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downbadf0rficppl · 1 year ago

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always been you

Poe Dameron x F!Reader

Summary: Miscommunications happen. Less so when you work in communications, but they happen.

Word Count: 4.8K

Warnings: Slight blood warning, a smidge of angst, and a handful of smut :)

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Home meant different things to different people. To some, it meant green rolling hills and the sound of wild animals running through the forests, some hunting, some hiding. To some, it looked more like the cold cityscapes of somewhere like Corellia or Daiyu - where day could be night and night could be day because the city never slept. More like the planet never slept.

To you, home meant a dark room in the back of the compound on D'Qar, where you sat for hours on end. It meant the whirring of plane engines and the whooshing of blast doors. It meant ration meals and celebrating when there were enough jogan fruits in season to make jogan fruitcake. It meant the constant fear that someone you loved may not come home.

You had grown up on Dantooine, maintaining the old rebel base there with your father - an ex-pilot with the rebellion. He'd taught you all about the world of space flight and you'd decided early on that maybe you preferred the ground. Oh, the irony.

At 19, you moved to Coruscant - under no threat from enemies, the base on Dantooine was not needed. You moved away to find a job that could give a life of comfort. Maybe you just needed some excitement in your life that didn't involve exploding wires or stealing your dad's glasses.

When General Organa started recruiting for the resistance, you were one of the first ones there. You distanced yourself from your father's legacy, not wanting the pressure of being someone's someone to be held over your head.

You settled into the anonymity of comms comfortably, making decent friends with your co-workers.

Days came and went working for the resistance. Soon enough, you'd been for a year, and then 2, and then it had been so long since you'd left Dantooine that you could barely remember what your life was like there.

The cantina was empty when you walked in. To your knowledge, black and blue squadrons were out on a field mission, but no one else was in sight. You walked around the base, looking for any signs of life. Dear Maker, had they all evacuated and forgotten about you.

You walked over to the med wing, hoping to see someone. And you saw, well, everyone. Apparently, half of those on base had come down with food poisoning. Wonderful.

You were called in to speak with General Organa, who assigned you double and triple shifts, considering you were the only one of 6 comms officers who hadn't come down with food poisoning. Wonderful.

You had spent all day, without rest, in comms, checking data logs for gold squadron, assisting in decoding transmission, and helping base mechanics with routine repairs. Essentially a normal day in the office, but six-fold the responsibilities. You went to bed, with your head swimming with responsibilities for the next day - hopefully, someone would be able to help you.

You woke up to the sound of your alarm blaring loudly. You groggily headed to the cantina for a cup of Caf before heading back to comms.

You picked some undecoded transmissions, before starting on some reports for General Organa. You barely had enough time to stop for a meal, grabbing the first thing you could see before heading back to comms.

Black and Blue squadron were currently MIA. They had radioed in earlier in the morning saying they were ok without radio connection while there was a shortage of comms officers. Still, it didn't mean you weren't worried about them.

"Black Leader to Base, come in."

You scrambled over to your headset and plugged it into the system, "Alpha 4 to Black Leader, you're a go for Base. What seems to be the problem?"

"We're running low on fuel, any republic supporters in the outer rim?" Poe's voice came through as you tried to lock on to his location.

"Where you are, the chances are slim, Black Leader." You sighed, as his location pops up on the screen. He was so far in the Outer Rim, where so many remained Empire supporters. Even with many ports on neighbouring planets, there were few ways that they could make it out of them safely.

You had an idea. "Black Leader, can you make a single jump."

"Just about."

"I'll send the coordinates, get ready to jump."

While Black and Blue Squadron jumped, you connected another line.

"Hi, dad."

"Hi, sweetheart." Your father's tired voice rang through the headset, "What can I do for you?"

"I'm sorry to bother you, dad-"

"It's ok, sweetheart. What do you need?"

"I have 2 squadrons that need fuel. Any chance you could help?"

"Of course, sweetheart. In fact, I've just seen them enter the atmosphere."

"Thanks, dad. Love you."

"I love you too."

Your dad cut the line to go and help the pilots. You swallowed the lump in your throat. You always felt guilty asking your father for help. He never quite knew how to say no.

You stayed up well into the early hours of the morning, signing off paperwork and compiling mission reports for Captain Dameron and Captain Wexley to sign off on.

In fact, you had worked so late that you heard Black and Blue Squadron's land the next morning. You heard them raucously walk through the halls to the cantina. You sighed. A small break wouldn't do any harm, right?

Wrong. As soon as you got up, a beeping from your headset rang through the room. General Holdo needed some data to do with her mission, so you were back to sifting through mission reports to send her what she needed.

By the time, you had signed off with her, Jak (one of your fellow comms officers) strolled into comms.

He ruffled your hair affectionately, "You're a legend, four."

You had known Jak since your days on Coruscant. You had shared an apartment when you were new to the city and he really showed you the ropes. You probably wouldn't be as trusted by the resistance as you were, had it not been for Jak.

"How are you feeling?" You asked, eyes still trained on the screen.

"I'm fine." He settled down next to you, grabbing a headset, "You, on the other hand, have seen better days. Maker, have you even looked at yourself in the mirror!"

You punched him in the arm, "My name's not Captain I-cannot-survive-without-my-mirrors Dameron." He feigned an injury, falling onto the floor and hollering in pain. The delirium of sleep deprivation was getting you, as you doubled over in fits of giggles, tears streaming down your face.

In fact, you were laughing so hard, you didn't even hear Captain Dameron walk in.

"What's so funny?" He said, walking in and clapping Jak on the back. The two of you looked at each other, and burst into more fits of giggles. "You know what, I'm just not going to ask." Jak handed him the stack of papers that you had left for him to sign off.

Dameron walked out with the sheets, and you stood up to stretch your back. "You should get some food in you," Jak nods towards the Cantina, "I can hold the fort down until you get back."

The cantina is practically empty when you walk in, and you grab a sandwich before heading back to comms. What greets you is a relieving sight. Two of the other comms officers have returned to comms.

"You look rough," Drex said, nursing a healing tonic from med bay. Clearly, they were still suffering the after-effects of the food poisoning.

"So, I've been told," you elbowed Jak in the ribs as he laughed heartily. You sat down and returned to the paperwork you had left behind. A connection came in, which Jak responded to immediately.

After a beat, he beckoned you over, handing you the headset, "It's your favourite. Captain Dameron."

You let out a huff, before putting the headset on. You sat down.

"Alpha 4 for Black Leader, you're a go."

"Well, hello, my new favourite comms officer. How are you on this fine morning?" He said, smugness colouring his tone as he prepared to take off.

"I hope you aren't trying to flirt with me, Poe?" You smirked through your question.

"Oh, I am. I most definitely am." Poe laughed.

"How unfortunate for you." Poe laughed again.

You led him through his routine surveillance trip, making funny quips throughout. Poe responds almost exclusively through chortles and guffaws.

"How come I've never actually spoken to you on base?"

"I don't know, maybe because you've always got one of those pretty girls on your arm?"

"Oh, you're real pretty, Alpha 4, just gotta give me a chance, hun." Poe thought you were pretty.

You laugh again, "In your dreams, Captain."

There was a beat of silence, before Poe piped up, "someone special at home?" You swallow guiltily.

Ever since you first met Poe, you had been head over heels in love with him. Sure he was good-looking, and his reputation in the bedroom preceded him, but beyond that, he was charming, funny, and he cared. About everyone. Not just his superiors, or his friends, but even stupid kids who had no idea what they were doing when they landed on base.

You thought of his face, his beautifully warm brown eyes, his stupidly floppy hair, "Yeah, someone real special. I'm just hoping he'll give me a chance back on base."

"He'd be stupid not to."

"You're just saying that."

"I mean it, 4, he'd have to be blind to not see what a catch you are." You can tell by Poe's tone that he is being genuine.

"Thanks, Poe, you're clear to return to base. See on the other side."

You hear Poe land as you head back to your room. He calls your name as he is walking.

"Hey, 4, wait up!" You wait patiently as he, and BB8, catch up to you. "About this guy."

"Poe, let it go."

"I'm serious, 4. I can help you get that date."

"No, I mean it, Poe. Let it go. You can't help me here." You stare straight into his eyes. Big mistake. You get lost easily, wanting to let the warmth cocoon you into a false safety until the rest of eternity.

You shake yourself back to reality, walking away from him and leaving him confused and annoyed.

Days pass, and you find that Poe has pushed himself further and further away from you. You were still his chosen comms officer, but he avoided you on the base. You felt bad. He'd practically confessed that he thought you were pretty and you'd turned him away, letting him believe that there was someone you were pining after. Even though that person was Poe.

You had tried to talk to Poe before he went on a mission alone to Coruscant, but he walked away, feigning that he was busy. He even deflected your questions in the air, and turned his transmission signal off when he got to Coruscant. You were fuming.

How dare he put himself in danger with no chance of backup?

Realistically, your anger wasn't anger at all. You were worried for Poe. Even if he wasn't your Poe.

You vowed to have that conversation with him when he returned.

Poe couldn't stop thinking about you. He hadn't since he first spoke to you about 6 months ago. Before that, he just thought you were pretty. But once he realised that, not only were you beautiful, but you were also smart and had a sarcasm to match his, well he was a goner.

When you told him, that there was someone else, he saw red. He wanted to put his first through the fucker's face, but goddammit, he would do anything to help you.

So he offered to help you get that date. It was a mostly harmless offer, and he didn't really expect you to take him up on it, but he put it out there nonetheless.

What he didn't expect was for you to raise your voice and storm away. He was shocked.

He figured he overstepped some undrawn boundary, and he felt guilty. So he tried to give you space, give you distance. He'd give you anything if you even mentioned it once. But, jealousy took over his previously well-intentioned thoughts. If you wanted someone else, fine, you could have them. But Poe couldn't watch you get them.

He didn't want to take the mission on Coruscant. He wasn't a spy, he was a flamboyant and show-off-y pilot. But he didn't want to see you in another man's arms. So he took it.

That was what landed him in his current predicament: tied to a chair in the basement of one Zek Shadej - an ex-smuggler who turned to an arms dealership for the higher paycheck.

Zek slaps Poe. He demands, once again, to know what a pilot for the Resistance is doing at a gala for the low lives of the galaxy. He didn't word it that way but the sentiment still stands. Poe says nothing, just spitting a mixture of blood and saliva at Zek's shoes. Zek curses and heads to the door: "I'm done with him. Dispose of him."

The guards left in the room stalk toward him, blasters unsheathed and ready to fire. Poe uses the pin you gave him to cut through the ropes binding his hands.

It was his fifth birthday on base, he reckoned. With different systems, and different lengths of orbits, it was hard to know for sure, but he knew the rest of Black Squadron were planning his celebration for today. So he remained in bed, lying on top of the sheets, head propped up on his arm.

A gentle knock rang through his room. He'd told the person to come in, and you did. Armed with a giddy smile and a small wrapped package. Poe had no idea where you had found wrapping paper, or why you would buy him a present but here you were.

"Jess said it was your birthday today. Thought I'd give you something neat." You said, approaching him nervously. He swung his legs and sat upright, pulling your arm so you were standing right in front of him. He looks up at you through his eyelashes, taking in your kind face. You and Poe were hardly friends, but how he wished you could be more.

"So, what did you get for me, pretty girl?" Poe rests his callous hardened hands on your hips - he liked the feel of your soft skin under his palms. He also liked how sensitive you were to his touch - your flushed expression and lust-filled gaze confirmed it.

You handed him the small parcel, "I hope you like it."

He takes it from you, pulling you to sit beside him. He opens it with careful hands to find a small pin. A Yavin Parakeet. Poe's favourite bird.

"They used to symbolise freedom. Like you do." You whispered the last part.

Poe had never wanted to kiss you so much.

Poe threw the chair he had been sitting on at one of the guards. He landed on the floor with a loud groan, his blaster skidding to a halt at Poe's feet. It was Poe's lucky day.

He shot the other 2 guards, dashing out of the basement onto the catering floor. He escaped through a back door, a few of the staff giving his bloody face and dishevelled appearance a double look. He sprinted through the streets to a docking station a few miles east. Zek sent a few men after him, but Poe was smart, and he knew Coruscant well. He dodged the men, and fired up his X-wing. He had Leia's intel safely stored in his shirt pocket.

His X-wing was severely damaged - his landing gear compromised and the transmission antenna bent at an awkward angle. He took off precariously - he knew he'd have to stop somewhere to fix the ship and refuel. He remembered the old outpost on Dantooine. Your dad's outpost.

He lightspeed jumped into the sector, breaking through the atmosphere mere seconds later. The landing was rough and he saw your father running towards the ship, blaster raised.

"Come out, slowly and unarmed. Do anything I don't like the look of, and I shoot."

"It's me. It's Poe. I came by a couple of days ago. I promise I mean no harm."

The old man lowered his blaster. He tucked his shoulder under Poe and helped him inside, "Let's get you looked at, son." Despite the pain, Poe smiled. Son. He liked that.

Your father patched Poe up, offering him a nice meal and a shower. While Poe cleaned up, your father called you.

"Hey, dad, what can I do for you?" You respond, your brain still focussed on the transmissions you were decoding.

"I wouldn't call if it wasn't necessary-"

"I know, Dad. What do you need?"

"I got one of your guys," your ears pricked up, "and his ship is damaged. I need to know how to fix it. Think you can help?"

"Yeah, of course. I don't remember sending anyone your way though, think you can tell me who it is?"

Your dad grunts as he climbs up the ladder, radio tucked under his chin, "yeah, it's the pretty boy from a few days ago. The captain. Can't remember his name."

"It's Dameron. Who're you talking to?" Poe comes out wiping his hands on a towel. Despite this man being your father, years in the resistance had warned him against trusting strangers.

"My daughter. She's telling me how to fix your ship."

"4? I wouldn't trust her anywhere near my ship."

"I heard that you know," you laughed. You brought up the specs for the X-wing, "I'll send you a copy of the spec - that's probably more useful than anything I have to say."

Your dad laughed and you sent him the specs.

"Good luck, boys," you ended the transmission.

The rest of the day was spent fixing the ship. Poe and your dad made good small talk - they were both pilots. They had a lot in common. They also both loved you. They had that in common too.

"Go clean up, Poe. I'll make us dinner." Your father said, standing up and heading toward the kitchen. Poe smiled. He liked this life.

Poe was back on base by nightfall the next day. You waited for him as he got checked up on in med, and then you walked with him to his room. The silence was deafening.

You followed him into his room, watched his every movement. He milled about, putting on clean clothes, washing his hands, and combing through his hair. His whole body was still tensed up from the mission - you wanted to stop him, hug him, do something. But you couldn't. He didn't want you near him. He was angry at you, and rightfully so.

"Your dad's nice." You looked up at him. Poe still had his back turned, but his shoulder had relaxed. You wanted to run your fingers down his back. "Peculiar, but nice."

You smiled softly, "He's lonely. Not that fun living on an abandoned base in the middle of nowhere."

Poe sat down on his chair, and you walked towards him. You placed your hands on his shoulder, gently soothing the knots out of his muscles. He leaned his head back, a low moan of satisfaction left his throat. The sound went straight through your body, eliciting shivers.

"Talk to me. Tell me what went wrong," you whispered in his ear, not wanting to break the calmness that swept through the room.

Poe shook his head, bringing you in front of him. He leaned his head against your stomach, hands coming to rest at your hips. You tangled your fingers in his hair, and he grunted in appreciation. You shivered again.

He chuckled, "you like that?" Your face blushed a bright red. Poe laughed again, before leaning to kiss your stomach. He kissed up through the valley in between your breasts, and up your neck. He stayed there for a minute, nipping and suckling at your neck, before making his way to your face.

He was fully standing now, his hands moved to your face, and he gently dotted kisses everywhere. Your cheeks. Your eyes, which had fallen shut at his ministrations. Your forehead, then your chin. He kissed the sides of your lips, and you let out a soft moan, begging for more.

"Greedy, are we?" He asked, his voice much lower than before. You opened your eyes to see a smug grin painted on his face. You didn't care.

You grabbed his face and brought his lips to yours. It seems he got the memo because as soon as his lips touched yours, he took over. His tongue slipped into your mouth and stroked yours gently.

He tapped your thigh gently, a signal to jump, and he carried you over to his bed, depositing you on the edge gently, dislodging his lips from yours. He knelt down in front of the bed, pulling your closer to him by your legs.

"Tell me to stop." He looked up at you, his pupils blown wide, as he took your dishevelled appearance in. Like a predator looks at his prey.

"Please don't."

He pulled your boots and cargo pants off, kissing up your legs. The arousal pooled between your legs, and you moan.

"So fucking wet, and I haven't even touched you yet." You whine pathetically, trying to pull Poe closer to where you want him. He just laughs.

"Bet the other guy couldn't do this to you. That's why you need me, ain't that right?" You whine again, "Need me to take care of you, baby girl, ain't that right?"

"Please, Poe."

"Please what, baby girl? What do you need?" Poe whispers, cheekiness glinting in his eyes.

"Please, fuck me, Poe." He smiled.

"As you wish."

He pulled your underwear down your legs and stared enamoured between your trembling things, "Such a pretty fucking pussy."

You threw your head back as he dove face-first into your folds. He kissed your mound lightly, before rubbing soothing circles around your clit. You buck up, the pleasure unlike any you've ever known, and Poe presses a hand onto your abdomen, locking you in place.

"Don't deprive me of my meal, honey," He whispers into your pussy.

He continues his assault, testing the waters of what you did and didn't like. You liked when he went fast, when he went slow, you got impatient. Maybe it was time to teach you some patience. But the low whines and moans were too much for Poe to bear. Soon your thighs were clamped around his head as you let out a loud moan, and you came undone under his touch. He lapped up every last bit of your release as if he'd been left in the deserts of Jakku without any water for years. And the moans. Oh Maker, his moans. You thought it impossible for a man to enjoy himself that much. But from the way he gripped your thighs, and pulled his body in further, you could tell he never wanted to pull away.

You laid limp on the bed as Poe stood up, and peeled his clothes off his body. You stared shamelessly. It wasn't the first time you'd seen Poe shirtless, but you'd barred yourself from staring then. Now it was allowed.

He smiled at your shameless ogling, and grabbed your hand, pulling you to stand up, pressed against him. You could feel his still-clothed cock, pushing into your abdomen, and you could feel it throbbing at the contact. You sunk down onto your knees, hands fiddling with his zipper.

He pulled you away and shook his head. "Not now."

He pushes you back onto the bed and crawls over you, his lips reconnecting to yours. He had unzipped his pants and kicked off his boots, leaving a pile on the floor.

"Tell me if it hurts." Poe kisses under your jaw before pushing inside.

Holy Maker, he's big.

His cock stretches you out deliciously. He pushes into you until he's settled within you and waits for you to adjust. The initial pain fades into pleasure and soon you're begging for him to move.

"You sound so pretty when you beg, baby. Bet you wouldn't beg for anyone else." Nevertheless, he moves.

He starts slow, getting used to feeling you around him. You want more.

"Please, Poe. Faster. Please, please, please." You beg him, screams ripping through your throat.

He picks up the pace, relentless now. Fast and hard. The room filled with the sounds of skin slapping skin, mixed together with both your moans. You feel the pressure building up and your moans get louder. Poe chased his own release as you got closer and closer to the edge.

"Poe, I'm gonna... gonna come. Please, Poe..." Poe slowed down a fraction, pulling you further from the edge. You whined pathetically.

"Tell me you're mine. Only mine." You smiled through your lust-induced haze.

"Only yours, Poe. Always yours." He picked up the pace again, and the coil begins to tighten. Poe's moans push you over the edge, and you cum hard. So hard that your whole body feels electrified, your toes curling in pleasure. Poe fucks you through your high, turning your entire body to jelly. He pulls out and shoots his ropes over your body.

You smile. You lift a finger up to your chest and lick Poe's cum off your chest, moaning at the taste. The filth of the act clearly affected Poe, as his eyes closed in pleasure. He moaned lowly, grabbing your hands and pressing kisses to them. You closed your eyes, falling back onto the bed.

Poe disappeared into the refresher, grabbing a clean towel and dampening it, before returning to clean you up. You looked confused. No one had ever done that for you before. He wiped your chest and between your thighs, before carrying you to the bathroom. You washed your face and brushed your teeth with one of the spare toothbrushes in Poe's refresher, before heading back out.

Poe was gone.

You were confused, given that he had changed his sheets and left you a spare t-shirt and pair of boxers to change into. You sat down on the edge of his bed, stretching your legs, a pleasant ache settling between them. Where the hell could he have gone?

A few seconds late, someone knocked, "Are you decent?" Poe.

"Yeah, come in." You stood up, shuffling your feet. Poe walked in, shirt almost completely undone, carrying 2 bottles of water from the cantina. Your heart almost burst.

He opened one of the bottles handing it to you, before leading you back to bed. You took a few sips, the coldness soothing your throat that was raw from screaming.

He laid back on his bed and beckoned your closer to him. You curled into his arms and reached up to fiddle with his hair. You both sat in silent reverie - taking in each other's company.

"Will I see you again?" Poe broke the silence timidly, running a knuckle over your cheek.

"You see me every day, Poe," You tease him gently, "You see me in the corridors, and in the cantina, and sometimes even after you get back from a mission." Poe slapped your ass, causing you to burst into laughter. He pulls you closer to his body.

"I mean it. Is this just a one-time thing? Given your - um - crush on the other guy?" You stay silent, "Is he a pilot? Is that why you're not telling me?" You nod your head, trying to hide your smile. You felt bad for not telling him, but it was funny.

"He's a pilot. But that's not why I'm not telling you." Poe frowns, creases appearing between his eyebrows.

"Is he a superior officer? Does he live on base?"

You decide to keep teasing him, "Yeah, he's a Captain." You look into Poe's eyes. "He's definitely my favourite person on base." Poe's frown turns into a scowl.

"He has the most beautiful brown eyes and the most amazing hair that I always want to run my fingers through," You tangle your hair in his, pulling it just the way he likes. "He's cocky, and he's so sexy. And he knows that he's sexy too." Poe tries pushing you away, rolling from his side to his back, but you just cling to him tighter. You place a kiss on his jaw and then on his ear.

"Why are you here, then? In my bed? In my clothes?" He says, jealousy and annoyance evident in his voice. You feel bad.

"You wanna know his name?"

"Not really. Then I'd know who I wanna punch, but I still wouldn't be able to do it."

"I don't really think it's possible to punch yourself." Poe turns to face you, the jealousy in his eyes fading into hope.

"What?" You just smile. "You love me?"

"I didn't lie, Poe. I'm yours. Always yours." He kisses you, hard, not giving you any space to breathe.

"You're not just saying that," He breathes, pulling away just enough to speak. You reconnect your lips to his, and he pulls you on top of him, your thighs around his torso. You look deep into his eyes, his pupils so dilated as if he couldn't get enough of you.

"It's always been you."

fin.

buy me a coffee

#poe dameron fluff #poe dameron x you #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron fic #poe dameron #poe dameron fanfiction #poe dameron angst #poe dameron smut #x reader #poe fic #poe star wars #poe dameron x female reader #poe dameron x y/n #no y/n #poe dameron x f!reader

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stormy-river · 11 months ago

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Transcripts from the Humanity Hotline 7

As I finished this, I discovered it's been exactly one year since I posted the last Transcript. A lot has happened in that year; I've graduated college :) . I want to thank everyone for the support I've received, and I hope to get back into some of my creative projects and give you guys an opportunity to laugh, and maybe learn something. This one is inspired by a request from @a-romantic-twst from forever ago; I hope it was worth the wait (sorry about that). (It's about periods if anyone's uncomfortable with that and wants to skip this one.)

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Operator: "Hi, my name is Mindy. How may I help you today?"

Caller: "Hello, Mindy, I am very concerned about one of the humans on my ship."

O: "What seems to be the problem?"

C: "Well, I'm the chief medical officer and this particular human has been on the ship for just over two Earth months now. On two separate occasions during that time, she has requested strong painkillers citing 'Shark Week' as the reason. I looked into what 'Shark Week' is, and found an Earth television special about certain aquatic predators, and I'm unsure how that could cause a human physical pain lightyears from Earth?"

O: "Interesting, is there anything else you can tell me about this human during these events?"

C: "Yes, I've also received reports from other crewmembers around these events that this human is not as outgoing as usual, and shows signs of discomfort with facial expressions and changes in appetite, but does not respond well to the standard psychological protocols for team building and social connection."

O: "What about the timing? You said this has happened twice, correct? How much time was between them?"

C: "Yes, I've documented both with dates. The human requested the painkillers twice, 28 days apart. The crew reported signs of distress for a few days following each request, and two times in the day before the first request."

O: "Alright, I believe your human is using the phrase, "Shark Week" as a euphemism for the start of the menstrual cycle, which is often referred to as a 'period'. To put it simply, one of the female reproductive organs sheds its inner lining roughly once an Earth month, lasting anywhere from a few days to a full week."

C: "Similar to how the Rythyani shed and replace their stomach linings?"

O: "Yes, though the uterus has blood vessels that extend into that lining, so shedding also causes bleeding."

C: "Bleeding? How much blood is lost? Why has she not requested bandages or a transfusion?"

O: "For most, a period is not life-threatening. The amount of blood loss does not require a transfusion to replace, or bandages to stop, though iron deficiency may be a concern for some that can be easily remedied through their diet. Ultimately, your human will know her body and how to handle her cycle best. We learn to deal with periods from a relatively young age. You should have received a human anatomy and physiology textbook when the first human joined your crew. Do you have it?"

C: "Yes, though I do admit I have not yet had the time to read it."

O: "That's alright. The chapter on human reproductive systems goes into more detail about the biology of the menstrual cycle than I can tell you. For the time being, make sure your human knows that she can ask for support if needed, and inform your crew that not all humans will be happy all the time, and they don't need to be. Over time, you will gain a better understanding your humans' patterns. Until then, trust them to express their needs, and talk to them if you have specific concerns. I can give general advice, but they will know themselves best."

C: "Thank you for clearing up the confusion, Mindy, I will look into this and update the protocols as necessary. I have no more questions for you at this time."

O: "You are very welcome, please don't hesitate to call again if something else comes up."

End Transmission

#humanity hotline #humans are space orcs #humans and aliens #humans are weird

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transmutationisms · 11 months ago

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Feel free not to answer this ask so you dont have to step into this particular hornet's nest but do you have any thoughts about people sharing inaccurate science about COVID in order to push for more COVID regulations? I agree that COVID is being neglected and we need better policies but I'm also a biochemist so it pisses me off to see people cite research in a way that makes exaggerated and terrifying claims. Two years ago, I was warning my colleagues against this condescending "just trust the science" approach but now the same crowd pushing that has shifted to pushing "don't trust any of the positive science, only my catastrophic interpretations of it". Can't we mask without also trying to convince each other that COVID is a guaranteed one way ticket to death and permanent disability?

you must be new here haha i swing bats at this hornet's nest like once a month. yeah i think the current state of covid communication sucks a lot. i mean the truth is that "follow the science" is always a disingenuous sentiment; Science doesn't speak, and scientists disagree with one another. and it's naïve to pretend majority consensus is a reliable mechanism to identify truth—anyone who has followed the covid aerosolisation about-face will recall that although linsey marr was not the first researcher to challenge medical orthodoxy on airborne disease transmission, even well into the covid pandemic the idea of aerosol transmission was marginalised by global health authorities because it was politically inconvenient, out of favour with powerful established academics, and reminiscent to some of pre-pasteurian miasma theories of disease. those who would "follow the science" were not presented with a convenient dichotomy between reasonable evidence-backed expert consensus and fringe peddlers of heterodoxy; to evaluate these positions required actually, yknow, reading and evaluating the arguments and evidence from multiple competing positions, and deciding which had the greater explanatory power. which is good epistemological advice only insofar as it's so obvious as to be trite.

fundamentally a huge driving force of this situation is the social, political, and institutional forces that make expert knowledge (a generally good thing) all too often synonymous with inaccessible knowledge. i don't mean inaccessibility caused by knowledge being specialised; obviously this is inevitable to some extent simply as a result of the fact that no one person will grasp the entirety of human knowledge. but the fact that knowledge is specialised, specific, highly technical, and so forth doesn't automatically mean, for example, that it has to be monetarily gatekept from all but a select few with the resources to persevere through a highly punishing, nepotistic, hegemonic university system; this is a political problem, and one that additionally has the effect of enabling and sheltering low-quality work (see: replication crisis) behind the opaque walls of university bureaucracy and the imprimateur of the credentials it grants. in lieu of an ability to actually engage with, read, or challenge much of the academic research being generated on any given topic, the lay public is supposed to rely on signs of reliability like possession of a degree, or institutional reputation. what we in fact see again and again, and with particularly high stakes in the case of something like a pandemic, is that these measures are instruments of class stratification and professional jockeying that don't inherently ensure quality information: MDs can and do peddle anti-vaxx lies and covid / long-covid denialism; the CDC and WHO can and do perpetrate bad and outdated scientific advice, like that masks are unnecessary and isolation periods can be shortened for convenience. many of these are just blatant cases of kowtowing to political pressure, which arises from the capitalist logic that counterposes disease prevention to economic growth.

this all leaves us in a position where it is, in fact, smart and correct to evaluate the information coming from 'official' and credentialled sources with scepticism. the problem is that in its place, we get information coming out of the same capitalist state-sponsored scientific institutions, and the same colonialist universities; the idea that some chucklefuck on twitter is telling you the secret truth just because they correctly identified that the government sucks is plainly absurd. where covid specifically is concerned, the liberalism of academic and scientific institutions is on display in numerous ways, including the idealist assumption, which many 'covid communicators' make, that public health policy is primarily a matter of swaying public opinion, and therefore that it is always morally imperative to form and propagate the most alarmist possible interpretation of any study or empirical observation. this is not an attitude that encourages thoughtful or measured evaluation of The Science (eg, study methodology), nor is it one that actually produces the kind of political change that would be required to protect the populace writ large from what is, indeed, a dangerous and still rampant virus. instead, this form of communication mostly winds up generating social media Engagement and screenshots of headlines of summaries of studies.

meanwhile, actual public health policy (which is by and large determined at the mercy of capitalist state interests, and which by and large shapes public opinion of what mitigation measures are 'reasonable', despite the CDC repeatedly pretending this works the other way round), remains on its trajectory toward lax, open exposure of anyone and everyone to each new strain of covid, perpetuating a society that is profoundly hostile to disabled people and careless with everyone's life and health. this fucking sucks. it sucked that we have treated the flu like this for years, and it sucks that we are now doing it with a virus that we are still relatively immunologically naïve to, and that produces, statistically, even more death and disability than the flu. and it sucks that the predominating explanations of this state of affairs from the 'cautious' emphasise not the structural forces that shape knowledge production under capitalism, but instead invoke a psychological narrative whereby individuals simply need to be sufficiently terrified into producing mass action.

#michael hoerger hate blog #covid

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dahlingplease · 6 months ago

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GET ART BY ENCOURAGING THE FDA TO GREENLIGHT EFFECTIVE VACCINES

[image: A tweet from we_are_ssd reading "Please email all weekend and call on Monday. Tell them we want Novavax approval ASAP. Call and tell them to pass along your message. 1-800-835-4709 Email everyone here:

[email protected]

[email protected]" end image description.]

Hey, with kids in school the new COVID vaccine needs to come *now*. NovaVax, as seen in the linked study helps reduce transmission by stopping virus replication in the nose and mouth (upper respiratory systems).

https://www.science.org/doi/10.1126/sciimmunol.adg7015#:~:text=In%20addition%2C%20both%20Novavax%20vaccines,activities%20of%20the%20serum%20antibody

I'll be doing doodles to encourage people to mail and call, just please prove yourself with email screenshots and call logs if you can. Other artists, I encourage you to incentivize in the same way.

[images: pencil drawings

Image one: two young women standing next to each other, each wearing collared shirts. Above them they are labled "you" "me" and below them are the words "and our collared shirts"

Image two: A young man pats his younger self on the head and quips "wow what's this guy's problem?" The younger self sneers and mutters "ugh don't touch me." End image description]

Remember to block out personal information when sending proof. Everyone stay well!

#COVID conscious #vaccines #artists against covid #free art #art challenge

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dystopicjumpsuit · 11 days ago

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Bacara x reader? 👀

Yeah! Bacara x reader!

Nobody Loves Bacara

A/N: Why yes, this is the long-awaited companion to “Everybody Hates Neyo.” Usual disclaimers apply; Bacara and Neyo are the toxic twins of the GAR, and nothing about this interaction is healthy.

Pairing: Commander Bacara x Reader (Fem; has hair, daddy issues, a justifiably bad attitude, and a high body count)

Rating: M (mature content intended for readers 18+; minors DNI)

Wordcount: 3.6K

Warnings and tags: strong language; mutual antagonism; verbal/emotional abuse (surprisingly not by Bacara); smoking and/or drug use (depending on how you HC deathsticks); SMUT; anonymous sex; semi-public sex; unprotected PIV; fingering; oral sex; spitting; light degradation; rough sex; revenge sex; cum play; jokes about murder; DJ needs an exorcism

Summary: After witnessing an unpleasant interaction, an unknown clone offers to help you forget your problems.

Suggested Listening:

This fic smells like: Jasmin et Cigarette by Etat Libre d'Orange (cigarette smoke and an unused condom)

Masterlist | Sign up for my tag list

Marshal Commander Bacara leaned against the durasteel wall of a Republic base that officially did not exist, on a moon whose location was heavily classified, enjoying a rare moment of silence. He shouldn’t be out there, he knew—particularly not in the middle of the night, and particularly not without his armor. It was dangerous, exposed. It was also the first moment of Force-damned peace and quiet he’d had in weeks.

He gazed up at the stars, tracing the constellations that had been unfamiliar when he’d arrived, but which he now recognized with ease. The calls of nocturnal creatures echoed through the darkness, emanating from the forest grew densely up to the edge of the base. They weren’t likely to come near; not with the plasma fences set up around the perimeter. And so Bacara relaxed against the durasteel wall, finally enjoying some Force-damned peace and quiet.

Alas, the moment of tranquility was shattered as the small side door slid open and a woman stormed out, carrying a commlink.

“—can see your issues from a parsec away, and they avoid you like the blue shadow virus because you're so goddamn difficult! You are too farking broken for anyone to love—"

The transmission cut off abruptly as you flung the commlink to the ground and stomped on it until it shattered, then snatched up the pieces and hurled them into the darkness with an enraged scream.

“Kriffing scughole!” you snarled, your voice hoarse.

Bacara couldn’t quite suppress a huff of quiet amusement at your thoroughness in destroying the commlink, and you whirled at the sound.

“The kark are you?” you demanded.

“What, are you some tragic character from an old romance holoflick?” he asked. “No need to take it out on me because you got dumped.”

“What, are you some fuckin’ prick who likes to make people even more miserable than they already are?” you snapped back.

“No need to get your tits in a twist,” he said. “You can’t put on a show like that and expect me not to break out the Mantell mix. Just bein’ honest. You’d do the same.”

“No, I wouldn’t,” you spat. “I would never twist the vibroblade in a total stranger and justify it by calling it ‘honesty.’ That's not honesty, it's just sadism.”

“Don’t be an idiot,” he said, ignoring your growl of fury. “A sadist gets off on inflicting pain on other people.”

“Are you going to pretend you aren’t enjoying being a raging asshole to me?” you demanded.

“I might be enjoying it a little,” he admitted. “But that's not sadism.”

“Yes it is, you absolute—cabbage! That is exactly what sadism is.”

“I’d say ‘voyeur’ is more accurate in this case,” he remarked conversationally.

You arched a brow at him. “Are you saying you’re getting off on this?”

He blinked. “Wait, ‘cabbage’?”

“Not a denial,” you observed, your eyes flickering down his body. “Interesting.”

Dank farrik, he hadn’t been turned on before, but under your assessing glance, he felt his body respond. He shifted, turning to give you a better view. He wasn’t stupid; he’d heard the natties gossipping about the fit of the black body gloves the clones wore under their armor, and he was fully aware of just how little they concealed the anatomy.

“You like what you see?” he asked.

“I don’t see anything,” you said flippantly. “But there’s a microscope back in my lab.”

He stifled a laugh. “That was uncalled for.”

“Oh, now who’s a whiny little bitch with your tits in a twist? Are you gonna cry?”

He burst out laughing. “You know, I’m starting to like you.”

“Don’t tell me you’re a masochist, too,” you quipped, but your voice lost its hostile edge. “I kinda like you, too. It's fun to bitch you out. Nice to meet somebody who can serve it back to me instead of crying in the locker room.”

“That’s… suspiciously specific.”

You shrugged, not bothering to deny that you spoke from personal experience.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours,” you replied.

He tilted his head in acknowledgment, but didn’t respond. Your reticence didn’t matter. He recognized you now. You were one of the base’s medics; you looked different in civvies than in your usual drab medical uniform, but it was unquestionably you. He outranked you by so many degrees that it was laughable. There was no way you recognized him; otherwise you never would have dared address him so disrespectfully.

It was kind of sexy, actually.

You reached into your pocket and pulled out a packet of deathsticks. “Want a smoke?”

He looked down at the packet, which was extremely contraband and unquestionably his responsibility to confiscate and destroy.

“Yeah,” he said. You passed him the pack and lighter. “Thanks.”

He lit a deathstick and handed them back to you, and you leaned against the durasteel wall next to him as you lit your own and pocketed the pack.

You inhaled deeply. “So who’d you piss off to get stuck on this rock?”

“Mouthed off to the general,” Bacara lied. “He didn’t like it.”

You laughed quietly. “I hear you.”

“You got a story along those lines, too?” he asked curiously.

“Something like that.” You exhaled a long stream of smoke as you closed your eyes and tilted your head back.

He watched you, taking a moment to appreciate the graceful curve of your neck and the blissful expression on your face. “You’re hot, you know that?”

Your eyes blinked open in surprise, and you turned to look at him under lowered lashes. “You’re no slouch yourself. Too bad about your personality.”

You smirked, and he realized he was staring at your mouth. He looked away and took a long drag of his deathstick.

“So… what do you like to do for fun?” he asked somewhat awkwardly, wondering just how badly he was about to blow the whole conversation.

You didn’t reply immediately, and when he glanced to the side, he saw that he apparently wasn’t the only one with an oral fixation. He turned toward you and leaned in.

“I think you meant to give me an actual answer there,” he murmured.

You looked him dead in the eyes. “Clones.”

He paused. “... Excuse me?”

You shrugged, and somehow the movement brought you closer together. “You asked what I like to do for fun. The answer is clones.”

“What the kriff does that mean?” he asked, turning a little more toward you.

“Do I need to spell it out for you?”

“Yeah,” he said, glancing down at your mouth again. “You’re gonna have to spell it out for me.”

“It means,” you said, leaning closer, until he could feel the warmth of your breath on his lips, “I like…” Your gaze slowly traveled down his face. “to F. U. C. K. clones.”

Your tongue darted out to brush over his lips. Your touch was so light, and it happened so quickly, that he almost wouldn’t have believed it if his eyes hadn’t been riveted to that sexy, vicious mouth of yours. His breath stuttered.

“You, uh… do that often?” he asked. “With clones?”

You shrugged. “Everybody needs a hobby.”

“And yours is making love with random clone troopers on military assignment at the ass end of the galaxy?”

“‘Making love,’” you laughed. “You’re adorable.”

“What do you call it?” he asked.

“Fucking.”

“That’s a lot less poetic,” he observed.

“Truer, though.”

“Not as romantic,” he pointed out.

“Do I look like the romantic type?” you asked.

"Actually... yeah. Yeah, you kinda do. You're so damn pretty, and you got a look in your eyes like there's a whole world beneath the surface."

Your eyebrows snapped together as you met his eyes, and then you looked away.

“Of course,” he continued, “you also look like you’ll kick anyone’s ass if they tell you that.”

You stared out into the darkness as you took another long drag of your deathstick. “Where exactly do you think this is headed?”

“I have no idea,” he confessed, stroking his fingers under your jaw to tilt your face back toward him. “But I want it to go somewhere. Hopefully not toward an ass-kicking.”

“How about against this wall?” you suggested. “I could use a distraction.”

“I can work with that,” he said.

“Good,” you replied. “For a minute there I thought you were gonna get all sappy.”

You weren’t entirely certain why you found yourself drawn to the nameless clone. Force knew a hookup had been the last thing on your mind as you’d rehashed the same argument you’d been having for the past decade. You inhaled the last dregs of your deathstick, trying to ignore the way those cruel words echoed in your mind.

“Too farking broken for anyone to love.”

You dropped the butt of the deathstick into the dirt and ground it beneath your heel though you could extinguish the hurt along with the embers.

As if he wasn’t the one who broke you.

The clone was still smoking, and when you glanced at him, the glow of the deathstick illuminated hard, cold eyes that watched you without blinking. From his GAR standard haircut to his lack of tattoos, you would have thought he was a shiny, if it weren’t for those deadly eyes.

Well, the eyes, and the body, if you were honest. Despite your earlier taunt, you couldn’t deny that he looked good. Damn good. All the clone troopers were in peak physical condition, but this one—this one was a kriffing specimen. He was thick and broad, with muscles honed from years of combat, and you would eat your military-issued boots if he didn’t also have specialized training. You’d patched up—and done other things with—enough troopers since the war started to be able to spot the difference between the regular clones and the commandos, and there was no doubt in your mind which group your mystery clone belonged to.

His gaze didn’t falter as you inspected his body. He didn’t preen like a narcissist, nor did he shy away. He simply watched you, watching him. The air seemed to thicken between you. You reached out and rested your fingers on his chest, then traced down over the hard expanse of his abdomen. When you reached his waistband, you slipped your fingertips beneath the fabric and stroked them over his smooth, warm skin.

“Straight to business, then?” he asked.

“What, do you need a dozen roses?” you asked.

He laughed quietly. “Might be nice.”

You slid your hand further beneath the fabric, flattening your palm against his hip.

“The, uh, ‘kriffing scughole,’” he said. “That your boyfriend?”

“Hardly,” you replied. “It’s my father.”

His expression didn’t alter, but his eyes flickered down your body and back up to your face. “What’s his problem?”

“Every decision I’ve ever made,” you said evasively. “Plus he hates clones.”

Slowly, very slowly, he took the deathstick out of his mouth and extinguished it against the durasteel wall of the base, then flicked the butt out into the darkness. He raised his hand to cup your jaw in his palm, his fingers pressing lightly against the side of your neck as his thumb brushed over your lips. Then he slid his hand to the back of your head, threading his fingers through your hair as he tugged it gently, tipping your head and exposing your throat.

His mouth descended onto your skin, and he dragged his tongue languidly from your collarbone up to your ear. You shuddered quietly, your body instantly reacting to the sensation.

“Fuck that salty old bastard,” he whispered. “You want me to make you forget him?”

“Yeah…” you breathed.

The heat of his breath ghosted over your skin as he closed his lips on the shell of your ear and then turned his attention back to your neck. He worked you over slowly, taking his time to explore your skin and find all the spots that made you shiver and moan. He tested your reactions methodically, using his lips, tongue, and teeth to find the most effective tactics to take you apart.

You launched a reconnaissance mission of your own, exploring his body, sweeping your hands over his arms and shoulders, wrapping your arms around his waist, pressing against him luxuriously. In return, his hands roamed over your body, pulling you tight against him, stroking your back and sides, fondling and squeezing your tits, and finally stealing beneath your clothes to caress your bare skin.

As he cupped your pussy in his large, warm hand, he let out a grunt that sounded almost pained as he discovered the extent of your arousal. He abandoned his post at your neck and dropped to his knees, gripping the waistband of your trousers and yanking you toward him. He jerked down your pants without bothering to unzip them, as though he couldn’t spare even that much time before plunging his tongue into your wetness.

He groaned as he tasted you, gripping your ass and pressing your body against his face as he thrust his tongue frantically into your cunt. Your trousers prevented him from spreading your thighs enough to give him the access he so obviously wanted, so he impatiently pushed them down to your ankles and lifted your thigh onto his shoulder. He dived into you, his eyes drifting closed as he devoured you.

His strong hand slid up the inside of your thigh, and his fingers stroked your pussy, but before they entered you, he gave one final, mind-blowingly pleasurable suck to your clit, then withdrew slightly, staring up your body into your eyes to make sure you were watching. You felt two of his fingers slide over your entrance and spread you open, then he leaned in and spat into your cunt.

You felt it splatter against your clit, and you nearly came on the spot. You barely had time to gasp before his fingers swirled over the saliva, circling your clit and spreading the slick fluid over your pussy before plunging into you. He pleasured you roughly, stretching you out with his fingers as he sucked and licked your clit, and before long, your legs began to quiver uncontrollably.

Hearing your stifled and increasingly desperate moans, he pulled away and looked up at you again.

“Gonna come?” he asked.

“Uh,” you panted. “Yeah.”

“Good.”

He leaned forward, but you stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. He glanced up at you questioningly.

“Can—” You licked your lips, utterly mortified to make the request. “Can you spit on me again?”

His eyes never lost that cold, emotionless expression, but his mouth twisted into a smirk. “Filthy.”

You weren’t proud of the hoarse moan you let out when he called you that, but to his credit, he showed no sign of judging you for it—though he definitely noticed. He never stopped working you with his hand, and now he pressed his thumb on your clit even as he continued to thrust his fingers into you with devastating precision. You trembled on the edge of an orgasm as he leaned close to your cunt and locked eyes with you. He spat, and you came so hard your vision blacked out. Your leg buckled, and he caught you just in time to prevent you from toppling to the ground.

He stood quickly. You clung to his shoulders for support as he pulled the bottoms of his body glove down just far enough to free his cock.

“Yeah?” he asked.

You nodded, too blissed out to speak as you basked in the aftershocks of one of the most intense orgasms of your life.

“Say it,” he ordered.

“Yes,” you gasped.

He ran his hand down your thigh and hooked it behind your knee, and the instant your leg wrapped around his waist, he thrust into you. You were well prepped, but it was still a massive, abrupt stretch, and you cried out. He clamped his hand over your mouth.

“Surveillance,” he explained curtly.

You nodded your understanding, but he didn’t move his hand—and a good thing, too, because he set a merciless pace, fucking you hard, fast, and deep.

“Too bad you called in a tactical strike on your commlink,” he murmured, sinking his teeth into your neck. “Otherwise you could send your old man a holovid of his precious little girl getting destroyed by one of those clones he hates.”

You let out a sound that was something between a groan and a sob, and he moved his palm off your mouth so you could respond.

“I—like—you,” you panted, the words punching out with every brutal thrust of his cock. “You’re—fuck!—devious.”

His teeth flashed in the moonlight. He hooked his arm under the leg you had wrapped around his waist and shoved it abruptly against your shoulder, bracing his hand against the wall as he pounded into you so hard it almost knocked the air out of your lungs. He covered your mouth again to muffle your scream, but after the initial hoarse cry, he moved his hand down to your neck and traced his thumb over your throat. His lips crashed into yours, his tongue sweeping into your mouth as he kissed you deeply, and you tasted your own arousal on him. It occurred to you that this obscene coupling was, in fact, the first time he’d kissed you on the mouth.

Who says romance is dead?

A deep, quiet growl rumbled from his chest as he kissed you with a ferocity that was almost unsettling. He didn’t let up, didn’t give you a chance to catch your breath as he chased his own pleasure. You were under no illusions that any of this meant anything: after all, you were using him just as much as he was using you. And it was kriffing hot.

The durasteel of the wall was hard and unyielding behind you, and the force of his thrusts only intensified as he ravaged your mouth. It hurt just enough to feel good—amazing, actually—and before long, you started to feel your body winding in on itself again.

Abruptly, he pulled out of you and thrust hard against your hip. You let out a low howl of rage and frustration into his mouth as you felt the heat of his cum spurt across your pelvis and belly. He groaned, but didn’t pull away from your mouth as he slumped heavily against you, dropping his hand to your cunt and sliding his fingers deep into you again. He knew exactly what he was looking for. The instant he found it, he zeroed in on it, not wasting any time with pleasantries. His finger moved in tiny, rapid motions with the perfect amount of pressure, and within seconds, he wrenched another orgasm forcefully from your body, stifling your cries of pleasure with his tongue.

You twitched away from him slightly as your body began to pass from pleasure into overstimulation, and he slowly withdrew his fingers from you. Dragging them lightly across your hip and belly, he traced them through his cum before wiping it firmly off your skin.

“Sorry about your shirt,” he murmured.

“Are you fuckin’ kidding me?” you demanded irritably.

“No,” he replied, deadpan. “I really am sorry.”

“That’s not what I—” You cut yourself off, then sighed, “Kriff you, buddy.”

“Already did,” he smirked. “Hope it’s not dry clean.”

“I’m more concerned about getting back to my quarters covered in your jizz.”

“Nobody’s awake,” he shrugged. “Besides, it’s not that bad.”

“It isn’t?” you asked, glancing down.

“Nah, I lied. Anyone you meet is gonna know.”

You stared at him for a moment, and then you started to laugh. You dropped your forehead to his shoulder as you giggled helplessly. He leaned his face against your head, and you felt the telltale huff of his breath as he joined you silently. Eventually, your giggles faded away, and you sighed.

“Thanks for pulling out. I have an implant, but still. I’m a medic. I should have been more careful.”

He shrugged. “No offense, but I don’t want my kids to have your shitty dad for a grandfather.”

“Holy kark, can you even imagine?” you said with a short laugh. “He’d have a coronary if I let a clone knock me up.”

He exhaled quietly through his nose as he pressed his lips into your hair. “If you ever want to put the old fuck in the ground and get away with it, comm me, and we can do this again with even less protection.”

“I don’t even know who you are,” you pointed out. “How am I supposed to comm you?”

“Solid point.” He didn’t volunteer his name, and you didn’t ask.

The cool night air gradually became uncomfortably chilly on your bare legs, and you suddenly began to feel awkward as hell.

“I should get back to my quarters,” you mumbled.

You pulled away and tried to figure out exactly how he’d managed to turn your pants inside-out without ever fully removing them. He watched with those cold, expressionless eyes as you dressed. It was almost disconcerting, except every so often you’d catch him looking at your body, or your mouth, and you knew he wasn’t as impassive as he appeared. Once you had pulled yourself together, he walked with you to the side door and keyed in his security code. The door hissed open, and as you passed through it, his fingers closed around your wrist, the pressure warm and surprisingly comforting. You turned to him, your question unspoken.

He released your wrist and stared expressionlessly into your eyes for a moment, then said, “He’s wrong about you.”

You didn’t reply, just stared back at him. After a brief silence, he released your wrist and stepped away. The door slid closed with him on the opposite side, and you turned to make your way to your quarters, suddenly feeling a little less alone.

Taglist, eh?

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#bacara x reader #commander bacara #star wars #the clone wars #dystopicjumpsuit writes

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covid-safer-hotties · 4 months ago

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Also preserved on our archive

By Hayley Gleeson

There wasn't a dramatic "lightning bolt" moment when Colin Kinner realised he needed to roll up his sleeves and start tackling what he'd come to see as a pernicious problem: the largely unchecked spread of SARS-CoV-2 in Australian schools.

What spurred him to act, in the end, was the growing pile of evidence that COVID was a serious health threat, and his concern that school communities seemed to be shrugging their shoulders at it.

He was tired of hearing about schools allowing teachers to come to work while COVID positive. Of sick children being permitted to stay in class and infecting others. Of schools asking parents not to tell them if their child had COVID, but routinely sending home letters about head lice or chickenpox. Of teachers and kids catching the virus and not recovering.

"As a parent, I want my son to be safe at school, so that was a key part of my motivation to do this," says Mr Kinner, the Brisbane creator of COVID Safety for Schools, a free online course that aims to correct misinformation and teach school staff and parents how to reduce the risk of the virus spreading. "But also, having spoken to lots of other parents and teachers, it's clear that most schools are lacking an understanding of some of the absolute basics of COVID. And in the fifth year of the pandemic, I find that very troubling."

Every week in Australia too many students and teachers are catching COVID at school, Mr Kinner says, resulting in disrupted learning, teacher shortages, increased transmission in the broader community and disabling chronic illnesses like long COVID. It's hardly surprising: a packed classroom can be the perfect place for an airborne virus to thrive, with one US study finding more than 70 per cent of COVID transmission in homes began with an infected school-age child.

Schools aren't necessarily at fault: in most states they've been starved of good public health guidance, Mr Kinner says — they've been told "they can treat it like any other respiratory illness, so that's exactly what they're doing".

Step one: correct misinformation A science and technology communicator and startup mentor, Mr Kinner's solution was to assemble a team — some of Australia's leading experts in public health, medicine and engineering — who could explain in simple video tutorials the health risks of COVID, the science of how it spreads, and strategies schools can use to keep staff and students well. The ultimate goal of COVID Safety for Schools, he says, is to change minds and behaviour and, since it launched in February, 600 participants have signed up, about half parents and half teachers.

But perhaps its greatest challenge is engaging people in the first place, particularly those who believe COVID is harmless or no longer worth taking precautions against.

For the past couple of years Australians have been encouraged to keep calm and carry on as if the virus is in the rear view mirror, even as it continues sickening and killing people, albeit in smaller numbers than years gone by. News reports often downplay its severity, if they cover it at all, while political leaders, public health officials and doctors have claimed it is no cause for concern, especially in children, and that catching it is not just inevitable, but necessary.

But mounting evidence shows the opposite. Even in vaccinated people and those who suffer "mild" infections, COVID can trigger a range of health problems including cardiovascular disease, diabetes, neurological conditions and immune dysfunction. Then there's long COVID, a debilitating multi-organ illness that has upended the lives of hundreds of millions of children and adults worldwide, many of whom do not fully recover.

"COVID is like an accelerator for all the other diseases that we hate — it's actually an aging accelerant as well," Professor Jeremy Nicholson explains in one of the course videos. "And we don't want that for our kids or anybody else."

Simple steps can stop COVID spreading Once apprised of the health risks, course participants are taught about evidence-based tools schools can use to reduce viral transmission. These are not outlandish or burdensome interventions, but common sense steps like encouraging teachers and students to stay home if they're sick; improving indoor air quality with ventilation and filtration — with air conditioning systems, air purifiers and good old-fashioned open windows; and promoting mask wearing particularly in high-risk settings like crowded indoor gatherings or bus trips.

Of course, some education departments already require schools to take similar measures. In Victoria, for instance, all public schools must "maximise" external ventilation, ensure air purifiers are used, encourage good personal hygiene and make face masks available for those who want to wear them. But that doesn't mean schools actually follow the guidelines or use the tools at their disposal (in 2021 the government delivered tens of thousands of air purifiers to schools across the state, but many are no longer used and some have since been listed for sale on Facebook Marketplace).

The federal president of the Australian Education Union, Correna Haythorpe, says any initiative that educates people about COVID and what schools can do to prevent infections is "welcome". Teachers who have to take sick leave because they've caught COVID or developed long COVID are an additional burden on schools, many of which are struggling with the "chronic" national teacher shortage, she says. Then there's the disruption to learning: "A contagious disease can very quickly … take out significant numbers of students. And fundamentally, we want kids to be engaged, we want them to be well, we want them to be learning."

Improving the situation, though, requires stronger leadership from education departments, Ms Haythorpe says. "Current government approaches to limiting COVID infection, repeat infection and long COVID demonstrates a lack of concern for the health and wellbeing of students, teachers and broader school communities," the AEU wrote in its submission to Australia's parliamentary inquiry into long COVID. Mitigation measures in many public schools are not adequate, it said, "and a lack of capital investment … since 2017 means that conditions are often cramped with inadequate air flow".

'Long COVID basically ended my career' For Amanda Sharpe, these problems are personal. Before she developed long COVID after catching the virus from her children in 2022, Ms Sharpe taught advanced maths at a high school in Bundaberg, Queensland. She used to spend full days on her feet, relishing the buzz of helping her students solve complex equations, preparing them for careers in fields like medicine and aerospace engineering.

Now, just sitting upright for a short spell or reading a simple news story can quickly worsen her symptoms and wipe her out for days. "Long COVID basically ended my career and I doubt that I'll ever be able to return," she says. "Unless there is an actual cure, I think that will be it for me."

It's bewildering that schools aren't taking stronger action to protect their staff and students from COVID, says Ms Sharpe, who tells her story in the COVID Safety for Schools course. A major issue is that many people still think of COVID as a respiratory illness, she says — they don't realise it can also attack the vascular system, damaging blood vessels and increasing the risk of clotting abnormalities, stroke and heart disease.

She also wishes more people knew that the virus can cause brain changes and cognitive impairment: one study, for instance, found people who recovered from "mild" COVID infections had lost the equivalent of three IQ points.

"With the maths I teach, you really can't afford to have your IQ drop," Ms Sharpe says. "I just don't understand why schools aren't implementing simple measures like improving indoor air quality — especially private schools, where academic results link directly with enrolments and success."

In response to previous disease outbreaks like Spanish flu and tuberculosis, schools moved lessons outdoors — sometimes in freezing winter temperatures — to stop children from getting sick, she says. "But we don't want to have classroom windows open in Queensland? It just seems insane to me."

What about WHS laws? It may also be unlawful. Australians may have been led to believe that public health orders in force until 2022 were the key reason employers, including schools, had to take steps to protect staff from COVID, says Michael Tooma, a partner at the law firm Hamilton Locke. But schools have always had to comply with workplace health and safety laws — "there has always been a duty of care", he says. "COVID presents a risk to health and safety and, like any other risk, it needs to be managed with proactive policies and procedures that try to eliminate the risk or reduce it as far as reasonably practicable."

At the very least, Mr Tooma says, schools should be excluding people with COVID from the workplace, improving ventilation in classrooms and auditoriums and maintaining sensible cleaning and hygiene regimes.

Schools that fail to meet their WHS legal obligations may be reported to and investigated by state regulators, which can issue improvement notices and in some cases bring prosecutions for serious breaches of the relevant legislation.

Still, Mr Tooma says he's not aware of any schools being prosecuted for COVID-related breaches and in general, regulators tend to focus on industries that have higher risks of serious physical harm and death, as well as "campaign" issues like mental health. "Regulator activity tends to follow public interest and so as public interest in COVID and COVID safety has waned, so has regulatory activity around it, in my experience."

Mr Kinner suspects it's probably going to take successful litigation for schools to start taking COVID more seriously. He points to a UK case in which 120 teachers with long COVID are suing the Department of Education for allegedly failing to protect them at the height of the pandemic. Those involved say they were not given good enough guidance for managing the risks the virus posed, with data showing teachers suffered high rates of infection and long COVID.

"I think it's only a matter of time before we see similar legal action in Australia," Mr Kinner says. "It could be from teachers, it could be from families who caught COVID because it came into their household via the school. I think it's inevitable."

In the meantime, he will keep trying to get COVID Safety for Schools in front of as many teachers, parents and principals as he can — even if it takes a while, even if they don't want to hear its message.

"I've been very surprised at how school leaders don't act when they're presented with this information, even people who go through the course and understand — or should understand — that this is a virus we should be taking very seriously," Mr Kinner says. "Because facts remain facts. Even if you don't like them, even if they make you feel uncomfortable, they're still facts."

#mask up #pandemic #covid #covid 19 #wear a mask #public health #coronavirus #sars cov 2 #still coviding #wear a respirator #long covid #covid conscious #covid is not over

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tinynerdz360 · 3 months ago

Text

Future Ghost Chapter 11 New Mission

Krik sat in his office waiting for an important call from command.

Kirk's computer terminal beeped with an urgent hail from Starfleet Command. He tapped the screen to accept the call. Admiral Nogura's stern face appeared, his brow furrowed.

"Captain Kirk, we need to discuss your report on the stowaway...this time traveler, Danny Fenton," the Admiral said, his tone clipped.

Kirk tensed. He had a feeling this conversation was coming, but he wasn't looking forward to it. "Yes, Admiral, I’ve made a detailed report on him. What else would you like to know?"

Nogura leaned forward, staring intently through the screen. "Is there any possible connection between this boy and the disappearance of Amity? Ensign Gray brought us concerning findings about unusual energy signatures at the crater site. But damn it, Kirk, we've lost so much data from the wars. It's beyond frustrating." The admiral shook his head wearily. “What baffles me is that nobody, and I mean nobody noticed a whole city was gone. All these decades, not a mention of it.”

Kirk blinked in surprise, not expecting that to be the first topic at hand. It looks like Chekov’s friend had gone to Starfleet with her findings. Kirk chose his words carefully. "At this point, we haven’t asked him about it. We had some concerns about his ability to handle such news. He’s already stranded in time. We’re giving him more time before we break the news to him. But as far as we can tell, we don't have evidence directly linking Danny to Amity's disappearance.” However, Kirk knew more than he was letting on. The boy's abilities, his true nature...but Kirk needed to protect him.

"Our scientists have been studying the site and noticed some unusual phenomena." The admiral's eyes narrowed. "For one, there's a distinct lack of signs of weapon use. No residual energy signatures, no debris patterns consistent with known weaponry."

Kirk nodded. "That is strange. Have the scientists there found anything, maybe in historical documents?"

The admiral shook his head, frustration evident in his tone. "That's the problem, Kirk. With so much data lost during the wars, we can't even pinpoint exactly when the city vanished. It could have been at the beginning, in the middle, or even after the conflicts ended."

Kirk's fingers drummed on the armrest of his chair, a nervous habit he'd never quite been able to shake. "What about the crater itself? Anything unusual there?"

"Yes, and it's deeply concerning." The admiral's image flickered, the transmission wavering momentarily before stabilizing. "The crater is in a state of stasis, almost as if time itself has stopped within its boundaries. The soil remains barren, no signs of life or growth. It's as if the very essence of the place has been drained away."

Kirk tapped his chin in thought. “Maybe these energy beings from this Zone Danny mentioned have something to do with it?”

The admiral's expression turned grave. "It's a possibility.”

Kirk's thoughts turned to the enigmatic teenager under his command.

"There's something else, Kirk." The admiral's voice jolted him back to the present. "The energy interference around the crater is playing havoc with our equipment. Sensors malfunction, scanners give false readings. And some of our scientists...they've been affected too."

Kirk sat up straighter, alarm bells ringing in his head. "Affected how?"

"It's like they're in a trance. They keep leaving the site, drawn away by some unseen force. We've had to establish a quarantine zone just to keep them contained. Once they're far from the crater, they return to normal with no memory of the place."

Kirk met the admiral's gaze, determination etched into every line of his face. "I'll get to the bottom of this, Admiral. You have my word."

The admiral nodded, his expression softening just a fraction. "I know you will, Kirk. But be careful. We're dealing with forces beyond our understanding. Tread lightly and keep a close eye on that boy."

"Oh, and Kirk," the admiral's voice cut through Kirk's musings, drawing his attention back to the matter at hand. "There's another situation that requires your immediate attention."

Kirk straightened in his seat, his eyes sharp and focused. "Go ahead, Admiral."

The admiral's face was grave, the lines around his mouth and eyes deepening with concern. "We've lost contact with the science vessel USS Hades. They were studying a newly discovered planet, one with the ruins of a long-dead alien civilization."

Kirk frowned, a sense of unease settling in his gut. "Lost contact? For how long?"

"Nearly 48 hours now," the admiral replied, his voice tight. "Their last transmission mentioned a distress call from the planet's surface, but we haven't been able to raise them since."

Kirk's mind raced with possibilities, each more unsettling than the last. A distress call from an unknown planet, a science team gone silent... it had all the makings of a mystery and a dangerous one at that.

"We'll investigate immediately, Admiral," Kirk said, his voice firm and resolute. "I'll have my crew prepare for departure within the hour."

The admiral nodded, a flicker of relief crossing his face. "Good. But Kirk... be careful. We don't know what you'll find down there."

Kirk's jaw tightened, his eyes hardening with determination. "We'll take every precaution, Admiral. But we will get to the bottom of this.

Kirk stood from his chair, straightening his uniform as he moved towards the door. The conversation with Admiral Nogura played over in his mind, the weight of his responsibility as captain pressing down on his shoulders. He had to ensure the safety of his crew, but he also felt a strong need to protect Danny, the mysterious teenager with abilities beyond anything he'd encountered before.

Kirk called his senior officers in for a meeting about their next mission.

Kirk turned to his senior officers, his expression grave. "We have a situation," he began, his voice carrying the weight of command. "The USS Hades has gone silent. They were studying ruins on a newly discovered planet when they sent out a distress call. Our orders are to investigate and render assistance."

Uhura's eyes widened, concern etched on her face. "A distress call? What could have happened?"

"Unknown," Kirk replied, his brow furrowed. "But we'll find out. Spock, I want you to coordinate with the science department. Gather all available data on that planet and the Hades' mission."

Spock nodded, already mentally compiling the necessary information. "Understood, Captain."

Kirk's gaze shifted to Scotty, the ship's chief engineer. "Scotty, I need the Enterprise ready for anything. Make sure all systems are at peak performance."

Scotty grinned a glint of excitement in his eyes. "Aye, Captain. She'll be purring like a kitten."

Kirk allowed a small smile before his expression turned serious once more. "There's one more thing," he said, his voice low. "The admiral has concerns about our young stowaway, Danny. He wants us to keep a close eye on him and report any unusual behavior."

McCoy frowned, his protective instincts flaring. "Jim, the kid hasn’t done anything wrong. We can't treat him like a suspect."

Kirk held up a hand, his eyes understanding but firm. "I know, Bones. But we have our orders. We'll handle this delicately, but we need to be vigilant."

As the meeting adjourned, Kirk's thoughts turned to Danny. The boy was an enigma, his abilities both fascinating and potentially dangerous. Kirk knew he would have to tread carefully, balancing his duty to Starfleet with his instinct to protect the young hybrid.

The crew bustled with activity as they prepared for the mission, a sense of urgency and anticipation filling the air. In the science labs, Spock and his team pored over the limited data on the mysterious planet, searching for any clues that might shed light on the Hades fate.

And on the bridge, Kirk sat in his command chair, his eyes fixed on the viewscreen as the stars streaked past.

Chapter 12

#my writing #danny fenton #danny phantom #crossover #danny in space #fanfiction #danny phantom au #Star Trek #Kirk #New away mission

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