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batterygarden · 5 months

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dr. suguru geto & his white-haired med student perform your check up!

cw: 18+ MDNI, afab fem!reader, dead dove do not eat! reader’s a bit naive, medical kink, dubcon because she’s under the impression it’s necessary for doctors to fuck their patients (geto convinces her she has some rare hormone disorder) also she’s kinda pressured to consent to being watched, pussy inspection, nude taking, voyeurism, protected sex, fingering, fondling, size kink with no pain. just. medical exam gone sexual and with gojo stepping in. 1.5k words

a/n: my first time writing a geto OR gojo fic and it is utterly depraved <3 .. also my first time posting a fic in so long, feedback and rbs would be greatly appreciated! xoxo enjoy

Dr. Suguru Geto has been your physician for as long as you can remember—treating injuries, prescribing medicine, performing routine physicals… You’ve come to trust him and only him when it comes to your health. You appreciate the fact that his check-ups are familiar; you’ve been attending them for years and like to think you know his office like the back of your hand. Which is why you’re startled to see someone else in his room today—a med student intending to sit in on your visit, a nice camera set beside him on the supply table.

He greets you from a seated place against the wall when you enter Dr. Geto’s room—a tall, bright-eyed man with white hair and glasses—masked in an N95 but still somehow intimidatingly-handsome. Of course, that'd make your doctor petrifyingly-handsome, the way he smiles so kindly for you, the way his silky hair looks tied behind his head, stray bangs falling loose. The way he fills out his scrubs—they’re almost too small for his muscular arms. You have to shake your head to clear it—your thoughts are veering inappropriate.

Once you’re seated on the exam table, crinkling the wax paper, Dr. Geto snaps on a pair of blue gloves.

“You know the routine, sweetheart,” he says in that unnervingly-soothing voice of his—easily commanding your attention, a desire to please. Sometimes you imagine his voice is hypnotic.

You nod for him—you do have a good grasp of his check up procedure by now, lifting your chin while he checks your eyes and ears and nose. He seems to linger on the inspection of your mouth and throat—making you worry; what if you have some kind of virus! You wonder if something’s wrong when he places two fingers on your tongue to encourage your mouth wider for his gaze, swiping a bead of drool from your lip with his thumb once he’s finished. Fortunately, he deems everything to be in good health—and you thank him, pleased to have such a thoughtful doctor.

Then comes the awkward part—well, awkward because of this new man in attendance.

Dr. Geto has to perform your breast exam.

He does this every time, he’s very thorough—something you appreciate given the unique hormone disorder he says you have. You don’t really understand it, but you trust your physician explicitly—glad that, so long as you’re under his care, you’re staying closely monitored.

You feel your face heat once you strip today, noticing the white-haired man shifting to get a closer look. You wonder what the clipboard on his lap is even for, considering the way he never glances at it. You can feel that his gaze hasn’t left you once—you’re not sure you’ve ever felt this carefully perceived.

You will yourself to ignore it during the breast exam, which, thankfully, also goes well. Geto assures you they’re healthy—perfect he even says while a gloved thumb runs over your nipple, and tingles go up your spine. Your doctor’s approval always feels unbelievably good, you relish in it.

For the sake of your health, what with your hormone disorder and all, Dr. Geto always checks between your legs during your physical, too. Making sure your reproductive organs are healthy and working properly—it’s something you’ve grown used to and more than comfortable with.

Today you can’t help but glance at the medical student against the wall when Dr. Geto asks that you remove your pants though, hesitating under his bright gaze.

Geto gives you a patient smile, glancing to the other man.

“Don’t be shy, sweet thing—it’s nothing we haven’t seen before. Mr. Gojo here is a talented student, in fact he’s a friend of mine—you can trust you’re in good hands.”

You can tell Gojo is smiling under his mask with the way his eyes crinkle, nodding in encouragement.

“Of course! It’s really nice of you to help me meet my training requirements.”

You notice that the student's voice carries a similar weight to your doctor’s—oozing confidence and reassurance.

With a deep breath you nod, ridding yourself of the rest of your clothes. Who are you to obstruct this man’s learning—you decide it’s better to just be respectful.

You’ve got to cum at least once a day, you know—that’s what Dr. Geto recommends to stay healthy—and he always takes care of it for you when you visit. He might as well while he’s performing your check up down there anyways, and it’s useful for him to make sure you can orgasm properly—what with your wacky hormones and all.

The anticipation has you embarrassingly wet when you pull down your underwear though, a string of arousal clinging to the fabric as you tug them off. You feel warm as both men’s eyes follow the mess you’ve made—shy in a way you aren’t usually when it’s just you and Dr. Geto. As polite and respectful as this medical student has been, his eyes intimidate you, as does the previously forgotten camera that accompanies him—replacing the clipboard in his hands.

He notices you glancing at it and, with a gentle, informative tone, explains how it’s important he can refer back to this experience as learning material, he’s still studying in addition to residency—capturing photos of this exam will be quite helpful. And as much as it throws off your usual routine, you figure if it’s for the sake of learning and science you’d be rude to deny him.

Geto’s gloved hand is surprisingly precise and dexterous for its large size, once your feet are in the stirrups he makes light work of you every time.

First there’s the examination, inspecting you with a flashlight and this time a camera, and then he’s gently poking and prodding, spreading and fingering before he focuses on making you cum. It’s embarrassing how messy the latex of his gloves becomes, his blue fingers shiny and sticky once he finally removes them from inside you. His clean hand rubs your thigh reassuringly while you come down, and he smiles at you, telling you you’ve done well. You barely register Mr. Gojo sneaking in to take a photo of your swollen pussy—an after, since you know he captured a few before you came as well.

That type of check-up wasn’t adequate today though, Dr. Geto insists on ensuring you can still cum from cock as well. He’s done this before, and it feels so nice, so you thank him for offering. You watch carefully as he discards messy gloves for clean ones before freeing his hard cock, rolling a condom down its length. It’s large—a breath-halting sight every time you see it.

You wince when a gloved hand is returned to your sensitive folds then, gathering your release to spread over himself as lube. Dr. Geto fucks into you slowly at first, working you open carefully so it isn’t painful, before finding a steady rhythm, hitting a deep spot within you that has you whining, your toes curling up by his sides. You cum on his cock twice before he’s groaning and cumming with you, the warmth of his seed spreading inside you through the thin condom.

By this point you’re overstimulated, wincing when he pulls out, covered in a sheen of sweat, dripping onto the exam table paper.

Still, you let Mr. Gojo fuck you then, too, even though Geto’s finished his check up—docile and easily persuaded. You reason that it makes sense he’d need more hands-on training experience as a doctor-in-training. You’re happy to help, you tell him.

You’re a mess by the time he finishes, he isn’t quite as careful and gentle as your doctor is—pounding into you with little care for your overstimulation. You’re left twitching and mush-brained, barely feeling Dr.Geto’s soothing gloved hands rub over your sore limbs—only somewhat registering the way Gojo holds the camera before he’s even pulled out of you, snapping full body pics before some close ups of your well-abused cunt.

You’ve passed your physical with flying colors, your doctor informs you, once he and his student are composed and dressed. Mr. Gojo thanks you for your training assistance, his voice holding a boyish charisma that has you thanking him as well. He then helps you gather your things before leaving the room so you can dress.

Feeling satisfied, albeit a bit exhausted, you tug back on your clothes, finding that Mr. Gojo’s left his clipboard when you go to grab your bag. You don’t see the harm in peeking a bit, suddenly curious what notes he could have been referring to or taking during your exam. You're surprised when you do, though—there’s only a blank piece of paper attached.

#geto x reader #gojo x reader #getou suguru x reader #jjk x reader #gojou satoru x reader #getou x reader #jjk fic #geto suguru smut #gojo smut #jjk smut #🐞 writes #tw.dubcon #tw.medical

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anonymouspuzzler · 10 months

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everyone has been so darned kind about the update!! to everyone who has taken a peek at our work, explored the site, shared it with their friends, drawn fanart, done ANIMATICS, MUSIC VIDEOS, everything and anything - thank you, thank you, thank you!!

also here's a lot of little doodles i found i did during production that i completely forgot about until now. the last little comic is a True Story that happened when i was hosting the exhibition

[Image IDs/transcripts under cut!]

[Image 1 ID: A full-color, digital drawing of a puppet version of Puzz lifting up Wally on her right hip. Wally is smiling gently and waving with his right arm. There is a light green and blue gradient behind them, and rainbow text above their heads reading "THANK YOU!" with little heart symbols in several colors. End ID.]

[Image 2 ID: A photo of Puzz and the Wally puppet, with a caricature of Puzz's face drawn over where her head would be. She is wearing read heart earrings and has her hair in a curly updo similar to Wally's pompadour. She is smiling with her tongue sticking out, looking into the camera. Wally is also smiling into the camera, one arm resting behind Puzz's back and the other hand on her arm. There is an arrow pointing to Puzz with handwritten text reading "PUZZ!" in blue colored pencil, and various yellow- and blue stars drawn around the image. End ID.]

[Image 3 ID: A black-and-white digital ink drawing of Puzz sitting at a messy L-shaped desk. She is wearing a baggy black t-shirt over a striped long-sleeve shirt, a grey skirt, and tights with a swirly pattern. There is a laptop to Puzz's right, a takeout container and cup of pens to her left, and a monitor right in front of her. There is a close-up image of Eddie's smiling face on the monitor. Puzz leans in close with an intense, thoughtful expression, going "hmm...". End ID.]

[Image 4 ID: A black-and-wite digital ink drawing showing Wally watching in horror as Puzz, spinning in circles with a vapid grin, ascends into the sky with a giant box balanced on top of her head. Her tiny top hat is in turn balanced on top of the box. End ID.]

[Image 5 ID: A black-and-white digital ink drawing of puppet Puzz and Wally. Puzz is standing in front of Wally, back facing the viewer, with an empty grin. Wally, who is about a full head taller, looks down at her with dumbfounded horror, apparently unable to comprehend someone being smaller than him. There are several question marks above his head. End ID.]

[Image 6 ID: A black-and-white digital ink drawing of Wally. He is leaning against a surface holding a phone, staring at the viewer with a gentle smile. He is holding the phone to his ear with his left hand and twirling the cord around his finger with his right. End ID.]

[Image 7 ID: A black-and-white digital ink drawing of Frank and Barnaby. They are recreating the meme image of two men in the snow, with Frank looking off to the right holding a small snowball in his hands, while Barnaby jumps up behind him holding a huge snowball, grinning widely and prepared to Dunk. End ID.]

[Image 8 ID: A black-and-white digital ink comic about Puzz and Wally at the Playfellow Exhibition. Puzz, wearing a N95 mask and dressed up like Wally, holds the Wally puppet on her left. In front of them is a woman with a short bob haircut and striped shirt, holding the toy phone receiver up to her ear. In the first panel, the woman says, "this is your voice?", to which Wally nods and Puzz looks on. In the second panel, the woman cheerfully adds, "you have a sexy voice!", to which Puzz and Wally both look shocked. The third and fourth panels shows Puzz and Wally looking at each other, then back at the woman. The final panel shows Wally covering his face with one hand and ducking his face into Puzz's shoulder in embarrassment, while Puzz and the woman both laugh good-naturedly. End ID.]

#anonymous puzzler art #welcome home #apparently necessary disclaimer of THAT PICTURE IS NOT CLOWN IT'S ME (bc people just keep Assuming Things)#also don't read in too deep to any of these images LOL most of 'em were just idle doodling during meetings. no Lore Implications to be had #only silly goofs and gaffs and laffs here #long post /

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feminist-space · 10 months

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"Long COVID has destroyed my life

I would love nothing more than to “finally ignore COVID,” as the headline to Dr. Ashish Jha’s July 31 op-ed reads (“With a few basic steps, most of us can finally ignore COVID”). As a healthy, vaccinated, and recently boosted 35-year-old, I did what he said: I ignored COVID-19 on a weekend trip with friends in September 2022. But the infection I got as a result has all but destroyed my life.

A week after my infection, I began to experience intense fatigue, overwhelming headaches, and cognitive challenges that continue to this day. These symptoms are debilitating: I can no longer work, socialize, or travel. My finances are dire. And if I am unable to avoid another infection, my condition may deteriorate even further.

Jha wrote of long COVID “treatments” being promising. Perhaps he could clarify what treatments he is referring to, because my doctors say that there are no approved treatments for long COVID.

A recent study funded by the NIH’s RECOVER initiative showed that 10 percent of adults infected with COVID still have symptoms six months later, even with vaccination. By downplaying the prevalence and debilitating outcomes of even moderate long COVID, Jha is signing thousands of people up to the misery and despair with which I live every day.

Ezra J. Spier

Oakland, Calif.

Another view from infectious disease doctors

As infectious disease doctors, we disagree with Dr. Jha’s contention that it is time to ignore COVID-19.

Yes, being vaccinated and taking Paxlovid thankfully decrease the risk of severe disease. But only 43 percent of people age 65 and over and only 17 percent of all Americans had received an updated COVID vaccination by May 2023, and access to Paxlovid treatment is inequitable by race and insurance status.

Long-term complications of COVID can be devastating, including after second infections.

More than half a million Americans have died since the summer of 2021, when sufficient vaccine doses were available: COVID death rates in the United States continue to be double those of Canada. Termination of free tests and “commercialization” of medications as implemented by the federal government will only widen our country’s grisly COVID-related health disparities.

Inevitably, ignoring COVID leads to ignoring the slow-motion epidemic of long COVID. Standing up against such neglect, leaders like Boston Mayor Michelle Wu and Governor Maura Healey can promote meaningful measures to protect our communities: air purification in all schools and public spaces; free COVID-preventive masks (KN95 or N95, not surgical masks); tests, vaccines, and Paxlovid for all who cannot afford to buy them; and concern for and support of long COVID victims.

Dr. Julia Koehler

Boston

Dr. Regina LaRocque

Wellesley

We remain vulnerable to long COVID

Ashish Jha’s position as former White House COVID-19 Response Coordinator is a conflict of interest masquerading as a qualification for his op-ed. Researchers who study long COVID stated in a recent paper in Nature Reviews Immunology that “the oncoming burden of long COVID faced by patients, health-care providers, governments and economies is so large as to be unfathomable.” Rapid tests, which are less accurate with recent strains while PCR tests are less available, and low death rates give a false sense of security.

I agree that despite progress, more buildings need the air filtration and ventilation that would make public life safer. But Jha omits our vulnerability to long COVID after even mild infections, its devastating effects, and higher death rates for hospital-acquired COVID-19, combined with a lack of collective protection in health care settings with unmasked, untested people who prefer to ignore COVID-19.

Aside from advocating vaccines, he describes an everyone-for-themselves approach, not mentioning responsibility to protect others or access to essentials.

Jha dines in a restaurant with his friends while patients even in leading cancer hospitals are forced into Russian roulette, thanks to this approach.

Kathryn Nichols

Cambridge

Vigilance is necessary to prevent long COVID

While I understand the desire to promote optimism amid the ongoing pandemic, I am deeply concerned about the potential consequences of downplaying the importance of COVID precautions and the significant risk of long COVID. As a person living with long COVID for the last 16 months despite being vaccinated and boosted, I have experienced post-exertional malaise, fatigue, headaches, joint and muscle pain, cognitive dysfunction, and more symptoms that have continued to today. I have tried numerous medicines, supplements, and even participated in a clinical trial, only to find limited relief from the persistent effects of this virus.

Such a stance overlooks the reality that millions more people could end up with long COVID if we fail to remain vigilant in our efforts to combat the virus. Long COVID is a devastating consequence of this virus, and we cannot rely solely on vaccinations to end the pandemic. Even with widespread vaccination, the risk of contracting long COVID remains high. A recent study funded by the NIH’s RECOVER initiative showed that 10 percent of adults infected with COVID still have symptoms six months later. Minimizing the significance of long COVID not only neglects the suffering of long-haulers but also risks undermining public health efforts to control the spread of the virus.

By raising awareness about the risk of long COVID, media outlets can play a pivotal role in educating the public and promoting continued vigilance. Responsible reporting on the enduring impact of long COVID can serve as a reminder that the pandemic is far from over and that we must remain committed to taking necessary precautions to protect ourselves and others. Highlighting the struggles of long COVID survivors and the lack of proven treatments can spur further research and medical advancements in addressing this condition. Empathy and support for those living with long COVID are essential in paving the way for better understanding, compassionate care, and better health outcomes for everyone as COVID rates increase again this summer.

Travis Hardy

Norwalk, Conn.

Link https://www.bostonglobe.com/2023/08/05/opinion/cant-ignore-long-covid-jha/

#covid #long covid #wear a mask #please wear a mask #the pandemic isn't over

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lucerocosplay · 6 months

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Shohki Mask Cover

construction notes & photos under the cut

This has been a long time coming! I'm glad she's a costume I can work a mask into without it breaking the design of the character. I feel like people would be less inclined to ask that you remove it for photos this way ^^;

I went with a very thin cotton gauze fabric (#9 "coffee" if you're wondering), think a slightly thicker cheese cloth. It's very breathable as a single layer and seemed the best choice for an N95 cover. The shape was really only achievable with this fabric because of the shape of my mask underneath, and some strategically placed 1/2" wide horsehair braid tubing from the dollar tree. I usually stock up around halloween but they stock around christmas too!

Process is very straight forward, just traced my mask on the fold and made some rough adjustments for a card stock mock up. I like 90-110 lbs for this sort of thing but construction paper can work in a pinch too. Cut that out and fit to my face, tweaked the placement on the nose bridge and added a 1/4" allowance for bias tape/facing, and appropriate allowance for flat felled seams.

The ear tab was extended to cover the mask underneath, and included allowance for support fabric (denim scrap in my case) to support two eyelets intended to thread the elastic of my mask through. Then it was just patterning out the rest of the mask elements and making note of seam allowance and how to cut each piece. I trimmed the tape holding together the card stock mask apart and finally got to cutting out the fabric once that was done.

There isn't anything fancy going on, the hardest part was just the inset mesh panel over the weirdly shaped keyhole cut outs on the mouth piece. It's just black nylon mesh typically used for interfacing bras sewn on after making the keyholes.

This fabric is like if toilet paper were a textile, which is great for breatheability and weight but absolutely hell for machine work like this. It's not for a competition so for me, hiding messy stitching with weathering later was ok.

The portion of the mask running from the underside of each ear tab was finished with homemade bias tape. The same method was used for finishing the top portion that runs over the bridge of my nose. The ends were simply folded and sewn down at the ear tabs for a clean finish.

The side "filters" have an extra 1/2" long extension so I can tack in the ends of some horse hair tubing, then double fold the fabric back into itself before hand tacking with tiny stitches from the outside. That helps the light fabric balloon out into that shape, along with another layer of that same mesh interfacing.

They are really fun actually, very floppy with great movement. Though they stick out a tad too much so I did add one small french tack to the center of each to help them point downwards but retain that movement. The "filter" took the most hand finishing out of the whole thing, but that was to be expected.

Once the little side "filters" were sewn in, there was just light weathering to do. I wanted to add some shadows and potential "mold spores" to certain areas to really make the texture pop and hide some messy stitching. Light passes with a dry brush and some acrylic helped a lot, so did referencing photos of mold growth on clothes.

It was a pass of burnt sienna along all seams and large patches where high humidity would accumulate. Then another lighter pass of burnt umber to deepen up areas, and some very sparse areas of white. Finally I wanted to give it the "blue cheese special" and mixed a little viridian green and that same white and hit the white areas first then dry brushed the spaces between mold patches. I'm trying to replicate active mold colonies so reference photos came in handy here. I also used some nail polish to match the grommets to fabric.

Maybe when I am not crunched for time I will get around to digitizing the pattern, but for now I hope the photos help anyone else trying to plan out a mask. Obviously the shape will change a lot depending on the sort of fabric and mask you have on under it, not to mention face shape. I would imagine bifolds would give you more her classic feed bag profile than an origami style mask, however.

#my cosplay #cosplay wip #nausicaa #nausicaa of the valley of the wind #ghibli cosplay

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lightandheatao3 · 12 days

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The Bunker - Criminal Minds

Chapter 12: The Man

Summary: Spencer Reid wakes up in a locked bunker to find half the current BAU and two of its departed members unconscious on the floor. The old team is back together but the reunion is not what any of them would have wished for. An Unsub from their past has decided it's time they all stop keeping secrets, even if it means exposing them by force.

Hotch and Derek have been pulled back into a world they tried to escape. Emily, Rossi, and JJ are doing their best to keep it together. Spencer is falling apart.

AKA a found family is reunited and forced to go through the most nightmarish version of family therapy imaginable.

Set months after the end of Criminal Minds: Evolution. Evolution referenced, but not necessary to understand the story.

Chapter Summary: Spencer wakes up somewhere new.

Read chapter 12 on AO3 or under the cut. Please check AO3 for content warnings. All comments and reblogs are extremely appreciated <3 I would love to know what you like about the story :)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11

Darkness.

His eyes were open, but there was darkness.

A laugh of relief burst out of his dry, scratchy throat.

How long had he dreamed of opening his eyes to anything but cool, flickering fluorescent light? How could an absence be so beautiful?

“What’s so funny?” came a cheerful, gravelly voice behind his head.

In an instant, the comfort of darkness shifted to terror as it all came rushing back to him.

He wasn’t dead.

He could decipher his feelings about that fact later.

He jerked up, trying to put distance between himself and the voice.

A sharp burst of pain through his injured arm alerted him to the restraints. He was lying down, strapped to a bed of some kind. It was thin and uncomfortable, wobbling as he moved. Likely a camp bed or similar.

��Calm down. We wouldn't want you to hurt yourself,” the voice mocked.

It was masculine. He tried to tilt his head back and get a glimpse, now that his eyes were adjusting to the low light. Whoever it was, they were just out view, but judging by the direction of the sound, they were tall. Or the bed was just low to the ground.

“What’s your name?” asked Spencer.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he said with a laugh.

There was a hint of southern drawl.

He mentally skimmed through the profile they had been working on, readying himself to put it to the test. “It doesn’t matter anyway,” he said as dismissively as he could muster. “You’re not in charge here. Where is she? I want to speak to the woman who’s calling the shots.”

A hand came down, gripping his injured forearm. An agonizing, burning sensation shot through his entire arm and up to his shoulder, causing him to yelp in pain. Was that infection? Nerve damage? The bolt had been rusted and ragged, it could easily be both.

He took a moment to appreciate the small mercy that he was up-to-date on his tetanus shots.

A face leaned over him from behind, upside down and fitted with an N95 mask. The man was white, he thought. It was hard to tell in the lighting and with half his face covered. He was balding. He was a big guy, almost as tall as Spencer, but stocky and muscular.

The hand continued to press into the unhealed wound. What was that sensation? Gloves, he realized. The man was wearing gloves.

“It's just you and me. Is that not good enough for you?" he taunted, raising a dark eyebrow.

“Do I know you?” he asked, doing his best to sound uninterested.

“No, but I know you,” he said. He leaned away, letting go of Spencer’s arm and disappearing out of view. “You should be grateful. She’s got a soft spot for junkies and fags,” he said from somewhere further away, a sort of awe in his voice at the unthinkable benevolence of this mystery woman. “You’re all scum, far as I’m concerned.”

A dagger of ice drove its way into Spencer's chest. Was that a taunt, or did they know? Just how long had they been watching him?

He could hear rummaging. Clinking glass and plastic. “Why are you risking yourself for her? You don't have a stake in this,” he said. “Tell me what you want and I might be able to help you get it."

With every passing second he became aware of some new ache or pain. His head was pounding, probably dehydration from the blood loss. Where was the other Unsub? Had the others overpowered her? Were they safe? Is that why she wasn’t there?

“What I want,” said the man, suddenly standing by his side, giving him a clear view of his full height and weight, “is to make her happy. Lucky for you.”

The gloved hands were softer on his uninjured right arm. Not gentle by any means, but precise. It was only when the man started checking the IV that Spencer noticed he had one.

As he took stock, he realized it wasn't the only tube going into his body. A catheter. It was a pretty unmistakable sensation. He groaned.

The man held a needle up to the port just below the IV bag. Spencer tried and failed to flinch away. “What is that?”

The man tutted. “Don't pretend you don't want it.” Spencer tried to sit up, to see better, to fight. The man's free hand grabbed onto his hair, pulling tight and slamming his head backwards onto the bed. "Stop it before you rip your stitches," he commanded.

He depressed the plunger and pure panic flooded Spencer’s system. It could be anything in that syringe. Anything.

It didn’t matter how many times he had injected things into his own body. It was different when he was doing it to himself. When he was in control.

All of a sudden, he was tied to a chair in a cabin in a graveyard. “No!” he shouted, too late to do anything about it. He felt something in his cut up left arm tear open as he fought against his restraints.

Then…

Bliss.

His mind slowed. Every muscle in his over-stressed body relaxed, sinking deep into the thin padded bed beneath him. He breathed out and let his eyes droop closed.

There was a hand in his hair, but this one wasn’t pulling. It was stroking gently. He couldn’t help but lean into it. ‘No,’ he thought, fighting to gain clarity. He tried to move away from the touch, and after a moment it stopped.

“He’s too much trouble. We still have the others,” said the gravelly voice, as if from the bottom of an echoing well.

His heart sank.

The others didn’t make it out.

They were alive. He had to hold onto that. At least they were all alive.

“What if they had given up on me?” came another voice. It was soft. Gentle. Feminine. “I never would have met you.”

He latched onto the voice, trying to sift through his memories and connect it to a face. It was like wading through mud. He felt himself slipping.

The talking continued, but he couldn’t follow the words. Slowly, he drifted away.

When he woke again, his mouth felt like it was full of cotton.

For a fraction of a second, he was waking up in his apartment after taking too much the night before, like he had so many times. His body tingled and ached and felt impossibly heavy. Then he tried to raise his hands to rub at his eyes, and the harsh reality dropped on him like an anvil.

He jerked against the restraints. His injured arm was stiff, but it didn’t burn like it did before. He tilted his head up and tried to look at it.

It was bandaged. The white cloth wound all the way from the bottom of his wrist to the crook of his elbow. The image of raw, open skin pouring blood flashed in his brain.

Had he really done that to himself?

“You’re gonna have one nasty scar,” said the man in the mask cheerfully, appearing at his side.

Spencer dropped his arm, laying back on the bed. There wasn’t much else he could do.

“How long are you going to keep me here?”

“Do you have somewhere else to be?”

“Why not just keep me unconscious? Why let me wake up?” he asked, ignoring the bait.

“You tell me, Doctor,” he said, spitting the word like it was an insult.

He grabbed Spencer’s arm and prodded at the bandage, then circled around and checked the levels in his IV.

“I’m not that kind of doctor,” said Spencer, keeping his tone light. Challenging him didn’t get him very far last time. Maybe a different approach would work. “I don’t understand.”

The man looked at him like his teachers used to look at him. The ones who didn't know what to do with him, and resented him for being alive and daring to make it their problem.

“Last time we needed to know you hadn't fucked yourself up so bad you couldn't wake up. This time, I have questions. Don’t worry, you can get your precious fentanyl soon,” he said derisively.

Spencer swallowed. “That isn’t what I want.”

“Liar.”

“I’m not lying,” he said, and he meant it. The thought of being left unconscious with this man again sent chills down his spine, even as his body itched for the drug. He could feel how much the man loathed him. “Please, no more.”

“I know your type,” he said. “Used to deal with you all the time. You think cause of your job and your friends and the letters in front of your name, you’re better, but a junkie is a junkie.”

He swallowed again, wishing for a sip of water. “You’re right. I’m a junkie. But I don’t want to be,” he said, though even he couldn’t tell if he meant it or not. “You said you had questions? I’ll tell you whatever you want.”

The man looked him up and down with his dark, piercing eyes. Spencer felt exposed. Whoever this man was, he was not unintelligent or submissive like they had profiled. Whatever was going on here was a lot more complicated than that.

“Why did you slash your wrist?”

He winced. It still didn’t feel completely real. He saw Emily, her frantic, frightened eyes. He heard JJ scream.

“I wanted to talk to you and your partner. I couldn’t see another way.”

“Liar,” said the man again, exaggerating both syllables.

“I’m not lying,” he insisted.

“You wanted to die. That’s alright. I would too if I were you,” he said coolly. “Are you going to try it again?”

“No. I didn’t want to do it the first time. You forced my hand.”

Liar, his brain supplied even as the man stayed silent. You wanted it.

He tried and failed to pull away as the man put a hand on his cheek, pressing his thumb down into his throat, threatening to squeeze. He leaned in, speaking low and cold.

“You try it again, and your friends are going to pay the price. Do you believe me?”

Spencer couldn’t speak. He just nodded, hoping it was enough. He caught a glimpse of a jagged scar on the side of the man’s head, half hidden in his thinning hair.

The man released him and he sucked in a breath. “Why doesn’t she want us to know who she is?” he asked, rasping a little, knowing he was running out of time. “She’s already won. We can’t get out. Nobody knows where we are. Why hide? Doesn’t she trust you to protect her?”

The man narrowed his eyes but didn’t respond. He walked over somewhere behind him, and he heard the clinking glass that told him he was preparing a syringe.

He looked around the room, taking in as many details as possible. No windows. Lamp light only. He couldn’t find a door, it must have been behind him. The room was small. Smaller than the bunker. He saw a vent in the roof similar to the one they had in there. So, same facility? The entire place was likely underground. Industrial? Disused basement of a building? It looked old, possibly built in the 80’s. There was residue on the wall the indicated it had once been wallpapered.

The bunker was not built for them.

The thought hit him like a flash bomb. This was not a purpose-built facility. It was not made by the Unsubs; it was merely being co-opted by them. That meant there were likely records, somewhere, of the building’s existence. Which meant there would be a trail between the location and the Unsubs.

Somewhere, there was a connection that Penelope, Luke, and Tara could find.

It wasn’t much, but it was more than he’d had before.

The man was by his side again, syringe in his hand, ready to empty its contents into his IV. His stomach twisted in a sick combination of equal parts terror and anticipation. It was the same thing he’d felt by day two with Tobias Hankel, when he’d already started to want it.

“Why are you drugging me? I thought this was all to teach us a lesson. What does this teach me? That I’m an addict? I already know that,” he said. “I can’t fix it if you keep doing this to me.”

He couldn’t see the man’s mouth beneath the mask, but his eyes creased like he was smiling. “The truth isn't about fixing you. It’s about finally being who you really are. That's what you did for her. That's what she did for me.”

And with that, he depressed the plunger.

Despite his protests, Spencer was more grateful for the feeling flooding his veins than he would ever care to admit.

The next time he opened his eyes, it was to the cool fluorescent flicker that had come to haunt him.

He sat up with a jolt, coughing and scrambling back. He saw an all too familiar gloved hand in his peripheral vision, recapping a jar of smelling salts.

He turned to face the man, trying to stand from where he had been placed on the concrete floor. He was woozy and off balance. He was high, he realized. Really fucking high. He slumped to his knees, placing a hand on the ground to stop himself collapsing completely.

He caught a glimpse of his left arm. The arm that he’d cut open. He was seeing it uncovered for the very first time. However long they’d kept him unconscious for, it was long enough that the open wound had closed over and any stitches had been removed.

It was angry, red, and jagged. He stared at it, fascinated, struggling to comprehend it as a real part of his body.

The man laughed. “They’ll be waking up in a minute. If any of you fuck this up, I can hurt you all in ways you can’t imagine,” he said, sounding very much like he was salivating to do just that. “You tell them that.”

The man was out the door faster than Spencer could react, shutting it behind him with a loud clang.

He looked around, struggling to focus his eyes.

There they all were, laying unconscious, placed with a strange degree of consideration on thin foam mattresses. In fact, all of the previous amenities that had been taken from them had been returned, including the door. In the center of the room was a brown paper bag.

An alarm blared, coming from somewhere on the roof. He slammed his hands over his ears, curling in on himself.

The others stirred.

The alarm continued for another ten seconds, and by the end of it, there were five wide open sets of eyes, all looking right at him.

#criminal minds fic #spencer reid angst #aaron hotchner #bau team #bau team as family #criminal minds #criminal minds evolution #derek morgan #emily prentiss #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds hurt/comfort #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds angst #bisexual spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid #dr spencer reid

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counterintuitivecomics · 2 months

Text

Thought I'd share the Palestinian colors version of my MASK UP! poster 🍉😷🇵🇸 Thank you so much to everyone who shared and downloaded the FREE MASK UP! poster pack!

Hypothetically, you can print this on a risograph by download the design in separate color files and using red, black, and green, and it'll look basically like this mock-up. Let me know if you actually print it in any way, I'd love to hear more C:

We CAN take care of each other, and a better world is possible. If you're feeling alone and helpless, masking up with N95s/KN95s when around others, indoors AND outdoors, is a great place to start. Masking helps protect us from deadly pathogens (like viruses and smoke) PLUS it stymies police surveillance and makes events more accessible to disabled people. All our struggles against fascism and genocide are united, and Palestine will be free!

[ID: "MASK UP!" above 3 figures in different respirator masks, drawn from the waist-up and moving forward shoulder-to-shoulder, all in the colors of Palestine’s flag (red, black, white, and green). Top figure: An Arabic person in a fluttering white kufiyah over a black hijab and dress, plus a white Aura 9210+ N95 disposable mask. L: A fat teenager with monolid eyes, in a black hoodie with a genderqueer symbol, and a black disposable Laianzhi HYX1002 KN100 mask. They’re holding a box labeled FREE that’s full of COVID-19 Rapid Tests and plastic-wrapped N95s. R: middle-aged Black person in a power chair, wearing a Flo Mask eslastomeric respirator with a customized rainbow cover, a winter hat with a Disability symbol pin over mid-length dreads, and shirt featuring 6 flags. (R to L) Sudan, Democratic Republic of the Congo, Palestine, Haiti, Puerto Rico, and Tigray, Ethiopia. Underneath reads: "RESPIRATOR MASKS PROTECT: your health, your identity, and your community. Find resources near you at COVIDActionMap.org." End ID.]

#free palestine #covid isn't over #covid is airborne #mask up #disability justice #community care #lgbtq artist #disabled artist #still masking #risograph #free gaza #gaza genocide

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berniesrevolution · 1 year

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IN THESE TIMES

DES MOINES, Iowa — Wearing bright yellow Crocs, carrying a backpack and holding a clipboard stacked with papers, Ahmed Musa listens intently to a student. You would be forgiven for thinking Mr. Musa was a student himself; it is “staff dress like a student” day during spirit week at Theodore Roosevelt High School, and Mr. Musa looks the part.

Then again, Mr. Musa, 24, was a Roosevelt student not too long ago. He graduated in 2017.

He is talking with senior Jackie in a second floor hallway. She is animated, her purple and white braids falling across her baby blue N95 mask as she explains a problem. She is the president of the K-Club and there was an incident among members. The K-Club, she says, is about all things K-pop, from Korean music to food to movies to fashion. Mr. Musa laughs — he thought it was the “Kulture Club.”

Jackie goes on to give a broad overview of the situation: Racist and homophobic memes were posted in the group’s online chat of several dozen members. Tempers flared and arguments spilled over from social media into the classroom. Then a shouting match erupted during a club meeting. Fortunately, it didn’t come to blows. Members contacted the club’s teacher-advisor who contacted the school’s “restorative practices” team.

As a restoration facilitator, Mr. Musa’s job is to listen to problems and help students find solutions. Talking with Jackie that morning was the first step (a “prerestorative conference”) toward a formal “restorative circle.” Restorative circles are a group activity meant to help repair harm and restore relationships.

Jackie was one of several students I spoke with during two week-long visits to Roosevelt this year — once in the spring and once in the fall — to witness the school’s implementation of its new restorative practices program. Vanessa, a freshman struggling with the transition from remote learning during Covid, and Yonathan, a sophomore caught with drugs and weapons at school, were also among them. (Students involved in the RP program are referred to by first name to protect their privacy.)

Before the pandemic, armed officers known as “school resource officers,” or SROs, from the Des Moines Police Department would patrol the school hallways. But during the summer of racial justice marches and protests after the police murder of George Floyd, students, parents and community members spoke out against SROs at Des Moines School Board meetings. In the end, the police contract with the schools was terminated. After scrambling to make remote schooling work during the long, mournful slog of the pandemic, Des Moines Public Schools (DMPS) were left to find a way to reimagine school safety — and fast.

The district moved quickly to implement restorative practices, an increasingly popular educational model for school safety, violence prevention and mediation.

The 2021 – 2022 school year was a huge opportunity with the highest of stakes: DMPS could become one of the only districts in the nation to succeed in concurrently removing SROs and implementing restorative practices, or the district and its students could be thrown into crisis.

Restorative practices (RP) derive from “restorative justice,” which is used to bring together, in mutual agreement for mediation, the victim and the perpetrator of an offense. The goal is typically restitution for harm caused while helping the perpetrator restore community ties.

In education, “practices” is often swapped in for “justice” because it involves children who aren’t in criminal proceedings. Formal conflict resolution, after a dispute or rule-breaking, does play a role, but RP is also proactive, explains Anne Gregory, a Rutgers professor and one of the nation’s leading RP experts.

One core proactive practice is “check and connect.” This might be as simple as having teachers and staff say hi to each student as they enter the school, or asking a student between classes how their day is going. When there’s an issue, students can then sit down with a trusted adult to build “their own insight into themselves and what’s driving their behavior,” Gregory says.

Gregory emphasizes that relationship building is a two-way street. These micro-interactions of “check and connect” also change how teachers see students. They undermine “overgeneralization [and] negative stereotyping” and create space for understanding, Gregory says. When a student has “attendance problems,” for example, the right mindset involves “thinking about and understanding what’s going on for the family of that student that morning in getting out the door” — which is a “very different approach,” Gregory adds, from “sending a police officer to your house the fourth time you’re truant.”

(Continue Reading)

#politics #the left #in these times #education #Public Schools #progressive #progressive movement

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