#medical skills

[lifewithaview]

Martin Clunes and Patrick Godfrey in Doc Martin (2004) The Apple Doesn't Fall

S3E1

Martin deals with the case of a young girl who has been acting out. When Louisa Glasson mentions Ritalin to the mother, Martin tries to point out that she is not qualified to give that kind of advice. A new police constable, Joe Penhale, arrives in Portwenn but seems to have a peculiar medical condition. Martin's aunt Joan has a car accident and Louisa faints while teaching a class. Pauline is bored with being a receptionist and desperately wants to give out medical advice so Martin has a proposal for her.

"Bert Large: Why is it, exactly, do you think that I'm unhappy all the time? I know that's a hard one.

Dr. Martin Ellingham: No, it isn't. You're lonely, bored, unloved, and past your prime, if you ever had a prime."

[tenth-sentence]

Women's medical skills proved vital during the many years of warfare and violent unrest.

"Normal Women: 900 Years of Making History" - Philippa Gregory

[arscorpii]

these aerial shots of the streets in the scene where anthy was about to jump off a building in episode 37 remind me of a network of blood capillaries gradually flowing with some foreign substance (the way the red lines were drawn certainly resembles some liquid substance). the camera panned towards anthy from the 1st to 4th picture, and the streets gradually turned from pure white to white with some red.

before the suicide scene, utena and anthy were enjoying tea and cookies at akio's place, and they were wearing their school uniforms. anthy indirectly hinted at "poisoning" the cookies. in response, utena directly stated that she had "poisoned" anthy's tea. both accepted the poison into their systems (bodies) without any hesitation or qualms. noticeably, in this scene, utena didn't wear the rose crest ring that she took off at the beginning of the episode. i'd like to think of the streets gradually turning from white to flowing with red liquid as the visualisation of the poison they consumed in this scene gradually circulating in the system (via blood vessels and capillaries); thus, these points represented utena and anthy's bond/relationship with each other up until before the suicide attempt (white) and after (flowing with red).

up to at least the moment utena found out about anthy and akio at the end of episode 36, utena and anthy hadn't been honest with each other, despite utena saying to anthy that she could come to her if anthy had any problems, and that they can help each other through anything (episode 25). from the point akio began making bold moves in grooming utena (episode 30 onwards), which led to sexual assaults and rape, utena had started to keep things out of anthy's knowledge/unable to tell certain things to anthy.

a prominent example of this would be the scene in episode 36 where anthy asked about utena's whereabouts the night utena went to the dueling arena with touga. other examples are in episodes 30 and 35. anthy, on the other hand, hadn't been honest with utena from the very beginning. from my understanding, from both sides, the dishonesty with each other came from the dire need to preserve the sanctity/purity of their bond (and the despairing inability to open up about respective sufferings). both utena and anthy didn't wish to taint their bond with their ugly stories of truths. the situation was more adverse for anthy because letting utena know the truth could derail all of akio's plans.

(note the network of streets) with regard to the series, colour theories were ever-present in every visual aspect. white was equated to purity and innocence; red was synonymous with violence and danger. i think these meanings suited the visuals of the post-suicide attempt scene, the purity of their bond was incrementally coloured with violent truths from one another. moreover, i also think the post-suicide attempt scene further reified the cantarella scene. in other words, the post-suicide attempt scene was the more literal take/depiction/iteration of the cantarella scene (if that makes sense), with the visuals of the white streets flowing with red as the connecting factor between the two scenes.

the final visual of the "poisoned streets" before anthy urged utena to leave the school. the poison was freely and fully flowing through every street. throughout the suicide scene, utena and anthy were both in their sleepwear. this may connote a more vulnerable and honest disposition without any facade, as well as a better understanding and more equal footing with one another, compared to when they were in school uniforms during the cantarella scene. utena was also wearing her ring here, which may highlight her choice to play the role of a prince for anthy's sake to the end.

in addition, i think the streets flowing with poison could also be seen as a network of empty/dried blood capillaries finally flowing with blood; akin to a dead body coming back to life. after a person dies, the first visible change would be pallor mortis (within 15 to 20 minutes), wherein the body begins to pale because blood stops moving through the capillaries. with regard to this information, the visuals may indicate a sign of rejuvenation of the bond between utena and anthy after opening up to one another. the bond between them became more human, alive (flowing with blood), as opposed to being hollow (dried out blood capillaries; like death). to me, i believe both interpretations could work simultaneously for the visuals of the streets.

[potatoescanbesadtoo]

corpse bride

[dragonnarrative-writes]

Transferrable Skills Part 6

Transferrable Skills Masterlist

Read on AO3

CW: Disrobing, CMNF (clothed male naked female), hamstring stretches (advised by the appropriate medical professional), praise, kink negotiations, kissing, touching over clothes, touching under clothes, explicit consent

“Feelin’ good?”

Simon’s got you laying back on the bed, a thick pillow under your neck and shoulders. You’re still wearing your cami, but he didn’t tell you to keep the pants. You usually don’t wear them for your stretches, so you had shucked them off before it had even occurred to you that maybe you shouldn’t. When glanced at him for his reaction, his eyes had been dark and hungry.

Now, you look at him, looking at you, and feel a bit breathless. “Y-yeah.”

“Green?”

“Green,” you say, a bit more firm. “I’m very comfortable, thank you.”

“Good girl,” he says. “Proposal. Acknowledge.”

“Acknowledged,” you answer, a little startled. “You want to try something?”

He puts one knee on the bed by your feet. “’M gonna help you. Hold your legs and apply a bit of pressure. Acknowledge.”

“You want to help me with my leg stretches.” You can’t help but feel a bit nervous, looking at the muscles in his arms. “You’re going to hold my legs, and also apply some pressure.”

“You’re going to tell me when it feels good, and when it feels bad,” he continues. “Use your scale. Acknowledge.”

God, he’s so good to you. Your lower back releases tension you didn’t know you were still holding. “I’m going to use my scale to tell you how it feels. Three is perfect, one is way too light, five is way too hard. Acknowledged.”

He coaxes you to bend your legs as he climbs fully on the bed, until your left thigh is over one of his, your other foot wedged under his shin. The memory foam dips under your own weight, but it feels like the whole bed is tipping to accommodate him. You’re not sure where to look as he plants a hand by your shoulder, blocking out the rest of the room.

He touches the back of your knee and you jump.

“Easy,” he whispers. His thumb sweeps over the front of your thigh before he lifts with the barest pressure. When your calf is cradled under his arm, he asks. “Good?”

“Yeah,” you rasp. Swallow. Try again. “Yeah. One.”

He pushes your knee up toward your diaphragm, then pulls your leg straight. “Hips,” he rumbles.

You glance down between you at where his shirt and sweatpants are making a valiant effort of keeping everything contained. “Uh huh.”

The hand on the bed comes up to cup your chin. He chuckles down at you. “Keep your ‘ips lined up right, Bambi.”

It’s the eye contact. It’s all the physical contact. It’s the day catching up to you. Whatever it is, your body lights up and your brain shuts off. “Please fuck me, sir.”

“Fuck.” He rumbles, shuffling forward and pulling your ass into the cradle of his thighs. When you try to wiggle, to feel him where he’s half hard against you, he uses his grip on your leg to hold you still. “So polite. My good girl. Can you be patient for me?”

You whine, one of your hands coming up to grip his forearm. “Please?”

“Gotta do your stretches first,” he rumbles. “That was the deal. TV, stretches, then the reward. Acknowledge.”

His grip on you is easy and solid. The way you’re folded under him means you’re well and truly stuck. You push the shin of your bent leg against his inner thigh and shiver when he doesn’t even twitch. “Please?”

“Stretches first,” he chuckles, pressing his thumb to your lips. “When I make you come, I don’t want to hurt you. Acknowledge.”

If he looks down, he is going to see how wet you are through your panties. “Acknowledged. Stretches first.”

“And…?”

And? You freeze in the act of touching the tip of your tongue to his thumb. “Uh. Unsure?”

“Keep your hips even,” he reminds you, enunciating as he stares into your eyes. “Acknowledge.”

“Keep my hips even,” you answer. You lick the pad of his thumb. It’s calloused and salty, and you want it in your mouth. “Acknowledged.”

“Good girl.”

He sits back enough to lift your left leg until your calf is on his shoulder, your knee slightly bent. And then he leans forward, bracing your leg until it straightens, incrementally.

Years ago, even this gentle pull to your hamstrings would have had you crying. Now, there’s the slightest burn as you flex your foot. You let him push until that burn spikes, and then you tap his arm twice. “Three, right there.”

“Good,” he rumbles. “Thirty seconds. You can do it, pretty girl.”

You could hold this position for an hour if he praises you through it. And he does, hushed words and gentle kisses pressed to whatever part of your leg he can reach. Your muscles relax into the position in record time. And then he’s easing back, massaging the back of your thigh and coaxing your knee to bend.

“Number.”

“Three,” you mumble as he switches sides, pulsing your right leg in preparation. “Two point eight.”

“Good girl.”

Your right leg does not want to move like the other one, probably as a result of sleeping on the floor. Simon notices almost before you do, doesn’t push you leg as far back as the other.

“Three point two,” you tell him before he can prompt you. You shut your eyes and take a deep breath as he pulls back the barest hint. “Good, good. Three.”

His hands are large and warm, one on the front of your lifted thigh, the other on your opposite hip. His thumb slips under the edge of your cami, rubbing back and forth. You let yourself focus on the rhythm of it, timing your breaths with the way his calluses drag against your skin. Sooner than you expect, he’s bringing your leg back down.

When you open your eyes, Simon is already looking at you. You’re not sure what he’s seeing. Before you can stop it, your brain says nothing he’s impressed by. Looking at his upper arms, which are almost as big around as your thighs, you feel distinctly unremarkable. Simon is so big. He has so many scars. He’s literally a hero. And here he is helping you with your hip mobility. God, how pathetic-

“Back to me,” Simon rumbles. He drops your legs on either side of his hips and leans forward to take your face in one hand again. “C’n almost see your mind racing, Bambi. Where’d you go?”

He’s hard against you, so big through the few layers between you that your head spins. It takes you a moment to parse out the question. When you do, you avoid his eyes. “M’ sorry.”

Simon’s other arm slides under your lower back, anchoring you closer as he rocks his hips down into yours. “Are you?”

Words gone, you gasp an affirmative noise. When your hands come up to grasp at his arm and his shoulder, he rewards you with another roll of his hips and a deep groan. He lets you grind up against him, startling another soft noise out of you.

This time, when he kisses you, he licks into your mouth immediately. His hand tilts your face where he wants it as his teeth nip at your bottom lip. All you can do is hold on. And even that becomes tenuous when he pushes your panties aside to grab a palm full of your ass.

The next roll of his body into yours is is the perfect friction against your clit. You surprise yourself with the noise you make as your hips buck into him without your input. The leg you wrap around his his waist gives you the leverage to chase the feeling, until the kiss ends as abruptly as it started.

Hands wrapped around your heaving sides, Simon sits back on his heels, his own breaths coming deep and ragged. His eyes are so dark as he looks over you. You gasp as his right slides up, pushing at your shirt, until he can swipe a thumb over your nipple.

“Thought I was ‘aving an ‘ard time styain’ disciplined before,” he chuckles as he squeezes at your skin. “Look’t you.” The flimsy shirt gets bunched up around your collar bones as he pets and pinches gently at you. “So fuckin’ soft, made for spoilin’. ‘Ow’m I supposed to keep focused?”

When he pinches your nipple again, you whine. “Simon, please!”

“Gotta do one more set, Bambi,” he chides, one hand sliding down to tease at the edge of your panties. When you whine again, he shushes you gently. “I know. “Y’re a good girl. Been waiting so patiently for your reward. So I have a proposal. Acknowledge.”

“Yes,” you gasp. At this point, you’ll do whatever he wants. “Okay. We can do it.”

“No,” he corrects, pulling at your nipple, just enough to make your back arch. “Acknowledge.”

“Acknowledged!” You moan when his pinching fingers go light and gentle again.

“Gonna keep doing your stretches,” he tells you, as he tugs your panties over the curve of your ass. He nods, and you can’t help but nod along, arching to let him pull them up your thighs. “An’ since you’re being so good, you can ‘ave one o’ my fingers in that pretty cunt.”

[parisoonic]

sunday shitpost

[ourlittleuluru]

A break away from dem angst of the previous WIP posting 😂 (sorry but not really) brain decided (instead of doing the art I'm SUPPOSED to) what if the LaDS boys were playing/in FF14, what'll be their race and jobs

[juustozzi]

a rest well deserved

(4/4)

[mikadll]

i'm gonna be honest, i am highly annoyed by the fact that this is one of the few times we actually get to see medic involved in direct combat and the comics decide to just kill him for the sake of, what, motivating heavy to face off classic heavy? boring ass writing decision

don't get me wrong i love the comics but i highly dislike how they played up medic to be important only to kill him off just to further the plot and give heavy more screen time 😐 they made him as disposable as a connery-era bond girl and it sucks ass so bad. what was the point of subverting the "passive healer who can't fend for themselves" trope with medic's entire character in general when you end up playing it straight for drama in the comics anyway? Fuck's sake lol

[micamicster]

A soundtrack for an as-yet theoretical tv show

[polling-sonic-fans]

Do you think Shadow has medical knowledge / medical skills?

♣️ Shadow has medical knowledge but little to no medical skills

♠️ Shadow has medical skills but little to no medical knowledge 

♥️ Shadow has medical knowledge and medical skills

♦️ Shadow has neither medical knowledge nor medical skills

(If this acceptable to request in the poll) Feel free to expand on your answer i.e. what medical knowledge / medical skills Shadow would or would not have specifically.

Thanks @delightrolls for the poll!

Polls for the Sonic fandom on just about anything. Share polls you like to get more data. Asks and submissions always open.

[a-scary-lack-of-common-sense]

What is wrong with him, wrong answers only.

Redraw of his old portrait:

[pain-is-too-tired]

Random funny sketch cause I just learned what today is hdgdg