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hey-august · 1 day

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➜ A continuation of this story, based on this wonderful request!

Word count: ~1.3k

Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, buggy x amab!reader 🍆, no use of Y/N, anal sex, briefly fantasizing about other people during sex, loosely implied shanks x buggy

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Another night, another performance complete. Buggy steps out of his bathroom to empty chambers. The stage was reset in his absence with neatened bedsheets. The only lingering signs of your presence are a fresh glass of water and pain relievers on the bedside table.

That’s how each show ends. You never stayed longer than needed, and Buggy never asked. He ignored your only offer back in the beginning and that wordless decision established the roles you each played during these trysts.

Buggy sits on the edge of his empty bed to accept the small comforts you leave behind. The medicine helps alleviate the soreness spreading through his body and blooming on his skin, but it doesn’t work for the ache that lives deeper inside. A longing that is only abated when you’re pouring yourself into him while his closed eyes chase fantasies.

It’s not long before another act is scheduled and your skills are needed. Your mouth is hot on his skin, leaving a trail of wet kisses and false promises that are full of nostalgia and memories of the sea. His fingers are threaded in your hair, following your journey and afraid to be left behind. Huffs and puffs of pleasure edge into hungry requests for the scene to progress.

“P-please. I need more.”

As your presence recedes, the ache of desire grows. A thread of tension is pulled taut as you line yourself up against Buggy’s body. His ocean-colored eyes flutter open in both anticipation and confirmation. Spit and precum aid your length sliding into the pirate and splitting him open for the first time tonight.

Unprepared for the confining tightness, you hiss sharply. Buggy watches through half-lidded eyes as you throw your head back. This is different. This isn’t in the script. The improvisation changes everything and pulls him from the immersion. He can’t hear his fantasies in your voice. The fullness isn’t a memory or a desire he’s chasing. It’s you. Just you.

Frowning, Buggy squeezes his eyes shut to force you out and lock himself in. He visits each sensation - the right hand gripping his hip, his leg resting on a shoulder, hot breath wafting across his sweat-coated chest, the jolt from each rough thrust. You say the words from his imagination and from his past, but there’s a divide. A chasm that he’s sinking into.

“Hey, you still with me?”

A voice cuts through the darkness. It’s full of kindness and worry, tones that Buggy hasn’t heard in this bed before. Opening his eyes, Buggy is faced with an expression mirroring those feelings.

Buggy nods and looks away, embarrassed that you can read him so easily.

“Should we take a quick break?” you offer while running a hand along the leg hoisted over your shoulder and massaging the muscles. His body relaxes under the soothing touch.

Licking his dry lips, Buggy nods again. “Yeah,” he responds hoarsely.

You pull out slowly and lower Buggy’s leg onto the bed before finding a spot in the rumpled sheets. A heat increases in Buggy’s chest, reacting to your thoughtful movements.

You’re always mindful of the person you share this space with and it ignites a hot flame that the pirate struggles with. It makes him uncomfortable. You make him uncomfortable. That’s why he prefers when you’re someone else. It’s easier for him to pretend he’s fucking a fantasy.

And yet, the burning desire continues to consume him. Even when you take him past the brink of exhaustion, there’s still a part of him that’s unsatisfied. A part of him that’s curious. Afraid, but interested.

Buggy rolls onto his side, facing away from his confusion.

“Do you want to try something different, captain?” Your hesitant voice drifts from the side of the bed. Again, full of a softness that manages to compress Buggy’s chest.

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

A change could stitch the rift Buggy was falling into. Maybe the issue isn’t that he can't picture someone else, but that he’s chasing the wrong illusion.

A hand reaches over to brush a few strands of hair stuck to the side of Buggy’s sweaty forehead. The unexpected touch is met with a small flinch and a held breath.

“Well…who are you thinking about?”

The answer comes quickly and without thought, carried on the stuck breath that needed release.

“You.”

The bed shifts as you prop yourself up to look at the backside of the man beside you. The one who continues to avoid looking at you.

“Captain, ar-”

“Buggy.”

Silence hangs heavy in the air. You never referred to him without the title, unless you were bringing a different relationship to life.

Repeating the two syllables of his name pulls a soft sound from the captain. An enticing noise.

Your body wraps around Buggy’s, holding him to his confession. Each twitch and throb of your cock is pressed against his lower back as it cries for how badly you want him. A need that is stroked by his sneaky hand.

“Oh f-fuck,” you whine against his shoulder while bucking into his touch.

The sincerity in your voice is bewitching. It tugs at Buggy - peeling back the veil, plucking at the strings in his chest, and winding up his thread of tension. Following the lure, Buggy shifts against your body and eases himself onto your erection.

His sigh is echoed by yours dancing across his damp skin. You move slowly and intentionally, drawing out more sounds with each agonizing drag. Suckling kisses move along Buggy’s shoulder and up his neck.

“H-harder…”

A small head tilt grants you more access to his skin. Smooth and unmarked, until your teeth leave small indents and your lips bring bruises. Buggy grinds into you harder with each lingering reminder left on his body. Each one laying claim and burning with honest desire.

“Fuck, I want you so badly,” you pant. Grabbing his hip, you pull his body to meet yours and thrust your feelings deep into Buggy. “Say my name. Please, say m-my name.”

A high-pitched whine is spun into the most wonderful version of your name. Buggy repeats it, letting the taste coat his tongue and pour into him.

Anticipating the impending flood, you pump Buggy’s dick with jerky movements that smear precum all over his lower stomach and your hand.

“Cap- Buggy… Buggy, I want you to come for me. I need you to come for me.”

Desperation drips from your voice, as it drips from the head of his cock, before exploding with white hot jets.

“I’m coming, fuck- you’re making m-me come,” Buggy grunts while bucking against the sensations on both sides.

The mess is everywhere. Some clings to his abdomen, some seeps into the bed, and the remainder is coaxed to dribble on your hand. It’s not quite enough, though. Moving your hand up his body, sliding on sweat and cum, you hold him tighter and chase your release. A real release, not one that mimics someone else’s joy.

The sound of your name falling from Buggy’s painted lips fills the room and your head as you empty your balls. Your thrusts grow erratic and sloppy, disrupted by each pulse shooting deep inside Buggy.

Rubbing your face on the back of his shoulder, you press soothing kisses to each mark and murmur soft appreciations and unnecessary apologies.

Your heart beats heavily, the sound of exertion and uncertainty reverberating off of Buggy’s back. The hand wrapped around his body feels the same tempo beating in him. Before you could pull away, Buggy wraps his hand around yours.

“Don’t go,” he whispers.

You don’t answer. For a painful moment, Buggy wonders if you were going to ignore his request, just as he did once before. The sting is eased when you nod against the back of his head and tighten your embrace.

Finally, the persistent longing that had been lodged in Buggy for so long was gone. And in its absence was you. Just you.

#buggy smut #buggy x reader #buggy the clown x reader #buggy x you #x reader #buggy the clown #buggy op #opla buggy #one piece buggy #buggy the clown smut #one piece smut

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libero-de-mente · 1 month

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Giorno dopo giorno

Ieri sera ho preparato il porta pillole settimanale a mia madre.

Mentre inserivo le varie compresse contandole sottovoce per sicurezza, come quando da bambino contavo per essere sicuro di aver diviso equamente i biscotti con mio fratello, i miei pensieri hanno preso forme.

È davvero incredibile come da semplici gesti quotidiani, piccoli accadimenti che si possono incontrare durante la giornata, i miei pensieri prendano forma.

Senza forzatura, anzi non riesco a fermarli. Dirompenti.

Così mi sono ritrovato a leggere i giorni scritti sui vari comparti del porta pillole settimanale, sul passare dei giorni. Uno dopo l'altro, sembrano lenti e a volte uguali, eppure sommandoli alla fine sono una vita.

Il passare dei giorni, che trasforma le nostre esistenze in varie presenze o mancanze. Dovremmo avere tutti un porta qualcosa settimanale. Dove trovare giorno dopo giorno un sorriso, un abbraccio, una soddisfazione, un cuore che batte per noi e tanto altro.

Io stesso sono stato un amore in un lunedì, trovato nello scomparto di quel giorno da una persona. Poi giorno dopo giorno mi sono ritrovato a essere un pezzetto di relazione strappato. Non più da ricucire. Mentre io avevo ago e filo per provarci.

Nel mio porta qualcosa settimanale posso trovarci le chiacchiere notturne. Le decisioni mai prese e le scuse per cui, forse, ne è valsa la pena resistere. Ma il tempo passa e temo che i rimpianti occuperanno più spazio nel mio porta qualcosa.

Nel mio porta qualcosa troverò le parole che non ho mai detto, ma anche quelle che avrei voluto sentire.

I ciuffi degli animali che ho amato, che mi hanno lasciato comunque degli insegnamenti. Si anche loro.

Nel mio porta qualcosa ci sono le pillole di saggezza che ho letto, le compresse di amore che ho vissuto e le pastiglie dei pasticci che ho combinato.

Giorno dopo giorno, una passo dietro l'altro, mi sembrano spesso uguali e lenti. Mi fermo e mi giro, solo in quel momento mi accorgo di aver camminato per anni. Il tempo, così impalpabile spesso si maschera di noia, fregandoti. Passando veloce.

Vorrei prendere dal mio porta qualcosa settimanale un desiderio, assumerlo per via orale. Magari baciando. E tornare a sognare con il cuore vivo.

Apro spesso gli scomparti dove ci sono i sorrisi dei miei figli. Sono le medicine dell'anima migliori che io conosca. Potenti, senza controindicazioni o effetti collaterali. Bisogna solo stare attento a non assuefarmi, un giorno potrebbero allontanarsi e di sicuro mi mancherebbero come l'aria che respiro.

Vorrei mettere nel mio porta qualcosa chi dico io. Assumerla regolarmente, per essere felice.

Ma alla fine, giorno dopo giorno, sono arrivato fino qui con il mio porta qualcosa pieno di cose belle, ricordi amari e rimpianti mai dimenticati.

Ora devo ricontare le pastiglie e le compresse di mia madre, non vorrei aver sbagliato a contarle. Quando sogno da sveglio perdo il contatto con la realtà.

#libero de mente #frase #pensiero #vita #amore #frasi sulla vita #metafore #madre #sentimenti #porta pillole

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mezzopieno-news · 7 days

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ARRIVA LA PRIMA TERAPIA PER LA SLA CHE SI SCIOGLIE IN BOCCA

È stata approvata ed è ora disponibile in Italia la prima formulazione orodispersibile dell’unica molecola finora approvata per rallentare la progressione della Sclerosi Laterale Amiotrofica, il riluzolo.

Prodotta dall’azienda italiana Zambon, è una sottile pellicola da sciogliere sopra la lingua senza necessità di acqua né di sforzo muscolare, che favorisce il mantenimento dell’autonomia di chi vive con Sclerosi Laterale Amiotrofica e migliora l’aderenza terapeutica anche in caso di disfagia, la difficoltà a deglutire cibi solidi e liquidi che colpisce 8 pazienti di SLA su 10. “La disfagia condiziona la vita delle persone con la SLA: alle ripercussioni psicologiche e sociali del non poter più mangiare come un tempo, si aggiungono anche quelle sull’aderenza al trattamento. I dati di un’indagine europea mostrano che la difficoltà di deglutire abbia portato a rinunciare o a ritardare l’assunzione della terapia quotidiana. È quindi chiara la portata della formulazione orodispersibile di riluzolo potrà favorire l’assunzione della terapia – evitando di dover frantumare le compresse e rischiando quindi una perdita di principio attivo – con effetti positivi sia sull’aderenza al trattamento, sia sull’autonomia dei pazienti” commenta il Professore Adriano Chiò, Direttore della Neurologia della Città della Salute e della Scienza di Torino.

In Europa e in Italia il riluzolo è oggi l’unico farmaco approvato per la SLA. Agisce sul glutammato, un messaggero chimico del cervello e del midollo spinale che causa la distruzione delle cellule nervose se presente in quantità eccessiva. ___________________

Fonte: Zambon; Adnkronos; foto di Fernanda Latronico

VERIFICATO ALLA FONTE | Guarda il protocollo di Fact checking delle notizie di Mezzopieno

BUONE NOTIZIE CAMBIANO IL MONDO | Firma la petizione per avere più informazione positiva in giornali e telegiornali

Se trovi utile il nostro lavoro e credi nel principio del giornalismo costruttivo non-profit | sostieni Mezzopieno

#mezzopieno #tgbuonenotizie #buonenotizie #buonenotiziedalmondo

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kchasm · 1 year

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Ryu Number: Risto Mejide

Risto Mejide is a Spanish music producer, known also for his appearance as a judge on a number of reality talent shows. He's known for his harsh and caustic criticism, making him something like a Spanish Simon Cowell—

Okay, listen. I'm going to cop to this: I didn't know who Risto Mejide was a week ago and I still mostly have no idea. Everything in that last paragraph I got off a couple of Wikipedia pages. No, the reason you're seeing this Ryu Number post is because I played History Warriors, and by gum, I am going to wring this utterly minuscule drop of value out of that arid desert stone. I can't have suffered for nothing, right?

History Warriors is not a good game.

History Warriors is a fighting game in the sense that I Spy is a competitive activity—yes, that's true, but if it's the highlight of your local tourney it's a sign that something has gone terribly wrong.

The plot of the game is as follows: After the fall of Nazi Germany, Hitler was secretly tucked away into some sort of suspended storage. Now he's awake, and he's gotten access to time travel technology, which he's used to pull a number of famous historical characters (William Shakespeare, Cleopatra, Abraham Lincoln, Joan of Arc, Che Guevara, Shaka, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, and Napoleon) to the present day with the end goal of irreversibly mucking up the timeline. Not exactly high lit, but as far as an excuse to get a bunch of disparate characters at each other's throats, it's at least more creative than another martial arts tournament.

Unfortunately, History Warriors—and I've said this already but it bears repeating—is not a good game. It's a bunch of free-to-low-cost assets compressed into a weeping mass by a developer, "Clipstories, Inc.," which is almost certainly just a handful of folks in Spain who know each other. Characters all have the same standard attacks—a high punch, a low punch, a high kick, and a low kick. There are special projectile moves but attempting to view the manual from the Steam page redirects to the game's official site (as much as anything about this game can be called "official"), which... doesn't exist anymore.

The computer-controlled characters do know how to use the projectiles, of course. The projectiles are, incidentally, completely unavoidable, too large to jump and too low to duck. Can you block? You can block. The input for blocking is also the input for backing up, which is a fighting game norm, except that in History Warriors when your character is moving backward they aren't automatically blocking, as far as I can tell, so effectively what happens when you press back is that your characters blocks for a second and then starts walking backward defenselessly.

(I freely admit I might be slightly wrong there, but like hell I'm going to go back and analyze the mechanics.)

When two characters' attacks meet—two characters hit each other at the same time, in other words—rather than the attacks canceling each other out, they both go through. This means that the victor of the round is essentially decided by which character has the longest limbs (balance is a thing that happens to other fighting games). A further hampering comes in the form of hitboxes that have been placed, to put it charitably, unpredictably. Often floating an appreciatable length off from the end of a fighter's limb, in fact.

My main strategy in beating this game was to get in my opponent's space first thing before they could start throwing their impossible-to-avoid projectiles and spam a kicking to the shins. It barely worked, but it worked enough that I could get through each playable characters' lineup of opponents... after a lot of game overs, anyway (you don't have to start from the beginning if you lose—thank goodness for small favors).

The worst offense, though, after all this, is that the game isn't even entertainingly bad. Sure, on the surface—and especially with its awfully silly concept—History Warriors seems like the type of Bad Video Game that'd be perfect for some streamer to make fun of playing for a couple hours. But with every character essentially an identical fighter save for reach and the quickness with which strategy devolves into slurry, the whole damn thing is just a slog.

To wrap up this thesis: History Warriors is a bad game, and I think I've made that as clear as I can. But this is the internet, and the internet is chock full of productions of terrible quality that don't deserve a critical haranguing, stories and games and songs and videos that might accurately be called flawed or even subpar, but which were put together by creators who, for what skill they lacked, worked with sincerity and a motivation sourced from the joy of creation. I firmly believe that that's admirable in its own way—that it's behavior that ought to be encouraged, even through the stinkers.

That said—

There is no universe where this was worth fifteen dollars.

...Oh, right, Ryu Numbers. Uh, when you beat the game with a character it turns out they can't go back to their original time, so you get a still image showing what they're up to in the present day. Lincoln runs for President again, Napoleon streams video games, Che's at Occupy Wall Street—it's all very uninspired. When you beat the game as Mozart, he ends up on a talent show with an MS Paint mic.

Copyright infringement is a thing that happens to other developers, so the judges are clearly identifiable as being from Got Talent España, the Spanish version in the Got Talent franchise. From the fourth season, it seems.

See? Same digs.

Admittedly, my knowledge of the Spanish language begins and ends at "biblioteca," but Wikipedia tells me that this judge lineup consisted of Risto Mejide, Edurne, Eva Isanta, and Paz Padilla, so barring it turning out, I don't know, this particular episode had a guest replacing him and I couldn't tell because I'm garbage at facial recognition or something, Risto Mejide has a Ryu Number of 2, or 3 if you don't like Minecraft.

You know what's worse? This is probably the quickest way to get to Che Guevara, too.

#Ryu Number #minecraft #minecraft (bedrock ed.)#cleopatra #history warriors #risto mejide #super smash bros. ultimate #mario #mario's time machine #mario's time machine (pc ver.)#wolfgang amadeus mozart

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kon-igi · 2 months

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LASA

In medicina - e nello specifico nella pratica della farmacologia clinica - esiste un GROSSISSIMO PROBLEMA che è racchiuso nell'acronimo del titolo

LOOK-ALIKE/SOUND-ALIKE

che grossolanamente potrebbe essere tradotto con 'sembra uguale/ha un nome simile' e si riferisce al fatto che un operatore del sanitario potrebbe trovarsi a somministrare farmaci sbagliati perché molto simili fra di loro nell'aspetto della confezione o nel nome.

Se a chi assume uno o due farmaci saltuariamente questo può sembrare un'esagerazione, dovete pensare a quell'infermiere/a che deve preparare la terapia a decine (se non centinaia) di pazienti più volte al giorno.

Allora, come potete vedere dall'immagine, non solo uno stesso produttore tende a differenziare per colore confezioni e compresse dei dosaggi differenti ma diversi produttori concordano di rendere molto differenti nell'aspetto farmaci che hanno un nome simile oppure (soprattutto nel mercato statunitense dove ci sono meno farmaci brandizzati) evidenziare le lettere maiuscole del principo attivo simile

Tutto bello e interessante ma questa giusta pratica stamattina non mi ha evitato di fumarmi del gel idroalcolico (striscia bianca) invece del liquido per sigarette elettroniche (striscia nera).

Devo decisamente impegnarmi di più nei protocolli LASA... appena torno a respirare normalmente :(

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nebbiaprofumata · 4 months

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Un cliente è rimasto 10 minuti in contemplazione di tutti i decongestionanti in compresse.

Guardava gli scaffali da una certa distanza. Ogni tanto prendeva una scatola, se la rigirava tra le mani per visionarla da ogni angolazione e poi la rimetteva cautamente al suo posto.

Era così assorto, così immerso nel suo momento di quella che immagino fosse una profonda catarsi, che ha a malapena risposto alla mia offerta di aiuto, con un "no" appena sussurrato e un chiaro gesto di rifiuto della mano.

Una volta pago del tempo trascorso di fronte alla variegata proposta farmaceutica, è uscito senza acquistare nulla.

Valuteremo di cominciare a organizzare delle visite guidate tra gli scaffali della farmacia se inducono un tale stato di estasi e meraviglia.

#farmaciaunicavia

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totallycorrectlovquotes · 2 years

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Mr. Compress: I’m buying a chandelier at Walmart. WHO’S CLASSY NOW, B**CHES.

#mr compress #source: texts from last night #atsuhiro sako #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #incorrect quotes #bnha incorrect quotes #league of villains

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intubatedangel · 2 years

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Intermission 4 - A Day Together : Chapter 2

Here I am again with chapter 2. One more part to come in this little series. Hope you enjoy.

Story Index

Chapter 1

* * *

Carl left Anna on the floor, letting the grin crack his face as he ran to the bedroom. It grew wider when he saw what was waiting there. On the bed were two distinct groups of equipment. The first was a very basic selection, the kind of stuff you'd find in decent first aid kit. An oral airway, a face shield, and the training AED. Clearly the kind of things you'd have on scene.

The second pile included the monitor and paddles, an ambu bag, advanced airway kit, along with a fake IV and a bottle of lidocaine spray. A paramedic's selection.

Carl grabbed the first bundle and rushed back into the main room. Anna still lay there, completely limp. He could see her chest softly rising, but he ignored it, slipping back into the scene.

"Dammit, there was nothing in the kit." He muttered as he fell to his knees beside her, plunging his fingers into her neck. "Ok, her hearts still beating. Just stay with me Anna, I'm gunna get it out." He said, shuffling around to loop his knee over her hips. He gave her hips a brief squeeze, then laced his fingers together, heels of his hand settling a couple of inches below her sternum. He slowly applied pressure, pushing inwards and upwards. It was the correct technique, just slowed down to the point it was a much more sensual experience for them both.

Anna held the breath in her lungs, her chest bulging slightly. She could feel the pressure building, almost forcing to let the held breath out, but Carl reached a point, holding there for a few seconds as he could feel the thump of her heart through her compressed body, then eased off. His hands retreated just as slowly, feeling her body follow his palms back to neutral.

"Perhaps a bit harder." He murmured, leaning in and pushing his hands into her abdomen again, faster this time, maybe half the speed and force of a proper thrust.

Anna's body shifted with the thrust, sliding a fraction of an inch on the apartment floor. The pressure pushed against her lungs for another long moment, then slackened again.

"Come on Anna. I just need you spit it out." Carl said, putting a tinge of desperation into his voice. His next thrust was close to real, as close as he was willing to go. Her whole body flexed, shoulders shaking and arms shifting as Carl's hands pushed hard into her. "Come on. Come on!" He raised his voice each time he thrusted into her.

Finally, Anna couldn't hold her breath any longer, letting it burst out of her mouth in a gasping exhalation. Carl pulled his hands away crawling around to her head, tilting her head to the side, sweeping a finger between her teeth. "That's it Anna, there we go. Just breathe easy for me." He told her, stroking her hair.

Anna took in a small amount of breath, holding it once again.

"Anna. Take a breath for me darling. Anna!" Carl moved her head back straight, tilting it back and using his other hand to thrust her jaw forward gently. Through cracked eyelids Anna could see him, his head hovering just over her mouth, listening and feeling for breath. Breath she made sure to keep in her lungs. Carls fingers pressed in her neck, right on the carotid pulse point. Her heart pounded with excitement, but her hand was formed into the same signal they had used a few nights ago. A signal that indicated her heart wasn't beating.

* * *

"Dammit Anna!" Carl cried out, shifting his hands to cradle her jaw and inch her nose. He gave her a brief moment to empty her lungs, then lowered his head, sealing his mouth over hers. He exhaled, hard, but steady. Out the corner of his eye he saw her chest swell as she greedily accepted the air. From this angle it was quite the sight and Carl realised Anna hadn't told him every reason for choosing that dress. He shifted his mouth, breaking character just long enough to give her a regular kiss, tasting her cherry lip gloss, then lifted his head. Anna let the breath out gently, her chest falling as Carl shuffled to one side. Then she felt his hands land on her sternum.

"1..2..3..4..5..6..7..." He counted out loud as he pressed down hard on her chest. His strong hands pushed her sternum in a single inch. Half the depth of real compressions. Not enough to cause damage, but enough to make her belly ripple. Enough to make her shoulders pop and her head bob. Anna kept her head from moving side to side, wanting to watch him as he leaned into her. To Carl it looked as though she was nodding, encouraging him. He accepted that encouragement.

"26..27..28..29..30" He finished the round of compressions, going back to her head. He gave her another deep breath, enjoying the feeling of her lips under his. Her cheeks puffed out and her chest rose again, Carl's air filling her lungs.

"Hand me that kit!" He shouted over his shoulder to the empty space, acting as if there was someone else there with him. He reached behind himself, grabbing the cut down oral airway they'd used last time. "Here we go Anna." He whispered to her as he opened her mouth wide, slipping the airway in and resting the plastic ring on her lips. A moment later Anna felt the rubbery sensation of a valved facemask pressing over her mouth and nose, a thin elastic strap around her head securing it tightly.

Carl held it steady as he wrapped his lips over the mouthpiece and forced out another lungful of air. He would have preferred to spend a little more time giving direct mouth to mouth, but it was Anna's night, and he knew she loved the medical side.

Anna shivered. The combination of the warm breath Carl shared with her, plus the smell and feeling of the facemask thrilled her. She didn't even notice Carl had moved again until his hands were on her chest, pushing down rhythmically.

"10..11..12..13..14..15..16.. Fetch that AED! ..21..22..23..24.. Come on Anna. Come back to me babe."

He gave her another one of those amazing breaths, then leaned close to her ear. "Sure about the dress?" He asked, reaching down and placing his fingers in her hand. She gave them a single brief squeeze, then returned to her very accurate impression of unconsciousness. "Ok then." He whispered.

* * *

Anna heard the rasp of a zip and the scrunch of plastic packaging. Shortly after, Carl's fingers slipped under the plunging neckline of the dress, lifting it enough for a cool line of metal to slide beneath. The scissors were undaunted by the dress, the blades gliding from Anna's sternum to a few inches beneath her navel. She shivered again, this time from the cool air as Carl swept the dress to each side, the straps sliding down towards her elbows. There was another flickering touch of metal between her breasts, the simple bra parting easily and springing to either side.

Next came the tearing of plastic, followed by the thwap of a protective layer being removed. Anna opened her eyes a little further, just enough to see the single piece Z-pad descend towards her chest. A tingle ran down her spine as the cool gel contacted first above her right breast, then on her side below her left. Carl pressed each one hard, smoothing them to her flesh. Just like the last time they played, a small remote was pressed into Anna's hand, giving her control over her 'condition'.

"Analysing heart rhythm" The robotic voice spoke from the floor beside her. "Do not touch the patient." Despite the fact that this was all just a fantasy, Carl still waited with bated breath. "Shock advised. Charging." A whine began to build, a bar on the small screen filling rapidly. When it reached the end, a triangular button beneath the screen began to flash. "Press the orange button now." The machine spoke again.

"Get back from her. Come on baby. Shocking now!" Carl pressed the button, the machine letting out a thunking sound.

Anna timed it perfectly. She tightened every muscle in her upper body for a split second, then flicked her limbs straight after. The spasm of her body thumped softly on the floor. She let her head fall to the side, looking down her arm towards the AED and Carl's knees. She twitched her finger on the remote, as the AED did another quick analysis.

"Resume CPR for 1 minute." It spoke aloud.

"Damnit Anna." Carl whispered. Still looking down her arm, Anna watched as Carl rose up on his knees. She felt his hands land on her breastbone again, and his gentle compressions resumed. She smiled slightly around the airway, glad the mask was hiding her mouth. She could feel the way her breasts bounced and wobbled, enjoying the feeling itself, and what she suspected Carl's reaction was.

"27...28...29...30" He counted out, before leaning down over her, bracing himself with one hand on the floor above her shoulder. His other hand turned her head back upwards, holding it steady as he sealed his mouth around the valve of the mask. He exhaled steadily, filling the mask, then her cheeks, then lungs. He broke the seal, raising his head. He reached up, caressing her forehead and gently pulling open one of her eyes. She gazed up at him, saw him grinning. He gave her a quick wink, then slipped back into character.

"Come on back baby. Come back to me. Please!"

He returned to her chest, fingers laced together as he pressed on her breastbone again. He kept pressing down, way past 30, waiting instead for the AED to chime in. It did so, precisely one minute after it had told Carl to resume CPR>

"Analysing heart rhythm. Do not touch the patient." This time, Carl used the opportunity to give her another warm breath of air from his lungs. "Shock advised. Charging" He gave a second breath as the AED let out it's charging tone, then leaned back.

"Stay back from her!" Carl said to the fictional bystanders. "Shocking!"

Anna took some artistic liberties with this shock, arching her back, pressing her chest towards the ceiling. She hung like that for a full second, then let herself go limp. She dropped, limbs splaying out as her back thudded loudly against the floor.

Carl reached out with both hands, touching his fingers to her neck and her wrist, pressing against her pulse points, waiting for the AED to analyse.

"No shockable rhythm detected. Resume CPR for 1 minutes."

"No Anna! Stay with me!" Carl shouted as her kneeled closer to her again, doing as the AED told him. Through cracked eyelids Anna watched as he turned to look away, nodding his head. "You here that baby? The ambulance is almost here. Help is almost here!"

#Anna Swift #Cpr #defib #medical drama #Heimlich

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entropiceye · 4 months

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Vulnerabile

E ho camminato tanto, accompagnata soltanto dal rumore dei miei passi. Il corpo svuotato, eppure incredibilmente pesante... Quell'assordante dissonanza tra emozioni compresse e indifferenti silenzi. Un subbuglio interiore che ribolle fino ad annientarsi. Angosce che si mescolano col sangue e coi sospiri rassegnati. Occhi chiusi, mentre il confine tra vita e sogno si fa indistinto e labile. Pensavo sarebbe stato così per sempre. Una scala di grigi maldestramente miscelati, dove gli unici margini presenti erano quelli netti e scuri che io stessa tracciavo e nei quali, puntualmente, rimanevo impigliata. Lo pensavo davvero, finché pian piano ho smesso di trattenere il fiato. Finché, stropicciando gli occhi, non ho imparato a vedere attraverso le lacrime. Finché non ho imparato a smettere di nascondermi... La luce ed il colore sono filtrati dai vetri opachi della finestra. E fa male all'inizio, brucia da pazzi se per anni hai conosciuto soltanto l'oscurità. Ed è strana anche una carezza, se hai appreso di non poterti mostrare vulnerabile, di non poterti fidare. Fa paura imparare a camminare se hai paura di cadere. Fa paura finché non impari che cadere è normale. Finché non capisci che non è il fallimento che devi rifuggire, ma la paura di sbagliare, di soffrire ancora. Sono loro a paralizzarti con l'inganno di un tormento insopportabile, da evitare ad ogni costo, così... Senza che tu te ne renda conto, il costo che ti ritrovi a pagare è un'eredità di amarezza, rimpianti ed occasioni perdute. Una non-vita da spettatore arrabbiato, che cova dolore, invidia e rabbia per la gioia degli altri... Eppure sarebbe bastato, invece, quella sofferenza attraversarla... Per scoprire che sì, ti avrebbe fatto male e tanto, ma non ti avrebbe ucciso. Per scoprire che quell'ostacolo che credevi insormontabile, ora puoi lasciarlo alle tue spalle e goderti l'ebbrezza della conquista. Per realizzare che anche quando ci sentiamo soli al mondo, possiamo trovare chi, inaspettatamente, ci può tendere una mano.

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solo-stef · 5 months

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Allora, il dente e' stato tolto, poraccio, non se lo meritava ma la vita e' dura, figliolo, e oggi a te e domani si spera non a me ne' ad un altro mio dente, ma cmq ciao.

La dottoressa mi ha segnato un antibiotico perche' la situazione lo imponeva, e anche il Brufen, "perche' vedrai che passata l'anestesia sentirai male", e infatti.

Ma perche' m''e venuto in mente di prendere il Brufen da sciogliere nell'acqua che fa schifo schifissimo non si puo' bere? Sara' perche' la farmacista mi ha chiesto se lo volevo in capsule o in compresse e io le ho risposto in bustine? who knows

Quindi ricapitolando:

dente tolto, antibiotico preso, brufen anche perche' tanto la dottora lo sa che ti serve e infatti e' servito, buonanotte a tutti ciao.

#cronache del disagio

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fucktheglorydays · 5 months

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PHOTOGRAPHY - MICHAEL WOLF: TOKYO COMPRESSION

Michael Wolf nato in Germania, cresciuto negli Stati Uniti, ha vissuto e fotografato a lungo in Cina, concentrando il proprio lavoro sull'identità culturale dei popoli. In 'Tokyo Compression' mostra l'insopportabile realtà della società contemporanea, catturando brevi attimi nella metropolitana di Tokyo. Il fotografo tedesco ha dichiarato: “le fotografie rappresentano soprattutto la tragedia della condizione umana. Quello che vedete non è il risultato di una catastrofe naturale. E’ l'uomo stesso responsabile di tutto questo – un sistema spaventoso che stritola la gente”.

Michael Wolf was born in Germany and grown in the United States. He lived and photographed a long time in Cina, focusing his work on peoples cultural identity. In 'Tokyo Compression' he shows the uncomfortable reality of modern society, capturing short instants of human life within the Tokyo subway. Wolf says: “the photographs represent chiefly the tragedy of the human condition. What you see is not the result of a natural catastrophe. Man is responsible for this himself – a dreadful system for people, and by people”.

michaelwolf.com

#fuck the glory days #photography #tokyo #reportage #street photography #book

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cpr612 · 2 years

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First small resus story, so I hope you like it

P.S. English is not my native language, so I apologize in advance for the poor vocabulary and/or bad grammar

We all were on a liner taking a boat trip in NYC. She clanged tightly to her lover and did not leave him for an hour, talking about something and laughing loudly. And this is in broad daylight, in a place where there are a lot of acquaintances around! And in the end, she was not at all embarrassed by my presence either. Quite the opposite. Teasing the crowd has always been her favorite pastime. Part of me was furious, as always, when she's hanging around her Aidan, but the other part admired her audacity. “With your head held high, a beaming smile and sparkling eyes, you are very pleased with yourself, right, my kitty? The more absurd the figure of your unhappy lover looks against your background, casting guiltily fearful glances alternately at me, then at the bow of the ship, where his own wife was talking to some acquaintances now. How could you love such a nobody?”- once again flashed through my head and I turned away from this cute scene with disgust, looking at the approaching embankment.

I didn't catch exactly what happened. Just at one point, in the middle of her laughter, I heard a shrill hail. "Charlotte! Caution! The fence!" Aidan shouted in a broken voice, and when I turned around quickly, she was no longer on the deck of the ship. "Fuck" - only had time to flash through my mind as I rushed to the edge of the deck, ripping off my jacket on the move. For a moment, while I quickly took off my shoes and vest, my gaze lingered on Aidan, white as snow, standing helplessly with his arms outstretched. He was completely useless now, as he always has been. Turning away, I jumped into the dark blue abyss. It was already May, but the water was still damn cold. It took only about ten seconds before I cowardly showed myself on the surface, but it seemed to me that I have time to see the edge of her green dress. Taking in more air, I dived deeper again, desperately trying to see her in the dirty water. For a while I tossed helplessly under the water, until finally I noticed her thin hand stretched out to the sun. Without wasting another second, I covered the distance between us in two powerful jerks and grabbed her by the arms. She lied limp in my arms, and my heart skipped a beat. Holding her tightly, I began to rise to the surface. Despite her smallness, she seemed very heavy right now, my legs were tangled in her dress, and my lungs were burning, demanding oxygen.

Finally, a few meters remained to the surface, and I came up, greedily gulping air. Blinking from the sunlight, I looked around in search of the shore and saw a surprise. A meter away from us, Aidan’s head was dangling above the water. “I’ll help” - he shouted, quickly approaching me. “I’ll make it” - I replied in a rude tone, but he just nodded and pointed me on the embankment. I understood and started moving towards the shore as fast as I can. Finally reaching land, I handed her to Aidan, who has already climbed ashore, and jumped out myself.

He lied her on the ground and we both leaned over her. With trembling fingers I touched her beautiful pale neck, looking for a pulse. Few seconds passed and I looked up at Aidan. “Nothing” – I could barely whisper, but he understood, freezing in horror, even paler than before. I didn’t have any time to calm him down, so I just screamed as loud as possible to get him out of shock. ”What are you waiting for?! Call the ambulance, bring an AED or something!” He quickly obeyed and ran away on stiff legs somewhere towards the city. Then within a second, I clasped my hands in the middle of her still chest, and started pushing down furiously. “One, two, three, four, five…” – I counted automatically, while my mind had only one word in it - “please!” With every compression I did her body shook and water poured out of her mouth.

The count passed thirty, and I stopped pumping her chest, moving to her full parted lips. Pinching her nose, I tried to exhale oxygen in her lungs as much as I could. “Come on… Please, my dear…” – I whispered in her ear, after blowing into her the second time. But there was still no sign of life in her limp body so I continued giving harsh chest compressions.

I completely lost track of time, working on her repeatedly. She continued to cough up more water, but besides that there weren’t any signs of improvement. “Come on, breathe for me” I kept begging, hoping for a miracle. Finally Aidan returned with the AED and I tore the wet fabric of her dress, releasing her bare breasts. “Give the breaths” - I ordered to Aidan, while placing the pads on her naked chest. “Analysing now. Everyone stand clear” – the machine said and we both we froze in agonizing expectation. “No shockable rhythm” — AED pronounced and a groan of despair escaped from my mouth. “You can’t get up so easily! Come on, my girl, fight!” – I cried, starting working on her again. She now looked even more pale, a bruise began to appear between her breasts and her ribs were cracking with every compression I delivered. My body started demanding a pause, my hands went numb, but nothing could stop me from repeatedly pumping her heart, causing her delicate breasts to bounce. “I can’t let her go. I have no right for it. I have to bring her back…”

After few more rounds of severe compressions, the AED finally found the shockable rhythm. Without wasting any more time I set it on 200 joules and slammed the charge button. Charlotte’s body jerked from electricity, but soon became lifeless again. “No change. Charging again for 300 joules” — the machine said, as I quietly sweared. “Please, my dear, breathe for me! You’re so strong, you must make it!” – I begged again, hitting the orange button. Her body now arched back, I heard a quiet groan, but she reached the ground again as limp as before. “No change”. I almost screamed, setting the AED on 360 joules. “Everyone stand clear”. “Please come back to me, my kitty! Come on!” - I shouted when the machine delivered the third shock. Her back arched highly in the air, her all body trembled through the power of the electricity. She reached the ground for the third time, moments passed without any signs of life but then she finally gasped for air.

With a triumphal cry, I moved her to her side while she coughed up more water. Then I held her tightly to my chest, covering her with random kisses. “Ryan…” - she whispered, semi-conscious, trying to focus her emerald eyes on my face.

“It’s okay, I’m here, my dear. You’re doing great…” I replied, while stroking her head and rocking her like a baby, not quite sure whom I wanted to comfort more, her or myself. We remained in the same position until the sounds of sirens were heard. Lifting my head, I collided with Aidan gaze, only now remembering his existence. He looked terribly embarrassed and it gave me a malicious pleasure. With Charlotte in my arms, I got up and slowly approached the ambulance, explaining the situation to the medics who ran up. Aidan was trailing behind.

“If you’re her husband, you of course can come with us” - the doctor replied, lying her on the stretcher, and then turned to Aidan. “And who’s this young man?..”

“Her brother-in-law” — I quickly answered and then turned to him. “Please, Aidan, if you want to be useful, go and call your own wife. Poor Maggie must have gone crazy with worry. Take care of her first, and then both of you come to the hospital.” He was about to object, but then quickly lowered his eyes, realizing the justice of what has been said. “Call me when you arrive.” — he only managed to say before the ambulance's doors shut, leaving him alone on the street.

Halfway to hospital, I leaned in to Charlotte, squeezing her hand and whisper in her ear. “I’m here, my kitty, and all will be okay. You can't get away from me that easily…”

#cpr resus #cpr #resus #defib #chest compressions

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mezzopieno-news · 2 months

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ARRIVA IL FARMACO BLOCCA LE METASTASI DEL TUMORE POLMONARE

È arrivata in Italia una nuova terapia che riesce a bloccare la progressione di un tipo di neoplasia ai polmoni che ha già sviluppato metastasi cerebrali.

Il lorlatinib può essere assunto quotidianamente per via orale tramite compresse ed è stato reso rimborsabile dal Servizio Sanitario Nazionale, è in grado di rendere inoffensivi i tumori ALK positivi, quelli che colpiscono prevalentemente i giovani e le persone sotto i 50 anni. Questo sottotipo di tumore polmonare è molto aggressivo e il nuovo principio riesce a superare la barriera ematoencefalica e ad agire a livello cerebrale, anche su pazienti precedentemente trattati senza successo con altre terapie. “Gli esiti dello studio CROWN, sui quali si è basato il via libera di Aifa, indicano che lorlatinib è più efficace delle cure che finora abbiamo considerato standard… Il 72% dei partecipanti ha visto sparire le metastasi cerebrali e un ulteriore 10% ha comunque avuto una risposta intracranica; il 64% dei malati a tre anni dall’inizio di lorlatinib non è andato in progressione (rispetto al 19% di chi assumeva la terapia finora standard)” spiega Filippo de Marinis, direttore della Divisione di Oncologia toracica dell’Istituto Europeo di Oncologia.

Nel 2023 sono stati in Italia 44mila nuovi casi di tumore polmonare, uno dei più difficili da trattare; più del 70% dei pazienti arriva alla diagnosi quando la malattia è già in stadio avanzato ed esistono poche cure per questo tipo di cancro, soprattutto quando si presentano già delle metastasi.

___________________

Fonte: Agenzia Italiana del Farmaco; Filippo de Marinis; foto di Anna Shvets

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#mezzopieno #tgbuonenotizie #buonenotizie #buonenotiziedalmondo

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