expediency, I'm sharing it here with you as image captures via screen shots, his words appearing to you as a different font. It felt like he really wanted to tell me stuff but was uncertain how I would react. I was patient and over many months I learned more. I've tried to arrange those bits in order in which they seemed to happen (not the order in which he told me, which was much more random). I have regularly recalled these exchanges but it was so cool to see many details I’d forgotten.

It is important to establish his early life as this seems to have bearing on his adulthood. The following was told to me months into our exchanges.

We talked a lot at various points about the transition to this new boarding school and what that was like for him. I felt sorry for the guy hearing his early life story.

I asked if he was still in touch with this guy.

When I inquired what this experience ultimately meant for him . . .

continued in this post

[mariacallous]

Health care systems do their best to safeguard against breaches. But all of us could be doing more to protect our confidential health data. That starts with understanding when this data is most at risk.

When a patient called to ask if she could email me a CT report and imaging, I wanted to help. But I heard the loud whirring of a smoothie or espresso machine and figured she was at a public café. She confirmed that she was calling from a coffee shop.

I asked her to use our hospital portal from home to protect her privacy. She said she wasn’t sure she remembered her login details and didn’t want to wait. She also didn’t understand why her records wouldn’t be protected under the Health Insurance Portability and Accountability Act of 1996.

“I’m not surprised,” says Nichole Sweeney, general counsel and chief privacy officer for Chesapeake Regional Information System for Patients, a nonprofit health information exchange for several US states.

“The public may not realize that consumer-generated data is not protected. What she does with her own information is not secure. The federal government doesn’t regulate the health data itself. It’s the actual facility, medical office, or hospital—under HIPAA, a covered entity under that designation.”

Many of us also have devices at home that collect and store personal data about our health. I asked Sweeney if that data is covered if my doctor asked me to use the device.

She explains, “If I get my blood pressure taken at a clinic or any medical office, that is covered, and your personal data is protected. But if you take readings at home, this is not HIPAA. It’s not regulated. Those new wearable trackers? Those are not covered either. You’re on your own.”

So what else is not regulated? People. Any person using their own data is not covered under HIPAA.

Matt Fisher worked as a health care corporate and regulatory attorney. He is now general counsel for Carium, a virtual care platform. He believes people need more education about HIPAA and its limitations.

“It works effectively for what it was designed to do within the traditional health care industry. The issue is the assumption that it protects all information regardless of setting,” he says. “The fact is, as an individual who holds their own information HIPAA does not apply at all.”

Beyond hospitals and private medical offices, who is actually covered? Subcontractors. These include third-party associates, health plans, insurance companies, and individual physician providers. Labs, clinics, and any other medical offices that bill for their services are also expected to be HIPAA-compliant. Notably, this does not include social media businesses.

Even doctors, notoriously busy and working long hours, don’t always have the luxury of using patient portals to communicate effectively. They’re more likely to text or email colleagues with potentially sensitive information, all on personal devices that may or may not be locked down. But their goal is fast and efficient patient care, not necessarily data security.

Zubin Damania, who is a doctor and goes by ZDoggMD on social media, uses satire on his YouTube channel to educate viewers and poke fun at the health care system. His more than 488,000 YouTube subscribers no doubt include health care employees, but you don’t have to be one to appreciate parodies like “EHR State of Mind” (EHR is short for electronic health records), which is set to Alicia Keys’ hit “Empire State of Mind,” or “Readmission,” a play on R. Kelly’s “Ignition.” Damania hopes to inspire change in the health care tech sector so, as he puts it, “doctors can just be doctors.” Another target of his satire? Massive health data portals like Epic. He and other physicians believe the design of these systems can actually hinder security if medical personnel find it more restrictive than care-focused.

“Epic and others like it were not designed for use by clinicians on the front line trying to help patients,” he says. “These systems are giant billing platforms. It’s varying fields of data to be walled off.”

Sadly, Epic and others like it are all we have when it comes to storing patient data safely, and despite their flaws, these portals are still the safest available option for doctors and patients. Health care facilities are strictly regulated to receive federal government funding, and they must pass safety certifications, including security protections for patient data. They also seek to maintain industry recognition in order to stay credible and competitive. Want to make a hospital exec nervous? Tell them the Joint Commission is coming by for a visit. They need those gold star approval ratings.

Some patients are under the misconception that these systems are not really that secure. But in the past few years, data breaches have been rare (though they do happen). Hackers frequently target hospitals and health care systems for ransomware attacks, but it doesn’t pay for hackers to demand money when robust backups exist. While the industry has made some progress, the problem of individuals taking personal risks continues.

A former Department of Homeland Security adviser and a doctor, Chris Pierson is CEO of BlackCloak, a company that specializes in personal digital protection from financial fraud, cybercrime, reputational damage, and identity theft. He believes vigilance is key for doctors and patients alike.

Protect Your Entire Family

“I don’t think people realize that once someone is able to get just one piece of information, that can lead to opening others’ private data,” Pierson says. “It’s no longer the original individual on their computer, but additional family members’ identity that can be compromised.”

He explains that even if one organization keeps your data safe, another associated one may not, and that’s where criminals will strike. 

“It’s not just medical offices. It’s your pharmacy, labs, insurance company, anyone who keeps personal information. That has real value, and selling it is the priority.”

Victims of identity theft can be revictimized when personal information gets into multiple hands. A street address and verified phone number can go far, especially if the phone contains many contacts, who then become vulnerable to attack themselves.

“If you get Mom’s info, you can get the child’s as well. An ID card, social security, all of it, and then they have the ability to collect false medical claims or just extortion. It’s a two for one.”

Two-Factor Authentication Is Worth the Effort

Pierson mentions how critically important it is to use a multistep authentication system. Your level of protection goes up considerably just by using secure passwords and one-time authentication codes.

Thankfully, setting all this up is easier than it sounds. Apps on your phone or tablet can help. Google Authenticator, when paired with a service that supports authenticator apps, provides a six-digit number that changes every few seconds and can keep people out of your data even if they have your username and password. Other companies ask users to enter an SMS code as the second authentication factor, in addition to a password, although SMS codes are less secure than authenticator apps. Either approach is better than none—unless a hacker is in physical possession of your phone, they are not getting access.

Social Media and Tracking

Social media is becoming a popular way for health care providers and entrepreneurs to connect with the public—and often to sell them treatments or advice. These Instagram or TikTok accounts may offer tips from someone in the medical industry, which can appeal to those facing rising health care costs and difficulties accessing care. But an internet doctor’s background or popularity does not ensure that they observe strong privacy guidelines or secure their transactions.

My Instagram is flooded with offers promising everything from better sleep to improved sexual health. It’s nice to have options, but that help and any information you receive from those accounts or send to them isn’t covered under HIPAA. Any time you pay out of your own pocket for health-related items or services, or on a direct-to-consumer health app, there is no recourse if someone steals your personal information or shares it.

Along with social media and direct-to-consumer health options comes large-scale data tracking. Outside of official medical practices, you should view surveillance as an expectation, rather than an exception.

Ask Questions

When you sign up for any service, whether through a new doctor’s patient portal or an online supplement shop, ask how your data is stored and where it goes. Read the privacy policies and settings, even briefly, to find out what options you have to restrict the sale or reuse of your data. Check the default settings to make sure you’re not giving away too much information. Find out if the service or platform offers two-factor authentication and set that up if it’s available. Know that it’s rare for anyone to need your social security number, no matter what a customer service agent says. A birth date and address is usually enough.

Pierson and others agree that we all need to consider security from several angles and do our best to protect ourselves and our loved ones. “The sophistication of identity attacks will always evolve and change. Remember, they only have to get it right once, but we have to guess right all of the time.”

[arcsimper5]

Actions and Consequences - Chapter 1 Resolute

Delta Squad are forced to seek help from within the fleet for their injured Jedi, Jerra. Mixing with the GAR general is... an issue.

Pairing: OC!Jedi Jerra x Delta Squad Warnings: Descriptions of injuries, some blood, language. Rating: M (Explicit content in later chapters, minors DNI)

Kix huffed as the hangar medical alert rang out into the med bay, the low buzz of it echoing through his skull.

It had been a long day already, the Resolute in orbit above Pravada 9, a large group assault on droid production bases having been ordered by the GAR while data was gathered by a specialist assault team.

Looking at the chrono, he frowned in confusion; the last of the teams from the 501st and 212th had returned hours ago, with no reports of lost ships or units. Everyone deployed from the ship had been accounted for.

So why, then, was the medical alert sounding if all troops had returned?

Grumbling in annoyance at the inevitable extension of his shift, he grabbed his medkit and made the short journey to the hangar, looking around for his new patients.

There were a few groups of troopers milling around, but none that seemed to need attention. One lot of four were playing sabacc on some nearby crates while another small gathering of softshells were working on a gunship which had taken quite a bit of damage in the incursion.

None of them seemed to need his attention, his annoyance growing further.

“Anyone call for a medic?” he asked loudly, several heads snapping in his direction.

A murmuring response of ‘no’ and ‘not me’ came from the troopers, Kix letting out a growl of annoyance.

“Then who the kark is wasting my time by calling me down here?” he snapped, some of the sabacc troopers exchanging concerned looks.

He was about to head back to medbay and file a false alarm report when a gravelly voice called across the hangar, a large, imposing clone in distinctive armour appearing from the end of a gunship, a large sniper rifle in his hands.

“I am,” the trooper called, the entire hangar silent now, watching the interaction.

Kix raised an eyebrow, looking the trooper up and down. He could tell by his bucket, which was still firmly in place, that he was a Commando. His bulk on its own was intimidating, but the paint job on his armour completed the picture, the white plastoid flashed with red on his legs, arms and midsection, what appeared to be a bloody handprint covering the area around his visor, giving the impression of it being fresh and dripping.

“You’re not 501st or 212nd,” Kix huffed, the sniper letting out an amused huff.

“What gave it away? You a medic or not?”

Kix stared at the Commando for a moment, caught between actions.

“You’re not on my treatment compliment,” he stated firmly, the sniper staring back. Even under his visor, Kix could practically feel the coldness of the look.

“But you are a medic,” he growled in return, “and we need you.”

“For what?” Kix questioned automatically, the larger clone almost certainly rolling his eyes.

“A fifth for sabacc. What do you think, di’kut?”

Kix was about to offer a sharp retort when another Commando appeared behind the sniper, his posture communicating his impatience.

“Sev! What the kriff is taking so long?”

It only took the other man a moment to register Kix’s presence, his size matching this so-called ‘Sev’, though his bucket was off, exposing a frustrated expression.

Even though he looked like a clone and his hair was slightly longer than regulation, the Commando armour he wore, mostly green with a white flashed chestpiece, he gave off the air of someone much more superior.

“You, medic! We’ve been waiting on you! Get your shebs back to the ship!”

Kix frowned, his frustration growing.

“I don’t know who you think you are,” he huffed, “but I’m assigned to the 501st. You can’t just turn up on a republic fleet ship, call a medic and demand medical attention without registering first.”

“Oh, look, the little shiny doctor doesn’t know who we are,” Sev chuckled lowly, the other Commando rolling his eyes and glaring at him.

“Can it, Sev. This is about Jerra, not you.”

“Look,” Kix sighed, shaking his head, “let me call the on-call medic. I’m sure they can…”

“No time!” the unidentified Commando cut him off, shaking his head, “Our Jedi is injured. Now are you gonna do your job or not?”

As Sev chuckled, Kix felt the urge to decline simply on principle, but hearing there was an injured Jedi piqued his interest, not to mention his innate need to help was kicking in. Whether it was in his genes or in his heart, he couldn’t fight it, relenting with a long suffering sigh as he trudged towards the commandos.

“Ugh, fine! Just… register after, okay? I need to record all treatment.”

“Yeah, sure, whatever,” the Commando nodded, waving behind him in a gesture for Kix to follow.

“What Battalion are you even from?” Kix asked as they weaved through the gunships, most in various states of battle damaged, towards the rear of the hangar.

“Battalion?” Sev rumbled, his tone amused, “That’s cute.”

“We’re Delta Squad,” the other clone responded tightly. “I’m Fixer, this is Sev. Boss and Scorch are still on the shuttle with Jerra, our Commander.”

“Delta Squad?” 

Kix froze in place for a second, Sev almost walking into him, barely dodging his stock still form. 

“The Delta Squad? The ones who ran the demo job on Geonosis during the first battle of the Clone Wars?”

“History lesson later,” Fixer urged him, reaching back and grabbing his arm, the medic stumbling a little as he was pulled along, “first, medic stuff.”

“But… You guys are… You’re a myth! You’re not… You’re not supposed to exist!”

“And yet, here we are,” Sev chuckled, a hiss sounding as he reached up with one hand, unclipping his bucket and pulling it off.

Kix took in his features, surprised. Again, although he looked the same as the rest of his brothers, Sev had a certain… severity to him, as obvious as it would seem.

Two large scars ran across his face, one down from the top of his hairline to just below his cheekbone over his right eye, the other across the same eye, from the bridge of his nose to the curve of his face. It looked oddly like a crosshair.

His hair was thick, tight curls cut short, shoots of grey showing through. Light amber eyes stared back at Kix, a wicked smirk tilting at chapped lips.

“Got an issue?” he grinned, Kix immediately shaking his head.

“N-No… Kriff… Rex is not gonna believe this…”

Turning to Sev, he hesitated for a moment. “Is it true the four of you took back an entire republic cruiser from trandoshan pirates on your own?” 

Sev smirked, raising an eyebrow at the medic. 

“Is that what they tell you?” he teased, the low tone of his voice sending an uncomfortable shiver down Kix's spine. 

“Like I said,” the other commando huffed from in front of them, “history lesson later. And to be fair, it was mostly Boss.” 

Within moments, they were free of the field of battleworn gunships, the path to a beat up looking attack shuttle appearing. Another Commando was waiting outside, this one with a white chest piece, grey and gold covering his arms and legs.

“Took ya long enough!” he yelled as they approached, his voice somehow softer than the average clone’s, “What were ya doing? Teaching him how to practice medicine?”

“Can it, Scorch,” Fixer snapped, releasing Kix’s arm as they approached the ramp, Scorch’s face scrunched in an unimpressed expression.

His hair was much longer than the others, thick curls pulled back into a loose braid at the back, a few ringlets falling around his face. He leant against the ship with his arms folded over his chest, eyes scanning Kix suspiciously.

“How’s she doing?” Sev quizzed Scorch, the expression on the slightly smaller clone’s face faltering a little.

“In pain,” he replied quickly, looking pointedly to Kix, “Boss is with her. He’s been pushing bacta, but you know how she is with supplies.”

“You,” Sev grunted at Kix before nodding to the door, sharp eyes locked on him, “inside.”

“Going, going!” Kix assured him, drawing in an attempt at a steadying breath as he pushed through the doorway of the ship, the insides dimly lit.

It was a modest set up in the shuttle, a bunk room off to one side, labelled as such on the door. A small refresher was marked at the back, top and rear gunner mount positions visible from the main gangway.

Looking down towards the rear, Kix soon found his target, watching curiously as he crept closer.

The Jedi, Jerra, was sat on one of the navigation seats, her left hand supporting a limp right arm, face twisted with pain as she let out a hiss.

She was human, at least she appeared to be, warm skin over tight features. Her eyes seemed to dance with a green light in the darkness, focused on the Commando in front of her, the clone kneeling as he looked over her knees, one of which was exposed and covered with a bacta patch.

Her long dark hair was pulled back into multiple braids that trailed down her back, pulled together with a gold band. The clone in front of her was helmetless, hair short and mussed, curls spilling onto his skin haphazardly as he rested on one knee, hands gentle as he rubbed bacta in a nasty looking cut on her leg.

Visibly, it seemed to be her only other urgent injury, save the small cuts that littered her face. They looked like shrapnel wounds, ones that Kix was, unfortunately, all too familiar with.

“Not long now, mesh’la,” he grumbled lowly, his accent thick and low, a warmth to it that made Kix raise an eyebrow, “we’ll get some meds into you.”

“I can wait,” Jerra replied with a forced smile, adoration clear on her face as she looked the commando over, letting out a huff of laughter, “you shouldn’t be wasting bacta on me, Boss, I told you…”

“Hush,” Boss ordered, his voice stern, though his smile betrayed his tone, “bacta can be replaced. You can’t.”

A moment stretched between them, intimate and deep, simply sharing a connection, and for a second, Kix felt like he was intruding on something private.

“Uh… Sorry to interrupt,” he managed, his voice cracking a little as Jerra’s intense gaze turned to meet him, Boss’s smile fading entirely as he stood back up to full height, “I’m Kix, the medic from the 501st.”

“About time you got here,” Boss grunted, stepping back to allow Kix access to Jerra, “does ‘rapid medical response’ mean something different in the fleet?”

“Boss,” Jerra chastised the Commando gently, Kix trying his best to keep his expression set as he approached, the large clone’s white and red armour adding to his intimidating presence, “leave him be. It’s not like we were announced.”

“Still,” Boss huffed, his eyes softening a little as Kix placed his back at Jerra’s feet, offering a weak smile.

“Sorry about them,” Jerra grinned softly, “they can be a little demanding. I hope they weren’t rude to you.”

“No more than any of my other vode,” Kix smiled back, earning a huff from Boss. “Now… the others mentioned you being in pain?”

His eyes travelled over her, noting the bacta patch on her leg and the way she still held her arm.

“Do you mind telling me what happened?”

“Big ass explosion!” a shout came from the doorway, Scorch leaning around it, watching intently, “Got caught in the shockwave. Uh… sorry, again, about that.”

“Out!” Boss yelled, stamping towards the ramp, his face set. Jerra simply rolled her eyes and let out a breath of laughter, focusing back on Kix.

“We were infiltrating one of the maintenance facilities while the battle distracted the main forces,” she explained as Kix reached up, flattening his palm for her to lower her arm onto it, “our objective was to take it out and get intel on the newer battle droids they’re pushing out. Things got a bit heated, more security than intel thought there’d be, and I got pushed off a walkway by one of the breach blasts. Boss caught me before I fell all the way down, but it jarred my arm some.”

Kix hummed as he listened, eyes now intently fixed on her arm as he rolled the fabric covering it up as gently as he could. Her robes were a dark brown, the tunic underneath faded greens and greys, all tattered and smelling distinctly of explosive residue.

“Lucky escape,” Kix smiled, Jerra wincing as he tried to straighten her arm, hissing in pain. In his peripheral, he saw Boss turn sharply at the noise, trying his best to focus. 

The skin around the joint was purple and black, bruised badly. The swelling was quite severe, but there seemed to be no obvious deformation.

“I can’t tell from just looking, but there’s some bruising and irritation around the joint. Did you hear a pop or crack when you were caught?”

Jerra hesitated for a moment, looking towards Boss, her expression caught.

“I need you to be honest,” Kix explained softly, “or we might miss something that could cause complications in the future. We can heal whatever it is, I promise.”

With a long exhale, Jerra closed her eyes and nodded, something close to shame echoing across her features.

“It dislocated when Boss caught me,” she murmured, gaze averted to her feet, “and I popped it back in. Hurt like a jawa-kriffer, but it let me keep going.”

“Mesh’la…”

Boss’s call cut through the silence, the pain in his tone apparent.

“You should have told me… I’m…”

“Don’t,” Jerra frowned back at him, watching cautiously as he approached, “you did what you had to. I’m alive, we’re all here, that’s what matters. I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d worry.”

“Damn right I’d worry,” Boss glared back at her, “It’s my job to look out for you all!”

“And you did!”

“But you got hurt…”

“Instead of falling to my death!”

Boss considered her words for a moment, hovering over her as Kix looked between them, the tension growing.

“Well, uh, there might be some small fractures in the elbow joint,” he explained quickly, hoping to diffuse the situation, “but I’d need to do a scan to be sure. It might also be good to look at the rest of your joints too, mainly your shoulder. A force like that can dislodge things or pull other muscles. It’s nothing that a bacta wrap won’t fix overnight, but it’s better to be safe than sorry.”

“No,” Boss growled, Kix’s gaze darting to Jerra as she rolled her eyes, letting out a huff, “we have orders to be back en-route by oh-four-hundred. We’re only here for medical attention, resupply and refuel.”

“And you’re getting medical attention,” Kix replied sternly, releasing Jerra’s arm back to her as gently as he could, gathering his pack and standing, “and I’m telling you she needs more treatment.”

“We’re not leaving without her.”

“Then you’re not leaving at all,” Kix frowned, gesturing at Jerra. “If you want to deny her treatment and possibly aggravate what is currently a minor injury, be my guest. But if it is broken, bone fragments could shift and damage both muscle and tissue, not to mention the pain will only build. She needs rest and recuperation, and as a medic, I am able to pull individuals from active service for that.”

“Need a hand, Boss?”

Sev’s deep voice echoed through the ship, two other faces also peering in, their expressions stern.

It was clear that they were willing to step in if there was an argument, Jerra huffing in frustration as Kix stood his ground, shouldering his bag.

The Commando and the Medic stared each other down for a long moment, Boss’s eyes searching Kix’s face.

After what felt like an eternity, Boss let out a frustrated huff and stepped back, allowing Kix to pass.

“One rotation. No longer,” he growled, looking back to Jerra, “and one of us is always with her.”

“Boss,” she protested, quickly cutting off her own reply as he glared back at her.

“That’s an order.”

“I outrank you,” she shot back, hissing again as she stood up, following Kix as he made his way through the ship, though she made no further argument.

Boss looked her up and down, putting out a hand against the durasteel wall on the other side of the galley, blocking her path while the medic disembarked, his intense gaze finding hers once more.

“Boss,” she breathed again, swallowing hard when his free hand moved to her face, tracing his knuckles down the side of her face, “I’ll be fine.”

“You should have told me,” he grumbled after a moment, the guilt in his eyes making her chest constrict. “I hurt you.”

“You saved my life,” she reminded him, stepping into his space, tucking her head under his chin.

Taking another deep breath, he wrapped his arms around her, holding her tenderly, taking the upmost care not to put pressure on her arm. “Better broken than a pile of goop on the floor of a maintenance facility.”

Boss let out a soft chuckle, his expression softening once more. Pulling away slightly, he looked down at Jerra, a sigh escaping his lips.

“I’ll make it up to you, cabur,” he promised, voice little more than a whisper, “we all will.”

“I’m holding you to that,” she teased gently, shivering at the sensation of his breath ghosting over her cheeks, “it’s been too long, Boss.”

“I know, cyare,” he smiled, leaning down to brush his lips over hers, drawing a whimper from deep in her throat, “but what was it you taught us about patience?”

“Gar chayaikir,” she moaned softly, growling as he pulled away, “you’re going to pay for this.”

“Hey, riddurok’la, your medic is getting twitchy!” Scorch shouted from the doorway, leaning in with a sly grin on his face, looking over the scene with amusement. “Gar me'dinuir, vod?”

“Mir’sheb,” Boss growled in response, moving towards the door, Jerra following with a blush on her cheeks. “Come on then, my lady,” he teased bowing as he reached the door, “your medic awaits.”

*-*-* Translations: Di’kut - idiot Shebs - Ass/Butt Mesh’la - Beautiful Cabur - Protector/Guardian Cyare - Beloved/One who is beloved Gar chayaikir - You tease Gar me'dinuir, vod? - You share, brother? Riddurok’la - Married Couple (rough translation) Mir’sheb - Smartass

[ijosijen]

Head Parameter Thoughts

I'll probably explain wtf my metadata model is in a future post, but the broad strokes are similar to the minimalist program.

Okok? Cool ima talk about the three biggest word ordering paradigms through the lens of head parameter.

First off, metadata syntax assumes that movement isn't real - there's only projection - and that a phrase's head directionality is information stored in the word class, which is itself a probably a sub-morpheme of the head. (a.k.a metadata on said head)

What's also stored in the head's metadata? Subject and object assignment. No such thing as a subj/predicate here. The verb heads all of its arguments, which means that VO and OV word orders are literally all that there are. Or, rather, if we call an Arg "A" (for now), then the word orders are AA...AV and VA...AA. etc.

The VP is itself going to be headed by a finite marker F. Which is to say that the predicate was real the Whole Time !! i'm sorry,,,,

Inside of the VP, our head verb is casually tossing out theta roles. The exact function of the argument vis-a-vis the verb is - you guessed it - determined by the verb's metadata, which chooses certain arguments as its agents and patients etc etc.

How does it choose them? Speaker choice, though information transfer likes its topic prominence, so let's say that the earliest arg gets subject, other args object, etc etc. As it's assigning these platonic roles, a verb may also literally be assigning marked cases. The subject is basically always there so that's usually pointless, but maybe an accusative. Maybe a dative for a generic indirect object. Maybe other args came with a case, PP or whatnot, so it doesn't really have to worry about those.

Or maybe your lang is ergative and considers a a patient more topical. So the verb's first marked one will be your agent. if you wanna do that. for some reason. Most sentences involve an agent, though ig a few involve a patient -- a situation common enough that it's mostly solved through passive voice. The dative being the most topical element is kind of insane though, and nobody would do this. Very few "topical dative" sentences.

Let's get back to the role'd out VP. it's doing pretty great! Alas, your only two word orders are now SOV and VSO.

This runs into the fundamental issue with how we (humans) like to order things in terms of their topicality. Head initial as a base structure is nicer for our brains because we have to keep less information in the working memory, but it renders a word order that puts the verb (comment-ass information) at the front.

SOV, in exchange for the slightly heavier memory load, is having a topicality party up in here. But enough languages in the head-initial camp figure the subject (the agent) to be so important and topical that they'll take the extra effort to project it up and out into the jacketing tense clause. Most of the metadata (including the phonetic realization data lmao) gets beamed up and out, creating a holographic initial subject nonetheless tethered to its trace inside the VP.

But the SVO was worth it. Like sure it's a bit of a trainwreck and the projection is expensive and now your arguments are separated from one another (bad unliked) but at least the subject is topical, the head-initial order is easier for the listener, and you don't really have to rely on overt nom/acc case markings anymore, with the verb in the way of the surface forms.

These are still three rather goofy options, but from start they're the compromised choices that most languages have gotta and then do end up making. As for our weird ones (VOS, OVS, OSV), i mean. I dunno. But in my eyes they're doing similar gymnastics as the more common orders except it makes things less simple/topical. But there's research to be done there obv.

[longhaulerbear]

(via Myalgic Encephalomyelitis/Chronic Fatigue Syndrome in the times of COVID - YouTube)

I want to highlight a very important paper published in January in Nature Communications by a group from Amsterdam. They looked at muscle abnormalities worsening after exercise in patients with Long COVID. This symptom is very common in chronic fatigue syndrome, and we see it in over 80% of patients with Long COVID. In this study, they included 25 patients with Long COVID and 21 age- and sex-matched controls who had fully recovered from COVID-19. They collected blood and muscle biopsies before and after exercise. Both groups were healthy and socially active. None of the participants were hospitalized due to COVID-19 infections. Fatigue questionnaires and exercise data confirmed the impact of Long COVID on daily lives. The study found that people with Long COVID have lower VO2 max, indicating decreased oxygen absorption and reduced peak power output. They also had lower gas exchange (CO2 and oxygen) levels, suggesting that their muscles were affected by physical activities. Structural changes in the muscle were observed, with a shift from type 1 fibers (aerobic) to type 2X and 2A fibers (anaerobic). This indicates a shift towards glycolytic metabolism, which is less efficient for sustained energy production. Further, mitochondrial function was compromised in patients with Long COVID, showing lower oxidative phosphorylation capacity. This means their cells were less efficient at producing energy. After exercise, these changes were more pronounced. Mitochondrial dysfunction was evident, as seen by decreased oxygen transport and increased markers of mitochondrial stress. Interestingly, the study found no amyloid depositions in healthy controls or fully recovered individuals, refuting the theory of microclots as a cause of Long COVID symptoms. However, in Long COVID patients, amyloid deposition was found around the vascular endothelium, indicating a possible biomarker for this condition. Muscle atrophy was also observed in Long COVID patients, with increased damage and necrosis after exercise. This suggests that physical activity can exacerbate muscle damage in these patients. Additionally, signs of muscle regeneration were noted, indicating ongoing muscle repair processes. Metabolic abnormalities were also highlighted, including reduced TCA cycle activity and lower levels of creatine and ATP synthesis. This contributes to the reduced oxidative phosphorylation capacity in Long COVID patients. In summary, this study confirms mitochondrial dysfunction and metabolic abnormalities in Long COVID patients, with a shift towards anaerobic pathways. Physical activity exacerbates muscle damage and inflammatory responses, leading to further complications. The presence of viral proteins in both healthy and Long COVID patients suggests ongoing immune activation, but not active viral replication.

[captainlexapro]

👋Hello hello hello ~extremely niche group of~ Canucks fans and astrology nerds!!! I said i was going to do a deep dive into the astrology of this year’s beloved team and, well, here i am. 🤗

I’ve compiled data in charts that make sense to me, did some calculations to see some trends, and then listed some of my own insights/interpretations. We’ll see how accurate it feels/whether it resonates with other fans who are into this kinda shit!! Feel free to share your own interpretations with the class - I am a very, VERY amateur astro enthusiast so i would be SO grateful for anyone else’s insights. 💙 Join in below the cut!

MANDATORY DISCLAIMER: this is for fun!!! Please be nice! Again, i’m not a professional so if i’m way off, please be gentle with corrections. Thank youuu 💕

BEFORE WE BEGIN, a clarification about players i used in data collection: I referred to the team’s roster (and the position listed for them) per the nhl’s site, and made the decision to exclude players that played ~10 games or less in order to keep data outliers minimal (and to stay true to the team that most people would think of for this season). Also, my percentages will not add up perfectly to 100 every time bc i wanted whole numbers, not decimals. Ok let’s go!

ASTRO TERMINOLOGY INTRO/REFRESHER:

Let’s do a quick rundown of some of the terminology I’ll be using, so then y’all know wtf I’m talking about.

SUN SIGNS 🌞

We are ONLY talking about sun signs (what zodiac sign the sun was passing through during that time of year/on your birthday. This is the same as what sign you say you are when people ask). This is ONE piece of everyone’s chart and, while it is a driving force/important placement, it is not the whole picture. There are other placements that influence us as individuals (moon, mercury, mars, venus). Depending on one’s chart and the placements of those other ‘personal’ planets i just mentioned, the sun sign may not seem very evident in that person. So when i say this player is this sign and it doesn’t resonate, there’s probably some major other planets/signs at play in their chart that dims the sun sign’s influence. But i don’t have access to everyone’s EXACT chart, nor do i have the patience and time to interpret all that, so we’re just doing sun signs. (I’ll touch a little bit on my guesses for what i think is going on in the rest of some of the players’ charts during my interpretation section.)

QUICK REFRESHER: The signs, in order from ‘beginning’ to ‘end’ of the zodiac wheel: aries, taurus, gemini, cancer, leo, virgo, libra, scorpio, sagittarius, capricorn, aquarius, pisces (i will shorten a bunch of these because i’m lazy and don’t want to write them out every time).

Each sign is within an element and a modality. Every sign is unique in terms of its element and modality combo (ie aries is THE cardinal fire sign. There are other fire signs, there are other cardinal signs, but there is no other cardinal fire sign. Hopefully this will make a lil more sense later on.)

ELEMENTS OF THE SIGNS:

🔥FIRE Signs: aries, leo, sag

Key words/phrases: Very energetic, enthusiastic, inspiring, impulsive, passionate, initiators, adventure-seeking, action-oriented, creative, fervent, hot-blooded, get fired up, restless, always seeking and wanting to get things done quickly

🌿EARTH Signs: taurus, virgo, cap

Key words/phrases: practical, utilitarian, materialistic, conservative, sensual, patient, builders, seek stability, down-to-earth, steady as a rock, good things take time, nurtures/is of service, refuses to be fake or false

💨AIR Signs: gem, libra, aqua

Key words/phrases: communicative, social, idealistic/abstract, mental, objective, seek knowledge, intellectually oriented, live in head, mysterious/harder to pin down, love to talk and think and exchange ideas, less constrained by society’s rules, can live too much in head

💧WATER Signs: cancer, scorpio, pisces

Key words/phrases: emotional, nurturing, responsive, sympathetic, psychic, seek connection, emotionally oriented, dreamy, feeling, protective, sentimental, soft around edges but sometimes rough

MODALITIES OF THE SIGNS:

💥CARDINAL - The Initiators/Motivators

Signs: aries, cancer, libra, cap

Key words/phrases: meet situation head on, DO something about it, starters, leaders, initiating, assertive/bossy

🪨FIXED - The Sustainers/Creators

Signs: taurus, leo, scorpio, aqua

Key words/phrases: consolidate, preserve, stand one’s ground, lots of inertia, staying power, enduring, patient/stubborn

💫MUTABLE - The Transformers/Refiners

Signs: gem, virgo, sag, pisces

Key words/phrases: flexible, adjust or refine, respond, weave, dodge, go with the flow, following, meandering, adaptable/easily led, complete the cycle

THE TEAM’S SUN SIGNS:

OFFENSE Aman: aqua, Blueger: leo, Boeser: pisces, DiGiuseppe: libra, Garland: pisces, Hoglander: sag, Joshua: taurus, Lafferty: pisces, Lindholm: sag, Mikheyev: libra, Miller: pisces, Pettersson: scorpio, Podkolzin: cancer, Suter: Gemini

DEFENSE Cole: pisces, Friedman: cap, Hronek: scorpio, Hughes: libra, Juulsen: aries, Myers: aqua, Soucy: leo, Zadorov: aries

GOALIES Demko: sag, DeSmith: leo, Silovs: aries, Tolopilo: aries

🏒OFFENSE BREAKDOWN

OFFENSE/FORWARDS SIGNS BY ELEMENT (TOTALS):

Fire: 3 (21%) Aries: 0, Leo: 1, Sag: 2; Water: 6 (43%) Cancer: 1, Scorpio: 1, Pisces: 4; Air: 4 (29%) Gemini: 1, Libra: 2, Aqua: 1; Earth: 1 (7%) Taurus: 1, Virgo: 0, Cap: 0

OFFENSE/FORWARDS SIGNS BY MODALITY:

CARDINAL: 3 (21%) Aries: 0, Cancer: 1, Libra: 2, Cap: 0; FIXED: 4 (29%) Taurus: 1, Leo: 1, Scorpio: 1, Aqua: 1; MUTABLE: 7 (50%) Gemini: 1, Virgo: 0, Sag: 2, Pisces: 4

🏒DEFENSE BREAKDOWN

DEFENSEMEN SIGNS BY ELEMENT:

Fire: 3 (38%) Aries: 2, Leo: 1, Sag: 0; Water: 2 (25%) Cancer: 0, Scorpio: 1, Pisces: 1; Air: 2 (25%) Gemini: 0, Libra: 1, Aqua: 1; Earth: 1 (13%) Taurus: 0, Virgo: 0, Cap: 1

DEFENSEMEN SIGNS BY MODALITY:

CARDINAL: 4 (50%) Aries: 2, Cancer: 0, Libra: 1, Cap: 1; FIXED: 3 (38%) Taurus: 0, Leo: 1, Scorpio: 1, Aqua: 1; MUTABLE: 1 (13%) Gemini: 1, Virgo: 0, Sag: 2, Pisces: 1

🏒GOALIE BREAKDOWN

GOALIE SIGNS BY ELEMENT:

Fire: 4 (100%) Aries: 2, Leo: 1, Sag: 1 ; Water: 0 Air: 0 Earth: 0

GOALIE SIGNS BY MODALITY:

CARDINAL: 2 (50%) Aries: 2, Cancer: 0, Libra: 0, Cap: 0; FIXED: 1 (25%) Taurus: 0, Leo: 1, Scorpio: 0, Aqua: 0; MUTABLE: 1 (25%) Gem: 0, Virgo: 0, Sag: 1, Pisces: 0

🏒ENTIRE TEAM ROSTER BREAKDOWN

ENTIRE ROSTER SIGNS BY ELEMENT:

Fire: 10 (38%) Aries: 4, Leo: 3, Sag: 3; Water: 8 (31%) Cancer: 1, Scorpio: 2, Pisces: 5; Air: 6 (23%) Gemini: 1, Libra: 3, Aqua: 2; Earth: 2 (8%) Taurus: 1, Virgo: 0, Cap: 1

ENTIRE ROSTER SIGNS BY MODALITY:

CARDINAL: 9 (35%) Aries: 4, Cancer: 1, Libra: 3, Cap: 1; FIXED: 8 (30%) Taurus: 1, Leo: 3, Scorpio: 2, Aqua: 2; MUTABLE: 9 (35%) Gem: 1, Virgo: 0, Sag: 3, Pisces: 5

🎯POINTS & 🥊 HITS LEADERS (regular season stats only)

🎯POINTS LEADERS BY ELEMENT & MODALITY

[NOTE: Points leaders - Offense: 80%, Defense: 20%]

Fire: 2 (20%) Water: 4 (40%) Air: 2 (20%) Earth: 1 (10%)

CARDINAL: 2 (20%) FIXED: 3 (30%) MUTABLE: 5 (50%)

🥊 HITS LEADERS BY ELEMENT & MODALITY

 [NOTE: Hits leaders - Offense: 60%, Defense 40%]

Fire: 4 (40%) Water: 4 (40%) Air: 1 (10%) Earth: 1 (10%)

CARDINAL: 2 (20%) FIXED: 5 (50%) MUTABLE: 3 (30%)

🗝ROSTER INFO IN ONE CHART:

🔮TRENDS/MY INTERPRETATIONS & OBSERVATIONS

Highest sign representation is Pisces at 5 players, with 4 being on offense. Next highest is Aries, with two each on defense and goalies and zero on offense. More on these two signs a little later but here’s a quick rundown for each:

♓️Pisces key words: responsive, sentimental, sympathetic, unselfish, psychic, vague, escapist, imitative, shifting Pisces players: Boeser, Garland, Lafferty, Miller, Cole

♈️Aries key words: vital, aggressive, courageous, competitive, confident, outgoing, energetic, impulsive, bold Aries players: Juulsen, Zadorov, Silovs, Tolopilo (special mention: Coach Tocchet)

🐺The Lone Wolves (only person on team with sign - remember my ~10 game or less cutoff): Joshua (taurus), Suter (gem), Podkolzin (cancer), and Friedman (cap)

🔥Goalies are fire signs exclusively...which is SO intriguing to me. I suppose I can interpret that as fire signs being energetic and action-oriented and goalies can NEVER let up (they must keep the metaphorical fire going).

♍️Only sign not present ANYWHERE is Virgo. Not sure what that means but it is interesting to note.

Offense is DOMINATED by mutable signs while defense has mostly cardinal and fixed. Element-wise, the D-line has mostly fire, followed equally by air and water, and O-line has mostly water, followed by air. Here’s what I take away knowing all that: 

D-line needs sustained energy and power (going back and forth/ forward and backward), need to anticipate, react, and redirect quickly

Fire: take action, Air: seek knowledge, Water; seek connection Cardinal: assertive, meet the situation head on Fixed: stand one’s ground, patient and stubborn, maintain the energy Defense needs to attack/protect, needs to be thinking ahead, needs to be surveying/observing, get fired up, restart/set the plays/shifts

O-line needs constant fluidity and motion, need to look for openings, creativity

Water: seek connection, Air: seek knowledge Mutable: flexible/adaptable, weave, dodge, complete the cycle Offense needs to be adaptable and constantly moving/adjusting/trying new paths, respond to situation and make new/different plan, feel connection with others and be willing to sacrifice for the greater good/end goal (literally)

♓️Offense has more players and, by natural default, more distribution between signs, elements, and modalities. However, I still think it’s fair to say it’s dominated by those mutable water Pisces players. So the Canucks offense vibe is heavy pisces energy. 

💧🔥This team is primarily water and fire, which is a very passionate, emotional combination. Water is inwardly emotional while fire is outwardly emotional. Both have a creativity innate to them. Both care about others but go about it differently - fire signs are more protective while water signs are more empathetic (not to say each element isn’t both of those things, those traits are just more innate to each). They keep each other in check- fire makes water more active while water keeps fire from raging out of control. They are complementary/equal but opposite. I think pisces and aries being the most represented signs exemplifies this perfectly. 

Pisces is the last sign in the wheel, so sometimes I see it described as being the ‘wisest’ sign (imagine a life cycle - the last stage is the elder who possesses knowledge and wisdom). This is super interesting as aries is the next-most represented sign, which is the first sign/beginning of the wheel, thus they are the ‘babies’ of the zodiac. Again, I would say both signs experience emotion very deeply, though in very different ways. Pisces, mutable water, is deep like the ocean (a more settling/calm energy). Aries, cardinal fire, is reactive like a spark (think energetic jumpstart). I think pisces pulls in/withholds whereas aries pushes out/releases. This can obviously present difficulties, but there is also a balance to be struck, especially in a team environment, that I think can provide a natural give and take amongst players.

💥🪨💫The modalities are well-represented on the entire roster, which I think is good as you need the initiators, the sustainers, and the refiners all to be present to complete the ‘cycle’. It does seem intuitive that the forwards are mostly mutable and the defensemen are mostly cardinal and fixed. Like i mentioned earlier, forwards need to be constantly moving and changing and adapting on the ice. Defensemen i see as needing to sometimes be like a rock/barrier (fixed) and sometimes like an aggressor (cardinal). Now the goalies have all three modalities but are all fire. Honestly, that’s one of the top things that caught my eye and i’m so tempted to look into other teams to see if this is a league-wide goalie phenomenon or just a Canucks thing lol

🎯 The points leaders trends follows the team's overall mutable water (pisces) being the most represented. 80% of the points leaders are offense players, which makes sense. Quinny is up there at number 2, though, bc he’s just special like that 😊

🥊 The hits leaders trends has a couple things i want to note, though. Dak is number one up there as the sole fixed earth sign on the team (the lone taurus). Furthermore, there’s more distribution between offense and defense at 60% and 40%, respectively. It’s the fixed signs that really show up in the hits leaderboard, which tracks with the themes of fixed signs being standing one’s ground AND maintaining inertia. Fixed signs are stubborn and won’t take anything lying down. Get the fuck out of my way type shit.

Side note, Dak has very earthy energy to me and i love it. He seems very genuine and down-to-earth (specifically talking about off-ice Dak. he flips the switch on ice). I wonder how he does with the VERY little earth energy on the team (only EIGHT PERCENT TOTAL?!?! wild. what's up with that). Earth and water signs mesh well (SEE: GARLY WORK WIFE), but not having your specific energy matched can be personally draining on you. 

♎️Captain Quinn being a libra is VERY fitting, especially given the overwhelming water and fire presence on the team. Libra is a cardinal AIR sign.

Libra key words: diplomatic, other-oriented, peaceful, fair, balanced, go-between energy. (the symbol for libra is literally the scales = justice/fairness) Air signs are communicative and social. They compartmentalize their emotions (his thousand-yard stare honestly is very on brand lmao). Cardinal signs are natural leaders and want to DO something about it (whatever it may be). I think Quinn is likely a natural at seeing/understanding both ‘sides’ (water and fire) and can distill what’s necessary and important from all that emotion and fervor i’m sure the rest of the team provides. He can relay from team to coach and coach to team because air signs won’t let emotion cloud their logic when they can help it.  ♈️♎️Rick is an aries, which is noteworthy to me because aries and libra are sister signs. Sister signs have similar overall goals but their methods of going about it are different. Two sides of the same coin. Aries and libra are both interested in fairness (i would throw in the concept of competition here since we are talking about a sport), but aries is more interested in it on a personal level while libra is focused on it at the systemic level. Aries can sometimes get tunnel vision, be short-sighted and combative, and focus on the self. Libra can become vain and a cowardly people-pleaser in the interest of avoiding conflict. Libra can learn from aries to fight for what’s right and lead; aries can learn from libra to control their temper and practice selflessness. I’d love to see more of their aires/libra coach/captain dynamic and whether we can observe any of that playing out.

🔎Remember how I said i had some guesses about what’s going on in the rest of some players’ charts? Well, I would guess that JT definitely has some fire placements in his chart (emotional outbursts but you can tell he cares so deeply). I could see Garly having some air (communicative, social butterfly - the plane interviews come to mind lmao). Zadorov maybe has some earth for sassiness/dgaf attitude. 😆

OKAY, that’s all I got. If you’ve made it this far, YOU’RE AN ANGEL AND ILY. 💙🤍💚 I hope this was both comprehensible and at least a little interesting and that it resonated. This team feeds off energy and vibes and i think it makes sense given their astrological makeup. PLEASE let me know your thoughts!!! I’d love to discuss more!