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esyra · 1 year ago

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After the hospital bombing, I finally heard back from my grandmother and confirmed that several of my relatives were murdered by Israeli bombing. Seven of them, to be precise. Three are still going, including her. We've been talking constantly ever since.

Asked if it was possible to head south, and was told they did but were also bombed there. So they decided to go back home, in Zeitoun. Their home was bombed and they were pulled out of the rumble, then driven by ambulances to the al-Ahli Arab Hospital. There were people in every corner. Gazans sheltering, sleeping on the floor. Gazans dying on the floor, waiting for beds.

Four were declared dead on arrival, three were in need of surgery and other three were just bandaged. Then, a bomb was dropped in the parking lot that made parts of the ceiling collapse, like Dr. Ghassan Abu Sittah reported in that horrific conference/interview. Those in need of surgery died.

By the way, just in case you didn't know: the Church of Saint Porphyrius, the third oldest in history, bombed by Israel a few days back, was located near the hospital.

When looking for new shelter, they saw schools with signs hanging outside, "We can't take any more families." They met families, sympathetic but already sheltering too many people. They're now staying in an apartment building they found empty. Sleeping in the corner of the living room. If the family comes back, they'll apologize and leave.

Told me she was saving her phone battery for when the bombing stopped, and she had to ask for help to rebuilt the neighborhood. But she doesn't think it's gonna stop anymore. The ones still with her are mute most of the time, like they're saving energy, but she feels lonely and wanted to talk. There's no internet and to connect to WhatsApp, people are buying "a card from the supermarket, there's a password and username." Not sure what she meant. Still, the internet is inconsistent and won't load neither videos or images nor pages, so she doesn't know what's happening on the outside world.

Told her there were a lot of people protesting to stop the genocide, she replied, "The bombings are getting worse by the day." The bombing yesterday was the worst she ever witnessed. The entire neighborhood is infested with the smell of death, of decomposing bodies. Bodies are piling up in the streets and she's not sure if it's because they ran out of places to store them, but most of them are in bags. The smoke of the bombings hide the blue sky—she hasn't seen the clouds for a while.

Asked if I could share their pictures, names and dreams with people and was told, of which I partly agree, "they're not entertainment." If anyone genuinely cared, they would be alive—I'd argue there are people who do care, but I'm not gonna lecture her pain. And they don't deserve to be used to fulfill someone's sick fantasy. Told me to remember what some Israelis do with pictures of dead Palestinians. And I do.

For those of you who are not familiar, many times before settlers got together to celebrate the murder of Palestinians. For one, in 2015, Israeli settlers set a house in Duma, West Bank on fire. An 18-month old baby, Ali Dawbsheh, was burnt alive. Both parents later died of wounds and only a 5-year-old, Ahmad, survived, although severely injured.

Two celebrations of their murder are widely known, one at a wedding and others outside the court in which two were indicted for the terrorist attack. In the wedding, guests stabbed a photo of the toddler, Ali, while others waved guns, knives and Molotov cocktails. Israel's Minister of National Security, Itamar Ben-Gvir, was present.

That's what happens in an apartheid. Palestinians are so abused by authorities that their "innocent civilians" come to accept the brutality as necessary or are desensitized by our suffering. After all, it's been 75 years—get used to it!

So I won't risk the image of my loved ones, in fear they are used in these kinds of depravity. I will say, though, the world lost a young footballer. Lost a female writer and an aspiring ballerina. Lost a kind father, who was also a great cook, and a loving mother that enjoyed sewing and other types of handicraft art. Lost a math teacher and a child that wanted to become one.

People think Israel is testing new weapons on them. There's civilians arriving at the hospital with severe burns, which they thought was from white phosphorus, but apparently the pattern is different from the one caused by white phosphorus. It's widely believed Israel tests weapons in Palestinians.

Jeff Halper, author of War Against the People, a book on Israel's arms and surveillance technology industries, said: "Israel has kept the occupation because it's a laboratory for weapons."

They've ran out of drinkable water and the "aid" Biden sent was only for the South of Gaza and no fuel, for hospitals, was allowed in. Many shelves in the supermarket are empty. She said many are convinced that if they don't die from the bombing, they'll die from starvation or dehydration, or whatever disease will develop from the dirty water they're drinking.

Told me all people do now is pray, cry and die. Told me she hopes West Bank is spared. Told her Israel bombed a mosque in West Bank and dozens of Palestinians in West Bank are being murdered by settlers, so she bided me goodbye.

#palestine #free palestine #gaza #free gaza #may allah protect them #may almighty allah see our pain #hopefully she'll message me tomorrow

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norikuna · 2 months ago

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BED CHEM— geto suguru minors dni. art by to00fu !

welcome to the christmas tour ! take a seat in section (b) and let the show begin !

prologue. → ditching your friend's christmas condo party for your scrumptious, needy boyfriend? yes please!

want to try sitting somewhere else ? take a look at the ticket chart again !

pairing. geto suguru x afab!reader

warnings+. awful usage of brainrot slang to weird geto out (mission successful), making out, messy sèx, crèampiè, nothing crazy !

word count. 5k! song inspiration. bed chem — sabrina carpenter

a/n. happy 1 month birthday to this blog!!!!!! 😭 kind of fitting that i celebrate with a geto fic <3

mp3. where art thou? why not uponeth me? see it in my mind, let's fulfill the prophecy !

"hey," you say, holding up the dress and crinkling the red satin in your fingers, "what'd you think of this one?"

it's a gorgeous number, a sheer, corset bodice with a daring thigh-high slit, all set to softly drape off your shoulders. the kind of dress that screams 'sexy without trying too hard' and 'television heroine vampire heiress'. your goal in life.

geto doesn't even glance up from his latest obsession, crouched by the kitchen counter. he's eye level with a pavlova, drizzling raspberry glaze over it like he's performing surgery. without missing a beat, "it's cool. for someone desparate in witness protection," he deadpans.

you scoff, clutching the gown like the aforementioned television heroine, "you just say weird shit sometimes. what does that even mean? and a day one hater, didn't even look up..."

"and yet," geto mutters, still hyper-focused on his dessert, "i know i'm right."

you throw the dress onto the couch dramatically, "suguru, you bought this dress for me."

that gets your boyfriend's attention and he looks up, catching the gleam of familiar red satin, and visibly gulps, "oh. my bad. it's, uh, hot you'd look hot, i mean."

"nice save, baby," you arch a brow.

he tosses his inky black hair back, some of it falling right back into his face, "what's it for?"

you sigh, propping your legs up on the worn couch, "that big party, remember? my friend who got married and had a kid last year, y'know her right?"

geto hums, popping a fresh blueberry into his mouth, without taking his eyes off the pavlova, "mmph," he says through a mouthful, "the one who married the guy who cheated on her like thrice?"

you grin, delighted he remembers the gossip you've spoon fed to him over time, "yeah, well, apparently he tried making it up to her by buying her an entire condo."

geto wrinkles his nose in disgust, "tacky. ya' just can't buy class."

"totally," you sigh, "but it's so nice in there. and when she hosts parties there, i can't really complain. it's like, so gorgeous."

then, you glance back at your focused boyfriend, watching as he artfully arranges more berries atop the meringue, "mhm, speaking of gorgeous, are you gonna stand there making love to the pavlova all night, or are you gonna help me accessorise this thing?"

geto glances at you, his violet eyes narrowing playfully, "why so needy? jealous of whipped egg whites and sugar?"

you flop your arms to your sides with a dramatic sigh, "what if i am?"

geto exhales as though you are his most tiresome, and favourite thing in the entire world. grabbing a silver spoon from the cutlery rack, and dipping it into the sticky-sweet raspberry glaze. he's striding towards you, and there's that signature air of both exasperation and amusement, "open."

you comply, simply because dessert trumps dignity, and not before biting down on the spoon with unnecessary force just to mess with him. the glaze simply melts on your tongue, and you smack your lips, "mmm. wait, this shit's really good. what's it for?"

geto laughs, stepping closer to swipe his warm thumb across your bottom lip to catch a stray bit of glaze, "for us, jus' us. thought we'd have something sweet for christmas."

you clutch your chest like a damsel, "i thought i was your sweet thing for christmas."

your dear boyfriend rolls his eyes, swatting your arm lightly with the sticky spoon, leaving a smear of glaze, "tch, what am i gonna do with you?"

you gasp in mock outrage at the sensation, but geto's expression shifts, softening as he swings a knee up onto the arm of the couch, "wan' me to come with ya?"

you blink, thrown off from his hauntingly beautiful features that you'll never get tired of, "come with me where?"

"that party, love."

your jaw practically hits the floor, "wait, really? you actually want to? thought you hated these things?"

geto's lips quirk upwards, shrugging a shoulder, "the things i do for my pretty girlfriend."

cue the squeal. exaggerated just enough to irritate him, just a bit. you clutch his arm, bouncing slightly, "aw! you really do love me!"

geto's exasperated look cracks, softening into something far more quiet and fond. he places a hand on your head, ruffling through your hair just enough to make you scowl at the mess, "don't push your luck," he warns. but his tone betrays his amusement, "i just feel bad i haven't gone to any of the others with you."

"i'm glad you said that, though, suguru," you start, already scheming as you lean forward and rest your head on his knee like its the most natural pillow in the world. he lets out a soft puff of breath, almost instinctively leaning down to press a kiss to your temple.

"remember those high-waisted pants i said would look really good on you?"

geto frowns, "the ones you said made me look like a...and i quote, a slutty mushroom?"

"bingo. you should wear them. the world deserves to see your delicious gyatt —"

your baiting words are accentuated by a pinch to the back of his dark sweatpants but cut off by his sharp exhale, and the way his fingers, which had been lazily tracing the curve of your ear, freeze mid-motion.

"my what, love?" geto asks, his tone a mix of suspicious and the kind of dread reserved for people who know they're about to regret asking a question.

"gyatt," you repeat, completely unrepentant, no shame nor misery, "it means —"

"i know what it means," geto cuts in, deadpan with a faint and tell-tale blush creeping onto his tan skin, "i'm cutting off our wifi. all our electricity actually."

you laugh, patting his muscular thigh lightly before squeezing it again for good measure, "oh, so you do know what it means. that's embarrassing for you, babe."

"and yet, somehow, i still have the moral high ground," geto grouches, pinching the bridge of his nose, "and you say that i say weird shit. now you're bringing gojo's tiktok fuckery into my own home."

"first of all, it's our home," grabbing the red dress and standing, almost knocking him off the couch's arm, "second of all, my big and tall and beautiful boyfriend is such a cutie patootie when he's embarrassed."

geto groans, tilting his head back, "stop. you're emasculating me."

you pause in the doorway, "you cry everytime we watch strawberry shortcake. you do that shit to yourself."

"that was one time!" geto protests, but you can hear the smile colouring his voice.

"two times."

"the mermaid episode was emotionally poignant. power of friendship and moral honesty despite the promise of treasure," he calls after you, "you wouldn't get the timeless themes!"

well, mission accomplished. the dress fits you like a second skin, hugging all the right places. and you're not even ashamed of how long you spend admiring yourself in the mirror. the way the corset lifts your chest, well, it's definitely giving hot and sexy vampire now.

you delicately pat a glitter bomb compact over your skin, letting the soft shimmer catch the light on your collarbones and shoulders. it's a fine balance, you think, but you know there's a fine line between 'faintly glittered-up' and looking like 'fenty beauty just projectile-vomited rosé rave' all over you.

"suguru!" you call out, expecting a snarky reply but hearing nothing. typical. "suguru!" you yell again, just because you can. you wander out of the bedroom, only to find him already in position: stretched across the couch, legs draped lazily over the armrest.

and fuck, he looks good. wearing those wide-legged pants you suggested, and obviously, you were right about them. a crisp white top with the sleeves rolled up just enough to show off his forearms. geto's hair is pulled back into that high, slightly messy knot he's so fond of, but a rogue and choppy strand has escaped, brushing against his cheek.

the whole look screams 'effortlessly hot' and you can imagine how smug he'd be if he knew what you were thinking.

"oh. hey, love," he greets casually, scrolling through his phone and still draped over the couch like a catalog model who knows all his angles. but then geto looks up, and the phone nearly slips out of his hand.

"uhhh, hey," he says, his eyes widening as he takes you in, and his rosewood lips part, as he says it again, clearly dumbfounded, "hey."

you laugh, crouching down next to him, amused by the way he's visibly short-circuiting, "not bad yourself," you tease, "what were you looking at?"

before he can stop you, you lean in to peak at geto's phone, pressing yourself against his side. glitter from your collarbones transfers onto his skin, but you're too busy laughing at his dimly lit screen to notice.

"suguru!" you gasp, your shoulders beginning to tremor, "fuckass yahoo answers, of all places. wait — i can't believe people still use that. stop moving your phone, let me read!"

is it good or bad if my girlfriend says i have a gyatt?

geto's ears turn deliciously red, and he locks his phone with an exaggerated click, "okay. nosy mcgee," and he's grumbling, "makin' me sound like a loser."

you pat his cheek lightly, grinning like a cheshire cat, "it means i think you're scrumptious," you say with mock seriousness, "like top-tier snackish. like, as in, i like your ass."

geto huffs, his lips twitching despite himself. and then, leaning forward, he presses a soft kiss to the tip of your nose. you wrinkle it instinctively, thinking of all the concealer and powder you had layered earlier.

"well," he says, as he brushes a strand of hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear, "i think you're pretty too."

you sigh dramatically, "just pretty? why did i end up with a nonchalant man?"

geto gasps, his mauve eyes widening in mock offence as he juts his lip forward, "hah, 'scuse me. i'm not nonchalant. i'm like the total opposite of nonchalant. i'm like...chalant."

you snort, catching his stray fingers as they linger close enough to your lips for you to playfully nip at them, "yes. you are. my very chalant boyfriend. what a hero."

geto rolls over to his side, so he's facing you. absolutely wrinkling his white shirt, "thank you for recognising my efforts."

but then his tone shifts, his gaze running over you, "but seriously, you look hot. like crazy hot. like wow, my girlfriend is insanely hot," and he leans in slightly, "and i jus' can't stop looking at your two, beautiful, perfect..."

it hits you that his gaze has dropped to the swell of your chest.

"suguru! my eyes are up here, you dog."

"shit, been caught." and he's still laughing at your grumbles, grabbing your wrist and gently pulling you up in one swift motion, dragging you alongside him towards the bedroom.

"hey!" you protest half-heartedly, trying to dig your heels into the carpet, "the front door's the other way, genius. we're gon' be late."

geto doesn't stop his stride, glancing back at you with a pleading look that's also smug at the same time, "yeah, but you're the one who looks like that. don't think i can function. i need a minute."

"geto suguru, everybody. one-minute wonder. all he needs to finish."

you hear your boyfriend's scoff, as a teasing laugh escapes him, "hah, can't help being like this, can ya? got a gold medal when it comes to pissing me off."

you smile sweetly, "it's because i love you."

geto rolls his rich-plum eyes, his hand guiding you towards the bed as he shakes his head, "you know i love you too, right?"

"duh."

"good," geto says, and with that, he's leaning in. pressing a hot kiss to your jaw, then moving to your waiting mouth. it's messy, sloppy, the kind that makes your pussy clench a bit. sue you, eh? it's just the effect that geto suguru has on you.

you let out a soft whine as his tongue smears across your satin-finished, ruby lips, perfectly lined not ten minutes ago. but then geto's pulling away, circling his finger lazily in the air. a wordless demand that leaves your thighs clenching in anticipation.

you playfully huff, but spin yourself away from him. planting yourself on all fours, hearing geto grunt as he seems to appreciate the view. tsk, your predictable, eager boyfriend.

his large hand is running slowly down your spine, like he's savouring the way the satin clings to you. it's sending shivers down your body, and you're certain that if geto were to push your dress up and cup your core with a large hand, he'd pull it away wet and dripping.

"ah, pretty. so pretty, aren'tcha?" and his fingers are tugging taut at the ruched dress, like he can't quite believe you're real and his. despite three smooth years of professing your love to one another.

"suguru," you protest, "y'know 's not a cheap dress, babe."

you can hear the amusement tinging his smooth voice, "i know. i bought it, remember? don't want you worryin' your pretty lil' head over it."

you let out a soft sigh as you feel him entirely lean his weight over you, enveloping you in that heady scent of leather and cardamom. scooting your ass back, so tight satin would faintly drag across his very pronounced erection.

"f-fuck," and geto's laugh is sharp, disbelieving. half a huff, and half a chuckle, but entirely in awe. broad, warm hands are gliding over you before the gentle press of his palms come to rest on your hips. he's sliding your dress up, letting satin rustle with a soft, whispering sound. leaving your skin exposed to the sudden and sharp kiss of the christmas air.

"wow," geto whistles quietly, appreciatively. he seemed to be enjoying the sheer red thigh-high tights that clung to the plush of your thighs like a second scarlet skin, and you gasp as he hooks a long finger underneath the lace border, snapping it once briefly in a mild sting.

his hands are so close to where you need them most, and it's so utterly infuriating. he's practically dancing his finger tips over your inner thighs, ghosting so close to your underwear. panties that were surely languid, weighty by now. you could feel the damp cotton growing far more slippery and tacky as geto suddenly ran a finger over your clothed cunt.

and you can hear the elation in his voice as he lifts a finger up to his mouth, swirling his tongue around your syrupy taste, "hah, you're practically a super-soaker. that's pretty cool."

you scowl, fighting the urge to swivel around and pounce him in retribution, "y-yeah, thanks," but the bite in your words is tempered by the lazy heat that coils in your stomach, "but you're taking too l-long, baby. can't you jus' -"

and you're deciding to take matters into your own hands, as geto seems fascinated by how thin, clear strands create small bridges between his fingers. you reach for the waistband of his high-waisted pants, running your own hand down his absurdly slender waist, right over a godly chiselled torso.

"y'got impatient, didn't you, love?" and now geto's scowling, hauling your wrist back to pin it behind your back like you foretold. but not before planting a soft press of lips to your inner arm, gentle and tender.

but you flex your fingers behind your back, stretching them out, groping at the air. your boyfriend must have noticed, almost immediately because of course he does, and you can hear a soft, knowing coo from behind you.

"ah, 's what you want, right?" he teases, sliding his cool, slender fingers over yours, intertwining them effortlessly, "just wanted me holdin' your hand, how cute."

"maybe i was j-just stretching," you huff, but squeezing his hand tighter.

geto hums, unconvinced, as his thumb brushes lazily over the back of your hand, and you can hear the sound of fabric rustling behind you, "sure. totally not begging me to hold your hand like some lovesick, little dove."

but any retort falls away from your tongue, right when you feel something heavy, and hot smack against your tailbone, leaving a faint, moist kiss that feels cold when it patters off, "now pay attention."

you muffle a small, desparate whine, as geto has one hand tangled with yours and the other being used to hold and smack his thick cock once more over the base of your spine, "hope s-she's ready f' me now."

you feel as though all the air has been utterly pushed out of you, just from geto practically splitting you in two. you don't even have to look at geto to know that he's absolutely wrecked already, just from the throbbing, curved tip of his cock pushing past your tight walls, snagging with only the mildest resistance.

you can almost see it in your mind's eye, picturing it all just from his low curses and gasp.

how his chin must have tucked low enough to kiss his sternum, feathery strands of hair spilling over his forehead. those inky lashes fluttering in disbelief and surrender over hazy mauve eyes.

"s-she's always so eager to take me," geto croons, and his eyes are practically glued to the way your puffy folds bulge and drool over his shaft slowly feeding inches into you, "almost there, love."

"look at, hah, t-that," your boyfriend drawls, but you can hear how entirely undone he is, that tremour cutting off the end of his words in a sharp gasp as you arch yourself into him, letting that stretch take you so deliciously.

"keep your back arched like that, love," geto murmurs, and his hands are guiding you, pulling your hips back in a gentle, rhythmic push-and-pull over his cock. leaving you to feel his girthy shaft rummage and jostle around your insides, leaving a hefty divot at the edge of your cervix in a way that has you suddenly keening out a faint moan, "doing s-so well for me."

and fuck, the sound of his groin smacking wet kisses against your ass has you feeling like your head was going to explode, and your heart was going to give out, pressing right up into your throats. but you can tell geto is pleased, ruined even as he slowly drags his cock out of you at a filthy, slow pace.

if only to make you feel every throbbing vein on him, and how it imprints on your gummy walls.

there's something just so right about him being in you like this, having his pretty love bent over and absolutely stuffed full of his cock, something that just makes sense.

and right now, nothing else in the world matters save for you, and geto can't bring himself to even care about deadlines, or a decent and sensible christmas dinner, or some stupid party. not when he's letting his weighty, drooling tip loll out of your folds.

thick and heavy like a heated rod in the cool air of the evening, as he pushes two long fingers to spread open your syrupy folds, running the angry-red tip over your gloss, before finally pushing himself back inside.

"i w-was gonna say it was this dress, love," geto stammers, swirling his hips around, trying to rustle right into you, "but i think it's just you. ya know w-what you do to me right, hah, don'tcha, pretty?"

oh you are more than aware. and that heightened sense of perception is only exacerbated by how the thick curve of his cock is bruising into you. slamming into you with a heavy smack!

geto's world tilts, leaving him teetering on the edge of an embarrassingly early orgasm. but he feels little shame, not when his head is so heavy and his lips sting, caught under the desparate press of his teeth. every shallow breath he takes feeling like it's just unravelling him further, circling the tips of his fingers over your clit, just so you can whine and arch yourself into him more.

geto decides to play that card more, wrapping a thick arm around you to pull you into the air slightly. that faint increase in angle making you buckle as his weeping tip pulls symphonies of thick, angry squelches from your sensitive cunt. each jostle of his sharp, staccato hips feeling more and more shaky.

"not too much, r-right?" geto's breath hitching in uneven bursts, caught somewhere between delirious laughter and incredulous, overstimulated sobs.

that sweet, and unsteady wheeze results in tears pricking at geto's eyes from the delicious heat of your pussy, falling over the feverish nape of your neck, "know you wanted to go o-out, wanted to wear this pretty dress but i think 'm gonna d-die if i stop now, 's okay with you, yeah?"

"not t-too much, suguru," you hiss, feeling crystalline tears pool in your own lashes, just from pure please, "f-fuck, 'm already so close."

and you truly are, he's drilling himself into you at a beastly place, jostling a large hand over your chest, brushing over the lace lining the corset bodice, as if he's desparate to get his hands into your dress, to brush his thumbs over sensitive nipples.

his cock leaving searing trails of precum against your drooling, fluttering walls, leaving behind a wet trail that almost burned you. the force of his crashing hips leaving stamps in their wake, and geto's gasping and groaning at the faint cling of your dewy pussy, snatching him in quick, forceful bursts.

you shuffle precariously, still jostled against him, as you push down the bodice of your dress. probably damaging the framework a bit, but it's so worth it to hear geto almost sigh in relief, letting his hands run over the fat of your tits. pinching, swirling his fingers over the soft skin.

geto thinks he might just collapse over you in a weak heap when he hears your whine, "wan' more, s-suguru."

yes, more. that's exactly what geto wants to give you. he wants to see you milk him dry from the heavy balls swinging against your skin, wants to see you heave breaths of air as his seed drips out of you. wants to have you pressed against him for hours on end, to flip you over so your ankle lock behind his neck.

his imagination must have been working overtime. for like the peak specimen of male virility that he is, geto suguru just ends up cumming instead.

and with an embarrassing, heady grunt from him, geto's pulling his pulsating cock out of your folds, doing his best to keep himself steady enough to use his other hand well.

to keep running his fingers in tight circles around your clit, while he lets his spurting cock pump load after load of translucent, white fluid paint your spine a pretty pearly sheen. coming right on you.

it's so messy, it's so filthy and geto feels mildly numb as he decides to push his still throbbing cock, one that is still spurting right back into you, as he pushes his weight onto you, taking care not to force you too harshly against the crumpled sheets.

and geto just can't help himself, can't stop himself from leaving sloppy, wet kisses to the back of your neck, to your cheek. can't help himself from tilting your face back so his mouth can meet yours, and he can taste that raspberry syrup from earlier on your tongue, sweet and tangy.

and geto doesn't even care that he sounds ruined, raw and brittle. absolutely tattered as he whines, "we d-don't have to go to that party, right? hnngh, jus' need to hear you say that we don't have to, i think 'm gonna need some more of her. milking me so w-well."

he doesn't hear much apart from your gasps, your short cries like a mantra of "ah, ah! suguru!"

you weren't even sure how much time had passed, an hour even. or more. and you vaguely wondered if your friends were still there. sitting at some christmas party in some luxury condo, whispering over flutes of champagne, wondering about where you were. unaware that your adonis-esque boyfriend had been pounding himself into you, stretching you out over his cock until you were seeing heavenly stars.

until you were feeling thick ropes of white paint your insides once more, and streaks of dark dimmed your vision, and mauve and violet flashed behind your eyes.

you're tugging at the hem of your dress, still laughing fondly as you watch geto. his tousled, choppy hair falling out of its knot, and his eyes half-lidded and blissed out. his crumpled white top clings to his lean frame, and he's propped up lazily against the headboard with his other thick arm slung back behind his head.

"give me another hour, and we can do it again, love," geto huffs, his voice still a little raspy from earlier.

you shake your head in amusement, despite the mildly uncomfortable feeling of slick sticking beneath your thighs, splattered over your beautiful dress, "mhm, what a nice way to spend christmas, huh?"

geto stares at you adoringly, and his eyes are heavy with contentment, like he can't quite believe that you're here, and for a second, you think maybe the world would stop right there, in this perfect moment.

he runs a thumb over your face, pressing down on your lower lip, "i think it's better than some party," and geto's tone is dreamy, lazy, "no offence to your friend."

you snicker, thinking about whether you're going to need some well-thought excuse for your dear friend. or whether you're going to spill the whole truth for her.

but just as you're about to pull geto's plush mouth into another lazy kiss, his brow furrows. a sudden, concerned shift in his expression.

"hey," your boyfriend mutters, reaching to find his phone, "what's the humidity like tonight?"

you blink, caught off guard, "humidity? what's it matter?"

well, your skin feels unusually sticky, like the air itself is clinging to your sweat-dampened skin. despite the cool air of the december night. and there's that sweet, pleasant tiredness settling into your bones.

geto's suddenly sitting up, his eyes wide with realisation, "wait, love. fuck," he's muttering, scrambling up to his feet, "the kitchen!"

before you can process what's happening, he's racing for the door, and you stare at the empty spot on the rumpled sheets where your broad boyfriend was sitting not ten seconds ago.

"what is wrong with that man?" you murmur, but you hear a panicked cry from the kitchen, something about that damned pavlova going limp and soft with the heating on.

you bite back a small comment about something else going limp and soft, deciding to save that one for later when he's back in bed.

#geto suguru #geto x reader #geto smut #geto suguru smut #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #geto suguru x reader #suguru geto #suguru geto smut #suguru geto x reader #geto x you #works #daphworks

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cjlouwho · 4 months ago

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He wished he could say he knew it was a bad idea before it happened, but he didn't.

It wasn't until the saw blade had sliced straight down his leg and the blood started seeping onto his pants and pooling on the garage floor that he realized hey, maybe I should have been a little more careful.

Still, without allowing himself to panic, he made himself a tourniquet before getting into his truck and heading toward the hospital.

“I was going through your files, Thomas,” Tommy's nurse, Angela, said as she walked into his room, “and you have a blank space where your emergency contact should be. Why's that?”

“Well good morning to you too, Angela,” Tommy replied, plastering on a grin. “Lovely to see you, as always.”

She cocked her head to the side, resting a hand on her hip. “Mhm. You need an emergency contact, Thomas.”

“Nobody calls me Thomas, Angela.”

“And nobody calls me Angela, Thomas.”

Tommy pushed himself up in the bed, wincing slightly at the pain that radiated down his leg. “What do they call you then? Angie? Ang? Ella?”

“This is serious, Mr. Kinard.”

“Angel?”

Angela sighed. “With your career, it's very important to have an emergency contact on file.” She moved closer to him, maneuvering the tray table over his lap and setting some paperwork down with a pen. “Get to writing.”

“Okay, okay,” he relented, picking up the pen. She waited as his hand hovered over the form. After a few seconds, he blinked up at her. “What's your number?”

“I find it very hard to believe that a pretty boy like you doesn't have at least one name and number he can drag from his phone to that piece of paper right there.”

“Is that a no on your number?”

“As long as no infection gets in that leg, you'll be out of here tomorrow,” she said, ignoring his question. “You have to have a ride or we can't release you.”

“Oh, come on,” Tommy whined, “I drove myself here!”

“Which was stupid!” She replied. “A gash that big, nearly to the bone. You're lucky you didn't bleed out on your way in.”

“My tourniquet skills are unmatched.”

“Well your common sense skills could use some work.” She took a look at her watch, let out another sigh. “I'll leave the paperwork with you. I'll be back in two hours to change your dressing and give you some meds.” She tapped on the paper, “I want a name and a number when I get back.”

Tommy grinned up at her, “Yes, Ma'am.”

He kept the smile on his face until she was out of the room, then he dropped the act. He tossed the pen down and pushed the tray away from him, pressing the button on the side of his bed so he'd be lying down.

Carefully, as to not disturb his leg, he turned onto his side and closed his eyes, letting sleep take over.

*****

When Tommy woke up nearly an hour later, it was due to loud noises across the hall.

Laughter.

A lot of it.

There was some shushing, and things quieted down for a minute, then it started back up again. It almost sounded like they were having a party over there.

When another round of laughter started, Tommy decided to get up and take a look at what was causing all the commotion.

Moving around too much wasn't recommended after the surgery and stitches he had to have for the gash on his leg, but he was tired of doing nothing and the door wasn't that far away.

Cautiously, he sat up and swung his legs around until he was sitting on the edge of the bed. He pushed himself up, groaning slightly at the pain.

He clenched his teeth together and took a step, barely tiptoeing with his left foot to keep as much pressure on the right as he could.

He managed to make it to the door in five steps, leaning against the frame as he stared at the room across the hall.

The door was halfway open, filled with more people than Tommy thought was allowed in a room. He could see flowers on a corner table, and balloons nearby with GET WELL SOON written on them.

A man peeked around the corner, his smile turning into a grimace. “Sorry!” he exclaimed. “We're trying to keep it down over here.”

“Oh, you're fine,” Tommy assured him, motioning to his leg. “Needed to move around a bit.”

“Our boy over here just had surgery on his leg too,” the man said. “Trying to cheer him up since he'll be out of office for a couple months.”

Tommy forced a smile. “That's nice. Please, don't mind me. I'm not gonna be making it much further than here, just needed to get out of bed.”

“Alright. Feel better, Man.”

Tommy nodded. “Thanks.”

As the man disappeared back behind the door, Tommy turned back to his room. It'd been three days since his surgery, but there wasn't a balloon in sight. No flowers, no stuffed animals, no people. Nothing.

It was fine though. It wasn't like he needed those things. His captain had texted him that all his shifts had been covered, not to worry. A couple of coworkers had sent him teasing messages about hurting himself off the clock.

That was enough.

As he got back to the bed and laid down, he grabbed his phone off of the tray table. He was forever thankful to Angela for going downstairs to the gift shop on his first day in recovery to get him a charger.

He opened up the Uber app and clicked through all the steps to schedule a ride home tomorrow. He'd come back sometime soon to pick up his truck.

Once that was settled, he looked at the time. Angela would be back soon, and expecting a name and number on that piece of paper.

With a very dramatic eye roll, he grabbed the pen and quickly wrote down a name and a number.

*****

Twenty minutes after changing his dressing and getting his paperwork, Angela walked back into the room with a glare on her face. “You can't have Uber's corporate number as your emergency contact, Tommy.”

He gave her his award winning smile. “Hey, you called me Tommy!”

“I'm being serious with you. Who is Gary P.? Did you make him up?”

“Absolutely not,” Tommy gasped, feigning offense. “Gary P. is the lovely man who will be taking me home tomorrow. For the low, low price of $42.35. That's before tip, of course.”

“So you put your Uber driver down and added the corporate number?”

“You're in the wrong field, Angela,” Tommy said, wiggling his finger toward her. “You should be a detective.”

Tommy hadn't asked, but he was pretty sure by the face Angela was giving him that she was a mother. “What is this?” she asked. “Too macho to let anyone know you're hurt?”

“I've actually worked very hard to rid myself of toxic masculinity, thank you very much.”

“Tommy-”

“You've been a nurse a long time, Angela,” Tommy interrupted, beginning to feel a little irritated by her refusal to let it go. “I'm sure I'm not your first patient without an emergency contact.”

“You're not,” she agreed. “But with your job, you could have your captain or a coworker-”

“If I get hurt on the job, my captain and coworkers will already know. I'm not going to have them running down to the hospital because I didn't properly secure a saw. I texted my captain that I'd be out of commission for a while, he texted back. It's all good.”

“A parent?”

“No mom.”

“Your dad then?”

He let out a humorless laugh. “Angela, please, don't joke like that.”

“If something serious were to happen to you, you need someone on the form.”

Tommy rested his head against the pillow and stared up at the ceiling. “If something serious were to happen to me, let it happen,” he said. “We're all gonna die anyway, don't need anyone to watch.”

He could feel her watching him. Could sense the pity. He closed his eyes, hoping she got the hint.

After a few seconds, he heard her shuffling around, and when he opened his eyes again, she was gone.

*****

Gary P. wasn't exactly the kindest man Tommy had ever met. He seemed frustrated that he had to pick Tommy up in the first place, as if he hadn't accepted the ride. He was impatient, huffy, took two wrong turns, and practically shooed Tommy out of the car the second they arrived at his house.

“You know, Gary,” Tommy said as he pushed the car door open and took a wobbly step onto his driveway, “I'm beginning to regret putting you as my emergency contact.”

Before Gary could even register what Tommy had said, he slammed the door and turned toward his house.

As soon as he got inside, he headed for the couch. He tossed down his keys, phone, and the bag of pain meds from the hospital pharmacy before sitting down himself. He propped his leg up on the coffee table and leaned his head back, closing his eyes and falling asleep.

When he woke back up it was due to a throbbing in his leg. He couldn't help the moan that escaped him as he tried to pull himself back up from the slumped position he'd sunk into.

He reached over for his meds and grabbed the bottle out of the bag, popping off the lid and shaking out one of the pills into his palm.

He needed water. He'd never been able to swallow pills without a drink of some kind. But water was all the way in the kitchen and the kitchen felt very far away right now. Especially when he could feel his heart beating in his leg.

Still, he knew the pain would only get worse if he didn't get up. So, he stood and his groans turned into whimpers with each step he took.

He ignored the pain as best as he could, stopping when he reached the fridge to lean against it with his hands gripping the door handle.

After letting himself take a few deep breaths, he opened the fridge and grabbed a water. He opened the bottle quickly and swallowed the pill, feeling a slight vindication at the fact that he'd done it and he could go back and rest again.

And that's when it hit him. Standing in the middle of his kitchen, staring back toward the living room, it hit him all at once.

He'd need to fix himself something to eat soon, or order something at least. Either way, he'd be walking to the kitchen or the front door. He needed to go to the bathroom. Needed a shower. Needed to rewrap his leg. He desperately wanted to sleep in his bed but wasn't sure if he could get back up after he laid down. Then he remembered he was in the middle of washing his sheets when he hurt himself so they were still in the washer, probably soured, which meant he needed to get his spare set of sheets out of the linen closet and make his bed.

He'd have to get another Uber in a day or two to go pick up his truck. God, what if he got Gary again? He needed to let his captain know when he'd be back at work. Needed to remember to get a release form when he went back to the doctor for a checkup. He needed to go grocery shopping. He needed to make sure all his bills were paid for the month. He needed... he needed help.

He needed someone.

He was so damn tired.

His eyes burned as he rested his elbows on his countertop, digging the palms of his hands into his eyes.

He was fine.

It was fine.

He didn't need anybody.

The couch would be fine for tonight.

He'd figure everything else out on his own.

He'd always figured everything out on his own.

This was no different. He just needed the pain to stop and to get some rest and he'd be fine.

With a deep breath, he straightened up. He ignored his blurry, wet eyes as he took each pain-filled step back to the couch. And if a few tears fell down his face on the way, well, at least no one would ever know.

*****

It took three and a half weeks before his leg was healed enough for him to return to work.

There was no big fanfare on his first day back, which he was thankful for.

A couple of people gave him a high five and asked him how gnarly the scar was. One guy told him he was forced to take three of his shifts, so Tommy owed him. His captain kept him on light duty and told him to make sure he let him know if he felt any pain.

Other than that, it was a regular day.

Another week passed until he could go back up in the chopper. He was thankful to be back in the air again. Back where he belonged. He could forget everything when he was in the air.

Just focus on flying. That's the way he liked it.

It was in the middle of his second shift back as pilot when his phone buzzed in his pocket.

He stared at the name that lit up on his screen, eyebrows furrowed in confusion before answering.

“Howie? What's up, Man?”

“Hey, Tommy! Long time no talk, I know, but I, uh, I got a big favor to ask.”

#tommy kinard #911 #bucktommy #(not really though)#lonely tommy my beloved #this was not everything I wanted it to be but my niece wants to go to bed and I wanted to post this tonight #so it is what it is #enjoy!

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ms-demeanor · 5 months ago

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I've been following what's been going on with Belphie the kitten and his person, Greer Stothers, has just mentioned pet insurance in a tag on a post and I wanted to give an example from my life backing up why pet insurance can be a good idea and why I think it is worthwhile.

Two years ago my sister's dog had bloat while she was on vacation. The kennel he was staying at recognized symptoms and called my sister to clear them to take him to the emergency vet. My sister is very financially secure and this dog is an enormous part of her life, so she said yes with barely a moment of hesitation. That ended up being about twelve thousand dollars of emergency surgery.

Large Bastard and I got pet insurance for Tiny Bastard the same week because we realized that if someone had presented that option to us, we would have had no choice but to have Tiny Bastard put down, and we didn't want to be put in that position.

I did a lot of research about different kinds of pet insurance and different levels of coverage and annual maximums and deductibles and so on and so forth. Tiny Bastard is a senior dog, so this was going to be expensive no matter what options we went with, so I chose a moderately priced plan with a $500 annual deductible, unlimited annual coverage, that pays 80% of the bills incurred annually below the maximum. What that means is that we pay the first $500 of care totally out of pocket, after which point we are reimbursed 80% of any vet bills for care covered by the plan.

The first year we had this plan I was kind of iffy about it. It's a noticeable monthly expense and we didn't even spend the deductible in vet bills the first year. Except that a month before the policy was set to renew, Tiny Bastard got diagnosed with diabetes. We now have monthly insulin costs and syringe costs; there are tests she has to have regularly to monitor her overall condition and we need to do more frequent vet visits to track symptoms.

Suddenly the insulin alone means that the insurance is break-even within six months and the additional visits and tests are something we can afford instead of something we'd have to put on credit.

Our plan (through ManyPets) covers medication, surgery, diagnostics, medical equipment, and euthanasia and cremation. It doesn't cover pre-existing conditions, joint conditions for dogs who were signed up over a certain age, dental care, spay/neuter, vaccinations, or prescription food but honestly all of that makes me just kind of wish we'd signed her up earlier - her knee problems *would* be covered if we'd had her signed up as a puppy, and the monthly cost would have been lower if we'd signed her up then. And there are at least a few emergency vet bills that I wouldn't still be paying off on my credit card. Hell, I've probably paid more in interest on some bruising she got in a fight three years ago than I have for this policy as a whole.

I am glad that Greer is able to take care of Belphie. I am glad that my sister was able to take care of her dog. But I'm also really, really glad that for a relatively low cost, I would be able to take care of Tiny Bastard if she were catastrophically injured, or if she needed emergency surgery. I'm glad that I'm able to take care of her now with her medications and her additional vet visits.

There are a lot of people who say that pet insurance isn't worth it, especially not for young animals. But if your young animal gets very sick, or gets badly injured, or eats a hairband and needs an emergency endoscopy, then it will probably be VERY worth it. It's a risk/reward question. You feel like you're wasting money if you're paying for a policy that you never use, but honestly that just means you're lucky to have a healthy pet.

I'm lucky that Tiny Bastard was relatively healthy before I got the insurance; I'm also lucky that she was insured when she was diagnosed with a chronic illness that will need lifelong care. This enables me to provide care for her that would otherwise be financially unmanageable, and that makes the insurance *extremely worth it* from my perspective.

And Belphie is a good example of why it's a good idea to get coverage even for very young pets. Greer is recommending it because this kitten has required a tremendous amount of care during a period in his life when it's generally taken for granted that a cat will be healthy. (And Greer is not stupid for forgoing pet insurance - pet insurance is still a relatively new concept and there are lots of people who are leery of it for a number of good reasons)

So I'd say that if you've got a pet or are getting a pet it is very worthwhile to find a pet insurance plan that fits in your budget. There are a variety of plans out there and some are very inexpensive. Check coverage levels (you can even get some with wellness plans that include dental care and vaccinations) and see if there's something that works for you.

I personally don't think I'm ever going to own another pet without having pet insurance. It's ridiculous how much easier it is for me to say yes to diagnostic tests or different treatments than it was before because I know I'm going to be able to fit Tiny Bastard's care into our budget.

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flowercrowncrip · 6 months ago

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I think a lot of physically abled people think that medical settings are designed to be accessible for physically disabled people, when that is so far from the truth.

I can't access half the rooms in my GP surgery, which often means that doctors have access to the computer system during my appointments because they're logged in upstairs and it would take too long for them to log out and then log back in. The GP practice also doesn't have any accessible parking spaces – I have to park in town and then walk/roll 20 minutes just to get there.

Then there's the fact that the equipment just isn't accessible. The GP practice cannot monitor my weight or perform certain physical exams because they don't have sitdown scales or any hoist safely transfer me on to an examination table. This meant I developed life-threatening starvation related ketoacidosis because my GP was unable to monitor my weight when I was unwell, so didn't realise how bad my malnutrition was.

A lot of wheelchair users in the UK resort to using veterinary practices because dog scales are more accessible than the scales in GP practices.

The same is true in hospitals. The majority of hospitals don't have changing places toilets so anyone who needs significant support from carers, or who need hoisting or an adult changing table can't use the toilet in hospital. When I was admitted recently every time I needed to transfer to a commode it took a significant amount of time to find people who had the appropriate training to use the hoist. And when those people were found, there wasn't really enough room to use one safely or with dignity. The commode that they had also did not meet my needs at all, and it's honestly a miracle I didn't fall, which given I'd just had surgery wouldn't have been good.

#Disability #physical disability #cripplepunk #Wheelchair user

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tyquu · 11 months ago

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Ah I remember my question now!! Since Ezra is a growing boy, how does that impact his prosthetic use? I'm assuming they can't just go get him refitted like normal... do they help him resize? Do they build new parts? Or help him find some?

Hiii!! :D) So I doodled out my thoughts as I pondered this question but my handwriting is ass so… I’m also gonna write a little summary too!

Ezra's first Prosthetic was given to him by the same people who performed the amputation on his leg in the first place. Some concerned Lothali citizens who couldn't bare to watch him hop around on his severely infected leg any longer. 12 year old Ezra was pretty pissed about it though (understandably). It didn't help that his first prosthetic was old as balls and awful to walk on.

Thankfully, using bits n bobs he'd collected out on the streets, Ezra was able to tighten the loose hinges at the joints and modify the top to fit better. Alas, he ended up loosing this leg after bopping Kallus over the head with it pretty early on into joining the spectres.

Hera set him up with a pair of crutches and then devoted herself to finding him a replacement. She was determined to find something that was better than his last prosthetic and thought she'd struck gold when she figured out Vizago had one sitting in storage. She haggled hard but eventually managed to pocket the rarity, and delivered it back to Ezra. Sabine helped modify it fit to properly, and to Ezra's delight he discovered that the hinges on this leg were motion activated, and could pack an even better punch (or kick) than his previous one.

Ezra hadn't really manage to curb his habit of using his leg as a weapon on occasion, and during such an incident ended up losing leg 2 (much to Hera's despair). Thankfully, Sabine had helped Ezra do enough maintenance on his last two legs that she was confident she could fix up some similar prototypes using her engineering skills. The spectres all contributed to a scrap box that would be used to build replacement legs whenever Ezra ended up losing or outgrowing one. All of them were very dedicated to scouting out parts for him and happy to help with maintenance.

At some point the rebellion had gotten large enough to start having a more organised healthcare system, and Ezra was offered a spot on the surgery waitlist for cybernetics. Ezra was initially hesitant, however, post the incident on Malachor he eventually agreed.

The cybernetic, although not the most advanced for it's time, is connected to his nerves giving him full mobility over the prosthetic. However, it came with it's own new quirks that took some getting used to. Detaching and Reattaching the cybernetic takes between 2-5 minutes to do, and often requires tools to help, rendering it no longer an option as a spontaneous mid battle weapon. As a result there was no longer need for him to cut holes in the left leg of his trousers either.

Ezra doesn't sleep with the cybernetic (same as one wouldn't with a prosthetic) cause it would be hella uncomfortable. On lazy days, he often goes without it, opting to use crutches around base instead. The cybernetic is waterproof, however, in both snow and sand it can sometimes become clogged and stiff, and may need extra maintenance after the mission is complete. The ghost crew is always willing to help pitch in with their engineering expertise (mainly Hera, Sabine and Chopper) or spare part gathering.

Anywho,,, yeah. I hope that sort of answers that question?? I'm not 100% familiar with how prosthetics and cybernetics work in the Star Wars universe so forgive me if some of this info doesn't check out. ( also if u see a spelling mistake,,, no u don't)

#star wars #ezra bridger #star wars rebels #sw rebels #hera syndulla #sabine wren #amputee ezra bridger #cybernetics #ty tidbit #asks #swr art #ghost crew #star wars fanart

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queenburd · 4 months ago

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Hey errybody, I got in a fight with a surgeon and lost! Well, actually this was a win for me.

After over 5 years of consultations, shifting insurances, therapists that wouldn't sign off, and other things, I finally got 10 pounds off my chest on Wednesday! Yeah, 10 pounds. It was not a Small Amount.

Because it was a major surgery, I'm on bedrest now. Work's on pause (they will be taking me back on happily once I am able to actually work and accommodations are all set up), and that leaves..... bills.

I WAS able to get rent for the next two months sorted out with my health care and that's another weight off my chest (haha heehee), but that's not covering Internet and power costs sadly. Not to mention my credit card bill, boooo.

If you wanna help me make ends meet for the next couple months, you can donate to me through paypal here. (I've tried Venmo? Venmo doesn't like me.)

I do also accept Zelle!

Every penny helps! I'd like to get up to about $400, if feasible. Again, these funds will be used for Internet, power, and my credit card, while I'm unable to work. If you can't donate anything, sharing is also appreciated!!

Thank you for reading! And if you've followed me a long time, thanks for accompanying me on this very long journey. We made it you guys!!!

#i got FOUR DRAINS in me im TIRED #so no commissions opening rn sorry

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torturedtypewritersdept · 1 month ago

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blue eyes + bruises - part one

✯ pairing:

doctor!rafe cameron x fem!reader

✯ summary:

a tragic car accident looks like it'll be the end for you, but dr. cameron is here to make sure that doesn't happen.

✯ warnings:

mature themes, mentions of anxiety, nostalgia, and fear, car accident, death of a spouse (not rafe or y/n), major surgery, injuries, hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, etc.

✯ a/n:

nothing!! please don't engage if you have a hard time with any of these topics <3 this was origianlly posted on my old blog @/illicitfixations, @/lovelornanonymity back in 2021/2022 and i have rewritten + reshared it here :)

m.list

—

Sarah doesn't have lunch often with her brother, but she does today, placing the responsibility of taking care of him on herself, as she always does. Her latest manifestation of this fact is you – her best friend since her college days. He doesn’t know it, but she’s coming to him with a proposition; your sweetness and his intelligence – she knows they’d meld together like a puzzle and that’s precisely why she’s set up a date between the two of you for this evening. She enters the hospital cafeteria slowly, spotting him from across the gigantic space. His shoulders are slumped and she clocks a limp in his step, instantly sure he’s been on his feet for far too long. She smiles softly as they lock eyes and notices his are far more sunken in than she’d like them to be; in fact, they almost resemble the dark black holes of a skull missing its skin and as he makes his way feverishly through the cafeteria line, she wonders if he’s okay.

“Rafe – you look like you haven’t eaten in six days.”

She scolded as the older Cameron made his way to the table and sat his tray down across from her.

“I eat.”

He grunted in response, rolling his blue orbs into the back of his head at her incessant need to pick him apart in the form of worry. This was why he didn’t return to North Carolina after college, after all. Though he couldn’t in part blame it all on his baby sister, the discontent of his father and the enthralling energy of the city had wooed him and his bride.

“Yeah, okay, hot shot.”

She replied, laughing, throwing a french fry in his direction.

“You’re gonna be mad but I've promised your hand to someone for the evening.”

She said, giggling.

“Dammit, Sarah!”

He replied, the huff that escaped like that of an agitated dog.

“Come on, big brother! Please – she’s my sweet friend from college and she’s nice and shy and she –”

“I don’t care. I’m not going.”

Rafe interjected aggressively.

“Well, too fucking bad. I already told her you agreed and I’d really hate it if you stood her up. It was like pulling teeth to get her to agree to even give you a chance.”

“Too. Fucking. Bad.”

He gritted out.

“No – don’t play with me, I know you. Rafe Cameron is a lot of things, but he isn’t cruel and it took a lot of convincing for her to come out anyways, so please.”

Squinting her eyes in annoyance and shaking her head, she waged her war with him blatantly, tired of his bullshit only five minutes into the conversation in only a way that he could ignite.

“Tell that to Molly. She thinks I am.”

He whispered.

“No she didn’t – doesn’t.”

She caught herself, two years later still not used to talking about her sister-in-law in past tense.

“Just go – please. Get out of this hospital and those fucking ugly scrubs.”

She pleaded, her soft blue eyes always something he had to give into.

“Fine, Sarah, I’ll fucking go.”

He growled, jerking his plate closer to him as he began munching on the chicken tenders that sat in front of him.

—

Rafe was dreading this date, he didn’t know you or what you were even like and let’s be honest, he hasn’t dated in literal years, hasn’t even given it a thought. After Molly departed from him, he ate, slept, and breathed life in the hospital, too afraid to be in his home alone – too afraid the silence and lack of love would swallow him home; death by a thousand cuts. He felt like that was probably normal for the situation he had found himself in; divorce in the form of death. He stared at himself in the mirror of the locker room, being sure he was ready as his hand tousled through his unruly hair.

“Sarah’s right – I do look like shit.”

He muttered, suddenly wondering what this unknown woman would think of him.

He made his way down the linoleum lined hallway and out of the hospital door a few moments later, the familiar red shine of ambulance lights just out of his peripheral and the screech of the alarm coming from the rig coming to a stop. He watched carefully as they pulled a young woman from the back, her limbs splinted and blood covering her. He wasn't sure what it was; fate or an uneasy stomach, these days he hardly had the capacity to tell the difference. But, whatever the force behind it, she pulled him toward her and as he got close, the date he had planned for suddenly slipped his mind.

—

Everything hurt – that was the first thing your brain registered as you pulled your eyes open, the sound of a siren and the beat of your heart blaring simultaneously in your ears. The siren was close, you could tell, but you seemed so distant from it at the same time, so far away and fleeting. You closed your eyes, the darkness overcoming you. It only felt like they had been closed for five seconds, but you were sure it had been longer as you heard the sound of a man’s voice and felt wind around you, signaling your brain that you were moving by the sound of rickety wheels beneath you. The man sounded handsome and kind, his voice deep as it bellowed in the air around you.

“What do we got?”

He asked with urgency, looking pointedly at the paramedics, a team of doctors surrounding him.

“25 year old female, car accident. She went through the windshield – crush injuries, concussion, internal bleeding – she’s barely hanging on.”

He gingerly nodded at the words of the paramedic and brought a pen light from his pocket, pulling your eyelids back and shining it into them. A groan escaped your lips at the intrusion.

“Sweetheart, can you hear me?”

His voice penetrated your ears and for some reason unbeknownst to you, your brain pulled your eyes open, fighting to get to whoever the voice belonged. As you took in the blue eyes that stood over you, you registered who the voice belonged to – sounds and words you could barely register coming from his mouth again.

“I’m Dr. Rafe Cameron, I’m gonna take care of you, okay?”

He spoke, sliding his hand in yours, giving you a kind smile.

“Can you squeeze my hand, for me?”

Your senses weren’t intact, numbness infiltrated your being but you could feel his calloused hand as it slipped into yours and with all the energy that remained in your body, you squeezed his hand weakly. He smiled – bright and breathtakingly beautiful, teeth so perfectly in line that you were sure he had orthodontic work at some point. You noticed the crinkles by his eyes as his lips parted and his lips turned up. You suddenly regretted not shaving your legs this morning, taking in his handsomely sculpted jaw as he turned his head sideways, stretching his hands across you. You were unsure what was happening until you felt him unhooking the straps that you now realized were draped across your body, securing you to the bed you laid on.

“Move her on three – one, two, three.”

He chanted out, voice bellowing as his words controlled the move of every person in the room. You weren’t sure what kind of doctor Rafe was, but you knew he was important, that he was a leader, as every nurse and bystander operated under his sole instruction. You closed your eyes as the hands of the people around you lifted you from one bed to another, the jostling of your body breaking through the heavy cloud of numbness and what started as a whimper but quickly turned into a full-fledged bloody murder scream escaped your lips.

“Easy, sweetheart. I know it hurts.”

His hands made their way to your hair, pushing the blood-stained strands away from your forehead. His touch was gentle and calming, you had never been touched by a doctor like this, you thought to yourself.

“R-Rafe?”

You croaked out, eyes pleading.

“Hmm?”

He questioned with all his attention on you. His blue eyes raked over your form, studying your face, taking in the distress and the pain that laced it.

“Gonna die?”

You questioned, mumbling, incoherently and before he could even respond your eyes rolled into the back of your head, your back arching off the bed as you your body shook into a fit of convulsions.

“She’s crashing!”

One of the nurses yelled out.

“We’ve got to get her to the OR now, get me a neuro consult and page Dr. Richardson, I have no doubt in my mind she’s hemorrhaging.”

As soon as he muttered out the words, Rafe was straddling you on the gurney, legs on either side of your hips as his palms laid flat against your chest, fingers interlocking with each other as he violently, urgently pressed up and down in an attempt to restart your heart.

“Not today, sweet girl. Not today.”

He whispered, continuing chest compressions as the nurses and doctors wheeled the gurney the two of you were on into the operating room.

—

masterlist:

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