guess who got covid in india 😫

This is the anon that requested the Raymond fluff with a sick f!reader. Thank you so much, that was honestly amazing. The worst of my symptoms are gone now but I still have an annoying cough. As a follow-up to that plot, I feel it is necessary to ask for what Raymond does after the reader is better. Like, imagine a week or 2 without Raymond being able to have sex with his s/o because she is sick. Can we have that vacation with a sexually frustrated Ray? 🤤

Taking Care [Raymond Smith]

pairing: Raymond Smith x F!Reader

summary: Once your cold wears off, you and Ray take a vacation just like he promised.

author's note: This took forever and I am so sorry about that, but I’m happy you’re doing better! I was waiting for inspiration to strike and it finally did, so I hope you enjoy it and that it was worth the wait.

warnings: NSFW [Minors DNI], touchy-feely, touch-starved!Ray, some light spanking, clothed, but unprotected sex [piv], some light dirty talk

Charlie Hunnam Masterlist | Raymond Smith Masterlist

Part I

“Hey!” a laugh ripped out of you as you twisted away from Ray’s roaming hands, “Come on, we’re not even in the room yet!” you tried to keep your voice down as he trapped you in his arms and began pressing kisses against your cheek which led down to your neck.

“I think you should get the door open then, love,” he murmured against your skin as you were fumbling with the FOB key in your hand.

After attaching his lips to one particularly sensitive spot, you squirmed in his hold to try and get away from him long enough to focus on unlocking the door. Ray was never usually this handsy in public but after a week of not spending the night in the same bed as you or even touching you as often as he was used to because of your cold, Ray found himself unable to hold back any longer now that you were back to full health.

Once the door finally beeped and unlocked, Ray beat you to the door handle and shoved the door open. Stumbling into the room, you noticed your luggage had already been brought up to your room but you were awestruck at the beautiful view in front of you outside of the window. You could see the beautiful, big body of the sea glimmering under the sunlight just a few feet out and below you and you were sure you would smell the cleansing sea salt in the air and hear the serenity of the waves crashing when you opened the window.

You now understood why Mickey and Ros came here so much. They frequented this hotel so often that this suite you were currently standing in was pretty much known to be Mickey Pearson’s personal suite that he gifted to you and Ray for the weekend the second Ray brought up taking a few days off to go on vacation with you.

The lobby of the hotel was stunning, pristine, and simply divine and gave way to the beauty of the room you were currently standing in. The room, like the lobby, was quite large with a king-sized bed sitting right in the middle of it and you were able to steal a peek into the bathroom where a rather spacious bathtub was stationed.

While you were entranced by the room, you heard Ray make a noise of disgust from behind you, his desire halting for a moment. Turning to face him, he was looking right at the bed and when you followed his gaze, it clicked.

“Come on,” you prompted, moving over to a small bag you had packed, “I’ll help you get it all set up.”

The bag was filled with some old bedsheets, pillowcases, and covers Ray had packed to replace the ones that were already dressing the bed. Ray had no intentions of sleeping on sheets that countless others had slept on and he didn’t want you sleeping on them either. The sight of the linen was almost enough to kill Ray’s mood.

Ray followed your lead and the two of you began stripping the bed together, throwing off the covers, pillowcases, and bedsheets and letting them fall into a pile on the floor in the corner of the room. You brought out the bedsheets from the bag and began to dress the bed with them. You leaned over at one edge of the bed, trying to tuck it into the corner of the bedsheet as you felt Ray pull on the opposite side and do the same. You crawled onto the bed to get the right top corner of the sheet tucked in while Ray worked on the bottom left.

Suddenly, you felt a hand slap down against your ass through your sundress causing you to protest playfully. In the middle of your protest, you felt Ray’s hand cup your core through your panties that were peeking out from the skirt of your dress. Your laughter came to a halt and was cut off by a moan as his finger began to toy with your clit through the fabric.

“You do it on purpose,” Ray hummed, “Don’t you?”

You bit your lip to hold back a smile but as Ray increased pressure, you were overcome with pleasure that you let out another moan, your hips involuntarily leaning into his touch. He couldn’t keep his hands off of you the whole car ride here, he had a hand on your bare thigh and would try and move it up, he’d steal kisses at red lights, and do everything in between. Even though you wanted to indulge him, you also wanted to make it to the hotel alive and that constituted having a focused driver. But now, you could just sit back and enjoy the feeling of his hands on you without any consequences.

Your elbows trembled with pleasure as you tried to hold your upper body up but you opted to rest down on your forearms as you felt the cool air of the room hit the back of your legs that were now exposed as Ray flipped up the skirt of your dress. He rounded his hands to your hips where the waistband of your panties were and pulled them down to your knees. Usually he would run his hands all over your skin, especially when you were in such a position where he could see the wet patch forming on the cotton, but he didn’t have the patience now. He wasn’t being slow about it, he wasn’t be kind about it, he needed to be inside you now. It was unspoken, but the both of you knew that this vacation was going to be used to make up for lost time while you were sick.

The two of you hadn’t slept in the same bed for the past week and kept touching and kissing to minimum to minimize the spread from you to him. It was lonely and frustrating at times but now, as his cock was finally unsheathed from his restricting pants and running along your wet cunt, it proved to be all worth it in the end.

Your hips had a mind of their own as they began to thrust back, hoping to impale yourself on his dick as you clenched around nothing. The sight was enough to make Ray groan from behind you, so you did it again, hoping to lure him in. A moan was pushed out of you as you felt Ray’s cock start to enter your warm, wet walls. A deep need had just begun to be satiated as you felt as full as you’d ever felt with him inside of you. You felt your limbs quivering as you held yourself up as best as you could while you took some time to adjust.

Ray let you take the lead as he felt your hips thrust against him as you began to fuck yourself on his cock. Your skyrocketing desire gave you the strength to push up onto your hands and use the grip as leverage to thrust back harder and faster. Ray was loving it, groaning at just how slick and tight you were around him.

“That’s it,” he praised, his hand striking your ass and letting the sound of the impact echo in the room and mingle with your yelp of pleasure, “Good girl,” his eyes were transfixed with the sight in front of him.

Ray’s hips grew a mind of their own as they began meeting your thrusts halfway. He regained control as he grabbed onto your hips, squeezing them as he began to control the rhythm of your movement. The action tore moan after moan out of you, with no regard for your neighbours. Hopefully they were out enjoying the warm weather right about now.

Ray built up to a relentless pace and force, feeling the dam of held back feelings be released and he was pouring them into you. Your moans spurred him on as he felt his heart thundering in his chest as his pleasure was increasing tenfold. The nights he spent without you had him reminiscing on late nights where he’d desperately bury his cock in you and fuck you relentlessly after a hard day’s work. His imagination did not do you justice, he had almost forgotten just how well you fit him as you were squeezing him in all the right places. Ray was focused and calculated but when you squeezed him just right, he couldn’t stop the groans of pleasure that escaped him and the momentary stutter of his hips at the devastating bliss.

You splayed a hand out in front of you on the headboard to keep up with Ray’s thrusts and you felt him lean over your back and grip your chin in his hand, turning your head to face him. You looked up at him to see his blue eyes almost black with the amount of lust that was swimming in them. His mouth was slightly agape and panting and you couldn’t hold back on your desire to kiss him and let your tongue explore his mouth. His thrusts had slowed, making his thrusts deep and long until they came to a pause as you got lost in the kiss. Your moans had turned to whimpers and you wanted to devour him on the spot.

Your arms were growing tired so you used one hand to cup the back of his head as you slowly began to lower yourself down to the bed below you. Ray pulled out and away for a moment to let you adjust to a more comfortable position. As he hovered over you, you lay down on your side, legs tucked up and feet landing on the back of his thigh, before you were clawing at the shirt he was wearing.

“Take it off,” you panted, reaching for the hem of it and lifting it.

Ray sat himself up on his knees as he pulled his shirt off of him before grasping onto the thin strap of your dress that was resting on your bare shoulder and tugging it down. You lifted yourself up to pull the other strap down your other arm, exposing your breasts. His hand clutched onto your left one, massaging it and rolling the nipple between his forefinger and thumb. You leaned up and began pressing kisses on his neck and his now exposed collarbones, your tongue peeking out to run against the damp skin. Your fingers trailed down his muscled torso until they wrapped around him. You stroked him a few times, being unable to resist, watching the way a breath punched out of him. You ran the tip though your soaked cunt before you were guiding him back in.

Once the tip was buried in you, Ray wasted no time slamming his hips straight against yours.

“Fuck Ray,” you cried out, your eyes screwing shut in bliss. “Feels so good.”

You clutched onto his bicep as his thrusts were more forceful and he only gave you a second to recover before he slammed into you again. You felt your body rock up the bed at the force of his thrusts and your grasp on his arm was doing little to keep you in place. You were a moaning mess and Ray watched as your tits bounced in the wake of his thrusts.

“We’re not leaving this room until I’m completely through with you,” he promised through gritted teeth, “Until you can’t cum anymore.”

Being this close to you after staying having to stay so far for so long sparked a fresh desire in Ray and he was desperate to watch you fall apart beneath him the way you have so many times before. He let the weight of his hips crash into yours faster and faster and he relished in the way the grip you had on his arms tightened. Ray hooked one of his forearms under your leg and raised it slightly, splaying his hand across your thigh before he let it roam between your legs.

His finger found your clit and began to rub quick and tight circles on it to sync up with his thrusts. You choked out a string of curse words as your pussy began to flutter around him. Ray’s groans and grunts got lost in your moans as they echoed throughout the room along with the rapid slapping of skin on skin as he felt his body going rigid. When you threw your head back, screwed your eyes shut and began chanting his name, he knew he didn’t stand a chance, especially with the way you were squeezing him.

“Fuck,” the curse word rumbled in Ray’s chest and he thrusted even faster. The sound of his name leaving your mouth in a high pitched scream made his eyes roll back into his head before he shut them. He couldn’t hold back as he began painting your walls and his head was clouding with pleasure. He didn’t even know what he said in those moments, something of a mix of your name and a few curse words for sure, maybe a praise was thrown in there as well somewhere.

Ray’s hips stilled finally and once he was coming down from his high, his body went limp, almost collapsing completely on top of yours and you welcomed it, wrapping an arm around his back as the two of you panted. It wasn’t long before Ray felt you plant kisses on the top of his head that was resting on your shoulder. He was sure his hair was a mess at this point, but it didn’t matter, because it was only bound to get messier from here on out.

Absentmindedly, Ray pressed a kiss along the bare skin of your shoulder and along the side of your neck.

A few moments later, Ray felt you pushing him off. He raised his body weight only for you to push him onto his back. Confusion turned into realization which gave way to even more lust as you mounted his hips then lowered yourself onto his cock. The two of you hissed at the sensitivity but once you were seated, Ray didn’t want you to get off.

A Wild Game Of Survival

Pairing: Dark Loki x Female Reader, Loki/Sigyn

Warnings: Major Character Death, Violence, Language, Dark, Loki (he is a warning). Each chapter will have individual warnings.

Summary: In a world where everyone is immortal until they meet their soulmates, I expect to have a nice life with them and I was so wrong.

Notes: yes, it has first person narration. It's an old one.

Chapter 3: Captured

Warnings: Violence, Loki, hate on sex workers, kidnapping, hostage, starvation, dehydration, biting, infections, cursing, mentions of sex assault (not graphic and doesn't happen. Loki is bad but not that bad)

Summary: hospitality gone wrong

Notes: this is the darkest chapter in the piece. You can hate on Loki for this one, he had it coming.

First chapter previous chapter AO3 next chapter

I woke up in a dark room, a small lamp on top of my head being the only light. I saw a door with no handle but no windows, and a small toilet. I was underground.

The door opened and I proceeded to slam my kidnapper with a blast of light, but his Darkforce swallowed it and left me panting.

"If you don't want to die of fatigue, you should stop attacking me with Lightforce. I will consume it," Loki's voice said in an imitating tone. He had the upper hand and he knew it.

"Open the hole, whore," He commanded, his fingers squeezing the right place to force my mouth open. His other hand took a spoon and shoved it inside before closing my mouth and nose.

"You sick bastard," My full of hatred comment made him cast an empty smile, some faint lines popping on the edge of his eyes.

"What? You expected a five star hotel? Maybe some hugs and soft kisses on the forehead? Didn't they teach you how cruel life is?" He mocked.

I was unchained, so I attacked him physically. He easily grabbed my hand and his green force held every muscle of me.

"Listen well, you little whore, for I will say this once. If you attack me again, I will pull off your limbs and let you starve in these four walls, dying while covered in your own piss and shit." He spat, jaw clenched in anger.

"You lie." I said more to myself than to him.

"You wish I do, darling," The sick smile was still on his face. I relaxed, knowing that I should wait for the right moment before I strike.

"Good whore… You became a whore, didn't you? "Pay me $100 and I am yours tonight," Oh, what we do for survival…" His words hurt like lemons in the wounds, but I hid it under a cold face.

"I would rather a thousand lifetimes as a "whore" than one as a killer," I shot back, his smile widening.

"What do you think you will become after you kill me? A heroine? You hate me for killing my soulmates but you dream about the same act every time you close your eyes. You are funny, the funniest I met. A funny whore," The way he used that name again and again scared me. Did he want to rape me before killing me.

I didn't speak, and it only pleased him more.

"What's the matter, dear? Did the snake bite your tongue?" He chuckled, his cold hand grabbing me by the jaw when I broke eye contact and forcing me to look at him.

"Rule two if you don't want to starve, never break eye contact. I want to see the fear and hate in you," He demanded. I didn't react, I just waited for him to let me.

He did it after a few moments, a bottle of water falling beside me before he left. I waited until I was sure he was not watching before I emptied it.

I needed a plan to get the hell out of here. I can't use Lightforce, not until he's too weak to use Darkforce. So, I will have to weaken him with physical strength. Unexpectedly, while he's vulnerable. I have to wait until I find a hole in the armour to poke. Then I run, or I kill him. Or, I wait for the right moment to take away his new toy, to take my own life. The next one can carry the mission to kill him, if I fail.

But for now, I have to play his game and wait.

~~~

Later, I wish I knew how much time later, the metal door opened again. Loki walked in with a tray of food.

"When did I order and I don't remember it?" I asked, more curious than hateful.

"You need food to stay strong enough for me to feed. Apparently, your Lightforce gives me strength. You are more important alive than dead, make sure to stay like that." He spat. So, that was his plan? To milk me? He left the tray in front of me and sat half a meter away, his eyes pinned on me.

"What are you doing?" I asked, my eyebrows raised.

"Waiting for you to finish your food. You have five minutes to begin eating before I force it in your throat." His voice was still plain and cold, but I didn't buy it.

"You won't," I commented, sure he was lying. Too sure. And like Icarus who floated too high, I got burned and fell.

He grabbed the tray with the rice and held me with his magic as he grabbed me with one strong hand by the jaw.

The fever made him slow. I grabbed him by the back of the head and slammed him hard on the toilet. It would not kill him, but the concussion would be awful and the infection would make it worse. I jumped up and ran like my life depended on it. Because it did.

"Swallow or choke," He demanded again. I swallowed only after the lack of air made me dizzy. I then bit his hand.

"Ouch, you bitch!" He yelled, taking the bleeding hand away from me. I didn't answer, preparing my next movement.

"Got anything to say? Like an apology before I let you die in here?" He was furious, I knew it. But I would not be a disciplined sheep.

I opened my mouth only to spit on his face, hitting my aim in the eyes. He raised the non harmed arm, ready to slap me before he lowered it again and chuckled.

"You shouldn't waste your fluids like that," He said before leaving, taking the full tray with him.

I am fucked.

~~~

Probably three days passed, if I judge on my symptoms.

Peeing was in the past, and so was sweating. I was lost in my mind, trying not to faint. I knew that if I closed my dried eyelids, they would not open again. But their weight was getting more and more.

He didn't lie, he was determined to let me die in here.

My body was too weak to move, not having to piss or shit helped with the embarrassment. I could feel a strong pain in my right, probably my liver screaming at me. But I couldn't do something. I was trapped, abandoned to die.

My eyes finally closed as I let go and gave up, tired of being a human raisin. I was about to dive into nothingness. But something changed.

I felt something liquid on my lips. Water. Sweet water. I drank and drank and drank, I thought I would explode. I stopped only after the source dried out. I then casted my light to heal me, since I was strong enough.

That was a mistake.

I opened my eyes to see Loki grabbing me, an empty bottle on his one hand and the other one covered in darkness as he was feeding with my light.

"Let me heal, at least," I hummed, my voice still too weak.

"You did." He answered shortly.

I sighed, waiting for him to finish before I can heal myself. He soonly let me, the black hand revealing a bandage on the palm, exactly where I bit him.

"Did you learn your lesson?" He asked. I didn't speak. Another mistake.

"Answer when I speak to you!" He yelled, his good hand slamming the wall behind me. But I didn't flinch.

"I can bite you and you need me to fix it. Also, am I still delirious or are you sweating in a cold room?" I listed the information I obtained. He was indeed sweating and he looked paler, weaker. Light-headed, feverish, infected. He bled when I bit, and his mouth was dirty. I infected him. I am still weak. But high chances are that I heal and he worsens. I had my chance to leave.

He looks annoyed but too tired to argue.

"The lesson is that you don't bite," His voice came out throaty, I noted and nodded. He left me a tray of food and another bottle of water and sat half a meter away. I had to play with his rules, until I am strong enough to escape.

So, I grabbed the spoon and started eating the soup in silence, not looking up at him as he was watching me. It was a plain and salty thing, probably canned and heated, but my hunger made it taste like heaven. I only stopped when the kidnapper interrupted.

"That doesn't sound good," I commented as Loki was clearing his throat, trying to get his breathing in control after a pretty bad coughing fit. That's why he took my Lightforce, he needed it to heal himself. But it was not enough.

"Mind your own business, whore," He barked, voice still raspy.

"Touche," I basically sang and started eating again, ignoring him completely this time.

After I finished, I pushed the empty tray at him, knowing that he didn't trust me with the spoons and forks. He simply grabbed it and stood up in a smooth move, turning on his heels and leaving before closing the door. I plastered my ear on the door, waiting until his steps vanish before I heal myself completely, drink some more water and fall asleep to gain back my lost energy.

It was the best decision I made in that room.

~~~

I woke up when a hand banged the metal door. I was on my feet when I saw an extremely weak Loki, like I predicted, standing in there.

"Can you cast Lightforce?" His Old Norse accent was so hard I barely understood him. I nodded.

"Do you want to feed or to heal?" I asked, quickly catching up with the situation.

"Healing," He mumbled and laid on my stomach without a warning.

"What will I get in return?" I bargained. We both know who had the upper hand now.

"A week," He answered shortly, and a bad coughing fit stopped him from speaking more.

"Damn… That infection really got into you… I think I should clean up my mouth," I mumbled.

"When?" He asked, mocking me. I could feel how much he was burning against my stomach.

"My schedule is pretty flexible," I smiled.

ａｓｈｏｒｅ[ii]

pairing: bodevan cash x reader genre: Doctor! AU, Romance, Angst summary: After a fall out with your fianceé, and an opportunity to chase your dreams, you embark into a medical mission trip to Namibia where you run into self-taught doctor Bodevan Cash. Love ensues. word count: 3.1k

❝how  foolish  to  believe  we  are  more  powerful  than  the  sea  or  the  sky. ❞                                                                                                         ― ruta  spetys

ONE ｓｅｖｅｎ ｄａｙｓ

◄ ｐｒｅｖ

You really, really hope some patient shows up today. That the doorbell announces the arrival of a doctor seeker. That you will be able to aid someone apart from the hangover teen (also staying at the Shipwreck Lodge Hotel, three cabins left from yours) who came looking for aspirins and serum. That you didn't cross the ocean on a medical mission trip only to crawl back into Ethan's arms drown-and-out —no adventures, no anecdotes, no experiences or anything for the matter.

You groan out loud, a stream of curses following shortly after. It's been seven days since your arrival to Möwe Bay, Namibia. Seven days of only you, your self-destructive mind and Guns N' Roses playing on the stereo (the single thing that has kept you sane).

"This trip was supposed to take my attention away from you," the words are purled and aimed to the exquisite ring around your finger. At the sight of it, your heart drops lower into your stomach. This been useless. You're trapped with your thoughts in the middle of nowhere. The sand dunes were chosen for their location, there was supposed to be no hospitals, no dispensaries, no medical aid...Nothing! Apparently, there's also no patients. Hence, no distractions. Which means? More time to stare at your flipping engagement ring.

Frustrated, you close your eyes and, confirming your hypothesis, the immediate image that triumphs the darkness is Ethan's blue eyes lighting up as you gasped —amidst weeps— at the ring. The one nowadays, you tend to resent.

The memory sends your stomach into knots. How are you supposed to make amends with Ethan's hidden truth if you can't bring your mind elsewhere? Far, far away from the burn around your knuckles each time the ring appears on your range of vision.

Ethan supported your decision to embark on a trip alone. He knows joining Doctors Without Borders was a dream of yours, and that marrying a Surgeon Chief would make it unreachable. The main reason you asked and he agreed, however, was that you went hysterical when Ethan's soon-to-be ex-wife surprised both of you at the hospital, your hospital—the hospital you worked at.

In a couple months, you will take Ethan Gandy as your husband, and he completely forgot to mention he has been married before. Worse than that, really. He didn't think of sharing with you that he still is married.

Ethan and Harper have been separated for six years, way before you came into the picture, and she knew about your existence all along. The divorce has been in the works since your very first date —or so Ethan says —,and Harper doesn't love Ethan anymore, Ethan loves you and not Harper, and by the time you return to Manhattan, their marriage would've seen its last dawn. Nevertheless, you have yet to make amends with it, chew it the enough to swallow it down your throat until you make sure it will settle in your gut and that you won't throw it up.

You need to. Because you love him.

When Ethan proposed, kneeled beside the fireplace at his hometown in Alaska, not once you considered saying no. It felt meant to be. Both valued your career, both spent more hours at the hospital than at home, but both were willing to make it work. You could handle it, you could make love at the examination rooms, most importantly, you wanted to spend the rest life with him, no matter the sacrifices. Because the truth is, before Ethan, you have only fallen in love with medicine, and he quickly became your very own McDreamy.

You met him during your first year as a Resident. He moved to New York for a fellowship in surgery, and he was brilliant, in every way. You admired him from afar, heard all the wonders he pulled on the O.R until one day you diagnosed a weird case of sudden onset of total vision loss that required urgent surgery. You worked together on the case, medical talk evolved into personal questions, winks, shy smiles on the halls up till Ethan stopped the elevator, cupped both sides of your face, and kissed you. He was ten years older than you, and the age difference didn't prevent him from becoming your very own definition of love. If looks could kill, his would make love to you. Ethan yearned for you, you yearned for him —every day, every hour, every minute. From your skin to your bones, you were his.

Ethan was a goodbye you couldn't say, and you feared —especially when he got promoted to Chief— that at some point your busy schedules would force a breakup, a disagreement, or maybe a stupid fight over a toaster. But then one snowy night, he soothed the worries away when he popped the question at a cabin in the middle of the woods, over a cup of Rioja and the most endearing words. The ring was a dream, with engraved diamonds around a sapphire, because several times during your relationship, you would look up at him with stars in your eyes, and whisper how much you treasure the sapphire blue of his orbs.

It is that shade of blue that ascertained you belong wherever he breathed, but the colour turned grey when his wife —ex-wife— came into your life.

Ah, Ethan has a wife.

You force yourself to neglect the ideas aside, though you can't seem to do so. Ethan doesn't love her, he didn't cheat on her with you, yet... it is hard to acknowledge the man you will marry already waited for a bride to walk down the aisle. Ethan promised to spend the rest of his life with another girl, and he did not fulfil that promise once... What makes you think he will keep his vows to you?

"So much for that," you curse again.

"So much for what?" comes a voice behind you, "I'm plainly in urgent need of Corticosteroids."

You turn on your heels, Guns N' Roses play This I Love, and you face a worried looking man. He has long, brown hair, and the bags under his eyes are a shade of plum. Is he an addict? The perspiration over his forehead and anxiety might be symptoms of withdrawal...He isn't puking, though, and he isn't trembling either. In fact, he seems worried, but he is patiently standing at the doorframe, waiting for your response.  

A response you don't seem to form. It could be the song, the waves crashing on the shore, or the fact you only had an Americano as breakfast, but the words have died in your throat, and you're entirely at a loss of action. This weird-looking boy feels magnetic, your body seems made of metal, and there's a force attracting you towards him. Maybe is because he looks out of a movie, with his psychedelic 70's style and the evident social awkwardness aura, but then Axl Rose sings about how he searched the universe and found himself within' her eyes and you realise that the magnet comes from his eyes. They're blue, not sapphire blue, ocean blue and they call to you.

After a second, you clear your throat, "I cannot hand you a drug without a prescription, sir. I need to examine you first."

"The patient isn't myself," he stutters. Hurriedly, he extends a hand your way, "Bodevan Cash."

As soon as your hand gets trapped in his, electricity jolts inside you. To your relief, he cuts it short, shaking your hand briefly. "What are the Corticosteroids for, Mr Cash?"

"Bo. You can call me Bo," right after he finishes, he drags his gaze away from yours. "Shortcut for B-Bodevan." His left foot bounces, anxious, and he's brought up his bottom lip between his teeth. He babbles, and it makes you nervous as well, "Eighteen Year-old. Preeclamptic toxaemia. Twenty weeks of gestation."

You abruptly realise the stethoscope around his neck. Right. He is a doctor.  

"How serious?" you blurt. This is your chance to practice medicine. Finally. "I-I'm an internist. I might be of help."

Bodevan glances at you, questioningly, then he returns his attention to the floor, "Are you a Christian?"

For the first time in seven days, you laugh, "No. I am not." The laughter is a gruff, gravelly thing, the kind of chortle you would have expected from an old man, a lifetime smoker, not a successful young doctor who is about to marry the love of her life.

Bo's face pinched up in a crooked smile, "Good." He grabs your coffee cup, takes a big slurp and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. Then he is out.

Unsure of what is meant to be your next move, you don't follow him outdoor. Not until he asks you to hasten in a very weirdly-worded polite way.

Bodevan is waiting for you beside his combi, which is parked on a parch of grass beside your cabin. When he spots you, medical kit tightly clasped, he runs around to open the passenger door for you. Once you're close by, he offers a hand to help you up. You ignore if the source of the live wires across your bloodstream is the gentle touch of his calloused fingers or the insides of the van. Your jaw drops. It is dramatically different from Ethan's BMW but in a better way. Bodevan adapted the vehicle into an Examination Room, and the work is so well done and complete it even has a couch so the patients can sit at the reception. <<A reception. Inside. A. Combi.>>

The doctor is now at the drivers-side of the van, the window rolled down. He reaches inside and flips the lock. It takes Bodevan less than a minute to hop inside, and even less to ignite the combi and speed across the sand-path highway.

"Moharerwa. Our Patient," he speaks. "She refuses the induced labour procedure."

It all makes sense now.

"You want the Corticosteroids to buy her time," that's why Bo is in such a hurry, probably also why he is anxious. He needs to medicate her corticosteroid to prolong her pregnancy and help the baby's lungs become more mature in little time to prepare it for life outside the womb. And Bo needs to do it fast, or else Moharerwa's preeclampsia will evolve into eclampsia, and she'll perish.

"The baby's life is the priority?" If she's 20 weeks pregnant, there's no other reason why she isn't on an O.R at this very moment, than to gain more time for her premature baby.

"For her," Bo says, his voice an octave lower. "For me, they both are."

You lean against the hood of the truck, not knowing what to say back, and allowing the classical music blasting from the speakers to continue their excellent job of keeping your thoughts away from Ethan Gandy.

And near the possibilities to save lives today.

Twenty minutes later, Bodevan murmurs —you're having a hard time deciphering if he's mumbling things to himself or to you—, that you've reached the destination. Eyebrows knitted, you wonder if the giant teepee in front of you hides a clinic instead of fancy carpets for a picnic at the Skeleton Coast.

"Let's go," he says, briefly meeting your eyes. As soon as you nod, Bo rushes out of the vehicle and into the teepee. You follow suit, every bit of amazed by your discovers. At least ten people are laying on cots, covered by colourful blankets in tribal patterns, and other five people have beelined at the couch inside Bo's combi. There's a wall with porcelain jars labelled with medicine and herbs names, a chest of drawers with mortars and pestles on its surface, and a portrait of Mao Zedong in the middle of it all.

The weirdness of the surroundings amazes you, but your attention is consumed by Bodevan Cash wearing a white coat, concerned eyes as he exchanges words with a red-skinned pretty girl. She must belong to the Himbas. You've read about the tradition of the Himba women apply red ochre butter to their skin and hair each morning. She is gorgeous, and so is the pregnant girl (Moharerwa, you assume) laying on the cot, where Bodevan is leaned into as he continues talking in an unknown language.

The concern in his gaze is familiar. You've seen it in Ethan's features when his patients are on a thin line against the veil of death.

"Tell Rellian to prepare," he instructs, getting rid of his white coat. You don't know if it's a good idea to chase his trace outside, but your feet didn't wait for your decision.

Bodevan takes his tank-top off, brings his hair into a bun and carefully lays down on the sand. He stares at the ocean as if the motion of the waves would induce the same rhythm to his heart. Then he brings his tighs, arms and palms into a lotus position as the salty-foam of the sea kisses his toes.

The last thing you want to do is disturb him, especially now that he's about to go on surgery, but your subconscious has a different plan, and she's made sure to glue your eyes at the muscles of his back, shifting each time he breathes in and out. He utters two words in a language you can't understand and ends his meditation by getting on his feet. Bodevan's palms are pressed together, thumbs close to his chest, and fingers pointing upwards when he slightly bows at the ocean, "Namaste."

He hesitates at your figure waiting for him, and for the tenth time today, he avoids your gaze, this time by looking down at his footprints on the wet sand, the ones that lead straight to you. Bodevan grabs his stethoscope and places it over the left side of his chest. He still neglects your stare, blue eyes dancing from one side to another, as his lips count his heartbeats. Satisfied by the cadence, he nods to himself.

Finally, Bodevan approaches you, "I need to scrub in. Moharerwa has signs of Fetal Distress and Placental Abruption." The sound of his voice is careful, laced with concern, but you're unsure if he's worried about you peace of mind, or his upcoming surgery. "Could you take over the clinic for me? I've rounds to make and six patients waiting to be examined. Peraa will help you out. She's kind of -the n-nurse here."

Kind of?

What he means with kind of?

Each word coming out of Bodavan's pretty lips increase your questions about the workflow in this clinic. He's got a kind-of-a-nurse, and he will scrub in with only his brother to assist him. No anesthesiologists, no scrub tech, no circulating tech, no nurses —because apparently, he's got any, just one that kind of is.

Bo notices your worrisome instantly. "Let me check your heart rate," he untangles the stethoscope from around his neck and places it over the skin of your chest. He explains his modus-operandi, the charts you will take over, and how Peraa can be of help.

Afterwards —and you don't know if he's doing for you or for himself— he goes over the surgery procedure. You swallow, trying to even your heart rate because the number of contractions per minute has increased considerably. Maybe it is rushing out because Bodevan is shirtless, acting all doctor like, and he seems like a flipping genius. He's an expert on anaesthesia, he's memorised the surgery, and diagnosed Moharerwa in a heartbeat. Most importantly, he comprehends the importance of engaging with a fresh mind and spirit, which lots of doctors doesn't. 

Bodevan bites his lower lip, considering for a while, and that's when you know you're doomed.

"It's… faster than average…" slowly, Bo averts his eyes to find yours, lips stretching into a crooked smirk. You, on the other hand, flush a beet red. Saving you from your embarrassment is the fact that he seems as nervous as you (Thank the heavens!). He moves closer, ear tips removed, and his index and middle finger rest over your neck, at the side of your windpipe.

For the first time since you met him, he is gazing down directly at you. There's not a shy look-away, or discomfort present on his body language, quite the contrary. He's grabbed your shaky hands and entwine them with his. But you're no fool, you distinguish what the shape of his mouth is silently counting. You know he's trying to ease his heart rate as well. Bodevan rests his forehead against yours, "Close your eyes, please. A little while."

"Okay," you murmur shyly, casting your eyes downward to the sight of your intertwined palms before allowing your lids to flutter shut.

"Even your pulse, cool down your breathing," he murmurs, but nonetheless shrugs nonchalantly. His hands have freed yours only to travel upside to reach your shoulders, where they hold reassuringly. "There's no pressure, we do what we can, we try, we try hard, but we are not overpowered by the pressure."

Of course, you know that, and you're thankful for his kind words. Moreover, you are grateful because he thinks that's the cause of your uneven heart rate when, in reality, he is the one rushing it. He makes you nervous. Really flipping nervous.

When you open up your eyes to meet his, he's staring intently at you, with the same wildness you've grown accustomed in the few hours you've met him. His eyes are blue like the ocean, blue like a sunless sky. You met a sky without a sun, and a man without floor — a doctor who's clinic is a teepee, who meditates before surgery, who seems to be every medical specialist. And know, although is weird and you don't know what the hell is wrong with you, something in your inside squirms and yells today you found a pair of eyes you cannot live without.

Bodavan intrigues you, out of extent. You've crossed the globe, travelled from New York to Namibia, have a fianceé, and yet, you've never encounter eyes like his.

"How are you feeling?" he asks.

"Your eyes look like the morning sky," you mumble, every inch a fool. He smiles.

"And yours look like chocolate."  

A pinch of guilt turns your throat into knots. The last thing you want is to "feel you belong" in the reflection of Bodevan's eyes. You don't belong in África, miles away from everything you're close of. You belong with your family, your friends, people you know how they're really like, not someone you've just met. You belong with Ethan. You still had no idea what you were doing here, other than hiding out very temporarily while Ethan took care of his… divorce. After that, you were going to take a plane back home.

Right?

The Yamada Family as told by Haruka

“I’d never thought I’d use this old thing my mother gave me, but I need someone, or something, to talk to after being silent for over 13 years about this. My name is Haruka Yamada, and I’ve gone by my maiden name since I got away from my ex-husband. I met him when I was just 17. He was 19, but I didn’t know it at the time. Besides, he was cute. He started waiting for me after school and we’d hang out together. He flirted and hit on me pretty strongly. Before long, we were dating, and then sleeping together. The other girls at school gossiped about me and him pretty frequently, but at the time, I didn’t care. Then I suddenly started feeling sick all the time, sore everywhere. I worried that I had become pregnant, or worse, what he’d say if he found out. So I tried to hide my symptoms, but within a few months it was obvious. I was growing faster than normal and it was only a matter of time before everyone knew. When my parents found out, they tracked him down and demanded he pay for what had happened because they knew he was behind it all. He said he cared about me --ha, isn’t that funny-- and that he wanted to marry me so that I could live with him. My parents were soooo against this idea. First this man shows up and impregnantes their daughter and now he wants to take her away? I loved him, well, at least I thought I did. So we eloped to a corner in Japan and got married there. I was probably 7 months ahead by then, fit to burst. After the wedding we lived in a small but cozy cabin, where I went into labor and gave birth to Theo and Trent. Imagine the shock I felt when I realized I was carrying not one, but TWO boys in my belly, ha ha ha. But...I couldn’t help but feel that something was off about him...with the way he held the twins in his arms, a forced smile.”

We were one happy family...for a few years. For some reason, he didn’t like Trent and how I’d spend more time nursing him and his brother than I did pleasing him. Trent cried often, and it got him angry. Sometimes he’d throw things at Trent or try to hit him to shut him up. I always caught him and put a stop to it, sometimes bearing the brunt of his wrath instead. I had to keep them both close, not knowing what he might do to them if I wasn’t around. I tried everything to get him to calm down, think of our kids...he cursed at them and said it would have been better if they had been aborted. When he said that, I heard a tiny gasp from behind me.It was Trent at 3 years old, all tiny and trembling. There were tears in his eyes. He asked me what his father meant by that....I didn’t say anything at the time, but he eventually found out when he got older. I suspected he would only get worse as time went in, and that I needed to look out for my children’s safety. So,I contacted my parents, and after a lenghty session of tears and apologies from both ends, we made plans to meet somewhere so a family member could pick us up and take us to a safer location. But our plans were soon discovered. He started behaving the same way he used to when we first met, talking about how he wanted to have a beautiful life with me and the kids. I...almost fell for it again, but then he started talking about wanting to get me pregnant again. For some reason, I knew he was talking about keeping me trapped here so I couldn’t escape. If I got pregant again, it would be even harder for me to find a safe space to raise the twins. One night, while he slept, I got the twins out of bed, told them to pack their things into their little suitcases. I only packed a few clothes for myself, some money, and the recording device I’m using now. For a very long time, I couldn’t bring myself to use it.”

“The three of us met my father at the meeting point we had discussed over the phone. I told him it was no longer safe for us to be in Japan, not with their father out there. My father...cried...when he heard that, but he understood what I had to do. We only spent a few nights at a hotel, but we had gotten booked to a flight to America. They gave me enough money to stay at an apartment for a while. They drove us to the airport, and we ran through like our lives depended on it. It kinda did, to be honest. We didn’t look back until we got off the plane and into our cab to the apartment.

“When we got to our apartment, I took the two of them in my arms and sighed in relief. He couldn’t hurt us anymore. I got a job as a waitress and have been supporting this little family of ours for years. It wasn’t until the boys were 12 that Trent came out. He walked up to me with a choppy hair cut and told me he wanted to be called Trent from now on. Which is why I have two sons. And I love them both.”

“The boys grew up so fast, let me tell you. Before I knew it, they were in middle school about to graduate. They got invited to some end of year party for the graduates. Trent was thrilled. It was their first school party. Theo...was less keen on going, but I wanted him to have a little fun. He did, after all, graduate as the valedictorian. It took a bit of coaxing, but Theo agreed to go as long as I promised to take him home if he felt overwhelmed. And so, I dropped them off at the party and stayed at home to relax. I guess I got too relaxed, because by the time I got out of the tub, my phone had several text messages and missed calls, all from Theo. The texts started off calm, but got more desperate and terrified as they progressed until they just...stopped. I got out in a rush, grabbing my bag to go pick them up from the party when the doorburst open. Theo rushed by, his face a blur but I could tell he was upset, with Trent trailing behind him. I tried asking what was wrong, but he ran to his room and locked the door. I asked Trent, but he too said he didn’t know what was wrong. Theo didn’t speak to anyone for several days. Something happened at that party...I just know it.”

“Whatever happened to Theo at that party, it changed him, and not in a good way. He would flinch and snap at whoever came near him. He wouldn’t let either me or Trent hug him anymore. My maternal senses were tingling. Someone hurt my son and made him afraid to say. But he wouldn’t tell me who, much less that it happened in the first place. At first, I tried to be very vague about it, telling him that if he needed to talk about whatever’s bothering him but he rudely brushed me off. Of course...I became angry. Soon, we wouldn’t be able to get in a few words without turning into a yelling match. Why was someone who used to be such a sweet kid now so cold towards everyone? I’m his mother, why won’t he let me help him?!Does he...does he think what happened to him is my fault? Trent’s? If I am to blame, I want to fix things for him...make everything ok. But he won’t tell me and everything’s not ok. For him, for me, for everyone in the family.”

“The boys went to high school and got involved in their own things. Theo got into student govenment stuff, and Trent joined the performing arts kids at school. With Theo doing important things with the student govenment and Trent at rehersals every day, I rarely see my boys home before the sun goes down. At least...Trent still speaks to me. Theo just comes home, eats, and heads to his room for the night. The boys are seniors now...they’re going  to go off to college soon. It’s been 3 years since everything changed between us. I wish...I wish I knew how to help Theo before it’s too late.”

Karkinos (Bucky x reader) part 1

Karkinos: crab that helped Hydra to defeat Hercules.

Summary: you’re captured by HYDRA and they torture you. One day you get help and escape. Do you plan on joining the avengers? And what are the effects of HYDRA’s torturing.

summary part 1: your time in HYDRA.

Warnings: cursing, fighting, torture

“Shit” i muttered  to myself grabbing my bag and running as fast as possible. I could hear them yelling behind me, footsteps not far away and gunshots echoing off the walls. A few days ago I found a secret Hydra base. I spied on the base and concluded that it was a small one, easy to take out on my own, but boy was I wrong. I know I should have given an anonymous tip to the avengers but I really thought I could do this one. I don’t want them to bother with something if I can easily solve it myself.

I can hear the soldiers yell at each other, they are getting closer. Taking a turn I see 5 hydra soldier running up to me, when I look back I see another 6 of them getting closer and aiming their guns. I can’t take 11 heavily armed soldier out on my own, I know that but I have to try. Launching at the 6 soldier behind me and able to kill one off them I feel a sting in my leg. I fall to the ground and the soldier grabs me and put handcuffs on me they rid me of my weapons and drag me down the hall. I feel the blood dripping down my leg. We enter a room with unknown machinery and people in lab coats. The soldiers throw me in a chair and make sure I can’t escape. One of the ‘doctors’ approaches me with some tools and start digging in my leg, I scream out in pain while de man tries to get the bulled out. The man finished and quickly stiches me up. the soldier suddenly stand straighter and a man walks in the room and stands in front of me. “Look at that, (y/n)(y/l/n). What a pleasure to finally meet you.” I spit in his face and he waives his hand at a soldier behind him. The soldier walks up to me and hits me in the face. “You should know better than to spit in my face, I’m not the one trapped in a chair.” He wipes his face and gives the ‘doctors’ a nod. The chair starts leaning back and soon I’m laying down. “You probably wonder who I am, my name is John Wilson and I am the director of this base.” Of course I knew who he was. I have been spying on this place for the last few days. He walks next to me while explaining himself. “ I have been keeping an eye on you miss (y/l/n), you are trained in Hung Ga, Wing Chun, Ninjutsu and Judo. You work small jobs to pay for the chitty hotels you’ve been staying in and have no social life whatsoever. Nobody will miss you because you’re already a ghost. The perfect candidate for another experiment don’t you think.” He looked at the ‘doctors’ and left with a smile. 4 of the soldiers following him out of the room, 2 of the other soldier guard the door, one stand against the gray ugly wall on the left of me and another on the right. The other 3 soldiers stand at the other side of the room but a can’t see them. 4 doctors in total, all of them working with chemicals and serums. I try to pull at the straps on my wrists and ankles but it’s to tight and strong. One of the doctors puts a mask on my face I try to move away but I can only move a little and the doctor succeeds. My eyelids become heavy and soon I fall asleep.

I wake up in a dark room. Dark grey dusty walls, the air is damp and cold. There is only one door and no windows. The door opens and 2 soldiers walk in, I am too drugged to fight back an let them handcuff me and take me out of the room. Another soldier stands at the outside of the room and takes the lead walking through the small dark halls. I don’t recognize the hall although I learned all of them when I was preparing for the mission. They open a door with a code and when I look inside I know for sure I am somewhere else. The room is big and has a white floor, white walls and white ceiling. Again they strap me in a chair and the soldiers leave. At my right side I notice a window and at the other side of the window I see doctors and computers. I hear a door open and close behind me and a doctor wearing a protection suit comes up to me holding some kind of tube with green liquid he pours the liquid into a flask and adds a yellowish kind of liquid. He pours the mixture in a syringe and walks up to me. “after you have given her the serum you must leave the room as quickly as possible.” I hear a doctor say on the other side of the window. I try to move and grunt but again no luck. The doctor injects me and leaves. It burns, I can feel the liquid moving in my body. The doctors stare at me as if I just did the impossible. “ first test on subject 48 is a success, 48 shows no sign of burns, rash or others symptoms.” I grunt and tense my whole body as a reaction to the pain. “ 48 shows signs of pain but nothing else.” Again soldier come in and take me back to my room. Everyday they inject me again sometimes more, I only get 1 meal a day but I don’t lose weight. All I do is lay on the cold floor of the cell and still, I get stronger, but I am exhausted. I can’t sleep because I don’t have any kind of bed, I have to pee in a bucket that gets refreshed every week. And I never see the sun or hear the birds. When I’m in the cell I hear nothing but the footsteps of the soldiers passing by every now and then. After a few weeks maybe months of this the doctors decide to give me another formula of the serum. They inject the serum and this time it doesn’t burn it almost tickles like when you drink water after a long work out. It feels refreshing. Again they put me in my cell but the feeling doesn’t pass. I don’t get any injections anymore, I just sit in the cell.

Until one day. I feel my hands warming up, warmer and warmer. I started screaming but nobody is going to help me here, they just walk past. My hands start glowing and suddenly I gave this little ball of light floating in the palms of my hands. It’s peaceful but how did I do that. The next day, well I guess it’s the next day, soldiers once again take me to a room this time there are other people and guessing from their appearance they went through the same as I did. “ subjects 50,48,26, 67and 41 welcome to the training room. Each one of you survived the first phase to a new world. But we only need 1 subject and that is the strongest, smartest and most skilled one. Those who claim unusable will be executed. So don’t hold back. The first test is speed. If you don’t outrun the trained dogs you will die, as dogfood. They haven’t eaten in a long time and don’t mind killing for it”. One of the walls opens to see a open field and after that a forest. From the other wall we hear barking and grumbling. One of the other subjects starts running but doesn’t get far.

“No cheating, or you will suffer the same fate as subject 26.” The voice says. The dogs are free and everyone starts running. I quickly pass the field and get to the forest. I climb into a tree as high as possible and start jumping from branch to branch. the barking faded and when I look behind me I see one of the others getting attacked in the open field. The screaming stops and the only thing i hear are the dogs growling and feasting on the fresh meat. I keep going further into the forest until I see a wall. This base is way bigger then the one I attacked a few months ago. A door in the wall opens and I go inside. There is a doctor and several soldiers waiting for the ones that survived. As the doctor starts talking you realize that this is the same man as the one giving you the orders. “ well done 50,48 and 67. You are the survivors of the first test. The next exam will test your mind. Each one of you will walk into a different room through one of the doors to your left. 50 you take the left, 48 you take the 3th door and 67 the fifth. Good luck.” The man smirked and left. We walk up to our doors and open them. I go inside and when I turn around the door closes and there is no handle to open it. There are no other doors in the room. “I need to escape this room as soon as possible I guess.” I look up  but the ceiling has no escape options. The room is dark so I concentrate and make a ball of light in my hand. I try to put it down on the table in the middle of the room so it’s easier to look around and search through the boxes and move the furniture with both hands. “ I guess I need to find the handle of the door because there are no other escaping options and the door used to have one.” After searching for a while I find clue, a note that read. ‘I am here, I am now and I am everywhere. You can’t see me but you know I am here. You blame me for what I take and never thank me for what I give.’ I repeat the sentence in a whisper while I look around the room. I look at the wall and see a clock. “of course, it’s time!” I walk to the wall and take the clock. There is a piece of the handle for the door taped at the back of the clock. “Okey that’s one. Now the other part.” After searching for a while I still haven’t found any new clues. “ I need to improvise. I have the part of the handle that attaches the actual handle to the lock on the door so in just need something to use as a handle that fits the part I already have.” I notice a metal pipe that could be useful but it doesn’t fit. I see gum and use it to attach the pipe and the other piece together. It works. I open the door and see that I am the first one out. A few minutes later the second one opens the door and there is screaming from the still locked room. Again the doctor approaches us and claps his hands together 3 times. “ well done 48 and 67. Now for the final test you will need to fight each other until only one of you is still standing and breathing. If you don’t fight you will both die.” He leaves, guns that are controlled by computers aim in our direction and 67 looks me in the eyes. “we don’t’ have to fight we can escape together.” “Then we will both die and I rather don’t take that chance.” 67 wad a male, tall and muscular. He looks me in the eyes and launches himself towards me. He goes for a punch but I dodge it and grab his arm twisting it the wrong way. He screams and I let go. He falls to the ground and the bones in his arms cracked back into place. He healed his arm and attacked me again. I dodge down so I lift him up and let him fall to the ground. “ we both have abilities and we can use them against the soldiers and if we don’t succeed we at least died with dignity and a right mind.” The man looked at me but didn’t listen he stood up and ran to the side of the room. He grabs a pipe laying on the floor and throws it at me with an unhuman force. I try to dodge but he controls the pipe and hits me in the stomach. I fall down and the man starts hitting me in the face. I try to get him off without hurting him to much but I can’t. If one of us survives it should be the one that wouldn’t cooperate with HYDRA and I was sure that this man would do anything to survive. I placed my hand on the man’s head, I concentrated and soon light came out of his mouth and eyes. The light overwhelmed him and his body went limp. I calmed down and pushed the man off of me. Again the doctor came in. “ subject 48 you have proved us that the formula we gave you is the most powerful one you are the first of many superhumans that not only have more strength or stamina but also powers. 48 you are the first of many whom we call Karkinos.

14. Just sit down and let me take care of you Chris and Rebecca 😉😘

Sorry, nosmut, I don’t remember how straight sex works. xD Takes placearound the hotel scene in Vendetta. Sorry, not sure about how accurate this iswith the details I’m mentioning regarding the movie, I’ve only seen it once.Also I’m ignoring “Biohazard the stage” because I know next to nothing of it otherthan the spine of the plot.

“Wow, whatservice,” Rebecca remarked happily, her eyebrow quirked when she discoveredChris at the door to her hotel room. He was holding two cardboard mugs (withboth of their names spelled wrong, how that was even possible was beyond Rebecca,or “Repecka” as she was named according to her mug) and smiled sweetly.

“Ah, youknow me, I’m big but well-mannered,” he said as she stepped aside to allow himin and closed the door behind him.

“I alsoknow a saying… the bigger the man, the smaller the manhood.”

“Hah!”Chris guffawed, “Whoever came up with that must’ve been a tiny fellow. Like achihuahua, what he lacked in size, he made up for in viciousness,” he grinnedand handed her the mug.

“I’m sureyou’re right,” Rebecca smirked and took a sip. The coffee was nowhere nearsweet enough for her liking, but she didn’t let it show; he couldn’t have knownand he’d meant well.

“Ah, damnit,” she then hissed when a jolt of pain lanced through the side of her neckand spread in a hot whiplash all the way up to her scalp.

“Whathappened?” Chris frowned.

“It’snothing, I just have this neck pain… or it’s not really my neck that hurts, it’smy head, but I think the reason for it is my neck. That’s what I get forsitting at a computer all day,” Rebecca dismissed and brought her hand tosqueeze her neck as she tried stretching her neck and rolled her shoulder alittle. The muffled pops and cracks she heard from her joints made her feel alittle grossed out.

“Maybe Ican help.”

“Oh? Areyou a physical therapist now too?” she teased and he chuckled.

“No, but Isee one on a weekly basis, so I’ve picked up some tips and tricks.”

“It’s okay,you don’t need to…”

“Come on.Just sit down and let me take care of you,” he said and she sighed, shrugging alittle and gave in. He moved to stand behind her and squeezed her shoulders acouple of times before running his hands over her shoulder blades, giving her aquick rub down to “warm up” before settling his hands on the base of her neckand driving his thumbs into the trapezius muscles.

“Ow, geez,”Rebecca exclaimed when she felt a twinge on the top of her head when he pressedon a spot in her neck.

“Am I beingtoo rough?”

“No, it’sjust… I didn’t realize there was a connection between there and the top of myhead,” she muttered through clenched teeth as she tried to tolerate thepressure. In all honesty, she would’ve appreciated a lighter touch, but at thesame time, she doubted a little tickling would help.

“You’d besurprised if you knew what exactly connects where. I once had this ridiculousfeeling of pressure in my head and for a while there, I thought I had an earinfection or a brain tumor or something. Turns out my traps were tense near myshoulder blade and they were pinching on a nerve that reaches all the way tothe face and head. Never would’ve made the connection,” he said.

“That’swhat I have,” Rebecca said when she realized she shared the same symptoms.

“Really?Well, then I know how to fix it,” he chuckled and ran his fingers down alongthe sides of her shoulder blades, slowly traveling lower, pausing along the wayto dig his thumbs deeper into certain spots and waited to see if Rebecca wouldreact.

“Rightthere,” she grunted when he hit the spot and moved to grip her shoulder withhis right hand and pressed the ball of his left hand over the area and began toslowly massage it.

“This wouldbe easier if you were lying down,” he remarked and she scoffed amusedly.

“I should’veknown you’d say that at some point.”“Simplystating a fact,” Chris said innocently.

“Fine, butI’m keeping my shirt on,” Rebecca said and moved onto the bed.“I wouldn’thave it any other way,” he smiled.

Oh, boy, okay… Rebecca sighed internally when she felt themattress give in underneath his weight as he settled to straddle the backs ofher thighs and leaned forward to knead the muscles on her back.

“You know,you could prevent this if you did some exercises during your work day.”

“What, likepush ups? Yeah, that wouldn’t look ridiculous at all,” Rebecca mumbled into thepillow, her voice thick with sarcasm.

“I meantmore like get one of those rubber bands and do some stretches with it every nowand then, but push ups aren’t a bad idea either,” Chris said, his smile audiblein his voice.

“Oh, rightthere,” she suddenly hissed through clenched teeth and he paused at the spot he’dbeen working on, focusing on the side of her shoulder blade.

“Does ithurt?”“Yes, butit’s a good hurt.”

“Okay, butjust tell me if I’m using too much force, I don’t want to leave you sorer thanyou were before,” Chris said and Rebecca chuckled quietly. If someone were tohear their conversation and take it out of context, it might sound a little suggestive.Chris didn’t seem to notice, or if he did, he didn’t make it obvious.

Same old Chris, she mused. He had always been the oblivioustype, dedicated to his work with such intensity it was as if he was wearing apair of blinders preventing him from getting distracted by anything, allowinghim to keep his focus solely on the goal right in front of him; the goal alwayshaving been the same.

WhileRebecca was no stranger to dedicating a lot of time and effort to her work, sheknew to take a break now and then. Chris had never known when to quit, in goodor in bad. She couldn’t help but think it had to be a lonely existence.

“Hm, you’regonna have to stop or I’ll fall asleep,” she mumbled then.

“Well, Idon’t think that would be a bad thing, you were supposed to be resting in thefirst place,” he reminded her, his touch lighter now, almost a mere caress.

“I know,but falling asleep this early would mess up my rhythm. Thank you, I do feelbetter,” she then protested a little and began to get up.

“All right,but I want you to promise me you won’t stay up all night working,” Chris saidand got up.

“Yes, sir,”she said dutifully and smiled. “I could use a little bit of fresh air,” shethen said, opened the door to the balcony and stepped out.

“And Icould use a smoke break,” Chris seized his opportunity and dug out a pack fromhis pocket.

“I thoughtyou’d given up,” Rebecca said, crossing her arms over her abdomen and gave hima scolding look. “It’ll stunt your growth,” she added and Chris burst outlaughing.

“I’ll takemy chances,” he said and raised his arm a little, pretending to use Rebecca asan armrest for a while to exaggerate their height difference.

“Haw-haw,”she commented dryly at his antics. “So, what is this expert we’re going to meetlike?” she then asked, leaning her side to the railing.

“Well, wehaven’t always seen eye to eye, but he’s one of the good guys,” Chris assuredand exhaled a cloud of smoke. “He’s hit a bit of rough patch, so it might takesome convincing, but we’ll get there.”

Once he wasdone with his cigarette, he put it out in his coffee mug which was still halffull of coffee that had gone cold long ago.

“I shouldget out of your hair, let you get some sleep,” Chris said as they went backinto the room.

“You don’t…have to,” Rebecca said, “I wouldn’t mind the company to be honest.”

Chrisnodded slowly. He didn’t think she was scared to sleep alone, she’d never beenone to scare easily, she was a lot tougher than she looked. But that said, asfar as he knew, she’d lived a pretty normal life since everything that’dhappened in Raccoon City. He doubted she had the need let alone the desire tothink back on that incident, and she usually worked as an advisor, not a fieldagent. Maybe the recent attack had brought back some bad memories.

He didn’tblame her for not wanting to be alone right now. Come to think of it, he couldn’treally remember the last time he’d not beenalone either.

“Uhm… well,I mean… the bed does look morecomfortable than the bunk at the B.S.A.A. mobile unit,” he mumbled into hispalm as he ran his hand over his mouth, his unshaven cheeks and chin making aquiet scratching sound as he did so.

“It’ssettled then. Now, brush your teeth and get ready to for bed.”

“Yes, ma’am,”he saluted her dutifully.

A fewminutes later, they lay in bed, Chris on his side with his right arm tuckedunder the pillow for extra support, Rebecca in front of him with her back tohim. She scooted closer, reaching behind her and grabbed Chris’s wrist andpulled his arm around herself.

“This isnot an invitation for more than sleep, just so you know.”

“I wouldn’tdream of it. I told you, I’m big, but well-mannered,” Chris assured with asmile and rested his chin on the top of her head.

“That youare, Chris. That you are.”

via Today Bharat Ten patients died in the fire accident at a COVID Care Centre in Vijayawada on Sunday morning. The power went out around 4.30 am on Sunday morning. Sujatha woke up in the dark, feeling suffocated. “I couldn’t breathe, there was smoke everywhere. I tried to open the door but there was too much smoke and heat coming in from that side so I had to shut it,” she recounts. Sujatha was one of the 30 patients housed in the COVID Care Centre at Hotel Swarna Palace in Vijayawada, where a deadly fire accident happened on Sunday morning. The hotel was leased by Ramesh Hospitals, a private healthcare facility, and converted into a COVID Care Centre to treat patients with mild symptoms. Most of the patients had woken up just like Sujatha, alone in their quarantine rooms in the dark morning hours, to the stifling smoke and sounds of panic. A fire had broken out on the ground floor, and quickly spread, as dense smoke slowly filled the rooms. Of the 30 patients and nearly 13 medical staff who went through the ordeal, ten people were killed in the fire. The three women and seven men who died were among the 30 people who had either contracted COVID-19, or were suffering mild symptoms, and wanted to isolate themselves to keep their families safe before their test results returned. Some of them, like Sujatha, were from Vijayawada. Some had come from nearby towns like Mangalagiri or Jaggayyapeta, to the nearest metropolitan area where they could find a comfortable paid COVID care facility. They were all isolated in their rooms, away from family. Many of them had mild symptoms. Some, like Alla Bakshu, were still awaiting their COVID-19 test result. “At first, I thought it might be a general power cut and stayed in bed. In ten minutes, I heard sounds of people running and crying for help,” Alla Bakshu recalls. He was on the third floor, as the fire raged in the lower floors. He tried opening the door and immediately realised it was a terrible idea, like Sujatha did around the same time, in a different room on the same floor. Sujatha tried to open the window so she could breathe. “The window wouldn’t open, no matter how much I tried. I considered breaking it, but after a few more minutes of struggle, it opened. By then, the fire engines had arrived. The others were also shouting from their windows, calling for help. The room was entirely filled with smoke by then,” she recalls. ‘There is some smell’ Unable to leave their rooms and find solace with the other strangers, many like Sujatha and Alla Bakshu waited alone in fear, for 30 minutes to two hours in some cases, to be rescued. Siva Prasad Rao, who was also staying on the third floor, had a friend staying on the second floor. For the past couple of days, Prasad had lost his appetite, and also had mild fever. As his friend had opted for the COVID Care Centre, he thought it might be a good idea and got himself admitted. On Sunday morning, soon after the power went off, he got a call from his friend. “He said to me, ‘Prasad, if the power hasn’t immediately returned in such a big hotel, something must be wrong. There is some smell, do you feel it?” The smell entered the room first, followed by the smoke, which became denser every passing second. Within 15 minutes, the entire room was filled with smoke. “I thought I would be scorched if I stepped outside the door,” he says. It was still dark outside. Prasad was able to open one of the window glasses, and on the phone, his friend told him to climb out onto the small, cantilever-like slab outside. This was the third floor, and Prasad got out and stepped onto the structure with great difficulty. The fire department personnel had arrived by then, and they were looking for the people who were trapped, with bright lights turned on. “I kept waving my hands and shouting for help but nobody heard me. There was no light by the window. Luckily, the sun came up soon, and I was able to get their attention by waving my shirt,” he recalls. But the flames were still raging in the lower floors, and it took about an hour for the firefighters to douse them before rescuing Prasad. While Prasad was already outside, Sujatha says the firemen had to break the windows of her room and help her out onto the slab so she could go down by the ladder. Sujatha says a few people on the first floor seemed to have jumped from their windows or balconies before the fire turned fatal for them. Hanumantha Rao on the other hand, stayed shut inside his third floor room for two hours and still survived. “I called the hospital authorities, they didn't take my call. I then called my son in Mangalagiri. He advised me to stuff cloth near the door openings to stop the smoke.” Hanumantha Rao followed his son’s advice and sat on the floor of his room until the fire subsided. He safely walked out of the hotel by the stairs, around 7 am. He is now under isolation at a different hotel in the city, like many of the survivors. Alla Bakshu on the other hand was too distressed by the incident, and decided to isolate himself at his home in Kanchikacherla. “I am still waiting for my COVID-19 test results. I was supposed to get a CT scan too. They asked me to join the hospital in the morning, but I was scared so I came back home,” he says. Another survivor Srinivasa Rao calls the morning’s incident a near -death experience. While initial reports suggest a short circuit caused the fire, the exact details are being probed by a committee set up by the state government. The committee was asked on Sunday to furnish a report within 48 hours. Meanwhile, an FIR filed has been registered based on a complaint from the Mandal Revenue Officer (MRO) of Vijayawada Central, who has blamed the management of Ramesh Hospitals and Hotel Swarna Palace for the incident. The complaint claimed that the hospital and hotel management knew about electrical defects in the hotel beforehand and chose to not conduct repair works. State Health Minister Alla Kali Krishna Srinivas (Nani) told the media that it was 'unfortunate' that the government is being held accountable for the accident

The Nauru Experience: Zero-Tolerance Immigration and Suicidal Children

By Mridula Amin and Isabella Kwai, NY Times, Nov. 5, 2018

TOPSIDE, Nauru--She was 3 years old when she arrived on Nauru, a child fleeing war in Sri Lanka. Now, Sajeenthana is 8.

Her gaze is vacant. Sometimes she punches adults. And she talks about dying with ease.

“Yesterday I cut my hand,” she said in an interview here on the remote Pacific island where she was sent by the Australian government after being caught at sea. She pointed to a scar on her arm.

“One day I will kill myself,” she said. “Wait and see, when I find the knife. I don’t care about my body. “

Her father tried to calm her, but she twisted away. “It is the same as if I was in war, or here,” he said.

Sajeenthana is one of more than 3,000 refugees and asylum seekers who have been sent to Australia’s offshore detention centers since 2013. No other Australian policy has been so widely condemned by the world’s human rights activists nor so strongly defended by the country’s leaders, who have long argued it saves lives by deterring smugglers and migrants.

Now, though, the desperation has reached a new level--in part because of the United States.

Sajeenthana and her father are among the dozens of refugees on Nauru who had been expecting to be moved as part of an Obama-era deal that President Trump reluctantly agreed to honor, allowing resettlement for up to 1,250 refugees from Australia’s offshore camps.

So far, according to American officials, about 430 refugees from the camps have been resettled in the United States--but at least 70 people were rejected over the past few months.

That includes Sajeenthana and her father, Tamil refugees who fled violence at home after the Sri Lankan government crushed a Tamil insurgency.

A State Department spokeswoman did not respond to questions about the rejections, arguing the Nauru refugees are subject to the same vetting procedures as other refugees worldwide.

Australia’s Department of Home Affairs said in a statement that Nauru has “appropriate mental health assessment and treatment in place.”

But what’s clear, according to doctors and asylum seekers, is that the situation has been deteriorating for months. On Nauru, signs of suicidal children have been emerging since August. Dozens of organizations, including Doctors Without Borders (which was ejected from Nauru on Oct. 5) have been sounding the alarm. And with the hope of American resettlement diminishing, the Australian government has been forced to relent: Last week officials said they would work toward moving all children off Nauru for treatment by Christmas.

At least 92 children have been moved since August--Sajeenthana was evacuated soon after our interview--but as of Tuesday there were still 27 children on Nauru, hundreds of adults, and no long-term solution.

The families sent to Australia for care are waiting to hear if they will be sent back to Nauru. Some parents, left behind as their children are being treated, fear they will never see each other again if they apply for American resettlement, while asylum seekers from countries banned by the United States--like Iran, Syria and Somalia--lack even that possibility.

For all the asylum seekers who have called Nauru home, the psychological effects linger.

Nauru is a small island nation of about 11,000 people that takes 30 minutes by car to loop. A line of dilapidated mansions along the coast signal the island’s wealthy past; in the 1970s, it was a phosphate-rich nation with per capita income second only to Saudi Arabia.

Now, those phosphate reserves are virtually exhausted, and the country relies heavily on Australian aid. It accounted for 25 percent of Nauru’s gross domestic product last year alone.

Mathew Batsiua, a former Nauruan lawmaker who helped orchestrate the offshore arrangement, said it was meant to be a short-term deal. But the habit has been hard to break.

“Our mainstay income is purely controlled by the foreign policy of another country,” he said.

In Topside, an area of old cars and dusty brush, sits one of the two processing centers that house about 160 detainees. Hundreds of others live in community camps of modular housing. They were moved from shared tents in August, ahead of the Pacific Islands Forum, an intergovernmental meeting that Nauru hosted this year.

Sukirtha Krishnalingam, 15, said the days are a boring loop as she and her family of five--certified refugees from Sri Lanka--wait to hear if the United States will accept them. She worries about her heart condition. And she has nightmares.

“At night, she screams,” said her brother Mahinthan, 14.

In the past year, talk of suicide on the island has become more common. Young men like Abdullah Khoder, a 24-year-old Lebanese refugee, says exhaustion and hopelessness have taken a toll.

Even more alarming: Children now allude to suicide as if it were just another thunderstorm. Since 2014, 12 people have died after being detained in Australia’s offshore detention centers on Nauru and Manus Island, part of Papua New Guinea.

Christina Sivalingam, a 10-year-old Tamil girl on Nauru spoke matter-of-factly in an interview about seeing the aftermath of one death--that of an Iranian man, Fariborz Karami, who killed himself in June.

“We came off the school bus and I saw the blood--it was everywhere,” she said calmly. It took two days to clean up. She said her father also attempted suicide after treatment for his thyroid condition was delayed.

Seeing some of her friends being settled in the United States while she waits on her third appeal for asylum has only made her lonelier. She said she doesn’t feel like eating anymore.

“Why am I the only one here?” she said. “I want to go somewhere else and be happy.”

Some observers, even on Nauru, wonder if the children are refusing to eat in a bid to leave. But medical professionals who have worked on the island said the rejections by the Americans have contributed to a rapid deterioration of people’s mental states.

Dr. Beth O’Connor, a psychiatrist working with Doctors Without Borders, said that when she arrived last year, people clung to the hope of resettlement in the United States. In May, a batch of rejections plunged the camp into despair.

Mr. Karami’s death further sapped morale.

“People that just had a bit of spark in their eye still just went dull,” Dr. O’Connor said. “They felt more abandoned and left behind.”

Many of the detainees no longer hope to settle in Australia. New Zealand has offered to take in 150 refugees annually from Nauru but Scott Morrison, the Australian prime minister, has said that he will only consider the proposal if a bill is passed banning those on Nauru from ever entering Australia. Opposition lawmakers say they are open to discussion.

In the meantime, Nauru continues to draw scrutiny.

For months, doctors say, many children on Nauru have been exhibiting symptoms of resignation syndrome--a mental condition in response to trauma that involves extreme withdrawal from reality. They stopped eating, drinking and talking.

“They’d look right through you when you tried to talk to them,” Dr. O’Connor said. “We watched their weights decline and we worried that one of them would die before they got out.”

Lawyers with the National Justice Project, a nonprofit legal service, have been mobilizing. They have successfully argued for the medical evacuation of around 127 people from Nauru this year, including 44 children.

In a quarter of the cases, the government has resisted these demands in court, said George Newhouse, the group’s principal lawyer.

“We’ve never lost,” he said. “It is gut-wrenching to see children’s lives destroyed for political gain.”

A broad coalition that includes doctors, clergy, lawyers and nonprofit organizations, working under the banner #kidsoffnauru, is now calling for all asylum seekers to be evacuated.

Public opinion in Australia is turning: In one recent poll, about 80 percent of respondents supported the removal of families and children from Nauru.

Australia’s conservative government, with an election looming, is starting to shift.

“We’ve been going about this quietly,” Mr. Morrison said last week. “We haven’t been showboating.”

But there are still questions about what happens next.

Last month, Sajeenthana stopped eating. After she had spent 10 days on a saline drip in a Nauruan hospital, her father was told he had two hours to pack for Australia.

Speaking by video from Brisbane last week (we are not using her full name because of her age and the severity of her condition), Sajeenthana beamed.

“I feel better now that I am in Australia,” she said. “I’m not going back to Nauru.”

But her father is less certain. The United States rejected his application for resettlement in September. There are security guards posted outside their Brisbane hotel room, he said, and though food arrives daily, they are not allowed to leave. He wonders if they have swapped one kind of limbo for another, or if they will be forced back to Nauru.

Australia’s Home Affairs minister has said the Nauru children will not be allowed to stay.

Those left behind on Nauru pass the days, worrying and waiting.

Christina often dreams of what life would be like somewhere else, where being 10 does not mean being trapped.

A single Iranian woman who asked not to be identified because she feared for her safety said that short of attempting suicide or changing nationality, there was no way off Nauru.

She has been waiting two years for an answer to her application for resettlement in the United States--one that now seems hopeless given the Trump administration’s policies.

Each night, often after the power goes out on Nauru, she and her sister talk about life and death, and whether to harm themselves to seek freedom.