umm i need reassurance that my presence is wanted but i can’t ask for reassurance because that’s really Embarrassing and it wouldn’t feel genuine if i asked for it
1) Vaping is confirmed to cause cancer. Vaping coats the lungs with toxic substances, such as heavy metals and benzene, which are known to cause cancer
2) Many vapes contain diacetyl, which, when inhaled causes popcorn lung, or scarring of the lung
3) Ultrafine particles, when being inhaled, can be lodged in the trachea (not good!)
4) Ultrafine particles can also constrict the arteries in the lungs potentially causing A HEART ATTACK
5) Vaping is relatively new. Not much studies have been done in comparison to tobacco. Plus, the vaping companies are powerful people. There is a large chance that they are purposely downplaying and even burying any evidence that vaping is harmful - just like the tobacco companies before them. They do not care about you, or your health, or the truth. They only care for money
Please I’m begging yall as an asthmatic, your fruit-flavored vapor will still give people around you who are smoke-sensitive attacks. So will weed. Don’t do it inside; if you’re at a bus stop or something try to not stand right next to people or move downwind of them if you can.
Let's not forget that vaping companies increasingly are, or are owned by, Big Tobacco - the same people, with the same destructive goals, have identified e-cigarettes/vaping as their path to continued societal acceptance and financial gain. Same old, same old. Big Tobacco largely aren't allowed to hook children on their traditional products any more so they are desperate to hook the next generation on vapes before they are regulated the same way cigarettes and other tobacco products are.
As promised, here is a preview of what I am working on. A slow build to be sure but it's been a while since I posted something and I'm still working on closing up some fics but life has been extremely busy!
I'll also be responding to those in my inbox - I didn't forget you, I promise!
Dennis Baker x Female Reader
Word Count: 925
Warnings: None for now, just some world building.
-
He keeps his eyes on the road, lifting a shaky hand to bring the insulated mug to his lips, swallowing down a sip as an 80’s synth pop song plays faintly in the background. Dennis has always been a nervous sort but today he’s much worse for wear, talkative at first about his new promotion until the city became a distant past, the highway stretching longer than before, his silence almost unnerving. His fingers grip the steering wheel tight, a cheerful commercial breaking through as you strain to listen to it.
“Come on down to Delilah’s Discount Deals! Where there’s something for everyone,” the upbeat spokesperson invites before the music starts again.
Enough is enough.
Your boyfriend’s jaw is clenched so tight that you wonder if he’ll break a tooth, placing your hand on his over the gear shift as he looks down under his clear framed glasses.
“Hey,” you begin, seeing him smile for a scant second. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” he answers, his eyes going back on the road. “Why?”
“Because you’ve barely said two words since we left?”
“Sorry. Just got a lot on my mind.”
His phone alerts with another incoming text message and then another before he exhales loudly.
“She won’t let up,” Dennis says forlornly. “I’m driving as fast as I can. Why they need me there before tomorrow is ridiculous, it’s not like we’re part of their plan.”
He accelerates slightly, your fingers pressing into the plush leather armrest as he begins to slow.
It’s not a secret that he doesn’t want to see his family for the holidays. He’s been putting it off for months – years even – but a promotion, even one that he had excitedly told his parents, had been a cause for a celebration that ended up becoming mandatory, by his family offering to host you both for the holiday, not taking no for an answer.
There’s not much you know about his family. Ever since you started dating, he’s been careful to navigate how he speaks about them to you. It wasn’t the best upbringing, that much you know as he’s shared that much. He grew up poor, bullied for his glasses and calm demeanor, ostracized for leaving the small town he grew up in for a scholarship for college and never looking back, let alone to visit. His parents, Dennis had told you, were proud people – proud of who they were and where they came from.
It was obvious that Dennis didn’t agree and knowing how stressed he was, it didn’t make sense for you to push the issue, not when you knew that topic is one he still tries to avoid.
“We don’t have to go,” you speak up, Dennis shaking his head slowly, eyes still on the road.
“That won’t go over well. Just better to get it over with.”
“Dennis,” you admonish, seeing him reach for his coffee again. “They’re your parents.”
“I know. They’re gonna love you, you know.”
As much of a comfort as that gives you, it’s the sadness in his voice that almost feels envious. Still, you don’t press, quietly looking at the window as the trees whizz past.
“You don’t seem excited.”
“I’m not,” he answers matter-of-factly, picking up his phone to glance at the text message before he places it back down, a look of dread appearing on his features.
“What is it?”
“My brother will be there.”
“Oh?” you ask, watching him take another gulp of coffee. “You haven’t seen him in a while, right? Sounds like a family reunion.”
“I wouldn’t call it that but sure.”
“What’s your brother like?” you ask, trying to get him to open up. Whatever the text message was, it didn’t please Dennis in the slightest, seeing him turn the phone face down in the cup holder.
“The favorite.”
“The favorite?” you repeat, Dennis still looking straight ahead, his fingers flexing slightly.
“Yeah.”
That’s all the response you will get, you realize, Dennis giving a short shrug. You know nothing about his brother, only that he has one, something muttered when you were first starting to date but the subject was dropped quickly.
“He’ll like you,” he says, almost bitterly. “You’ll like him too.”
“How do you know?”
You sound accusatory but you don’t mean it. Dennis seems so resolved that he’ll be cast aside that you find yourself getting defensive, as if he doesn’t believe you won’t be on his side.
“Because he’s the rugged type. I’ve seen the books you read,” Dennis chides with a slight smile that is gone before you can appreciate it. “He’s like that.”
“Books are books, they aren’t you,” you remind him, flashing him a smile. “Those books don’t have your self-deprecating jokes, your thoughtfulness and care. You know that.”
He smiles finally – a real smile with a flash of pearly white teeth – before he settles back into his seat.
“Just promise one thing,” Dennis says after a short pause, slowing to look at you for a moment. “Stay inside when it starts to get dark when we get there. Probably a silly superstition but it’s important. Promise?”
You want to make a joke but you know better, especially with how serious Dennis has become again. You’ll ask your questions later, when he’s not so agitated.
“I promise,” you recite.
“Good,” he says with a sigh of relief. “My family loves their traditions, Ari even more so. Let’s just ease you in slow so you don’t get overwhelmed.”
I hope you enjoy the little twist I've placed in the first chapter. We'll be getting a visit from three others throughout this mini series starting with Part Two.
Recommended Listening: Michelle by Bear McCreary
Warnings: 18+ ONLY, mentions of religion, mentions of death, language.
Words: 1.5K
Demon Doctor! Steve Rogers x Angel Nurse! Female Reader
Summary | Despite your best efforts, some of your patients that you care for start to pass away under mysterious circumstances. The intimidating doctor with the soothing bedside manner seems to always be one step ahead of you.
Under the bright lights, the man blinks, looking at the doctor that hovers just over the lights, his handsome face coming into view.
“Relax, Mr. Fisher. I’m Doctor Steve Rogers” he soothes, flashing a pearly white smile that sends a chill down his spine. “You’ll be out of here in no time.”
He’s lucky to be alive. He knows this by the way the paramedics whispered amongst themselves while the loud siren drowned out his own thoughts of morality. His car was totaled – completely ruined – but at least now he knew survived. Life would go on.
“Thank God,” he replies to the doctor, blinking twice as he tries to nod.
“I’d keep your head still. Wouldn’t want to damage anything else.”
“I’ll get out of here?”
There’s a soft smirk that comes over Dr. Rogers’ features, not answering him as the sound of tools scrape against the table.
“Of course, Mr. Fisher. This won’t hurt if you stay still.”
Dr. Rogers’ heavy hand settles on his chest like a weight, almost crushing as Mr. Fisher struggles to breathe, noticing the pupils of the doctor’s eyes get larger until all he can see is black as the lights flicker.
“Aeternum vale,” Dr. Rogers speaks, his tone deeper, more animalistic as he leans down and inhales, the man under his gaze choking before he flatlines.
-
Steve washes his hands as he looks over to you, head in your hands as another nurse sits with you, rubbing your back soothingly while they whisper in your ear.
“I thought he was going to make it,” he can hear you whisper, your voice low and full of sorrow.
“I know,” the nurse next to you agrees. “But cardiac arrest can get anyone. Was he your first patient?”
“No,” you sniffle, wiping your eyes with a balled up tissue. “I… I just get attached. I hate the ER.”
“We never get much time, I know. It’s going to be alright.”
Steve hides a smile. After so much searching, he’s found you and what a treasure you are. His father was right about you.
An angel through and through.
“Rita?” Steve asks as the other nurse lifts her head. “I think there’s a call for you.”
With a nod, Rita gets up and leaves, leaving you alone as you take a cleansing breath. Mr. Fisher was young, still in the prime of his life. It just didn’t make sense.
“Everything alright?”
“Yeah,” you answer, straightening your shoulders. “I’ll be fine, thank you.”
“Steve,” he offers, holding out his hand as you shake it. “I’ll be here all night if you need anything. Can I get you some coffee?”
“I’m okay,” you reply, inspecting your hand for a moment as you rub the sting from your palm away, wondering what it could have been.
“I have to head back. I have to fill out all the paperwork.”
“It can wait,” Steve assures you. “Take a breather, okay?”
With a shaky step, he knows you’re affected. You've tried to help them but it's harder now that he's here. Every single time a soul passes in this place, you mourn.
You look so beautiful doing it.
It’s a shame you won’t be here for much longer if he has his way.
And he always gets his way.
-
“It’s alright,” you soothe, pressing a cool cloth to the forehead of your patient as he gives you a dim smile. “Your fever is lowering.”
“You remind me of my daughter,” the man says in a thin whisper. “So kind. Caring.”
“You just relax,” you remind him gently. “We’ll have you out in no time.”
“Nurse,” a voice says clearly, making you jump as you nearly drop the cool washcloth.
Doctor Rogers stands in the doorway, giving you a curious look as he zeroes in on the washcloth.
“How is his fever?”
“It’s dropping slowly, thank goodness,” you answer, giving your patient an approving nod.
“Is the cloth helping? We have cold packs for that.”
“I’m aware,” you reply gently, straightening up as you realize he isn’t going to go away anytime soon. “I figured a little conversation may help.”
“Cold packs are in the closet,” Doctor Rogers reminds you. “Mr. Hillman needs his rest.”
You can feel your face getting warm at the slight, nodding as you move past him, intent on grabbing the cold packs so that you won’t have to be reminded again. It’s enough to make you want to say something, to remind Dr. Rogers that you’ve been doing your job for longer than he thinks. The nurses that were on duty when Mr. Fisher died had warned you about Dr. Rogers. They lamented that your good heart was seen as a weakness.
It was little wonder why you had been moved from the ER to critical care.
As much as you had thought you had been moved to have distance between yourself and Dr. Rogers, he seemed to be everywhere you were, sometimes in your peripheral before you realized he was gone.
“What a hard ass,” Darcy mutters, watching you grip the cold pack box in your hands. “I heard him. The man is good at his job but geez, what an asshole.”
“Darcy,” you admonish quietly, looking around to make sure he isn’t close by. “I’m sure he means well.”
“Pfft,” she snorts, shaking her head while she types up a report. “We call him the Angel of Death. Killer of people and careers.”
“Darcy!”
“It’s true,” she counters, nodding at the empty computer space next to her. “Maria quit last week, remember? He told her that her work was subpar and Stark agreed! Meanwhile, on his watch, three patients died after originally being stable.”
“You can’t think that way,” you murmur, Darcy rolling her eyes.
“I get it. Look, it’s bad timing, I know. They weren’t in the best shape but he doesn’t even seem that remorseful. They’re flying out of here in body bags and he’s giving these little speeches about the fragility of life instead of… I don’t know, actually giving a shit about his patients?”
-
“Mr. Hillman,” Dr. Rogers says in a hushed tone. “You’ve been running a fever for a few days now. Miraculously, it’s been lowered in the past few hours. It looks like you’re on the mend.”
“I have a good nurse,” Mr. Hillman vows. “Like an angel. Checks on me throughout the night.”
“Mm,” Dr. Rogers continues, looking at his chart. “You’re due to be discharged in a few days if the fever goes down. I walked in on a conversation, I believe. You have a daughter?”
“I do,” he says proudly. “She is my pride and joy.”
“I’m sure she’ll be happy to know you’ll be home soon. I just need to check your vitals one last time for the night. Your nurse will be back in a few, I want her to be rest assured that you are fine so that she can take care of the rest of her patients.”
Steve places the end of his stethoscope over the man’s chest, frowning at how healthy his heartbeat sounds. He’d been near death when he was brought in, weakened from a fever and pneumonia.
“Is it bad?” Mr. Hillman asks, his voice filled with uncertainty as he closes his eyes.
Steve listens for a little longer, narrowing his eyes as he spies a few luminescent drops on the man’s forehead.
“Mors certa, hora incerta,” Dr. Rogers mouths, the drops sinking into the man’s forehead before he spies them reforming, glittering over his forehead once more, a phrase coming into view.
Pax et lux
“No,” Dr. Rogers answers, his eyes going black for a moment. He can see it so clearly, the holy water that you’ve blessed before you placed the cloth on his forehead.
“She is good to me,” Mr. Hillman murmurs happily. “The best nurse.”
“That she is,” Dr. Rogers agrees, removing his stethoscope. “Well, it appears that death will not be at your door this time, Mr. Hillman. Rest.”
-
Darcy looks up as Dr. Rogers leaves the room, eyes locking with hers as she crunches loudly on a chip, the sound making him stop in his tracks.
“Darcy,” Steve greets, coming up toward the desk. “Have you seen her around?”
“She’s doing her rounds,” Darcy answers, not looking up from her computer as she snatches another chip from the bag. “Did you need me to page her?”
“No,” Steve replies, looking down the hall. “No need.”
He sees you walking out of another room, closing the door slowly before you stop in your tracks, hand still on the knob before you gently let go. Your head turns slowly, acknowledging him with a slight nod before you continue on.
Darcy pays him no mind as he continues down the hallway, stopping at the door that you’ve left, his hand reaching for the handle when it sizzles under his hand. He pulls away, looking at the brand that has been burned into his skin.
Parva sub ingenti.
The branding disappears after a moment, Steve hiding his smile.
You’re afraid for your patients, keeping them protected as best you can. It’s admirable, even if he doesn’t plan on letting you get away with it. You have no idea you’re outnumbered.
One single phone call to the university could have a certain professor roaming the halls as well to assist him with bringing you to your knees but he’s been busy at the moment, his sights set on something much more entertaining to him than a wayward nurse with a heart on her sleeve.
He continues down the hallway, searching for any sight of you before he reaches a dead end, Darcy calling out to you to say goodnight.
You’ve protected them for the night. This much he will allow.
I hope you enjoy the little twist I've placed in the first chapter. We'll be getting a visit from three others throughout this mini series starting with Part Three.
Series Masterlist
Recommended Listening: Disease by Lady Gaga
Warnings: 18+ ONLY, mentions of religion, mentions of death, language.
Words: 1.5K
Demon Doctor! Steve Rogers x Angel Nurse! Female Reader
Summary | Despite your best efforts, some of your patients that you care for start to pass away under mysterious circumstances. The intimidating doctor with the soothing bedside manner seems to always be one step ahead of you.
Mr. Hillman is fast asleep, unaware of you standing at his bedside. You can tell someone has been in this room – despite everything being where you left it.
You can still smell the burned flesh when you reached the door.
And it wasn’t just his door.
Whatever lurks inside these halls is testing you. It’s suffocating when you enter the recovery wing, the sense that something is watching you under the bright lights and sanitized spaces not lost on you as you go through your rounds. It hides in every corner, through the corner of your eye, heavy on your chest and heart, almost waiting to pounce.
Your patient will be discharged today, looking at his chart in relief that he was able to pull through, saying a quick prayer in thanks before you feel a dark presence that makes you go still, your feet braced on the floor.
Footsteps pause at the door and for a moment, your eyes darken, ready to protect Mr. Hillman when the footsteps continue on. Still, you watch the door for a moment, a whispery voice breaking you out of your concentration.
“Angel,” Mr. Hillman says sleepily before he slips back into a deep sleep.
“Rest up,” you reply softly. “They won’t succeed.”
When your hand reaches for the door, you take one look back at him, committing him to memory. He’d been at death’s door with his illness and his daughter will be happy to know her father has pulled through.
A miracle, really.
-
Darcy inspects her painted nails, ignoring you when you sit next to her to finish his discharge paperwork. She’s been immersed in this podcast, the host still talking as she lowers the volume for a moment.
“Dr. Rogers was looking for you,” Darcy says after a moment, holding up her index finger to the light. “Does this look crooked to you? I swear I didn’t file it right.”
“Did he say what he wanted?”
“Nope,” she says with a loud pop of her mouth. “Man of little words around me. He was going into check on Miss Farmer, I think.”
“Why? She was stable this morning, wasn’t she?”
Darcy shrugs, inspecting another nail.
“Darcy, she’s your patient.”
“She’s fine. I’m just telling you where he went. Maybe he’s checking on her because she’s,” Darcy pauses, holding her hands out near her chest. “You saw her. Melons.”
You want to say something to her about her comment but Dr. Rogers comes into view, his eyes trained on you when you straighten your shoulders. He’s dressed in his usual white shirt and black slacks, his white coat immaculate.
“Good morning,” he says warmly, flashing you and Darcy a smile. “I hope you were able to sleep well last night. You were here late, weren’t you?”
“A little but I had some last-minute things to do,” you say in reply, seeing him nod in agreement.
“How is Miss Farmer?” Darcy asks him, trying to hide a smile.
“She’s your patient, Darcy. How would I know?” Dr. Rogers snaps.
Darcy’s smile fades at his biting remark, getting to her feet as she locks her computer.
“Say no more.”
She leaves you and Dr. Rogers alone, your eyes going back to your monitor to finish the paperwork.
“Do you know anything about Latin?” Dr. Rogers asks, leaning over the counter. “I came across a phrase last night and I was a little confused by it.”
“What phrase?”
Pulling a piece of paper out of his pocket, he slides it over to you.
Non Mortem Timemus, Sed Cogitationem Mortis.
You read it silently, aware of how he’s staring, waiting for you to translate. You won’t do it, knowing that you’ve seen this phrase before and reciting it out loud would bring about something you won’t want.
“Confused by what, Dr. Rogers?” you ask, seeing him look down at the paper.
“It’s a death quote,” he says, pointing to the word ‘mortem’. “Almost a warning if I didn’t know better.”
“A warning for what?”
“I was hoping you could tell me. The quote mentions death, doesn’t it? Some people think I’m the Grim Reaper around here,” he says with a wry smile as you look down at your keyboard. “I hear you all talk.”
“I don’t think that,” you reply quickly. “How could I? You’re a doctor, you’re here to save people.”
“You’ve been a lucky charm in this place. I don’t think we’ve lost anyone in at least a week.”
He’s never talked to you this much before, let alone maintain this much eye contact. You force yourself to look up from your monitor, dipping your chin in response.
“Bedside manner, I guess. I learned from the best.”
“Who is that?”
“My mentor,” you answer him. “She was a wonderful teacher.”
He tilts his head to the side at your response, amused in a way that you are reminiscing that seems almost condescending, the way he nods along.
“What was her name?”
Why he’s suddenly so invested, you aren’t sure.
“Dr. Maria.”
“Did she have a last name?”
“She does, yes,” you answer him quietly. Something about this question puts your defenses up, in a way that you’re unsure of where it came from.
Dr. Rogers flashes you a quick grin, cold and unfeeling before he moves away from the counter.
“It was nice chatting with you. I need to go check on Darcy and make sure she’s not on an extended break.”
-
Darcy knocks on the door, opening it slightly to find her patient still in bed. The once vivacious woman can barely lift her head as Darcy moves closer. Her mouth opens and closes like a fish, a flutter of something in her mouth before Darcy blinks and it’s gone as if she hallucinated.
“Miss Farmer?” she asks, equipment all around her beeping quickly. “What’s happening?”
The woman’s head falls back on the pillow, losing consciousness as Darcy hits a button for assistance, an alert sounding out on the machine.
“Fuck…. Fuck… fuck,” Darcy whispers to herself, beginning CPR. “Don’t die on me.”
The door opens as a team comes in, Darcy continuing, so focused that she doesn’t see Dr. Rogers enter the room. An eerie silence comes over the room, Dr. Rogers’ voice commanding her to stop.
“No,” Darcy says. “I need to keep trying!”
“She’s dead,” Dr. Rogers says calmly. “You did everything you could.”
Darcy watches as he calls her time of death, turning on her heels to collect herself outside.
“What a shame,” Dr. Rogers says, holding his hand up as a team of nurses stops in their tracks. “No need. I’ve got this covered.”
Standing near the door as they leave, you see him lean over, Miss Farmer’s chest rising and falling slowly.
On cue, a Code Blue alert gets attention, rushing out of the room almost too eager for your liking, leaving you alone with Darcy’s patient.
-
Dr. Rogers inhales deeply, smiling to himself as he calls another time of death, reinvigorated by his recent meal. It’s almost too easy, these poor souls that have no idea they will never leave this place.
He remembers Miss Farmer and Darcy, getting a notification that makes his eyes darken. Darcy’s excited text means that Miss Farmer has survived, her vitals stable once more.
He knows it’s you.
There was never any doubt in his mind, but his irritation grows at the thought that he could have had another meal if you had no interfered. He’ll deal with Darcy, bringing her back from the brink of death.
That will put you in your place.
It’s laughable for the moment, missing another meal and having another lined up.
He can’t wait to see you cry when your peer isn’t there to feed you lines about his supposed nature.
-
“She made it through,” Dr. Rogers says, your head lifting at his greeting.
He seems relieved but once again, something is off, the way he seems to be slightly annoyed. You want to chalk it up to his relentless morning but he stands over Darcy’s patient for a moment, as if he can’t believe she’s alive.
“She did. Darcy took a break. I still think she’s in shock from what happened. We almost lost her.”
“I know, I was ready to call time of death,” he agrees.
You stand, looking over at Miss Farmer as she sleeps, perspiration dotting her forehead as Dr. Rogers looks over again.
“That would have been unfortunate. But she pulled through, Dr. Rogers. That is a miracle.”
“So it is. Perhaps you’re the blessing.”
Walking toward the door, you pause when you get near him.
“I found these,” you say, opening your hand as you drop something in his hand.
Three moths fall into his hand, still moving as you stare up at him.
“Can’t imagine where they came from. You know what they’re called, right?” you ask, seeing him look down at his open palm.
“Enlighten me.”
“Acherontia Lachesis. You don’t find them here very often, if at all.”
“Acherontia Lachesis,” he repeats. “A type of moth, I’m guessing.”
“Death’s head hawkmoth, to be exact. I found them in her mouth.”
His hands close over the moths, your own hand reaching out to touch his own, ignoring the searing pain of touching his cold hand.
“I have no idea where they came from, but I have an idea,” you continue.
“We’ll have Dr. Banner call the exterminator.”
“Thank you, Dr. Rogers, I appreciate that.”
Lifting your hand from his, you look back at Miss Farmer for a moment.
“She’ll make a full recovery.”
“You seem convinced. Let’s hope so.”
You give him a smile, your eyes hovering at her empty glass on the table.
“Just a feeling. Have a good night, Dr. Rogers.”
-
Darcy cracks open a can of soda, filling out reports when the lights flicker. She’s on graveyards this week, annoyed that she tried to be nice to MJ and now she had to change her entire schedule. Her podcast skips as she pauses it, noticing the WiFi has gone out.
“Damn technology,” she mutters, standing up to inspect the connection, only to see Dr. Rogers standing at the counter.
Jumping back, she laughs nervously, her hand flying to her chest.
“You scared me! God,” she mutters, trying to breathe. “I think I almost died.”
“Shouldn’t you be doing your rounds?”
The lights flicker back on, her podcast at full blast as he shakes his head in disapproval. A flash of light catches his eye as his focuses on her necklace.
“I’m going,” she counters, grabbing her pen and clipboard. “Just needed a break.”
“A break,” he repeats, his eyes going black rapidly before changing back as he follows behind her. “I don’t think you’ve worked a whole shift since I got here.”
When she whirls around, he’s closer than she expected, her eyes narrowing at him.
“Why are you always on me? No one else, just you. Some of these other nurses may suck up to you because they think you’re hot but I’m not one of them.”
“I expect professionalism from you. Decorum, even.”
“You get what you get with me,” Darcy shoots back. “Is that a problem?”
“Yes,” he snaps. “It is.”
Darcy fingers her necklace, Dr. Rogers glaring in response as she raises an eyebrow.
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