#Flight Surgeon Course

[natsunes]

im sorry but this joke from yo ni mo kimyou na monogatari 2013 kills me every time. the guy on the plane who responds when asked if anyone on the plane is an anaesthesiologist (masuii) and ends up participating in emergency surgery despite actually being a manga editor. hes just called masui. its his name. nothing can convey the emotion of tada no masui da (pictured above)

[cjlouwho]

Prompt: tommy breakdown after buck goes through something traumatic, not right after. When buck is all good, tommy starts to shut down, and after a while buck notices and comforts him. Okay thats a long one sorry lol

This is probably not exactly what you wanted, but hopefully it's close enough! This fic features lots of snuggles.

Tommy stayed calm when he heard a firefighter had been seriously injured and air support was needed. He didn't panic when Chimney was the one to start relaying information to him and the flight medics. Even when he heard the words “Firefighter Evan Buckley of the 118” and “impaled” he focused on getting the bird from point A to point B.

When he landed the chopper, Tommy stared straight ahead and let the medics do whatever needed to be done to get Evan ready for transport.

He thought he heard Chimney ask if he should really be the one flying right now. He wanted to say, “Who else is gonna do it? I'm the only pilot here.”

Instead, he simply replied with a yes, then took off with the knowledge that his Evan was being worked on behind him.

He didn't ask how the patient was doing. He didn't listen to whatever the medics said. He did his job and got them to the hospital.

He didn't see Evan's injury until the surgeon met them at the helipad. A large metal rod sticking out of his abdomen. His turnouts had been pulled off of him, undershirt cut open. Blood, both dry and fresh, covering his body.

He had a pulse. Tommy did hear that.

But he looked lifeless.

He looked-

Tommy stopped himself from going there. He heard his coworkers say something about sending another pilot to pick up the chopper. That Tommy should go to the waiting room. He was the emergency contact anyway.

Tommy went. Sat and waited and waited, staring at the white and mint green wall in front of him. At some point, the rest of the 118 filtered in. Then Maddie, Karen, and Athena.

Eddie was on one side of him, Maddie on the other.

He looked down once to find coffee in his hand, but wasn't sure how it got there or who gave it to him.

Eventually, Evan came out of surgery. A success, the doctor said. It'd be a long recovery, but he'd make it.

The first time Evan opened his eyes, Tommy was beside him holding his hand. When Evan's face lit up into a smile, Tommy felt like his whole world just got put back together.

He stayed by Evan's side throughout recovery. Had to be forced into going home for a few hours every couple days for some real food and rest.

Tommy wasn't one for using his sick time, or his vacation time, so he used up what he could once Evan was home so he could continue to care for him until he was fully healed.

It took time, but eventually Evan got to the point where he could return to work on light duty. He couldn't go out on calls, but he could help around the station. After a couple months of barely leaving the house, he was more than ready to deal with paperwork, and cleaning, and cooking.

Three weeks after that, he was fully cleared. In one week, he'd be going out on calls again. Everything would be back to normal. When Evan called him with the news after his doctor's appointment, Tommy had congratulated him. Had picked up a cake after work and they'd celebrated together.

And then Tommy stayed awake all night long.

Evan curled up beside him, softly snoring with his breath hot on Tommy's side. Tommy's hand rubbed up and down his back all night. Right over his newest scar. He had a matching one on his abdomen. Right where the rod stabbed through his body and almost took his life.

No, Tommy didn't sleep that night.

He felt nauseous the next day. Evan noticed, of course, because Tommy was obsessed with his risotto and could barely get half of it down.

“You okay?” Buck asked as they cleared the table.

“Yeah, I think I might be getting a cold or something,” Tommy reasoned. “Sorry.”

Buck smiled at him even as he raised a hand to Tommy's forehead. “You don't have to be sorry for not feeling well. I don't feel a fever.” He moved his hands to Tommy's cheeks, then his neck, then ran his hands down his arms. Tommy knew the drill. The mere mention of not feeling one hundred percent would send Evan into a spiral, even if he did try to keep his face as nonchalant as possible.

“You feeling any congestion? Sore throat? Chills? Fatigue?”

Tommy took a step forward, rested his hands on Buck's cheeks and leaned in, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “I'm okay, Baby. Probably just tired.”

When they went to bed a few hours later, Tommy slept. For a couple hours, at least. He wished he hadn't though, because the nightmare he had felt more graphic than seeing Evan get taken away by the surgeon.

He woke up in a cold sweat, gasping for breath. Thankfully, Evan was out like a light. Tommy got up and headed into the bathroom, turning on the sink to splash some cold water on his face.

He grabbed a washcloth and wet it, wiping the sweat off of him. Then, he pulled off his sweatpants and put on a new pair before getting back into bed.

Once he was back under the covers, he reached over and scooted his hand underneath Evan's body, nudging him until he turned and laid nearly half of his body directly on top of Tommy.

Tommy tugged the covers up until they were over Evan's shoulders, then he wrapped his arms around him and held him tight.

Evan smacked a couple times, burrowing his head further into Tommy's neck. Tommy closed his eyes, breathed him in. Felt Evan's heartbeat against his chest. Listened as his breathing evened back out.

He closed his eyes, but he didn't fall back to sleep.

The next day they both had work, but Tommy ended up getting distracted so many times that his captain wouldn't let him fly. Tommy couldn't even argue with the decision.

They next day, when they both got off shift, Evan arrived a little later than Tommy with burritos in hand.

“They're from your favorite food truck,” Buck told him with a smile. “You haven't been eating much lately, so I wanted you to have something good.”

Tommy didn't have the heart to tell him that the thought of eating made him feel like throwing up. He choked down every single bite of his burrito, then managed to pull Evan into the bedroom for a nap.

Well, sex first, then a nap.

As he laid on Evan's chest, one arm curled up beside him and the other over Evan's pec, he glanced down at the scar. How it raised ever so slightly from the rest of his skin, bright pink against the white.

His chest ached. His eyes burned. The call that he'd forced in one ear and out the other repeated over and over now. “We need an ETA on air support on the Marriott fire downtown! Firefighter Evan Buckley of the 118 has been seriously injured. He fell and was impaled by a metal object. Goes through to his back. Unclear at this time if any major organs were hit, but he's losing a lot of blood and his heartbeat is irregular.”

Tommy didn't realize he'd started crying until Evan stiffened underneath him.

“Tommy?” he asked, his voice soft but concerned. “Babe, what's wrong?” He tried to move them so he could look at Tommy, but Tommy just clung onto him tighter.

He squeezed his eyes shut, sucking in a stunted, shaky breath. “Nothing. S'nothing.”

“Well th- that's obviously not true.” He ran his hands through Tommy's hair, then over his shoulders and down his back. “Come on, talk to me. Please.”

Tommy gave himself a second to calm down. He wiped his eyes before he slowly sat up to face Evan. Evan scooted up the bed so he was leaning against the headboard. He took Tommy's hand, moving his head to meet Tommy's eyes as he tried to look away. “Tommy.” He gave his hand a squeeze. “Please, I'm worried.”

“I... I was so scared.” He breathed out the words like he was admitting to some wrongdoing. “Evan, when you... When I heard it was you over the radio, I was terrified.”

Buck pulled Tommy toward him, wrapping him back up in his arms. “I knew something was wrong. I talked to Cap about it. He said not to push.”

“I was trying to be strong for you. I'm not the one who got hurt.”

“You don't ever have to be strong for me, Tommy. You're allowed to feel things.”

Tommy leaned back enough to be able to look at Evan. “I just put myself in survival mode,” he said. “It was all about getting you better. I could focus on that and not worry about anything else. But, now that you are better- which I'm very thankful for- it's... it scares me. I don't ever wanna see you like that again.”

“Me getting the all clear is what did it, isn't it?”

Tommy nodded. “I think it's always been there, the fear. But it definitely got worse as soon as I found out.”

“Why didn't you tell me, Tommy? We're supposed to- to share stuff like this with each other.”

“I didn't want you to think I wasn't supportive of you going back to work. Because I am supportive of it. I know you're excited, and I'm excited for you. I just- I really love you, Evan.”

Buck smiled. He leaned over and pressed his lips to Tommy's in a chaste kiss. “I really love you, Tommy.”

Tommy pulled Evan to him this time, holding him in his arms. “I have no doubt that you'll be as safe as you can possibly be,” Tommy said, his hand finding its way to the scar on Evan's back. “But I'm gonna be worried for a while.”

“I think that means you care,” Buck teased.

“I really, really care.”

“I like that you care.” Buck smacked a kiss onto Tommy's chest. “If it helps, I worry about you every time I hear you're going up.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He thought about it for a second. “It does help.”

Buck smiled against his skin. “Good. You think you can sleep now?”

Tommy scooted down until his head rested against the pillow, his and Evan's legs tangling together. “I think I can try.”

[meangirltogoodgirls]

the only surgeon you could find in your budget was out of state, so i agreed to let you crash at my place nearby while you recovered from top surgery. i picked you up from the airport, joked around as we waited in baggage claim. you felt comfortable.

it wasn't until we got to the car that you started to get nervous. i'd stopped smiling and laughing as much, gone quiet. inside the car, the drive was silent. you started to get goosebumps.

when i pulled off the highway onto an empty rural road, you started sweating. when i parked, you panicked.

i put a stop to that.

finally, i got you calmed down and i explained the situation. in short, you had a very simple choice. you could strip naked and lock your clothing in the trunk for the remainder of the drive, or you could find another ride and place to stay. outside, it started to rain.

you cried and threatened and screamed and cried some more. of course. but what could you do, really? you'd put yourself in a very vulnerable position and we both knew it.

when you got back in the passenger seat, you were shaking so hard your tits were jiggling. it would be such a pleasant view as we drove for hours out to my home in the country. you told me you put in for 3 weeks' off from work. just enough time to teach you why transitioning isn't the right choice for you. i've got a feeling you might be missing your flight back, though.

[therealslimshakespeare]

WIP teaser

I got myself a lovely little request over a week ago for a Nurse!xBuck fic. Well, hi, it’s me, can’t not take that and run with it straight off the edge of the known world. I don’t even have a fixed name for it yet but I’ve been enjoying AU-ing our familiar faves to death with it

MOTA Pacific Theatre AU: yeah, you heard that right. Maybe it’s the anniversary of Iwo Jima currently happening or maybe it’s my ongoing crush on Ensign Jane Kendeigh, or -more likely- my subconscious awareness that nurse OC’s are a pretty favorited bunch for fandom writers, so I’ve found myself mixing it up entirely.

We’ve got Navy Flight Nurses and we’ve got Lt. Commander Doc Egan and co-pilots Cleven and Demarco who aren’t too fond of having to fly cargo planes full of wounded out of war zones all due to flight surgeon John Egan’s special request to have Cleven chauffeur him around. Oh yeah, and somehere in here there’s a developing thing between Cleven x oc Nurse!Ensign Maureen Kendeigh

TW: blood? Use of the word “Jap”

…

“You got it, commander.”

More than a little sure her mission was more provoking than necessary, Maureen still obeyed and followed Brady up the length of the plane and towards his station, then past it to poke her head between the pilots’ seats.

“Well, well, this is a pleasant surprise, getting car sick, kiddo?” Demarco joked, “Hey, I get it, I’d find it hell back there with no windows to look out.”

“Those mortars obligingly made a few.” Maureen joked back.

“Anybody hurt?” Cleven asked, and to her surprise, he turned from his panel to look at her with unmasked concern.

A joke was ready made there about everyone quite literally being shot to hell but she sensed he’d not appreciate it and following some uninterpreted impulse of desiring his good opinion, she hardly wished to repay his earnestness with flippancy. “Only one.”

“How bad?”

“He looked -dead.” Maureen admitted, she hadn’t gotten a good look at the man moving past him but she’d seen Egan’s treatment of the body and it wasn’t promising.

Cleven’s jaw worked overtime at the news and something snapped in his mouth, followed by a soft curse from lips too full and soft to always be so stern. Maureen thought he may have broken a tooth with all that tension but he spit out two halves of a bloodied toothpick instead. It fell to his pant leg.

“Major Cleven, sir, you’re bleeding.” It had drawn Maureen’s attention to his wet lap.

“That’s what I said.” Demarco agreed.

“It’s somebody else’s.” Cleven shook his head.

“You know if you pass out on me-“ Demarco warned, completely ignoring Cleven’s denial.

“-that’s why we’ve got co-pilots.” Cleven finished for him with a maddening smirk that made Benny Demarco throw his hands up.

“Can you check him?” he asked, “I mean -you are a nurse!”

“What? Hell no!” Major Cleven spooked for the first time all day at the suggestion, glancing quickly from his reddened trousers, behind him to Maureen Kendeigh, and back again. “I’m fine.” he declared in a firm tone that dettered her almost as much as the challenge of getting over the instruments and a steering column to pull down his pants and look. “Ensign Kendeigh, was there a purpose to your visit?” He redirected, resolutely ignoring Demarco’s unabated concerns.

“Yes sir,” she replied, meekly as she could, “Doc Egan asked me to remind you that you’re not flying a bomber. To mind the oxygen, sir. And that it’s cold.”

Cleven let out a mirthless little laugh. “We’re full of holes Ensign, of course it’s cold.”

“I know sir.”

“Yeah, ‘course you know,” his eyes lightened for a moment and Maureen almost deluded herself he was being chummy when he murmured next, “you’re smart like that. Tell the Lieutenant Commander I’ll keep her nice and low, so low the Jap navy gunners can blow the floor out without a sweat.”

“Thank you, Major.” Maureen chirped, pleased to have been trusted with a bit of morbid humor -it was the truest test of being taken seriously a woman could hope for in the service.

“Thank you, Ensign.” And with that she was dismissed.

[pancakesanddiatribes]

in a manner of speaking

heyyyy there, i finally managed to finish this little piece that has been in my mind for a while. in my head, this is what happened to japril after they leave for interviews in 8x20. i really am enjoying writing this snippets so much; of course, life happens so I can't be as quick as i'd want to, but still i hope you enjoy it 🫶🏻

thank youuuuuuu

here a little preview for you 💗

"You know what? If they never send your suitcase back, I’ll contact the Foundation’s best lawyer and we’ll sue them for two million dollars. Maybe this is your chance to become a rich, handsome surgeon like me," he joked, and the sneering ha-ha she served him in return confirmed the mood had lightened at last.

in a manner of speaking

"This is already going badly. This is a sign from above; I'm telling you, Jackson" — he looked at her, half amused, half concerned — "I am telling you! I don't have my folders, thanks to Cristina, and now I don't even have my good suit, thanks to the stupid airline, or the flight attendant, or whatever incompetent baggage handler was supposed to look after my—"

"April! April, calm down! You're going to give yourself a heart attack. Actually, you're going to give ME a heart attack! Please, let's take a break for a moment."

He was a bit frustrated but not truly angry. Jackson knew well that she was the anxious type, so it only made sense that she would freak out when her suitcase was slightly delayed. We know it’s an inconvenience, ma’am, but we’ll send it to your hotel later tonight. You and your belongings will be reunited by 7 a.m. tomorrow at the latest, we promise.

Of course, that promise meant absolutely nothing to April, who had already contemplated the possibility of being interviewed in her underwear. What thought process had led her to consider that scenario even remotely plausible? Jackson had no idea.

"April, listen to me," he said, slowly stroking her shoulders. "There’s nothing more we can get from them. Let’s check in at the hotel and grab something to eat. We can order takeout or stop at a place nearby—either works for me. Your call."

"Takeout," she said, defeat in her voice, her big eyes slightly downturned. "I'm sorry for putting you through this, really. You've got your big interview tomorrow, too. It’s just... why do these things always happen to me? What if my suitcase never arrives?"

"You know what? If they never send your suitcase back, I’ll contact the Foundation’s best lawyer and we’ll sue them for two million dollars. Maybe this is your chance to become a rich, handsome surgeon like me," he joked, and the sneering ha-ha she served him in return confirmed the mood had lightened at last.

When they entered the hotel lobby, April was definitely calmer; still worried about her perfect interview suit being missing, of course, but now more focused on the food they were about to order in a few minutes.

"Good evening, Mr.—"

"Dr. Avery, and this is Dr. Kepner. We have two rooms booked for tonight."

"Yes, I see the bookings here," the receptionist said. "As requested, the rooms are on the same floor. In fact, they’re right next to each other." She added, after checking their IDs and handing them two keycards.

April chuckled as they walked toward the elevator.

"I bet you regret asking for the rooms to be on the same floor now. What if I go nuts in the middle of the night and come banging at your door, screaming for my suitcase?"

"In that case, I’ll double-lock myself in so I’m not assaulted by a crazy woman with no clean clothes."

"Oh my God, I don’t have any clean clothes! I don’t even have my night socks!" she exclaimed, her voice rising an octave—again.

"I don’t know about night socks, but I’ve got an extra pair of regular socks you can borrow. And also a pair of jogging shorts and a t-shirt, if you want. They’re not your size, for sure, but you just need them to sleep in, not to do a fashion show so..."

"Thank you, Jackson. I’m not really in a position to refuse any clean clothes. They’ll do their job fan-ta-sti-cal-ly."

Once they reached their floor, she entered Jackson’s room and waited for him to search through his suitcase. It didn’t take long though; he packed his stuff so neatly that April had to roll her eyes.

"Nice, there are plenty of takeout flyers here - she indicated the bedsite table - How do you feel about pizza?"

"Pizza will certainly do", he replied as he handed her the clothes.

She took them a bit too fiercefully and he laughed a little, "Perfect, you're calling then - I now have a date with the shower. The usual is fine for me, Jackson!", he heard her say while closing his bedroom's door.

"We can never be bored here", he muttered under his breath, and looked for the pizza flyer.

When he knocked on her door half an hour later, she was showered and dressed. Well, covered at least. His shorts looked a bit ridiculous on her, but she wasn’t really paying attention to her appearance. "Finally. Were you making the pizza from scratch?", her impatience evident. "Hey, you’re only dressed because of me and you’re only going to eat because I called for the pizza. I deserve some respect here."

He entered her room with the pizza in one hand and a bottle of red in the other. "Pizza and wine? Where did you get that?" "At the hotel bar. And shush, I don't want to hear any complaints: if you know how to select the right one, wine can go with everything. Come on, let’s eat, and grab the two glasses they put in the bathroom."

"Don’t put the pizza on the bed, Jackson!" she shouted from the bathroom. "Give me some credit, April, I’m not a caveman." "Aren’t you? All this time living with Alex should have taught you a thing or two." That remark made him laugh; she really couldn’t stand Alex’s lifestyle.

"How much do I owe you for all of this?" she asked, gesturing at the food. "Don’t worry about it; this delightful treat is on me. You’ve already had a stressful evening." "But—" "Hey, be quiet and eat your pizza."

He then changed the subject and asked if she was prepping for tomorrow’s interview, noticing the computer and notebook open on the bed behind them— they were both sitting next to each other on the carpet. "Yeah. Luckily, I had my computer bag with me. I would’ve gone full-on crazy if they’d delayed that as well." She did go full-on crazy earlier, but Jackson felt it was safer not to mention it. He poured the wine, and she made a toast.

"To my interview in your jogging shorts." "At least now you’re not doing it in your underwear." "They’d probably think this—" she gestured to her outfit, "is the worst walk of shame outfit ever." "I’m taking away the pizza now." He jokingly moved the pizza box away from her, so her pretend apology arrived while taking a big bite of a slice. "Oh no, no, I’m sorry. This Tuxedomoon t-shirt with these weirdly shaped geometric doodles is so fitting for a job interview. They’ll love it, for sure." "You’d be showing off your great knowledge with this t-shirt." "About? Some secret code only rich kids get? What is this Tuxedomoon, anyway? The name of your fancy frat house in college?" "Oh my God, you’re such a loser. Tuxedomoon is a very cool post-punk band from San Francisco. They’re amazing." "Post-punk?" The shockwas evident on her face; the mockery too. "Are you really telling me you’re a post-punk kind of guy, or were you just posing as the mysterious freakish gloomy kid to hit on the edgy, maverick chick?" "I don’t need disguises to hit on anyone, maverick or not," he remarked cockily, throwing a small cushion at her. "And Tuxedomoon is really cool. Here, let me show you. This one’s famous—I bet you know it." The excitement in Jackson’s voice made her roll her eyes again. Before the pizza arrived, April had still been stuck in her head, thinking about her lost suit and the interview and what they would think of her unwashed, flight-worn clothes. But now, she was feeling better; definitely more at ease. This wine works magic, she thought, while her friend jumped on the bed to find that obviously very famous song. He was dorky in his own way; super handsome and often unsurprisingly charming - she could not deny it - but he had his little funny quirks. At least I’m not the only weird one in this room.

When the music started, the rhythm seemed distantly familiar to her. She bobbed her head to the tune; it wasn’t bad, actually, until the singer opened his mouth. April couldn’t hide her grin. The man’s voice was too odd for her taste, and it ruined the otherwise beautiful song. "Jackson, how can you like his voice?" "Why? What’s wrong with it?" He sounded slightly offended. "It’s... I don’t know. It’s weird, like he’s singing with his throat inflamed or something. It makes me laugh a little. Sorry, you can't have your way with me! Your great post-punk band does not impress me, but —" "Whatever, your loss." He knew she didn’t mean it that way, but for half a second, the words I could have my way with you crossed his mind. Gross, Jackson. Unbelievably gross. She’s your friend—and a virgin. "BUT, if you please allow me to finish, I actually know the song. Well, I know a better version of it. One that would definitely impress the ladies more." She winked at him while grabbing the computer to play it, and he snorted because the gesture was silly, and because he sincerely doubted that her version could top his in any way. The music began again, this time with a gentler melody, soft guitar, and a low hum. April's shoulders started moving to the rhythm, and she felt the urge to sing a little, dance a little, do something a little. They both drifted into the singer's silky voice when April suddenly stood up, grinning, and belted out the chorus. They lived together, so Jackson had heard her sing before—sometimes in the shower, other times when she had her headphones on. She wasn’t professionally trained, but she had a pleasant voice. Still, this April was different. When she stood up, she forgot about the interview, about the delayed suitcase and, for an instant, she even forgot Jackson was there. It all faded into the background. It took only this instant of forgetfulness - convincing herself she was somehow alone - to make her body move freely. She was singing the chorus, gently touching her hair and neck with one hand, and gripping his oversized, ridicolous shorts she was wearing with the other. It was all very spontaneous; she wasn't paying attention to him, nor was she thinking about her movements - she was only doing. But Jackson was paying attention and, even more, he was thinking; he was thinking the unthinkable and the absurd. The word sultry came to his mind. The song had a sensuality to it, and April —well, okay, she's hot. She is. It's not like I want her to be hot, she just is. I'm a guy, I cannot not see it. I'm allowed to think that of a friend, it's called being honest.

Was he, really, allowed though? He felt it in his guts, for a second, but shoved it aside as soon as it arose. She's just having fun, Jackson told himself. There's nothing more to it. She's not flirting with you, she's not trying to seduce you. She's having fun. Let her have fun. And don't be weird. Then, she locked eyes with him, and that instant split in two: two separate moments, inestricably connected, occurring one after the other in an overly rapid succession. It was impossibly brief, but in that fleeting moment, Mark Sloan’s words echoed in her mind: I think I could take this one for the team; I think I can; I think I want to. She had never done anything like it before, but she knew she could seduce him. She would seduce him. She was seducing him already. His parted lips and half-closed eyes confirmed it. In that very moment, something happened in the pit of her stomach: a sudden emptiness and a curious warmth; and then, the warm sensation filled the emptiness. This - this isn't right, right? This doesn't happen, April. Don't make a fool of yourself. We're having a good time here, you don't get to ruin it with crazy thoughts. Have a good time. She blinked - the two moments made the one instant. While her eyes locked with Jackson's, that first moment made room for the second, and the whole instant passed, as quickly as it came. "See?" she smiled, snapping back to herself without almost not realizing it. "This version is so much better. Way more soothing. It’s a vibe." "Yeah, well, I didn’t know bossa nova made its way to Moline. I thought farm girls only went for country music and folk ballads." She snatched a slice of pizza from his hand and sat back down beside him. The amount of space between them had never felt really significant—until now. Now, somehow, they could not ignore its presence — or the lack of. "You know, you’re pretty narrow-minded for a big-city boy." "Let’s hope your interviewers tomorrow aren’t narrow-minded when they see you wearing my jogging shorts." She playfully slapped his arm, and they both laughed, sharing more pizza and red, pushing all their thoughts - including those about the next day’s interviews - away from their minds.

________________________________

if you are interested, these are the songs Jackson and April are listening to :

Jackson's preferred version

April's preferred version

[samstree]

What’s up readers?! How about a little show and tell? Answer these 13 questions, tag 13 lucky readers and if you’re feeling extra bookish add a shelfie! Let’s Go!

Thank you @darthwillies for the tag!

1) The Last book I read:

The Vampire Lestat. I've been slowly reading the first few Vampire Chronicles books since the TV show took over my body and soul lmao. So far this one is a lot of fun!

2) A book I recommend:

Creatures of a Day. It's a non-fiction and a good look into psychology in general and psychiatrist as a profession. Would highly recommend Irvin Yalom's other books too.

3) A book that I couldn’t put down:

The Song of Achilles. I read very slowly in English but this book had me hooked from the beginning and I finished it in one weekend. This was actually a few years ago now but I haven't had the same experience since. (If anyone knows anything that is the same but like...different, please let me know alskjdf)

4) A book I’ve read twice (or more):

This Is Going to Hurt. I really liked the humor in the book when the topic is so serious. It's about working in health care and especially in the OB ward. Witnessing life and death daily can't be easy, but Adam Kay makes it easy to read.

5) A book on my TBR:

The Red Sorghum. It's been on my TBR since it won the Nobel prize lmao. The theme is very heavy though, but anyway, one day I will read, even just for the nobel.

6) A book I’ve put down:

All the Light We Cannot See. The writing is beautiful but the WWII story just doesn't draw me in as much. Maybe one day I will go back to it.

7) A book on my wish list:

Can I put an unpublished book here? The Winds of Winter lol, if I can be cheeky for a bit. Watching House of the Dragon really just brought me back into my asoiaf era. I feel sixteen again and piecing together all the clues for the sequel and thinking about all the theories. Unfortunately it is still very much a wish list.

8) A favorite book from childhood:

Journey to the West! Who doesn't love an adventure story about four besties going on a road trip that is full of cool monsters of the week? Also the whole book is metaphor for buddhist enlightenment. So it really contains multitudes.

9) A book you would give to a friend:

Silver in the Wood. It's a short novel that I brought to a long flight and just finished in one go. It makes you feel like you've just taken a little walk in the forest. It's a light read that makes a perfect gift!

10) A book of poetry or lyrics that you own:

Does Evgenii Onegin count as poetry? It's one of my favorite reads back in university. Partly because of the adapted play I think, it is still the top theater experience I've ever had.

11) A nonfiction book you own:

When Breath Becomes Air. It was written by a surgeon about his journey battling cancer at the end of his life. It's one of the books that stayed with me, having read it after cancer being such a huge part of my life for years. I feel like I got some answers from it and would recommend everyone to read.

12) What are you currently reading:

Queen of the Damned. More sexy vampires! Some of them are even old AND sexy!

13) What are you planning on reading next?

Keep reading through the Vampire Chronicles until reason and taste fail me (or Anne Rice does). I hear people tend to stop at some point during the 12 books in the whole series. We'll see how long I last.

tagging: @kuripon @cherryjuicegf @silvipeppers @tideswept @valdomarx. No pressures of course <3

[tgarnsl]

hi! Fake Married for the wip game :)

This is for Flight of the Heron, where Keith saves Ewen's life after the Battle of Culloden by claiming they're married so Ewen can get medical treatment. Technically I also have another fake married (or fake engaged) story for Hornblower, but that's a whole modern au thing where Hornblower is the Prince of Wales.

—

It was pain that roused him. Bright, sharp pain, coursing through his body, drawing him to the surface, drawing him through its silver skin, and he cursed and raged and shook against the hands that held him down, but he could neither break free, nor retreat. Slowly, the world pieced itself together again, fragments fitting together like shattered pieces of a windowpane until at last he could see clearly. He lay in a bed, half propped up on pillows, gasping for air as a surgeon in a wiry grey wig tied off a bandage on his left thigh. Where was he? The white-washed room was small and warm, nothing like… His breath caught in his lungs and a great shudder rolled through him.

Presently — though he was not quite aware how presently — it was brought to his attention that the surgeon was speaking to someone. A redcoat officer stood before the fire, his back turned to where Ewen lay, but Ewen did not need to see the soldier’s face to recognise who it was. The man stood before him was none other than Keith Windham of the Royal Scots.

So he was to be interrogated then. There could be no other explanation for Windham’s presence in this room: the Elector’s generals sought to question Ewen, and believed that a man with whom he was already acquainted was the best one to conduct such an interrogation. His hands clutched at the bedsheets. He would not do it. No word would pass from his lips that he did not wish to give, not even if they flogged him, or put him back in that foetid cell with all the other wounded and dying. No, he would die before he broke faith. His lower lip was trembling and he bit it hard, shutting his eyes against the torrent of grief and despair that sought to drown him.

When he roused again, it was to an urgent voice in his ear calling his name and a rough hand on his cheek.

“Ardroy,” said the voice again. “Ewen!”

He groaned and opened his eyes. Keith Windham stood over him, peering at him with great concern.

“No,” he murmured through cracked lips. “Leave me be.”

“Ardroy, you must listen,” said Windham insistently, but Ewen ignored him, his eyes sliding shut as sleep drew him closer. “Ardroy, wake up!” A hand smacked his cheek lightly and he roused with a groan.

“Pòg mo thòin,” murmured Ewen, his head swimming from pain and thirst.

“I presume that was an insult,” said Windham sharply. “I may well deserve it, too. Ardroy, listen to me. I must know — did you wed Miss Grant?”

It was like being thrown from a carriage. “What?” asked Ewen, trying to clear his head. “Miss Grant — Alison?”

“Yes,” said Windham. “Did you wed her?”

Ewen shook his head. “No,” he said. “No, I — she left for France.” He could still see her standing proud at the side of the ship, one arm raised in farewell, as it took her away to safety. “I would not see her a widow before her time.”

Windham frowned. “Truly, Ardroy, I am sorry,” he said, glancing away. “I cannot tell if it makes what I say next better or worse.”

Fear gripped Ewen’s heart. “Alison, is she—” he gasped, struggling to sit up.

“No, no,” said Windham, laying a hand on Ewen’s shoulder. “I have no news of her, nor of anyone else. I…” He broke off, his frown deepening. “Do you recall how you came to be here? How I found you?”

Ewen bit his lip, struggling to recall. “The parade,” he said, and turned away. He could recall little in truth, ravaged as he had been by weakness and fever, but he remembered well enough the cruel laughter of the Hanoverian officers when he had fallen, unable to walk. “But how…?”

“I said you were my husband,” answered Keith Windham. His cheeks were flushed, and he would not meet Ewen’s eyes. “I am sorry. I could see no other way of saving your life.”

[szallejhscorner]

Easier

“What are you talking about?” you shout in an almost hysteric voice, and Chishiya leans back against the sofa and exhales a deep breath. He didn’t want this discussion, especially not on his only day off since two weeks. And even though he tried anything to avoid this certain topic, here you are – arguing about the exact thing.

“It’s not even much I’m asking you for”, you continue since he remains silent. “One family meeting. Those are like once or twice a year? That’s really not too much to ask, is it?”

Chishiya just watches you, face reddened with anger and breath quickening while you try to convince him. You have told him everything he needs to know already. The wedding of a cousin, one that you really like but that lives quite far away, so you want to spend the whole weekend there. Maybe even do some sightseeing on the day after the wedding.

It wouldn’t be too much to ask for, of course. Family meetings aren’t that bad when it’s your family, and Chishiya never attends the ones on his side anyway. No, he’d have agreed to it without discussion if it wasn’t for one single detail.

“You know it’s the weekend of the Surgeon ESC.” That one world congress for surgeons that will exhibit really interesting innovations, products and services about anything a surgeon could dream about. This year, the congress will be in Switzerland and Chishiya has already been given a ticket both for flight and accommodation as well as the congress entry.

It is an important event to him, much more important than a wedding of someone he has only seen once in his life. And he doesn’t even prohibit you to go. You’re free to visit your family for the entire weekend, but he can’t accompany you this time. There will be plenty more weddings, funerals and birthdays where you can brag with your fantastic surgeon boyfriend.

“That’s…” ruffling your hair with one hand, you pace the living room the way you always do when you’re upset. Chishiya has watched it so many times now, but rarely has he been the reason to upset you. “Why do you want to go there, anyway? You already know everything they will tell you!”

Chishiya huffs. “Probably. But one doesn’t always get a ticket to Zurich to meet the world’s best surgeons.”

“And my cousin doesn’t marry like five times a month. This is a once-in-a-lifetime-event, Shuntarou! And that stupid congress is every year. You can go next year. Or follow it through an online stream or something.”

Follow a congress via stream while he sits in a hall filled with people too loud and too drunk to lead proper conversations with? Where all he will do is avoid questions why you two haven’t married yet, why there are no children, and more pathetic stuff that most people expect from others? “You can send me pictures”, he suggests in a last attempt to soothe the situation. While he doesn’t care about fancy wedding dresses, flowers or decoration, he’d allow you to spam him with images so you’d be happy. But apparently, it is not enough for you.

You have come to a stand, hands now crossed across your chest and eyes as cold as ice. “You’re so much like your father.”

That’s all you say, in a low and bitter voice, and yet those few words have more impact on Chishiya than the rest of this conversation. He clearly is not like his father, and you are perfectly aware that what you said affects him deeply.

He stiffens and holds your gaze with the same fierceness. “Am I, now? I recall you saying that you really hated my father.”Which is fine, for the record. He despises that man, too, for more reasons than he ever told you.

“He’s not really a likeable man”, you admit with a tremble, probably realizing that you have gone too far.

Breathing out audibly, Chishiya gets up from the couch and reaches for his jacket. This is not the place he wants to be in right now – he needs space to clear his mind. “If you despise him so much and we’re the same, I don’t understand why you’re still here.”

“Wha-“ you snort, shaking your head in disbelief, “don’t twist the facts now, Shuntarou! What’s the point, now?”

“Well, you’re obviously unhappy with how this is going. I won’t cancel the congress, and you won’t let me go. If this doesn’t work out for you, you better pack up and leave.”

Chishiya slips into his jacket and puts on his shoes, fully aware that you’re still staring at him, fiddling with your hands while you search for the right words. “We’re not done here”, you shout, “where do you think you’re going? Let’s sort this out like adults and don’t run away like a child!”

Chh. As if he’s the childish one here. Knowing that there’s no point in arguing any further, he opens the door and leaves.

“Maybe I’ll just do that – pack and leave”, you threaten, but Chishiya doesn’t look back. He needs fresh air, and you definitely need some time to calm down and clear your mind.

The weather outside is cold, with a harsh wind blowing through his hair, so he pulls up the hood of his jacket to stay warm. Chishiya doesn’t pay any attention to where he’s walking – he has seen these streets hundreds of times already and there is nothing interesting to notice. All he passes are windows with half-rotten flowers, candles gathering tons of dust and the mandatory old cat that belongs to an even older lady.

He acknowledges the people passing him as little as they acknowledge him. Most of them are lost souls with dreams they will never fulfill, drowning in self-doubts, debts and misery. And here he thought you were different from them.

Chishiya has been naïve to think you’d know him well enough by now to let him go. It’s human of you to wish that you’d do everything together, that a family gathering means you both will be there, but Chishiya isn’t like normal people. He has made it clear right from the start that his priorities differ from the pathetic standard – brand-name clothes, huge follower counts on social media, the love for small-talk that most seem to have. He doesn’t approve of public cuddles and kisses, he won’t gift you chocolate and flowers on Valentine’s Day and he’d never propose to you on one knee with a cheesy quote on his lips.

You had been fine with all that, and yet you have forgotten about who he really is today. It has happened before, but never did it end in such a discussion. Chishiya has told you to leave, and while saying it had been hard, he means it. If you’re unhappy with who he is, because he won’t change into a completely new person just for you, this might not be the right relationship for you. What a miracle it has been anyway for Chishiya to bond with you in the first place. Maybe it’s better to return to who he was before, expelling anything that has to do with love from his core.

Yes, he wouldn’t be surprised to see you gone, leaving for good to search for another relationship that suits you better. It isn’t what he wants, but it’s the most logic consequence.

The wind gets colder and a drizzle begins, cloaking Chishiya with a heavy blanket that fits the mood, and yet Chishiya doesn’t turn around. The cold causes his limbs to go numb, and the sound of water dripping faster and faster onto the earth is almost hypnotizing. Most people flee into the dry buildings now, and Chishiya almost feels like the last person on this planet.

If every other human would disappear at a moment’s notice, if the rain would swallow every living soul, leaving only one hollow person, he could forget about the argument. Nothing would matter anymore – no corruption, no violence, no stupidity would be left. Just him in an environment that would immediately forget about humanity and take everything back that had once been claimed as human.

Chishiya would like that, somehow. Returning to his apartment will probably feel the same in case you’ve stuck to your threat and left. Not only will it feel empty, but it will be empty since most of the interior belongs to you. The images on the wall, small trinkets from other cities and other countries that you visited, nothing belongs to him.

You’re the one to bring color into his life, but at the same time, you make it so much more complicated. He has long accepted that he cannot have one without the other, but if it always leads to arguments like the one you’ve just had, he doesn’t know if bringing color into his life is actually worth it.

Thunder growls in the distance, and when Chishiya looks up, blinking through the heavy raindrops that now are falling, he soon sees the next flash tearing through the dark clouds. His hands have begun to tremble, and it is about time he returns to his apartment before the storm comes too close.

It is a long way back, and despite the weather and the fact he’s soaking wet from head to toe, the walk has been more than refreshing. The silence and the cold air have chased away the heat from the argument, and his body will be numb enough to muffle the pain when the apartment will actually be empty.

As soon as he can see the building, his eyes are glued to the windows that belong to the place you two used to live in for quite a while now. All the windows are dark, there’s not even a hint of light in one of them.

The water soaking his clothes and body slow him down noticeably, or maybe Chishiya hesitates to enter too fast. But he eventually reaches the door and pulls out the key while water drips down, creating huge puddles beneath his feet.

Inside it is silent and dark, without music or light. Nothing is running on the television and nothing is simmering on the stove. Have you left after all?

Chishiya gets rid of his wet shoes and throws the jacket onto the ground as well. There’s no need to cover the entire floor of this apartment with water, since the housekeeper will only come in two days.

It is redundant to turn on the lights – he knows where to go, and he doesn’t need to see things already missing. It would be impossible to take everything you own with you at once, so you’ll have to come back again to get the rest, but some of the most important things you’d never leave behind, and Chishiya knows exactly what it is.

He heads for the bathroom to change into dry clothes, but something strikes his view as he passes the sideboard. That certain photo… it’s still there.

And as he pauses, a feint noise reaches his ear. Slow and rhythmic breaths, coming from the sofa, where you have fallen asleep under a heavy blanket. Your face is wet from tears since you’ve been crying, but…

You’re still here.

Chishiya breathes out, only now realizing that he has held his breath. You didn’t leave, which also means that the discussion about that certain weekend will continue. Chishiya won’t change his mind about the congress, but since you’re still here next to him, there’s a change you have finally understood that. This congress is much more important to him than a wedding of some cousin, although it doesn’t affect the way he feels about you. That’s something you really have to understand: the future will bring even more arguments like this one, where Chishiya will prefer something over what you think is more important. It doesn’t mean though that Chishiya doesn’t respect you. The fact that he feels relief upon seeing you is more than enough evidence to prove that.

He continues to watch you for a few heartbeats longer, until most of the tears on your face have dried up.

It’d be better if you had left, leaving Chishiya alone so he could lead an easy life. But he is glad to see you here, covered in your favorite blanket as if nothing had ever happened. You make things complicated, and yet…

Chishiya likes the complicated and deviating, doesn’t he?

[un-awarewolf]

EDIT: There have been some unfortunate last minute changes. Not only did it seem like Medicaid was not going to review and approve my surgery in time, but in a completely unexpected last minute turn of events, my surgeon was out of state and his flight was cancelled 🙃 So he wouldn't have been back in time to perform the surgery anyway. I am now waiting to see if any time becomes available on September 22nd, after the already scheduled surgeries for that day are given priority.

$2,485/4,000

I AM ONE MONTH AWAY FROM TOP SURGERY! 🎉 Originally I wasn’t expected to have a date set until October, but due to a cancellation, my surgery is now set for June 29th!

I am beyond excited and don’t have enough words to express just how much this means to me. However, after recently needing a month off work for my hysterectomy and having less than 3 months back before my top surgery, which will require me to take another TWO months off to recover; I am going to need quite a bit of help to afford my living expenses. I will ALSO be having to move less than 4 weeks after my surgery to a new apartment, so you can just imagine the amount of stress I am currently experiencing while I try to prepare. 😵‍💫 For a more in-depth dive of what I hope to accomplish with top surgery and a breakdown of my expenses, you can click on the link to my fundraiser below!

If you only ever interact with one of my posts, I would be beyond appreciative if it was this one. Sharing, Commenting, and of course Donating would mean the world to me. Thank you so much for reading this far, and for being a part of my journey! I can’t wait for what happens next!

[sashi-ya]

𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐁𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 [+18] 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐥𝐚𝐰 𝐱 𝐟! 𝐩𝐫𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐬𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐫! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 [chapter five]

ʚ masterlist: part 1; part 2; part 3 ; part 4 ; final ʚ tw: slow, sloooow burn. But wait, WAIT I promise you will have good romance veeery soon. have fun searching about what noctilucas are, they will be very important in the final chap :3

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟓: 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭

The ticket won’t scan. “Ugh, for fucks sake! Why…” you protest, trying for the machine at the airport to scan the code from your phone. The new check in system seamed convenient in the beginning, but you clearly checked it wasn’t the case.

Once, twice, and even for the fifth time a huge red X appears on the screen. People behind you begin to complain as why “someone is blocking the damn machine”.

“Ok, ok!!! This shit isn’t working!” you grunt, letting the idiots behind you pass. Nothing seemed to be going well since the very beginning you put a foot in this city. First, the con incident. Then, Law and all of the things that happened in less than 24 hours. And now, there seems to be a strong invisible force playing with you once again.

You just wanna leave. You don’t want to know anything about this place… never again.

Checking your phone, you see time flies as the airplanes in the sky. So, you need someone to scan your ticket, or you won’t be able to flight back home.

“Now, where is this damn airline located?” you ask yourself, looking all around to see if you can find any sign of such company.

Of course, it seems as everybody is running late to go somewhere -even if their flights aren’t due for at least 3 hours from now-. But this is the big city, after all. Some push you, as they run with their carry ons. Others click their tongues instead of asking you politely to move to the side. In any case, you are fed up.

You thankfully and finally devise the name of the airline a few halls away, so, you are ready to push everyone who gets in the middle. If they aren’t polite with you, then you shouldn’t either.

When you finally get there, the only free counter awaits for you. And so, you run towards it, since you are most probably about to miss your fly.

“HI! THE SCAN ISN’T WORKING PROPERLY, MY TICKET ISN’T WO-“ “HI! I NEED TO KNOW IF A PASSENGER HAS ALREADY LEFT, PLEASE! IT IS AN EMERGENCY!”

Two voices crash into each other. Shoulders too. A pair of woman’s hands, and a pair of inked ones grab for dear life to the counter, startling the assistant.

“I can help you both, but please one at a time” the lady behind the counter says, with widen eyes and ready to call security.

However, what she says lacks importance, as your eyes meet the eyes of the man that is right next to you.

“What are you doing here, Law?”

“(Name)-ya…” he sighs. His cheeks, once again, turn red. His crystal eyes are unable to look at yours any second longer. “I am… really….so-“

Your lips tremble. There is something you still can’t process, and it is the fact that this could have been like a romantic movie.

“I- It’s ok… how did you know?” you ask, confused. You are sure you never told him which airline you were flying with.

“That, I can explain” Penguin, Law’s friend arrives panting. “So, naturally, we shouldn’t do this… but, for a friend in love we thought it was ok…” he says, lifting his finger and almost receiving a punch from Law.

“Penguin! I-…” Law screams, but Bepo joins the conversation along with Shachi. Both, of course, also panting, and sweaty.

“(Name)! I’m really sorry. I knew you were traveling around this hour and since I follow you on Instagram I know were you live… so…”

“So, we searched for possible flights to your hometown around this hour. And we were left with at least 4 different airlines. We split up to find you, and the best thing is that it seems as if Law had to be the one to do so” Shachi adds, pushing a flustered surgeon.

You can’t help but giggle. This could be considered stalking, but you are sure these guys have no ill intentions whatsoever. It is, in any case, sweet.

“Guys, you are true detectives… even if I am glad to see you again, I’m still a little bit confused to why you are here” you lie, because you clearly hear Penguin say “a man in love” when he was talking about Law.

Law clears his throat, and moves you the side, as some rude passengers were also annoyed at the fact their tickets weren’t scanning and needed to get to the counter.

He looks at the guys, who quickly understand he wishes to be alone with you and leave faster than Flash himself.

“So, (Name)-ya… I am really sorry for bothering you. I know you are about to board a plane, but, I needed to apologize. I didn’t act properly yesterday” he says, with his eyes glued to the dirty floor of the airport.

You smile, softly. You aren’t sure why he is apologizing, or why you seemed to be that important, but your heart is glad he did.

Before you could think of the right words to say, you search inside your bag. There was something you still owe him; the polar bear plushie.

“I- It’s ok, Law. You shouldn’t have bother to come all the way here… however, I am glad you did” you say, stretching your hand towards him.

He looks closely to the white fluff coming from your palm, remembering the charm he gave you. And then looks at you with the eyes of a kid.

“I needed to give it back to you. I was planning on sending it back to you whenever I got home… but here you are so…” you murmur, as your voice slowly soothes. You can’t help but feel weak and defenceless when you see him looking at you that way.

His inked fingers graze your palm, as he takes the charm. He is reluctant to do so, or at least that’s what it looks like to you. It also feels like he wanted to say something else, and indeed, you wish he did.

“Thank… you. I wouldn’t mind you having it a little longer. In fact, you can keep it. You will be back here, right?” he asks, offering you the plushie again.

You aren’t really sure about what to answer to his question. A few minutes ago, you wish to never ever come back to his town; however, now, your heart wish for you not to take that plane back home.

You hesitate whether taking the charm with you or not, but he seems to insist. Law is clearly not good at expressing his emotions, so perhaps the only way he has to do it is by offering you something you can keep with you.

But, what did make him change again? Why did he get so distant all of a sudden, and now, he is asking you for forgiveness?

“Law… I- I am not sure. I…” you stutter but grabbing his “gift” either way. It is as if your body wouldn’t want you to say no, even if your reason would.

Law plays with one of the little hoops hanging from his ear as he takes enough air to speak. “It’s ok if you don’t want to come back. Either way I want you to keep it. Maybe as a way of remembering not everything was so bad when you came here”

Your eyes soften. Your muscles too. With your head tilted to the side, you give him a smile and press the plushie against your chest.

“I will make sure to take care of it. Give me your phone number, Law… So, I can send you some pictures of it whenever I am home” you tell him, even if the real reason wasn’t exactly that one.

You search for your phone and give it to him, waiting for his fingers to type those ten numbers. Law grabs it, and one by one he adds the digits. He still gives your wallpaper a misgiving look, even if he knows the man in the photo is no other than your cousin.

“Uh… that’s Luffy… my cousin” you murmur, pointing at the screen.

Law nods, with puppy eyes. And the sudden realization of why he acted the way he did, hits you… jealousy.

You sweetly take the phone back, smiling at the name he chose to give to himself to save his contact; “Sora the Warrior of the Sea”

“Sora? You are amazing, Law…” you giggle, acknowledging how hard he is trying to look cool upon you.

He even smirks softly, despite how ashamed he feels and waits for you to finally ask about your defective ticket.

It turns out that it was a system failure, that somehow worked in favour of Law and you. Who knows, it might be destiny, or just a simple coincidence.

Of course, you should hurry up. Despite the airline acknowledging their problem, the plane won’t be waiting for you much longer.

“Law, if you wanna go back… it’s ok, you don’t have to wait for –“ “(Name)-ya, give me your luggage. I will carry it for you” Law says, clearly showing you with actions he doesn’t want you to go or at least to spend the most next to you.

You allow him to do so; you don’t mind walking through such busy airport next to a hot edgy doctor, after all.

But the line isn’t that long, and it’s time for you to go through to security to finally disappear behind frosted glass walls.

“So… it’s time” you murmur, with a pain in your heart a little difficult to explain.

He nods, this time he doesn’t look serious, but sad. Yet, he can’t stop you. He knows he couldn’t.

“(Name)-ya, take care please…” he whispers, giving you the handle of your carry on. And those words seem not to be enough to tell you the things his eyes are telling.

You nod, whispering a “you too” that he can barely hear. Your throat feels dry, and somehow it seems difficult to go away from there.

You show him the little fluffy ball in your hand, as you begin to walk away. Steps you take so slowly, somehow feeling you are missing something. Was it something you left at the hotel? Or was it something you didn’t properly pack?

No… it isn’t something tangible.

“Wait, (Name)-ya!” you hear, everything jolts inside you and your eyes widen when you feel the soft hand of a surgeon grab your wrist.

Softly, you turn around, discovering Law’s lips barely separated and eyes that are now filled with bravery and determination.

“Yes, Law?” you murmur, taking the same two steps you took to go away, to come back to him.

“Promise me you will send me a text when you get home… please?” he says stopping himself from moving any further. Even if, he just wanted to kiss you.

A little disappointed, yet with a softened heart, you give him a sweet smile. “I will, I promise…” you whisper, getting on tippy toes just to kiss his cheek, this time, closer to his lips. “Promise me, then, that you will come and visit me in the summer…”

Law nods, taking his hand to the place you just kissed. His silvery eyes can only reflect yours, and the subtle smile that invades his lips will be the face you will remember until you see him again someday.

His hand slides as you begin to walk towards security check, finally letting you go when not a single molecule can’t still hold to your forearm skin.

Before the glass doors close, you take a last look at his cheeks that are now looking like caramel apples.

“Goodbye, Law… don’t forget about me~” you mouth, while waving your hand.

“Bye, (Name)-ya…”

…

Six months after…

The days at the country side turned more enjoyable than you would have thought they ever will... Sunsets were more beautiful than before, the sounds of the waves crashing on the coast so near your home, finally told you stories of waiting lovers. And not a single day went by, without you sighing his name.

Your cosplay career kept growing, and you even started writing the most beautiful love stories ever told. There was someone who made your heart beat, and the inspiration for those stories only came from the things you wish you were living with him.

You had a special ringtone set for when Law texted you; the moment the word “Sora” appeared on your screen your eyes would shine as much as the stars in the same vast sky that somehow join both of you.

You planned so many cosplays together -even if he never thought of doing them, he would just because he wanted to see the smile that invaded your face through endless videocalls.

The weather was becoming hotter, and the new conventions were already scheduled; therefore, you had to start working on your next projects…

20:46 Sora (Law)> Name-ya, I won’t be able to use my phone in the following hours. Got a big surgery coming next. Sleep early today, you should rest. Don’t over work yourself. 20:47 you > yes, Doc. You too. Why are you operating so late, though? 20:48 Sora (Law)> too long to explain, but the operation was scheduled for today 6 months ago. Eat something and sleep. Goodnight. 20:48 you > ok… I wanted to show you some pics of the Noctilucas, but I will send them tomorrow. Have… fun? Bye bye 👋

You let your phone over the table, worried. Law is not usually very romantic, but he definitely never texted you this way. Of course, you couldn’t protest… after all, Law was just a friend to you… a friend with whom you could chat until falling asleep, and even sometimes doing it while on video call. A friend who cared for your wellbeing, and a friend who tells you everything he does from the time he opens his eyes, to the time he closes them in bed.

“Is Law lying? Why would he?” you ask yourself, as you stand up and walk through the window of your kitchen.

The noctilucas were on full bright; those tiny little sea creatures emanating a bright blue light from the sea could only remind you of Law. For some reason, you associate that shiny cerulean colour to Law’s inner power to make your heart get in shambles…

“I wish you were here, Law…” you sigh, with the painful need of ignoring a thought that has invaded your mind since you read his text… “There is no way Law would have a big surgery scheduled during a Friday night. He probably has a date. Yes… that should be… he owns me nothing, after all…”

To be continued - next part here

[pupintransit]

Fun little update about my gender affirming surgery- I didn't die!

I'm writing this on March 7, one day after my discharge from the recovery house at GRS Montréal. My flight home from Quebec isn't until Saturday so the hubby and i are hanging out in a hotel until then. I'll start by saying that the staff at GRS Montréal are all complete angels 🧡 I won't get into the weeds of the physical sensations of my recovery, but suffice to say I had a very taxing aftercare. I felt very supported and looked after during my time there even with all the setbacks i experienced.

Now, something that i have alluded to before in my write ups is that the trans communities and friends i have were very diligent to remind people not to romanticize the surgery. They're right to! The morning after my surgery the nerves in my genitals started to reactivate, and they were pissed about it. 11/10 pain for at least 15 minutes, which was when the oxycodone kicked in. Before that the worst pain i'd had experienced was scabies. Not anymore it's not! If you take nothing else from this post please do not fuck around if you're gonna do something like this. Listen to your body and ask for help when you need it, because i gaurentee you that you will need it.

I left site with pain meds to last a few days and very strict aftercare instructions, which i have been following to the letter. My surgeon requires four dilations a day for the first month, which if you include the cleaning up and air drying afterward can take upwards of two hours. Essentially i'm working an eight hour day cut up into four split shifts. To be honest i thought it'd be overwhelming, but after two days in a hotel to get used to everything it's not as bad as i was expecting. I feel like i have enough time in between sessions to relax, eat, go for a little walk, all that fun stuff. Not much time for day trips of course, but i can resume those soon enough. Frankly what i want to do more than go out for an evening is sleep on my side again...

The first time i really took stock of my new genitalia was midday after the external packing came off. I was looking in a mirror. I was purple and swollen (still am) but all the shapes i wanted to see were there. My automatic response was "Yeah, this is fine." Nothing euphoric, nothing like coming home again or whatever, just acceptance. And i think that's all i needed it to be? Nothing is hanging down there anymore. No stringy hairs to trim, no weird wrinkly foreskin, no random erection that won't go away. Just my pussy.

I'm not done healing yet. Shit still hurts quite a bit, i gotta sleep on a towel lest my bedsheets get ruined, and when i douche the water still runs a little red with gunk. That ain't gonna end for a while and it suuuuuucks, but the shapes i want to see on my body are still there so to me it is worth the hassle.

I do still go through phases of regret though, usually when my pain gets a little too much to bear or when my mood really dips. "Did i really need this? This wasn't worth all this pain, i hate feeling this way." What i try to remember is that i was in my right mind when i made and committed to this decision, and i'm simply not when overwhelmed with pain. When that pain subsides, so too does the regret.

And then i see my shapes again.

This was profoundly difficult and easily the worst i have ever felt physically, but i have no regrets. I can't wait to see myself once i'm fully healed and ready to go. I'll be the me i've always wanted to be 🧡

[theculturedmarxist]

What would the world look like if the pandemic never ended, if Covid was causing widespread, long-term illness, and if all this was being covered up by the government?

You might expect to see record levels of sickness and disability. You might expect to see hard evidence that the ‘herd immunity’ plan failed, with children continuing to die at staggering rates. You might expect record numbers of absences in schools and workplaces, tons of canceled concerts and airline flights, more sudden/unexplained deaths in all age groups, and a rise in opportunistic infections (caused by damaged immune systems), like fungal infections or strep A. There would be a coordinated effort to hide data from the public to obscure the truth of the threat. Hospitalizations, cases, and transmission numbers would all be hidden or manipulated. The government probably wouldn’t try to hide the data all at once, because it would be easier to dismantle reporting over the course of several months or years.

Eventually, updates might cease altogether (despite rising cases). The CDC would likely have to hide death data as well. Powerful people with vested interests in keeping the economy running would probably engage in astroturfing online, spreading misinformation to convince the public the threat has passed (to get people back to work and boost corporate profits). The rich and powerful would continue to take precautions, while telling you everything’s fine. This would take a lot of effort, and there would have to be a pretty carefully-coordinated campaign to confuse (and wear down) the public. They might tell you repeatedly how much you shouldn’t be panicking. Hospitals might prioritize a sense of “normalcy” over infection control, so as not to be held (legally and financially) responsible for their role in the unfolding disaster.

The ruling class (who would have access to the truth of the situation) would use their knowledge of what’s coming to invest in long-term care facilities, nursing homes, disability services, and hospices. Some people would obviously figure out what’s going on (like scientists, for example) and start shouting about it from the rooftops. So you’d probably see extreme censorship measures happening on social media sites. As conditions worsen, government officials might start preparing the public to accept mass death, reassuring us that it will only happen to the ‘vulnerable.' Life insurance companies would take note and move accordingly, denying coverage to people suffering from Long Covid. Meanwhile, the scientific evidence would keep mounting.

We are still in a pandemic.

The pandemic is not over. Basically everything you have been led to believe about the virus is a lie. Covid is more dangerous, more transmissible, and more out of control than everyone in power is telling you. We are not back to normal. We are in freefall.

We were lied to at every step of the way. First we were told not to panic and to stay six feet apart. We were told not to panic, ordered by the surgeon general not to buy up face masks, which we were assured we wouldn’t need. Then, we were told to only wear masks if sick or caring for someone with symptoms. When we were all finally told to wear masks in April 2020, we were given bad information about which masks could keep us safe. Cloth and surgical masks do not protect against aerosols (respirators do). And we were told by the people in power these flimsy masks would keep us safe. This was a lie.

The lies that killed us

Documents show that the World Health Organization knew from the start that SARS-Cov-2 was airborne.  They knew that “[a]irflow and ventilation were identified as important factors influencing efficient spread in hospitals,” but did not provide ventilation guidance to the public for years. Instead, this information was withheld from the public; they told the world that Covid spread through droplet transmission and repeatedly insisted Covid was not airborne. Because WHO withheld this crucial information, people around the world did not take necessary airborne precautions, like wearing respirators instead of baggy surgical masks.

Images from the World Health Organization’s publications acknowledging airborne transmission of SARS, juxtaposed with their guidance to the public in 2020. Compiled by Maarten De Cock (@mdc_martinus) on Twitter.

When the vaccines were first made available in late 2020, many leaders and prominent experts told people that the shots would prevent transmission entirely. This was never true; vaccines provide some protection, but don’t stop transmission (and only slightly reduce your risk of Long Covid). Americans were told by the president that they had a choice: “vaxxed or masked,” leading many vaccinated people to stop masking.

Throughout 2021, Americans were told repeatedly that Covid was only a threat to the unvaccinated. The CDC confidently asserted through December 2021 that “Cases of reinfection with COVID-19 have been reported, but remain rare.” While they were pushing this claim, the CDC was conveniently no longer reporting vaccination status alongside information on Covid deaths. (That information would remain hidden until April of 2022).

Once vaccinated people were getting sick with Covid in large numbers and the data could no longer be fully suppressed, the government told everyone that a vaccine plus a breakthrough infection would give you hybrid immunity. Experts declared that this form of ‘immunity’ would be the ticket to ending the pandemic. Then Omicron happened and cases skyrocketed.

The lies continued from there. We were told Omicron was somehow ‘milder,’ we were told that because nearly everyone got it, that we would finally reach population-level ‘immunity.’

But viruses do not automatically evolve to become milder. And Covid did not become milder; it became more insidious, more contagious, and more immune evasive. We now know it is neuroinvasive (even in cases with ‘mild’ acute symptoms), vascular, mass disabling, and far deadlier than what official totals have led us to believe. We know now that most transmission happens asymptomatically, and that reinfections are even more dangerous than initial infections. We know that at least one in ten infections leads to Long Covid, a debilitating neurological disease with no cure. We know this virus dysregulates immune systems, destroys T cells, and directly infects arteries in the heart. And as a result of all of this, we’re seeing unprecedented levels of sickness on a global scale.

We are living through an ongoing democide, being covered up in real time.

Hiding the bodies

The people in power have used every tool at their disposal to downplay, lie about, and cover up the truth of this pandemic. As the cases continued to rise (despite their assurances that things were under control), the US government took even greater steps to keep the public calm and unaware. They changed the way they calculated and shared information about community transmission, changing the scary-looking red map from a comforting green one overnight. The number of cases didn’t go down. But the green map gave people a false sense of belief that things were improving. The CDC called the new map system the Community Levels map. Most people mistakenly thought low Community Levels meant low community transmission, but this confusing system relied on hospitalizations, a lagging indicator.

After, and before. The mostly-green map on the left is dated March 10, 2022 and the map on the right is dated March 9, 2022.

In addition to changing the map, the CDC also made major changes to the ways that Covid cases, hospitalizations, and deaths were tracked. The changes always served to ensure that totals were undercounted. The CDC was manipulating the data, sweeping bodies under the rug. But these changes were made gradually and largely without the public’s awareness. In January 2022, they moved to end daily Covid death reporting by hospitals; by February, they had officially done so. By March 2022, some US states started shutting down daily Covid death reporting altogether.

What the public did eventually hear via the news was that the numbers were trending down. ‘Hospitalizations are down,’ the news told everyone—neglecting to inform all of us of the changes the CDC made to its reporting that artificially deflated these totals in multiple ways.

Hiding the data was not enough to get everyone to accept continued, repeated infections. The government wanted all of us to believe that catching Covid repeatedly was unavoidable and the acceptable cost of keeping everything running. If people were able to avoid becoming repeatedly infected, this lie wouldn’t hold. So they changed the guidance for schools, saying that there was no longer a need for masks, testing, or quarantines. They changed the isolation guidelines so that infectious people were sent back to work after just five days (down from ten)—at the request of the CEO of Delta Airlines. They ended the mask mandates in healthcare and transportation. Allowing people longer absences from work would set a precedent for workers demanding regular sick leave; it was crucial to not let ten-day absences become the norm or the expectation.

Testing moved to the private market, and fewer and fewer people retained the ability to test themselves regularly. And the people who are testing are largely relying on at-home rapid tests—whose results are not being reported anywhere.

On top of all of this, the CDC director called masks the “scarlet letter” of the pandemic. Over and over, the messaging from leadership stated that masks were a burden, masks marked you as an outsider, masks were outdated. They created immense social pressure for people to stop masking. As long as people continued to wear masks in public spaces, the threat remained visible and on others’ minds. Pushing everyone to drop their masks was big business’s way of ensuring people believed the pandemic was over so that they would resume traveling, spending money, and stimulating the economy without reservations.

In August of this year, just three months after ending the global public health emergency, the World Health Organization went as far as to stop sharing Covid-19 Epidemiological Updates. When announcing this change, they stated that “reported cases do not accurately represent infection rates due to the reduction in testing and reporting globally.”

Now, wastewater data is the only accurate data we have left. This data shows the concentration of Covid in sewage wastewater samples from across the country (the virus is shed in our poop when we get sick). And this crucial data is also under threat. Biobot Analytics, the company that provided much of the US wastewater data, lost its contract with CDC NWSS this month. The new contract went to Verily, a company owned by Alphabet (Google’s parent company). The switch is leading to data gaps, as well as changes in sample processing and analysis that will make data from some sites no longer directly comparable with the sites covered by Biobot. Others have noted that, unlike Biobot, Verily offers “little in terms of comprehensible data in regional or national terms.”

Without accurate data on current cases, transmission rates, hospitalizations, and deaths, we have no way of knowing the full scope of the current crisis. Our house is on fire; alarms removed, the public sleeps.

Government mitigations

The government knows that the pandemic is not over. The US Department of Defense is investing in state-of-the-art wearables that can predict if wearers are getting sick. The devices use biometrics and predictive algorithms (trained on hospital-acquired data) to detect infectious diseases up to 48 hours before any symptoms appear. The wearables are part of the Rapid Assessment of Threat Exposure (RATE) project, which recently got $10 million worth of additional funds.  

Everyone who meets with President Joe Biden is PCR tested beforehand.

White House Press Secretary Karine Jean-Pierre recently confirmed that strict COVID-19 testing protocols remain in place, saying, "Anybody who meets with the president does indeed get tested." White House interns still have to agree to wear masks when asked.

When Biden gave a maskless speech last year at Richard Montgomery High School during a period of high Covid transmission, gym windows were removed to rig a temporary high-end ventilation setup. Parents at the school were outraged, and teachers took to Twitter to share photos of the air handling units. NALTIC Industrials called the setup “unprecedented.” Meanwhile, the US government continued to insist on the safety of America’s schools, telling parents to send their kids maskless to poorly-ventilated classrooms.

[adventuressclubamericas]

Adventuresses We Remember

Christa McAuliffe’s interest in space started when she was young. After John Glenn orbited the planet, she reportedly told a classmate, “Do you realize that someday people will be going to the Moon? Maybe even taking a bus, and I want to do that!” She’d get her chance when she was selected from more than 11,000 applicants to be NASA’s Teacher in Space. She was assigned to the STS-51-L mission aboard Space Shuttle Challenger.

Judy Resnick was selected as part of NASA’s Astronaut Group 8, the first group to include women. She’d develop the software for the space shuttle’s robot arm and the deployment system for tethered satellite systems. On August 30, 1984, she flew aboard STS-41-D, the maiden voyage of Space Shuttle Discovery, becoming the 2nd American woman in space. In 1985, she was assigned to the STS-51-L mission aboard Space Shuttle Challenger.

Kalpana Chawla’s interest in flight started as a child watching the planes with her father at local flying clubs in India. She’d go on to earn a PhD in aerospace engineering, obtain her commercial pilot’s license and certification as a flight instructor. In November 1997 she flew on Space Shuttle Columbia as part of STS-87, becoming the first Indian woman in space. She helped work on the space station progress before being assigned to another shuttle mission, STS-107, once again aboard Space Shuttle Columbia.

Dr. Laurel Clark rose to the rank of Captain in the United States Navy where she’d served as a Naval Submarine Medical Officer, Diving Medical Officer, and Flight Surgeon over the course of her career. She became part of NASA’s astronaut corps in 1996 and flew aboard the STS-107 mission aboard Space Shuttle Columbia.

Christa McAuliffe and Judy Resnick, and their crewmates, died on January 28, 1986, when a series of events led to Space Shuttle Challenger breaking apart shortly after takeoff. Kalpana Chawla and Laurel Clark, and their crewmates, were killed February 1, 2003, when Space Shuttle Columbia broke apart during re-entry.

[madam-wakefield]

Open when...Chapter 1

AO3 Link FF Link

Summary:

When a few years into their relationship Bernie is asked to go back to the army and deploy Serena isn't sure how she's going to get through the nine months without her girlfriend. What she doesn't expect is for it to be her girlfriend who has the perfect set of surprises to get her through both the best and the worst days. Canon divergent - Elinor lives (well actually the accident never happens), Raf lives, and Cameron isn't a total ass! The staff of AAU also probably didn't all work on there at the same time in canon but do in this! The fic is already fully written with the first few chapters having already been Beta'd. 27 chapters including the epilogue. Hoping to post every Monday and Friday!

Chapter 1

Open when you get this…

Serena always knew she’d go to work the day after Bernie had deployed. In some way, she can make herself believe that this is just like the times when Bernie has gone away for a few days for a medical conference or to visit an old army friend. But deep down she knows it’s not, knows that she won’t see Bernie in person for nine months. 

She walks into their office and there on her desk is a beautiful floral box full of what look like ivory envelopes. Serena sits down in her chair and pulls it close to the desk, noticing one delicate envelope propped up against the front of the box.

She stares at it, eyes fixed upon Bernie’s messy writing on the front: Serena - Open when you get this…

She stares at it a little longer, wanting to commit this image to memory before complying. 

My Dearest Serena,

The main reason for writing these letters is because I love you! I love you so much and I want to be able to remind you of that as much as I can. In your moments of weakness. In your moments of joy. When you need to feel loved know that I will always love you. These letters are just here to remind you of that while we are apart for the next nine months. Put them somewhere you will see them often, or carry them around with you if you have to, so you always remember to Open When You…” 

I love you and miss you so much already.

All My Love, Bernie,

Your Big Macho Army Medic x 

She knows she doesn’t have time to respond instantly, she’s got ward rounds to do, and a short surgery scheduled but she promises herself this is the perfect excuse to write Bernie her first bluey. 

She plans to write to her on her break but of course, all the best laid plans always go wrong. Bernie’s red phone rings just as she’s about to go and get herself a pastry from Pulses. She’s missing her girlfriend, so who can blame her if she wants a bit of comfort food?

She goes into surgery with Raf, naturally taking the lead. He’s a good surgeon and she knows it, but it’s going to take her some time to be able to give up control to him in that way. She’s so used to working with Bernie in that respect, where neither of them really takes control, they just work side by side effortlessly without there needing to be a lead. 

After surgery she updates the patient’s family and is just thinking that she’ll have a break now, and maybe actually write to Bernie, when Sacha comes onto the ward to remind her that she’s ten minutes late for the clinical leads’ meeting. Thankfully, she can blame it on the emergency surgery.

She spends more of the meeting thinking about Bernie than actually paying attention. Wondering how Bernie’s flight was. Wondering exactly where Bernie is now. Wondering how she is ever going to get through the next nine months without her girlfriend. 

Normally after a meeting, Bernie will spoil her with coffee and a pastry and kisses if there is time, but she knows she isn’t getting that today or for the next nine months and she can’t help but feel a little deflated at the thought. 

She’s professional enough to offer her opinion a few times to make it look like she’s paying attention to the meeting but doesn’t really stretch herself. She’ll make up for it another time but today isn’t it. 

After the meeting she grabs her own coffee and pastry from Pulses and is this time determined to write Bernie’s letter, so she walks back onto AAU and locks herself in her office. She takes her time thumbing through the envelopes in the box, allowing herself to glance at what’s written on some of them, from love, to sorrow to anger, although she’s not convinced, she’ll need to use that last one. She then turns to her own bag and gets out one of the blueys she has in there—she and Bernie had picked up a stack from the post office before her deployment—and her favourite writing pen before sitting down at her desk. She knows she could use the INtouch electronic mail service to send Bernie an email but she wants the first letter she writes her girlfriend to be a handwritten one. 

Dear Bernie,

How!?! How did you ever get time to think so much about my needs while doing all the things you had to do? The idea of the envelopes has filled my heart with joy and all I can say is I’m so damn lucky that I am the woman you want to share your life with.

I had a quick look through the other envelopes, and I cannot believe all of the different occasions you have managed to cover. I do not have the words to tell you how loved this gesture of yours has made me feel. And you say that you don’t think you’re very good at romance!

I’ve got so much more I want to write but I’ve got to cut this letter short as your red phone is pulling me away from my break, but I promise to write again soon. 

All my love, darling…

Stay safe, soldier.

Serena x

The red phone call leads to a complicated surgery. Serena stays with the trauma patient and completes the surgery, even if it does mean that it’s two hours past her shift when she finally finishes. By the time she gets home and into bed she’s at least so tired and in need of rest that she doesn’t have as much time to miss Bernie, so she falls asleep much more easily than she had the previous night. 

[ashandkatiewrite]

Chapter 10

FIC SYNOPSIS: Maggie Hastings meets her dream man after a flight into New York City— Bucky Barnes, a pilot who seems to be everything she’s looking for. Except that she already has a boyfriend who never has time for her. After a near-tryst with her dream pilot, Maggie runs, only to find out he later meets her best friend and they’re now crazy about each other. Among their group of best friends, between Chicago and New York, and four weddings and a funeral, Maggie and Bucky struggle to keep their fiery chemistry a secret so they don’t hurt the ones they love.

WRITTEN BY: @if-you-onlyknew & @katiekinswrites

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/OFC

Rating: M (Mature) & E (Explicit)

READ FROM THE BEGINNING

chapter preview...

“Give her some room!” An anxious voice spoke as Maggie was set on the edge of the bed again. Everyone else in the apartment took a collective step back, but no one left. Everyone was quiet, watching. Bucky’s face loomed in front of Maggie’s as he checked her pupils again. “Was it your results?” he whispered, knowing only something like that could possibly have garnered such a reaction from her.

Chris was standing beside Natasha next to Bucky. “Mags?” Chris asked. 

“I passed,” Maggie finally said clearly. “I passed the surgical boards. I am officially a certified surgeon…” 

A broad smile broke out across Bucky’s face and not a second later, he was shoved back, away from Maggie as Natasha threw her arms around Maggie, whooping with victory. “Of course you did, Pchela!”

Being tackled in a hug by Natasha was finally the thing that snapped Maggie out of her shocked state and she couldn’t help but cry and laugh from the happiness and excitement she felt in that moment. 

Steve and Sam clapped as they smiled too. Not only was Chris staring at Bucky with a raised brow, but Frank was too. But they all knew why Bucky had stayed with Maggie for two weeks. No one else had been able to. Someone had to. And Bucky was glad he had. It had been one of the most rewarding experiences of his life. Seeing how happy Maggie had been with him, and it had been reciprocated. 

Maggie’s eyes instantly searched for Bucky, watching as he kept his focus on both Chris and Frank. She wanted so badly for him to look at her so she could thank him for helping her study for the exam, for putting up with her crazy and being by her side these last thirteen days even when she told him he didn’t have to. Maggie — even though she knew Natasha was in the room — wanted to tell Bucky she was so unconditionally in love with him and always would be. She wanted to be held by him during the greatest moment in her life — she just wanted him. 

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