#parameddic

[ofyorkshire]

would being jeanie for work be outside bj's comfort zone? is it just for fun and for himself? i am sure there are clients who would want Jeanie

Yes and no. There would be different versions of Jeanie, just like there are different versions of BJ (and I suppose, really, most people have different personas for different environments). BJ likes leaving his work at the door, you know. Once he's off the clock, he likes to be off the clock, and having a strong separate persona for work, especially sex work, helps him work and helps him relax after work.

So sex worker Jeanie vs. dancer Jeanie vs. casual just-for-himself Jeanie would all look and behave differently and I don't think BJ would necessarily consider them the "same" Jeanie. Each would have different backstories in his head that help give them their own personality, depending on what he needs from them, and each would dress a little differently. Exaggerations, I guess. Sex worker Jeanie is more at ease with sex and her body than BJ is and isn't as afraid to hold boundaries, dancer Jeanie is confident and isn't afraid to get a little theatric and vulnerable in front of a crowd, and casual Jeanie is a bit less flashy and everything BJ wishes he could be if he could go back in time and rescue himself sooner, or was born completely differently. Jeanie, no matter which Jeanie it is, is the embodiment of self-love for BJ, and the kind of person he'd like to be.

Is she how BJ sees himself inside? Not quite, I think his vision of his "real self" is a lot more abstract, but Jeanie is completely detached from Barry James and all the baggage he carries, and she's a lot closer to his vision than not.

That said, I do think Jeanie would be born either after a client requests that BJ dress in drag, or slowly on its own with BJ giving in to a desire to experiment and a friend complimenting or encouraging him. I'm softest about the latter, but that can happen regardless. I think it'd be most fun to make the reason different for each verse because the point isn't really how she's created, but that at some point, Jeanie will exist because she makes BJ so happy.

But TL;DR, Jeanie for work would not be out of his comfort zone as long as Working Jeanie can still be separate from At Home Jeanie. There would be some days where I think he wouldn't be able to be Jeanie at work, because a part of him does want to keep her "safe" from the bad memories sex work can dredge up and he doesn't want to accidentally start relating her to those, but on the flip side, he'd also prefer being Jeanie at work. She's "better" at it, he says.

[erendreich]

@parameddic if you want an excuse to hurt him ⛓️

"One."

Crack!

"Two."

Crack!

"Three..."

The horsewhip came brutally across the young man's back a third time. A fourth, fifth, and final sixth that rang against the cold cellar walls with metronomic timing. Slow, assessing, Cale tilted his head at his newest work. The strikes had not split skin, but blood was blooming rapidly to the surface, streaking the man's bare back with angry, red marks. Good. These would serve as reminder enough, and that done, there was no point in rushing the rest of their time together just yet. Cale might as well enjoy and make the best of a bad situation.

"Look at me, Tyler"

Tyler, his little accident. Bound tightly at the wrists and ankles to keep him from trying to run, and his body, naked but for his underwear, was forced to bend uncomfortably at the knees and waist over a metal rail which served both as support to keep him from completely toppling and kept him in the proper position for whipping. Too, a thick, leather collar hung loosely enough to chaffe around his neck, pulled down by a chain fastened low to the floor. This was not an aesthetic choice; Tyler had been in this position for almost twelve hours now, and the chain kept him from straightening his legs, his back, or relieving the muscles that Cale knew must be straining. Humiliation, stress, helplessness... These were all important tools in breaking a spirited animal.

"I said, look at me."

Cale knotted his fist into Tyler's hair and yanked his head up. The chain around the paramedic's neck rattled.

"Six times, Tyler, exactly. Do you know why?" he asked, patient and over-soft for the cruelty he'd just committed. "Because there are six levels to your training. Six steps: Rhythm, Relaxation, Connection, Impulsion, Straightness, Collection. Right now, you are at the very bottom, not even at step one yet, but these six steps will be the cornerstone of everything we do here. It's very important that you remember them. Do you understand?"

[cardiomyapathy]

@parameddic

"There's a reason why you're a PARAMEDIC, and I'm a SURGEON. "

[twicecut]

📞 Ring, ring... It's for @parameddic.

"—Hey. You awake? It's Diego."

[normaltothemax]

@parameddic liked a starter call

“You should eat something.”

With a concerned frown, he sat on the coffee table across from TK. He’d been sitting on the couch for a while now. Lost in his thoughts, silent and unmoving. Carlos was pretty sure he knew exactly what TK was thinking about, too. The video footage of him and Kyle—Yusef—had gone viral. It was all over the internet and had already been picked up by a couple of news stations. Everybody everywhere was voicing their opinion on TK’s actions. Analyzing every last detail of that damned video and deciding where the blame lay.

As if TK didn’t feel guilty enough already.

Carlos couldn’t do much about that, unfortunately, so instead he tried to focus on what he could do, and what he could do was be there for TK. Stand firmly at his side and be strong for him while he needed someone to lean on. He could take care of him even if TK didn’t feel much like taking care of himself. And that started with getting some food in him. One hand rested on TK’s cheek, thumb stroking gently across the skin there. Carlos ducked his head and tried to meet his eyes. “Hm? Do you want to help me make something?” A distraction might be good.

[merrilark]

I saw a 'snail mail' button on your blog and i pressed it. No further thoughts. 🐌 ✉️

It's super late and I'm reeeeeally sleepy like barely awake and I stared at the envelope way too long bc I thought it was a slice of cheese.

So here's a snail enjoying cheese for you. I drew it with my finger on my phone but he's full of love. And cheese.

[sheldoney]

@parameddic

"Is it true that you cannot lay down after a concussion or is that just a myth?"

[kurthorton-moving]

@parameddic: "who told you it wasn't that bad?"

he's pretty sure they both know the answer to that question. he thinks, maybe, tk is just trying to make him say it out loud. the blonde gives a shrug, as if it doesnt matter, as if it isn't important. in truth, while his parents had told him as much, kurt was his own worst enemy. he's always felt the need to minimalize things, to insist its never that bad, that he's fine. he believes it to be his own character flaw, hasnt considered that its likely a learned response to a childhood of pressure. "me, my mom, i don't know." he feels a little weird about tks concern, so far from used to people worrying about him. "theres always someone who's got it worse, y'know?"

[strangcmatters]

@parameddic

She had been in Austin for four months. The first three were for setting up the shop; building the bookcases, organizing the rooms, pricing and shelving all the books. A month before opening she’d put out a call for gently used books, and was heartily responded to, cementing her belief that the move from California was the right one. The building did not yet overflow with books, but she was certain it was only a matter of time. The shop had been open a month, and business was going well enough—not booming by any metric, but a steady trickle that’ll keep the lights on. Her apartment was another matter entirely, still filled with boxes that needed unpacking.

She was among the stacks when she heard the soft jingle of the bell on the door. “Welcome to Strange Matters!” Rei called out, continuing to shelve books. “Let me know if I can help you find anything, and if you’re just popping in to ask about the name, it’s a Shakespeare reference!” With the last book returned to its shelf, she headed back to the front desk, smiling at her new customer. His appearance struck her as familiar, and she blinked a few times. “I feel like I’ve seen you before. You ever been to LA? Because I’ve barely left this shop since I moved here,” she laughed, returning to her waiting chair.

Barely a heartbeat passed once she sat before recognition sank in, and she turned fully to him, excited. “Oh, you’re the paramedic! The one who let go-” Her brain couldn’t keep up with her words, and her eyes squeezed shut as she realized what she’d said, a hot flush spreading across her cheeks. “That. Should not have been out loud, I am so sorry.” Is it too late to move back to California? She grimaced, scrambling for a way to fix this. “Can- Can I-…” She paused, taking a breath to center herself, and tried again. “Can I make you some tea?”

[arachnidiots-a]

TK & LIAM. continued from here | @parameddic

nervousness practically buzzes around liam. on the other side of the threshold they stand still in the same clothes they walked out of the station in, some loose button down and pants-- both colorful of course. if anything's changed it's the now present redness all over their face. liam can't hide that no matter how much they force their face into a smile.

the door is already open, tk's already stepped aside to let them in, but they're still trying to justify the unannounced visit. "emmett's not answering his phone and roxy's got a shift and--" and tk was next on their list for people to turn to. the small box in their hands shakes as she takes a loud breath in. she almost forgot about it, despite the absolute detour she went on for it. stepping into the home, she extends the box out towards tk. it's a pack of hot pockets.

"i- sorry this is kind of the best i could do." liam's never shown up anywhere empty handed, and even a moment like this isn't an exception. matter of fact, they feel like they probably should have bought more or at least that it was owed. "it's a two pack. one for you, one for carlos."

liam's quite good at being still. they've had a lot of practice and despite the frequent need to mess with jewelry, their hair, or sway from side to side they manage to usually be quite settled. it's a means of keeping themself from getting overwhelmed. standing opposite of tk now, they're anything but settled. one hand won't stop running through their hair, tugging at strands. they chew the inside of their cheek. the silence is uncomfortable. "i'm sorry for waking you."

[wearealive]

a closed starter that @parameddic did not ask for! from human!eli (tw: brief mention of child loss, blood/broken glass)

as much as eli liked to believe he'd seen everything, he'd only been in the field for three years — most days they dealt with the same few types of calls, but losing a child en route while they were stuck sitting in STAND-STILL traffic had sent him over the edge. all he could think about was his baby sister, but he had to push it down and do his job.

the ride back to the station with TK was damn near silent. they'd both asked each other if they were okay, and they'd both (probably lied) and said yes. there wasn't much to say after that. TK drove, and eli finished some electronic paperwork on his tablet. the moment they pulled back in, eli knew he needed to escape. he was always more than happy to start on cleaning the cabin right away, but he couldn't right now.

❝ i'm gonna go to the bathroom real quick. i'll be back in a sec. ❞ eli brushes past the other, barely inside the bathroom before his stomach twists and he's sick - he's able to make it to the sink, at least. the thought of locking the bathroom doesn't even cross his mind, brain going absolutely haywire.

all the emotions he'd been trying to suppress on the call are all bombarding him at once — anger. disgust. anxiety. sadness. it's too much. he splashes cold water on his face a few times, but it doesn't help. he needs to feel something stronger. he's so mad. he raises his fist and-

❝ fuck! ❞ heard easily from outside the bathroom. his fist smashed through the glass of the mirror, shards flying everywhere. a good majority are now stuck in his knuckles, and blood quickly begins to trickle down his arm. fuck, it hurts. he can't move a muscle in his hand without extreme pain. at the very least, his mind was off of the case for now. ❝ oh, fuck. oh, fuck. ❞ he was an idiot. there's a fast, hard knock at the door, which TK wastes no time swinging open. eli turns to face him, hand still stuck in a fist. ❝ i'm sorry. i'm sorry. i'm— ❞

[ofyorkshire]

i don't think "babe" is out of the question if bj were particularly vulnerable at that point and tk was being supportive in the. the. aftercare-adjacent way. i think it might slip out and he'd stick by it so long as BJ was comfortable with it at the time.

send a pet name/nickname that your muse might call mine, and see how my muse reacts to it.

There are some terms of endearment that make BJ kneejerk recoil (he has been called a lot of things by a lot of people, so some terms are soured for him, a bit) but "babe" is safe, especially coming from TK.

It would hurt initially for obvious reasons. The pining is real and loud lol. But BJ also will take any and every ounce of affection he can get and would be melty about "babe". When he's especially vulnerable, I think he'd like to be babe'd and babied a little bit for that matter. Hold him, pet his hair, rock him a little in your arms, and tell him nice things until he can believe them. He'll feel silly and probably a little embarrassed afterward but soooo grateful to have a safe, soft place to rest for a moment until he can pick himself up again.

Anyway. "Babe" is nice. BJ could learn to like it. I could see it becoming something that tethers him a little. Imagining him getting focused on something that worries him or starts dissociating, TK "hey, babe"s him, and it's enough that BJ remembers to take a breath. A+. He doesn't want TK to feel obligated to tether him, but is grateful when he does.

[9-1-1--lonestar]

@parameddic: "I'm awake." He was so totally not awake. Judd had woken him by thudding his gear on the same table TK had drifted off on, lightly drooling on his forearm, wrists folded into a pillow - but TK jerked up, now, voice rough with an edge of sleep, "I wasn't sleeping." He was sooooo sleeping. He rubbed the heel of one hand into one eye, squinting againt the light with the other. "When did you get back?"

" Yeah, I bet you was just fixin' to. " God those Strand boys were as the same as they could POSSIBLY be. Hell, TK couldn't even let someone know he was catching a couple minutes in down time. Were all New Yorkers like this? Judd had to assume so. Not like he had ANY PLANS on finding out.

Judd pulled the chair out from the table that sat across from Strand, hands folded in front of him, fingers laced together. Looking back at TK, his first reaction when it came to him and his dad had become looking them over for anything that might be wrong. The question of when they had gotten back pulled his attention over his shoulder to the ENGINE BAY.

" Bout ten minutes ago. You uh . . . Checkin your eyelids for blemishes or somethin? " By now, the way he talked about how prissy he found Strand and his kid had become more akin to a gesture of affection. Or at least, as far as Judd got to doing so.

[nctafraid]

@parameddic

"The only thing I'm saying is that Captain America is the best Avenger." Carlos shrugged, adding his own opinion to the current discussion happening at the firehouse. "I could list all the reasons why, but I don't think we're going to have that much time."

[wearejericho]

@parameddic He was about dead on his feet. It was not at all that TK wanted to leave Eli there to pack up the rest of the ambulance, check through supplies, log out all of their gear, ready the station for hand-over... all of these were a shopping list of random little closing-out tasks and on any other day he would have insisted, insisted, that they split it, even, and go for a game of something fun, after. But TK was dead on his feet, he had been thinking of bed and almost only of bed since two and a half hours ago, and he really didn't know how it had become so obvious he was exhausted but Eli wasn't wrong. He was covered in smoke and grit and grime. He had been on his feet, doing physical labour, all day. He had not had a chance to sit down since 3am that morning when the first five-alarm had happened and definitely hadn't had any chance to eat anything. Running on fumes since 8pm, and it was almost midnight, now. "Mmm that's too much to do on your own," c'mon, he held out a hand, "lemme do something." He did not have the actual brain power to choose something he could do right now, 'cause counting the stock and logging down counts was a terrible idea (he would not be able to count anything right now) and he wasn't really able to make his brain step past that option, but just. Give him a task he could do on his feet still. He'd do it.

eli watches the other, a faint smirk on his face. he'd never come out and say it, but TK was cute when he was tired. it made his protective instincts take over. ❝ no, no. ❞ he took a few steps forward and offered his hand up into the back of the cabin. ❝ come on, bud. you're gonna hurt yourself. ❞ tone a bit more serious, but the smile is still there.

❝ go upstairs. take a nap, clean up, get something in your stomach. then i'll drive you home. i can handle it. ❞ eli always appreciated help, but this is what he was literally built to do. the amount of responsibility given to paramedics could honestly be argued as inhumane. ❝ and if you pass out and hit your head i'm gonna have to drive your ass to the ER and then clean up the cabin again. ❞

[normaltothemax]

@parameddic

This sucked. It was pitch black out and the rain had been coming down in sheets for, like, forty-five minutes now. Soaking Jordan to the bone, making their teeth rattle with how hard they shivered. If not for their healing factor in this body, they probably would’ve ended up sick tomorrow. Currently, they were female, figured the sopping wet, sad, pathetic little girl look would be more likely to work in their favour.

They hadn’t counted on them being in the middle of fucking nowhere with no fucking cars on the road.

They’d seen two, so far, both of which had passed them by without so much as a second glance. Assholes. It’d been a while since that second car, and their feet were tired and sore from walking all day (pretty sure their blisters had blisters at this point, healing factor be damned). So when headlights lit up the road in front of them, they quickly turned to face the approaching car and stuck their thumb out, hiking their duffle bag up higher on their shoulder with their other hand.

Come on, man, cut them a break, please.