#medical injury law firm

[medicalinjury]

In Australia, the publicity surrounding medical negligence cases is influenced by various factors. While some cases receive significant public attention, others remain private or less known. The level of publicity often hinges on factors such as the nature of the case, the parties involved, and the scope of litigation.

[timmurleyart]

You want the money? 📞💲💵💎💰💶💷

[millarlawfirm]

If you’ve been injured in a car accident, you may be able to seek compensation for your medical expenses and other damages. Here are some of the medical costs you can claim in a Georgia personal injury case.

[personalinjurylawyerla]

Are You Suffering from Passenger Trauma After an Uber Accident?

When we think of Uber accidents, physical injuries like broken bones and bruises often come to mind. However, another type of injury, equally devastating, tends to fly under the radar: psychological trauma. This invisible injury can affect passengers long after the accident, altering their lives in profound ways. If you've experienced an Uber accident and are struggling with trauma, reaching out to an Uber accident lawyer in Los Angeles can be an essential step in your recovery.

Understanding Passenger Trauma

Psychological trauma after an Uber accident can manifest in various forms. Passengers may experience anxiety, depression, or even Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD). These conditions can significantly disrupt daily life, making it hard to return to normal activities.

An Uber accident lawyer in Los Angeles understands these challenges. They can help you navigate the complexities of your case, ensuring that psychological injuries are acknowledged and compensated.

The Signs of Psychological Trauma

Recognizing the signs of psychological trauma is the first step towards healing. Symptoms might include:

Nightmares or flashbacks about the accident

Severe anxiety or panic attacks

Avoidance of driving or riding in cars

Mood swings or irritability

Difficulty concentrating

If you notice any of these symptoms, it's important to seek help immediately. An Uber accident lawyer in Los Angeles can guide you to appropriate medical and psychological resources.

Why Psychological Trauma Is Often Overlooked?

Physical injuries are visible and easier to document, making them more straightforward in legal claims. Psychological trauma, on the other hand, is often unseen and can be subjective. Many passengers might feel ashamed or reluctant to talk about their mental health issues, fearing they won't be taken seriously.

However, an experienced Uber accident lawyer in Los Angeles knows how significant these invisible injuries are. They can work with medical professionals to provide the necessary evidence to support your claim.

Steps to Take if You’re Experiencing Psychological Trauma

Seek Professional Help: Consulting a mental health professional is crucial. They can diagnose and treat conditions like PTSD, anxiety, or depression.

Document Your Experience: Keep a journal detailing your symptoms, treatment, and how the trauma affects your daily life. This documentation can be invaluable for your Uber accident lawyer in Los Angeles.

Consult an Uber Accident Lawyer: A skilled lawyer can help you understand your rights and build a strong case. They can ensure that your psychological injuries are considered when seeking compensation.

How an Uber Accident Lawyer in Los Angeles Can Help?

An Uber accident lawyer in Los Angeles specializes in cases involving rideshare services. They understand the unique challenges these cases present, including the complexities of dealing with independent contractors and the nuances of Uber’s insurance policies.

Assessing Your Claim: The lawyer will evaluate your case, considering both physical and psychological injuries.

Gathering Evidence: They will collect medical records, psychological evaluations, and personal testimonies to build a comprehensive case.

Negotiating with Insurance Companies: Insurance companies often try to minimize payouts. An experienced lawyer will negotiate aggressively to ensure you receive fair compensation.

Representing You in Court: If necessary, your lawyer will take your case to court, presenting a compelling argument that highlights the impact of your trauma.

The Importance of Legal Support

Dealing with the aftermath of an Uber accident can be overwhelming, especially when facing psychological trauma. An Uber accident lawyer in Los Angeles provides the support and expertise needed to navigate this challenging time. They can help you secure compensation for medical bills, therapy costs, lost wages, and pain and suffering.

Real Stories, Real Impact

Consider Jane’s story. She was involved in an Uber accident that left her with minor physical injuries but severe PTSD. She couldn’t sleep, avoided cars, and struggled to return to her normal life. With the help of an Uber accident lawyer in Los Angeles, Jane was able to secure compensation for her therapy and lost wages, allowing her to focus on her recovery.

Taking the First Step

If you or someone you know is dealing with psychological trauma after an Uber accident, don’t hesitate to seek help. An Uber accident lawyer in Los Angeles can provide the guidance and support necessary to navigate your legal options and help you on the path to recovery.

Psychological trauma is a serious and often overlooked consequence of Uber accidents. By acknowledging and addressing these invisible injuries, you can take important steps towards healing and regaining control of your life. An Uber accident lawyer in Los Angeles is your ally in this journey, ensuring that you receive the compensation and support you need.

[goldandgoldlaw]

Top Construction Accident and Auto Accident Lawyer Miami

Are you looking for a construction accident and auto accident lawyer in Miami? Visit Gold & Gold, P.A., our construction accident attorneys represent accident cases in Miami. Check out our website and watch this infographic to know more.

[lawyertoronto123]

Trusted Personal Injury Law Firm for Medical Negligence

I can offer you some general guidance on how to find a trusted Personal Injury lawyer firm for medical negligence cases:

Research Online: Use search engines to look for law firms that specialize in medical negligence or personal injury cases. Look for firms with good reviews, well-designed websites, and a strong online presence.

Check Credentials: Once you've identified potential law firms, research their credentials. Look for attorneys who are experienced in medical negligence cases and are members of relevant legal associations or bar associations.

Read Reviews: Online reviews from previous clients can provide insights into the firm's reputation, communication, and success in handling similar cases.

Ask for Recommendations: Reach out to friends, family members, or colleagues who may have had experience with personal injury law firms. They might be able to recommend a trustworthy firm.

Initial Consultation: Most law firms offer free initial consultations. Use this opportunity to meet with the attorneys, discuss your case, and assess their knowledge, approach, and willingness to help.

Case Experience: Inquire about the firm's experience in handling medical negligence cases. Ask about their track record and whether they have successfully resolved cases similar to yours.

Clear Communication: Effective communication is crucial. Ensure that the attorneys are transparent about their fees, the legal process, and the potential outcomes of your case.

Resources and Staff: A reputable law firm should have the resources and support staff to properly handle your case. This includes access to medical experts who can help build a strong case.

Local Expertise: Consider working with a law firm that has experience in the jurisdiction where your case will be heard, as medical malpractice laws can vary from state to state.

Comfort Level: Trust your instincts. Choose a law firm that makes you feel comfortable, understood, and confident in their abilities to represent you.

Remember that finding the right law firm is a crucial step in seeking compensation for medical negligence. Take your time to research, compare options, and make an informed decision based on your specific needs and circumstances.

[medicalinjury]

Discussing the Associated Publicity When Opting to Pursue a Medical Negligence Case

In Australia, the publicity surrounding medical negligence cases is influenced by various factors. While some cases receive significant public attention, others remain private or less known. The level of publicity often hinges on factors such as the nature of the case, the parties involved, and the scope of litigation.

When a medical negligence case is filed in court, access to case records and hearings is subject to court regulations. Not all cases become public knowledge, as many individuals prefer to settle claims outside of court to maintain confidentiality and avoid public exposure.

Cases may attract publicity for various reasons, including their significance, impact on society, or broader implications beyond individual grievances. Instances involving widespread harm, public safety concerns, or those setting legal precedents tend to draw considerable attention, prompting public interest and discussion.

Publicity may increase if a case goes to trial, as court proceedings are generally matters of public record. Details discussed during trials can be accessible to the public, unless specific confidentiality orders are in place. Courts may use suppression orders or pseudonyms to protect identities, especially if disclosure could cause harm or distress. While some information remains inaccessible due to privacy and confidentiality provisions, media outlets may cover high-profile cases, contributing to their wider recognition.

Furthermore, certain organizations or advocacy groups may highlight specific cases to advocate for legal or systemic changes in the healthcare system. These efforts aim to address prevalent issues that may not always be widely recognized.

In summary, the extent of publicity for a medical negligence case in Australia depends on a combination of factors, including the case's nature, the parties involved, and its potential societal impact.

[qualityloveparadise]

Injury attorney san Antonio, USA 2023

An injury attorney in San Antonio, USA is a legal professional who specializes in handling cases related to personal injury. Personal injury cases can involve a variety of accidents or incidents, such as car accidents, workplace accidents, slip and fall accidents, medical malpractice, and more. The primary role of an injury attorney is to represent their clients in court and negotiate on their…

[cmzlaw]

We are dedicated to representing victims of on the job accidents occurring throughout Texas, Louisiana, and along the Gulf Coast. Working in plant or oil/gas refineries presents unique hazards. Companies who cut corners and put profits over safety will use shoddy equipment that is poorly maintained, hire unskilled or unsafe co-workers, and fail to implement basic safety policies that might help the bottom line but places the workers they depend on at serious risk. Unfortunately, it’s after a devastating injury that these unsafe practices are exposed.

Plant & Refinery Injury Attorney

[rileyslibrary]

Ghost finds out that you never learned how to ride a bike.

A/N: Thank you for suggesting this, anon. I hope your mother-in-law bought you a bomb-ass bike with a basket at the front and everything.

———————————————————————

“No way.”

“Yes.”

“Not even once?”

“What do you mean ‘not even once’?”

The conversation started when the lieutenant entered your shared office with two fingers bandaged together. Before you could ask what happened, his eyes caught yours, and he instinctively raised his hand, displaying the injury.

He explained that it happened while he and a group of soldiers were repairing one of the barracks. His pinky got caught in a plumping pipe, and because of the noise, they couldn’t hear him yelling at them to stop pushing. So the medic immobilised the fractured pinky by securing it to the ring finger to restrict its range of motion and let it heal.

He reassured you that the damage was minor and nothing to be concerned about, but he appeared defeated by having to bear this for the time being. You wished him a speedy recovery and then addressed the elephant in the room—how would he be able to carry the drill exercise scheduled for tomorrow?

He shrugged and admitted that the exercise had to be cancelled for now. Still, that wouldn’t pose a problem since military procedures are deeply ingrained and not easily forgotten.

“It’s like riding a bike.” He said.

And that’s what struck your current discussion—when you sneered at his analogy and admitted that you wouldn’t know since you never learned how to ride one.

He now stands there, speechless, and looks at you like you’re an alien that just landed on his back porch.

“Did you try and give up, or no one taught you how?”

“Do I look like I give up easily, Lt.?” You ask and shrug with your right shoulder. “No one taught me how to ride one.”

His eyes soften, and he looks out the window.

“Jesus Christ, kid.” He mutters, “Guess we found something else to do for tomorrow.”

“No way.” You state, shaking your head.

“Yes.” He replies and nods.

—————————— >> ———————————

Ghost left you a note on your desk this morning.

It said “warehouse, 10 a.m.” which was both weird and funny, considering how cryptic that message was for the purpose of the meeting.

You approach the warehouse and attempt to open the door, only to find that it’s locked. Suddenly, a sharp “pst!” grabs your attention from nearby, prompting you to follow the voice that’s guiding you behind the building.

There stands Ghost, with a worn-out bike next to him. He’s hugging a helmet with his injured hand and holding pairs of knee, elbow, and wrist pads with the other.

“Where did you find that?” You ask, pointing to the bike.

“In this warehouse; I found it a couple of years ago,” he replies. “I didn’t want to throw it away, so I fixed it and left it there.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You call this ‘fixed’?”

“It may not be a fucking Bianchi, kid, but it gets the job done,” he says and extends the gear towards you. “Put these on,” he orders, “I’ll help you with the knee pads.”

He kneels down, gently tapping your leg, indicating you to lift it.

“Isn’t that a little excessive?” You ask, “All that safety gear?”

He huffs and looks up at you. “Do you want to end up with a fractured pinky like me?”

“No, sir.”

“Lift your leg then.”

He adjusts your helmet and secures the knee pads, ensuring they’re correctly positioned. Then, he inspects the elbow and wrist pads to ensure they’re in the right place. Finally, he gives the saddle a firm slap, indicating you to hop on the bike.

You do as instructed, and he checks the bike, adjusting the seat height, handlebars, and brakes to fit your size. With you gripping the handlebars, he begins the lesson.

“Two things,” he says, raising the corresponding fingers on his uninjured hand. “Balance and coordination.”

“Balance and coordination.” You echo.

He nods, puts his hands behind his back, and paces around the bike.

“We’ll begin with the first one, which happens to be the most challenging, I must warn you,” he explains, “and then progress to the rest.”

“Balance is the hardest one.” You repeat.

“Yes, indeed. First, you’ll have to learn how to balance on that bike. Once you succeed, we’ll synchronise your turning, pedalling, and braking movements. Ready?”

“Not really.”

“Let’s get started then.”

—————————— >> ———————————

He’s right. Balancing that thing is difficult. At first, he instructs you to use your feet to push yourself forward while seated on the bike, gradually progressing to longer strides.

Then he commands you to pedal. He walks next to you, holding one of the handlebars with his uninjured hand and guiding the bike to help with balance. Occasionally, when he feels you have control, he lets go of the handlebar. But every now and then, you waver. And when that happens, he intervenes and puts his hand back on the handlebar.

And this continued until he felt confident that you were ready to give it your first try.

“What if I fall?”

“You will fall.”

“But I don’t want to.”

“You have to,” he insists, “that’s the only way you’ll learn.”

He stands behind you, holding the back of the saddle. He maintains his grip as you pedal, stabilising and guiding the bike. He jogs beside you, encouraging you.

And yes, there were countless falls. But each time, Ghost was there, lifting you up, brushing off the dirt, and urging you to give it another try.

The lesson began at 10 a.m. You have no idea what time it is now. Ghost has been so persistent that he must have also lost track of time.

“Lt,” you call out as you pedal for the hundredth time, “I think it’s time for a break; you must be tired as well.”

No response.

“Lt.?” You repeat.

Silence.

You turn halfway to address him, but he’s nowhere to be found.

Panic sets in, throwing off your balance, and you tumble to the ground once again. This time, he’s no longer there to catch you.

You look back at your starting point—Ghost is standing there with his arms crossed in front of his chest.

You look at the bike and then back at him. Your eyes widen. You point your finger at the bike, then at yourself.

He nods and lifts his hand in the air, giving a thumbs up.

“I did it!” You shout and run towards him, guiding the bike next to you.

“I saw,” he replies, and his eyes crease in joy, “but why didn’t you ride it back?”

“I think I need more practice.” You explain.

“We can continue practising after our break,” he suggests. “Good job, kid; I’m proud of you.”

“It’s all because of you, Lieutenant,” you say, “thank you for everything.”

He chuckles and tilts his head.

“Look,” he says, lifting his injured pinky. “This one needs support from this one to heal,” he explains, pointing to his ring finger.

“So I’m the pinky,” you say, “because you, the ring finger, taught me how to ride a bike.”

He lets out a sigh, shifting his gaze to the ground.

“Depends on who you ask,” he murmurs, “maybe I’m the broken one, and you’re helping me heal.”

———————————————————————

[millarlawfirm]

FAQ: Who covers my medical bills after a Georgia car accident? The injury attorneys at The Millar Law Firm explain in our recent Legal Guide ⚖️

[thedovesaredying]

Monsters in the Dark | Nikto x Reader | Cowboy AU

Prologue

Introduction to my fic set within the cowboy AU created by @ghouljams for our dear boy Nikto. This is just a quick starter piece to set the scene for the fic so to say. Also decided to include Sputnik since I don't see many fics including the precious baby!

A/N: Obligatory note that I do not condone the owning of dangerous or wild exotic animals as pets regardless of a country or state's laws. Exotic animals require a large amount of knowledge in their husbandry and specific requirements to ensure the highest standard of welfare is maintained. They should never be treated like domestic animals, they do not make good pets.

Warnings: Discussion of Serious Injury, Limb Amputation.

Masterlist: CoD Masterlist

Next Part

Nikto had been waiting for death to greet him throughout the entirety of his career. It was simply an inevitable fact of life both in the military and working as a mercenary for hire. People died constantly at his sides, and it quickly became a question of “when” and not “if” the final string would be cut and his body would fail him for the last time. 

There were days when he almost wished for the reaper to claim whatever remained of his empty heart. Torture was tolerable, an old friend at this point, but the months and years of recovery afterwards were what really felt like suffering.  

Alive, and yet completely useless. A fractured mind trapped within an equally ruined body.  

The only thing he could look forward to was getting back to work once his body was finally strong enough to pass medical approval. Tedious as the waiting game could be, he wasn’t stupid enough to push himself beyond his limits like some honour-hungry rookie. No, he waited and saved his strength for when it would one day be needed, for the days when nothing but sheer willpower can save his pitiful soul.  

And yet despite his many brushes with death, he had still yet to be taken by it, even when by all rights he should have been. Death yet remained a stranger.  

But why? Was his mind too corrupt and darkened for even the devil to want to touch? He had never believed in any God, but surely there was one looking down on him and mocking his pathetic existence. How else could he have survived an injury that should have killed him?  

He could remember little of the mission, only the sounds of people shouting orders, the potent scent of smoke and chemicals in the air, and pain. Certainly not the worst pain he’d experienced in his life, a blade to the gut still had the honour of that, but close to it. He was fortunate that the concussion he’d received had left him drifting in and out of unconsciousness for most of the trip back to base.  

His arm was fucked. According to the doctor and the reports from various other operators present on the mission, his elbow was bent in a way it definitely shouldn’t have been, and there was enough shrapnel in the remaining flesh that he might as well have lopped the whole thing off entirely.  

Which is exactly what the doctors ended up doing.  

It was their last resort, but with the complete lack of feeling in the limb coupled with an infection that just couldn’t be stamped out no matter how many antibiotics they pumped into his IV, it was necessary. They tried as hard as possible to save it, but necrosis had set in, and the safest course of action was to remove all damaged and dead tissue.  

He still wasn’t sure what would have been worse, being taken out by sepsis, or dealing with his current existence.  

And what a miserable existence it is.  

KorTac wanted to keep him on – surely, they couldn’t just let a wild beast like him roam free without a firm hand on his leash – but there was very little they could offer for him. Stay with the PMC and become a glorified guard dog? Train bratty little recruits? Sit behind a desk pushing papers nine to five? No, that would destroy what little grasp he still had on his sanity.  

That was how he ended up standing on the rundown porch of a house that could be described in a single word as dilapidated. It was cheap but came with enough land for him to not need to worry about nosy neighbours. He’s so far lacked the motivation to do anything to try and restore the building, but it has four walls and a roof, which is more than can be said for some of the “safe” houses he’s utilised over the years.  

He’d been lucky to discover the place at all with how small the town is. A passing comment from a fellow soldier about the region had caught his attention and, considering the impossibility of returning to Russia, he’d decided to look into it. America was a massive continent, and in the US he wouldn’t be questioned for owning weapons. Even better? This particular state allowed him to continue to keep Sputnik without suspicion.  

The old man who had been selling the house had been sympathetic after he’d played the whole “injured veteran” card and had even offered him a reduced price for the property. It still sickens him to think about how weak he must have looked in that moment, but needs must, and what he needed was a place to call home, even if only for a little while.  

One terrible accident and he’s reduced to begging for help like a stray dog wanting scraps.  

His irritation has the hand of his prosthetic curling gently into the fur of Sputnik’s pelt. All it can do is open and close around things to allow him some form of grip, but it works, and he supposes that’s all that matters. His girl doesn’t seem to care that it’s not a flesh and blood hand petting her, leaning into him regardless.  

She’s the centre of his current predicament and the reason he’s been forced to reach out for help. No amount of puppy dog eyes and wide grins sent his way are enough to save her from a trip to the vet. Or rather, a visit from one.  

He waits patiently as a large car rolls down the gravel road that leads to the small house from the property’s front gate. Sputnik whines as it draws closer, before beginning to laugh with nervous excitement. The moment the vehicle pulls to a stop she moves to investigate, but is quickly stopped with a barked, “МЕСТО!” command from Nikto.  

Sputnik huffs, unimpressed with not being allowed to greet their visitor, but settles for sitting at the top of the stairs while her master approaches.  

In all honesty, Nikto had been expecting a grizzled old man or woman with decades of experience under the belt when the receptionist had promised to send someone with knowledge of exotics. What he wasn’t expecting was... you.  

[sam-is-my-safe-word]

(K)not for Sale

Dean Winchester (Supernatural) x Soldier Boy (The Boys) Rating: Explicit Tags: Alternate Universe, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Verse,  Rape/Non-con Elements, Dubious Consent, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Smut, Shameless Smut, Alpha Dean Winchester, Omega Soldier Boy (The Boys), Top Dean Winchester, Bottom Soldier Boy (The Boys), Canon-Typical Violence, Blood and Injury, Anal Sex, Knotting, Orgasm, Multiple Orgasm, Aftercare

Word Count: 4,245

Summary: Every six months, Soldier Boy goes into heat. Vought can't afford to let him go without a knot and end up sick - again - so they bring in a compatible alpha to see him through. Whether Soldier Boy or the alpha want it or not.

Notes: PSA time - heed the tags. Non-con/dub-con for a/b/o dynamics. Y'all know the score I'm participating in @jacklesversebingo and this part will fill my "bend over, I'm not kidding" square.

~~~

Every six months, Dean gets the call. He can pin-point the exact day it will come, even though most omega’s cycles aren’t that accurate. After a decade of calls, his own body starts to respond in the days before it arrives. 

He hates it. 

But you don’t argue with Vought, and when they’d tracked him down, a newly matured alpha at just twenty-two, offers to see Sammy through Stanford and into an excellent law firm had been enough to convince him to sell his knot twice a year. 

And when Sam had graduated and was safely in employment with said excellent law firm, Vought's assurances that Sam could disappear with just a word had kept him compliant. 

Sam knew. He figured it out when the college offers came in with no mentions of scholarships. He’d been furious, but turning down the place wouldn’t have got Dean out of the contract he’d signed. 

And now, ten years down the line, it’s just another fact of life. Death, taxes, and calls from Vought. 

He hates that his body is tied to someone else's like this, a sick parody of a mated couple going into heat and rut together. Hates the exhausting drive, hates NYC, hates Vought Tower and everything that goes on in there. 

But the time spent in a secured room with Soldier Boy… he loves that. 

~~~

The same Vought lackey walks him down the same corridor every time. The jumpsuit they gave him itches, some kind of fancy-pants body armour that looks and feels like normal clothes but will protect him from Soldier Boy ripping his limbs off or something. He didn’t really pay attention when they first brought out the duds. 

The lackey pauses outside the usual door. The way Dean’s body is responding, you’d think the corridor is drenched in the scent of omega-in-heat. But it smells of nothing. This is pure pavlovian. 

The guy is reading from a clipboard. He was just a kid when he started leading Dean down this corridor. They’ve grown up together. Dean wonders if he hates this as much as Dean does. 

“Right, so remember to keep the suit on at all times. Don’t let him have access to any area you want to protect.” 

Dean clears his throat and when the man looks up, he gives his crotch a long, pointed look. 

“Any area I’d want to protect? Like my cock, you mean?” 

That gets him a half-smile. 

“Oh, no, he wants that part of you. Just anything else you want to keep. Arms, legs, guts on the inside, y’know.” 

Dean wills his stare to incinerate the other man, but he didn’t get the Supe gene and the man just shrugs, the ‘your choice’ as plain as day. 

“Okay, see you in twelve hours. Have fun.” 

Dean rolls his eyes. 

The door opens, not revealing the sparse room Dean knows is beyond, but an ante-chamber of sorts. It’s decorated in the same bland, beige colours as the corridor. Dean thinks it should be all white and medical sterile. It serves a similar purpose as a decontamination chamber, except it’s one way. Keep what’s on the inside, inside. 

No scent gets out, no sounds, certainly not a semi-feral Soldier Boy. 

The door behind him shuts and Dean feels the vibration as deadbolts the size of his forearm lock into place. The inner door won’t open until he presses the large green button on the wall. But once he does, it’s twelve hours with no escape.

He takes a deep breath. It’s not difficult after so long, but there is still a headspace he needs to get into before he enters the room. 

Dean needs his omegas willing as a bare minimum. If he has a choice past that, he likes them to be small, frisky blonde women that give as good as they get and leave him walking funny the next day. Or guys bigger than him that bend over beautifully and call him daddy. And he doesn’t treat his partners meanly. Doesn’t call them names and say cruel things. 

But this, here. This isn’t sex. He isn’t wanted here. He doesn’t want to be here. This is a battle. He has to be faster, smarter, and trickier than his opponent. Otherwise he’ll end up dead. And what happens to Sammy if Dean isn’t here to sell his soul knot? 

In the early days, Dean tried to be understanding. He tried to treat Soldier Boy with the same kindness he’d treat any other omega in his bed. It earned him two broken arms and a shattered orbital socket. 

He didn’t attempt kindness again. 

Feeling like an overgrown baby in a onesie, he pops open the split in the crotch of his jumpsuit. The panels of fabric that now hang loose get attached to the legs by more button popper things. 

He’s gone from overgrown baby to assless chaps - almost. But it gets the important bits accessible without compromising any of the squishy bits he wants to keep in his stomach, thanks. The fact that his cock is a sometimes squishy part that he really wants to keep seems to go over Vought’s head. 

He’s already hard, pre-cum running down the length to soak the skin and trimmed hair at the base. He jacks himself a few times then rubs his hands together to get the scent on them. Soldier Boy will respond a little better if Dean smells excessively alpha. 

Another deep breath. Just twelve hours and he can go back to his hotel, take a blisteringly hot shower and drive home. Go back to his life for five months and three-point-five weeks. 

He presses the button on the wall. 

~~~

The room where Soldier Boy is waiting is a cold white colour. Dean has wondered more than once if Vought just repaints it instead of trying to clean the blood off the walls as needed. 

There’s no furniture, just a mattress against one wall. Dean knows that it gets tossed out after one use. 

It’s not a very large room. Probably for safety. If Soldier Boy got up some momentum, he could probably bust through a wall or something. Best to give him less space. 

The space is absolutely saturated with the scent of heat pheromones and slick. It overpowers the scent of Soldier Boy’s fury. Dean can’t even smell himself over it. He hopes Soldier Boy can, otherwise this is going to be a nasty fight before the omega submits. 

As always, Soldier Boy is facing away from the door, completely naked and staring at a blank wall. Dean can see the camera in the corner, knows Soldier Boy is completely in frame, but he’s never worked out if Soldier Boy is watching the lens or just staring at the wall. The muscles in his broad back twitch randomly, and every so often a shiver makes its way down his spine and the smell of slick gets even stronger for a few seconds. 

“You gonna play nice this time, Omega?” 

“Fuck you.” 

This call and response has been happening since Dean got a new metal bone in his face and hardened his heart to everything that goes on in this room. 

“We both know that isn’t how this is gonna go down.” 

Soldier Boy’s shoulders are shaking now, a sign of his anger. 

“Fuck. You.” 

Dean cracks his neck. He always hopes Soldier Boy will just submit and make it easier on both of them. But he always prepares for the fight. 

“C’mon, the quicker you show me that ass, the quicker this will all be over and you can get back to burning down orphanages or whatever the hell you Supes do.” 

That gets Soldier Boy to turn, to try and stare Dean down, even though they’re the same height. 

Dean takes the opportunity to look Soldier Boy over, starting at his feet and moving upwards. Tense legs, trembling thighs - slick coating the inner skin. The usual. Diamond-hard cock, flushed deep red, drooling pre-cum that Dean longs to lap up. Also usual. He’s flushed red from his chest to his temples, a mixture of the heat and his anger. His bangs are plastered to his forehead with sweat. Three for three, full steam ahead, captain. 

Dean has seen Soldier Boy in action on the TV, in the green suit and gold shield. In front of a camera, he always looks perfectly put together, hair shiny and styled into soft waves, bangs that hang artfully over his forehead. It’s a far cry from the panting, sweating omega that stands before him now. 

Soldier Boy takes a step forwards. Dean crouches just a little, gets ready. 

“Leave. You’re not fuckin’ needed here.” 

“Aww, c’mon, Omega. You'll hurt my feelings. We both know you’re desperate to bend over for an alpha.” 

Another step, but Soldier Boy doesn’t stop at one. He keeps walking until he’s nose to nose with Dean. 

“Never.” 

His lip curls in disgust, but Dean can smell the fresh wave of slick. 

“Always. Always, little Omega. You can shout all you want, but you always end up begging in the end.” 

Dean leans in, pressing their foreheads together. 

“Bend over, I’m not kidding.”

Soldier Boy crashes into him like a linebacker. It’s more luck than any kind of planning or judgement that they land on the mattress and not the floor. Even heat-weak and from a standing start, he still feels like a Mack truck smashing into Dean. 

Soldier Boy winds up straddling Dean, both trying to grip the other's wrists. The constant shifting rubs their cocks together perfectly and Dean stills with a hiss. Soldier Boy freezes, face screwed up to hold back his moan. 

He recovers a fraction quicker than Dean and manages to get Dean’s wrists in one hand. He raises his other arm, fist clenched. Dean might be about to get another metal bone in his face. For just a second, he wonders if Vought will pay to replace his whole skull or just leave him to die and find a new alpha. 

He thrusts his hips up sharply, causing Soldier Boy to freeze again. Pulling up his knees, he thrusts again, throwing Soldier Boy off balance, pitching him off Dean’s hips. 

Dean scrambles to get off his back, get his knees under him, get the higher ground. 

Soldier Boy tries to turn onto his back, get his legs up to kick Dean away. But Dean’s alpha pheromones are draining the fight from him now. His omega is taking over, making him pliant. 

Dean shoves him face down with both hands on a shoulder. Even completely flat on his stomach, Soldier Boy’s ass looks incredible. Dean can’t wait to see him present properly. 

For now, though, he lays himself over Soldier Boy, chest to back. His cock slots perfectly in between Soldier Boy’s ass cheeks and is coated in slick within seconds. He can’t help rocking his hips, just to feel the glide. The body under him shudders violently. 

“That’s it. You’ve had your little bitch fit, but this is where you want to be, isn’t it.” 

Soldier Boy tries to rise on his elbows, but with Dean skin to skin, he’s unable to fight his omega anymore. Dean’s own alpha is snarling to fuck and claim. Dean rubs his neck against the sweaty skin of Soldier Boy’s shoulder, smearing his pheromones as close to Soldier Boy’s nose as he can get them. Soldier Boy’s arms shake and he faceplants on the mattress again. Dean catches a whisper that could be ‘Alpha’. 

“Yeah, say my name.” 

Dean doesn’t think Soldier Boy even knows his first name, but Alpha is close enough. 

“I don’t know why you fight every time. You could just bend this ass over and we’d have a good time.” 

Dean drives his point home with another thrust, drawing a bitten-off moan from the Supe under him. 

“Fuck you.” 

It’s mumbled into the mattress, but Dean can still hear the lack of bite in the words. 

“You know you don’t really want that, Omega. This sweet ass is just begging for my cock, begging to be knotted.” 

The base of Dean’s cock is starting to ache in the best way. He’s past ready to fuck and knot the omega in front of him. 

“You gonna present for me like a good omega or are you gonna get fucked on your belly like a bitch?” 

Dean doesn’t even see Soldier Boy move, but the back of his skull smashes into Dean’s face, breaking his nose and spraying blood everywhere. 

“Not. A. Fucking. Bitch.”

The words are spat from behind gritted teeth, but they just don’t have the rage anymore. It’s a token effort, one last act of defiance. Dean is still going to need to see a doctor to get his nose reset… again. He’s still blinking away tears. He can still feel the bruising that’s going to come up around his eyes. He’s still dripping blood into his mouth and into Soldier Boy’s hair. He’s still furious. 

“Fuck! Fucking asshole.” 

It takes some effort and shuffling to get up on his knees, but he manages to pull both of Soldier Boy’s arms behind his back and cross his wrists so Dean can hold them in one hand. It helps that Soldier Boy has gone mostly limp and compliant now. 

“Get on your fucking knees.” 

He uses his free hand to push on Soldier Boy’s ass. 

“Up! On your knees. Fucking present, Omega.” 

Soldier Boy shifts, pulling his knees up under him. 

“Look at you, all bent over like a good bitch.” 

Dean hisses the last word, lets his fury colour it. Soldier Boy twists in the grip Dean has on his hands, but it’s weak. Dean can hold him.

“Ah ah ah, you’re gonna stay where I put you, Omega.” 

Dean reaches down to stroke his cock, getting ready to line himself up. He can’t smell himself over Soldier Boy’s pheromones and the scent of slick, but the omega must be able to smell him, or at least the scent of fresh pre-cum, and shivers, trying to suppress a whine. 

“You be as loud as you want, I wanna hear you beg for my knot.” 

Dean lines up and pushes in. It’s tight and wet and hot and perfect. He doesn’t stop until he’s as deep as he can go, thighs pressed tight to Soldier Boy’s ass. Soldier Boy who is now shaking from head to toe and still trying to hold back his moans. 

But Dean doesn’t have to hold back anything. He can groan and curse as much as he wants. 

“Fuck. So tight, Omega, so good.” 

He forces himself to hold still, to not pull out and slam back inside, to make Soldier Boy squirm and beg. And squirm Soldier Boy does, hips undulating back and forth in an effort to make Dean move. It’s tempting, so very tempting. But Dean’s pissed about his nose and he’s going to hear the omega beg. 

Soldier Boy holds out for more than a minute, a whine building in his throat. Dean wants to put his hands there, just to feel the vibration. But just like Dean knew he would, Soldier Boy breaks. 

“Please.” 

His jaw is clenched so tight, the word is almost garbled beyond recognition, but Dean knows what it means. 

“That’s it. Beg for it.” 

Dean rewards Soldier Boy by pulling out and thrusting deep again. 

“Alpha!”

“Yeah. This what you need? An alpha to put you in your place? Big powerful Supe, huh. Out there. This is what you need, though, isn’t it. Need to be bent over like a fucking bitch.” 

“Fuck you, you worthless kn- don’t stop.” 

“Not gonna stop. Not 'til you’re hanging off my knot. If they could see you now. So fucking full of yourself in public, begging on your knees in here.” 

“Alpha. Please. Gonna, gon-” 

Soldier Boy freezes and then goes lax, the scent of omega cum filling Dean’s nose, even over the blood.

“Fuck. Get so damn tight cumming on my cock. You like this, huh? All that strength, those special Supe powers. But you’re on your knees for me, a random alpha you don’t even know. Better hope there isn’t some new intern manning the camera room today, recording the feed so he can jerk off to it every night.” 

Soldier Boy goes tense. 

“Ohhh, that scares you, doesn't it? I bet whoever's watching is tugging themselves raw at the sight of you. Face down, ass up. Begging for my knot while you cum all over yourself again and again.” 

“You wish- Oh, god. Bet I’m the only one that’ll - fuck - have your knot and that’s by force, motherfu-uck-” 

Another orgasm grips the omega and by extension Dean. 

“You keep cumming on it, though, can’t hate it that much. You better hope this doesn’t get out, don’t want the world to see you begging to be bred.” 

The mention of breeding makes Dean’s knot start to swell and makes Soldier Boy groan. 

“Please. Alpha… please.” 

Dean’s an inch from cumming, so close he can taste it. 

“Can you even breed? Ten years I’ve been filling up your cunt, I’ve never got a ‘congratulations, daddy’ call.”

The omega whimpers. 

“Do they keep you dosed? Or did they have you spayed?” 

A twitch tells him it’s the latter. Something about the knowledge that one of the most powerful men in the world can be rendered societally worthless while Dean is whole sends fire up his spine.

“Makes sense. Can’t have you ruining the Supe genes any further, can they.” 

Right there, right fucking there. His lip curls with malice. 

“But damn, a disgrace to Supes by being an omega and a disgrace to omegas by being barren. Wouldn’t want your life. But hey, at least you get my knot to look forward to.” 

Soldier Boy tenses up on another orgasm, a sob breaking out at the same time, and Dean follows him over the edge. His knot swells fully and ties them, cock pumping gush after gush of cum deep inside the omega. 

As the initial high of his orgasm wears off, Dean guides them down to the mattress - away from the wet patches of slick and cum - and arranges the limp omega on his side, with Dean pressed against his back. 

They’ll be tied for a little while yet, so Dean closes his eyes, tries to fight off the nausea welling up at what he just said. Soldier Boy brings out cruelty he didn’t know he had. 

Deep, even breaths from the man almost - but not quite - in his arms. Soldier Boy will sleep until his heat flares again. At least Dean doesn’t have to look him in the eye. 

He busies himself running his hand over as much bare skin as he can. From the way Soldier Boy melts at Dean’s touch, Dean doesn’t have to be a genius to work out that he’s touch-starved beyond belief. It's part of why Vought brings him in at all. Dean can’t imagine anyone but him getting close enough to touch Soldier Boy, much less try to comfort him. So he tries to give everything he can in these quiet times between knottings and then leaving. Hopefully his touch lingers for a little while and brings some peace to the man. 

Dean wasn't joking when he said he hates everything about this place and everything that goes on in here, but he doesn’t hate the time locked in this room. Not just for the sex, but so he can have these quiet moments and delude himself that he makes a difference in Soldier Boy’s life, a tiny little difference. That he does some good instead of just bringing the man low with cruel words and a knot he never asked for. 

He knots Soldier Boy a few more times, but it’s little more than fucking a fleshlight. The first time is explosive and violent. After that, omegas just need the sensation of a knot and fresh alpha cum to soothe the heat. 

Or so Dean assumes. Soldier Boy is the only omega he’s ever seen through a heat and it’s been this way from the start. The only thing he knows for sure about omega heats is that without an alpha to knot them, they get sick. If they go long enough, they get really sick. The first time Dean was brought to Soldier Boy was proof of that; already unconscious when Dean was shoved into the room, it was the closest this thing had ever felt to true rape. But Dean had no choice, the scent of the half-dead omega had made his alpha feral. He was as much in control of his body as Soldier Boy at that point.

Past that, he’s flying blind. 

He knows Sam is working with some research group to get funding and approval to try and formulate synthetic alpha cum so omegas won’t need to rely on alphas anymore. Maybe one day, the calls will stop and Dean and his cruel words will be forgotten entirely. 

Eventually Soldier Boy cools to a normal temperature and his breathing shifts to real sleep instead of semi-consciousness. Dean’s knot shrinks for the last time and he can pull out. He could leave now, pace around like a caged animal until the door unlocks. 

But he doesn’t. He stays pressed to Soldier Boy’s back, running his hand along now-clammy skin, trying to leave a memory of his touch there. He tries to ignore that he’s smearing the drops of his own blood along the way.  

As much as this whole situation - Soldier Boy himself, even - brings out the worst in Dean, when it’s over, it brings out the protective side of him. Maybe it's part of being an alpha seeing an omega through heat, or maybe it’s just a part of Dean himself. The man never asked to be born an omega, never asked to be born a Supe, and never had a choice about his life. Dean can relate. 

The hiss of the ante-chamber door makes Dean startle. Time to go. 

He pulls away from Soldier Boy, who curls into himself a little as the air replaces Dean’s body heat. Keeping his hand on the man’s arms as long as possible, Dean gets to his knees. 

“Stay safe out there, Ben. See you next time.” 

He doesn’t look back, just lets the ante-chamber door close behind him while he redoes the poppers on the stupid crotch flap of the jump suit. Whoever watches the cameras has seen enough of his dick and he’s not going to walk back to the ‘dressing room’ where his clothes are with everything hanging out. 

Being suddenly cut off from Soldier Boy’s scent leaves him reeling. He can still smell the slick on the fabric over his thighs, but mostly he can just smell his cum, his sweat, and the blood now dried on his face. He wrinkles his nose at the way he stinks and his whole face throbs with pain. Vought better get him a doctor before he leaves. They owe him. 

The same lackey is waiting in the corridor. They don’t speak on the way back. 

~~~ 

“-even breed? Ten years I’ve been filling up your cunt-” 

Ben is still locked in the fuck-room, as he’s nicknamed it. 

Vought won’t let him out until he’s been out of heat for a full one hundred and twenty hours. The fact that his heat breaks and finishes before they even let the alpha leave never seems to get through to them. Idiots. 

They give him food, water, and access to the camera feed. That’s it. Like he’s a fucking prisoner. 

So he watches the camera feed, again and again. 

It disgusts him. 

Seeing himself on the screen, bent over and begging, makes him want to hurl. He fights so hard - against his biology, his desires, his own omega. And this fucking nobody alpha gets picked off the street by Vought and cuts through it all. Strips him of everything that’s Soldier Boy, even everything that’s Ben, and leaves him a panting, needy mess, nothing but instinct and omega. 

The alpha meets Ben’s fury with his own cruelty, though, and it’s exactly what Ben needs. He fights and he’s overpowered. He can just about accept that; he can give in to his omega knowing the alpha earned him. 

He stops the tape as the alpha moves to lay him down after the first knotting. He can’t watch this part. He’d have to hunt the alpha down and murder him, and then Vought would have to find a new alpha and they wouldn’t be anywhere near as good. 

He pulls up his email. The message won’t be sent until his laptop is allowed back online but that’s okay. It’ll get there. 

‘Winchester, 

Regarding your attendance at our bi-annual meeting. Your performance was somewhat lacking, as always. I expect to see improvement by our next meeting. 

Much obliged for your continued collaboration.’ 

~~~

A few days later, when Dean is back on his side of the country and elbow deep in Baby’s engine, getting her spic and span after two cross country treks, his phone beeps. 

He wipes his hands on a rag and pulls out his phone. A smirk lifts the corner of his mouth. 

A thank you from Soldier Boy is almost double-speak, but Dean can decode. 

It’s nice to be appreciated.

[goldandgoldlaw]

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[carriesthewind]

i know very little about law, but im gonna be honest, i feel a bit bad for the loduca guy. is it a good look to sign a coworkers work without looking? absolutely not, they are paid to be anal about this stuff. but it feels like such a human thing to do, if you worked with someone for 25+ years, and never had a significant reason to doubt their work, to just kind of visually skim over the thing, and then sign and stample, bc you trust the guy.

and yeah maybe you saw he was having some issues with this case, the opposite side/judge asking for some documents they cant find and therefore think are fabricated, but again, you trust your coworker, trust that they did the job and this is a mistake not on his part, and you probably have your own workload to worry about, your own cases, so you think little of it. idk, while a bit lazy (bad look) it feels like something that would happen at an office, you know?

that being said ive got a feeling those people are not going to be practicing law quite soon. more so i dont recall if the law firm was one of theirs, but i assume even if it's not, it will have a very hard time recovering from this

A bit of a long and rambling answer here on just my own thoughts on the matter, so I'm putting it below the cut!

I do feel some sympathy for him...for the first opposition brief. My sympathy vanishes once he submitted the fake "opinions" to the court.

Because I absolutely get trusting your colleague, especially if you have worked with him for so long. And as lawyers, it is a really serious thing to sign a submission to the court that you haven't at least read - but it is also very a very human thing to do. People, including lawyers, cut corners and make errors all the time.

But part of his problem isn't just that he was skimming and signing something - when you sign a submission as an attorney, you are making a very real (and legally binding - that's the point of Rule 11) promise to the court. LoDuca is still listed as Mata's counsel of record (and his only counsel of record in this case). He told the court that he was representing this dude, and he never really was.

I saw someone - I think on twitter? - say he was covering up for Schwartz practicing law without a license. Which is technically true! But it's also - come on, there is (usually) a practical, if not ethical, difference between letting some random pretend to be lawyer by signing and submitting their documents without supervision, and signing and submitting documents for a colleague in a jurisdiction they aren't admitted to without going through the steps of having him formally act as local counsel, when you know the end result would be the same if you walked through the formal steps. I want to be clear - the second thing is not okay at all, and is very much against the rules. But, I am also 100% confident he's not the only person doing it, and I can the the way that someone would feel like it was a justifiable bending, not breaking of the rules.

But even then, the problem is that as attorneys, we are (supposed to be) held to a high ethical standard. I said this in an earlier post, but when an attorney makes representations to the court, the court takes those very seriously, because we are assumed to be following those ethical standards. If I make a legal or factual representation in a courtroom, there can be immediate and real consequences for people's lives.

It's a self-licensing and a self-policing profession, and we what we do has very serious consequences both on a societal and individual level. Even in a simple case like this originally was, a personal injury negligence case brought by an individual - the complaint says the plaintiff suffered serious, disabling injuries and has been prevented from working, and he is seeking compensation for his medical care and his inability to work. If that's true, this case is about (should have been about) who paid for that needed medical care, the necessities of life.

And I think this case is an example of why those rules can matter - sure, most of the time, someone doing what LoDuca was won't get caught, and maybe it won't matter practically. But part of the reasons we have those rules is to try to prevent - well maybe not this bullshit precisely - bullshit like this from happening. "Other people break the rules too and don't get caught" isn't an excuse.

But again, it still is a very human kind of error, so I still have sympathy. The real problem, for me, is the submission of the fake opinions.

Because once he got the order from the court ordering him to provide copies of the opinions or the case would be dismissed, he must have known something was wrong. That is not a normal order to receive. That order means the court (which has access to all the legal research tools he doesn't) thinks something is very seriously wrong. If he did not read that order and immediately go "Oh fuck" and a) read the defendant's reply and b) realize the cases seem to have been fake, he is not competent to practice law. And I mean that in a very serious way - he has no business practicing in the field with such serious consequences for people's lives if he didn't immediately recognize the problem.

So once he got that order, he has no excuse. At that point, he either consciously perpetrated a lie upon the court; or he is too incompetent to practice.

[medicalinjury]

The legal framework concerning medical negligence in Australia revolves around the concept of duty of care, establishing the standards that healthcare professionals must adhere to in fulfilling their responsibilities towards patients. This framework significantly shapes healthcare practices, influencing the decisions and conduct of medical practitioners throughout the country.