#we're full of medical doctors

[raccoonskoodilypoopdungeon]

Your mom started that fire.

i know for a fact my friend's dad did. his family owns a local grocery and he wanted the insurance money. miraculously only the store caught on fire and the rest of the mall didn't.

tho it wouldn't be past my mom i think. if there was like a benefit somehow. you can get disowned by your family and kicked out of the gang but you can't take the gang out of the person.

[yo-yo-yoshiko]

I wanna laugh and say the Ghost/ExAid movie was the most un-serious thing i've ever seen but it was actually so stressful. Nice job writers!!

Putting this one under the cut cause I gave up on it lol:

[tanadrin]

on reflection, i think there's a symmetry to, say, doctors who are willing to refer patients to osteopaths or other ""holistic"" healthcare providers and the susceptibility of engineers to certain kinds of crankdom (of the "i-disproved-relativity-in-my-garage" type). both are forms of scientific training of a sort, but they're heavily outcome-focused and not theoretically focused. in large part, this is good! you do not as a doctor need to have a robust theoretical defense of every treatment you provide to patients, and it would be impossible to do so, because medicine is a huge and complicated subject. you do not, as an engineer, need to have a subtle grasp of theoretical physics to build a bridge; you just need to know what the latest developments in bridge-building are.

but it means in both cases you can have people who are skilled in their field, or who even excel, but who don't understand very well why certain techniques work. and in the case of alt medicine, where there has been considerable work to try to obfuscate or deceive people on how shaky the theoretical basis for their techniques are (stuff that literally if you remember your high-school physics and biology at all will make you go, "wait, there is no plausible mechanism for this, that's not how any of this works"), doctors who do not have time to read studies on RCT trials of every type of medicine they have ever heard of will blithely recommend stuff to patients that's actually complete horseshit, especially if the culture around them has been normalizing that woo as part of "holistic" therapy for the last hundred years, spurred on by alternative medicine practitioners and a public with a fear of needles and ~chemicals~ that medical practitioners have not done enough to allay.

it does not help that medicine only emerged very recently from being about 99% bullshit. like maybe at the end of the 19th century at best medicine was starting to be put on a broad-based empirical and theoretical footing--before that it's truly insane the stuff that wasn't just considered perfectly normal medical practice, but was considered serious Science. i mean, this is why we developed double-blind studies in the first place--because theoretical explanations of medical treatments are still necessarily often secondary to the process of finding ones that actually work, so we need really robust mechanisms to avoid confirmation bias or outright charlatanry. and while mainstream medicine is far from perfect in this respect, "alternative medicine" is all far, far worse.

[stardustedknuckles]

My bite was way less fun but yeah. That just happens. all of my calluses also fell off when the top layer of the rest of my skin did. The bite went straight for my kidneys and tried to take them out, and as a result for months I couldn't hydrate correctly. It doesn't matter how much water/fluid you drink if your body can't hold on to it, but whatever fuckery was going on clearly allowed me to absorb some as it healed or I just wouldn't have made it after coming off the saline drip. It looked like sunburn peel but it was a different texture. I spent probably a solid week with a pumice stone in the shower just trying to get the layers of skin to stop coming off my feet and when it was over, I had baby soft heels. It was absolutely fucking bonkers.

👍👍👍 So fresh

A guy in an entomology group I'm in got a confirmed brown recluse bite because he felt something tickle his neck and brushed it off, accidentally mashing the spider against his skin. This is how almost all recluse bites happen since they're very very unaggressive. Anyway the bite was just a small nasty spot that cleared up on its own, but his hands and feet swelled up really bad. Then when the swelling went back down, all his calluses were loose and just fell right off leaving his hands and feet like brand new???????????

[ipoddymouth]

You had 8 tumors??? Bestie omg why and are you okay 😭

blragjeig i am fine truly there was just like a wild period between my teens-early twenties where i was just extremely good at growing tumors???? my lil brother had a similar issue around the same age (he's also fine) i just remember my mom being STRESSED

[cocklessboy]

The biggest male privilege I have so far encountered is going to the doctor.

I lived as a woman for 35 years. I have a lifetime of chronic health issues including chronic pain, chronic fatigue, respiratory issues, and neurodivergence (autistic + ADHD). There's so much wrong with my body and brain that I have never dared to make a single list of it to show a doctor because I was so sure I would be sent directly to a psychologist specializing in hypochondria (sorry, "anxiety") without getting a single test done.

And I was right. Anytime I ever tried to bring up even one of my health issues, every doctor's initial reaction was, at best, to look at me with doubt. A raised eyebrow. A seemingly casual, offhand question about whether I'd ever been diagnosed with an anxiety disorder. Even female doctors!

We're not talking about super rare symptoms here either. Joint pain. Chronic joint pain since I was about 19 years old. Back pain. Trouble breathing. Allergy-like reactions to things that aren't typically allergens. Headaches. Brain fog. Severe insomnia. Sensitivity to cold and heat.

There's a lot more going on than that, but those were the things I thought I might be able to at least get some acknowledgement of. Some tests, at least. But 90% of the time I was told to go home, rest, take a few days off work, take some benzos (which they'd throw at me without hesitation), just chill out a bit, you'll be fine. Anxiety can cause all kinds of odd symptoms.

Anyone female-presenting reading this is surely nodding along. Yup, that's just how doctors are.

Except...

I started transitioning about 2.5 years ago. At this point I have a beard, male pattern baldness, a deep voice, and a flat chest. All of my doctors know that I'm trans because I still haven't managed to get all the paperwork legally changed, but when they look at me, even if they knew me as female at first, they see a man.

I knew men didn't face the same hurdles when it came to health care, but I had no idea it was this different.

The last time I saw my GP (a man, fairly young, 30s or so), I mentioned chronic pain, and he was concerned to see that it wasn't represented in my file. Previous doctors hadn't even bothered to write it down. He pushed his next appointment back to spend nearly an hour with me going through my entire body while I described every type of chronic pain I had, how long I'd had it, what causes I was aware of. He asked me if I had any theories as to why I had so much pain and looked at me with concerned expectation, hoping I might have a starting point for him. He immediately drew up referrals for pain specialists (a profession I didn't even know existed till that moment) and physical therapy. He said depending on how it goes, he may need to help me get on some degree of disability assistance from the government, since I obviously shouldn't be trying to work full-time under these circumstances.

Never a glimmer of doubt in his eye. Never did he so much as mention the word "anxiety".

There's also my psychiatrist. He diagnosed me with ADHD last year (meeting me as a man from the start, though he knew I was trans). He never doubted my symptoms or medical history. He also took my pain and sleep issues seriously from the start and has been trying to help me find medications to help both those things while I go through the long process of seeing other specialists. I've had bad reactions to almost everything I've tried, because that's what always happens. Sometimes it seems like I'm allergic to the whole world.

And then, just a few days ago, the most shocking thing happened. I'd been wondering for a while if I might have a mast cell condition like MCAS, having read a lot of informative posts by @thebibliosphere which sounded a little too relatable. Another friend suggested it might explain some of my problems, so I decided to mention it to the psychiatrist, fully prepared to laugh it off. Yeah, a friend thinks I might have it, I'm not convinced though.

His response? That's an interesting theory. It would be difficult to test for especially in this country, but that's no reason not to try treatments and see if they are helpful. He adjusted his medication recommendations immediately based on this suggestion. He's researching an elimination diet to diagnose my food sensitivities.

I casually mentioned MCAS, something routinely dismissed by doctors with female patients, and he instantly took the possibility seriously.

That's it. I've reached peak male privilege. There is nothing else that could happen that could be more insane than that.

I literally keep having to hold myself back from apologizing or hedging or trying to frame my theories as someone else's idea lest I be dismissed as a hypochondriac. I told the doctor I'd like to make a big list of every health issue I have, diagnosed and undiagnosed, every theory I've been given or come up with myself, and every medication I've tried and my reactions to it - something I've never done because I knew for a fact no doctor would take me seriously if they saw such a list all at once. He said it was a good idea and could be very helpful.

Female-presenting people are of course not going to be surprised by any of this, but in my experience, male-presenting people often are. When you've never had a doctor scoff at you, laugh at you, literally say "I won't consider that possibility until you've been cleared by a psychologist" for the most mundane of health problems, it might be hard to imagine just how demoralizing it is. How scary it becomes going to the doctor. How you can internalize the idea that you're just imagining things, making a big deal out of nothing.

Now that I'm visibly a man, all of my doctors are suddenly very concerned about the fact that I've been simply living like this for nearly four decades with no help. And I know how many women will have to go their whole lives never getting that help simply because of sexism in the medical field.

If you know a doctor, show them this story. Even if they are female. Even if they consider themselves leftists and feminists and allies. Ask them to really, truly, deep down, consider whether they really treat their male and female patients the same. Suggest that the next time they hear a valid complaint from a male patient, imagine they were a woman and consider whether you'd take it seriously. The next time they hear a frivolous-sounding complaint from a female patient, imagine they were a man and consider whether it would sound more credible.

It's hard to unlearn these biases. But it simply has to be done. I've lived both sides of this issue. And every doctor insists they treat their male and female patients the same. But some of the doctors astonished that I didn't get better care in the past are the same doctors who dismissed me before.

I'm glad I'm getting the care I need, even if it is several decades late. And I'm angry that it took so long. And I'm furious that most female-presenting people will never have this chance.

[hayatoseyepatch]

𝕯𝖊𝖘𝖈𝖗𝖎𝖕𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓:Zayne could not contain the possessive need to keep you all to himself, to not let anyone see the most private parts of your being. So if he had to convince you to let him perform your routine gynecological exam, then so be it. 𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖗𝖆𝖈𝖙𝖊𝖗:Zayne (Love & Deepspace) 𝖂𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝕮𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙:1.2k 𝕮𝖔𝖓𝖙𝖆𝖎𝖓𝖘:Fem!ReaderxZayne. ⚠️NSFW Dark Content⚠️.

𝕮𝖔𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖓𝖙 𝖂𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘:Pussy inspection, yandere themes, fingering, depraved thoughts, possessive behavior, praise, degradation, dubcon, medical malpractice, sexual coercion, power dynamics (kinda?), doctor/patient play.

𝕬𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗’𝖘 𝕹𝖔𝖙𝖊: It's time to get this shit started!! (•̀ᴗ•́)و Welcome to the first official post of my kinktober. We're starting off strong of course with a character I've never written before, oops. So I do apologize if Zayne is a wee bit ooc. That being said, I hope you enjoy and I'll see you in the next one! ૮꒰ྀི∩´ᵕ`∩꒱ྀིა See full kinktober master list here.

 Zayne typically didn’t perform this kind of examination, he was a surgeon not a gynecologist. However, the mere idea of anyone, even another medical professional, having access to your most intimate places was enough to make his skin crawl. This profound possessive energy he felt when it came to you was not something he was familiar with but he couldn’t contain himself. So here you sat, legs in stirrups, knees locked together as much as possible, shy for Zayne to see your most intimate areas. He had to swallow a chuckle, the stirrups making it impossible for you to try and hide yourself from him. He eyed you as he slid the latex onto his digits, sitting on the chair in front of you and rolling until he was positioned between your legs. He hummed lightly, a cold hand sliding up the warmth of your thighs, parting what you could close of your legs to expose yourself to him.

“Relax, it’s just a routine exam, it’ll be over before you know it.” His voice was calming the low baritone soothing but holding a sternness that had you complying under his touch. Zayne was grateful he was sat at a lower level, your eyes also being transfixed on the ceiling, because if you spared a glance you might have caught the way he needed to adjust himself in his slacks. The sight of your glistening pussy was enough to have his cock stirring. He cleared his throat, focusing at the task at hand. “I’ll be inserting my fingers, they may be a bit cold due to the lubricant.” He tried to keep his tone professional and tried to keep the desperation from his tone.

He felt like an animal being held back on a tight leash. The urge to thrust his fingers in your tight heat, to lean forward just a bit and finally get a taste of you. The number of times he craved to be in a similar position, the countless nights he had fisted his cock as the thought of feeling you around him was mortifying. As his first digit slipped past your entrance he swallowed a groan. Your walls welcomed him fully, practically sucking in his digit with your tightness. He wasn’t sure if it was his own desire speaking or if you were wet enough without the lubricant for his fingers to ease inside of you. He catches it, the sharp inhale. he deludes himself into thinking that it's in response to the stretch that his fingers provide and not the temperature of his digits. He slides in a second digit, your walls hugging his fingers tightly. “I need you to relax, you think you could do that for me?” His voice is gentle, your tightness indicative of being tense.

“But I am relaxed, Dr. Zayne.” The words fall from your lips without hesitation, being sincere in their delivery. Zayne blinked to himself, you couldn’t possibly be his tight. He chanced his words hopeful tone forced to be swallowed. “So are you always this tight? Would you say you are active in your sex life?” He watches between your knees as your face flushes, sparing a glance between you legs had been a mistake. Seeing him looking up at you between your thighs, while his fingers were knuckle deep inside you, caused an involuntary clench of your cunt. Sucking his fingers in deeper as if begging for more. “Well, I..” Your voice trails off, embarrassed to say your last partner had been quite some time ago, since you had rekindled with Zayne, if you were honest.

Zayne it seems senses your words you were grateful you didn’t have to continue. However, that gratefulness is replaced with mortification at his following words. “With how, well, responsive you’re being I’d say it was quite some time since you have taken a partner. That kind of sexual deprivation could cause a build-up of frustration and tension, its not good for your evol.” Zayne offered a pensive sigh, trying to make it as believable as possible that this was in your best interest for your health. “The best course of action would be a stimulated orgasm, to release some of that tension.”

The way Zayne spoke, so certain and absolute, had you believing that this was the only course of action to assist with your issue. And you’d be lying if you hadn’t imagined this exact scenario while at home with your own fingers buried in your depths. “Whatever you think is best, you are the doctor afterall.” Your voice quivered albeit nervous as his fingers began to move, hoping this meant more than just a routine exam to him. Though you must admit, you’ve never heard of this type of treatment ever taking place. Even Zayne himself was doubtful you would fall for his ruse, but he also was hopeful you’re agreeance was because it was him. He knew he was right to think no one else should this exam, not when you were so easily goaded into following his instructions. “Yes, just like that, you're doing so well for me.”

His fingers set a steady pace from the beginning, pumping in and out of your walls easily and without resistance. He took the thumb on his free hand, his tongue swiping across the latex covered digit to act as lubricant, not that it was truly needed, before using it to rub tight circles on your clit. He relished in the sounds that slipped from your lips, the cry of “Dr. Zayne” reaching his ears and making his cock throb against the confines of his scrubs. Unable to qualm his desire any longer he groaned. “My apologies, snowflake, this is going to be very unprofessional of me.” His voice came out husky, dripping with need as he leaned forward, replacing his thumb with his tongue.

He tries and fails to swallow the groan as he finally takes you against his tastebuds after yearning for longer than he is proud to admit. His wet muscle moves in time with his fingertips as they work in tandem to bring you to release. He takes his now free hand, applying pressure to the patch of skin below your belly button. The added weight of his hand makes it feel as if his fingers are pressing impossibly deep, your head being thrown back, making the parchment covering the seat crinkle, alerting yourself just as to where you both were. Even if you wanted to protest or express concern that anyone could walk in, your voice dies in your throat cut off by a moan as the pads of his fingers find that oh so delicate spongey patch within your depths.

Your receptiveness to his touch has him abusing that spot, picking up the speed at with he lapped at your clit until your hips bucked against his face riding out the waves of your orgasm as much as the stirrups would allow. He allows you a moment of reprieve, watching as you res against the seat, chest rising and falling to catch your breath after the intense orgasm. “Now, we’ll continue with the examination whenever you’re ready.” He speaks, wiping your juices from his chin, as if he hadn’t just eaten your cunt. “Though I will recommend you come visit me again to release some of that built up tension, cant have one of our best hunters out of commission now could we?” if you hadn’t know any better you would have sworn there was a curl to his lips and a wink thrown in your direction. But, hey, who were you to disobey the doctor's orders?

𝕯𝖎𝖛𝖎𝖉𝖊𝖗𝖘 𝖇𝖞 @/𝖈𝖆𝖋𝖊𝖐𝖎𝖙𝖘𝖚𝖓𝖊 & @/𝖘𝖆𝖗𝖆𝖉𝖎𝖐𝖆-𝖌𝖗𝖆𝖕𝖍𝖎𝖈𝖘. 𝕾𝖕𝖊𝖈𝖎𝖆𝖑 𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖓𝖐𝖘 𝖙𝖔 𝖒𝖞 𝖑𝖎𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖆𝖑 𝖜𝖎𝖋𝖊 @eevees-hobbies 𝖋𝖔𝖗 𝖇𝖊𝖙𝖆 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖍𝖊𝖑𝖕𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖒𝖊 𝖙𝖍𝖗𝖔𝖚𝖌𝖍 𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖘 𝖔𝖓𝖊, 𝕴 𝖆𝖉𝖔𝖗𝖊 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖇𝖇! ( ˘ ³˘)♥︎

𝕿𝖆𝖌𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙: @pixelcafe-network @interstellar-inn @littleplantfreak @maruflix @umemiaa @143-ilyuu @uzxotic @serendipitous-fernweh @princesstiti14 (𝖕𝖑𝖊𝖆𝖘𝖊 𝖋𝖊𝖊𝖑 𝖋𝖗𝖊𝖊 𝖙𝖔 𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖒𝖊𝖓𝖙/𝖉𝖒/𝖆𝖘𝖐 𝖎𝖋 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖜𝖔𝖚𝖑𝖉 𝖑𝖎𝖐𝖊 𝖙𝖔 𝖇𝖊 𝖆𝖉𝖉𝖊𝖉 𝖙𝖔 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖙𝖆𝖌𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 𝖋𝖔𝖗 𝖘𝖔𝖒𝖊 𝖔𝖗 𝖆𝖑𝖑 𝖔𝖋 𝖒𝖞 𝖐𝖎𝖓𝖐𝖙𝖔𝖇𝖊𝖗 𝖋𝖎𝖈𝖘) (ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ.ﾟ

[white--moon]

He can tell his reassurance hasn't totally cleared up whatever ingrained dislike Ichigo's feeling. Shiro's been called every version of crazy so many times in so many different situations that it doesn't come anywhere near bothering him. Most of the time he finds it amusing. He kind of thinks Ichigo's heard in a few times too, but has the oposite response to it. He nods a small motion, "Yeah, or that." Still a little crazy. Maybe more so, since there apparently wasn't much thought put into it. Not for the first time, he's struck by how loyal and protective Ichigo has become towards him. He probably shouldn't be surprised, he knows how Ichigo is towards friends and family, but even still, Shiro has a hard time fitting himself into that category even though, objectively, he sees that it has happened. He scoffs lightly though, "If you tried to change it, you'd be takin' away things I like about you."

He is actually really offended by that. Not by the suggestion that they wouldn't be able to abstain for that long because that's totally true, but the part about Ichigo planning to avoid him that long. "Tch. You can't avoid me, I would'a hunted you down so fucking fast. We would'a fucked so hard you wouldn't'a been able to walk into the ring let along fight. Avoid me- Ugh. Fuckin' rude. When have I ever been avoidable?"

His brows arch and he looks over at Ichigo again. He would have thought Ichigo would have been turned over if he told his dad the truth. "You ever think about just tellin' him what's goin' on? If he wouldn't turn you in and you're already not livin' at home, where your business could endanger your family-" He kind of trails off with a shrug. "I dunno. You shouldn't take advice from me, I don't know how that shit works."

The click of the seatbelt seems so loud right before there's a hand in his hair and he's being tugged across the middle council. He grunts a surprised sound. It's a miracle he hasn't wrecked his car yet, with the way Ichigo's making a habit of kissing him close to senseless while he's driving. He can't curse because of tongue and teeth and the way every time they touch in literally any way it seems like the air around them might combust, but he groans the sentiment instead.

Seems Ichigo didn’t like that. “I don’t think any of that is false, but you still gotta be a little crazy to go for it. I’d say just a moment of crazy, but you planned it out, so.” He shrugs. Built in crazy. The good kind, though. “I’m not complaining and I don’t mean it in a bad way, just so y’ know. I like how gutsy you are.”

Three quarters of his attention is on the road but the remaining is enough to realize Ichigo’s getting all huffy about his answer. He can’t not smirk about how easy it was to get under Ichigo’s skin. “Ok, woah, you told me a week or more for a fight, but still you’re absolutely right.” He’s not even going to bother pretending he’d hold to that. They couldn’t make it two days when they got their piercings. The only reason it’s been more than 72 hours now is because Ichigo was literally unconscious and in a different city. And practically the first thing Shiro did was send him nudes. There is no hope of pretending to withhold sex.

He sees Ichigo’s point about his dad. “You do live in a trash neighborhood and so does your boyfriend. Sometimes trouble just finds certain people. Probably best not too offer up too much information without prompt though.”

His eyes corner on Ichigo momentarily. “You know I don’t ask nice for anything, but I’m full of plenty'a looks.” Ichigo’s right; they’re going to end up stopping because Ichigo’s too fucked up for car sex right now.

[theseandi]

honestly so thankful that in the past couple years not only is it a nice day when i go to my checkups but the doctors who have treated me for my anxiety have been so soft spoken, kind, and listened. they actually attempted to understand what triggers me and offered suggestions including, but not only, counseling if i was open to it. when i was a teen all they did was tell me it was my fault or that i was spoiled. i wish i knew where i go wrong because i give far too many people that idea of me. it felt as if they were just cycling me through, not caring if i got better or not and giving up or not trying much at all. i suppose it is my fault though since it is all in my head. the fear, that is. i used to enter a room head down, barely saying a word and feeling just as empty when i left. i used to be a doe, hopping through the forest and suddenly shot in the shoulder, all while being told it was my own fault for being in the way. nowadays i enter a wounded fawn, knees trembling and barely able to stand on two legs but leave with a bandage on my scrapped knee and a sigh of relief.. perhaps it's not so bad, and perhaps i could be okay someday...

[ms-demeanor]

My mom has gone full on Youtube Woo "natural cures" and I have no idea how to get through to her. Literally sitting at home in front of the tv playing video after video of pseudoscientific bunk and lapping it up... She's diabetic and a cancer survivor and I fear she's gonna do irreparable damage in her forays into the deep end...

Do you have any tips on reaching folks that are in this deep?

Regular reinforcement of evidence-based medicine as kind as you can make it whenever it comes up.

"Oh I heard about this coffee enema thing..." "There's not really any evidence to back that up, mom, and besides, it sounds pretty unpleasant."

"Oh I heard about how nightshades are poison" "That book doesn't have a lot of great evidence, plus here are the kinds of micronutrients that you can get from nightshades, they're important in your diet."

"Oh I'm not sure about vaccines anymore, the new ones are so scary" "Mom, I'm so glad you got me vaccinated, I think about how kids younger than me are at risk of measles and other issues because of vaccine hesitancy and I worry so much for them, I think you made the right decision when I was a kid and I'm grateful for it."

"Oh, but fluoride in the water can cause IQ losses in young children," "Mom, those studies aren't in areas where fluoride is added, they're in areas where it's naturally high and are way, way above what gets added here, plus look at you and me, we have been drinking fluoridated water and we're both smart."

IDK, it's miserable. Basically you go on natural news and learn about all the lies, then spend twenty times as much time learning about the debunkings for all the lies and then try to be nice when you tell them they're wrong.

Since your mom has had previous successful treatment from allopathic doctors call back to that; "but mom I'm so glad they were able to take care of your cancer - I know it was hard but I think you might not have survived if you hadn't trusted your doctors." "but mom, look at how much the medical science on diabetes has improved in your lifetime; i'm glad it's easier to manage now than it was when you were younger, and that there are better treatments being developed all the time; I don't think they're hiding things from us otherwise they'd still treat diabetes and cancer like they did in the 50s, and things are so much better than that."

Just. Try to be nice. Try not to attack her. Try to keep it light and offer cheerful arguments before changing the subject.

You don't want her to get defensive, you want her to consider you to be someone she can ask for information who won't make fun of her and doesn't think she's stupid.

Anyway. Life with my mother in law has been fun recently. She watched a youtube video and decided she must have gone into ketosis after fasting for twelve hours so she ordered a bunch of protein strips and I'm cooking for her a few times a week to guarantee that she's eating something other than canned chili beans.

So. You know. I feel you.

[iatrophilosophos]

Hey I'm hearing uh. More, and more, and more buzz about GLP-1 agonists like ozempic from random ppl and healthcare providers alike and there's like a terrifying lack of lucidity abt it so I just wanna say, if you've heard some stuff and are curious:

Ozempic is a chemically-aided crash diet. That's it.

Like metformin, an older diabetes medication used off-label for weight loss, it's functioning as an appetite suppressant in this use-case. It's not magic; it's not changing how your body makes or uses fat; it just makes it less miserable to eat less. It is contraindicated by histories of disordered eating and should absolutely not be prescribed without a full screening for above-adequate food intake and nutrition *and* ongoing screening for adequate nourishment/malnutrition: this is broadly not happening.

I've also seen no indication that ozempic/GLP-1 agonists are any less likely to lead to weight cycling (w/o constant use) than a straight crash diet, or do anything meaningful to limit the known, significant health risks of weight cycling.

Nothing has changed:

The main things we know from a western scientific perspective about weight and weight loss are that 1) almost all people who lose significant weight gain it back and 2) weight cycling causes cardiovascular and metabolic health complications. Yall we aint even have strong evidence to suggest that weight loss is beneficial to health conditions associated with higher weights. This *should* point to Dr's never ever reccomending weight loss (we do know it can hurt, don't know it can help) but yknow we live in uhhhh fucking world.

We are possibly ripe for an aggressive intensification of anti-fat medical rhetoric, especially in pediatrics

Among the projections for an RFK FDA that ive gotten from folks i know in these fields is a renewed focus on childhood obseity and general military-style fitness. As the ozempic fad has already been ramping up, I'm kinda! concerned! about this being a major point of focus for the oncoming administration--i figure we're ripe for another mass diet craze associated with a wide variety of deaths anyway and that existing cultural+market inertia added to it being literally on the agenda spells some not great things. I really seriously reccomend paying extra attention to this area.

Clinics love ozempic because it's extremely popular and extremely profitable--i even know someone who's job was threatened for refusing to prescribe it. We already know that we cant trust doctors to be informed around weight or for the system to sound public alarms.

Obviously, people have the right to do whatever they want--but the disclosure just isn't there and people are being sold this stuff based on the idea it'll make them *healthier* and prevent disease. It can't and it won't.

If the claims here about weight in general are new to you, start here: (Don't love the title of the article, second the exasperation)

If you want to understand more about glp-1 agonists specifically, like, start with the Wikipedia article and do some googling it lays out the pharmacology in relatively plain language. Sry i ain't doing a buncha work to find citations ppl won't click; there's not a lot of good critical stuff out there that's actually published but it doesn't actually take a lot of reading up on critical weight science to form a critical take on the sources singing ozempics praises.

Peace, good luck, do whatever you want forever, maybe tell ur mom that this isn't any different from the disastrous weight loss fads of the 90s.

[inkskinned]

you have to go to work so you can pay for your doctor, who is not taking your insurance right now, and if you say i can't afford the doctor's you are told - get a better job. it is very sad that you are unwell, yes, but maybe you should have thought about that before not having a better job.

(where is the better job? who is giving out these better jobs? you are sick, you are hurting - how the hell are you supposed to be well enough for this better job?)

but you go to the doctor because you had the nerve to be hurt or sick or whatever else. and they tell you that it is because you have anxiety. you try your best. you are a self-advocate. you've done the reading (which sometimes pisses them off worse, honestly). you say it is actually adding to my anxiety, it is effecting my quality of life. so they say that you are fat. they say that all young people have this happen to them, isn't it a medical marvel! they say that you should eat more vegetables. they say that you probably just need to lose a little more weight, and that you are faking it for attention.

(what attention could this doctor possibly give? what validation? that's their fucking job, isn't it?)

there is always a hypochondriac, right. someone always tells you about a hypochondriac. or someone who is unnecessarily aggressive during the worst days of their life. or someone looking "for a quick fix". or some idiot who wasn't educated about how to properly care for themselves who just abandons their treatment. and again, the hypochondriac, the overly-cautious hysteric. these people don't deserve to be treated like humans (right), and since you might be one of these people, you also don't get treated like a human. because those people can really fuck with the system, you now have to pay for it. and besides. you're actually probably faking it.

(more often than not, you find a 2:1 ratio of these stories. for every "hypochondriac", there are 2 people who knew something was wrong, and yet nobody could fucking find it. the story often ends with pointless suffering. the story often ends with and now it's too late, and it's going to kill me.)

you are actually just making excuses. someone else got that procedure or that diagnosis and he's fine, you should be fine too. someone else said they watched a documentary about other inspirational people with your exact same condition, maybe you should be inspirational, too. you're just too morbid. your pain and your experience is probably just not statistically concerning. it is all self-reported anyway, and you're just being a baby.

(once, while sitting down in the middle of making coffee, you had the sudden, horrible thought - i could kill myself to make the pain stop. you had to call your best friend after that. had to pet your dog. had to cry about it in the shower. you won't, but that moment - god, fuck. the pain just goes on and on.)

you know someone who went in for routine surgery and said i still feel everything. they told her to just relax. it took her kicking and screaming before they figured out she wasn't lying - the anesthetic drip hadn't been working. you know someone who went in for severe migraines who was told drink water and lose weight. you know someone who was actively bleeding out and throwing up in the ER and was told you're just having a bad period.

in the ER there are always these little posters saying things like "don't wait! get checked today!" and you think about how often you do wait. how often the days spool out. you once waited a full week before seeing the doctor for what you thought was a sprained wrist. it had actually been broken - they had to rebreak it to set it.

but you go into the doctor. the problem you're having is immediate. the person behind the counter frowns and says we're not taking your insurance. you will be paying for this out-of-pocket.

they send you home with tylenol and a little health packet about weight loss or anxiety or attention deficit. on the front it has your birthday and diagnosis. you think about crying, and the words swim. it might as well say go fuck yourself. it might as well say you're a fucking idiot. it might as well say light your money on fire and lie down in it. and the entire fucking time - the problem persists.

it's okay. it's okay, it's just another thing, you think. it's just another thing i have to learn to live with.

[waitforiiiit]

Hello, I need advice about gluten-free diets on behalf of a friend who's not on tumblr. I found your blog by jumping from @thebibliosphere, then @chaotic-archaeologist, then you!

My friend been suffering from stomach pain for years. Gastroscopies and coloscopies haven't shown anything. Her doctor made her try a non-gluten diet for a week, then a month, without any change in the pain.

Now her doc wants her to stop gluten for a full year instead of looking for other causes. My friend thinks that if staying gluten-free for one month hasn't shown any improvement what her doctor is asking her makes no sense.

Note: we're both French, so medical costs are not a problem.

Second note: don't hesitate to share my ask with other people who know how avoidance diets work!

Hi! I'm not sure I can help since I'm not gluten-free, but I have done exclusion diets. In my experience, a month is not long enough for your system to adjust, and you should really give it a minimum of three months. I hope this helps!

[tinydefector]

Interface Rust Disease

I wanna thank @penny-anna for letting me use this idea, I didn't use it for all the characters and some are shorter than others but I had alot of fun working on this and might do some others if people want other characters.

On another note, I live!!, got sick been working horses and had Christmas, got a new year's party I'm heading to tomorrow so wanted to finally get this finished as it's been sitting in my drafts for a while now.

___________

Word count: 5k

Warnings: mention of sex/interfacing, medical check ups, robot STDs

__________

Shouting can be heard off in the distance, the few bots that were in the west wing gave each other side eyes and looked to Ratchet in concern. "Motherfucker!" A human voice yells. "Which one of you fuckers have been tampering with my car!, there's rust on it and I know for a fact that it's one of you!" They point at the mechs, not enjoying whatever prank they were playing on them.

Ratchet startles at the sudden shouting, nearly dropping the tool in his servo. He whirls around with a scowl as he hears the angry human accusing his comrades. "Now you listen here!" Ratchet growls, stomping towards the shouting human while waving a wrench menacingly. "I won't tolerate that kind of language or baseless accusations in my medbay! If you have a problem, you can bring it to me in a civil manner and we'll get to the bottom of it. But bursting in here, hurling insults, will get you nowhere!" 

The old medic glares down at the human, grip tightening on his wrench. "So I suggest you calm yourself and explain what exactly is going on with your vehicle, without all the colorful language if you please."

They let out a collection of angry noises, but all the other mechs are dead silent and still as they watch Ratchet and the human in their standoff. First Aid watching the showdown in slight excitement. "My car has some sort of alien rust in the undercarriage and it's spreading rapidly! There was nothing there two days ago!" They spit out as they cross their arms. 

Ratchet frowns, lowering his wrench as he listens to the human's explanation. Rust spreading rapidly on an Earth vehicle was definitely odd and concerning. He nods, "Alright, let's take a look at this rust and see what we're dealing with." Ratchet gestures for the human to show him the affected car. As they walk, he glances around suspiciously. This had the makings of some kind of prank pulled by one of the more immature mechs in the base. But he wouldn't make any accusations until he saw the damage himself.

"What kind of car is it?" Ratchet asks conversationally as they walk. He was still grumbling inwardly about his clinic being disturbed, but he pushed that aside to focus on the task at hand. Strange rust required his full attention. They state the make and model, its mileage. Until they reach the area where the rest of the humans who frequent the base had their vehicles parked. "Right there, any idea what's caused the rust or what shit head decided to tamper with my car? " they call out while pointing to their car.

Nothing on the outside gave any signs of rust but Ratchet knew better than that, and he was now having suspicion on what it might be. But why was it on their vehicle? The human lifts the hood of the car showing the advancing rust. Ratchet's optics widen as he gets a closer look at the vehicle and recognizes the telltale signs of IRD. 

He shakes his helm, rubbing his temples where he can feel a processor ache coming on. "Primus give me strength," he mutters under his breath. Turning back to the human, Ratchet's  tone drops into the stern doctor voice. "This appears to be a case of IRD - Interfacing Rust Disease. A...cybertronian STD, in layman's terms." 

Inside, Ratchet cringes. This was not a conversation he ever wanted to have with one of the humans. But the rust had to be stopped before it spread further. "I found rust on my car, I thought the twins thought it might have been a good idea to prank me with something." They begin rambling before they stop, processing what he had said. "Wait, wait your telling me a Cybertronian fucked my car!" They nearly yell, catching the attention of men and mechs around the Ark.

Ratchet holds up his servos in a calming gesture as the human begins to yell again. "Easy now, no need to make a scene," he says evenly. "It appears one of the, ahem, friskier mechs around here took a liking to your vehicle's make and model. It's not unheard of." Ratchet shakes his helm and sighs. "I know you're angry, and you have every right to be. But right now, we need to contain this outbreak. IRD can spread quickly if left unchecked. I need to do a full scan on your vehicle and start tracking down the original carrier."

He gives the human a sympathetic look. "I promise I'll buff out any lasting damage once the rust is treated. And I'll be having strong words with whichever mech defiled your car.For now, let's get your vehicle into quarantine. The sooner I can analyze the strain, the sooner we can get it treated” They huff and grumble before sighing. "OK just please fix it, I'll see if Red alert has any info, I know he likes having hidden cameras around the place, but what happens if it didn't happen in the base?" They finally ask.

"I know it's not ideal, but it's the quickest way to track down the source. Once I analyze it, I have my suspects narrowed down considerably. Just try not to think too hard about the methods, yes?" He gives the human an apologetic shrug. "I've been a medic for a long time, not much phases me anymore. Rest assured I will handle this professionally. Now, let's get your vehicle into isolation before this rust spreads further."

__________

Optimus Prime

Ratchet looks over the list of Autobots scheduled for their medical checkups with a weary sigh: It was going to be a long day examining everyone for signs of the IRD outbreak. But it had to be done swiftly to contain it. Ratchet grabs his tools and sterilizes the med bay berths before coming his first patient. "Optimus Prime, please report to the medbay for your routine examination."

This was going to be uncomfortable, but Ratchet was a professional. He would handle the examinations with his usual detached bedside manner. Still, he cringes inwardly at the thought of inspecting his commanding officer and friend for interfacing rust. This IRD outbreak was turning out to be quite the embarrassing hassle.

Optimus Prime makes his way to the medbay, a slight sense of unease stirring within him. He has the utmost trust in Ratchet's expertise, but he still didn't enjoy trips to the medical clinic; the medic's solemn tone does not escape his notice. As he steps Into the medbay he meets Ratchet's gaze. "Ratchet, what seems to be the issue?" Optimus inquires, his deep voice rumbling with a mixture of concern and curiosity. He knows the medic would not summon him without good reason, and he braces himself for whatever news or examination Ratchet has in store.

"Optimus, thank you for coming promptly. Please, have a seat on the berth." He gestures to the examination table. Optimus complies, seating himself on the berth and looking at Ratchet expectantly. The medic takes a moment to steady himself before meeting his leader's gaze.

"I'm afraid we have a sensitive situation. There has been an outbreak of IRD . I need to examine everyone on base thoroughly so we can identify and contain the source." Ratchet watches Optimus closely for his reaction, knowing this would likely be as uncomfortable for the Prime as it was for him. But it had to be done.

"I know this is far from an ideal, old friend. But I promise to handle this professionally and with the utmost discretion. We need to stop this outbreak from spreading further, I apologize for the invasive nature of this. But I'm sure you understand the necessity, for the health and safety of all in the Ark."

Optimus listens to Ratchet's explanation, his expression shifting from concern to a tinge of embarrassment. The mention of an "Interfacing Rust Disease" immediately puts him on edge, knowing the intimate nature of the condition. He clears his vocalizer before responding, his deep baritone vocals betraying a rare hint of discomfort. "I see. This is indeed a delicate matter." Optimus pauses. As much as he wishes to avoid such an intrusive examination, he recognizes the imperative need to contain this outbreak.

With a solemn nod, he meets Ratchet's gaze, his optics conveying his trust in the medic's abilities. "You have my full cooperation, old friend. I understand the necessity of this procedure, and I will submit to your examination without reservation."

Optimus shifts slightly on the berth, steeling himself. The medic collects his scanners and tools, then turns back to Optimus. "I'll start with a full frame scan, then move on to a more thorough examination of your interface array and surrounding mechanisms."  Ratchet starts slowly waving the scanner over Optimus from head to toe, watching the readings closely. So far just the expected baseline readings, but the detailed inspection had yet to begin.

"Try to stay relaxed, this next part will require closer contact but I'll maintain your modesty as much as possible." Ratchet keeps his tone clinical. With great care and precision, he manipulates Optimus' interface paneling, checking around seams and crevices for any early signs of corrosion or rust deposits. The examination is intimate but the medic remains focused on monitoring for any anomalies.  

After long kliks of awkward but necessary handling, Ratchet steps back with a relieved vent of air. "All clear, the scans and physical examination show no signs of infection. Thank you, I know it wasn't pleasant." Optimus gives a slight nod before leaving in a hurry, most likely to go hide away in his office and try to bury himself in work. 

_________

Ironhide

 his next patient one that Ratchet wasn't looking forward to, Ironhide. 

Steeling himself, Ratchet comms the gruff old warrior. "Ironhide, please report to the medbay for your routine examination."

It isn't long until heavy pedesteps signal the Weapons Specialist's reluctant arrival. "This better be quick, Doc, I've got a shooting range session with the Youngsters." Ironhide rumbles impatiently. 

"Have a seat on the berth and we'll get started." Ratchet gestures brusquely, in no mood to argue. Ironhide huffs but compiles, seating himself on the exam table with a glower. "Alright, let's get this over with."

“There has been an outbreak of IRD . I need to examine you thoroughly so we can mark you off the list of potential carriers” Ratchet starts while moving about. Ironhide immediately bristles. "Rust in my interface array? No chance!" He slides off the berth, waving a dismissing hand. "I'm clean as a whistle, Doc, don't need any exam."

Ratchet rubs his temples. This was going to be even more difficult than he thought. "Now hold on, Ironhide. I know this is uncomfortable, but we have legitimate evidence of an IRD outbreak on base. Just this morning, we found rust deposits on a human's vehicle consistent with trans-species transmission."  

Ironhide's optics widen slightly but he remains skeptical. Ratchet continues firmly. "Which means one of our mechs is infected and interfacing indiscriminately. We need to identify and contain the carrier immediately before this spreads further."  

"I explained the sensitivity of the situation to Optimus and he complied with an examination without hesitation, for the good of the team. I ask that you do the same." Ironhide shifts on his pedes, looking distinctly uncomfortable at the mention of Optimus' exam. He grunts reluctantly. "Fine, Doc. If it's that serious, I'll do it. But this better not leave the medbay, you understand?" 

Ratchet nods. "You have my word. Now please, have a seat so we can get started." After a moment's hesitation, Ironhide sits back down on the berth with a grumble. Ratchet thanks him and begins prepping his scanners, hoping the worst of the arguing is over. Ironhide was prickly but ultimately reasonable, once the gravity of the situation got through his thick helm.

Ratchet's spark sinks as the test results come back positive for IRD. Ironhide...is the carrier? He meets the gruff mech's optics with a grave expression.

" Ironhide. You are infected with an active IRD strain." Ironhide looks stunned, then reddens in embarrassment and anger. "That's impossible! I haven't-" He cuts himself off, glancing away shiftily.

Ratchet's optics narrow. "Ironhide, this is serious. IRD could devastate our already small numbers if left unchecked. I need you to be honest with me, how long have you had a Rust deposit?."

Ironhide won't meet his gaze, shuffling on the berth. Finally he mumbles "...about 4 human weeks now..." Ratchet vents harshly, displeased but unsurprised at the admission. "Alright. Well now we know the source. I'm putting you in quarantine until we flush your systems and you're no longer contagious." 

Ironhide starts to protest but Ratchet cuts him off with a sharp wave of his wrench. "No arguments! This ends now before someone gets infected! Honestly Ironhide, I'm glad it wasn't one of our own you infected but use your processor Mech!"

Ratchet vents tiredly, glad to have identified the carrier but dismayed it was someone as respected as Ironhide. This would be an awkward truth to contain...

"So...lonely and bored, hm? No one around to 'interface' with you properly?" Ratchet asks with a raised optical ridge.  Ironhide scowls, embarrassment rolling off him in waves. "Ah lay off Doc, you know how it gets."

Ratchet chuckles. "I certainly do. Still, you couldn't find a nice mech to 'transfluid transfer' with instead of that poor human's car?, i guess at least you haven't transferred it to an9ther mech which is a relief, "

Ironhide looks even more flustered, if possible. "It...seemed like a good idea at the time," he mumbles lamely. Ratchet just shakes his helm. "You have no idea how angry they were to find 'rust deposits' all over the undercarriage." Ironhide covers his faceplates with a groan. "Yeah, yeah, laugh it up Doc. I fragged up.”

"At least my interface drive still works properly for my age, unlike some rusted old medics I know..." Ironhide grumbles under his breath. Ratchet snorts, unmiffed. "Oh please, my spike is plenty calibrated, I just prefer not to wear it out like some mechs."

"Is that what you tell yourself?" Ironhide retorts with a smirk. 

"Better than what you tell yourself every lonely night in the berth, i have a conjunx" Ratchet fires back smoothly.

Ironhide barks out a laugh at that. "Alright alright, enough banter at my expense. Just fix me up."

________________________

Ratchet vents slowly, steadying himself for the next examination. "Jazz, please report to the medbay." After a few kliks, the saboteur strolls in as if he had been waiting near by, visor bright and a casual grin on his faceplates. "Wassup, Doc bot? Ya called for me?"

"Have a seat, Jazz." Ratchet gestures to the berth, then launches right into explaining about the IRD situation, knowing Jazz would not take gentle persuasion. Jazz's visor flashes in surprise. "Woah, rusty spikes? Ain't heard of that in vorns..." He trails off, then shrugs and hops up on the berth without further prompting. "Go ahead and scan away, Ratch. Gotta do what ya gotta do."

Ratchet nods, mildly surprised but grateful for Jazz's easy cooperation. He proceeds with the examination, starting with a full frame scan. Jazz stays still and quiet, visor following Ratchet's movements curiously but no wisecracks or questions. The scan is clear, so Ratchet moves on to the intimate inspection. Jazz doesn't even flinch as his paneling is manipulated, seemingly unaffected by the awkwardness of the situation.  

In short order, Jazz is also cleared and hops off the table. "All good, Doc bot?" At Ratchet's confirmation, Jazz nods and shoots him a finger gun gesture. "Glad to help out. See ya around!" And he departs as smoothly as he arrived.

Ratchet shakes his head wryly. Leave it to Jazz to take even the most uncomfortable exam in stride. He logs the results, then wearily calls the next bot on his list...

As Jazz turns to leave after his examination, Ratchet calls out to him.

"Jazz, hold on a moment. I have something else I wanted to ask you, regarding...personal matters." Jazz pauses and looks back over his shoulder, visor glinting curiously. "Oh yeah, Doc? What's on your processor?" Ratchet shifts a bit, unsure how to broach the subject delicately. Finally he decides the direct approach is best. 

"It's about you and Prowl. I know you two are...close." Ratchet raises an optic ridge meaningfully. "I want to be sure you are taking proper precautions, especially with this IRD outbreak happening." Jazz's visor brightens in understanding and he chuckles. "Me and Prowler? We're careful, Doc, don't you worry. Been together a long time now, we know how to mesh safely."

His voice takes on a more serious tone as he adds "But I appreciate you lookin' out for us. Wouldn't want my mech getting scrambled spike, you feel me?" Ratchet nods, satisfied with Jazz's answer. "I had to be sure. This outbreak could spread rapidly if we don't contain it. But I trust you two have things in hand."

Jazz gives him a casual salute. "You got it, Ratch. We'll be extra careful for now. Thanks for the check-in." With a parting wave, Jazz saunters out of the medbay. Ratchet watches him go, glad to have confirmation the two officers are being responsible. Now, time to call in the next bot.

______________

If Jazz has IRD

Ratchet's optics widen in dismay as Jazz's test results come back positive for IRD. The easygoing saboteur was the last bot he'd expect to be a carrier, but the evidence doesn't lie. "Jazz, I need you to return to the medbay immediately. Your test came back positive."

Jazz almost bolts into the medical bay, visor flashing in worry  "Positive? But how, i'm positive i aven't got any rust build up or nothin!" Ratchet frowns. "Be that as it may, you are infected and contagious. We need to start you on aggressive anti-rust treatments right away."

"Try to remember any recent interfacing partners, no matter how casual. Tracking the source is key to stopping this." Ratchet says gravely as he starts spraying Jazz down. Jazz looks thoughtful as Ratchet questions him about recent partners. "Honestly doc, it's just been me and Prowler for vorns now. We're exclusive as they come."

Ratchet frowns. "But the rust had to come from somewhere. Are you sure you haven't interacted with anyone else, even casually?" Jazz shakes his helm. "Nah mech, I got all I need with my Prowler. I ain't cheated on him or fooled around."

Ratchet vents heavily. "Then I don't understand how you contracted this, unless..." His optics widened in realization. Jazz looks at him curiously. "Unless what, doc bot?"

"That human's vehicle...did you and Prowl get intimate anywhere near it?" Ratchet asks pointedly it wasn't uncommon to pick up a rust stain from a random object, even more common on earth had the car had rust beforehand and now it had progressed to IRD due to Jazz catching it.

Jazz's visor brightens as his mouth hangs open remembering. "Ohhh scrap!" Ratchet sighs, pinching his nasal ridge. "You two need to be more careful where you interface!"

_____________________________

Prowl

A short while later, Prowl enters the medbay, doorwings held high and posture straight as always. "You wished to see me, Ratchet?" Ratchet gestures to the exam berth. "Have a seat, Prowl. I'm sure Jazz informed you of the situation."  

Prowl's doorwings twitch slightly as he perches on the edge of the berth. "Yes, he briefed me on the details. An uncomfortable circumstance, but a necessary precaution."

Ratchet nods, relieved Prowl is being reasonable so far. "I appreciate your understanding. I'll be as quick and professional as possible."

Prowl simply inclines his head in acceptance. "Do what needs to be done, Ratchet." 

When the test comes back positive it has Ratchet rather stunned as he looks at Prowl. Thinking it had to be a glitch in his system. Was Prowl the culprit? Or had Jazz had it and given it to him. Had one of them interfaced with the car that was currently riddled with IRD. 

Nonetheless, the results don't lie. Ratchet leans heavily on the console, processor racing over how to handle this sensitive situation. Rubbing his temples, Ratchet looks over to the SIC. "Prowl, your test came back positive. You have interfacing rust disease." 

Prowl's optics flare in shock before he regains control of his expression. "That...cannot be. There must be some mistake." Ratchet shakes his helm before walking over with the results  "I ran it twice. You are infected." He fixes Prowl with a stern look. "I need you to tell me exactly how this might have happened."

Prowl is silent for a long moment, gaze darting away in what Ratchet swears is guilt before he finally speaks. "There was...an incident off-base. With a civilian vehicle. I believed it to be unoccupied at the time. I wasn't aware it was one of the humans on base until cycles Ago" 

Ratchet vents harshly. So his suspicions were correct. This is a serious breach of conduct from the normally uptight SIC. "Alright Prowl, listen closely. I will keep this discreet and between us, no one else is to know of this.  Here's what we are going to do..." Ratchet outlines the treatment plan, quarantine procedures, and future disciplinary action for Prowl's conduct. It's an incredibly awkward conversation, but a necessary one to contain the spread of this outbreak.

___________________________

The twins Sunstreaker & Sideswipe

Ratchet vents heavily as he checks his list and sees the next two names: Sunstreaker and Sideswipe. The dreaded "terror twins", as the other Autobots called them. This was one exam Ratchet was not looking forward to in the slightest. Still, it had to be done. Best to get them both in and out as quickly as possible.

"Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, report to the medbay immediately." Ratchet commend. 

Eventually the twins stroll in, Sunstreaker looking irritated and Sideswipe with a cheeky grin. "What's up Doc Bot? You rang?"

Ratchet crosses his arms. "Have a seat, both of you." He states before they comply, Sunstreaker growling and hissing at Sideswipe to stop bouncing around. Ratchet launches into explaining about the IRD outbreak, and is met with predictable outrage.

"No way am I letting you poke around down there!" Sunstreaker shouts, while Sideswipe just cackles. Ratchet rubs his temples as a processor ache builds. It takes nearly a full lecture and argument before he finally convinces them to submit to the exam. 

"One more thing. The contamination we detected was on a human's vehicle. I need to know if either of you have been...interfacing...with any of the indigenous population's machinery."

Sunstreaker and Sideswipe freeze, optics wide. Then they immediately round on each other. "It was you, wasn't it!? Couldn't keep it in your spike plating around the fleshies!" Sunstreaker shouts accusingly at Sideswipe. He knew Sideswipe got along well with the humans even on occasions flirting with them. 

"What!? I don't go near those cars!" Sideswipe retorts. "You're the one with all those weird kinks, I bet you fragged one of their cars!" He argues back pointing a digit at the golden yellow mech. The two descend into bickering and shoving as Ratchet looks on incredulously. Finally he steps between them with a roar.

"Enough! It doesn't matter which one of you glitches did it, the fact is it happened! If I find out you two have been violating the humans' vehicles again, I'll weld your spikes to your afts!"

Ratchet vents harshly, anger simmering through his lines. He makes a mental note to examine the security footage, determine which twin was the likely culprit, and recommend punishment to Prowl. 

As he runs the test the two mechs bicker and make fun of each other. Pointing out paint marks and such as Ratchet takes samples and runs scans. "Hold still, you glitch!" Ratchet snaps as Sideswipe squirms away while he's trying to take a sample. 

"Not my fault, Sunny's ugly face is putting me off!" Sideswipe cackles.

"You wanna see ugly? Look in the mirror, afthead!" Sunstreaker shoots back.

"What's this paint transfer on your thigh plating, Sideswipe?" Sunstreaker sneers. "Been grinding on the native's vehicles?"

"It's from that silver firebird we raced last week, spikesucker!" Sideswipe retorts. "At least I can get some action, unlike you!" Ratchet finally loses his patience. "Enough! One more word out of either of you and I'll dismantle your vocalizers! Now sit still and shut up so I can finish this!"

The twins fall sullenly silent under Ratchet's withering glare. Ratchet vents harshly and continues the invasive examination. Finally the console beeps with the analysis complete. Ratchet checks the results and vents harshly, spinning to face the twins with a thunderous look. "One of you glitches IS infected! These sample results just came back positive for IRD!"

________________________

Sideswipe  with IRD

The twins go still, optics widening in shock. Sideswipe immediately points at Sunstreaker. "I knew it! It's gotta be him!" "What!? Don't try to pin this on me, I'm clean!" Sunstreaker shoves Sideswipe Hard. 

Ratchet steps between them again. " We'll have to run targeted scans on your interface arrays to isolate whichever one of you is the carrier." Both twins squirm at that but grudgingly comply with the invasive scans. After tense kliks, the results finalize - and it's Sideswipe that tests positive.

Sunstreaker crows in triumph while Sideswipe whines "No way, that's impossible!"

Ratchet crosses his arms sternly. "The scans don't lie. Sideswipe, you have some explaining to do. And we need to start containment and treatment immediately before you spread this any further."

Sunstreaker hovers nearby, arms crossed and expression stony. He refused to leave his twin's side despite not being infected himself. Finally Sideswipe breaks the silence in a small voice. "Am I gonna be okay, Doc? This isn't gonna like, permanently damage me right?"

Ratchet vents softly. "You'll be fine, Sideswipe. The contamination is surface-level on your equipment. I can flush your lines and replace the infected components, the rust hasn't set in to seriously"

Sideswipe relaxes slightly. "Oh good. Cause I can't be my irresistible self if my spike doesn't work right, you know?" He laughs weakly. Sunstreaker just huffs. "This is what you get for not being more careful where you stick that thing." "Yeah yeah, lecture me later." Sideswipe waves a hand dismissively. "So how long am I gonna be quarantined, Ratch?"

"At least 2 orns." Ratchet replies. "To allow sufficient time for the decontamination and replacement procedures, and ensure you are no longer infectious." Sideswipe groans dramatically but doesn't argue further. Ratchet finishes sealing off the area then starts preparing for the intensive but necessary treatments. He shoots Sideswipe a wry look. "Let this be a lesson to you in safe interfacing from now on."

As Ratchet starts Sideswipe's treatment, he gives the frontliner a stern look. "What in Primus' name possessed you to interface with one of the humans' vehicles anyway? You know that's strictly prohibited."

Sideswipe squirms. "I dunno, I was overcharged one night after a party and that sleek little sports car was just sitting there, seemed like a good idea at the time." Sunstreaker smacks his brother up the back of the helm. "You idiot! I can't believe you were so stupid." He glares accusingly at Sideswipe. "This better not get us thrown in the brig, I am NOT sacrificing my time or getting benched for your depraved actions."

"Ow! Okay okay, I'm sorry!" Sideswipe rubs his helm sullenly. "It was a dumb thing to do. But come on, you can't say you've never been tempted to fool around with any of their hot rides." He yelps as Sunstreaker smacks him again. "Don't even try to drag me into this. Just accept you're a moron and be glad Ratchet can fix your mess."

___________________________

Sunstreaker with IRD

"Well well, looks like we found our culprit." Ratchet gives Sunstreaker a withering look. "You've got some explaining to do, mech." Sunstreaker scowls defensively. "It's not my fault! How was I supposed to know those 'Cons had rusty spikes?" 

Ratchet vents harshly. "You were interfacing with Decepticons? Are you glitched in the helm!?" Sideswipe cackles gleefully. "Ooooh Sunny's in trouble! Who'd you 'face, the Constructicons?"

Sunstreaker's plating flushes with energon. "No! It was just the stunticons, alright!? Motormaster said they were clean!" Ratchet resists the urge to bang his helm on something. "Of all the idiotic, reckless....do you have any idea how dangerous this is!? For you, for everyone on this base?"

He jabs a finger at Sunstreaker. "You are confined to quarters until I sort this out. And if I find you've endangered anyone else with your stupidity, I'll have you in the brig faster than you can say ‘Mercy’!" 

Sunstreaker looks properly chastised, mumbling apologies “I need to know exactly which Stunticon you were with." Ratchet huffs out optics staring Sunstreaker down. Sunstreaker stops, shoulder plating hunching as he looks back with a sullen expression. "Do I have to say? It's embarrassing."

Ratchet crosses his arms, entirely unmoved. "You brought this on yourself with reckless behavior. I need all the details to contain this outbreak. Now tell me, who was it?"

Sunstreaker mumbles something inaudible, scowling at the floor. Ratchet's optics narrow. "Speak up!"

Finally Sunstreaker spits out "Breakdown, alright! We've been meeting up sometimes after battles. But he said they were all clean! And i got frisky with one of the sports cars on Base is that what you want to know!" Ratchet vents harshly, shaking his helm. "First rule of dealing with Decepticons - never take them at their word. You're damn lucky to only have IRD and not something worse. And damn lucky i can fix that car you scuffed up" 

He points sharply at the door. "Now get out. You're confined to your quarters until I clear you." Sunstreaker ducks out swiftly, plating still flushed in embarrassment. Ratchet logs the details with another heavy sigh. ___________________________________________________

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[lumpywhump]

Tw: noncon drugging

Living weapon A meeting living weapon B.

In A's eyes are a bone-deep tiredness that can only been noticed by another weapon.

A and B waiting for medical attention after an intense mission. Them lying against each other, one trying not to fall asleep, the other trying not to cry.

A and B forming a silent bond after their handlers working together for a long time. And A finds out that B and their handler had left. Trying to control their emotions when they realize they never got to say goodbye.

A waking to B's screams every night, knowing that they're not allowed to help B. Some nights it's worth the resulting punishments.

A having to watch B being drugged and delirious from a punishment. Watching B's cries while knowing that their handlers are watching them. A getting beaten for sobbing when B cries out for them.

A and B constantly having to preform emergency medical treatments on each other. Not having the proper tools and their only experience with it was when a doctor did it to them.

A and B sharing a room and staying up late together while trying to deal with their trauma.

Handler swap!? It's just a chill training day and the handlers decide to swap weapons for a day, see how it goes! They definitely wont come crawling back to their old handler begging them not to give them to the other handler. And both weapons apologizing for how awful their handlers are.

A and B are always given their meals together. A is always still hungry and B always gets full quickly. Sharing is caring after all!

A being extremely broken and B still being a defiant asshole. A watching B get slapped around for their sarcasm and begging for B to stop. A trying to teach B what to do and what not to do and helplessly watching as B breaks all the rules. A fearing that they might get punished for to being able to keep B in check. Eventually, A planning an escape attempt and inviting B with them. Their heart breaks as head B's refusal. "No, there's no point, we're just weapons,"

B preventing A from picking at their healing wounds.

A and B are together 24/7, they don't have anything else to talk about, they just enjoy the other's silent presence.

The pair planning an escape attempt.

The pair being separated when their handlers catch them.

"My weapon has never acted like this! Yours is a bad influence!" "No! Mines never had any feelings or wants till yours came around and ruined them!"

Because A and B are always together, they catch the same illness and are useless until they recover.

A and B curling up in the same bed "for warmth." That's what they'll tell their handlers at least...

[lordgrimoire]

So, an Idea, or AU I had regarding the good ol DPxDC.

I’m not sure what sort of disaster Amity’s ghost problem would be classified as, but think of what would happen if the local EMS (Emergency Services like Fire Departments, Law Enforcement, Emergency Medical, etc.) pretty much started jumping over the Mayor from the get-go? What if hard proof of these hijinx, for a brief time, were able to get out of Amity?

Well the Governor would probably have someone take a look, and once nonsense is confirmed (especially of its weird nonsense that looks a little to close to supers) they send in the National Guard, at first to keep an eye on the situation.

Then comes the Ghost Investigation Ward, and things go from moderately worrying to “WTF” real quick. And things start looking less Small Town USA and more Stalins Town USSR, at the height of Stalins Purges.

Admittedly it’s not immediate, and during the time between being put on “Indefinite Alert” and actually being relived this unit (I’m thinking a Battalion Sized force so about 1,200 soldiers/guardsmen total) ends up befriending the locals, and much to the Mayor, and GIWs, frustration, Phantom, as well as Red Huntress.

This leads to a standoff, the GIW can really only do what they want because of the Governments permission for them to do so, but engaging National Guard, who had not been federalized, may cause an issue or two. So they bring up the issue with someone who they think will back them up, their new boss Lex Luthor.

Now Lex isn’t a fool, but he figures out how the Justice League isn’t being called is due to a jammer the GIW set up and figures he can take a look around incognito like, or more accurately get trusted members of The Goonion, who he had Federally given approval to, to go take a look around.

When Alex gets the full story, and not just the GIWs original story but also updated info from the Doctors Fenton, who are now VERY worried, because they were wrong about Ghosts in more ways than they originally thought they may have been. Suffice to say, when Lex manages to get a copy of "The History of The Infinite Realms" and finds that Krypton's Afterlife is GONE, as in they did something similar to what the GIW is planning, he starts hitting the "Abort" Button with fury. Only to be told "Too late we're underway, we're going through a tunnel, what? What?" And now Lex decides Enough is Enough. Lex does two things, first he sends the GO order for the National Guard Battalion in Amity Park, then he starts trying to get a hold of the Justice League because "Listen I know you dislike me but I am willing to drop it all if you HELP WITH THIS BS THAT I JUST INHERITED!" Meanwhile back in Amity Things go from 0 to 100 faster than an Flash, that being the National Guard heard "GO" and immediatly started blasting. The Townfolks: Confused The Ghosts: Confused Team Phantom: Confused and Afraid The Ghost Hunters who are now studying Ghost Culture and the like: Very Confused and sorta getting Arrested. The GIW: Full of Bullet Holes, Screaming, and On Fire Meanwhile, The National Guard are waiting around two hours later with Phantom for any "Federal" News to come through: So the New President decided the Anti-Ecto Acts are BS, unfortunately they haven't been overturned yet so we're all most likely going to be marked as traitors. Mind if we hide out somewhere our bosses can't find us? Also the Justice League never actually knew any of the BS we've been going through, GIW Had some Jammer set up.

Phantom, Tired of all the damage and killing the GIW has caused in Amity Park: I'll try, but I'm not sure how much good it will do if the League shows up.

TLDR: Amity Park during it's entire run has a Battalion of US National Guard camped out in the outskirts/abandoned parts of town and they figure out most of the situation regarding Phantom not being the Villain Mayor Masters and the GIW Claim him to be. Following this logic they turned around and at the first opportunity attacked the GIW and pushed them out of Amity Park.